Her smile remained for Robby’s sake. Even in Benedikte’s dejection, he could still imagine she was the angel who’d gazed down on him from a movie screen, flowers in her hair, wearing her purity like an elusive fragrance. For nights afterward, Benedikte had talked himself into believing that her smile was just for him, as Tereza’s never would be again.
He finally answered his favorite Elite. Nathan Pennybaker told me that he and his son had discussed Robby’s future, and that Robby wanted a new, even more successful child-actor career. He can have that with my help, Eva. As a vampire, he can have a second life, a third one, a—
Did you ever ask Robby?
With her sharp question, Benedikte could discern her own hurt. Deep down, Eva felt that she’d made the wrong decision in being here, that she’d been talked into the Underground by silver-tongued agents and managers who’d preyed on her fear of growing older and losing a career that supported her family.
I love you, he said, and you know I’d do anything to avoid hurting you.
Love. Eva’s smile slipped as she stared at him. You don’t know anything about love.
I know enough to feel it.
You don’t have feelings. You think you do, but they’re only wishes. You want what you can’t have.
The Elites finished their drinks and called to the Groupies for more. Benedikte gazed at them. His children. His dreams.
Most of the Groupies crawled over to their social betters, skin smooth underneath their netted shirts and dresses. In the meantime, one of them turned on the small televisions stacked in modern-art disarray around the emporium, bringing to light multiple images of MTV dancing in tandem.
The performer, Madonna, wiggled across the screens, and the Groupies moved their hips in imitation, rising in front of the Elites in a sinuous dance.
But when the TV revealed that Madonna was wearing a crucifix, the pets all gasped at once, averting their faces.
After a stunned pause at seeing the jewelry, the Elites laughed. They’d inherited their master’s immunity but, since they weren’t old enough to lose as much faith as Benedikte, the first sight of something like a crucifix still took them aback.
But within seconds, the shock was forgotten.
Hungers stoked, most of the higher-level vampires grabbed their choice of pet, running their hands below the netted clothing, exploring flesh and priming it for their playful bites.
Immortal gods, Benedikte thought. His progeny, ever-living idols in the eyes of society. And that made him a part of their heavenly rotation, too. They reflected what he was, just like moons sharing light from the sun.
He heard Eva’s silent laugh. Look at you. If you’re so in love with all of us—with our “specialness”—why haven’t you ever tried to be famous yourself?
He blocked her out, not wanting to admit that maybe he was the moon and they were the sun. He didn’t have the courage to do what they did, to find out if he would “make it” in their Above world.
You’re avoiding all the hard questions again, she added.
Slowly, he turned back to Eva, wounded by her anger.
She cradled the boy’s head. Aside from everything else, you can’t pretend Robby’s never going to give you grief. I know him. I’ve worked with him. He’s a troubled kid and what you’ve done to him is going to create a monster.
I thought a companion—
A companion? Her eyes flared. What’re you going to do next? Try to turn my husband? Or maybe even my daughter someday?
At the mention of Frank Madison, Benedikte steeled himself to take more punches.
Don’t even think of touching anyone else I was close to, she continued. Do you understand?
Each word was another illusion shattered. Benedikte’s vision fragmented until he felt like he was looking out of a cracked mirror.
What you saw wasn’t always what you got. He’d always known that. So why was it killing him to admit it?
He reached out to her, but she moved away. The only closeness she allowed him was during her monthly infusions. That was all. He might never get anything more.
But he hoped. He couldn’t stop.
Strangely, that hope heated up in the pit of his temper. It melted, twisted, shaped itself into hideous fury. He wanted to strike out in any way possible.
Maybe, he said, down the road, your husband will find someone else, Eva. And maybe your daughter could love me if you can’t.
She flew up from her seat. Robby shrank into himself, his widened gaze raised to her.
“Don’t ever threaten anyone I love,” she said out loud, voice quivering. “I’ll hurt you beyond comprehension without even a second thought.”
Then, gathering Robby, she guided the boy away, never even looking back at Benedikte as she disappeared in the direction of her room.
Never even looking back.
In the chasm, the Elites and their pets enjoyed themselves, a sea of skin and blood undulating on the floor. Mouths on bellies, red and slick, fangs scraping over thighs. Legs parted, hips arched and rocking. A temple of pleasure.
Dispassionately, Benedikte watched them, Master of it all.