by J. K Harper
“That’s why I wore black,” Charlotte reassured the woman. “Was that a Long Island Iced Tea?”
“How did you know?” The woman smiled broadly, exposing lipstick-stained teeth.
“Lucky guess.”
Charlotte motioned towards the bartender to replace the woman’s drink and made her way to the bathroom to soak up some of the liquid from her outfit. She stood near one of the hand dryers and maneuvered her body so the hot air would hit the right spots. When the dryer finished its first cycle, she heard a woman’s voice coming from one of the stalls.
“Sparkle for me, baby. Sparkle,” the drunken voice called out followed by sounds of slurping.
Oh for fuck’s sake. Charlotte bent down to examine the feet under the stalls. Nothing was unusual until she looked beneath the last one on the right and saw a woman crouched on her knees in ripped stockings and cheap shoes. Charlotte groaned when her eyes caught sight of the motorcycle boots standing in front of the kneeling woman. She recognized the skull-shaped harnesses right away.
“Get a room, Julian!” she yelled as she banged on the door. She could hear giggling and the sound of a closing zipper before the stall door opened.
“Happy Halloween, Sissy Poo,” he said while trying to keep the kneeling woman from pawing at his crotch. “Easy, Tina.”
“Who’s Tina?” The woman looked up in confusion; her smeared mascara gave her the appearance of a raccoon.
Julian snapped his fingers to jog his memory. “Brandi! That’s right, Brandi.” He turned to Charlotte and said, “Sissy Poo, Brandi just loooooves vampires.”
“Sparkle,” Brandi said in a long, breathy tone.
“Lovely,” Charlotte said with a look of disgust.
Brandi pointed towards Charlotte’s chest and smiled. “I love your pin.”
"Of course you do," Charlotte said, removing the trinket as quickly as possible and handing it to her. “It’s yours.”
Brandi tried several times to attach the bat to her revealing blouse but just kept poking herself instead. She gave up, shoving the pin in her pocket before searching the dirty floor for her flimsy fangs. She popped them in without hesitation and yelled, “Blah!” She turned her face away for one moment and the next blah sound was Brandi puking in the toilet.
“Oh fuck,” Julian complained.
“Don’t let those fangs go down the toilet. The last thing we need is a flooded bathroom.” She pulled him aside and whispered, “Maybe you shouldn’t pick your Brandi from the bottom shelf.”
He whispered back, "Bottom shelf Brandi was giving some top shelf head. The women these days sure know how to devour a cock."
"I'm going to stop you there, or I may be sick just like your friend. Take care of her."
“Always. I’m not a complete dick.”
“You are always a complete dick? Did I hear that correctly?”
“Haha. Goodbye, Sissy Poo. Enjoy your evening.”
“You too. Don’t forget to sparkle," she whispered before waving and twirling out the door.
Charlotte squeezed through the asses and elbows lining the hallway and made her way up the stairs to the second floor, darting through the crowds until she reached her favorite hiding spot. The odd placement of a floor-to-ceiling support beam always left room for one person directly behind it with a perfect view of the main dance floor. She would often claim her perch on busy nights and stare at the crowds in amazement. What a difference a few hundred years make. No more angry mobs giving chase with flaming torches and pitchforks. No lurking in shadows or hunting under cover of darkness. Most importantly, no killing.
Charlotte had never killed. Frederick started her on his blood before introducing animal sources and eventually the blood of willing servants. It wasn't that he didn't believe in killing as Frederick had done so frequently and for quite some time. He would only say it was "no longer necessary" for the Van Kampen family to ensure survival that way. There were plenty of covens that did still kill, although their efforts targeted the lowlifes of society and those who, as they say in Texas, “deserved killing.” It was the only way to live peacefully among the humans. Some families were still bringing on new members, but Frederick thought the clan was big enough.
Her father was vague about his origins, only stating that he hailed from "Mother Russia" and changed his name along the way. He explored the world, moving along to avoid each arising famine or epidemic. Whenever Frederick reminisced about his travels, he reminded the listener that no vampire, including himself, had ever caused any of these plagues or epidemics.
He met Julian’s mother during the Great Plague of Marseille in 1720. The young, pregnant woman was fading as she reached out to him for comfort from atop a pile of bodies left on a filthy sidewalk. Frederick initially thought about draining her to end the misery, but couldn't bear the thought of hurting the child growing inside her. He instead carried her to his flat and offered drops of his blood into her mouth. She grew stronger with subsequent feedings and survived Julian’s delivery one month later. The light servings didn't infect her, but much to Frederick’s surprise, Julian was born a vampire. He knew the moment he held him, surmising that his young immune system was no match for even the tiniest drops of venom that passed through the umbilical cord. No one ever discussed the fate of Julian’s mother. When asked, Julian would deflect by launching into a tirade and informing Charlotte he was more vampire than she could ever be, considering he had been one longer. She would usually respond with, “We’re both officially dead. What does it matter?”
Frederick crossed paths with Charlotte in the Netherlands just before the Groningen malaria outbreak of 1826. Her mother, Helena, was known for her beauty, kindness, and precocious two-year-old daughter. After losing her husband to a farming accident, Helena supported her child with beautiful embroidery work, selling her wares to the city's elite. That's when Frederick first saw her, ordering handkerchiefs by the dozens. When his latest wife, the much older and wealthier Elsa Van Kampen, became concerned about the young beauty and the piles of unnecessary hankies filling her shelves, the outbreak had reached its peak.
Elsa was not long for this world and, sadly, neither was Helena. Frederick could not get to her body before it was lost forever in a mass grave. He was determined to save Charlotte from a similar fate. When she eventually fell ill, he fed her a warm broth mixed with his blood and was fully prepared to drain her if necessary. Frederick chose instead to cradle her all night and wait to see how the blood affected her. Would she remain human or become infected? He hoped her small body would absorb his blood the way Julian's had. His assumption was correct. It took much longer for her to recover any strength with such small doses, but he had all the time in the world to nurse her back and, in the process, fully cemented his place as her father figure. He soon took on the name of Frederick Van Kampen and sailed across to America with his newly formed family and the Van Kampen fortune.
Charlotte leaned against the railing and took it all in. This is ours. It was hard to believe sometimes. Donors were plentiful and willing. She just needed to weed out those who were here to get high on coke or those who experienced a vampire-induced boner from seeing fake blood or fangs. The throngs of obsessive, modern movie fans loved vampires and werewolves but did not fully comprehend the beings were very much real and this was no game. Charlotte had a love/hate relationship with these uberfans. As irritating as she found them on a personal level, she needed their obsession to keep her business thriving. "At least I'm not a zombie," Charlotte would mutter to herself haughtily while designing various trinkets for her website. She cringed at the thought of zombie makeup and breakaway limbs replacing her sexy corsets and silky lingerie.
She scanned the crowd, searching for potential candidates to replace Ivy. Her eyes skipped right past all the big hair from Long Island and Jersey. It wasn’t a lack of appreciation for their style, though, as Charlotte believed all women had their own beauty. Those women usually wore too much of the wrong kind of perfume,
which affected the flavor of their skin and coated the fangs for hours. Their personalities were generally too big as well. There were a few model types, but they often didn’t taste very good either with their fat-free diets and sugar substitutes. Her mouth puckered with disgust at the very thought. The adorable Japanese tourists wearing shirts with a fanged Hello Kitty were tempting, but they would probably get homesick eventually.
Then her eyes backtracked to a flash of soft pink dancing in the crowd. Ivy was down below and saw her at the same time. As she started making her way towards the dancing girl, Charlotte sent her a mental message, causing Ivy to look up and meet her gaze. Charlotte pointed out the girl and motioned for her to bring her up to the second floor. She always appreciated a fellow curvy gal. Curves are what first drew her to Ivy as well. The soft hips represented health and vitality and the blood tasted much sweeter and felt more nourishing. This girl seemed to glow from within. Charlotte had a good feeling about her. She waited for them at the top of the stairs and had them follow her into the security office.
“This is Molly,” Ivy announced. “She’s from Wichita.”
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Charlotte. You’re definitely not in Kansas anymore.”
Molly shook Charlotte’s hand enthusiastically. “That’s fine with me. New York City living has always been my dream.”
“She’s coming in for an interview tomorrow,” Ivy added.
“Wonderful news. Where are you currently staying?”
“The Martha Washington Hotel.”
Ivy and Charlotte groaned in unison. “Is that place still around?” Charlotte was unable to hide her disgust. The Martha Washington was a women’s only hotel that housed a variety of characters including foreign exchange students, prostitutes, strippers and the mentally insane. “I think we need to find alternate arrangements for you.”
Ivy’s eyes widened as she said, “If they kill all the cockroaches, that entire building will collapse. The bugs are holding the walls up.”
Molly’s face contorted in horror.
“Don’t worry,” Charlotte laughed. “We have plenty of room if necessary.” She reached out and felt the fabric of Molly’s dress. “Why did you select this outfit? It’s a lovely dress, by the way.”
“I just like pink, and I figured black would be represented by everyone else. I wanted to get noticed."
Charlotte nodded her approval. “Brilliant idea and it worked! We may need to add more pink to the catalog items. See, you’re already good for business.”
Charlotte and Ivy gave her the address for the interview and encouraged her to enjoy the rest of the evening. They sat down in front of the security monitors and watched Molly dancing her way across the floor.
“I couldn’t help but notice that we look like triplets.”
“You’re right!” Charlotte said as she stared at Molly on the screen. “Dark hair, blue eyes, and curves must be my comfort zone.”
"We’ll just add that to future job requirements,” Ivy teased. “Did you see anyone else you wanted to interview?
“Just her.”
“Really?”
“It’s just a feeling. The same thing I had with you. Plus, I want someone who’s not just a donor. Anyone can do that. I think Molly would make a great assistant. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, she's lovely.”
“The hard part will be figuring out if she thinks vampires are real … without scaring her off.”
“She can interview you,” Ivy said, sending them both into giggles over the Ann Rice reference.
Charlotte had the security officer zoom in on her. “Dancing like she just doesn’t give a fuck. It’s refreshing.” They watched her in silence for a few moments before Charlotte turned to Ivy and asked, “What made you want to become a donor? I don’t think I’ve ever asked you that.”
Ivy thought for a moment before speaking. “I was intrigued about the shared energy. There is something about giving of your most precious resource and giving someone life—er, the undead version of life, which makes you feel incredibly close to the person. It always felt rather spiritual to me. I know that sounds strange, but there's no other way to explain it.”
“That was beautiful. Thank you. I’m not just saying that because I still need your blood for a few months.”
Ivy laughed and said, “Just remember, it’s only an interview. We can test the waters. If she doesn’t seem into it, then we cut her loose and maybe you can follow Aunt Agnes and have fun with these young bucks.” She pointed to one of the security screens that showed Agnes making out with one stud while reaching behind and grabbing the crotch of another.”
“She’s insatiable,” Charlotte said as they zoomed in on the screen.
“Go Agnes!” Ivy said, pumping her fist in the air.
Charlotte watched with envy. Although she chose females for donors, in the bedroom it was male all the way not that she'd seen any action in months. The Vamp Within had skyrocketed in popularity and Charlotte was busy preparing merchandise, designing lingerie, outerwear, shoes, and all the silly trinkets. She just signed a lucrative deal to license some of her vampire costumes with a big Halloween manufacturer for the following year as well. She tried to air on the side of sexiness, but many people wanted campy designs. It wasn’t always like this. In the olden days, vampires never had to work as they slowly took over empires and fortunes by killing or outliving their way through entire families. All that outliving had caused her great loneliness.
“I think I’m heading home for the night,” she said with a sigh.
“Don’t sigh like that,” Ivy said, lightly nudging her side. “It’s a sausage fest out there. Take someone for a romp.”
“Nothing here interests me.”
“I know what will perk you up,” Ivy said, holding out her wrist. “How about a last-minute snack?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I’ve already taken a lot from you today. My usual morning feeding will be soon enough. I think I have a few of the popsicles you made too. You should go home to your hubby and practice making babies.”
They shared a hug and Charlotte took the elevator down to the basement so she could kick off her heels and walk barefoot back to her place. She would have loved to stay all evening, but she had a weakness—vanity. Vampires age depending on how much they feed. Through trial and error, she had come to enjoy her current appearance and the human age she presented to the public. The face of a 40-year-old matched both the image she wanted for the business world as well as her maturity level.
She needed to feed every six to eight hours for maintenance. It wasn’t that she shriveled up and crumbled to dust, but she would start to notice a dull look in her eyes and an overall feeling of malaise would take over. She never let it go too far, however, so she wasn't sure what the upper limits of food deprivation would do to her. Tonight she just felt like taking a bubble bath, watching some mindless programs on Bravo, and enjoying one of those popsicles courtesy of the ever-thoughtful Ivy. Unfortunately, freezing the blood decreased the nutrient potency otherwise she would have stockpiled freezers full of popsicles just to get her through Ivy’s baby-making hiatus.
Charlotte made her way back to the loft and into the marble bathroom with the gorgeous claw foot tub. She decided to light some candles instead of turning on the extravagant chandelier. As the water filled the tub, Charlotte removed one of Ivy's popsicles from the freezer. Her mouth started salivating as she popped off the Tupperware mold. I bet the founders of Tupperware never thought their product would be used for this. She chuckled as she moistened the popsicle with her tongue and sauntered back to the bathroom, enjoying her treat along the way.
Charlotte sat on the edge as she ran her hand through the warm water, thinking of Aunt Agnes dancing with all those young men. She always knew how to have the time of her life. Maybe I should rethink using male donors. They provide more interesting places to suck on for blood. She finished the popsicle while getting undressed and slowly slid into the water.
She adjusted her hips, causing little underwater currents to caress her skin. I need to harness my inner Aunt Agnes. Why do I have to be so picky? She wiggled her hips a little faster, sending the gentle currents between her legs. I'm getting off in my bath. Has it come to this? Just a nice, romantic Halloween with … myself. Nice going, jackass. With that, she dunked her head under water, vowing to use Halloween as a sort of New Year's rejuvenation. It was time to hunt for male energy.
Chapter 3
Molly arrived the next morning with coffee and bagels. “This isn’t a bribe,” she said. “I just thought you guys might be hungry.”
“Very thoughtful of you,” Ivy said as she reached for a bagel. “We like thoughtful.”
“Did you have fun last night? Charlotte asked, stirring sugar into her coffee. “Did you sneak anyone into the women’s only hotel?”
Molly shook her head and laughed. “I did meet your brother, though.”
“Oh really?” Charlotte sat up in concern. She reached across the table and pretended to admire Molly’s nail polish while secretly examining her wrists for any traces of puncture wounds. “I hope he wasn’t inappropriate. He can be a bit of a—”
“Man whore!” Ivy interrupted.
“He just asked questions about Wichita and offered to be my tour guide around NYC. He’s very popular with the ladies.”
“That he is,” Charlotte said as she and Ivy rolled their eyes.
“One lady kept following him and asking him to sparkle.”
Ivy almost spit out her coffee, but maintained her composure and decided to use the example to test Molly's intentions. “That’s a Twilight reference. Are you a Twilight fan?”
“I enjoyed the books, but I tend to love anything vampire related. Even the Count from Sesame Street is a favorite.”
