Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side (4 page)

"It's just bruised," Mom announced.

"Oh, good." Dad crawled out from under the sink. "I can't find the bandages, anyway. But we can still have tea."

The lanky self-proclaimed bloodsucker who had commandeered
my
seat at the kitchen table glared at me. "You are very lucky that my cobbler uses only the finest leather. You could have impaled me. And you do
not
want to impale a vampire. More to the point, is that any way to greet your future husband—or any guest, for that matter? With a pitchfork?"

"Lucius," my mother interrupted. "You did catch Jessica off guard. As I explained to you earlier, her father and I wanted to speak to her first."

"Yes, well, you certainly lingered over the task—for seventeen years. Someone had to take charge." Lucius pulled his foot from Mom's grasp and stood up, limping around the kitchen with one boot on, like a restless king in his castle. He picked up the container of chamomile, sniffed the contents, and frowned. "You
drink
this?"

"You'll like it," Dad promised. He poured four mugs.
"It's
very soothing in a stressful time like this."

"Enough with the tea. Just tell me what's going on," I begged, sitting down to reclaim my chair from Lucius. It wasn't warm at all. Almost like no one had been there just moments before. "Anybody. Please. Fill me in."

"As your parents wish, I will relinquish that duty to them," Lucius conceded. He lifted his steaming mug to his lips, sipped, and shuddered. "Good god, that's foul."

Ignoring Lucius, Mom shared a knowing glance with my dad, like they had a secret. "Ned . . . what do you think?"

Apparently he understood what she was hinting at, because Dad nodded and said, "I'll get the scroll," then left the kitchen.

"Scroll?"
Scrolls. Pacts. Brides. Why is everyone talking in code?
"
What scroll?"

"Oh, dear." Mom sat in the chair next to mine and cradled my hands. "This is rather complicated."

"Try," I urged.

"You've always known that you are adopted from Romania," Mom began. "And that your birth parents were killed in a village conflict."

"Murdered by peasants," Lucius scowled. "Superstitious people, given to forming vicious hordes." He unscrewed the lid on Dad's organic peanut butter, tested it, and wiped his finger on his pants, which were black and hugged his long legs, almost like riding breeches. "Please tell me there's
something
palatable in this house."

Mom turned to address Lucius. "I'm going to ask you to stay quiet for a few minutes while I tell the story."

Lucius bowed slightly, his glossy blue-black hair gleaming under the kitchen lamp. "Of course. Continue."

Mom returned her attention to me. "But we didn't tell you the whole story, because the topic seemed to upset you so much."

"Now might be a good time," I suggested. "I couldn't get much more upset."

Mom sipped her tea and swallowed. "Yes, well, the truth is, your birth parents were destroyed by an angry mob trying to rid their village of vampires."

"Vampires?" Surely she was joking.

"Yes," Mom confirmed. "Vampires. Your parents were among the vampires I was studying at the time."

Okay, now it was not uncommon to hear words like
fairy
or
earth spirit or
even
troll
in my house. I mean, folk culture and legends were my mom's research interest, and my dad had been known to host the occasional "angel communication" seminar in his yoga studio. But surely even my flaky parents didn't believe in Hollywood
movie monsters.
They couldn't have honestly believed that my birth parents had turned into bats, or dissolved in sunlight, or grew big fangs.
Could they?

"You said you were studying some sort of cult," I countered. "A subculture that had some unusual rituals . . . but you never said anything about
vampires?

"You have always been very logical, Jessica," Mom said. "You do not like things that cannot be explained by math or science. Your father and I were afraid the truth about your birth parents might deeply disturb you. So we kept things . . . vague."

"You're saying my birth parents actually thought they were vampires?" I sort of yelped.

Mom nodded. "Well. . . yes."

"They didn't just
think
they were vampires," Lucius grumbled. He'd retrieved his boot and was hopping around on one foot, attempting to pull it on. "They
were
vampires."

As I gawked at our guest in disbelief, the most disgusting thought in the world crossed my mind. Those rituals my mom had alluded to, related to my birth parents .. . "They didn't. . . actually
drink blood
. . ."

The expression on Mom's face said it all, and I thought I might pass out. My birth parents: deviant, disturbed blood drinkers.

"Tasty, tasty, stuff," Lucius commented. "You wouldn't, perchance, have any here, in lieu of this tea—"

Mom shot him a look.

Lucius frowned. "No. I suppose not."

"People do not drink blood," I insisted, my voice spiking kind of high. "And vampires do not exist!"

Lucius crossed his arms, glowering. "Excuse me. I'm right here."

"Lucius, please," Mom said in the calm but serious tone she reserved for hard-to-control students. "Give Jess time to process. She has an analytical bent that makes her resistant to the paranormal."

"I'm resistant to the
impossible?
I cried. "The
unreal?

At this low point, Dad returned with a mildewed scroll cradled in his hands. "Historically, a lot of people are resistant to the idea of the undead," Dad noted, carefully placing the document on the table. "And the late 1980s were an especially lousy time for vampires in Romania. Big purges every few months. Lots of very nice vampires eliminated."

"Your birth parents—who were quite powerful within their subculture—realized that they were likely marked for destruction and entrusted you to us before they were killed, hoping we could keep you safe in the United States," Mom added.

"People don't drink blood," I repeated. "They don't. You didn't
see my
parents act like vampires, did you?" I challenged. "You never saw them grow fangs and bite necks? I know you didn't. Because it didn't happen."

"No," Mom admitted, taking my hands again. "We were not allowed that kind of access."

"Because it didn't happen," I repeated.

"No," Lucius interjected. "Because biting is very private, very intimate. You don't just invite people to watch. Vampires are a sensual race but not given to exhibitionism, for god's sake. We're discreet."

"But we have no reason to believe anyone lied to us about drinking blood," Mom added. "And it's nothing to be upset about, Jess. It was quite normal to them. Had you grown up in Romania in that subculture, it would have seemed ordinary to you, too."

I yanked my hands away. "I really don't think so."

With a deep sigh, Lucius resumed pacing. "Honestly, I can't stand this going around anymore. The story is quite simple. You, Antanasia, are the last of a long line of powerful vampires. The Dragomirs. Vampire royalty."

Now that made me laugh, a squeaky, kind of hysterical laugh. "Vampire royalty. Right."

"Yes. Royalty. And that is the last part of the story, which your parents still seem reluctant to relate." Lucius leaned over the table across from me, bracing his arms, staring me down. "You are a vampire princess—the heir to the Dragomir leadership. I am a vampire prince. The heir to an equally powerful clan, the Vladescus. More powerful, I would say, but that's not the point. We were pledged to each other in an engagement ceremony shortly after our births."

I looked to my mom for help, but all she said was, "The ceremony was quite dramatic, very elaborate."

"In an enormous cave in the Carpathians," Dad added. "With candles everywhere." He gazed at my mom with loving admiration. "No other outsider ever had such access."

I glared at them. "You were
there?
At this ceremony?"

"Oh, we met lots of vampires on that trip and saw so many interesting cultural events." Mom smiled a little, remembering. "You should read my research summary in the
Journal of Eastern European Folk Culture.
It was rather landmark insider work, if I do say so myself."

"Let me finish, please," Lucius grumbled.

"Easy there," Dad chided gently. "In this little democracy, everybody gets a chance to speak."

From the disdainful look Lucius shot my dad, I could tell he didn't care much for democracy. The delusional Dracula wannabe resumed pacing. "The betrothal ceremony sealed our destinies, Antanasia. We are to be married soon after you come of age. Our bloodlines united, consolidating our clans' strength and ending years of rivalry and warfare." His black eyes gleamed, and his gaze drifted far away. "It shall be a glorious moment in our history, when we ascend to power. Five million vampires—your family, my family combined—all under our rule." My so-called betrothed snapped back to reality and glanced at me, sniffing, "I'll do all the 'heavy lifting,' of course, leadership-wise."

"You're all insane," I declared, staring from one face to the next. "This is crazy."

Moving closer to me, Lucius crouched so we were face to face. For the first time, I saw curiosity, not disdain or mockery or raw power, in his dark eyes. "Would it be so repugnant, really, Antanasia? To be with me?"

I wasn't sure what he meant, but I thought he was talking about. . . the two of us together, not in a bid for political power, but in a romantic way.

I didn't say anything. Did Lucius Vladescu really think I would fall for him, just because he had a handsome face? A killer body? That I would care that he smelled like the sexiest, spiciest cologne I'd ever sniffed . . .

"Let's show her the scroll," Dad interrupted, breaking the moment.

"Yes, it's time," Mom agreed.

I had almost forgotten the musty paper, but now Dad sat down and carefully unrolled the scroll on the kitchen table. The brittle paper crackled as he smoothed it with gentle fingers. The words—Romanian, presumably—were unintelligible to me, but it looked like some sort of legal document, with lots of signatures at the bottom. I shifted my gaze, refusing to look any closer at a bunch of nonsense.

"I shall translate," Lucius volunteered, standing up. "Unless, of course, Antanasia's studied her Romanian?"

"It's next on my to-do list," I said through gritted teeth.
Multilingual show-off.

"You would be wise to start learning, my future bride," Lucius replied, edging even closer and leaning over my shoulder to read. I could feel his breath on my cheek. It was unnaturally cool, sweet. Against my better judgment, I kept inhaling that unusual cologne, too, drawing it deep into my lungs. Lucius was so close that my curly dark hair brushed his jaw, and he absently swept the stray locks away, the back of his fingers grazing my cheek. I jolted at the touch. The sensation hit me, right in the pit of my stomach.