by S. J. West
The large bathroom connected to my room has a claw-foot bathtub that I decide to take advantage of. After a long, warm soak, the tension I feel about attending the party begins to ebb away. As I’m drying off with a towel, Helen comes into my room to help me get ready for the evening. She’s definitely more adept at handling my hair than I am, so I let her style it for me. She has it curled into cascades of soft wispy waves before I know it. I do my own makeup, but I take her advice about making it a bit more dramatic than how I normally wear it. I apply a bit more eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick.
When Helen lays my dress out on the bed, I realize I’m missing one crucial element to my glamorous ensemble.
“I don’t have any shoes!”
Helen slaps the palm of her right hand against her forehead as if she’s suddenly developed an excruciating headache.
“Good Lord, I completely forgot about shoes,” she moans despondently. “I must be getting forgetful in my old age.”
While we’re discussing whether Helen has time to run into town to buy me some shoes, there’s a knock on my door.
“It’s Julian,” I tell Helen. I can feel his presence out in the hallway.
“You didn’t happen to bring any shoes, did you?” Helen inquires as she opens the door for Julian.
“Uh, no,” Julian says looking confused. “Sarah doesn’t have any shoes?”
When Julian walks in, I feel like all the oxygen in the room suddenly disappears. I can’t seem to remember how to breathe as I contemplate how dashing he looks in his outfit.
Is it proper to call a man stunning? That’s the only word that my befuddled brain can come up with as I stare at him.
He’s dressed in what looks like a black tuxedo but the jacket has a satin mandarin collar and button-less front, which is edged in black satin. His shirt is made of dark red silk with a white collar and cuffs peeking out of the sleeves. He’s wearing a matching red vest and no tie. The shirt is folded where a tie should have been with a single black button holding the folds together mimicking a tie.
Julian stares at me, too, with his infuriatingly expressionless face.
“We forgot shoes,” is all I can think to say to him.
Julian narrows his eyes at me for a moment as if he suspects there’s something wrong with me. I probably look like a besotted schoolgirl, completely overwhelmed by the situation she finds herself in, which is precisely how I feel.
“I’ll go see if Mira has some you can wear,” he tells me before I can ask him not to. I’m sure Mira will get a kick out of hearing the country bumpkin doesn’t have any shoes to wear to her grand gala.
A few minutes later, Julian returns with a shoebox in his hands.
“These should fit you,” he says before kneeling in front of me on one knee and taking the lid off the box. Inside is a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes. I’m sure they cost as much as my monthly rent. They’re nude in color with 3-inch high heels and a bejeweled bow on the side. They will certainly go with my dress, but does he honestly think I’ll be able to dance in shoes that tall without breaking an arm or a leg? Possibly both…
“I can’t wear those,” I tell him as he takes one out, acting like he’s going to put them on me himself.
“Of course you can,” he professes. “They’re your size.”
“That isn’t what I mean,” I say irritably, because he’s talking to me like I’m a child. “I’ll break my neck trying to wear those things. I tried to wear high heels to my senior prom and almost broke my neck just trying to walk down the stairs.”
“Sarah,” Julian says indulgently, looking up from his kneeling position, “with your added agility, you can probably walk a tightrope twenty feet in the air in these shoes and never take one misstep. You need to trust me. You’ll be fine.”
Oh, yeah. I had forgotten about that. I still haven’t put my new super powers to the test. Well, not really. I don’t think eating contests with Daniel count as a proper trial of my superhuman agility; definitely not super-strength.
I lift one foot off the floor and let Julian slip the shoes onto my feet.
Once the shoes are on, I walk back and forth in front of him to test my balance. I find that he’s right. I don’t feel awkward in the shoes at all. In fact, the added height makes me feel more confident.
“I guess I’m ready,” I say, turning around to look at Julian.
“You’ll be the belle of the ball tonight,” Helen says, beaming with pride. “I just wish I could witness Mira’s reaction when she sees you.”
“You won’t be there at all?” I ask. I just assumed she would be coming with us.
“No, dear. The help isn’t allowed to attend the big event.”
“I talked to Mira about that.” Julian’s annoyance with his sister is obvious in his tone. I’m glad to hear it. “She won’t make that mistake again, Helen. I apologize for her rudeness to you.”
“It’s just as well. I’ve always wanted to visit Canal Street and Jackson Square to see what all the fuss is about. You two have a wonderful time tonight. Don’t worry about me; just watch each other’s backs.”
What was that supposed to mean? I don’t have a chance to ask because Helen leaves the room.
Julian looks back at me and allows himself a moment to study how I look in my companion outfit.
“I think Helen is right,” he tells me, lifting his gaze to meet my eyes again. “Mira is going to be jealous when she sees you in that dress, considering how beautiful you look in it.”
“Thank you,” I say, averting my gaze from his because I don’t want him to see how his words are affecting me.
I’m a complete idiot. I know I can’t have a future with Julian, but that’s what my heart is starting to yearn for. I don’t even know if he would want the same thing. Sure, we’ve sort of had a couple of make-out sessions, but neither of us has brought them up in the light of day. I’m not sure why that is, either. It’s almost like those moments are separate from our normal lives. Yet what about my life has remained normal since meeting Julian?
“Shall we go?” Julian holds his arm out to me expectantly. I slip my arm through his and take a deep, steadying breath.
“Don’t worry,” he says, patting my hand for added reassurance. “Everything will be fine.”
As we walk down the stairs to the first floor, I can hear the soothing strings of an orchestra playing outside.
Julian walks me to the back of the house to a pair of doors leading out onto a veranda. It appears that most of the guests have already arrived and are enjoying themselves immensely as they talk and laugh with one another. Mira’s backyard is like a miniature version of the garden at the Palace of Versailles. My arm involuntarily tightens around Julian’s, betraying my nervousness.
“It’s all right,” he whispers in a calm voice. “None of them are going to bite you, Sarah. Only I get to have that pleasure.”
I can’t help but laugh a little at his joke. When I look over at him, he winks at me.
“Come on, I want to introduce you to Petru. He’s a very old and dear friend of mine.”
As we walk through the throng of people, it feels like everyone’s eyes are on us. I’m sure I’m just allowing my imagination to run away with me. We walk up to a young man, who doesn’t appear to be older than eighteen, with a face so beautiful and perfectly proportioned he almost looks feminine. He has short black hair that’s stylishly messy and is wearing a simple black tuxedo with a bow tie.
“Petru,” Julian says to the young man, “I would like to introduce you to my new companion, Sarah.”
Petru doesn’t bother with shaking my hand. Instead, he kisses me straight on the lips. It’s a chaste kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. Julian doesn’t seem to mind, so I don’t let it bother me either. There was no sexual intent behind the peck anyway. It was more like a kiss an old friend would bestow upon you after being separated for a great length of time.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Sarah.” Petru’s accent isn’t as smooth
as Julian’s, but not quite as harsh as Adrian’s.
“I’m pleased to meet you, too, Petru.”
“I think you’ve caught the attention of everyone here,” he whispers to me in a conspiratorial manner as his gaze travels around the throng of partygoers present.
So I wasn’t just imagining things. Everyone is looking at us.
“And why wouldn’t they?” He smiles at me with a boyish charm that helps put me at ease. “You are exquisite.”
I try my best not to blush, but I’m pretty sure I fail miserably since Petru begins to laugh.
“Don’t worry, dear Sarah. I’m sure Julian will protect you from anyone who’s foolish enough to attempt bedding you this evening.”
I can’t think of a witty retort to his statement. What would have been a decent response?
“Enough, Petru,” Julian admonishes, not taking his friend’s comments as being disrespectful. “I think you’ve embarrassed Sarah enough for one night.”
“Well, I’m just telling her the truth, old friend. If my predilections steered toward the fairer sex, I would certainly be considering a romp in one of your sister’s bedrooms with your companion.”
“Enough.” Julian says more forcefully, as if he’s warning Petru that he needs to temper his words. “Sarah has no idea what types of creatures are around her. She needs our protection more than she needs you teasing her.”
Petru smiles. “Quite right.” He snaps his heels together as if he’s a soldier, and bows to me. “Forgive me, Sarah. I forgot you’re new to our world. I will do my best to ensure your safety this evening.”
Am I in actual danger here? That hadn’t even occurred to me. What could be dangerous at a party, besides the possibility of choking on a pig-in-the-blanket or tripping over my own two feet? The latter of those two concerns has been a constant worry for me ever since we stepped out of my room.
I assume Petru is a vampire since Julian referred to him as an ‘old friend’. As far as the rest of the people at the party are concerned, I don’t have a clue who or what they are. I decide, for my own safety, I’ll need to bring down the wall protecting me from the feelings of those surrounding us so I can better gauge who might be a threat and who isn’t. I don’t want to do it. I never do it in such a large crowd. If I have to guess, there are probably close to a hundred people present. But if Julian and I are in danger, I need to use all of the resources available in my small arsenal of gifts to protect us.
I slowly test the people around us first. Most are just curious about me. I presume that’s because I’m the newest addition to the vampire community. I let my guard down a little further to include more in my circle, and come into contact with someone who has rather volatile and hostile emotions towards almost everyone present. I glance over my shoulder to find the person of interest. He isn’t hard to pick out of the crowd.
Standing by the water fountain, holding the stem of a champagne glass loosely between his beefy fingers, is a man who reminds me of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson when he was in his prime wrestling form. He’s staring at us with a gaze that can only be described as hard and contemptuous. I’m not sure how long I stare back at him, expecting him to turn away or acknowledge the fact that I’m looking at him. Julian has to touch me on the shoulder to regain my attention. I turn my head back around, but I can still feel the stranger’s eyes on me.
“Who is he?” I ask Julian.
“What is he would be a more appropriate question,” Julian answers, quickly glancing in the stranger’s direction. “He’s a werewolf named Damien. I would suggest you stay away from him.”
“Why? Is he dangerous?”
“He doesn’t like vampires; most werewolves don’t.”
“Then why is he at a party thrown by a vampire?”
“Good question,” Petru remarks dryly, staring over my shoulder at the werewolf. “I’ve never understood what it is your sister sees in those mangy mongrels, or what they see in her for that matter, if I’m being honest.”
Julian shrugs. “You would have to ask her those questions. I can’t say for sure. She has always liked dogs for pets, though.”
Petru guffaws so loudly the people around us start to openly gawk at him. He doesn’t seem to mind their attention, and I know then that I will like Petru very much. He’s a free spirit who doesn’t care what other people think about him. How I wish I could be that comfortable in my own skin. Maybe it takes living four hundred years to build up that sort of self-esteem.
“What other types of people are here?” I use the term ‘people’ loosely because I don’t know what else to call them.
Petru looks to the right of us and nods his head. “Over there you have the alfar.”
“What’s an alfar?” I have to ask, never having heard the term used before.
“The word you would use to refer to them is elves,” Julian explains, “but they hate being called that. They’re definitely not the cute little elves Santa has working in his workshop. These would more than likely burn the North Pole down to the ground.”
“That’s their queen in the middle of them, wearing the large crown,” Petru points out. “Her name is Shael.”
When I look over to where Petru indicates, I expect to see a group of light- skinned, pointy-eared people. I’m surprised to find that they look disappointingly normal. Some are pale, but for the most part they all have varying shades of skin tones ranging from white to black. I try to see if their ears are pointy, like Tolkien described them, but unfortunately their ears look pretty normal, too.
The queen is the only one who even comes close to what I expect an elf to look like. She is the palest person I have ever seen, and her skin is as perfect as porcelain. She’s wearing a brown silk dress with a feathered bodice. Her hair is long and blonde. A tall wispy crown made of platinum and diamonds adorns the top of her head. Her eyes are as green as emeralds and her lips shine ruby red. When she laughs, it’s almost like light emanates from her. It’s obvious she’s a person content with her life and happy with those around her. A small movement catches my eye near her feet, and it’s only then that I notice the cat sitting next to her.
It’s a white cat, but unlike any normal house cat I’ve ever seen. If anything, this cat looks more elvish than most of the elves, or alfar, surrounding it. It has a long svelte body with short, shiny white hair. Two pointy ears jut out from the top of its upside down triangular face and two prominent blue eyes are watching those around the queen with immense caution. I’ve never been able to sense the feelings of animals, but this cat is different. I’m getting a definite vibe of restlessness from it. While I stare at it, the cat turns its small head and looks directly at me. Its eyes form narrows slits as if it’s sizing me up. Then it turns to the queen and meows. She quickly bends down to pick up the feline and cradles it in her arms as though it’s a cherished friend, not just a pet.
“What kind of cat is that?” I ask my companions.
“We’ve been told it’s an Oriental Blue Point Siamese cat,” Julian tells me, also looking at the queen. “Though, I’ve had my suspicions he’s more than just a feline.”
So do I. He is definitely not ordinary.
“What else are here?” I ask Petru, since he seems to be in the mood to introduce me to the gathering of creatures surrounding us and increasing my knowledge of the supernatural.
He looks at the group of people directly behind him and turns back around to me.
“Back there are the witches and warlocks. Nasty bunch for the most part. I wouldn’t bother messing with any of them, if I were you. They’re very temperamental, and jealous of us for having eternal life.”
I take a quick look behind Petru and make a mental note not to involve myself with them. From the wave of discontent and jealousy I sense from the group, I understand Petru’s warning all too clearly. Although, there is one bright light in the midst of their darkness. He’s standing slightly away from the others, talking with a witch who is obviously enamored with him. He’s
handsome and of average height and weight, with light brown hair parted to the side. I sense he doesn’t want to be at the party, but he is curious about something he hopes to see here.
The small orchestra draws my attention by playing something very loud in order to ensure everyone turns toward them. Fredrick, Mira’s butler, walks out onto the balcony with a spotlight shining down on him.
“Ladies and gentleman, I would like to present your hostess for the evening and the guest of honor: Mira Movila and Adrian Costel!”
The crowd gives polite, yet controlled, applause as the two make their dramatic entrance into the party. I end up hearing a few snickers around me when the couple appears before us on the veranda. I have to admit I would have snickered, too, if Julian hadn’t been standing right next to me. Since Mira is his sister, I can’t disrespect him in such a way.
The pair comes out onto the balcony dressed like a king and queen. Mira is in a beautiful white satin ball gown with gold embroidered fleur-de-lis scattered around the skirt. Adrian is dressed in a black velvet jacket with a white ruffled shirt underneath and gold pantaloons with white stockings and black gold buckled shoes.
What makes some people snicker, almost including myself, are the obnoxiously large feather contraptions each is wearing across their shoulders. They have to be at least three feet tall and just as wide covered in white feathers, gold ribbon, and crystals. I can only assume they’re only able to balance them on their shoulders because of their strength as vampires.
They walk hand in hand to the edge of the balcony.
“Welcome dear friends,” Mira shouts, smiling to her captive audience. “Thank you all for coming to my little get-together to welcome Adrian to our fair city. Make sure you say hello to him when you get a chance, but above all else have a good time!”
Everyone claps and cheers politely as the king and queen of the ball make their way down to us lowly commoners. When they reach the foot of the steps, a group of servants is there, waiting to take the feathered ornamentations off their shoulders. Mira and Adrian make their way through the guests and eventually end up in our little circle of three.
