by P. G. Forte
True, in those days, most of humanity had still spent their evenings huddled around small fires, seeking warmth or protection from predators such as Conrad and his kind. Facing the threat of immolation at each and every meal had been no picnic, to be sure. Ah, but such glorious darkness had stretched between those isolated blazes, mile upon mile of it in some places. He missed those days.
Nowadays, he still managed to spend the larger portion of his time in an atmosphere that at least approximated something close to darkness, but not tonight. Tonight, Damian had decreed their guests must be accommodated and human tastes taken into consideration. Apparently, this meant the entire household had to be illuminated as brightly as though ’twere lit by the noonday sun itself…at least as Conrad recalled it, at a distance of several centuries. He had never wished more ardently for a new year to arrive with all possible haste, so that everyone here tonight might return to their homes forthwith and leave him in peace.
The noise was equally annoying. It maybe even had an edge on the lights, due to its sheer unpredictability. Shrill laughter, excited greetings, loud and increasingly drunken discussions—they eddied and flowed for no discernable reason and radiated from all directions. His hearing was such that he could discern the slightest whisper from across the room with ease. Unfortunately, no one present tonight was talking at anything close to a whisper.
Occasionally, all those voices did subside into something approaching a dull drone, but even then there was still the matter of Damian’s questionable musical choices to contend with. Assuming the noise issuing incessantly from the stereo could be termed music. Conrad was not at all certain about that. Nor could he imagine what had possessed him to allow the purchase of such a demonic contraption in the first place. Doubtless that was Damian’s fault as well. As was the almost overpowering mélange of fragrances that he knew would linger in the air for weeks afterwards, a combination of cigarettes and alcohol, a wide range of food products, both sweet and savory, and entirely too many competing perfumes.
Then again, on further consideration, perhaps the most annoying factor of all was the guests themselves. Ten years of relative isolation, while not a particularly lengthy stretch of time, had left Conrad ill-prepared for this sudden onslaught. It would not be so bad, perhaps, if he were able to take advantage of the throng and slake a little of the inevitable hunger their presence had stirred up, but Damian had made clear that eating was also a verboten activity.
It was critical that the twins get sufficient practice in controlling their impulses, Damian had argued. Even in the face of this much temptation, they must be able to hold their instincts in check, a suggestion with which Conrad had heartily agreed. They were also not yet skilled enough in stealth to attempt to feed unnoticed in a room full of people. Once again, Conrad could not fault Damian’s logic.
What Conrad did not understand was why Damian should insist that he and Conrad abide by the same restrictions they’d laid on the twins. Conrad certainly needed no such practice. He’d had centuries of it! Not only were his impulses well under control, he was also exceedingly well versed in stealth.
Do as I say, not as I do. Was that not also an excellent lesson for the twins to learn? What would be the harm in Conrad’s offering to give a select few of his guests a private tour of some of the house’s more secluded rooms?
At the moment, of course, it did not appear there were any secluded rooms to tour. The house had been thrown wide open and was currently packed to overflowing with more people than Conrad would have thought possible for it to contain. He must be the only person in the entire county to be hosting a party tonight, if the number of people intent on crowding into his home was any indication. Didn’t anyone stay at home on New Year’s Eve?
An Open House. The event certainly was living up to its name, but what would possess anyone of sound mind to wish to open his house to all and sundry? And where had Damian even heard of the term?
“Fabulous party, Quintano.”
The voice, an unfamiliar one, pulled Conrad from his thoughts. “Er, yes. Thank you,” he responded politely. He gazed curiously at the man who’d addressed him. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, rather rotund, with his fashionably long hair combed sideways across his head, possibly in a lamentable attempt to disguise his receding hairline. Conrad tried hard to place him. Perhaps this was someone he’d met at one of those infernal, neighborhood block parties Damian had insisted on dragging them all to the previous summer? Block Party—another of those odd turns-of-phrase Damian was so fond of slinging about. “It seems quite a successful…er, crush.” Crush? Was that the correct term? Conrad bit back a sigh. He found it so hard at times to keep up with all the modern slang. Everything changed so quickly nowadays.
His new friend smiled. “I must say, we were quite happy to receive your invitation. The wife here has been dying to get a glimpse inside your house for years.”
“Have you?” Conrad turned his best genial-host smile on the woman in question. “And why is that?”
“Oh. Well, I mean, it-it’s just so…so elegant,” she answered, a confused blush staining her cheeks. “So unusual. So…unique, and…and historic.”
“Yes.” Conrad felt his smile slip just the slightest. Damn it, he’d warned Damian about this—hadn’t he? “Isn’t it though?”
“Boy, they really don’t make them like this anymore do they?” her husband suggested in overly cheerful tones.
Again, Conrad agreed. “No, they certainly do not.” Which, again, was precisely what he’d told Damian when the topic of buying the property first came up.
Once, a hundred years ago or more, houses like this one were quite commonplace. They still were in some locations, in San Francisco for example, where Conrad owned a house of a similar age and style. In this community, on the other hand, such architecture was something of a rarity. How were they to keep a low profile, to blend in and go about their business unnoticed with this house calling attention to them by their very presence here?
Not to mention the size of it! While considerably smaller than Conrad’s mansion in California, this house was still the largest in the community, and much bigger than any place they’d lived in the past ten years…
“Look, it even has a gymnasium!” Damian had pointed out excitedly when they’d first toured the place.
Conrad glanced quizzically at him. “And you consider that a point in its favor do you?” While many of the details of modern parlance did tend to escape him, Conrad knew—knew for a fact!—that most homes nowadays did not boast of having such a feature. His San Francisco home had one, but that was entirely different.
He supposed he should be pleased. The fact that Damian apparently placed a high value on so many of the amenities that graced Conrad’s primary residence suggested it might not be as difficult as Conrad feared to persuade Damian to move there with him when Conrad judged the time was right to return to San Francisco.
“What do we need with a gymnasium at this point?” Conrad asked.
Damian rolled his eyes. ”For the twins. I worry they have too much time on their hands and I fear we’ve been neglecting their physical education. Think of all the necessary skills we could still teach them.”
Conrad did. “They should learn to fence, I suppose. Knowing how to handle a sword is always useful.”
“Sí.” Damian smiled encouragingly. “Exactly what I was thinking. And they might learn other things as well. Acrobatics, for example.”
“Martial Arts.”
“Dancing.”
“Dancing?” Conrad frowned. “You’d call that a necessary skill?”
“Absolutamente.”
“I hope you don’t mind my saying so,” Conrad’s guest continued, speaking in diffident tones. “But when the children were little we used to tease them into behaving by threatening to drop them off here whenever they were bad. We told them the place was haunted.”
“Oh, Fred!” Fred’s wife rolled her eyes. Her cheeks grew even pinker.
“This was long before your lovely family moved in here,” she assured Conrad. “It was empty for quite some time and…well, I’m afraid it had become rather run down over the years.”
“Yes, yes,” Conrad agreed. “It certainly had!” That was yet something else he’d pointed out to Damian…
“Human nature is so very superstitious. A house like that is bound to have acquired a sinister reputation.”
Damian nodded. “Sí. I’m sure it has. In fact, I’m counting on it. That’s just what we want, is it not?”
“How so?”
“Think about it, Conrad. Isn’t it exactly the type of house that any human foolish enough to believe in vampires in this day and age would automatically assume they’d choose to live in? Television has practically guaranteed it.”
Conrad gritted his teeth. “Still failing to see why this would be an advantage.” He’d survived for centuries by doing what most humans would not expect a vampire to do. How had Damian failed to notice such a thing?
“It’s called ‘hiding in plain sight’,” Damian insisted. “If you make something too obvious, or too easy to find, people automatically discount it. It’s not exactly a new idea, you know. Edgar Allan Poe wrote quite an amusing story based completely on that concept. It was very well received at the time. I’m surprised you haven’t read it.”
“I can’t keep abreast of the whole of modern literature,” Conrad groused. “Even with unlimited time, one simply can’t read everything.”
“I imagine it’s easy for a place like this to go to pot, isn’t it?” Fred shrugged. “All you’d have to do is turn your back for a minute. The upkeep must be staggering.”
“Indeed,” Conrad replied cautiously.
“Why, I bet it costs you a pretty penny just to heat the place. Am I right?”
Heat? Cost? Conrad blinked in surprise. “Ah, yes. I’m sure it must.”
Their eyes wide, Fred and his wife stared at Conrad. “But…you would know, wouldn’t you?” Fred’s wife asked with altogether too much curiosity.
Conrad felt himself coloring. “No. My, uh…my son…is generally the one who deals with the household expenses.”
Fred nodded. “Nice.” There was a tone of grudging respect in his voice. “Wish I could get any of my kids to do something like that for me.”
Mrs. Fred smiled tightly. “Your son must have a wonderful head for business, Mr. Quintano.”
“Yes, he does,” Conrad agreed.
“About the only thing our kids know how to do with money is spend it,” Fred grumbled.
“Fred,” his wife said reproachfully. “That is so unfair. How can say such a thing?”
“Fair? I’ll tell you what’s not fair, Lillian, the pile of bills I have to wade through every month.”
Lillian—thank the fates, she had a name now—glared furiously at her husband then turned her attention back to Conrad. “Where is your charming son this evening?” she asked sweetly. “Such a good looking man. I do hope we haven’t missed seeing him?”
Conrad sighed. “I have no idea. I was actually just wondering that myself.”
Conrad knew where the twins were—stationed behind one of the refreshment tables Damian had ordered set up. Conrad had been watching them from across the room as they poured out cups of punch and offered trays of finger sandwiches, and generally behaved like perfect little hosts. He was impressed with their manners and would have thought for certain Damian would be hovering proudly nearby, offering advice and doling out praise. It had been at least half an hour since he’d seen any sign of the man. Where could he possibly have gone?
“Oh, how silly of me,” Lillian said suddenly, her face lighting up as she gazed across the room. “Look, there he is now.”
Conrad followed Lillian’s gaze. His relief at seeing that Damian had returned turned almost instantly to dismay. Damian was not alone.
“Oh, my, what an attractive couple he and his friend make!” Lillian murmured. “Don’t you think so?”
Couple? Conrad’s jaw spasmed shut, so hard he was afraid the snap was audible. They certainly were attractive, he could not deny that, almost equal in height, slim but well formed, both with a wealth of excessively styled hair and similarly dressed in a good deal of black leather. But…a couple? No. Just no. That couldn’t be right.
“Lillian!” Fred admonished in a sharp whisper.
“What?” Lillian replied, also whispering. “What did I say?”
Conrad ignored them both. It was an understandable mistake. Dressed as they were, and standing so close together—with their shoulders practically brushing against one another’s—Damian and his friend did look like a couple. In fact, they looked like a perfectly matched set. About the biggest difference in the two was the color of their hair, which only added to the effect. Still, understandable or not, it was a mistake…wasn’t it?
Conrad knew he was scowling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He considered it a good job that at least his snarling was pitched too low for human hearing to discern. The twins could hear it, of course. They raised their heads and glanced around, frowning a little in confusion. Conrad had no doubt Damian heard him as well, though he gave very little hint of it. There was only the heightened color in his cheeks, the slight tightening of his jaw to indicate that he was at all concerned.
The casual observer would have noticed nothing amiss with Damian’s appearance, which is why Conrad’s own jaw clenched even tighter when Damian’s friend leaned in to whisper, “D? Is something wrong?”
Damian shook his head. He smiled fondly at the boy. “What could be wrong?” But, all the same, his gaze flickered briefly in Conrad’s direction. It was a worried look, rife with fear and trepidation—just as it should be—and once again the boy caught it.
Frowning now, the young man turned his head. The sharp, angry glare he shot at Conrad was also brief, but loaded with challenge. Luckily, surprise kept Conrad rooted in place, too shocked by the boy’s temerity to move. A very good thing. He didn’t care to think about what might have happened otherwise. Who was this young man that he dared come into Conrad’s house and issue so obvious a challenge? And over Damian, no less! Damian who was his—all his—who had always been his…
Only his centuries of discipline kept Conrad’s temper in check, that and the still-too-painful memory of what had occurred the last time he’d lost control.
Fred cleared his throat. “She, uh, didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Conrad glanced impatiently at the man. “What’s that?”
“When she said they were a ‘couple’ she just meant, you know, that they’re a couple of guys, if you catch my drift. Not that they’re a…that they’re an actual couple or anything like that.”
“Oh! Yes! Of course! That-that’s exactly what I meant.” Lillian gibbered nervously. “Two young men who are both attractive but not together. I mean, well, of course they’re both still attractive when they’re together…that is, when they’re standing together like they are right now, but…they’re not…together. Not like that, I don’t think.”
“Of course you don’t think,” Fred grumbled quietly. “When do you ever?” He smiled a little uncertainly at Conrad. “Ah, kids these days, what are you going to do, right? The way they dress…the long hair, the makeup, the tight clothes, you can’t judge by any of that. Doesn’t mean a thing. Wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”
Conrad shook his head in confusion. What on earth were they talking about now? Then it hit him. Oh, splendid. Obviously his new neighbors had misconstrued his annoyance and concluded he was homophobic. At any other time the irony of that would have made him laugh out loud. Right now, he was not in a laughing mood.
He forced a smile. “No, you’re quite right. They are a most attractive couple, I just hadn’t expected to see them here tonight.” Or ever, for that matter.
“Right.” Fred looked relieved, but unconvinced. “Well, I’m sure we’ve taken up enough of your time. Wouldn’t want to monopoliz
e you. Mustn’t keep you from your other guests.”
“Happy New Year, Mr. Quintano,” Lillian added as her husband dragged her away. “It was lovely speaking with you.”
Conrad nodded vacantly at them, taking care to keep his smile plastered to his face for fear of what his expression might otherwise reveal. His eyes continued to track Damian’s progress as he made his way around the room, pausing from time to time to chat with various guests.
His young man never moved from Damian’s side. Occasionally, he even placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, although whether he was offering comfort, or seeking the same, Conrad couldn’t decide and really didn’t care. What concerned him more—far more in fact—was Damian’s reaction. Did Damian even notice the way he was leaning, ever so subtly, into the boy’s touch? That soft smile that lingered on his lips whenever his glance strayed to his friend’s face, was Damian even conscious of it? He looked smitten. They both did. And the beast that made its home in Conrad was enraged by it.
Mine, the beast howled loudly. All mine. Always mine. It was an old promise, one Damian had made centuries earlier, and Conrad was certain he’d meant it at the time. Was it anyone’s fault, other than Conrad’s own, if Damian no longer felt that way now?
At last, Damian stopped to introduce his new friend to the twins. The love and pride he felt for them was clear on his face. The boy shook hands with them both. Julie dimpled up at him cheerily, which was no surprise, but even Marc, usually the more cautious, smiled with friendly curiosity.
And then, at last, they were heading in Conrad’s direction. Conrad gave serious thought to the idea of seducing the boy, charming him away from Damian just to teach them a lesson, to show them both what they were up against. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done such a thing, and why should he not? Rank did have its privileges, after all. But, on the other hand, what good did he think would come of it? Damian already knew, and all too well, the depths to which Conrad could occasionally sink. Conrad certainly didn’t need to give him any more reasons to despise him.
