by Gayla Twist
Chapter 25
The music of a quintet greeted us as we entered the building’s foyer. The musicians were also wearing matching ruffled uniforms and white wigs. I didn’t know which famous classical composer they were playing, but it felt very appropriate for a room filled with aspiring Marie Antoinettes. Men were bowing; ladies were curtsying; fans were fluttering; and people were delighting over surprise encounters with someone they knew and had probably seen earlier in the week. There were a few people, beyond the servants, that I thought were still human. I sensed a certain nervous vitality about them that just wasn’t present in the undead guests, although the vampires were much more animated.
Jessie and I were arm in arm. He reached over and patted my hand after we checked my cloak. “Would you like a glass of champagne?”
“Um... What kind of champagne?” I asked.
He looked confused. “The kind with bubbles.”
“Yeah, but...” I lowered my voice. “Is it safe for me to drink?” The last time I drank champagne at a vampire party, Blossom ended up unconscious for the entire night, and I had to fight for our lives.
“Yes, it’s quite safe,” Jessie assured me. “I wouldn’t take anything a stranger offers you, but the champagne served by the staff should be safe.”
“Okay, then. Yes, please,” I told him, and Jessie flagged a passing waiter. Even without the possibility of being used as a snack, a vampire ball sounded more fraught with dangers than a wild party at a frat house.
I had no intention of getting anywhere close to tipsy, but a glass of champagne would definitely take the edge off. I knew I looked like one of the nervous humans rather than one of the vivacious undead. We walked through the crowded foyer admiring the elaborate costumes. People frequently greeted Jessie and asked to be introduced, saying things like, “So this is the little lady.” They made me feel about five years old, which I guess in vampire years, I was.
I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, but all the reckless gaiety of the crowd felt a little strained to me, a little manufactured. It was like that famous party scene in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. All the guests are supposed to be so madcap and free spirited, but it always felt contrived. Like everyone was trying too hard. I always thought that scene must be what it’s like to live in San Francisco.
“What dances are we doing now?” Jessie asked one of these casual acquaintances drifting past. The man said something that I didn’t quite catch over the pulse of the crowd, but it made Jessie grin. “That sounds perfect.”
“What is it?” I asked him. “What’s the dance?”
“Not telling,” he said, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement. “But trust me; you’re going to love it.”
I was going to love it? What could possibly be the type of dancing that I was going to love? The waltz? Jessie was so strong, he could probably just hold me up and swing me around the room. I began to feel nervous about making an ass out of myself in front of the most fashionable vampires on the planet. “Jessie?” I said in a small voice.
“Yes?” He gave me his full attention.
“I think maybe I’ve twisted my ankle.”
“You haven’t twisted your ankle,” he told me. “You’ll be fine.” He scored another glass of champagne off a tray and handed it to me. “Here’s some liquid courage, but after this we’re going to dance.”
He was right; I was being a baby. So what if I made a goof out of myself. In the eyes of most the vampires, I was just a human anyway, so it really didn’t matter.
After I finished my glass of bubbly, Jessie wouldn’t be delayed any longer. “Come on,” he said, hooking a hand around my waist so I couldn’t get away. I knew of some guys that were willing to dance, but I’d never known any guy that was eager to dance.
The dance floor was crowded with couples as we entered the room. A song was just ending, but it was too far at the tail end for me to identify what they were playing. I was definitely surprised there was a DJ and not an orchestra. The costumes in the foyer had been fanciful, but the ones in the ballroom were really over the top. There were people wearing monstrous hats and others walking on stilts. I was pleased to see that Vilma wasn’t the only vampiress to think of just wearing her underwear. Some dancers wore giant papier-mâché heads while others were dressed quite simply with the minimum of finery.
The next song started, and I could hear what sounded like a hunting bugle followed by the sound of drums or maybe horses hooves; I couldn’t tell. “What the hell?” I said mostly to myself.
“Stand and deliver!” Adam Ant commanded.
“What?” I exclaimed. Eighties music? That was what the vampires were dancing to at their fancy rococo ball? Eighties music? I knew the song well enough. My mom had grown up in the eighties, and she still loved the music.
The vampires started to shimmy and leap about. It seemed so bizarre that I couldn’t help but crack up. Soon Jessie was laughing, too, and we started to dance. “I knew you would love it,” he shouted over the beat. He was right. It was time to relax and just plain have fun.
If I was to make a play list of all my favorite eighties dance music, the vampire DJ would have come pretty close. I could have done without the Love and Rockets. Having a hundred vampires surrounding me while howling, “I’m alive, so alive,” was a little unnerving. Even Jessie let loose and sang along with the rest of them. He held me close, and I could hear his voice reverberating in his chest.
The next song was one of Blossom and my absolute favorites, “Just Like Heaven” by The Cure. Freshman year, she would sleep over, and we’d have a dance party. Whenever we’d put that song on, we would fling our arms out wide, swing them around, and sway. I don’t know if we were birds or airplanes or what. But as Blossom always said, “When you dance to The Cure, you’ve got to dance free.”
I was feeling warm and happy. Jessie was smiling, his eyes sparkling every time he looked at me. I decide to say “the hell with it,” threw my arms out wide, closed my eyes, and just enjoyed the moment.
Jessie had one arm around my waist, swaying with me to the music. I thought he was lost in the music as well, but about halfway through the song, I heard him start to chuckle.
“What?” I asked, opening my eyes.
“Look,” he said, nodding toward the other dancers. “I think you’re a hit.”
It was true. Almost everyone in the ballroom had their arms spread wide, imitating my moves. It really was the perfect way to dance to the song. Still, I felt a wave of embarrassment that I was so noticeable on the dance floor and hid my face against Jessie’s vest. I could tell he was thoroughly enjoying laughing at me.
Eventually, the DJ put on a slow song. It was one that I didn’t recognize, but it had that eighties feel with an electric keyboard in the background. Jessie put his right arm around my waist and pulled me close, his left hand holding my right. I curled into him, allowing him to guide me, feeling every single cell in my body tingle.
I couldn’t pick up on most the lyrics, but Jessie was humming along. I could feel his words rumbling in my ear. The refrain went something like, “I promise you. I promise you, I will.”
When I first met Jessie, I ended up with his tuxedo jacket for several days. I knew it was childish, but every night I would wrap the cloth arms around me and pretend I was slow dancing with him. But that was nothing compared to actually being with him, moving with him, feeling his strong arms around me. I leaned closer and inhaled the clove-covered orange fragrance of him. There are few perfect moments in life, but I knew I was experiencing one of them.
I would have been happy to keep dancing with Jessie forever, but eventually nature called, and I needed to excuse myself for the ladies room. Jessie frowned. “I should go with you.”
“To the ladies room?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“I guess you’re right,” he said. “I’m sure you won’t find any vampires in there.”
He couldn’t have been more wrong. As soon as I walked in the door, I real
ized there were at least a dozen vampiresses sitting in a little lounge area. I guess even undead women need a place to get away from men. Vilma was one of them, and she looked directly at me. I quickly walked through to the next room, where the sinks and toilets were, and did as nature intended. Then I took an extended period of time washing my hands in the hope that Vilma would be gone by the time I was ready to leave.
No such luck. When I turned away from the sink to dry my hands, Vilma was standing right behind me.
I let out a little, “Oh!” and then added, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Vampires could be lightning quick.
She fixed me with her piercing blue eyes. “Do you really think you’re the reincarnation of that dead girl? The one that Jessie was so hot for a hundred years ago?”
I wanted to tell her to go pound salt, but I found that I really couldn’t move. It was like my feet were glued to the tile. “I don’t know,” I felt compelled to say. “I feel connected to Jessie, and I sometimes dream Colette’s memories, but I don’t know what that means.”
Vilma narrowed her eyes at me. “What do you mean by connected?”
She was being awfully nosey. I mentally tried to force my feet to walk around her and out the door but couldn’t get them to move. “I mean, when I’m with him, I feel like we’re the only two people in the whole world. And when I’m not with him, I have an ache inside that can’t be filled.”
“Then why were you with that boy? The blond one. You were always smashing your face against his. That doesn’t sound like a girl who feels all hollow inside,” she snarled.
“I know,” I said, letting my shoulders slump. “I was trying to forget Jessie. He said it was too dangerous for us to be together. But it didn’t work. I didn’t stop loving him. I didn’t stop thinking about him every second of every day.” I felt tears starting to brim in my eyes, and I blinked furiously.
“Don’t do that,” Vilma snapped. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”
“Sorry,” I sniffed, although I wasn’t sure why I was apologizing.
“And how do you feel about Jessie being a vampire?” she asked. I think my tears had unnerved her because her gaze became a little less intense. I felt slightly less frozen to the floor.
“He can’t change who he is,” I said with a shrug. “I love him, and I have to accept that we are different.”
“Yes,” Vilma said, “he can’t change who he is.” She looked me over with a critical eye.
“Is there anything else you want to quiz me about, or can I get going?” I asked her, starting to feel more myself. “Jessie’s waiting for me.”
Grabbing me by the arm and jerking me closer, Vilma snarled, “You’ll leave when I tell you to leave.” Her eyes were blazing again, but I didn’t care as much. I was angry, and she was being a jerk. “You need to leave Jessie alone,” she said, putting as much intensity as she could into her words. “You’re going to go back home and forget that he even exists.” Her blue eyes were glowing purple with the intensity of her stare. “In fact, you are going to forget that vampires exist. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Then tell me,” she commanded. “Tell me what you’re going to do?”
I started to feel a small ache in the back of my head. “You want me to forget about Jessie and leave him alone.”
“And that’s what you’re going to do?” she asked, arching one eyebrow.
I could feel her compelling me to say yes, but that wasn’t how I felt. I could sooner fly than stop loving Jessie. It took a while for the word to form on my lips, but eventually I was able to say, “No.”
“What?” Vilma was surprised and more than a little outraged.
“No,” I repeated. It came easier the second time. “I can’t,” I insisted. “I know it would be easier. I know I would be safer and probably live a lot longer, but I don’t know...” I shook my head. “Every thread of my being tells me that being with Jessie is the right thing to do. Not like lust or some high school crush, but something deep in my soul. We are connected, and you glaring at me with your crazy vampire eyes isn’t going to change the way I feel.”
Vilma’s mouth fell open. She gaped at me for several seconds before tossing her head a little and saying, “Fine.” With that, she turned and stalked out of the room.
I felt dizzy, like all the blood had rushed from my head. Clutching for the sink to support me, I seriously considered either throwing up or passing out.
There was the sound of a toilet flushing, and a woman exited one of the stalls. She was dressed in pink and green silk like a giant piece of candy. “Are you all right, honey?” she asked.
I looked up at her, my head clearing a bit. She was beautiful, but a little older than I expected. “What the hell was that about?” I asked.
“Vampires.” The woman chuckled, sounding a bit weary. “You know how most guys think that just because they have a penis, they should be in charge? Well, a lot of vampires feel that way, but with fangs.”
It took a few more minutes of me supporting myself with the sink to feel steady enough to head back into the ballroom. Vilma had definitely tried to bend me to her wishes, but vampire or no vampire, it would take more than an undead mean girl to make me give up Jessie.
Finally feeling more myself, I headed back out into the ballroom. I had expected to see Jessie loitering somewhere near the door, but he was nowhere to be found.
More vampires must have decided to dance because the room felt much more crowded. The music had shifted from the eighties pop to nineties grunge, and it was turned up loud. A tall man in a long cape and wearing a papier-mâché head kept bumping into me. I took a few steps back to create some distance between us, but he filled the gap and started crowding me again. I didn’t know what his deal was, but he was being pretty rude and stank of onions.
Oh crap! He wasn’t just drunk or rude. He was the guy from the airport, and he was trying to herd me away from the crowd. I drew breath to scream, but ended up saying, “Ouch!” as something sharp jabbed me in the shoulder.
The world began to spin more quickly, and the dark corners of the room closed in until I was just looking through a pinhole in a wall of black. And then nothing.
Chapter 26
I opened my eyes, but my world was still pitch black. My head was swimming, and my mouth tasted like a car battery. I wondered if I had thrown up and if any of it got on my dress. I tried to sit up, immediately hit my head, and was knocked back down.
Where the hell was I?
My heart started racing, and I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was on my back in a small, black space with absolutely no room to sit up. I was in a coffin.
I curled on my side and tried to keep from hyperventilating, focusing on slowing my breath. Madame Orzy had been right; the birdcage did collapse when necessary. Eventually, I realized two things: I wasn’t in a coffin because there was room to the right and the left of me, and whatever I was in was moving—I could feel the floor beneath me shifting up and down like a car on a bumpy road. I was in a car, I told myself. I was locked in the trunk of a car.
I began feeling around me to see if I could find a tool or some kind of weapon. There was a pile of something damp, and I had to assume from the smell that I had been sick. I tried to think of what I was supposed to do if ever locked in the trunk of a car. It didn’t help that my head was still spinning.
Okay, my brain pieced it together. I was supposed to kick out the taillight and try to signal anyone driving behind the car. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be more gangsters.
There wasn’t much in the trunk. I felt around and only found some wire coat hangers and a few papers. I tried kicking the taillight near my feet but couldn't really tell what I was doing. Eventually, I twisted myself over to the side, negotiating around my skirt, and wrenched off one of my pilgrim shoes. Using it to protect my hand, I punched and punched at what I thought was the taillight closest to my face. I could hear plastic snapping and thought maybe
I was seeing a little light crack through the darkness.
The car went over a large lump, and I was slammed against the roof of the trunk. I was pretty sure we’d just gone over a speed bump. By the sudden and numerous turns we were taking, all to the left, I wondered if we were in a parking garage. The sounds had changed, too. The street noise was gone, and everything had more of an echo.
I could tell by the angle of the car we were going up. And up and up. I had to guess we were heading to the top of the garage. I gave up on my plans for the taillight and fumbled for the hangers, straightening the curved hook and bending the triangle bodies so I could clench them in my fists.
We came to a stop, and I could hear some men talking in what I assumed was Hungarian. I heard the car doors opening and closing as they got out. I had a hanger gripped tightly in each hand, concealing them both under my skirt.
There was more talking, and then the trunk opened. I saw the big man that tried to grab me at the airport. He scowled at me and then said something over his shoulder to another man standing a few steps back from the trunk. I couldn’t see the other man; I only heard his voice.
The big man leaned in to grab me, and I stabbed him in the cheek with the end of the coat hanger. To be honest, I was aiming for his eye, but I had never stabbed anyone with anything before, and I was nervous. I know that sounds brutal, but if he didn’t want to get stabbed in the eye, he shouldn’t have drugged me and stuffed me in the trunk of his car.
The man let out a shriek, and the hanger got knocked out of my hand as he jerked away from me. He was howling and, I’m quite sure, swearing in Hungarian. The other man, much younger, came in to cuff me, but I stabbed him in the hand with the other hanger. Screw both of them if they thought I was just going to lie there and not defend myself. I jumped out of the trunk and started running. I had no idea where I was going, but I sure as hell was going to try to figure something out.
