Chapter 8
Midnight Masquerade
We walked with great caution down the long wooden pier. Women in high-heels stepping upon planks of wood with gaps between them make for a slow and careful pace. Stepping as though I walked on a tight rope, I didn’t dare look up again until my feet were back on solid ground. In the shadows of the dim parking lot, two large limousines waited with doors already open and motors idling. Both drivers stood at attention, ready and waiting. When the fog rolled in, it added to the eerie stillness that already existed. The clammy mist hid all the sharp outlines of everything around us - visibility reduced to nothing more than vague shapes and movements. By the look of relief on a few faces, I wasn’t alone in my feelings as we climbed into the lighted vehicle.
The drive took about ten minutes, although the tinted windows, bright interior lights, and dense fog made any hope of scenic views quite impossible. All we could do was sit and look at one another- each soul lost in his or her thoughts. As for me, my thoughts kept on going back to the nagging feeling that, more than likely, we had made a major mistake in coming tonight.
Finally, the vehicles stopped. When the doors were opened the sound of light Celtic music filled the air. Melodies from violins, piano and flutes rolled in like waves on the ocean. The arrangement had such a beautiful and calming effect that within moments the soft dreamy music managed to ease some of my apprehension.
The air was clear and dry here, farther inland. A warm, gentle breeze drifted through my hair bringing the aroma of flowers at every movement: roses, lilacs, lavender. Each step seemed to fill my senses with another lovely fragrance.
I craned my neck up at the building we were about to enter. It was massive - at least five stories high and huge pillars lined either side of the entryway. The two doors of heavy oak were both open and bright light flowed out onto the wide cement stairway. I counted twenty before we reached the top, and the music became louder at each step. We followed Captain Red inside to a vast foyer which seemed larger than our entire dorm building. A massive double stairway on either side, each a half circle, rounded the foyer and led to places unknown. Hanging from the ceiling in the middle of all this space was a beautiful crystal chandelier the size of Fiona’s car. Two gentlemen in tuxedos took our coats and we were brought to a parlor on the right side of the stairway. In this room, there was a fireplace so large a person could stand upright in it.
A familiar painting hung on the wall above the mantle, and I stared, marveling at its strange beauty: Brilliant orange streaks burned across the sky as a thin man walked on a pier beside deep blue swirling waters. Far in the distance, two dark figures can be seen coming toward him. The man appears to be holding his face in his hands, or perhaps covering his ears, but has a most agonizing expression and wide open mouth: the epitome of fear. I thought this quite ironic, that a painting with the most befitting name, The Scream, would be displayed in a room where vampires and humans would meet. Perhaps the artist, Edvard Munch, had experienced such terror as the man in his painting did.
After a while, I was finally able to tear my eyes away from the ominous picture and take in the rest of the scenery. So far - no vampires. The room was filled with chairs and sofas, soft lighting and elegant decorations. Women servers dressed in black uniforms edged in crisp, lacy trim and little white aprons started flitting about handing out glasses of champagne to everyone. After a few moments of nervous mingling, Captain Red entered the room. It then occurred to me - we didn’t even know her name.
Her bright smile surprised me, and after getting our complete attention, she said, “Welcome to our gathering. Let me introduce myself. My name is Amrita.”
She then went on to explain what would take place for the first half of the evening. It was to be a masquerade ball where we’d be so disguised no one would be able to tell who was who, whether human or Raven, simply to get everyone to relax. I saw my sister frown and shake her head. I could see she wasn’t happy at the thought of having wasted so much time on her hair and makeup, only to mess it up wearing facemasks or wigs. I personally thought it was a grand idea. It would help us to relax, and we’d able to talk to the Ravens and not think so much about the fact that they were vampires. Just because Captain Red - Amrita, told us they weren’t allowed to do certain things here, didn’t mean there couldn’t be a rogue vampire who refused to follow the rules. The very thought of villainous vampires sent a quick chill all through me.
Fiona leaned toward me and whispered, “Don’t you just love the way she talks?”
I hadn’t noticed, but now that she mentioned it there was a slight cross between a Scottish and an English accent, although just with some of her words. I supposed she could be trying to reinvent herself, or maybe she only wanted to blend in with us non-accented Americans. Regardless, I was intrigued by the idea of costumes- not accents.
Soon we were led one by one up to a large room on the second floor where we were allowed to choose from an enormous selection. Costumes and evening gowns from every era in time filled dozens of racks. Wigs and shoes, and jewelry and masks of every sort filled rows of shelves. There was so much to pick from, it became one of those tasks that I hated. Finally, I asked the wardrobe lady, who had introduced herself as Constance, to please choose for me. She was more than happy to help. As she looked me up and down for size, she explained how she had worked for a wardrobe company that did costumes for movie stars before she retired, and that she’d taken this part time job just for fun more than anything. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was a vampire. She seemed very nice and looked normal enough with her silvery white hair and soft gray eyes. If she was one of them, her transformation must have taken place after her retirement, but there was no way I could ask such a question.
Ten minutes later, standing in front of the mirror, I could not believe my eyes. I wore a brilliant red dress from the early eighteen hundreds - so low cut that my breasts pushed up and spilled half way out, and so tight all through the upper half that I was sure if I took too deep of a breath I’d pop all the buttons. I twirled around to see the back, suddenly feeling very much like a southern bell. My shoulders were bare; the sleeves began mid-arm and were puffy to the elbow. Around my waist she wrapped a wide black satin ribbon matching the two large bows on either side of the dress near my hips. There were rubies and garnets sewn into the material, making it glittery and shiny. Each time I turned back to face the mirror, the material made a swishing sound like fine satin. The bodice formed a v in the front, tight to my navel, and the bottom of the dress blossomed out like an umbrella with large satiny ruffles all around and to the floor. I looked exactly like Scarlett O’Hara - dressed for the ball. Constance then put a black choker around my neck with a giant ruby right at the front of my throat and she handed me a pair of black lace gloves.
“What about my hair?” I asked.
She opened a drawer and pulled out one wig after the other until we found one I liked. It wasn’t easy getting all my hair to cooperate and stay under, but we managed somehow. The wig had brown curls piled up on top in an old-fashioned style. Constance placed a large red bow in the back. Lastly, she produced a southern bell mask: pale-faced, pink cheeks and red lips, and was decorated with red feathers on either side. The only thing visible of the real me were my eyes...and half of my boobs! I guessed I could pull this off since it was assumed that no one should recognize me. I stepped into the tiny little slippers of red, put my mask on, and swished down the stairway in an outlandish display of skin and crimson. Now giddy with excitement, it felt like I was on my way to a real ball.
At the bottom of the stairway another gentleman showed me to a hallway that opened to an actual ballroom! It was the size of a football field. There were already people out on the dance floor, the violin music long gone, and in its place a band played from the corner of the far end of the room. The music was upbeat, similar to what was played at our pub.
/> Tables lined both sides of the room; each held vases of fresh flowers and candles. There were pillars all along each side between the tables, and on each pillar hung old- fashioned kerosene lamps with real flames that burned bright. They cast light enough to see, but I wondered how safe we could be surrounded by so much fire.
I made my way toward the tables and was immediately accosted by Captain Jack Sparrow. This particular man attempted to mimic the way my favorite pirate spoke when he asked me to dance. Even though he made me laugh, I politely declined. He scooted across the dance floor and began to pester Cleopatra. I arrived at a table before another character could bother me with ideas of dancing, but then I realized I had no idea how I’d ever be able to sit in this dress. If I bent over, I was sure to rip open the seams, and if I tried to sit, the fullness of the dress would surely envelope me completely. I stood there like a fool not knowing what to do. I tried to bend at the knees and reach for a glass of wine that was already on the table - with absolutely no success. Before I could completely grasp the stem, my finger pushed the glass over - spilling the red liquid all over the crisp white tablecloth.
“Flaming hell!” I whispered under my breath, embarrassed beyond belief. But then I remembered I wore a mask and no one could see my blushing red face. By the time I stood up straight and took a step back, a crew of three servers appeared out of nowhere, whipped off the place settings and the stained linen, replacing everything all in about three seconds flat. They were good.
Just before they left the accident scene, a man dressed as a roaring twenties gangster came along and stood in front of me holding two glasses of wine. He wore a pinstriped suit, a black shirt and white tie, a mask that had a big red scar down the side of his face with a scruffy beard painted on it. He held his plastic machine-gun under his arm until I relieved him of one of the glasses. I thanked him from under my mask, wondering. How did they expect us to drink out of the freaking glasses? Just then a server appeared with a basket full of straws. Cute - drinking wine through straws... just what I always wanted to try. They had thought of everything.
“Hello Madam,” my suitor tipped his hat.
“Hi.” My muffled words sounded ridiculous. “Are we allowed to give our names, yet?”
“I don’t see why not. My name is Steven. Would you care to dance, Miss Scarlett? It’s an offer you can’t refuse!” He used a gravelly voice, trying to sound like the Godfather.
I curtsied and said, “Why, mercy me, Steven, I don’t rightly think so.” My southern drawl was amateurish, but he chuckled nevertheless. “I’m not much of a dancer.” I went back to my normal dialect. “My name is Lizzy, though I really do feel like Scarlett tonight.”
“Well, that’s a shame, Lizzy. I would love to twirl you around in that most exquisite of dresses. You look absolutely ravishing.”
Of course, I noticed his eyes were mostly on my chest. Annoyed and bored, I brushed off his compliment like a piece of lint, and began looking around to see if I could pick out either my sister or Fiona and have a real conversation. There were many more people here now - I guessed about fifty to sixty. It would be hard to pick them out in a costume. But I had already figured out that this gangster was Random Steve, the guy who invited Fiona. Not intriguing at all and a bit of a pest.
“Well, Miss Scarlett, I believe I will venture out and see if I can’t find myself another flower that does enjoy dancing.”
I curtsied again and nodded my head. And he was gone. Thank goodness. I stood with my back to one of the pillars sipping through my straw watching the dancers. The Grinch and Princess Leia whirled by in a breeze. Across the room, I saw Pocahontas dancing with Spiderman, and then random Steve, the gangster, tapped his shoulder and cut in. He didn’t waste any time at all.
There were angels and fairies, cowboys and Indians - all the usual costumes seen at masquerade parties. I was quite surprised, however, when I saw a man dressed as Count Dracula, considering where we were. He was tall and wore all black, except for a gold vest. His mask even had fangs showing blood dripping down the side of the mouth. His cape was black on the outside with golden threads woven through, and the inside was blood red. He stood motionless on the other side of the dance floor, leaning against a pillar looking around exactly as I was. Maybe he wished he hadn’t picked that exact costume and felt stupid, thinking it better to hold still and be seen by few rather than to mingle and be seen by all.
He turned his head to the sound when loud laughter came from his right. It was a woman dressed as Elvira sitting at a table with a few more people. This had to be Fiona. Although the laugh was muffled, I recognized it as hers. It made sense that she’d pick a dark, Goth woman since that’s exactly what she wanted to become. I toyed with the idea of strolling over to her side of the room to see if I could hear her talking. I would have to walk all the way around the room to keep from disturbing the dancers on the floor. Which direction would be shorter? Left or right? I examined both routes and decided to go left. I took a few more sips of wine almost emptying the glass - one accidental spill was enough, and began my journey. Within two steps I noticed that light-headed feeling and thought I needed to slow down on the drinking.
On my way around the perimeter of the room I spotted Santa Claus, Peter Pan, and Elvis. I turned my head back over my shoulder when one of the funniest costumes caught my eye: Napoleon Dynamite wearing dorky plaid sweat pants and crazy red hair, and his mouth hanging open wide. Not watching where I was going, I plowed headfirst into the chest of the scariest and ugliest creature of all time: an evil-looking clown, similar to one I’d seen in a movie. A killer-clown, no less. He was beyond hideous. And I hated clowns.
I gasped, just as much surprised as frightened, and he grabbed my arm to keep me from falling over. I felt a twinge of electric current run through my arm, though his hand was gloved to resemble one of those giant fake hands. And even though his voice came soft and gentle, I couldn’t stand how his face looked with those giant red eyebrows arched up well into his forehead and the huge grin of a red mouth plastered on such a chalky white face.
“I am so sorry,” he said with a slight nod, still holding my arm.
He had such a deep voice that I thought he should have dressed up as Darth Vader.
With a gentle tug, I eased my arm back saying, “That’s okay. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“My name is Rohan,” he said with a slight bow.
“I’m Lizzy,” I said, clearing my throat and looking past him. I couldn’t look at his face. It was just too repulsive.
“Would you like to dance, my lovely Scarlett?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you out there yet.” Another one calling me Scarlett. How adorable.
“Ah, no thanks.” I looked down at my hands.
“Oh, come now. I think we would fit together quite well.” In his attempt to be seductive, he reached out and stroked my arm using only one finger. I felt a flicker of goose-bumps travel up my arm, and thought if it wasn’t for his stupid costume, this would be a serious case of temptation. Something about him seemed familiar in a weird, uncanny way, which made no sense to me at all. But he was so grotesque - there was no way I could even stand to have a conversation with him.
“I’m on my way over there to speak with another guest, but perhaps later?” I didn’t want to seem rude just because he was so ugly; he may very well be an awesome guy –without the mask.
“Well then, perhaps I shall see you later.” He bowed and began to walk away. Two steps later, he turned his head glancing over his shoulder – totally giving me the creeps and chills all at once. Damn clowns ruining everything.
I continued on, this time watching and looking ahead at all times, hurrying to the table where I had seen Elvira. She was gone. Great, now what? I looked over the dance floor and spotted her dancing with one of the Three Stooges. That could be why she had been laughing; perhaps the guy thought he was a real comed
ian.
A voice from behind me said in a scratchy, annoying way, “It vill not be long now.”
I turned to see that the voice had come from the Count himself. Still leaning on the pillar looking out at the dance floor, he did not turn his head, nor look in my direction. His arms were crossed on his chest and, other than his foot tapping to the music, he was mostly still.
“Okay, thanks.” I said, rolling my eyes at his odd comment. I didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t seem all that interesting and at first, I wasn’t even sure if he had been talking to me. Only his head moved as he watched people dance by; he seemed quite bored.
It occurred to me then that perhaps I had been assuming things.
“Are you talking to me?” I asked, and then took a long sip from my straw, now emptying my glass.
He looked at me for a moment and said, “I saw you glance over vhen you heard your friend laughing. I saw vhen you spilled your vine.” His voice came across raspy and low and it seemed like he enjoyed making fun of me and all of my mishaps. At first I couldn’t get over how strange he acted, but then I realized he’d been trying to sound like he was from Transylvania. Great, another weirdo.
“What’s with all the interest in watching me?” Not that he was looking at me now; his eyes were everywhere but on me.
He snickered under his mask before he said, “You are rather hard to miss in that enticing red dress!
The way he said ‘enticing’ made me want to cover myself up. His attitude annoyed me to no end, and I didn’t bother to respond to his comment.
“I also saw you bump into Rohan,” he added. “Why did you decline his request?”
“I don’t see how that should concern you,” I snapped. “I don’t see you out there either. It doesn’t seem like you’re enjoying yourself at all there, Count. Why don’t you try dancing or something instead of just standing around making fun of people?”
“I do not care much for parties,” he sighed, completely ignoring my question.
He still sounded hoarse and kept on doing the accent, yet he spoke distinctly, sounding out every syllable and word as though he read it off of a script. The more he annoyed me, the redder my face got. It burned just as much from anger as from heat. I wondered how much longer we had to wear these absurd plastic faces. And why was this guy so evasive and irritating, and how did he know who the hideous clown was anyway?
I managed to keep my voice even and steady and asked, “So why are you even here then?”
“I did not have a choice. It is The Veinvedia.”
I kept an eye on him while we spoke, but his preoccupation in watching out for someone else became obvious; his head continued to scan over the dance floor. Just then I spotted Fiona dance by and waved at her, calling her name. She craned her head my way and waved back. I scanned the room again, looking for Melinda, assuming that she would have, most likely, chosen a skimpy outfit for her costume; she’d be upset having to discard her sexy dress for this insanity. At first I considered the Hooter’s girl. No, too chubby. Then I caught sight of Little Red Riding Hood. The cute little dress was short and low cut in front; the hooded cape was red and covered her whole head; the mask was of a little girl with a huge grin. In her right hand she held a little basket. That had to be her. I knew those legs. After all they were the same as mine.
I waved when she glanced toward me, and she waved back and grabbed her partner, pulling him to the side of the floor, and edging closer to where we stood. I wasn’t happy to see that she had been dancing with none other than my discarded clown. He stood with his hands on his hips and an air of impatience.
She bent forward and whispered, “Lizzy?”
“Of course, silly.” I giggled and then asked, “Have you seen Fiona yet?” I kept my eyes on Melinda so as not to see the ugly clown. He was glaring at me now.
“No, where is she? Did she find her soul mate yet?” she asked sardonically.
“She’s dressed like Elvira.” I did a quick scan of the dance floor and then pointed to the far corner near the band. “See her long black wig?” I ignored her other question.
“Oh wow! I thought that had to be one of the Ravens the way she was acting. I guess she’s really ready then; she fits right in!” Lindy quipped.
I sensed her clown was getting restless, though I still could not bring myself to look at his face. He remained silent and now had his arms folded across his chest, but his sigh was loud and a blatant sign of boredom. The Count had been listening to our whole conversation as well, but he had his eyes on the ugly clown man. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why Lindy danced with him - he had such a horrifying face. Eventually his throat clearing convinced her to finish their dance, and he whisked her away in a fury.
A few moments later, Fiona came by to chat. She brought her new friend, still in Stooge costume.
“Lizzy?” She lifted her mask up and peeked out at me.
“Yes, it’s me.” I nodded.
“This is Rufus,” she said as she took his hand in hers. “Rufus, meet my best friend in the whole world.”
She was fidgety, excitable, and spoke louder than usual. It made me think he was the one. He took my hand, sending a slight shock with his greeting - static electricity from dancing near Fiona, I guessed. The layers of her dress flowed with black silky material - quite revealing and sexy, and extremely static.
“Hello, Elizabeth.” As he said my name his eyes inadvertently darted toward the Count, and then back to me, and I wondered if they knew each other. “Are you with anyone yet?” He asked in a polite manner, but caught me off guard.
“No, am I supposed to be?” I knew that came off sarcastic, but the man standing before me could be the guy who’d be taking Fiona away from me. It would be hard to feel anything positive toward him.
“We don’t force anyone to couple off, but it tends to happen more often than not.”
He was one of them then - with my Fiona. Did she realize who he was, or did she plan to keep looking? I excused myself and pulled her aside for a moment.
“Fiona,” I whispered softly, “Is he the one?”
She lifted her mask so I could see her face and as soon as she did, I knew the answer. She had the hugest grin, her eyes were softer than I’d ever seen them, moist with tears, and her head went up and down like a bobble-head.
“He’s already shown me his face!” she whispered, “and he is gorgeous. He has the exact color red hair as mine, and after I asked him if he would please change me tonight, we took off our masks and he kissed me!”
I was confused. How did this happen so fast? They didn’t even know each other. What’s with the kissing? I thought he was just supposed to change her, not kiss her. Maybe I should have read more of the booklet they passed out earlier. I lifted my mask - it was so humid and hot under there. I didn’t care anymore, and I knew she saw the puzzled look on my face.
“Lizzy, it’s the thing they called ‘being chosen’ and it makes sense once you decide to be turned. I had a feeling I was supposed to be here! If you choose correctly, and find the one who has chosen you and prepared the way for you to be here tonight, you just know. It’s like it’s supposed to happen.”
Fiona appeared happier than I had ever seen her and now she’d be getting her cake and, presumably, eating it too. A small part of me was envious, and I began to wish I could find my perfect someone. My next thought was about Emrys, and how I wished we had found him and invited him. I tried to convince myself it really didn’t matter, until I pictured him hitting on some other college girl this exact minute. I had gotten myself so worked up thinking about it; I never heard the rest of Fiona’s words. Before I could stop her, she was off to the dance floor on Rufus’ arm.
I stood there dumbfounded, feeling sorry for myself. I watched Melinda twirl by with the ugly clown. His head kept turning my way and I couldn’t tell what he was looking at. It could ha
ve been either me or the Count, who still leaned against the pillar.
I thought about asking the Count to dance, more so to erase the feelings of utter depressing solitude than the actual desire to dance. But when I turned, I realized that he and Captain Red.... Amrita that was it, were in the middle of a conversation. They seemed to be arguing. Their discussion was in low tones but the words sounded sharp.
“I do wish you would re-think your wardrobe, Amrita. I may be out of bounds now, but this new fad of yours is a bit much. The least you should do is to cover yourself – even more so when you are around the Newlings.” He put his hand on his chest.
“You are out of bounds. The way I dress is not your concern. Perhaps you could better spend your time in other pursuits.” She sounded mildly agitated, but kept her composure in check. My eyes were drawn to the sparkly V of her dress, drawn down and back up; still amazed by the way it clung to her. At the top near her left breast, peeking out of the dress was a tattoo of a small black raven.
“Elizabeth!” She startled me out of my gaze when she turned away from him without warning and focused on me. She touched my shoulder for a fleeting moment - another static shock. “You look simply lovely! Are you enjoying yourself dear?”
“Sure.” I said, trying not to sound sarcastic. Although I was amazed she had such a good memory. I had told her my name hours ago, and my mask... I touched my face; I had kept it off after Fiona left me in the dust. A jasmine scented breeze blew by, and we both looked to the source; it was Lindy, now dancing with the Big Bad Wolf. How appropriate. And, for some strange reason I felt relieved she had discarded the clown.
“Hey! Watch out Lindy - he’ll bite you if you’re not careful!” I laughed at my own joke, but Amrita showed no expression at all. “Oh, I’m sorry, was that out of line?” I asked, wondering if vampires had feelings at all like humans.
“No, no, don’t worry your sweet little head off. It’s perfectly fine. We understand your ways are not our ways. We try not to judge.” She turned a sweet smile toward the Count, and as an afterthought said, “Say! Why don’t you two go have some fun?”
She took my hand and then took the Count’s hand and placed them together. I wasn’t sure if the electrical current started with Amrita or not, but I felt an even stronger surge as his hand closed on mine. One minute she’s arguing with him, and the next she’s forcing him to dance - another weird one. I supposed it would be better than standing around like a wallflower or being accosted by ugly clowns, so I allowed him to lead me out to the floor. I was grateful it was a slow dance; that I could handle. As we glided around the room, my feet barely touched the ground. He seemed quite good at this even though his personality definitely lacked any pizazz. I looked up at his mask a few times, but he kept on looking around, ahead or behind – always searching for someone else. Now that I had my mask off, maybe he thought I was hideous. Certainly my makeup looked atrocious after melting in the plastic sauna.
“My sister is right about one thing. You do look lovely,” he said softly.
His compliment took me off guard and, even though he’d gotten rid of his fake accent, his whispering continued to annoy me. And what was this tingly sensation on my back and my right hand?
“You seem a bit out of character now!” I said feeling snarky. “But thanks for the compliment. You were a little rude earlier.”
“I am sorry. As I mentioned before, I do not care much for these parties. I would much prefer to choose my mate on my own. Some of our practices are quite outdated. For example, in your world, the two of us could just go upstairs and have our own private party. I believe we would have a smashing good time of it, and I...”
I tensed up as he spoke, and when I jerked my head he stopped in his tracks. Not another player, please God! What made this guy think I’d just run right upstairs with him. And I had just started to think that maybe he wasn’t such a big jerk after all. So much for the phony compliment.
“I am sorry. I spoke out of line. I did not mean to assume anything. I simply meant to give you an example of our differing societies.”
His whispered apology sounded sincere and I relaxed again.
Still gliding me across the floor, he glanced down for a moment and said, “Not only are you quite lovely to behold, I am astounded by your beauty. In all honesty, if I did have a choice, I would fancy someone like you.”
“But because of the rules, you are not allowed to even suggest that, are you?”
“I do grow tired of these rules and regulations we must abide by, and I often wish things could go back as they used to be - before the Ravens changed everything.”
“You don’t mean to say that…like… when you used to… kill humans?” My words came out like a stuttering shiver and it traveled all though my body.
“No,” he said stifling a chuckle. “I am referring to all the rules of the Gathering. The human must seek you out; they must ask to be turned. Everything is up to them. These rules and regulations tend to be so very trying and unchanging. We used to be able to tell the humans we had chosen them; there was less heartache that way. I believe our females had too much say in the matter once the feminine movement got under way in the early nineteen hundreds. It affected us as well as you humans. I have seen it enough to know: once was enough for me.”
“So you’re saying your heart was broken?”
“It was a long time ago.” He gave a slight nod as he explained, “She never knew I existed, but the feelings I felt were strong. I thought I had obeyed all the rules. I entered her world for a while and I watched her living her life. But when she came to the Gathering, she chose another. They live in Australia now.” He cleared his throat. “I was told it was not meant to be, that I had chosen the wrong girl. I should have gone to the prophetess first. This Gathering is my first in over fifty years.”
“But you are over her now?” I asked, now thinking more about the prophetess.
“By all means. I would not be able to love another otherwise.”
It dawned on me then why he had seemed so preoccupied, “So you’ve found another?”
“I have indeed.” His gravelly voice grated on my nerves.
He glanced down at me for a moment, and then looked away, up over my head. I wished he would take off his mask so I could see what he looked like before he ran off with his “chosen mate.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“I go by many names, but until my mate chooses me, I must continue in this masquerade.” He breathed a heavy sigh.
“This is really stupid, you know. How can anyone expect to find their perfect mate without even seeing them? I don’t see why all the secrecy has to be so...” I stopped myself and said, “Well, maybe I shouldn’t be dancing with you then. How can she find you, if I’m in the way?”
“They say the two will be drawn to one another.” His flat tone made me think he didn’t believe it himself.
“Well, then, it’s settled,” I said as I stopped dancing and glanced up at his synthetic face. “I need to get out of the way.” I certainly didn’t want to be the one to get in the way of his destiny.
“As you wish.” His subdued whisper emitted a flicker of frustration, but the passive shrug said he wouldn’t argue. The minute he let go of my hand I felt waves of sadness.
I turned away downcast, went to the closest table and jammed myself down into the chair. I didn’t care if my dress came up around my ears, I had to get off of my feet and I couldn’t take any more rejection. I never looked back to see which way the Count had gone, but he definitely had not followed me either.
A waiter came and asked me if I was ready to be served, and that’s when I realized the hollowness in my stomach – partly hunger and partly frustration. Many others now sat around the tables eating. A few moments later, Fiona and Rufus joined me and ordered their meals.
As I waited for my food, feeling so much li
ke a third wheel, I noticed that Rufus reminded me of the man in the boat. Larkin was blonde and clean-shaven, but I supposed they could be related.
Within moments, platters of sizzling hot fillet mignon were brought out along with baked potatoes, salads and baskets of hot buttery bread. I looked at Fiona, half expecting to see her scowling. She had already transferred her meat to Rufus’ plate and started eating her salad. I was reminded of the last time we had eaten lunch together, discussing this party. And here we were - she was right: the legends were real.
I watched them for a while as they ate. With absolute giddiness they fed one another, held hands, giggled and kissed repeatedly. I couldn’t decide what sickened me more; the lovebirds, or my overwhelming envy.
I cut into my steak and took a taste; it melted in my mouth. It was grilled to perfection, juicy and rare, exactly the way I like it. I guessed they knew everything about us somehow. Right now I didn’t care. I just wanted to fill the empty place in my stomach, and I dug into my meal with abandon.
I glanced up and saw Melinda at another table sitting between two men without masks. How weird. She giggled and laughed, obviously enjoying herself. So much for her not wanting to be here. I enjoyed the meal, but an ever-increasing sense of gloom started to creep up around me like ugly weeds. Unbelievable as it seemed, I was about to lose my best friend. And if my sister enjoyed herself too much, perhaps she’d change her mind as well. I began to wish I had never heard of the damn legends. I continued eating in silence.
After scanning the entire football field of a room, I noticed only a few people still wore their masks. What die-hards. I chuckled to myself - some of them were already dead, more or less. Rohan, the clown man, sat at a table with one male and two females. I watched him as he took off his mask to eat. Thank God! As he set the mask down on the table beside his plate he turned his head toward me and gave me a slight nod. Not a bad looking guy without the disguise. He had a full head of wavy brown hair that came just past his shoulders, a thin mustache and trim goatee. Not bad at all, but not my type - as if I had a type. I was kidding myself again. I didn’t have a clue what I wanted in a guy. I sighed, and continued looking around the ballroom. My short-term gangster friend still had his mask on - he danced with Super Woman now. Hope it works out for them.
My eyes wandered back to the Count. Why couldn’t he just tell me his name? I wouldn’t tell anyone. He cranked his head all around, still watching and waiting. I noticed that he seemed to keep a close watch on the clown man - Rohan, and every now and then Rohan looked up from his dinner and met the Count’s glance.
When I finished eating, I thought about going to the ladies room to freshen up, though I had no idea how I would do this wearing such a huge dress. It seemed like the costume session should be coming to an end soon. Let’s get on with whatever is next. Shall we?
Amrita stood at the front by the band, and the music stopped. She took the microphone and told us we were free to roam about the building, anywhere but the top two floors, and we could change back into our regular clothes if we desired to do so. She added that we should refer to our booklets for any questions we may have. I found it easier to ask questions than to read an instruction book.
I stood up nearly pushing my chair down when one of the bows from my dress became tangled in the backrest. I yanked at the material, turned around, and made a beeline over to the Count without even thinking about it.
“What’s next...Count? Will we be getting out of these costumes soon or what?”
“I cannot, just yet. But feel free to use the dressing rooms at the top of the stairs. I shall remain here.”
“Fine.” I took that as another rejection. What does it take to get some attention around here? I walked away, feeling dejected and full of self-pity. Maybe I’ll just find myself another vampire to flirt with then. I went upstairs and changed back into my blue dress which was much more comfortable. I used the ladies room, fixed my hair and makeup; now ready to get on with the rest of the evening. More than anything, I couldn’t wait to get back home. Tomorrow I could go meet Emrys at the pub. I had my fingers crossed hoping he’d be there, but I wasn’t holding my breath.
Before I even made it to the top of the stairs, Rohan stopped me and asked me if I’d like to join him for a glass of wine. Without the hideous mask, he didn’t seem so bad, and I accepted. He led me to a smaller, more secluded room where a few couples looked to be quite comfortable, and we sat on a sofa and started to drink our wine. I could only assume that Rohan had not chosen anyone and only wanted to have a good time and maybe even a little human companionship, though not in the way most humans would expect at all. I wondered what it would feel like to have him chew on my neck. I imagined that the initial piercing would hurt somewhat. But what then, pain or pleasure? The only way I’d ever find out is to ask. I wasn’t sure how to word it. I didn’t want him to prematurely begin to draw my blood, still not completely positive if I wanted this life. I had to admit: all the vampires I had met so far were beautiful, polite, and gifted with grace. I felt my will power weaken as the temptation grew. Most likely the only thing that held me back would be my sister not wanting the same thing as I wanted – at least so far.
“Rohan, tell me about what happens when a human is... turned.” I asked feeling anxious and shaky.
He touched my hand, which sent a little charge through me. This reaction made me think something was wrong with me. Every time I came in contact with anyone lately, they gave me varying degrees of static shocks. Maybe the high wire tower near to our dorm had some strange effect on me. I had heard stories about that; even my heart rhythm seemed to be off kilter the past few days.
“I can tell you from personal experience, Scarlett, I believe that you would love it.” His voice remained calm but his copper colored eyes bore into me with a fierce desire.
At first thought, it was kind of cute how he still called me Scarlett even without my costume on - until I realized the look in his eyes could be more of a bloodlust.
“It hurts only a little, at first bite, and then as your life force begins to leave you, there is only peace.” He made it sound so easy, but how much was he sugarcoating it to make it more appealing?
I took a deep nervous breath and said, “I see.”
“I assume your decision is still in deliberation then?” Licking his lips slowly while gazing at my neck; his eyes began to appear metallic. A sudden dreadful feeling came over me - a feeling of utter fear and repulsion at the same time.
Heart pounding, I swallowed hard and said, “Yes, the jury is still out on this one.” Easing farther away from him; I geared up to flee - sensing his impatience with me at once. His hand brushed over my cheek sending unwelcomed gooseflesh down my spine, and then he swept my hair back - I assumed to get a better view.
“You have a delectable looking neck, I must say.” He cocked his head to the side – fixated, as though he could see through to the pulsing artery, and he sniffed deeply. His eyes: now dark pools of molten lava.
“Are you supposed to say these things to me?” His preoccupation with my neck made me even more nervous now.
“I have not said anything you don’t already realize yourself. You are a beautiful woman, and I would be delighted if you chose me to turn you - that’s all. It is of course, entirely up to you.”
He sounded condescending now. He ran his finger back and forth on my neck, and his vision focused on his tracing of it. I took a large sip of wine, brushing his hand aside.
“I’m sorry Rohan; this is too intense for me right now. If and when I decide, you’ll be the first to know. I promise you.” I was extremely frightened of him, and I needed to leave before he tried something. I did not trust him one bit.
“So, that’s how it’s going to be,” he said as he watched me get to my feet. His voice came at me like daggers, quiet but angry, and his narrowed eyes matched his tone.
I was dizzy. I told him I needed to use the ladies room and as I started to turn to leave he grabbed my wrist with a painful grip.
“Do make sure you return to me, Scarlett,” he commanded. “I know I can give you exactly what you need.” He glared into my eyes.
Not only was I filled with sheer terror, but my anger grew even stronger with his unwelcomed touch. I wrenched my arm away without another word. I turned fast on my heel and didn’t look back. I left him sitting there in what had to be extreme fury, and possibly even agony. It had to take massive amounts of control for them; knowing that fresh, warm blood flowed within striking distance, so close and yet so far. I couldn’t help but think he didn’t care much for any of the rules. I rushed away, all the while hoping he wasn’t following me. I needed to get away from him right now - as fast as I could. God help me.