“Stop calling her that,” Marcia says, weakly stamping her foot.
Alicia and Joshua have already turned around.
“Oh, my God,” Joshua whispers. “Those are Vera Wang gowns made with elven silk. My heart just broke. I feel so shabby; I think I lost my insta-baby.”
“She looks beautiful,” sighs Alicia resignedly. And there is no doubt that Cindy is beautiful. Along with her blonde hair, she has enormous blue eyes, a delicate nose, and a mouth shaped like a bow. And Cindy knows she is beautiful. She often complains that, if she were “just a little taller,” she could be a model.
“You both look beautiful too,” Marcia protests. She tries to turn, but feels a sharp pain in her side. She takes a breath.
“It’s okay, Mom.” Joshua says. “We’re not the kind of girls who get swept up by Prince Charming. We’ve accepted our fate … but we can enjoy the ride.”
Putting a hand to her side, Marcia manages to turn, and there is Cindy with her aunt and godmother, Deidre. Cindy is wearing a gown of sky blue that glows with unearthly magic. It has a diaphanous white train that flutters like a cloud. Above the sweetheart neckline her pale skin and golden hair are like the sun. Deidre wears a dress of black that seems to have stars woven into the fabric. Above the black, her silver hair is like the moon. Even next to elves, the two seem celestial. Marcia bites her lip. What a world her children are coming of age in; one where magic is real. Their possibilities seem endless.
Seeing Marcia’s threesome, Cindy and Deidre walk over. They’re not six feet away, when, looking at Alicia’s dress, Cindy exclaims, “You’re wearing our old curtains!” Her voice is so loud it rises above the gentle murmur of the crowd. Marcia feels all eyes on Alicia. Her daughter’s shoulders slump further. Marcia closes her eyes and reminds herself that there is a fifty-fifty chance Cindy didn’t mean to be hurtful.
“That suit and that dress look familiar,” Deidre says. Marcia opens her eyes to see Deidre looking her up and down with a clear expression of disdain on her face.
“Real class never goes out of style,” Marcia says through gritted teeth.
“Burnnnnnn …” whispers Joshua, but Marcia notices his eyes are a little too wet after the curtain comment.
Deidre sniffs. “If you say so.” Guiding Cindy away, Deidre says, “Cindy, let me introduce you to the prince.”
The three of them watch them walk off, and Alicia gulps. “You were right, Mom, they really are vampires.”
Marcia hears a cough. Her eyes slide to the side, and she sees the man she’d seen before. His gaze meets hers, and for an instant she has x-ray vision. She can see his fangs behind his lips. She gasps and blinks. And then he is gone.
Marcia sits just outside the main reception area, now filled with people dancing. She is in a hallway open to the back veranda, behind a potted plant, on a chair one of the very nice waitstaff have brought for her. She looks at her watch. It’s only 11:50, but she wants to go home. She peers beyond the plant and sees Joshua and Alicia dancing the foxtrot. They look like they’re having a grand time, and she doesn’t want to make them leave. They’re doing quite well on the floor—William had insisted they learn ballroom dancing—but they’re getting a wide berth from all the guests. She supposes that Night Elves are as skilled as Deirdre’s usual hangers-on at sensing riff-raff. She feels bile rising in her stomach. Magic doesn’t seem to be so much a possibility for her children, so much as another world of privilege they don't belong to. She closes her eyes … no, she’d made it without money or magic before. She’d been born poor, made it into the middle class with her first husband, Alicia’s and Joshua’s father, and managed to hang onto that after he died. And then she’d met her second husband, William, Cindy’s father, in a bereavement group and somehow wound up very wealthy …
… and then the realms had opened up and a deranged Norse God had destroyed several blocks of Chicago. William, their business, and their home had been literally crushed in an instant. She’d lost her husband; the children had lost their father. Money would have been a cold comfort at that time; still, it would have allowed Marcia to take time off to help her children recover from their grief. Unfortunately, insurance policies had exemptions for ‘acts of God.’ She’s just barely hanging on now, with a mortgage for a destroyed home to pay, her rent, and four mouths to feed. But things will get better. She scrunches her eyes shut. No, they won’t, because she won’t be alive ...
Marcia bites her lip. After all that ‘magic’ had done for her, why has she brought her children here? She’ll round them up, and take them home. She looks past Joshua and Alicia for Cindy. In tow with Deidre, Cindy has been fawned over by the vampire prince the whole evening. Marcia shakes her head. He is not a vampire prince—he is a Night Elf. Marcia blinks out at the reception area. She sees Deidre, but where is Cindy?
From the veranda, she hears a splash of water, and a laugh that is familiar. Marcia goes cold. The pain in her side is suddenly screaming, but she bolts from her chair, and moves as quickly as she can out the door, and into the warm night.
Down a long flight of steps, she sees Cindy, sitting on the edge of a fountain, the dark hair of the prince a shadow against her neck. It might be the pain in her side, or the earlier hallucinations, but Marcia runs to the top of the stairs, and shouts, “Don’t hurt her!”
The prince raises his head. Cindy turns to Marcia and her jaw drops.
Behind Marcia a masculine voice says, “You heard her, Rayne.”
A sneer forming on his handsome features, the prince narrows his eyes at the masculine speaker behind Marcia.
“She’s only sixteen,” Marcia gasps, as though that could possibly make a difference.
The prince’s eyes bolt wide, and he gets up hastily. Without a backward glance at Cindy, he hops off the wall of the fountain, runs up the stairs, and bows to Marcia. “Madam, I apologize, I had no idea.” To the masculine speaker, he says some words in a strange musical language, and then puts his hand over his mouth and, turning visibly green, runs away. Marcia has a distinct impression he might vomit.
“You ruin everything!” Cindy hisses, charging up the stairs. “I hate you!”
And then she runs for the hallway. Marcia wants to go after her, but she’s suddenly dizzy with pain and her own nausea.
The man the prince had addressed sighs. “Teenagers.”
Clutching her side, Marcia lifts her eyes. It is the same vampire-Night-Elf-man she’d seen earlier. He looks all of twenty-eight. Maybe. She doesn't see fangs this time. She had been hallucinating, obviously.
“The years my children were teens …” He shakes his head and crosses his arms, looking after Cindy.
The words seem out of place on his youthful face, but Marcia has heard rumors that elves are immortal.
She huffs, and says what she always says at these times. “They have four times the hormones of an adult. That makes them practically insane.” She shrugs and catches her breath.
“That is a very generous interpretation of their situation.” He smiles wryly and says, “It was the worst century of my life.”
Marcia blinks at him, thinking of all the fights she’d had this year with Joshua and Cindy, and all the times Alicia had gone to her room, her face streaming with tears, unwilling to talk about it. “I have never considered the advantages of a short life,” Marcia says.
The corners of the man’s lips turn up. Bowing slightly, he holds out a hand, palm up. “Madam, you seem to require assistance.”
Marcia takes a step back, her hand fluttering to her throat. His eyes follow her fingers, his gaze intent, and she gasps. She sees the fangs, again. Frozen in place, she looks down at the vampire’s hand, and she sees … an ending, and peace. And suddenly, that is what she wants so much. Her struggle isn’t just with her emotional teenagers. It is dealing with their school, with the teachers who aren’t helping Joshua deal with bullies, and with Deirdre, who fills Cindy’s mind with tales of how deprived the girl is, but only wants Cindy whe
n it is convenient for her. And it is Marcia’s responsibilities to her extended family, her continuing battle with insurance agencies, and the specter of her disease looming over like a dark shadow.
She wants to take his hand, but instead she draws back. “I have to stay with my children,” she says. For as long as I can. She still feels sick, her side still hurts, but she bolts from the veranda.
In the car not fifteen minutes later, Cindy screeches, “I lost my shoe!”
Chapter 2
The next morning, Marcia wakes up on the couch to the reek of garbage. Her cell phone is ringing. Seeing her brother’s number, she picks up.
“Marcia,” Fernando says without preamble, “the assisted living center is saying that you requested that I be given durable power of attorney for Mother and Father.”
“Yes,” says Marcia. “I need you to do that, Fernando, I’m—”
“My firm is going public,” Fernando says. “I’m pulling eighty hours a week right now.”
“What about Sarah?” Marcia says, referring to Fernando’s wife. “She is staying at home; you have a nanny, and—”
“We can’t have Sarah making medical decisions for our parents!” says Fernando.
“I like Sarah,” Marcia says. “She—”
“Is too busy with our twins,” says Fernando.
Marcia scrunches her eyes shut. “But I have—”
There is a light ping at the other end of the line and Fernando says, “It’s my investors, I have to go.” And he’s gone.
Marcia puts her head in her hands. It’s been years since she lost William, and she had thought she was used to it. She loved William. They may not have always been perfect together, but they were always on each other’s team. Now she is playing solo, and the weight of his absence is suddenly so heavy she feels like she can’t breathe. She sucks in a deep breath, to prove to herself she still can … and is overwhelmed by the reek of garbage.
Throat tight, she gets up and goes to the kitchen. Alicia’s and Joshua’s doors are shut. Cindy is leaning against the counter, eating yogurt from the container, last night’s makeup smeared down her face. She still looks gorgeous, but …
“How can you eat with the reek?” Marcia asks.
Throwing her yogurt container in the sink, Cindy hisses, “Deidre says you were ridiculous,” storms out, and slams her door. Marcia should feel angry, but then she hears Cindy break down into sobs.
She feels her stomach churn. If she doesn’t take the garbage out, Joshua might, but he’ll complain about it the entire time. Cindy will call him a drama queen, he’ll say “pot, you’re black,” and the situation will go downhill from there. If Joshua doesn’t take the garbage out, Alicia will. She won’t complain, won’t say a word … she’ll just do it. And for some reason, Marcia finds that scenario worse.
Sighing and holding her nose, Marcia opens the garbage can. A moment later she steps out of their apartment and pads down the hall in her pajamas, her nose wrinkled, her stomach about to heave, carrying a stinking, dripping bag of fermented yuck. She’s almost at the door of the garbage chute when a voice behind her says, “Madam, may I help you with that?”
She turns, sees a man with fangs, screams, and promptly drops the garbage. The man swoops in, picks up the garbage, and points to the door Marcia was just about to go into. “Is that the rubbish chute?”
She nods dumbly. It’s the same man-vampire she’d spoken to last night, the one with the teenagers, not the one who’d tried to seduce her daughter.
The man-maybe-vampire disappears into the garbage room.
The door to Marcia’s apartment opens. Alicia hangs off the door frame into the hallway and demands, “Mom, did you take out the garbage again?”
Marcia darts for the door. Joshua’s indignant voice rises from within the apartment. “You made Mom take out the garbage!”
She hears Cindy angrily retort, “She decided to take it herself!”
Joshua roars, “Because you were too lazy and now the house smells like putrid chicken!”
“I’m sticking this piece of bubblegum in your sewing machine!” screams Cindy.
Feeling her stomach roiling, Marcia rushes past Alicia and says, “Shut the door!” Not pausing for breath she gasps, “Cindy, don’t you dare!”
“Ah, I see I have come to the right domicile,” says the man.
Marcia blinks. Cindy comes running out of Joshua’s room with her brother in hot pursuit so fast that Marcia’s head spins. She turns and finds the maybe vampire in the doorway. Alicia’s lips are parted, her eyes are wide, and she’s looking quickly between Marcia and the maybe bloodsucker.
“Mom,” Alicia whispers. “I recognize him from the party. We shouldn’t slam the door in his face.”
Before Marcia can protest, the man asks, “May I come in?” He is definitely a vampire! Marcia can see his fangs when he talks.
Throwing up her hands, Marcia implores, “Don’t let him—”
“Sure,” says Cindy.
He steps in with a smile, giving Marcia an odd look. Alicia shuts the door behind him. Eyes wide, Marcia backs up. She tries to think of anything in the kitchen that might do as a wooden stake and gestures for Alicia to stand next to her. Alicia just looks at her quizzically.
“How can we help you?” says Joshua, rolling on his heels. Cindy elbows him. He elbows her back.
Marcia wonders if she can hit a wooden spoon against a counter hard enough to break it and give it a sharp point. She starts slowly edging toward the kitchen, motioning for Alicia to follow. Alicia’s brow furrows, but she doesn’t move. Marcia sucks in a breath. Normally, she thinks of her eldest child as the most perceptive one.
The vampire clears his throat. “I apologize for disturbing you. My name is Darerick Razvano …” A long litany of syllables follows. He must see their slack jaws because he clears his throat and adds, “Please just call me Dare. I’ll be working with the Night Elf embassy. First off, I want to return this.” He opens a satchel and pulls out a package wrapped in blue tissue paper. Bowing to Cindy, he says, “Your shoe, madam.”
Cindy smiles, puts a hand to her mouth, and walks forward to take it. Before she can, Marcia snatches it from his hand, and hands it to Cindy, glaring at the vamp. Cindy gives Marcia a dirty look, but then smiles at Dare and says, “And?”
The vampire opens his mouth as though to speak, and the fangs are there! Can’t her children see them? Are they just blinded by how handsome he is, how other worldly?
“If you’re here for Cindy’s hand in marriage, take her,” Joshua says.
“Joshua!” Marcia hisses, edging toward the kitchen.
“Pardon?” the vampire says, eyes widening, and skin flushing all the way to the ears. He’s deviously hidden their pointy tips behind his curls, Marcia notices. When her family’s bodies are found later, the neighbors won’t identify the man who entered their home as an elf.
Cindy doesn’t hear Joshua or doesn’t care. Blinking up at the vamp, she gushes, “The prince? Did he send you?”
The vampire’s jaw drops and he looks at Cindy. “Ah,” he says, and Marcia can see the exact moment he catches on to what she’s getting at. “He did not send me. I have business this way, and I thought I might return the shoe as well.”
Cindy’s face crumples. She bows her head, turns on her heel, walks to her room, and slams the door. Marcia has one kid out of the way; now, how to get the other two behind her? She gestures to Alicia again. “Mom, are you feeling alright?” Alicia asks.
The vampire looks at Marcia’s eldest daughter, and back to Marcia. “My primary order of business is to speak to you, madam. It is a matter of most urgent importance.”
Marcia says, “You’re—” She almost says a vampire. Catching her breath, she smells garbage, on her, and on him. It gives her pause. Had she ever seen a horror movie where a vampire helped take out the garbage?
“He’s a Night Elf, Mom,” Joshua says, in the same tone he uses to say, you’re embarrassing me.
“—not as dangerous as you perhaps think,” the vampire says, gold-flecked eyes on her.
The kids look between themselves and shrug.
The vampire takes a deep breath and adds, “The survival of my species is at stake.” He winces. “If you’ll pardon the expression.”
Marcia raises an eyebrow. The kids’ lips purse. After a long pause, Alicia says, “Mom, I think you have to help him.”
“Yeah, Mom, I don’t think the Sierra Club will ever let you back in if you refuse to save an endangered species,” Joshua adds.
Marcia glares at the vampire. He looks … contrite? He’s in her home, and if he was going to attack them, wouldn’t he have done that by now? Also, it’s daylight, and he’s out and about. Since the realms have opened up, humans have learned that a lot of the things they believed about magical creatures weren’t true. Is it possible, vampire fearsomeness might be another myth? Or maybe he’s not a vampire at all. Maybe he sucks the nectar out of flowers, or some such with those fangs. She huffs. No, she doesn’t believe that.
Looking nervously to the side, he says, “We need to speak someplace private … if you don’t mind?”
Vampires in myths and movies don’t talk nicely. They either bite you and drain your blood or use magic to control you and drain you later. Marcia swallows. There is only one place to talk that doesn’t entail leaving her children.
“The balcony is private,” she says.
He looks beyond her. “Ah, there?” he asks. The apartment is rather small.
Marcia nods. “Yes.”
He raises his hands. “May I wash up first? My hands smell like putrid chicken.”
More than anything, that makes Marcia think he might not be immediately dangerous.
Marcia points to the right. “Powder room right there.” She watches him go in, and then glances at the balcony. It’s early morning, but the balcony is western-facing, so there is no sun. Putting her hand to her side, she wonders if he gives up his right to entry as soon as he steps out. She also wonders if she can push him off the balcony.
Once Upon A Curse: 17 Dark Faerie Tales Page 8
