by Lily Luchesi
He wore an elaborately tied cravat, and a gray vest over a white tunic. Mari averted her eyes as her master put on short gray pants that he called breeches. With curled white hair, Rhett held onto his identity as an English nobleman accustomed to being served.
“How long has it been since my last meal?” Rhett asked.
“Nine days, Master.”
“Really? My gray skin, dry and cracking, and my white hair, dull and thinning, says longer.”
“How may I assist you?”
“A bite to eat is required. Someone male, young and tender, I think.”
“As you wish, Master.”
It was well planned that Rhett lived on commercial property among warehouses. He owned and operated a comedy club that opened at night and served affordable liquor. People came to have a few laughs and a lot of drinks. They heard the claims, but even those that met Rhett could hardly believe that he was a vampire. They saw a classically handsome and well mannered bachelor. They had no idea that the supernatural creature checking on his nightly patrons was ensuring that his meals continued to come to him merrily.
Mari didn’t have to go far to secure a meal for her master. The line outside of the comedy club was already forming. She slid her jacket back on and then opened a side door that snapped shut when a strong gust of wind blew by. Trying again, she threw her weight into opening that steel door with her shoulder. Mari stumbled out and heard the heavy door shut behind her.
She nodded at the bouncer, a hefty man known to her only as Ed. Like her, Ed was human and willingly served supernaturals. He nodded back. Mari stood behind him, searching the line for someone suitable for her master to devour. She spotted a guy standing close to a group of girlfriends. The pretty women with young faces had vibrant energy. They all wore black dresses and matte red lipstick. Mari suspected that they were a few years shy of the age requirement of twenty-one. Their nervous chatter gave them away. Little did they know, no one here cared. The women didn't acknowledge the man standing close behind them in line. Mari smiled, realizing that this single guy was pretending to be a chick magnet.
Mari whispered, “Him,” to Ed as the young group of women reached the front of the line. The girls became quiet while fake IDs were checked. Ed took an obligatory look at their identification cards while not so subtly checking them out. He seemed to savor the drawn out moment. Attractive women acknowledging him and wanting something from him gave Ed a fleeting and addictive sense of power. He grinned and allowed them in with a wave of his hand. As the women went by, the lone man made his move.
"Wait up," he said to them and quickly flashed his ID. He continued walking forward as if he had no reason to be stopped.
Ed stopped him. "Not tonight, bro."
Mari turned away and pulled the collar of her jacket up in an attempt to go unnoticed.
"My girl—"
"Is nowhere in sight. You gonna hafta try a lil' harder than that to get past me."
The two men looked each other up and down, assessing. Mari looked further down the line to appear disinterested, but she heard every word. Ed crossed his beefy, tatted arms. It still amazed her how often men could head outdoors without a coat while she shivered at home in two layers of clothing. The man trying to gain access to one of the more popular places to be on a Thursday night in the city stood there, frowning.
"Alright. I see how it is. I got my thirty dollars for a comedy show ticket. What's your price, bro?"
Ed creaked another smile. "Throw two Jacksons my way and we're good."
A payment disguised as a handshake took place, and Ed let the eager man through. Mari stretched her neck and shoulders with subtle movements as she watched the interaction. Handsome, young, alone, and desperate enough to pay the bouncer to enter, this gentleman was her guy.
"My turn," Mari whispered into Ed's ear from behind as she followed her target inside.
* * *
"Hi," Mari said, approaching the bar with an empty glass in hand.
His smile brightened when his eyes landed on her. He muttered, "I knew this place was worth getting into."
Mari leaned in. "What was that?"
"Uh, my bad. I'm Dex. And you?"
"Mari. Is this your first time here?"
"Yeah, I've been trying to get in for months now. Lucked out tonight," Dex said.
Mari smiled. "So I'm talking to a lucky and handsome man? Cool."
He rubbed his face, covering his cheeks, mustache, and beard for a moment. She guessed he tried to hide his blushing cheeks.
"Ready to laugh?" he asked after another silent moment passed between them.
"I'm out of luck, actually. Sold out show," Mari said with a pout and a shrug.
"Oh, damn. I don't have pre-ordered tickets either." Dex confirmed what she suspected.
They shook their heads at each other. She chewed on an ice cube while Dex finished his drink. The bar emptied out as large doors opened to let customers with tickets settle into their purchased seats. Through the open doors they saw round tables covered in burgundy tablecloths form a semi-circle around a raised stage. The walls, floors and stage were all black. The stage’s backdrop curtain showcased the comedy club’s logo that read: Die Laughing.
“Do you—” Dex loosened the collar of his shirt. “Do you want to have a drink with me?”
Marigold smiled, baring her teeth.
“I have a better idea. Come on!” She placed her empty glass onto the bar and reached for Dex’s hand. “I know where we can still see the show.” Her words ended in a whisper as she looked around, afraid she might have been overheard.
Dex let her take his hand and pull him along. They left the room a different way then they entered. Between the dark walls, dim lights, and faint echoes of laughter, she tried to get him to lose track of where they were. One empty hallway led to another. Then they stopped in front of an ornate red door. It was tall, wide, and glossy with some sort of textured pattern on it. Mari opened the door. No light emanated from the room. Instead, a cold draft blew their way.
Dex appeared hesitant despite the two drinks he consumed recently.
“Look, you’re hot and all, but I don’t know about this,” he said.
She pulled him closer to her and he got a whiff of her light, femine fragrance.
“I just want to have a good time, Dex. Don’t you want to have a good time with me?”
Dex nodded and allowed himself to be tugged into the room by his alluring companion. The door’s understated design was that of a snake pit with countless snakes slithering on top of each other. Before Dex could voice another word of doubt, the door slammed shut behind them. An ominous click suggested that they were locked in.
He switched from passively being pulled along to gripping Mari’s hand tightly. They stood huddled together.
“You okay, Mari?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Do you see a light switch, or lamp, or anything?” Dex started patting his pants pockets. “Let me find my cell phone. It should be here.”
Mari turned her head until her broad nose brushed his chin. Then her full lips found his neck. She sighed, longingly.
Misunderstanding Mari’s motives, Dex held her tighter. “It’s okay. My phone will light up and we’ll get out of here. I’ll call for help if we need it. I got you.”
No, he didn’t. She had him exactly where she wanted him. Mari gave his exposed neck a quick lick before slipping out of his embrace. She stood still, closed her eyes and relished his slightly salty, masculine taste on her tongue. If only she had fangs and claws sharp enough to pierce and slice flesh with ease. If only Dex’s blood could satiate Mari so that she could leave the world of peanut butter on toast, ramen noodles, and value menu fast food behind.
“Mari?” Dex called out, squinting in the dark.
She took one step back after another until she reached the far right corner of the room. With a cushioned stool waiting for her, she settled into her first row seat to tonight’s feeding. Thank
s to a spell she cast when she first became a servant, Mari had excellent night vision for a human. She watched Dex dig into his pants pockets, searching for the cell phone that she held in her left hand. There wasn’t going to be a call for help tonight—not one that anyone outside of this former dressing room would ever hear.
“Mari?” he whispered.
She shook her head, knowing that he’d never know she spared a moment to pity him.
Dex and Mari stilled at the slight disturbance in the air. The two humans innately recognized that they were no longer safe. Black, red, and silver fog swept in and formed a cloud in the center of the room. Mari blinked and he appeared.
Rhett materialized in the room, causing the air to chill. The dark cloud dissipated as Rhett’s physical form solidified. He was tall, with broad shoulders and lean muscles. With excellent posture and eighteenth century men’s clothes, Rhett looked out of time and place.
Other than his dramatic entrance, two things revealed his inhuman nature. Rhett’s eyes appeared to be completely black. Among the creatures of the night, vampires had night vision rivaling that of owls and ocelots. The second telltale feature was Rhett’s skin. It was not warm, soft, elastic, or covered in hair. The skin of vampires that did not feed regularly was that of a marble statue: smooth, cold, and hardened. To be touched by something nearly inanimate that steals your body heat…
“Mari!” Dex called out in a tone no longer reassuring or concerned. He was straight up scared.
She remained silent.
Rhett chuckled.
Unable to deny a third presence in the room, Dex shouted, “What the f—”
“You’ve been such a gentleman up until this point, my good man. Keep your composure,” Rhett replied.
Dex lost his cool and screamed.
* * *
Mari watched Dex’s final moment of life. She was allowed to leave when the feeding started. Any other mortal being would have fled from the sights and sounds of a human being bitten and drained of blood. Dex didn’t die willingly. Shocked and outmatched, he still fought his attacker with all the human strength he could muster. It wasn’t enough to save him. It never was.
Mari served Rhett faithfully for about eighteen months now. She hoped that she didn’t have to wait much longer for the ultimate reward. Her mission remained to get promoted in under two years. Even vampire servants can have career ambitions. It was a pity that there wasn’t anyone in Mari’s life to cheer her on. Her parents, very much alive and happily married, stopped talking to her four years ago. Her brother… She still couldn’t let herself think about him. With her boyfriend mad at her, she had no one in her corner now. No one, except her master.
Some subconscious part of her still sympathized with blood bags, a vamp term for those deemed only useful as a food source. It was the only explanation for the errant tears that escaped Marigold’s brown eyes each time she witnessed the death of a human by a supernatural being. Even though she never delivered a killing blow, Mari had no delusions about how deeply red-stained her hands had become.
The jostling men in front of her stilled. Dex’s grip on her master’s clothes loosened and then slipped away. His limp hand fell to the ground. Rhett stopped slurping and licking. He dropped his prey and Dex’s lifeless body hit the floor. It made a louder sound than when his hand fell.
Master and servant stared down at the corpse on the floor and shared a single thought.
Vampires promised to feed without killing humans.
Mari never moved from her cushioned seat against the far wall, but Rhett did. Abruptly, she was faced with the curiosity of a well-fed, eighteen century vampire. Rhett ignored her personal space and lifted her by her shoulders. Standing toe-to-toe, Rhett was so close to her that his foul breath moistened her face.
“Marigold, my dear. Always feeding me and watching me feed. I’ve had servants that fled the building when I needed to replenish myself and some that vomited at the sight of me dining. But not you,” Rhett said, allowing his now supple lips to graze Mari’s cheek. “You remain by my side, hoping that one day I’ll let you share a meal with me.”
Mari turned her face upward. Their lips separated by a mere inch. She made eye contact with her master. His too dark eyes lured her in as always. She found his look pleasing, his voice hypnotic, and his touch exhilarating.
“Master,” Mari said.
It was all she said, but that one word was loaded with longing, admiration, and desire.
Rhett’s feral features receded—fangs retracted and brows unfurrowed. Hardened and dulled skin the color of gray pebbles transformed into glowing white marble now that he refueled. Then that inhuman marble stone gave way to skin in a healthy shade of pink and peach. Rhett could now pass for human.
With a rapidly cooling body in the room with them, Rhett kissed Mari lightly on the lips. A small amount of blood transferred from his lips to hers, and Mari’s mauve pink lipstick turned dark red. She shivered. Her heart raced. Was this it? Would Rhett give her an early Christmas gift?
“Please,” she begged, unbothered by the transferred blood on her lips.
While still in his tight embrace, she tugged at the collar of her grey dress until she exposed her neck.
“Such a needy little thing you are,” Rhett said, releasing her.
He stepped away, seeking the standing mirror in another corner of the former dressing room. Content with his clothes being in place and not a drop of blood in sight, Rhett turned back to look at Mari. She stood there, hugging herself tightly. He frowned, disliking the rare moments when she appeared vulnerable. He trained her to be strong and capable. Dependent on him, yes, but very much capable of navigating the human and supernatural world with purpose.
“How was he?” Rhett asked casually, drying his wet lips with a handkerchief.
I wouldn’t know, was her first answer. It lived and died as an unspoken, surly thought. She wondered why he would ask about the corpse in the room when he did not let her participate in his feeding.
Rhett's expectant look made her think of a suitable answer and that's when she realized that he was asking about another man.
"I delivered the gift successfully." Marigold looked away, trying not to lie to her master. His silence informed her that he expected more. "He's good. I mean, he’s obviously miserable without you, but he still looks good."
Then she added, "He didn't open the package in front of me, so I don't know what his reaction was or will be."
The rest of the night proceeded as usual: up-and-coming comedians graced the stage, healthy people laughed and drank liberally, Rhett walked through the room, stopping to greet familiar patrons and welcome new ones. Supernatural beings were rare and only a few lived out in the open. People flocked to Die Laughing for the chance to meet a being once thought of a superstition, myth and nightmare-inducing folly. All while Mari stood three feet behind him on his right side. She observed, discreetly took notes, and occasionally left his side to run an errand for him.
The life of a vampire’s servant was not a glamorous one. Considered more than just a food source, they weren’t called blood bags or treated as a ready meal. They were treated like expendable employees. Servants had daily responsibilities and received a monthly paycheck.
Romantic relationships with the supernatural were complicated and brief. Invitations to monster balls were rare. Daylight tasks were tedious. The few people willing to talk to Marigold questioned her life choices, often asking why she would forsake humans. She had only to look at her empty life to be reminded that a vampire’s transformative bite would make everything she’s done disappear. It would give her the fresh start she craved.
Tired and hoping to be dismissed, Mari couldn’t help but replay Rhett’s reply to her fib over and over again.
"When he opens his gift, we'll know."
* * *
Four years ago, Mari’s life changed irrevocably.
At twenty years old, she fully embraced college life. She studied, read, a
nd submitted her school work on time. She enjoyed living in the dorms, having suitemates, casually dating, and going to parties most weekends.
Her older brother, Heath, finally came to visit during the second semester of her junior year. After telling everyone about her brilliant and cool older brother, Mari became increasingly frustrated when he wouldn’t meet her friends over lunch or go out with her to the local bars at night.
One afternoon, Marigold stopped playing the trivia game on her cell phone and placed her device face down on her desk to minimize distraction.
“Why are you here?” she asked Heath.
Ignoring the fact that she already made her narrow dorm room bed, he laid on top of the covers. His tan skin and freckles matched their mother’s. His short, curly hair—which was currently cut and faded—matched their father's. Marigold had neither curls or freckles to visibly mark her as part of the Jordan family. Her long legs and intellect were her only two reassurances that she was in fact a Jordan.
With hands folded behind his head and feet crossed, Heath said, “You begged me to come see you. Complained to Mom and Dad that I wasn’t being supportive. So here I am, checking on you. As requested.”
“Seriously, Heath?” His response begged for an eye roll or a pillow tossed his way. “Why are you here? Because you are not here for me. You’ve been moping around, disinterested in all the fun things I ask you to do. You barely eat or talk. You sit around, staring off into the distance. Do you miss her that badly?”
“I don’t miss anyone, least of all, her.” His cold response stung.
“Her? We’re talking about Tonya. The love of your life. The girl you can’t enjoy spending two days apart from, apparently. She could have come.”
Mari saw him wince but didn’t make the connection.
