Presidential Vampire: First Sun [Presidential Vampire, Book One]: A Young Adult Vampire Romance

by Holly Hook

  Jeremy marches me to the gate, and we're waved through quickly by the guards. It's as if everyone knows that many, many fates will fall on what happens in the Chamber, in the House, and on the President's desk. And a lot of it hinges on one or two vampires.

  We march across the plaza and under the lights. In the distance, a summer storm lights a huge thunderhead. Other than that, only the sound of feet click against the concrete, and then the vast steps of the looming Capitol. More guards see us through the front doors, and Jeremy follows the crowd through the marble labyrinth. I gulp. Do not panic. Do not panic.

  “This way to the balcony,” a guard tells us, even though one of Jeremy's agents is already leading us up a flight of stairs.

  Becky claps. “I think we'll be in for some interesting proceedings tonight. It's too bad that we lost yet another panelist.”

  She means Beatrice. Becky parades us up the steps, and I only just realize that Jeremy and I aren't the only people from the Housing Panel coming up this way. We pass through yet another set of guards, and we emerge in a hallway that seems to loop around where the action is going to happen.

  Then we enter through a set of double doors.

  The Chamber is bigger than I thought, with our balcony circling the room and the chairs already filled with other panelists and maybe two dozen older vampires. An agent motions Jeremy and I to two seats on an upper row, closest to a door, and we sit with two agents in front of us and two behind. Becky takes her spot in the front row, which shocks me. Is she without a hangover tonight? Something seems different about her, or maybe that's just a dream.

  Already, lawmakers gather at the desks below us, facing the central podium where the action is going to happen. I spot the back of Goodman's head as he sits completely still, paperwork in front of him, and he's got his blood bag seated beside him on an uncomfortable-looking stool. Even in the Senate, he has to remind everyone that he's a guy who values control. My stomach turns as he motions to his assistant, who leans over and lets him bite her yet again. Warrington sits on the other side of the Chamber, also in the first row, and she adjusts her microphone like she's ready for action.

  “I'm going to throw up,” I mutter.

  If the Act doesn't get out of here with that slash in money for FHDA, we'll have lost.

  And another moment of truth weighs down on my shoulders. I could fail Silvia and end up dead before the end of the night.

  Both levels of the Chamber slowly fill until every seat is taken. I spot some of the other activist groups, or should I say, test groups seated side by side. Zara Silverton wanders inside and stands on the other end of the Chamber, hands folded, and the FHDA guys stand with her, waiting to hear the outcome. Among them are guards and other heads of agencies who I don't recognize, but I can guess from the nervous stares of the other groups that the agency heads have a lot to do with who lives and who dies after tonight. Even a few of the young vampires huddle together and whisper.

  “Is that Vice President Portman?” I ask, eyeing the podium.

  The new vampire with the sandy blond hair and neatly trimmed mustache speaks into the microphone, opening the session while Jeremy stays quiet. I hadn't realized he would be here overseeing this, but Jeremy just nods and holds his finger to his lips like he wants me to stay quiet. He also looks at me as if I should have known he'd be here.

  Either way, maybe he's been a bridge between Haywood and Goodman.

  If my plan even worked.

  “...and we will be voting on the Federal Agency Reallocation Act tonight,” Portman finishes in a voice that could be worthy of any famous speech. “Senator Goodman, what do you say about the Act as it stands right now?”

  I grab my chair, though Jeremy just crosses his legs as if this isn't bothering him. Wow, he can act well under stress. Of course he can. Or maybe he knows something.

  Goodman releases his assistant and straightens as all eyes fall on him.

  “Well, we have had to make some changes to the Act, of course, but we all expected that,” Goodman says, giving away no clues. The rest of the room is so silent that I can hear my own breathing. “For the most part, the bill remains unchanged since the first Committee meeting. However, we did make a few small changes to the bill before tonight.”

  I hold my breath.

  I want Jeremy to hold my hand, but all he can offer me is his nasty smile. I'll take it.

  “The purpose of this Act is to reallocate funding to the most beneficial and useful federal agencies and to cut down on frivolous and unnecessary spending. After much deliberation, we have decided that the Act should increase funding to some agencies and reduce it in others.”

  Goodman is dragging this out. Though I can't see his face, I know he's flaunting his power before everyone else in the room. The Agency people standing on the periphery of the balcony all tense, and Zara, along with a dozen others, leans forward to listen. There's no need for that, though. Goodman's voice booms through the room and echoes off the dome ceiling.

  “Furthermore, we must strike a delicate balance between our goals and the needs of the people that we serve,” Goodman says, and he seizes his desk as if he wants to break it in half.

  My heart rises.

  Is he seriously going to cave to the new media pressure, and the pressure President Haywood must have put on him?

  Warrington rises. “I would like to politely interrupt.”

  He snaps his gaze to her.

  And I look at Jeremy, who dares to let a tiny grin play at the corner of his lip.

  “We cannot allow scandals and bribery to rule this government,” Goodman shouts over her. It's the most hypocritical thing I've heard so far. “We will not leave room for such behavior.” Though he's not referring to Warrington, he stares right at her as he speaks, deflecting the blame like a pro. “Therefore, we in the Committee have made some last-minute changes to the Federal Agency Reallocation Act to reduce such corruption and frivolous spending. Environmental programs will remain the same, the Federal Educational Funding Agency will see a slight cut, and we will reduce the FHDA's funding by slightly under fifty percent from here on out.”

  Scattered applause rings through the Chamber, and I grip my seat.

  Is he serious?

  Did I really do it?

  Is Goodman really willing to piss off his donor, Dream Developers, to save his face in front of the country?

  On the other side of the balcony, Zara lets her jaw drop. She pales, though her skin is already porcelain, and she slides her hands up and down the wall behind her as if she's trying to steady herself.

  Jeremy elbows me, though he doesn't dare to look at me.

  Yes. Goodman is willing. It's every man for himself in this world.

  Warrington remains standing. “We cannot make such drastic cuts to large government agencies. I have suggested time and time again to introduce a new set of rules and regulations to prevent wasteful spending and money going to destructive companies.”

  “Senator Warrington,” Vice President Portman says. “The Senate will vote on this set of bills before the night is over, and will determine if this is the correct course of action.” It's another power play. Spade versus Heart. And I know she won't win.

  Zara's shaking as she leaves the room, the four FHDA men behind her.

  The vote hasn’t happened yet, but already, she's lost.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The Senate debate rages for the next few hours over seemingly every detail of the bill package, but the panelists remain in their seats. Only Zara and the other FHDA leaders have left in rage or disappointment, and I'm glad to see her gone.

  Jeremy whispers a couple of things to me as the proceedings continue. And every one is music to my ears.

  “The House will vote this through after the Senate does. The Spades have the majority there.”

  And then, right before the Senate votes on the Act, Jeremy delivers the news I've been waiting for.

  “And my father will sign this into
law.”

  I can barely suppress my smile.

  It worked.

  My insane plan and my conspiring with the enemy has actually worked.

  But Jeremy, I notice, doesn't relax completely. He keeps his legs crossed, but he keeps his shoulders elevated and keeps flicking his gaze to the closed double doors behind us. Something is not completely right yet, and I know what that could be.

  Beatrice no longer has anything left to lose.

  And she's still out there. Jeremy hasn't told me where she is now, but I can only imagine her rage after being kicked off the panelist program.

  Vice President Portman calls for the vote. Apparently, he’s also President of the Senate, and oversees a lot of things in this chamber.

  My throat goes dry.

  One by one, each Senator calls out their vote.

  Fifty-eight for Yay.

  And only forty-two for Nay.

  And with the pounding of the gavel, Portman calls for the end of the session to another round of applause.

  * * * * *

  “That was more painless than I thought,” I say as I let Jeremy guide me out of the Capitol. We've finally secured a bit of space around ourselves, as the vampire panelists have gone ahead to the Freedom Center, where Becky has just announced we’re going to have a few hours of celebration before the sun rises.

  Or a few hours of something else.

  “Yes. But things aren't over,” Jeremy says.

  He won't dare to tell me what because others meander out of the Senate building with us. The House vote won’t take place until tomorrow night, but the FHDA’s fate is sealed. Goodman and Haywood, the two major barriers to getting what I wanted, lie broken from a simple recording.

  We walk across the vast plaza of the Capitol to our waiting cab, where Becky stands under a streetlight and waits for Jeremy to deliver me and let me off his elbow.

  I gulp.

  Sometime soon, the vampires are going to decide who stays and who dies. And that might even happen at the Freedom Center. Becky lets her smile drop away as Jeremy lets go of me and allows me to go into the SUV to sit beside Victor, who doesn't say a word to me.

  He hikes up his shoulders, shutting me out.

  And I take an invisible gut punch.

  The FHDA and Dream Developers might wither and die a slow death over the next several years, but Victor, Colleen, and Ariana saw no change in Choice Rentals. They had been hoping for Warrington to add more regulations to the Urban Development Agency, who oversee them. No one says a word to me as I put on my seat belt. Ariana flicks her gaze to me and away again.

  Not everyone won tonight.

  Most of us lost, and I know that was the plan all along. The vampires made us play an impossible game just so they could see how we all reacted. I’m the only rat who got to the end of the maze.

  The others must hate me for that.

  And now I can't even warn Victor, Ariana, and Colleen about what's to come because I'm not on good terms with them.

  Becky gets into the SUV, and she says nothing on the way to the Freedom Center, where all of this started. I eye the digital clock at the front of the SUV. It's two-fifteen A.M. With each mile we drive, the heaviness in my chest increases.

  Jeremy said the vampires take a while to choose their new heirs, right?

  Can I be sure about that?

  What about death? They dish that out freely from what I've found. I blink, and the sheet-covered form on Silvia's floor meets my gaze again. It's part of me now, no matter what happens.

  When we get to the Freedom Center, everyone’s silent. Other human attendees, and some vampires as well, already file into the Freedom Center. The vampires all laugh and chat as if this is a normal outing. The human panelists are quiet as a doorman holds open the entrance.

  I only won because I went as low as the vampires themselves.

  And during my quest for revenge, I forgot about the others.

  Be the predator they want you to be. Jeremy waits beside William for me just inside the entrance, now with Nathan and one human agent. Jeremy rudely steps in front of me and extends his elbow, and I stop and sigh.

  “Can I just have this one party without being an ornament?” I ask, rubbing my head.

  “Blood bag,” Colleen mutters, walking away.

  “This way,” Becky says to the other panelists, though her voice is shaking. “We have our own private room tonight on the second floor.”

  I gulp as I let Jeremy take my arm. Becky's tense. She knows something's going down here tonight.

  This is where the action is going to happen. The vote in the Senate chamber was just a distraction.

  “You are my ornament,” Jeremy says, pulling me close as William laughs. “William, I told you I could tame the beast before the end of this panelist program. You owe me three big ones. As in, three grand.”

  “No way, man.” The grin drops off his face. “I was joking when I said that.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask. Jeremy never told me this part. I bristle, hoping this was part of his plan all along. Sure, he's helping me to hide my victory and my happiness. “So I'm a bet, too. Great.” I pull at Jeremy's arm, doing my best to stay pissed.

  Because now that the vote is over, I have another problem.

  Jeremy leads me after Becky as William follows, cursing and grumbling. We pass a section of the Freedom Center that must be under renovation, because I smell plywood and fresh air beyond an open doorway. The vampire girls in our group are already out of sight and probably upstairs already. Jeremy leads me up, talking about the money that William owes and telling him to steal it out of his father's campaign donor account.

  Apparently, there are private dining rooms on Floor Two, with each door marked with a panel's name. We reach the one labeled Housing Panel Dining Room, and I find Becky already inside, standing and speaking to the other Panel members.

  The dining room is small, with paintings on the wooden walls. A cart of food and blood bottles waits in the corner, and the vampire panelists, Wendy and Asha, already sit at their own table, chatting quietly as if this is just a normal night out. Of course, they don't have to worry about being killed. They've mastered the selfish, predatory part of the quiz.

  And maybe so have I.

  Nathan and the other agent walk in behind us and station themselves at the door. But they're not here to protect the panelists.

  “Ah. Ember,” Becky says with a smile before letting it drop away again. She motions to the round table. Hardly anyone is eating, though. Victor stares down at his plate and the girls are both stony silent. “I'm so glad we had a victory tonight.”

  “Thanks,” I say, no longer feeling it.

  I've gotten my revenge and left the others in the dust.

  I sit once Jeremy lets me go and goes to his own table. He's got no plans to drink from me tonight. The bite marks from last night still bear scabs.

  But I’m empty.

  How can I stop what's coming for us?

  “So,” Becky says, as if she's said these words a million times before. “I know this was a tough month for all of you. But everyone did their absolute best, and that makes us all winners.”

  I sigh, hating the words. They’re meaningless and probably have been since the vampires started these programs.

  “Setbacks are normal here,” Becky says. “It takes a very long time to make a difference here in Washington, and all of you are off to a brilliant start. However, it's almost time for some of you to go home and recharge. But first, we're going to enjoy an amazing dinner catered by the Freedom Center itself, and we'll reflect on our time here before we move on to what comes next for all of us.”

  Becky reaches not for a glass of wine, because there is none, but inside her purse for an orange pill bottle.

  Fuck.

  Is that Valium? I can't be sure, but she pops it and downs it quickly.

  “Now, let's all meditate on what we learned.”

  She's stalling. Somewhere in the Center
, the older vampires must decide who is going to live and who is going to die. They're comparing notes on all the human panelists, and most of them are unaware of what's to come.

  Someone in this room will die. She’s made that clear.

  Becky takes us through a bullshit meditation session on what values we have and what we learned about telling stories and debating.

  What am I supposed to do?

  I can't just jump up and scream that some of us are taking fangs to the neck before daybreak. And the rest of us lucky saps will get turned some time after this.

  A server comes in after our first course and serves us sushi and rice next, complete with fancy, wooden chopsticks and a salad. I can barely choke that down, too. Becky moves on to discussing more bills that Congress will work on soon, and I know the time is short. I check the clock on the wall. It's already getting close to five in the morning. We're taking a long time tonight, and I sense Becky is running out of stalling tactics as she talks about a finance bill twice.

  Jeremy keeps sneaking glances at me, and he lifts his eyebrow as if to say he's not sure what the hell is going on. Then he leans over to William and says, “We're supposed to be out of here by now.”

  “At least we have sun proof vehicles,” William says. “Wow, that Senate session dragged out too long.”

  “I wonder what's holding things up?” Jeremy asks. “My father will not be happy about this.”

  He's warning me about something. Asha holds her finger to her lips and shakes her head at him. He's said too much.

  At last, after our food vanishes, Becky's phone buzzes, and she checks it quickly before tucking it back into her pocket again.

  My heart slams against my ribcage.

  “Our dinner is about over,” Becky announces. “I bet you're all wondering what comes next. You may have heard that there could be other opportunities for you after this one-month period. Our time lobbying for this Act is over. Some of us will stay on for other things, while some of us will go home and recharge before taking the next step. Mental health comes first.”