by CD Brown
“Lips are sealed, babe. But you are gonna have fun with this.”
And she did on the night of the ball in more ways than one. First, when Jeremiah called her to say he was waiting outside, she could hear a slight smirk in his tone, that he was hiding something. She walked out the center to see a long, sleek limo waiting for her, Jeremiah holding open the back door.
His suit look pulled from the same era as her dress, a long grey greatcoat with matching waistcoat and pants. The top hat was in his hand and he had gelled his beard to form a point, like some old French illustration. He even had a pocket watch at the end of a gold chain in his vest pocket.
They both giggled like children going to a costume party.
“Aw, man, do you look good.” Jeremiah couldn’t keep the backwoods boy out of his face, regardless of how he dressed.
But Sophia did look good. Claudia’s outfit had taken an hour of primping, pulling, and tying to get it just so, but each bustle and loop had been worth it. The dress, a robin’s egg blue, was tight on top with a large back bulge around her nethers. The skirt descended to the points of her toes and her neck and wrists were decorated with frilly lace. She had finished the look by curling the sides of her longer locks, more of a Civil War-era style, but nonetheless old fashioned and charming.
As she climbed into the back of the limo, she laughed. “I’m not sure how to sit down in this thing. I feel like I should be on the edge of my seat.”
Jeremiah kept tugging at his waistcoat. “This get-up’s pretty dang tight, too. I’m not sure how much sitting I can do without ripping it up.”
They managed to fit themselves into the back and the car sped off to West Hollywood. Jeremiah, after asking Sophia’s permission, treated himself to a tumbler of bourbon.
“You think your suit is tight, I’m freaking lassoed into this corset. At least my internal organs don’t work like they used to. I won’t have to worry about the vapors.”
“Oh, my! A bad case of the vapors!” Jeremiah spoke with an exaggerated Southern accent and fanned himself with his hand. When Sophia didn’t laugh along, Jeremiah asked, “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Why are you fanning yourself?”
“The vapors is getting overheated, ain’t it?”
“No, it’s what we said when we couldn’t stop farting. Our stomachs were all choked down and the gas had to come out.”
“Damn, they didn’t say that in Gone With The Wind.”
“Believe me, the only wind Scarlett O’Hara had to worry about was coming out of her ass.”
Typical of a Hollywood Saturday night, traffic was slow heading into the crowded party sections of town. While they didn’t have to take Hollywood Boulevard, the party was on Sunset, a bogged-down parade of taillights.
They arrived at the front door at 10 p.m. The party was to last until four, giving all the attendees time to get back to their beds. The Glamazons had rented The Palladium for the night, usually a live music venue, but the front entrance was low-key, just a short velvet rope and a few guards, as any collection of undead was best kept on the down low. They exited the limo and were quickly brought inside where they were met by a six-foot bleach blonde vamp in a shiny, skintight leather jumpsuit who held a clipboard. The creature’s face was androgynous, but the throaty greeting, a deferent “evening,” showed this one had been born male. But Sophia had been learning to keep her pronouns in check so she wouldn’t cause any undo awkwardness.
Sophia stepped forward, “I’m—“
“Ms. Fontanelle, we’re so glad you could join us.”
“You know who I am?”
“Sister, in Hollywood, you gotta know who’s who. You look divine, by the way, but…” She looked over her shoulder. “I hope you don’t feel out of place here.”
“I feel out of place in this dress. I’ll be cool.”
“We certainly hope so. Here’s your table assignment.” She handed Sophia a card and then led them to the front doors. As they got close, Sophia could hear a low rumble, an explosion of sound smacking her in the face as the Glamazon opened the door.
The heavy thumping of electronic bass wrapped around Sophia like plastic wrap. The club, a long, wide room with a parquet floor and a five-foot tall stage at the back, had a series of tables filled with glammed-out vamps. In each of the corners, couples, each thin and pure white in their complete nudity, with the exception of spiky knee boots, acted out sadomasochistic routines in time to the beat. This must have been what the greeter was talking about.
And they did stand out. The clothes were mostly of the tight leather variety, although some Victorian goths in similar looks to Sophia and Jeremiah were around. Sophia spotted the Black and Whites at their own table, their usual haughty looks plastered on their faces. As they made their way to their table, Sophia was surprised to find Tamar and Alpha Dawg together. What surprised her even more was they were holding hands.
“Well, this is interesting.” Sophia smiled through the side of her mouth, but Tamar rolled her kohl-blackened eyes.
“Man, we lost so many cats to Fudgie, we had to team up,” Alpha said. “Didn’t know we was gonna go even further.”
Tamar kissed him on the cheek, her usual hard-boiled facade gone in the moment. She stood to check out Sophia’s dress.
“Man, this shit is beautiful.” Tamar stroked the lace cuffs and rolled the dress between her fingers. But then she pointed at the bustle. “But whatever the fuck is going on back here makes your ass look huge.”
“Some men like that booty, girl.” Alpha swatted Tamar’s leather-clad rump. “Plus you Messicans ain’t lacking neither.”
“I know what my ass looks like.” Tamar leaned over so only Sophia could hear. “It’s what snagged him in the first place, am I right?” Tamar sat back down. “But I don’t like all them clothes. I like showing all those guys what I got and what they can’t have.”
Sophia and Jeremiah sat down also, as a thin vamp in only a Speedo and bow tie came over. In a high-pitched voice, he said, “Do you desire anything?” The waiter leered at Jeremiah, but Sophia was happy to see him take it in stride.
“I already ate.” Jeremiah had learned that his needs would never be addressed at a vampire function.
“House red.” Sophia grinned at her joke, but the waiter only gave her a sidelong look before walking away.
As the ball went on, Sophia numbed at the relentless drone of the darkwave. Little to no variance in beat or sound slowed her mind and she found herself on the verge of a waking dream. Jeremiah nudged her.
“What’s going on over there?”
“This music. It’s so boring.”
“We could try dancing to it, like those weirdos.”
Indeed, the floor was still packed, the flitting purple and blue lights acting like X-rays for the opalescent bodies. But they did nothing except twist and torque so they could check out the others dancing in the same jerky fashion.
“Nah. When I dance, I like to hear something else. Something jazzy. Something I can swing to, not twist.”
Jeremiah stood. Pointing with his thumb, he said, “Bathroom.”
As he walked away, Tamar and Alpha returned from the dance floor. “Where’s your boy going?”
“Toilet.”
Tamar laughed. “Oh, yeah. People still have to do that.”
They chatted and sipped blood from champagne flutes, the blood of cows from a kosher market, Sophia was ensured. As she placed her glass on a napkin, the music came to a halt. After a few seconds of silence, horns and drums blared from the sound system, the driving swing of Louis Prima.
Jeremiah appeared at Sophia’s side. “Show me what you got, boo.”
She jumped up, the throaty vocals of her old friend bringing a smile to her face. As she and Jeremiah swung back and forth, Sophia spinning under Jeremiah’s arms, she bumped against another body. Loretta and the other Black and Whites had jumped up to join them.
“Come on, sweet cheeks,” Loretta called out. “Let’
s show these squares how to dance.”
As they boogied to the song, Sophia said to Jeremiah, “Did you do this?”
“Slipped the DJ a twenty. Plus, this party needed a shake up.”
Sophia’s dress didn’t allow her to do the complex jumps and lifts the Black and Whites were doing, but she was finally having some fun when the music cut out again. This time the DJ looked confused. When the house lights came on, the crowd started snarling, as some of the Glamazons looked on the verge of going feral.
A man in a white suit jumped up on stage and pulled the microphone from the DJ’s stand.
“Brothers and sisters, you must listen to me. Set aside your dark ways. Another life awaits you, one back in the sunlight.”
A collective groan went up as the mood collapsed. Sophia looked around to see annoyance instead of rage. Jeremiah and she went back to the table to see Tamar and Alpha with the same eye-rolling as the Glamazons.
“This dude again!” Alpha slapped his thigh.
“Who is he?” Sophia sipped her blood, as there wasn’t going to be a riot.
“Don’t worry. He’ll tell you.”
“Friends, you don’t have to fear anymore! Join the Scions of the Sun and we will show you a path out of the darkness!” The crowd booed, long and sustained hoots that overtook the amplified sound of the man’s voice. “End your suffering! Join us and be free!”
The bright white lights cut out at this moment, followed by a resumption of the music. The man still spoke into the microphone, but it was as dead as the rest of the crowd. He finally sagged, handing the mic back to the DJ and jumping down from the stage. The Glamazons bumped and tripped him as he walked through the dancers, but he kept his composure. It took a minute, but Sophia then realized he was coming toward her.
He came and knelt in front of her. “You are Sophia Fontanelle, yes?”
Sophia nodded, extending her hand. He gripped her fingers in an old-fashioned way, as if he was going to kiss the top of her hand, but he didn’t go that far.
“Balthazar Nesbit. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
“You don’t fit in here, do you, Mr. Nesbit?”
“A preacher is rarely welcomed in the palace of sin.”
“I met lots of preachers in the whorehouse. Few were there to talk about God.”
Nesbit laughed, his smile rueful but genuine. “I’m afraid one who walks at night has little interest in the mortal deity. I’m here to speak of expanding our own world.”
“I’m afraid I don’t get what you’re talking about exactly.”
“I would invite you to one of my services. That should explain it.” He handed Sophia a flyer which she tucked in her purse.
“I’ll try to go.”
He nodded to the rest of the table and walked off. Tamar shook her head.
“You’re not actually going to go, are you? Dude’s strange.”
“If I have responsibilities in the vampire community, then it’s all of the vampire community.” She looked at the bodies writhing on the dance floor, now more naked than ever. “Sure, Tamar. He’s the weird one.”
Chapter Fourteen
The church of the Scions of the Sun was near the ZLVG center, down on Riverside Drive. Too far to walk, the building was in plain view of the 2 interstate, its overpass imposing as it dropped long ivy strands. Sophia could see them from the parking lot as she got out of her hired car.
The place was as advertised: an old church that looked abandoned. No signs, no advertising, no nothing but a dusty concrete building with a cathedral roof. All of the windows were painted over and the walls could use a pressure wash. It reminded Sophia of the vampire council home in New Orleans, an active site hiding under a layer of calculated dust.
As she stepped inside, the mood changed drastically. This was an actual church, complete with organ music as the worshippers filed into pews. There wasn’t as much reverence as the Catholic masses she used to attend, as people were chatting and hugging each other. But they quieted down and sat when the organist began his version of The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun.”
Sophia rolled her eyes at the song selection but took a seat in the back.
Nesbit came from the back area, glowing with joy in his white suit and open collar. As he walked to the podium, he raised his hands like a Baptist filled with the Holy Spirit. The congregation joined him, all reaching toward the sky.
The lights had been dimmed, but now they were raised to full illumination. Bright white light filled every corner, cancelling any shadow except those made by bodies. As hands waved in the air, Nesbit spoke into the microphone.
“You don’t have to live in darkness, friends.”
“Amen,” the collective voice returned. Sophia could see these vamps were completely devoted.
“While the god of the living has banished us from the healing powers of the sun, we in this church are standing up to him. We say, ‘No!’ We say, ‘We shall find our way back to the light, back into the day and live free once again.’ What do you say to this, my friends?”
“Hallelujah!” Sophia felt no need to join them, but the spirit in the room was infectious, not unlike her own meetings once fresh blood had been re-introduced.
“Friends, we stand on the precipice of a new way, a new understanding. We’ve lived too long in the shadows. We must rebel against the dark. We may be vampires, we may be bloodsuckers, but we do not have to accept the life we’ve been given. Oh, no!”
Shouts of exaltation rolled through the crowd. Sophia hadn’t been in a church in a hundred years, but the ceremonies of her past were so staid. This must have been what those tent preachers were doing when they rolled from town to town.
“I want to talk about the sun, friends. I want to talk about its healing properties.” Nesbit wiped his forehead here, even though Sophia knew his sweat glands had withered years before. The vamp was a hell of a showman. “Now we know that too much time in the rays can be bad, even for the living. It burns, it dehydrates, and it oppresses. And to us, of course, it turns our own skin to flames.” He stopped here for a smile and fake laugh before gathering a serious look on his face. “But that’s about fear. That’s about being afraid. That’s about embracing the darkness of the soul.”
The music had changed. Sophia couldn’t quite pick up what was being played until she finally grasped the loping melody. The organist had shifted to “On the Sunny Side of the Street.”
“But people who are happy? People who are fulfilled? What do we say about them? Yes, friends, we say they have sunny personalities. We say that inspiration comes in bright flashes of light. Where are the happy people? That’s right, they walk on the sunny side of the street! So let’s put aside our cares and our woes and purge the darkness of our lives. Yes, my friends, one day we, too, shall walk in the light of day, shall return to be part of the world of the living and put aside all the evil in our souls.”
Nesbit grabbed the microphone from the stand and walked to the center of the altar area.
“What do we know about heaven?”
“Walk into the light!” Sophia figured this was part of the ceremony because congregation stood here.
“That’s right! We are gonna walk into that light and find salvation of our own. Are you ready?”
The crowd yelled out a “yeah,” but Nesbit wasn’t satisfied, like any showman.
“We need to do better than that. Come on, now. Are you ready to walk in the light?”
The crowd exploded with noise. Nesbit went to the back of the altar and pulled back a black blanket. Hiding there was a spotlight on casters. He flipped a switch and the brightness in the room doubled. Sophia could feel the heat from the bulb, but also noticed that the light was filtered. Something too close to natural sunlight would actually burn them, but the glazing would keep them from harm.
Nesbit tilted the spot and pointed it at the crowd. As he did this, the members of the congregation pulled off their jackets. Each continued to strip down until everybody
, with the exception of Nesbit and Sophia, were naked and writhing in orgiastic pleasure from the warmth.
Again the organist segued, this time to The Velvet Underground’s “White Light, White Heat,” the insistent beat of the song pushing the crowd to sway and jump as the spirit filled them. Sophia saw Nesbit, the microphone dropped somewhere on the stage, turning the light on different members, each taking a turn to fall on their knees and bow before the symbol of their salvation.
Nesbit’s face held a look of pure glory, his working the light as much of a charge as receiving it was for the worshipper.
Even though the ritual was not sexual, the nudity and the brightness finally got too overwhelming for Sophia. As Nesbit began to disrobe to join his followers, she quietly slipped out the door and back onto the street.
The walls were thick enough to cancel most of noise coming from inside. Sophia took a moment to stare at the moon, its softer glow the only source of the sun she had known since the turn of the 20th century. Maybe these worshipers could find joy back in the daytime, but her? Naw, she liked the shadows. But she knew that she would have to deal with Nesbit, if only to keep him from killing himself.
They had agreed to call it a meeting of the bosses, not a vampire council. Each of the heads of the local cabals, including Alpha Dawg, Tamar, Loretta from the Black and Whites, and their newest attendee Vektron from the Glamazons met at the VampAmp offices. Despite not being a vampire, Pamela Garland sat in. Her stake in keeping order in the society was as large as the rest.
Sandy took the role of secretary, reading the minutes of the last meeting. These were mostly announcements of VampAmp’s attempts to create the global network Ferriday had once envisioned. They were having trouble with Google hangouts and other video conferencing because the cameras wouldn’t work on vamps. They were working on animated avatars, but that was going slowly.
“First of all, I want to thank Vektron for joining us.” Sophia bowed to the Glamazon, whose sharp mohawk melded into his pale skull. He looked to be wearing the same outfit he’d worn to the ball. Sophia wondered if they ever turned it off. “We had such a good time at the ball.”
