Neck Deep In Vampires (A BBW Urban Fantasy) (3 page)

             
“You’re getting so tan,” I said to her. “Enjoying the beach?”

             
“It is a nice change,” she admitted. “I never knew how much I’d love it here.  Don’t worry, though, I’m ready to pack it in and leave whenever you are.”  Her voice sounded distant and sad when she said that.

             
“You know, if you really love it here, you could always stay,” I said.

             
“Stay? Without vampires? What would I do?” She sounded shocked at the notion.

             
“You like doing all that graphic design stuff. You have experience doing it for Simon. He’d give you a recommendation.”

             
“Live on my own. Live without vampires. That thought had never occurred to me.”

             
“Of course it hasn’t. Thralls are always raised to think that serving a vampire is the highest achievement and honor,” I said, scowling. “It doesn’t seem entirely fair to me.  I feel like vampires get way more out of it than Thralls do.  We get Thralls catering to us, feeding us, guarding us during the day time, willing to lay down their lives for us, and what do you get?”

             
“Well…” she giggled, blushing. “There is the feeding.”

             
Okay, so the fact that Thralls have multiple orgasms when we feed on them is definitely a perk. It still didn’t seem like enough to me.

“I don’t know that that’s enough to sacrifice everything for,” I said heatedly. “I mean, I really like you, but if you’d be happier here, th
en this is where you should be. Not everyone loves brutal winters and the big city.”

             
Her eyes were getting wider and wider as I spoke.  I knew it was heresy for me to suggest that a Thrall should ever put himself or herself first, but that’s because she and I had been raised very differently.

             
Until the previous October, I had been blissfully unaware of the existence of vampires, werewolves, and the whole great big paranormal world. Like most of the human race, I’d thought that monsters were just scary stories.  Then I’d been attacked by a Rogue who’d escaped from a science lab, and I’d woke up hours later on a cold metal morgue table, violently allergic to sunlight and strangely lacking in appetite for human food.

             
Camille had been raised by a family of Thralls. The Thralls were descended from servants of the original three vampires. Until Thralls reached the age of 18, they were raised in special private schools only attended by Thralls,  and, in addition to their academic subjects, they were taught – I’d say indoctrinated with -  the same mumbo jumbo that had been handed down for centuries.

             
Vampires were god-like. Thralls had a sacred mission to serve them. Blah blah blah.  If a Thrall ever wanted to leave, they were allowed to, and then Compelled never to speak of the vampire race, but very few made that choice.

             
They seemed happy enough, but the whole setup kind of creeped me out. Unfortunately, there was no other way for me to get the blood that I needed to survive, so I had to go along with it, and as far as I could tell, all the Thralls I knew were just delighted to serve.

             
“Here we are,” Camille said.

             
The entryway to Bay Breeze was a massive, high wooden gate. There was a security guard at the booth to the exclusive little enclave, just like always.  I could tell that he was a warlock, although I only knew that because now that I’m a vampire I can pick up the dark, shimmering energy given off by witches.

             
I told him I was there to see Mirabelle Brenner. She’s the new High Priestess of the Bay Breeze Coven. She also owns a cupcake shop in town.

             
He went back to his booth and called someone.  After a minute, the gate swung open, and he leaned out of his window and told me that she was in the clubhouse.  He gave me directions and we drove in, past a massive stone fountain with colored lights, and down long palm tree lined roadways. 

             
Bay Breeze had been designed specifically so that witches would have a place to live and practice their magic in privacy.  There was a magical perception field all around the perimeter, so if anyone did manage to peek in, they wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary there.

Winding roads led past older, Victorian and Colonial style homes, many of them built around the turn of the century.  They were meticulously kept up and featured broad wooden front porches with rocking chairs, and neat, pretty flower gardens out front.

We pulled up in front of the clubhouse, a sprawling, white clapboard building. We walked along a path of concrete pavers, and found Mirabelle out back, sitting at a glass table with a group of what looked like well-dressed suburbanites who were actually all witches and warlocks. There was a big pitcher of sangria at their table, with slices of citrus fruit floating in it.

Witches and warlocks sat at tables on the patio, served by white-tuxedoed waiters. 
Classical music was piped in from speakers which were hidden somewhere. 

“We need to have all our paperwork in order
before the court hearing,” Mirabelle was saying as I walked up. “We don’t want to give them even the slightest reason to question that will.”

“It’s in order,” a man in a tan linen suit assured her. “The
will is rock solid. There were no irregularities, they’re grasping at straws.”

Mirabelle
saw me and Camille approaching and she stood up to greet me, setting down her glass of sangria. She wore a Lilly Pulitzer print dress which color coordinated with her pink strappy sandals.

“
Frankie, how lovely to see you again.” She stuck out slender, tanned arm, and I shook her hand. 

She glanced around the table, making introductions.
I didn’t recognize any of them; there had been a different group there the last time that I’d visited.

“Everyone, this is Frankie Alexander, the vampire who I told you about.
This is my sister, Narcissa, my sister Leona, my niece Emmeline, and my friend Matteo.”

I nodded politely, feeling mildly uncomfortable. I’d grown up in Florida, but in a small, redneck town
, descended from Florida Crackers – self sufficient people who grew and canned their own vegetables, mended their own fences and shopped at discount stores.  This crowd felt like old money, draped in confidence and designer clothing. Of course, they were all skinny, too. Why are rich people always skinny? I mean, they can afford to eat, for God’s sake.

“This i
s my friend, Camille,” I said.

“We don’t get many vampires here in Florida,”
Emmeline said, with the faintest hint of suspicion in her voice.  “What brings you down our way?” She looked to be in her early twenties.  She had straight, shiny blonde hair and pale blue eyes, and she wore a lime green shift and tan basket weave sandals.

“
Well, my Eternal Consort broke things off with me, and I needed to get away for a while.”  I wanted to spread that news far and wide.  Everyone needed to know that Nicholas had nothing to do with me any more.

I saw
Emmeline’s gaze flick up and down my body. She wasn’t particularly subtle about it.  I bristled.  She was thinking, well, no wonder he broke up with her. She’s fat.

“I thought that was supposed to be a forever sort of thing with you folks,” she said, raising a perfectly arched and penciled eyebrow.

“I thought so too.” I made sure that came out bitter and self pitying. 

“Well, his loss,” Mirabelle said briskly.
“May I offer you a drink?”

I glanced regretfully at the
pitcher. It looked delicious, but the only way I’d be able to taste it would be if Camille drank it and if I drank her blood.

Curse my vampire un-life.

“No, thank you,” I said. “I wish.”

“Oh, right, vampire. Sorry, I forgot.”
Mirabelle smiled sympathetically. “That’s a big sacrifice. I’d have hard time giving up my cocktail hour.

“Tell me about it,” I said fervently.

“Would you like a drink?” A handsome young warlock who’d wandered up asked Camille. He was one of the wait staff; I imagined he was still in the apprentice phase, learning and perfecting his art.  He had red hair and a sunburn. His name was Landon; we’d met him when we’d come to Bay Breeze to introduce ourselves a week earlier.

“Oh, thank you!  Don’t mind if I do.” Camille followed him over to a
tiki bar to get a drink.

“I understand you’ve got a rather unusual origin story,” Mirabelle said.

“That is true. I was attacked and Turned by a Rogue.  He’s been since found and killed.”  Vampires normally only turned their Thralls.  Even then, every Turning had to be carefully vetted; most Thralls would never be turned.  An instance like mine, of being Turned against one’s will, was very rare indeed.

“Is it true that you’
ve got powers from all three Houses?” Emmeline asked.

My, my.
I was a legend around here.

“Yes, it is true.” I stared at a napkin on the table, and it burst into flames.  They jumped. Then, I concentrated on the napkin, and levitated it to a nearby trash-can, and tossed it in.

All of the vampires in existence had been sired from three Romanian brothers, Simon, Joseph, and Andreas.  Each of the Houses had their own specific powers. I was the only vampire in the world who had powers from all three houses, and my powers were exceptionally strong – as strong as those of vampires who had been in existence for centuries.

“So you can read our minds?”
Narcissa asked me, her tone a little sharp, and nervous. Ha, she had something to hide.

“I
could, but I wouldn’t,” I said.  “I never read anyone’s mind without being invited to.” That was true. When I’d discovered the powers that I had after I was Turned, I wasn’t elated; I was horrified. To hold that kind of power over others was terrifying, and I didn’t enjoy it at all.

“See that you don’t.” Her voice was sharp, her body tense. Oh, yeah, she had secrets.  Mirabelle shot her a quizzical look, and Narcissa sat clutching her drink, her knuckles white.

An uncomfortable silence descended on us. 

“I understand you wanted to speak to me,” Mirabelle said. “How may I help you?”

“It’s about the missing familiars,” I said, and I suddenly felt a noticeable chill in the night air. 
Narcissa and Emmeline looked at Mirabelle, sharply raising an eyebrow.

“You told her about that?
Her, an outsider?” Narcissa shot a death stare at her sister.  Not a lot of love lost in this family, obviously.

“No, she did not,” I said sharply.

“We’re handling it here amongst ourselves,” Matteo said, laying his hand on Mirabelle’s arm, in an intimate, possessive gesture that drenched me in sorrow and longing.  I could almost feel Nicholas’ hand on my flesh.

“
Hardly,” Narcissa said snidely. “It’s been weeks, and nobody knows a damned thing.”

“Now who’s giving our secrets away to outsiders?”
Matteo’s voice was chilly.

Hello, I’m sitting
right here
, and I can actually hear everything you say, I thought to myself.

Mirabelle straightened in her seat, and set her glass of sangria down.
“We don’t discuss our business with strangers. No offense,” Mirabelle said, her tone gone stiff and formal.

“Who told you about it?”
Narcissa leveled a glare at me.

I
suddenly felt protective of Barney, even if he was an obnoxious little a-hole. I didn’t want to get him in any trouble.

             
“I can’t reveal that, I’m afraid. The person who told me about it was concerned, and wondered if I might be able to help somehow.”

             
“The answer is no, you can’t,” Emmeline snapped.

             
At the same time, I felt Narcissa attempting to probe my mind. Some witches can do that. However, I’d spent months and months training with the House of Simon, the vampires who had taken me in.  With that, and my freakish powers, nobody could enter my mind unless I let them.

             
“Nice try,” I said to Narcissa.

             
She turned red. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said huffily. “Mirabelle, these friends of yours are extremely rude, but then, I guess we shouldn’t have expected any better from
vampires
.”

             
I jumped in, feeling the need to defend Mirabelle. “We are not friends of hers, I have met her once before. And what’s rude is you attempting to read my mind without my permission, after you expressly requested that I not do that to you. I respected your privacy; kindly respect mine.”

             
Witches and warlocks from nearby tables were staring at us openly. They did not look friendly.