by Gayla Twist
It was my turn to be surprised. “Why would I post it on the Internet?” I wanted to know.
“Isn’t that what people your age do?” He raised both eyebrows. “I thought it was all about sharing your life in the digital age.”
“Yeah, well it’s not what I’m all about,” I informed him.
“Okay, good,” he said, flashing me a smile. “Just don’t be disappointed if you don’t like the results.” I stared at him a moment, not quite sure what he meant, until he nodded at the camera. “Besides, if we’re going to take your passport photo, you have to show me what to do.”
“Oh, come on,” I said, searching the camera for the on button. “I’m sure they had cameras back when you were human.”
“True,” Jessie had to admit. “But I never had one. And since being turned, there didn’t seem much of a point.”
“Most cameras these days are super easy,” I told him. “They’re really just point and shoot.” I pressed the button on the instamatic. The camera made a weird whirring noise, and a black square of cardboard popped out. The film was in place and ready to go. Jessie flinched back a little as if he didn’t quite trust the camera. I had to suppress a giggle. “Okay,” I said standing next to him and turning the camera to point at us. “Say cheese.”
“Say what?” He gave me an incredulous look.
“Oh, never mind.” I had no idea where the whole “say cheese” thing had come from. “Just smile.” I pushed the button. The camera’s flash went off. It made that weird moving, grinding sound, and the undeveloped picture slid out the bottom. “That’s about it,” I said, removing the picture.
Jessie squinted at the square. “I told you it wouldn’t work,” he said with a small frown.
“It’s an instamatic,” I informed him. “It takes a minute to develop.”
The square of film slowly came into focus—first me, then the background, and then Jessie. He looked ridiculously handsome, of course, but a little faded, a little fuzzy around the edges like someone had tried to erase him without much success. Looking over my shoulder at the picture, Jessie said, “That’s pretty good. I guess it’s obvious I like you.”
“Huh?” My body was all tingly with him standing so close. It was hard to focus. I didn’t quite understand what he meant.
“A lot of whether a vampire appears in a photograph has to do with the desire to appear,” he explained. “There aren’t a lot of humans out there we can trust.”
I looked at his slightly blurry image in the photo again. “So, you’re saying you mostly trust me but not quite?” I wondered if he would appear clearly in a photograph for Colette. A wave a jealously flashed over me. But it was stupid to feel that way over someone who had been dead for several decades.
Jessie chuckled, “This is the best I’ve ever appeared in a photograph, so I think you should take it as a compliment.”
I shrugged, feeling slightly mollified.
“Did you know most spirit photography is vampires?” he asked casually. He loved hitting me with little vampire trivia bombs.
“What?” I tried to remember what spirit photography actually was. “You mean when people see ghosts and orbs and stuff in photographs?”
“Exactly. It’s usually vampires. Or frauds doctoring images. And dust particles a lot of the time, I guess. But sometimes it’s vampires.” After a moment he added, “Arthur Conan Doyle was a big believer in spirit photography. He thought it was all ghosts, of course.”
“You mean the guy who wrote Sherlock Holmes?”
“Exactly.” Jessie took the camera out of my hands and began looking it over. “He knew there was some truth to it but was so convinced it was the dead that he never considered the undead. That and the fact that most of the photographs he was studying were frauds. Still, he was so convinced, he wrote a book about it.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. The Case for Spirit Photography. We’ve got a copy of it around here somewhere.” He shrugged as if everyone had one.
“Wow,” I breathed. “What do you think would have happened if he’d figured out the truth?”
Jessie gave a grim smile. “I guess he should be grateful that there was one mystery he couldn’t solve. Vampires weren’t so concerned about human welfare back then.”
“Are they concerned now?” I asked, thinking about Viktor and Ilona.
He considered the question. “I’m not so sure the majority of vampires are as concerned as they are cautious. Three hundred years ago, one vampire could terrorize villagers in the Romanian countryside for decades, and there would be little to no consequence. Today, with the Internet and camera phones and modern technology, if a vampire was caught, I mean, really outed as a blood-drinking member of the undead, word could spread around the world almost instantly.”
My little fit of jealously faded to nothing as I realized how amazing it was that Jessie would trust me with his picture.
“Shall we try this?” Jessie asked, lifting the camera a little. “So, I just aim it at you and push the button?” He did just that as he was talking, and the camera ejected another tiny square of film.
“Yeah, but you have to wait until I’m ready,” I told him.
“Why?” he asked, taking another picture. “I have plenty of film.”
Boys, even vampire boys, just don’t understand the amount of pressure there can be on a girl to look good in a photograph. “Stop that,” I scolded, but that only caused him to take another snap.
“Oh, good,” he laughed. “That one should show a lot of emotion.”
I went to grab the camera, but quick as lightning, he dodged out of my grasp, firing off another shot while he was at it. “This is fun,” he said with a laugh.
Ten minutes later, between a lot of goofing around and several blurry photographs, we had the proper photos for a passport picture, as far as I could tell. “I think you apply for a passport through the post office,” I said. There was no way the post office processed passport applications overnight. I knew that for sure. But maybe it was a chance for delay. Even the Bishops had to understand that, as a human, I needed a passport. “We can pull up the forms online if you have a printer.”
“Yeah,” Jessie said drawing in a breath through his teeth. “It’s probably better if we go through less official channels.”
“How much less official?” I asked.
He shook his head slightly. “You don’t want to know.” Then he added with a wink, “But it’s a lot faster than the post office.”
I waited a few seconds to see if he would add anything to this comment, but he didn’t. “What else do we need to work on?” I asked.
Jessie took me by both hands, causing an electric thrill to run up both my arms, through my chest, and deep into my belly. “Dance lessons.”
“Dance lessons?” I was surprised. “Really?” It was Monday night, and Thanksgiving was Thursday. It didn’t seem like the ideal time to learn how to rhumba. “I thought you were going to instruct me on how to get a corpse through customs or something like that.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll need to know that, too, but as for right now,” he said, pulling me into his arms, “we dance.”
His embrace made my breath catch in my throat, but I couldn’t keep from laughing. “Will there be much dancing at the tribunal?”
“Well, not at the actual tribunal itself,” he said with a grin, “but there will be a ball while we’re in Budapest, and I thought you might like to attend.”
“A ball?” I stammered. I knew it was probably just Disney brainwashing, but I’d always secretly wanted to attend a ball.
“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Jessie said, misreading my expression.
“No,” I insisted. “I want to go. I’d love to go.”
“I thought you might.” He gave me a sly smile. “That’s why I thought we’d sneak in a quick dance lesson. I’m assuming you don’t know how to waltz. I hope that isn’t presumptive.”
“No.” I shook my h
ead. “It’s definitely not presumptive.” Besides a few ballet classes when I was in grade school, I hadn’t had much formal dance training.
It was foolish to spend a few hours dancing when danger was barreling down on us, but Jessie seemed unfazed by wasting the time, and I was thrilled at the thought of spending a few fleeting moments in his arms. And then, to attend a ball. It sounded like something out of a dream.
A sudden flash of insecurity washed over me. “What do you wear to a vampire ball in Budapest?” I asked, wondering if dipping into my college savings was justifiable for some type of gown.
“These affairs are usually pretty elaborate,” he said. “Things go in and out of fashion so quickly. Right now, I think it’s all about Rococo punk. You know, that nonsense with silk and damask and tricorn hats with feathers. I already drew up a few costume ideas and sent them to my tailor in Budapest. I hope you don’t mind. I get so bored at night sometimes with nothing to do.”
“No, I don’t mind,” I said in a small voice. Jessie treated money as if it was of no consequence, and that was the exact opposite of the way I was raised. I was so used to counting pennies and being careful.
“You’ll have to get fitted at some point, so that might spoil the surprise, but I hope you’ll like what I ordered.”
I had to gulp at the thought of Jessie standing there while some seamstress wrapped a measuring tape around my hips. “I’m sure I’ll love it,” I squeaked.
“Good.” He crooked his arm toward me and gave me a smile. “Now, let’s go to the music room and find some waltz music. Or maybe we should try the minuet,” he said, thinking it over. “I really don’t know what people are dancing to these days.”
Don’t worry about it, I mentally tried to reassure myself as Jessie led me back into the hallway. Just roll with it. When the time comes to dance, if you really feel like you’re going to make a fool out of yourself, you can always fake spraining your ankle.
Jessie patted my hand, and I looked up. I must have been wearing a strained look on my face because he gave me a concerned smile and said, “Is everything all right?”
“Oh. Sure,” I told him. “It’s just... Um... This is embarrassing, but do vampires ever, you know, need to use the bathroom?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Oh.” Then there definitely was going to be a problem. I had been too nervous to think about it earlier, but I had to go.
“But we have a few in the castle,” he informed me, much to my relief. “For staff and guests.”
“Do you get many guests?” I asked, curious about the other humans who got to roam the halls of Vanderlind Castle.
“Not really,” he said. “The music room is just at the end of this hallway.” He lifted his chin to direct my attention down the passage. Then he changed the direction he was leading me, presumably heading for the facilities. “We rarely have guests at all,” he said, reverting to our conversation. “But when we do have visitors, they are vampires mostly, but sometimes they have companions.”
I nodded, saying nothing. I wondered if that was what I was destined to become—just another vampire’s companion, a portable juice bar.
We crossed the great room again, Jessie pausing outside a door down a short hallway and to the left of the kitchen, which of course, was completely abandoned. “Here we are,” he said. “Do you think you can find your way back, or would you rather I wait here?”
The idea of Jessie pacing outside the bathroom door while I tinkled was unappealing. “I can find it,” I assured him.
By the time I got into the bathroom and locked the door behind me, my bladder was about to explode. After I had taken care of business and was blissfully relieved, I took in the bathroom’s decor. The walls were a round gray stone, a lot like the exterior of the building. I guess because vampires didn’t need that type of facility, they didn’t bother remodeling it with the beautiful gold-flecked sandstone. The toilet and sink were white porcelain of a traditional, very basic design and sparklingly clean. On the wall above the sink hung an enormous gilt mirror. It was a good six feet long and four feet high. It was so ornate, it looked like something Marie Antoinette might have gazed into at one point in time, although that was only a guess. I had no idea how to put a time period on a mirror. Taken altogether, the bathroom looked like a dungeon with really good amenities.
As I exited the powder room and headed back up the short hallway toward the great hall, I heard voices and thought Jessie was having a conversation with his mother. I slowed my steps, unsure if I would be intruding.
“Are you seriously going to let him go through with this?” a voice demanded. I realized instantly that it was Daniel—not Jessie—talking to his mother.
“I don’t see how we have a choice,” was Mrs. Vanderlind’s reply. “What would you have me do?”
“Just give them the girl,” Daniel growled. “That would settle things fast enough.”
I froze, scarcely able to breathe. I had to assume that by “the girl” he meant me. He wanted to hand me over to the Bishops.
“I think if she died, it would literally kill your brother,” Mrs. Vanderlind said. “We can’t let that happen. Not again,”
Daniel laughed—a low, dark laugh full of malice. “Well, she’s probably going to get him killed anyway. And how is that going to make our family look?”
Chapter 14
I stood in the hallway just off the great room, too afraid to move. I figured there was very little preventing Daniel from killing me right then. Besides the disapproval of his mother, of course. A large shadow fell over me. I saw a looming figure out of the corner of my eye and had to stifle a scream. “Do you need assistance, Miss Aurora?” Viggo asked.
“Uh, no,” I said hurriedly. “I was just...” I couldn’t think what I was “just” doing. “I was just leaving,” I said and knew that I meant it.
“If you vill vait for Mr. Wanderlind, he will escort you home.”
“No, I can’t wait,” I told him. “I have to leave now.” The castle was huge, but I was suddenly feeling very claustrophobic.
“Shall I show you to your car?” he asked with a slight bow.
“Please,” I whispered. To some degree, I trusted Viggo. He was human, and he had protected me before.
“Do you need to speak to Mr. Jessie before you go?” Viggo asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “He already knows I’m leaving,” I lied. I didn’t have my cardigan, but at that point, I didn't care. I just wanted to get the hell out of the castle as fast as I could.
It was hard to keep my legs from trembling as I headed for the front door with Viggo at my side. Daniel and his mother stared at me. Their expressions let me know that they knew I had heard them. “Good night,” I managed to mumble. “It was nice meeting you.” They said nothing in return, just followed my movements across the room and out the door with their gray, impenetrable eyes.
The problem with knowing vampires exist is that it makes it impossible to fully relax while being outside at night. The walk from the castle to my car was awful. Even with the giant at my side, I kept feeling like some creature was about to dive on me from out of the sky.
Once Viggo had seen me safely into my car, he said in a very somber voice, “You should not be driving alone at night. You should vait for Mr. Wanderlind.”
“I can’t wait,” I told him. “I have to go now.”
“Be careful,” he said. “Especially vhen you get out of your car.”
“Thanks,” I choked out before locking the doors, stepping on the gas, and chugging toward the gate. Fortunately, the guard had seen me coming, so I didn’t have to wait too long. Once I was through the gate, I jammed on the gas and got the hell out of there.
Driving when you’re scared out of your mind is pretty challenging. I kept thinking I saw menacing creatures soaring through the air or dark shadows darting between the trees. I was being stupid. I knew I was being stupid. I should have waited for Jessie. That would have bee
n the smart thing to do. But my urge to bolt was too strong. I had to get the hell away from Daniel and his plan to sacrifice me to save the family reputation.
When I pulled into the driveway and clicked the garage door opener, I forced myself to scan the garage for a moment to make sure no one was in there waiting for me. I knew a vampire couldn’t enter our home without an invitation, but they could have sent someone else. And it was a good policy anyway, even if I wasn’t being stalked by the undead.
Pulling into the garage, I waited until the door was fully closed again before I unlocked the car door and got out. I wasn’t feeling all that composed, and I knew my mother would probably suspect something was wrong, but I wanted to get the hell into the house.
The first thing I noticed as I scurried inside was a large bouquet of pink roses in a vase on the kitchen table. Did my mom have a new boyfriend that I was unaware of or something? “Hi, Sweetie,” she called from the living room where she was reading on the couch.
“Hey, Mom,” I called back, trying to make my voice sound normal and not like someone who had just been scared witless. “Who sent the flowers?”
“I don’t know,” was the reply. “They’re for you.”
“For me?” I said, mostly to myself. Who the heck would send me flowers? Even with a vampire’s lightning speed, there was no way Jessie could have figured out I was gone, found a florist open past nine o’clock at night, and then sped them over to my house before I pulled into the garage. Could he?
My hands fumbled for the card. It simply read
Does he send you flowers?
xo Fred
“Oh, great,” I grumbled. Blossom had been right; Fred did enjoy a bit of competition.
“Good flowers or bad flowers?” Mom asked, strolling into the kitchen.
“Huh?” I wasn’t sure what she meant.
“There are only two reasons why most guys send flowers.” She counted them on her fingers. “One, if he’s trying to win you over to liking him. Or two, if he’s screwed up and trying to get you to forgive him.”
