Zara's Curse (Empire of Fangs)

by Domonkos, Andrew

  “Twig Vanderbilt the Second,” he said, as he rose. The two studied each other for a long moment.

  “Don’t mind him,” Zara said, apologetically. “He likes to joke around.”

  Vivian had already lost interest in her new guests. A small black Siamese cat that had been prowling at her ankles caught her attention. She scooped him up, and took one of the cat’s paws in her hand and pointed to the interior of the house with it. “Now that we are all properly introduced, please come in. This is Selma, by the way.”

  Zara smiled graciously and petted the cat’s head as she went past Vivian. Twig took the cat’s paw and gave it a little jiggle. “A fine specimen,” he said, his eyes still fixed on Vivian.

  Vivian ignored him. She told Zara she would go and tell Micah Zara had arrived, and then she glided elegantly across the room and through an archway into another room.

  The living room was nothing like Zara expected. She had thought it would be full of ancient furniture made of oak and cold ironwork, but instead it was very modern, while maintaining a certain vintage vibe. The room was huge, with flawless dark hardwood floors. The walls were not like the rough stone exterior of the mansion, but instead were plastered over, and painted in shades of muted violet. Groups of well dressed, professional-looking people holding wine glasses sat on rich leather couches. The walls featured abstract and art nouveau paintings of girls with absurdly long, flowing hair. A black flat screen was mounted over an unlit fireplace.

  Among the formally dressed professionals, there were also a few small groups of much more casual-looking young people, dressed more like Zara in t-shirts and jeans. These must be Micah’s friends, she thought. She scanned the room over and over but did not see him.

  Twig had found a glass of wine already, and was sipping it with his pinkie extended. Zara lightly elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Could you maybe be a little less confrontational mister ‘Vanderbilt’?”

  Twig looked puzzled, and then shrugged. “Lighten up Zar, it’s just my way of breaking the ice. And this place looks like a veritable iceberg.” He motioned his wine glass towards a group of men in thin-rimmed glasses and turtlenecks who were huddled together on one of the couches, all leaning in close and involved in some intense discussion.

  “What do you reckon they are talking about? My guess is Japanese film. Wanna get a wager going?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Can we just try to keep an open mind,” she said softly. “And where did you get that wine?”

  Twig pointed to a silver tray with at least twenty full wine glasses sitting on it by the front door. She wondered how she missed it. She nonchalantly eased over to the table, took a glass and returned to Twig.

  It felt like an eternity to Zara, standing there trying to look natural among the strangers. Twig said he had to use the bathroom, and despite Zara giving him a very worried look, he said he would be quick and left anyway.

  He disappeared through the archway Vivian had gone through, and Zara could already hear him introducing himself to some girl with a very pleasant voice. She hated his ability to mingle in any situation. He could be dropped from a plane in the middle of an African village and in a week he would be the most popular guy in the village. Maybe even made chief.

  She noticed she was twisting the tip of her sneaker into the hardwood floor and stopped herself. Just when she thought she couldn’t take the waiting anymore, Micah stepped through the archway and flashed a surprised smile at Zara. She gave him a wave and he started over to her. This time he was wearing black slacks, some fancy loafer shoes, and a white The Damned t-shirt, which was severely faded and looked older than he did. He had combed his hair back and it was no longer as wild as it had been the night they met.

  “Hey, you made it!” he said, and the two gave each other a light hug.

  “Yeah, thanks for inviting me. I absolutely love this house.” She looked around the room but the house had suddenly become less amazing in his presence.

  “Thank you. It’s been in our family for a very long time, my uhh…great grandfather actually designed it a long time ago.” He seemed mildly embarrassed. This annoyed her slightly. If anyone was to be embarrassed about their living conditions it should be her. Two Casa Zaras could easily fit in this room alone. But from her many visits to the Winters’ estate, she had come to learn that the rich were very quirky when it came to discussions about their lavish homes.

  “Well, it’s nice,” Zara said. “And your sister Vivian seems very cool.” She took a sip of her wine. She had never liked white wine, but for some reason, it tasted spectacular to her now.

  “She’s cool, but old fashioned. She kinda lives in her own world. She teaches ballroom dancing. She even plays the harp, if you can believe it.” Zara could detect a bit of sibling rivalry in his tone.

  “I can see that,” Zara said, feeling much more comfortable and wondering why she had been so worried about coming here. “Are we still on for the art museum?”

  “But of course. Day after tomorrow. 9pm.”

  “Kinda late for an art show,” Zara said, looking a bit puzzled.

  “Yeah, it’s sort of a promotional thing. Should be fun.”

  “Sounds cool,” Zara replied.

  “So where is your friend?” Micah asked. “Vivian said he was ‘amusing,’ whatever that means.”

  “Oh. Twig. Yeah…he can be a bit of an ass sometimes. We’re old friends.”

  “Ah,” Micah said, seemingly relieved. “Why do they call him that? I’m guessing he is like, really skinny or something?”

  “Oh, a bit, but no, it’s some nickname his dad had for him that kinda stuck. Something to do with him getting a haircut when he was a kid that looked like that old sixties model Twiggy’s hair. He seems to like the name though.”

  “Ah, I see. So you’re not like, ‘together’?”

  “Oh, no,” Zara replied. “Friends in the literal sense of the word.”

  She had thought about it many times of course. It was not that she didn’t think Twig was good looking or funny, he was both, but he always kept up too many emotional barriers.

  There had been an incident, once, where they seemed to share a fleeting moment, but that was long ago. In the past year he had become increasingly distant, and even more cynical than usual. The world seemed a big joke to him. She also suspected that he had a secret girlfriend. None of these things seemed to Zara to be ingredients for a fulfilling relationship.

  “Well then. Would you like to see the backyard? We spent all day setting it up. We even have my friend D.J.’ing out there, or trying to, anyway.” Micah hooked his arm around Zara’s, and before she could say yes he was leading her through a spacious kitchen filled with marble countertops and gleaming stainless steel appliances to the back door of the house.

  The backyard was massive, with monstrous Elm trees all along the tall stone wall that wrapped around the property. Rows of blue and green Chinese lanterns were strung up high in the air over the entire yard. Round plastic tables were covered with white tablecloths, and the same odd groups of dapper adults and scruffy young people were seated at them, drinking and laughing. You Spin Me Round was playing loudly over a pair of speakers. She looked over at the D.J, who was at one end of the yard, up on a platform between two massive speakers. He was hunched over a white Apple laptop, but she recognized him immediately. It was the cocky jock from the Church, his unmistakable sneer still plastered on his face.

  Zara and Micah stood on the small wooden deck that overlooked the yard. Micah noticed her staring at the DJ.

  “That’s my buddy Drake. Or D.J Dragon, as he likes to go by. He too is a bit of an ass, but he’s basically family. We go way back.” Micah took her hand, and she snapped out of her haze. He started to lead her across the yard.

  “So that was the friend that made you wanna jump off the Church patio?” She blurted out, a bit more aggressively than she intended.

  He began to answer but a passing girl touched him on the shoulder and asked
where the bathroom was.

  “Second floor, first door on the left as you go up,” he said, and the girl seemed to linger for a moment, staring at him, before she finally went inside.

  Zara bit her tongue. She became strangely jealous and freed her hand of his grip and pushed it in her pocket defiantly.

  “It’s just that he sorta disappeared with my friend Abby that night we met,” Zara said. “And now she is acting all bizzaro. Not that the Winters haven’t always been a bit strange.” She narrowed her eyes and looked back at D.J Dragon, who was mouthing “Watch out here I come” along with the song and pumping his fist in the air.

  Micah smiled. “Abby Winters?”

  Zara gave him a suspicious look. “Yeah…why? Don’t tell me you know her.”

  “Not really. Her mom is friends with my dad. Norah Winters. Drake didn’t tell me he left with her when he ditched me, but I assumed he had found someone who could tolerate him for an evening.”

  Zara felt like he wasn’t telling her something. She figured he was just trying to be loyal to his friend and not divulge anything that might break guy-code. She could pry it out of him later, she thought. No sense ruining another one of her nights out over Abby. She changed the subject.

  “So, I gotta know, what kind of wine is this? It’s really good.” She took another sip and smiled at Micah, who seemed relieved at the new topic.

  “That, my dear girl, is a Caspari family secret,” he replied.

  Zara’s look turned to pure confusion. “Caspari family? Is that like a mafia family or something?”

  Micah laughed and shook his head. “No, we would be the Caspari family. And it’s not Italian, it’s Hungarian. Wanna sit down?” He started walking towards an empty table towards the corner of the yard and Zara trailed after him.

  “This is all so nice,” she said, sitting down at the table.

  “We try our best,” Micah said humbly.

  A row of candles burned away on the table, and the two drank their wine, exchanging playful glances through the dancing fire.

  “I am really glad you came,” he said finally, fiddling with his leather band on his wrist. She couldn’t help but find Micah’s own nervousness a bit endearing.

  “Me too. Sorry if I insulted you. You really don’t look like mafia people at all. I’m just jealous that you have such a cool last name. Mine is Lane.”

  “No offense taken,” he replied, waving down a girl carrying a tray of full wine glasses. He took two off and placed one in front of Zara. The girl lingered there for an awkward moment, staring at him. “You may go now,” Micah said as kindly as possible. The girl nodded and went off.

  “I think she likes you,” Zara said, trying to mask her annoyance.

  He ignored the comment and raised his glass of wine. “To new friends.”

  She raised her glass but before she could return the toast, something caught her eye: a reflection on her wine glass, something flowing and white. Vivian’s dress.

  “I trust you’re having a good time?” Vivian asked, and Zara turned in her chair and smiled.

  “Absolutely. You guys did an amazing job with the yard,” Zara again looked at the magnificent lanterns overhead.

  “Why thank you, although this one didn’t help very much, he was too busy playing some silly video game in the living room.”

  Micah laughed, “My sister is not a fan of technology, or anything more complicated than a toaster oven.”

  The siblings gave each other wry looks, and Zara couldn’t tell if their animosity was playful or real. Vivian lightly swept some of Zara’s hair off of her neck. “Don’t listen to this one. I’m just a slave to good taste.”

  Zara coughed up a bit of wine. She seemed to be caught in the crossfire of a staring contest between brother and sister. And she wasn’t used to strangers playing with her hair. She remembered the way Vivian looked at her at the door, and suddenly wondered if Vivian might be a lesbian.

  The bittersweet Cyndi Lauper song Time after Time began to play over the speakers, and Zara made a puzzled face and looked over at the DJ booth. A young girl with a woolen beanie had taken over for Drake. Zara scanned the party but didn’t see him anywhere.

  Vivian sat down, and began talking to an older woman who had come over and begun gushing over Vivian’s dress and how stunning she was in it. Vivian thanked the woman politely and then suggested the woman go try the crab cake, and the woman went running off to do just that. Zara suddenly remember Twig and stood up. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to tell my friend where we are sitting.”

  Micah nodded cheerfully, “We’ll be here.”

  She didn’t see Twig anywhere on the bottom floor of the house. He had a bad habit of giving himself solo tours whenever they went to someone’s home, walking off as if he had lived there for years. She found a staircase that led upwards and climbed the stairs. They were covered in soft purple carpeting with patterns of swirling white. She was looking down, admiring the carpeting, when she glanced up and unexpectedly noticed Drake, standing at the top of the stairs, grinning maniacally at her.

  “Abby’s friend,” he said with an edge in his voice. It sounded like he was a little drunk.

  “Abby’s other friend,” Zara said back, holding her ground and folding her arms across her chest to show she meant business. “Funny, last time I saw her she was talking to you, and then poof, suddenly she’s gone.”

  “No crime against being good looking is there?” He laughed and took a step closer to her and she felt a chill run up her spine. His eyes seemed to have changed from green to something…darker. She couldn’t seem to move herself away. She felt frozen.

  “You know,” he said, flashing his white teeth again, “you should have come too. We had quite a time.”

  Zara felt paralyzed. She wanted to scream but felt voiceless.

  A finger tapped Drake on the shoulder, and his eyes flickered back to a soft green. He turned and smiled. “And you must be Twitch. Zara’s little friend.”

  Twig returned the smile with a smirk. “Twig, actually. And you must be D.J Lizard.”

  Drake snorted. “DJ Dragon.”

  The two locked eyes, glaring at one another.

  “It’s funny,” Drake said calmly, “but I used to know someone who looked just like you,” he began to study Twig’s face. “But he was much older. But I’d be damned if you couldn’t be his son.”

  Twig tensed up and tightened his hands into fists. Drake’s face turned to a scowl. Just as the tension became unbearable, a voice came up from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Oh! There you are!”

  Vivian strode up the stairs with both her hands on her hips.

  Zara caught her breath and looked nervously at Drake, who threw an arm around Twig. “I was just introducing myself to Zara’s friend here. He’s absolutely hilarious. But I must get back to it. Somebody has to set the mood around here.”

  Vivian frowned at him as he descended the steps muttering, “right round, round, round...”

  “Don’t mind him, he is an eternal man-child,” Vivian said dismissively. She noticed that Zara appeared shaken.

  “Are you alright?” Vivian asked. “Do you need to lie down? You look pale.” She touched Zara’s head lightly with the back of her hand. That same icy touch that Micah had.

  “No, I’m okay, just a bit of a head rush, but it’s passed.”

  “Pale seems to be in vogue anyway,” Twig said coldly.

  Zara wondered what was up with Twig tonight, he was acting stranger than she was. She started to wonder if someone had slipped them both LSD or something.

  “Do come back to the table,” Vivian said. “I will bring you a salad. Maybe you’re just hungry. Micah looks positively lonely without you there.”

  Vivian went down the stairs, beckoning them with her hand.

  When she disappeared out of view Zara looked at Twig.

  “Okay. Seriously, what is up with that guy? He is totally psycho. And his eyes…”

>   Twig frowned. “Don’t you find all these people a little odd?”

  She thought about it. “Maybe they’re a bit eccentric, but Vivian is sweet, and you haven’t even met Micah.”

  Twig looked uneasily down the long dark corridor behind them. Zara knew he was holding something back, along with all the other stuff he kept in that secret room in his head.

  “No, but I think it’s about time I did,” he said, and ushered her down the stairs.

  8.

  “Nice to meet you,” Micah said, extending a hand to Twig.

  Twig waved at him as if he was far away. “And you as well. The Damned. Great band,” he said, tilting his wine glass towards Micah’s shirt.