"You are already acquainted with my thrall, Asa."
"Yeah. Hey," said Doug to the thrall.
Asa somehow managed, without twitching a muscle, to favor Doug with one last, breathtaking display of contempt before leaving the room.
"You are the first to arrive," said Cassiopeia. "How embarrassing for you."
Doug followed her through dark, wide doors into a sort of study. More candles here, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and one of those wheeled ladders on tracks that Doug had never seen in real life before. Curved steps at one end of the room rose to a platform that accommodated a small piano and three high-backed chairs.
"You may repose here and await the others. The chairs upon the dais are reserved. Each object in the drawing room is worth a small automobile. Reflect on this before you touch anything." With that, she left.
Doug stood stiffly. The air felt old, somehow, more brittle, and it smelled like books. He tried not to breathe it too deeply. He felt so terribly aware of himself here — heavier, fleshier…itchy.
Two guys who looked very much like Victor soon arrived, guys who looked like they were not so much born into this world as hiked, by quarterback, into an American flag. They took up places in the room and stared at Doug like he’d sat down at the cool kids’ table. He was certain they were vampires, too, from the smell. With so many in such close proximity the room was growing sour with an old-milk stink that filled your throat. Could regular people not smell this? He realized now that he couldn’t trust Jay to tell him he stank, though he was confident Jay’s sister would have mentioned it.
Victor himself came next, and stood at the far end of the room, and appeared to pointedly not stare at Doug; it was only for this that you might have guessed that the two boys knew each other at all. Doug fumed. They were all junior varsity vampires here, weren’t they? They’d all made the team one way or another. In a hot rush he realized that Victor had always planned to attend the gathering. He just didn’t want Doug there.
The great door opened and shut again. Finally, another girl. She was the last to arrive and the first who seemed to know how to dress for this sort of thing. She had straight green hair that just brushed her bare shoulders, and Doug imagined riding a tiny toboggan down their powder-white slopes into the foothills of her bust. She wore a black leather halter and skirt that showed a lot of everything. She looked to Doug like a video game character.
Signora Polidori returned now with another man. He was strikingly handsome in a way that looked very foreign next to all the homecoming kings in the room. Victor and his kind were big dogs, but here was a wolf, his face lean and sharp. He and Cassiopeia alighted on two of the three chairs.
"There! now," said Cassiopeia. "All are here who will be here."
All? thought Doug. The third chair was still bare as a headstone. He could feel the others beside him glancing at it, too.
"I am, as ever, Cassiopeia Polidori. At my left is Alexander Borisov. The third place is set out of respect for Mr. David, who enjoys his solitude. Until recently, we three were the only so ennobled for a hundred miles."
"What about Asa?" asked the green-haired girl.
"Asa is not of our kind."
"What is he, then?"
"He is my butler. Now. A gathering of the ton such as this will by no means be commonplace. For reasons you may have already deduced, our breed tend not to mingle." Her nostrils flared slightly, and the point was made. "It is customary, however, for our kind to mentor those they grace — to guide, and to teach discretion. Discretion is paramount. You tell no one what you are. You speak to no one of our concerns."
First rule of bite club: you do not talk about bite club, thought Doug. Got it.
"But that is not enough. Even in your private affairs must you be utterly clandestine. An elder shows her protégé how this is done. That you have all come so hastily and stridently to my attention suggests that you have not had the benefit—"
The green-haired girl tensed, her whole pointed demeanor aimed squarely at the seated man. "Well, if Count Dickula ever called like he said he would—"
"I got very busy," Alexander protested in a thick stew of an accent. He pronounced every word like he was pushing it uphill. "Work has been a nightmare, I can’t tell you…I was going to call this week—"
"Whatever."
"But when I heard of this party—"
"Whatever."
A thick silence filled the room. The green-haired girl crossed her arms under her chest, which Doug appreciatively noted had a sort of push-up bra effect.
Cassiopeia sighed. "Perhaps we should try to conclude with the introductions. Short boy, tell them your name."
Doug’s face boiled, but he did as he was told. The other kids took their turns.
"Danny."
"Evan."
"Victor."
"Absinthe."
"Absinthe?" slurred Alexander. "At the rave you were called Beth."
"Oh, so you remember what to call me, just not how to call me—"
"I believe it has been made rather plain how our dear Absinthe became one of us," said Cassiopeia. "I am more interested in the provenance of our other guests."
Don’t call on me, thought Doug. Don’t call on me.
"Douglas. Is the kinsman who granted your immortality present here tonight?"
"Uh, no," Doug replied, and did some quick thinking. "No…not unless it was Absinthe, I guess."
"Oh, right," said Absinthe. "Sure. It was totally me."
"Did she resemble Absinthe?" asked Cassiopeia with a note of surprise in her voice.
"It was dark," said Doug.
"Maybe his was the same one who got me," said Victor. "Doug and I talked about this already…we were both attacked in the Poconos."
"Attacked?" asked the signora. Her distaste for the word was palpable.
"Well, not ‘attacked,’ maybe. It was…it was fine."
Doug felt a surge of love and gratitude. He could have cried. He could have bumped Victor’s fist, or done one of those complicated handshakes everyone else seemed to know how to pull off but him.
Victor described his vampire then as "college aged" and "hot." Average height. Foreign. Hair that was either black or brown. Danny and Evan, in turn, described their vampires in much the same way. Danny ventured that her hair was really dark brown, not black, and Evan offered that she definitely had an accent but that it wasn’t the same as Signora Polidori’s.
"You cannot fathom my relief," she said. "Well," she added, sharing a meaningful look with Alexander, "it seems we have an enchanted stranger in our midst. Such intrigue."
"Such a delightful turn of events," muttered Alexander.
"Alas! our mysterious friend has been remiss," she continued. "Each of you should have your tutelage. I will take our Miss Absinthe under my wing; she may do well to have a fairer hand at the tiller than Mr. Borisov’s."