by Marta Acosta
“Why do you say ‘supposedly’?”
“Well, they are strong, but individuals within the Family have different characteristics. Some are more tolerant of the sun and a few abstain from human blood. So when the guys in our branch say they need a secure source of the fresh stuff, we women have to take their word for it. But maybe the men only say that they need Companions, when they really want them.”
“Hattie, what’s tasting blood feel like to you?”
She hesitated. “Animal blood is really pleasurable, like good wine, I guess. But human blood is more like the best drug in the world, and it can be, uhm, arousing with the right person.”
“So it’s not sexual?”
She shrugged. “It makes my body feel so good all over that I don’t even have the words to describe what it’s like.” She looked away, and I wondered if she was thinking of drinking Jack’s blood. The image of them together upset me, but I didn’t know why. What Jack did with his Titania wasn’t my business.
By the time we finished shopping, I had several new tops, pants, skirts, dresses, and shoes, from flats to heels to graceful sandals. Hattie steered me to the accessories section of a store. “Mrs. Radcliffe disapproves of showy Trendy Status Accessories, but you should have a few nice things.”
“Won’t people wonder why a scholarship girl has a TSA?” I asked. “Not to mention the new clothes.”
“We’ll say a donor gifted the clothes to you. The trick is to find TSAs that don’t have obvious labels all over them.” Together we picked out a tote, handbags, and evening bags that didn’t have noticeable logos. The shocking totals gave me my first real concept of how my life would be different from now on.
On the way back, Hattie stopped in Greenwood and parked in front of a jeweler’s. “I need to get something fixed.”
While she showed the jeweler the broken clasp on a necklace, I looked at a display of men’s watches, wishing I could afford to give Lucky something.
“Jane, come try these on,” Hattie said as the jeweler brought out a blue velvet tray with rows of sparkling rings. Hattie pointed to an emerald ring. “This is your color.”
I tried it on and it rolled sideways. “It’s too big.”
“You have delicate hands. This might fit better.” The jeweler slid a sapphire and diamond ring onto my finger. “How does that feel?”
I held up my hand and admired the way the gems refracted the light. “Perfect. Thank you.” I handed it back to him.
Hattie was playing with an ornate topaz and diamond bracelet. “This is the sort of big, shiny thing Mary Violet would adore.” She waved her hands and mimicked Mary Violet’s dramatic voice. “So tragic that the rest of the world isn’t as glamorous as moi!” Hattie moved along the counter to a display of penknives. “Maybe Lucky will get you one. Wouldn’t you like one?”
I checked to make sure we were out of the jeweler’s range of hearing. “He offered, but then I’d be like all the Hellsdale girls who constantly threaten to ‘cut a bitch.’”
“Oh, we say that, too, but we mean cut them off socially.”
When we got back to campus, Hattie helped carry my shopping bags to the cottage. “You seem very okay about all this, Jane. I’d be tripping if someone told me there were werewolves and they’d chosen me to be a werewolf’s BFF and feed him dog chow during the full moon.”
“There aren’t werewolves, are there?”
“I heard a story once, but it was completely ridiculous. It sounded exactly like something Mary Violet would write.”
“She’s obsessed with alternative realities, you know. She’d love to find out about the Family.”
“Oh, she’d think we aren’t glamorous enough because we don’t wear capes and shapeshift into bats and say ‘I vant to suck your blood.’”
My mouth twitched up as I remembered Jack’s pronunciation of Latin. “Can I ask you something, Hattie?”
“Sure.”
“What’s Jack’s problem about me and Lucky? It’s my body and my life, and I can do what I want.” I didn’t want to tell her about my encounters with Jack and the crazy things he said to me, or the bewildering feelings he stirred within me. “One minute he’s nice to me and the next minute, he’s hypercritical. I don’t think he likes me.”
She unpacked clothes from a shopping bag and put them on a chair before speaking. “Jack likes you. He thinks you were brought here too soon after Bebe left, but Lucky insisted on having a Companion now. Jack and I both think Lucky needs more self-discipline and maturity before he makes that kind of commitment.”
“The way that Jack has self-discipline?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Okay, you’ve got a point, but Jack’s different. He’s artistic and he is disciplined about his music. The important thing is that Lucky likes you.” She checked her watch. “I’ve got to hit the books and you’ve got to meet with the counselor.”
“Thanks, Hattie, for everything. For being so nice from the start.”
“I know what it’s like being different, Jane. Besides, as a Companion, you’ll get all the Family as friends for life, and that includes me, too.”
Maybe it was because of the way that Wilde and I had parted, but I put out my hand. “Friends for life, promise?”
Hattie hugged me. “Friends for life, promise.”
I felt so happy that I’d never lose her, and when we stepped apart I said, “And I guess I get Jack for life, too.” I rolled my eyes and laughed, although I was wondering how I would feel seeing Jack through the years at parties, birthdays … at his wedding.
And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream’d
On the cold hill’s side.
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death pale were they all;
They cried—“La belle dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!”
John Keats, “La Belle Dame sans Merci” (1820)
Chapter 27
I spent too long trying on my new clothes, wanting to dress right for my meeting with the Companion counselor. I decided on a plain navy skirt and a white blouse. When I arrived at the house, Mrs. Radcliffe said, “You’re quite the young lady now! The counselor is in my husband’s study.”
She guided me to a wood-paneled room with a big dark desk and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three walls. Lucky was slouched in an armchair, his legs sprawled out, and an older woman sat at the desk.
She had a chic, short haircut and a small, angular face. Rimless glasses were propped on her button nose. She wore a soft yellow sweater, a floral print skirt, and a dramatic necklace of turquoise and amber stones.
“Nina, this is Jane Williams. Jane, this is Nina York,” Mrs. Radcliffe said. “I’ll be in the family room if you need me for anything.” She left, closing the door behind her.
“Good morning, Jane! Please have a seat.” Ms. York held her hand toward the sofa and I sat next to Lucky.
“Hey, Jane.” He had an annoyed and wary look, like he’d just been handed a pop quiz.
“Hello, ma’am,” I said to the counselor. “Hi, Lucky.”
“Congratulations, Jane!” Ms. York said. “I know how exciting this is for you. My parents died when I was young, they were addicts, and I was on the streets before the Family rescued me.” She didn’t say that she had worked the streets, but that was the implication.
I peeked at Lucky, thinking about how I’d pleased him. “I’m glad they rescued me, too.”
“Excellent! Now let’s go over safety precautions. I cannot stress enough the importance of being careful in your interactions. Jane, never let a cut or open wound make contact with Lucian’s blood. It’s natural for Normals to want to try blood tasting in our special relationships.” She saw my surprised expression. “Believe me, it’s common. Simple ingestion will have no ill effects. However, if you have a cut in your mouth, the blood play can have … dire results. It’s best nev
er to take that chance.”
“What happens if Lucky’s hurt, or in an accident? Shouldn’t I help him?”
“Lucian, would you mind showing Jane?”
“Sure.” Lucky pulled out his penknife and, before I could stop him, he scored the back of his hand with the blade. The cut filled with blood and then, as we watched, the wound began to close up as the skin slowly mended itself. Lucky licked off the blood to reveal unmarked skin.
“Thank you, Lucian,” Ms. York said. “Jane, members of the Family heal easily from minor injuries, so that’s not a concern. If Lucian’s badly injured, you must contact us immediately so one of our medical teams can get to him before anyone else. Never, ever rely on any outside medical assistance. It endangers both the Family and the unaware medics.”
“Let’s move on.” She reached for a maroon leather satchel and placed it on the desk. She unpacked surgical gloves, antiseptic spray, rubbing alcohol, bandages, a scalpel, a hypodermic needle, disinfectant wipes, a length of rubber tubing, and small glass cylinders. “Here are some popular tools for safe and healthy bloodletting. Come take a look.”
Lucky quickly went to the desk, a blush of excitement on his cheeks.
I went to the desk and picked up a cylinder with a needle at one end.
Ms. York said, “That’s a venipuncture vacuum system, a highly efficient way of taking a sample. Of course, most partners prefer a more intimate transfer, which is acceptable since the condition isn’t contagious through saliva.”
“I like it warm and fresh,” Lucky said.
“Then you need to come to an agreement about scarring. Some partners relish seeing evidence of their relationship, and others want to minimize scarring. Have you talked about it?”
When I said “I don’t want scars,” Lucky’s eyes narrowed in irritation.
Ms. York noticed his reaction. “That’s a wise decision. Over the course of many years, scar tissue builds up, Lucky, and will obstruct blood draws. I’m sure you don’t want that.”
She demonstrated the different ways to take blood. “Jane, while we don’t condone underage alcohol consumption, we make an exception for use as pain management during more intimate withdrawals. A glass of wine or a cocktail can help you relax and, well, enjoy the submissive experience. There are also topical anesthetics. Obviously, they reduce your partner’s pleasure.”
“It hasn’t been bad, Ms. York.”
Lucky frowned worriedly. “I don’t want it to hurt Jane.” At that moment I thought he was the most wonderful boy in the world.
“That’s very thoughtful, Lucky, and Jane may come to relish the intensity of a withdrawal without any dulling substances. It is how one chooses to interpret the sensations,” she said suggestively. “We can discuss that another time.”
After quizzing us on what we had learned, she smiled at Lucky, who was rolling a hypodermic in his long fingers. “Now I’ve got a brand-new instructional video to illustrate recommended bloodletting techniques!”
I felt queasy watching the couple on-screen siphon red-purple blood with a needle and use a scalpel to cut skin. Lucky had a glazed look that I recognized. He could barely pay attention to the rest of the session, which dealt with the initiation ceremony.
“How nice that Harriet Tyler will help you with the ceremony, Jane! She’s one of our shining lights.” Then Ms. York gave each of us a bag with bloodletting supplies. “This is your starter kit. Once you get an idea of your needs and preferences, I’ll set up regular deliveries.”
“Great, thanks!” Lucky said. “Can I keep the video, too?”
“Of course. You may want to review the techniques together. Will your partnership—or does it already—include sexual activity? I can advise you about special precautions.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” Lucky said quickly.
“In the old days, you know, it was a customary part of the relationship, and it’s still not uncommon. I don’t mean to shock you, Jane, but your relationship with Lucky will be closer and more permanent than that with any lover. You may come to see that offering him sex when he feeds adds a thrilling dimension in your experiences.”
My face was hot with embarrassment, and Ms. York patted my hand. “All of our discussions and dealings are completely confidential, dear. Lucian’s parents will not be told, whatever your decision.”
Lucky stood and asked, “When can we start, Ms. York?”
“The Council’s given their approval. You can start now, although your parents hope that you’ll wait until after the initiation.”
“What council?” I asked.
“The Council acts as our governmental body, since the Family can’t go to the standard authorities for many matters,” Ms. York said. “Let me put these things away and we can talk more at dinner.”
“Thanks for the info.” Lucky took my hand. “Come on, Jane.”
I thought he was going to lead me to the family room, but he tugged me toward the front door, his large hand enveloping my small one. Jack, wearing clean jeans and a striped button-down shirt, was walking into the hall from upstairs.
“Jack, tell Mom we can’t make dinner.”
“Tell her yourself,” Jack said.
“I have Family things to do.”
“What? You’re going to suck the elfkin dry of her vital fluids? Big man.”
“Shut up, jackass. You don’t know anything about my needs! You’re not one of us!”
“What? Not a useless douche?” Jack flipped his brother off, and then he glared at me. “So you’re going to drink the Kool-Aid, Jane? Why am I even asking?”
“You have no right to tell me what to do,” I said, but something inside me felt … awful, like I’d done something terrible and stupid. Why did Jack always make me feel so much?
“Why do you give a damn what she does?” Lucky shoved his brother’s chest.
Jack raised a fist, ready to swing, when Mr. Radcliffe came to the hallway. “Jacob!”
Lucky grinned at his father. “Hi, Dad. Jane and I are having dinner at her place. See you later.”
I went with Lucky as far as the foyer before twisting my hand out of his and stopping. “No.”
“No what?”
“No, you can’t drag me around like a dog on a leash. I already said I’d be at dinner and I want to talk to Ms. York. When I say I’ll do something, I do it.”
“Are you lecturing me?”
“I’m stating facts.”
For a moment, I thought he was angry. Then he nodded and his golden locks fell into his face. “Okay, you’re right. That was totally rude. Jane, keep me grounded, okay? Tell me when I’m a jerk.”
I felt huge relief. “Okay. You’re being a jerk.”
“I’m sorry. Now can we go and play with our new toys?”
“It’s not playing and they’re not toys. I do it because you need it and we can wait till later.”
“Okay, we’ll do it later. I’m going to talk to my dad.” Lucky headed toward the study, where his father and Ms. York were meeting.
I went to the family room and saw Mrs. Radcliffe tossing a salad and Jack getting plates from the cupboard. “May I help with anything?”
She gave me a warm smile that made me grateful that this incredible woman would be in my life forever. “Why don’t you help Jack set the table?”
He ignored me as I copied his placement of forks, knives, and glasses. But then, as we passed by each other, he leaned so close that his curls brushed my face as he whispered, “The Halfling rebels against her master.”
I stomped on his foot. “Oh, sorry.”
The others joined us, and Lucky was as friendly to his brother as if nothing had happened. Is this what family is? I wondered.
When Ms. York came into the room, she beamed at Jack. “Jacob Radcliffe, how wonderful to see you again!”
“Hi, Nina! So tell me, are you at all interested in a younger man?” He raised one eyebrow rakishly.
“Keep dreaming,” she said, laughing girlishl
y and reminding me of Wilde.
If Ms. York had been able to make a good life for herself after being out on the streets, then so could Wilde. When I had a minute alone with the counselor, I said, “I’d really like to talk more about the Family and what’s expected of me.”
She placed her hand on mine and squeezed, and I noticed that she wore a gold ring with a red gem on her right hand. “I’ll be coming for your initiation and staying a few days. I’ll set aside a few hours exclusively for you. How about then?”
“That would be great.”
Lucky waited through the long meal before asking, “Jane, may I walk you home?”
“I’d like that.”
He tried to keep a relaxed pace, but halfway down the trail he said, “Come on,” and began jogging. I stumbled in the darkness, and he dashed back and swung me up in his arms.
In a sudden panic, I shoved at Lucky’s chest and he let me down, saying, “What?”
There was something about being outside in the darkness and being grabbed up. My heart raced, but it was only Lucky and only the grove. “I don’t like it when you pick me up without asking! I don’t like the way you drag me around like a possession, not a person.”
“Chill, Jane. I was just trying to help,” he said, irritated. “Okay, I’m sorry.” He took out his phone and used it to light the way for me.
We got inside the cottage, and he waited while I turned on the lights and closed the curtains. “Jane, will you please let me have a taste?”
“All right.”
“Do you want to try the topical anesthetic?”
“No, I don’t need it, but try to be careful.”
He opened my bag of supplies and selected the lancet. It was a scalpel with a two-sided blade. He disinfected it with the same anticipation I’d seen in the faces of addicts setting up their works. “Lie facedown on the bed.”
