Count

24. We Take a Trip to Hell

Carmilla was fixing my hair and makeup for my biggest vampire gathering yet: a gala for the leaders of Feudalia, the European vampire nation.

All titled vampires were invited, but Sergio had said he would gladly miss the gala if it weren't improper to refuse such an esteemed invitation.

"Can I come?" I had asked eagerly. "I'd love to catch a glimpse of vampire royalty."

He hesitated. "I would rather you did not. This is not like the Jacquinots' party or even the Eternal Ball. There will be hardly any humans there, and politics far too subtle for you to understand will permeate every movement."

"Are you saying I'm stupid?" I asked, crossing my arms.

He looked stricken. "That is not what I meant."

Hating how vulnerable he looked, I uncrossed my arms. My indignation melted away. "Hey, it's okay if you don't want me to come. I think we've proven that you know better than me when it comes to vampire stuff, so I'll stay behind if you want me to. But I'm willing to try and fit in with your world if you'll let me."

Sergio pulled me into a hug. "I adore you," he said. "And you surely deserve more cooperation from me if we are to pursue a relationship. I do not wish to hide parts of myself from you any longer."

I nearly squealed with glee.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Sergio asked.

"No way." For good measure, I threw in a joke. "And I promise not to sleep with any more strange vampires."

He had just pulled me in tighter.

Carmilla's voice roused me from my daydream. "Luca and I will be in attendance this evening as well, so I shall get ready after you."

"But you already look incredible," I said.

"This is true, but tonight I intend to look beyond incredible." She clapped her manicured hands twice. "Come! There is much still to be doing. I have finished your hair and makeup, and now it is time for your dress."

I took a long look at my reflection. My eyeliner was sharp and black, and soft blush dusted my cheeks. My hair fell over one shoulder in a cascade of curls as challenging to follow as a Piccasso. Turning from side to side, I admired Carmilla's handiwork. "You are an artist, truly," I told her.

She preened. "I know, darling. Your looks combined with my skill—" she pressed a kiss to my cheek over my shoulder, "when Sergio gets a look at you, he is going to cum where he stands."

"What's this about me coming?" Sergio asked from the doorway.

I whipped around, embarrassed, and Carmilla shrieked. "Out, monsieur! She is not finished!"

Carmilla shut the door on a chuckling Sergio and stuffed me into a floor-length gown of teal taffeta that rustled as I moved like the flow of wind through leaves.

Sergio knocked on the door. "Am I allowed in now?" he asked.

"Oui."

Sergio wore a teal shirt that matched my dress, and I remembered that teal was his favorite color. It looked damn good on him.

I stood to meet him and twirled. "Well? What do you think?"

He rested a hand on my back and leaned in close to my ear. "I think Lady Carmilla was nearly correct. You look ravishing." Before I could respond, he pulled back and offered me his arm, the picture of the perfect gentleman. "Shall we?"

"Let's shall," I said. And away we went.

The moon was full and bright in the sky, casting a soft glow on the courtyard as our limo pulled up.

"This is it?" I asked Sergio. The house was beautiful, certainly, but no mansion. I expected a party for the Feudalian court to be held somewhere more impressive.

"You are only seeing a small portion of the house," Sergio told me, giving me a hand to help me out of the car. "Most of it is underground."

"Ah," I said. That made sense; underground meant no sunlight.

Then my heart nearly stopped. When I saw the splatter of blood in the entryway, I should have run back to the limo and locked myself in. It's okay, I told myself. They're probably serving blood, and someone spilled their drink.

The doorman asked for Sergio's name and checked it off a list.

When we stepped into the foyer, I squeezed Sergio's arm, feeling like a fawn who had wandered into a lion's den.

Hanging from the ceiling was a naked man, dripping blood into a huge glass bowl below. He was dead, that was certain, but it was impossible to tell how he'd died or even how many cuts marred his body from the rivers of red covering him. He could have hung there by his wrists for hours, in agony, as the life force drained out of him.

"What the fuck?" I whispered.

Vampires milled about in ballgowns, oblivious to the tortured body suspended above them. I heard some of them laugh, high and cold, and saw someone refill a glass from the bowl of blood.

Sergio cursed. "Forgive me, Inari. I had no idea..."

It was too dark, and the room smelled a sickening mix of perfume, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. "Let's get out of here," I said. The room, or the party, I didn't know.

Sergio tugged me urgently through the crowd toward a stairwell on the other side of the room. "Don't look," he told me in a smooth, soothing voice. "Keep your eyes forward, darling. We are nearly there."

I tried my best, but the body was difficult to ignore. After what felt like ages, we reached the stairs, and Sergio led me down, down. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were descending into a grave.

Into Hell, I corrected myself upon emerging into the underground ballroom. Red lights tinted every feature in the massive room crimson, and the air felt heavy and oppressive. The vampires in their finery looked demonic, their nails like claws and their eyes glistening.

I gulped. Maybe this whole enterprise had been a terrible, terrible idea. I should have listened to Sergio when he warned me that this would be unlike any vampire gathering I'd attended.

"Do not leave my side," Sergio told me. His grip on my arm was adamant, and I chose to find it comforting rather than distressing.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm not going anywhere."

He placed us with our backs to a wall, giving me the smallest sense of security. Figures approached us and spoke to Sergio, but their voices were a haze. I could focus on nothing but the sound of my heartbeat, imagining it calling to the predators around me: 'Come! Tasty morsel here. Come, come, come!'

Sergio had tutored me in the proper forms of address for different nobility, but he needn't have bothered; nobody spoke to me. My impression of the vampire nobility was a blur of jewels and cravats and lips painted like pomegranates.

An indeterminate length of time later, a fanfare blew, and the room became so quiet that my breathing sounded like a foghorn. Then an ocean of cloth rustled as the ladies fell into deep curtseys and the gentlemen into deep bows. A couple emerged from an archway. Curtsying too, I risked a glance up at the pair: the woman and the man were both darkly gorgeous, with raven hair and gold crowns set with rubies. But the man drew my attention. He radiated power, and the tingling down my spine warned me this person was the most dangerous in the room.

Then he met my eye and smiled.