Chapter 8
Because the Graveses were out of the country and Lilith had been their daughter's closest friend, tradition dictated that she be the one to host Tanith's totentanz, where everyone gathered to exchange token sympathies and then sing, dance, and drink in memory of their fallen comrade, all the while laughing in the face of death.
Back in the day, the parties would go for weeks. But given the short notice and the fact that everyone was just so busy nowadays, Tanith's totentanz was, by necessity, limited to a single night.
"There you are!" Sebastian said, his face pulled into an approximation of sympathy. "I was absolutely horrifi ed when I heard what happened, sweetie!"
"Thank you, Seb," Lilith replied as they exchanged air kisses. "It was sweet of you to agree to hold Tanith's totentanz here."
"It's the least I can do, darling, considering the circumstances." Sebastian sighed. "Besides, Sunday is a slow night."
Thanks to email and IM, news of Tanith's end at the hands of the Van Helsings had spread like wildfi re through the popular kids of both Bathory Academy and Ruthven's as well as among many of the older, recently matured graduates. Lilith looked around the club at all the beautiful young men and women drinking snifters of laced blood.
"It's great to have such a strong turnout on such short notice," she said.
"Ooh! Rene, look! There's Lilith!"
Lilith turned her head in the direction of the squeal and sighed as she saw Rene Grimshaw and Bianca Mortimer bearing down on her.
Pasting an all-purpose smile on her face, she said,
"Glad you could make it."
"Oh, we wouldn't have missed this for the world, Lili!" Rene exclaimed. "I mean, everyone who is anyone is here!"
"I'm sure Tanith would appreciate it," Lilith said dryly.
"Ooh! Lilith! Is it true you were there when Tanith was killed?" Bianca asked, her eyes gleaming with ghoulish fascination.
Rene leaned forward expectantly, like a robin waiting for a worm. "Ooh! Was it gross? Do you think it hurt?"
"I don't know," Lilith replied, taken aback by the barrage of questions. "It all happened so fast. . . ."
"Weren't you scared?"
Before Lilith had a chance to answer, Bianca nudged Rene, pointing across the room. "Isn't that Dustin Grabstein? The one you have the crush on?"
"Oh. My. Gods." Rene giggled, all but swooning.
"Come on!" Bianca said, tugging on her friend's arm. "Let's go talk to him!"
"Bye, Lilith!" Rene called over her shoulder. "See you at school tomorrow night!"
Sebastian laughed as he watched Bianca and Rene totter off. "Don't let those bubble heads bother you. I'm making sure all Tanith's truly close friends are escorted upstairs, love."
When she got to the Loft, Jules rose to meet her, his eyes luminescent in the dim light.
"Sorry I'm late," she said.
"I would have ordered you a drink, but I didn't want it to coagulate before you got here. I'll go get it for you. . . ."
Lilith was surprised by how considerate Jules was acting; it felt good. Sitting down on the sofa next to Melinda to wait for Jules, it took her a moment or two to realize who was missing.
"Has anyone seen Sergei?" Lilith asked.
"He's around here somewhere," Oliver said vaguely. Lilith wondered if Sergei was upset. Suddenly images of Tanith's body lying crumpled on the ground began to fl ash through her mind's eye. Then Tanith's face became her own.
Horrifi ed, Lilith glanced down at her hands and saw that they were trembling. "Please excuse me for a moment," she said, snatching up her purse.
As Lilith hurried to the ladies' room, she felt a sort of panic starting to set in.
Even though she knew it made no sense, she needed to see her own face looking back out at her to reassure herself that she wasn't the one who was dead. She just needed a little peek, that's all.
As she opened the door to the ladies' room, she automatically scanned the fl oor beneath the toilet stalls to see if any of them were occupied. A pair of masculine legs was clearly visible in the farthest stall, black leather pants pooled atop his boots.
At fi rst Lilith thought one of the male partygoers was too wasted to realize he was in the ladies' room. Then she heard heavy breathing coming from the stall, followed by the sound of a woman's voice moaning in ecstasy. Lilith smiled and nodded, her anxiety momentarily forgotten. What better way to spit in the face of death than to screw during a totentanz?
Listening to the mystery lovers was starting to arouse her. After she was fi nished looking in the mirror, she would go fi nd Jules and see if he was as adventurous as the owner of the black leather pants.
The stall began to violently vibrate, as if the couple on the other side was trying to knock the door off its hinges. The female's cries suddenly became feverish, while the male groaned. A moment later, a second pair of legs, these decidedly feminine, dropped into sight, and the stall door swung open.
Lilith wondered if she should duck into the other stall, for modesty's sake, but decided not to bother. Her curiosity was piqued and she was dying to discover the identities of the mystery lovers. Besides, how much privacy could you possibly expect while fucking in a public restroom?
A tall, thin girl with long, black hair tottered out of the stall on a pair of wedges as she yanked the bodice of her dress back up over her exposed breasts. Lilith instantly recognized her as Samara Bleak, one of her classmates at Bathory. Samara froze the moment she saw Lilith, a look of stunned surprise on her face. A second later Samara's partner exited the stall, still pulling up his leather trousers.
"Sergei - ! What the hell?" Lilith exclaimed.
"Oh, hi, Lilith," Sergei said with a hazy, post-coital smile. "You know Samara, right?"
"I best be going," Samara said, scurrying out the door.
"Sergei - what are you doing?" Lilith stared in disbelief as he zipped up his fl y. "Tanith hasn't been dead forty-eight hours and you're already fooling around with someone else?"
"I was fond of Tanith." Sergei shrugged. "But it was never serious. She would not expect me to stay brokenhearted."
"You'd have to be brokenhearted fi rst in order to stay brokenhearted!" Lilith snapped.
"What I had with Tanith was fun," Sergei said. "But now it is over, never to return. There will be others who will make me feel the same way she did. You need to get with the spirit of the totentanz, Lili."
"You're such a pig, Sergei!" Lilith spat as she exited the ladies' room, slamming the door behind her. She strode angrily across the salon, motioning for the bartender to set her up with another drink. She took a deep draught of the laced blood, only to grimace in distaste. She pushed the drink aside and turned back to rejoin the others, nearly colliding with Jules. His smile quickly disappeared as he saw the look on her face.
"Is something wrong?"
"You mean besides Tanith being dead and never, ever coming back again?" she replied, loudly enough that those closest to them fell silent and stared at her. "Oh, I'm sorry," Lilith said to the sea of vaguely familiar faces gawking at her. "I didn't mean to interrupt the party."
"They're just doing what she would have done,"
Jules said. "Tanith loved partying more than anyone. You know that. She would have wanted it this way. None of us can change what happened. All we can do is just keep on like we did before and not let it change us."
"I know." Lilith sighed. "I guess I'm still upset, that's all."
"Jules! My man! How's it hanging?"
"Huh? Oh, hey, Sergei," Jules replied, momentarily distracted by his friend's arrival.
"Forget it, then," Lilith snarled, fl ashing Sergei a look as black and sharp as volcanic glass. "I'm going home."
"What's up with her?" Sergei asked. "Was it something I said?"
Sunday was laundry night in the Monture household. While stripping the bedclothes from her mother's bed earlier that evening, Cally had found yet another shutoff notice from Con Ed stuffed under the mattress, where Sheila habitually hid things she didn't want to deal with. The laundry would have to wait.
Cally didn't have the money she'd planned on from the park and needed to make up the difference if she wanted to keep the lights on. Since the Van Helsings had made the park too hot for comfort, she would have to stick closer to home. And there was only one place in Billyburg where she could fi nd the type of prey she needed: Underbelly.
Cally went to her room and rummaged through her closet in search of something sexy to wear. She fi nally settled on a yellow satin miniskirt with a green corset bodice that she knew showed off her alabaster shoulders and shapely legs to their best advantage. She then slipped on the new pair of Miu Miu heels she'd snapped up last week at the consignment store off Bedford Avenue.
Once she was dressed, she put on eyeliner and lipstick like her grandmother had taught her, using only her delicate fi ngers as a guide. Once she was fi nished, she sneaked a quick peek in the compact she kept in her vintage clutch purse, just to make sure everything was on straight.
As she walked through the living room, she saw that her mother was engrossed in yet another movie. This time she was watching The Brides of Dracula.
"I need to go out. I'll be back in a few hours, Mom,"
Cally said, trying to make herself heard over the 5.1 Dolby.
"Be careful, sweetheart," Sheila Monture replied, waving good-bye without bothering to look away from the fl at screen.
Located in the basement of a converted mayonnaise factory, Underbelly was the kind of club where identifi cation was rarely checked, the drinks were poured strong, and drugs freely passed hands - in short, it was a good place to prey.
The doorman barely gave her a second look as she entered the club. She ordered a drink at the bar, then pretended to sip it as she scanned the room. Even on a Sunday, it was crammed with international scenesters, young models, and Williamsburg hipsters with paint-speckled pants and arms swarming with tattoos.
"Cally! Where have you been keeping yourself?"
She turned to smile at Simon Magi, an old school friend from Varney Hall. He squeezed her arm in his friendly way, pointing to Cindy Darko, who was calling them over to one of the dimly lit booths that lined the walls of the bar.
"We haven't heard from you all weekend," Cindy said. "How come you're not answering messages?"
"Oh, I've been around," Cally said, sliding into the booth opposite them. "I ran into trouble across the river the other night. Washington Square Park is crawling with Van Helsings."
"Are you okay?" Simon asked, his face showing concern.
"Yeah. I got away clean. But I did see someone else get staked while I was there."
"Founders have mercy!" Cindy gasped, covering her mouth in surprise. "Was it anyone we know?"
"No," Cally replied, shaking her head. "It was some oldie."
Simon and Cindy exchanged a relieved look. "Praise the Founders for that, at least." Cindy sighed.
"So, are you ready for that big test in Mr. Dirge's luring class this week?" Simon asked.
"Yeahhh. About that." Knowing how intense the rivalry was between dear old Varney Hall and Bathory Academy, Cally knew she was heading into rough waters. "I've been going through changes the last couple of nights. . . ."
"How so?"
"It seems my asshole dad has made big plans for me."
"Your dad?" Simon frowned. "The one you've never met?"
"That's the one." Cally took a deep breath. She knew there was no putting it off. She might as well tell them and get it over with. "He's decided to 'better my education' by sending me to Bathory Academy."
"You've gotta be shitting me!" Simon's face suddenly drew itself tight.
"I wish I was. Tomorrow's my fi rst night. I've got to wear a school uniform and everything. This afternoon he had the uniforms delivered to the apartment. I hope you never see me in it." Cally grimaced in distaste.
"But Bathory's an Old Blood school!" Cindy exclaimed, stating the obvious.
"It was tough enough at Varney Hall - I can only imagine how welcome I'm going to be at Bathory. But I've got to do it."
"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Simon said, already a former friend. "Speaking of school, Cindy and I better get going."
"Huh?" Cindy said, surprised by Simon's sudden announcement. "Going where? It's still early. . . ."
"You remember, Cindy," Simon said, dragging her out of the booth by her elbow. "We've got that exam in undead management tomorrow."
"We do? Oh! Right! We do!"
"That's okay. I understand," Cally said as they hurried off.
She'd dared to hope for more support from Simon and Cindy and was hurt and disappointed by their response. But even Cally felt like a traitor to the New Bloods, who had once been her closest friends.
"Do you mind if I have a seat?"
Cally looked up from her dark thoughts and was surprised to see a familiar face smiling down at her.
"What are you doing here?" she gasped as Peter slid into the booth.
"Waiting for you to show up."
"Are you stalking me?" Cally asked, not sure whether to be pleased or alarmed. "How did you know I'd be here?"
"I have my ways of getting information," he replied, fl ashing her a look that suggested it wasn't a joke. Cally cocked her head in disbelief. "You've been lounging around expecting me to show up? Why would you do that?"
"So I could thank you for saving my life."
"You did that the other night."
"Would you rather I leave?" he asked.
Cally looked into Peter's eyes and felt a pull of attraction even stronger than the fi rst time their gazes locked. "No," she admitted. It was kind of ironic that he'd shown up just as Simon and Cindy had gone away. "To tell you the truth," she said with a crooked smile, "I'm actually kind of glad to see you."
"I was hoping you'd say that." Peter smiled, taking her hands in his own. "Cally - I have a confession to make. Ever since I met you, I can't get you out of my head. I don't understand what I'm feeling. But do you feel it too?"
"You don't know who I am," Cally whispered, not wanting it to end.
Peter's smile faltered and he quickly looked away, unable to meet her eyes.
"I know more than you think I do. . . . I never told you my full name, Cally. I was afraid to."
"Afraid?" Cally's heart began to beat like a hummingbird caught in a spider's web. "Why would you be afraid of me?"
"Because I thought you would kill me if you knew who I really was."
As she listened to Peter's words, Cally knew she didn't want to hear what he had to say. She glanced about uneasily as she tried to regain her composure and force her lips back into a smile. "Why would I want to kill you? That's crazy talk."
"Cally, my name is Peter Van Helsing."
Cally sat there for a long moment.
"I have to leave," she said numbly, pulling her hands free.
As she began to get up, he grabbed at her, snaring her by the wrist. "Cally, it's not what you think! You're in no danger! I'm not going to hurt you!"
"Leave me alone!" she snapped, jerking free of his grasp. "Stay away from me, Peter! I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to!"
Then she was gone.
* * *
Cally ran down Metropolitan Avenue, angrily knuckling the tears from her eyes. On some unconscious level she must have known he was a Van Helsing right from the start. What really aggravated her was how cliched the whole damn thing was: vampire and vampire hunter falling for each other at fi rst sight. How much lamer could it possibly be? She was just as pathetic as her mother. But at least her mom knew what she was getting into right from the start - even sought it out, in fact.
As far as Cally was concerned, there was nothing sicker and more disgusting than loving someone dedicated to the systematic genocide of your people, except, by all that was unholy, hoping that she might see him again.
Cally's mother was waiting for her just inside the door when she came home.
"There you are, sweetheart! Tomorrow's going to be a very important night for you, so I want you to make sure you get a good day's sleep! That means no staying up late to watch The View, young lady!" Sheila threw her arms around her daughter, hugging her tight. "You won't regret it, I promise! You'll see - it will all be for the better!"
"Yeah. Whatever." Cally sighed as she peeled herself free of her mother's embrace. "I'm going to take a shower before I go to bed."
Cally's room was at the end of the hallway. She slammed the door shut behind her and kicked off her shoes. As if the events of the night weren't already upsetting enough, the fi rst thing she saw was one of the Bathory Academy uniforms draped across the foot of her bed, like the empty skin of a serpent.