The Beginning

My life, I have to admit, was going pretty well. My classes were easier, somehow, and I’d regained the strength somewhere to paint. It was as if I’d been carrying around this heavy thing so long and I’d suddenly been able to put it down. I could even pinpoint when the change had happened; a few blurry weeks in early March, and then I’d bloomed with the spring. People around me kept commenting that I seemed to be happier, and I was. Even the blurriness of those weeks was okay. It was as if I were aware that I’d be happier not knowing what had happened.

It’s true. I would have been happier not knowing.

In the summer, after school was over and grades had been submitted, I flung myself full fledged into my art. A friend of mine from university, who I’d only just reconnected with, had offered to share her studio space with me for a little while. It was a lovely place, one of those huge attic rooms, full of windows and sunlight. I couldn’t even bring myself to hate the heat. I loved so much about that place; the whiteness of the canvases, the smell of the paints, even the scritching of the brushes and pencils. Linda and I seemed in total agreement about everything. We even decided to go haves on the hiring for models. Our first model was a gay man, elegant and slender, who flaunted his genitals at us and moped when we asked him to cover it over with a swath of red velvet. We had decided to go Greek as a lark. He received a head dress of plastic ivy and a golden goblet Linda had found somewhere.

“Bacchus!” she giggled. But when she went to work she did it seriously. Her painting was much more splendid than mine was. Even when we painted the same thing our paintings came out so different. Linda claimed she as finding the God in everything, which meant all her paintings were radiant and beautiful, no matter how ridiculous the subject. If that were true I guess I were finding the human in everything. I never forgot to find the cracks in the vases, or the flaws in the plastic flowers. I never missed the wrinkles or the dirt.

The differences, in fact, were so startling( though Linda claimed that she couldn’t tell which was better, which was a lie, since her paintings were far superior to mine) that Linda proposed we do a show and call it human/angel. The idea was that we’d show pairs of paintings, each pair of the same subject but demonstrating our stylistic differences – maybe not an original idea, but it was still interesting to us. Since we’d been working together for a while we already had a number of potential paintings. Linda set it up with a gallery owner friend of hers.

She decided we should do a few more of people to reinforce the title, so we called the model agency and they sent us a young woman with odd white hair. I wondered if Linda told us the agency the title of our upcoming show, because she was as angelic as a human being can get. Her shining white skin glowed in the sunlight and her deep black eyes seemed to look into our souls.

She came in dressed like a goth, in black shorts and black and white striped leggings, clunky black boots and a black (of course) corset. Linda clapped her hands and said ‘perfect’, then directed her to sit languidly in one of our easy chairs.

“How are you going to make her an angel like that?” I asked Linda, laughing.

“Wait and see,” Linda replied, beginning her sketches.


When I paint I tend to break everything down into patches of light. After I’ve fixed on a scene I often don’t see it as a picture at all. So when I’m painting a person I often forget I’m painting a person. But I didn’t forget I was painting Mnemonie. Her pose meant she was looking straight at me with those black eyes, and it was telling when I looked down at my sketch pad only to find that I’d painted all of her but her eyes, leaving gaps in the image where they should be.

Mnemonie left after two hours and Linda came around to see what I’d done.

“That’s wonderful,” she said, referring to the holes. “Her eyes kind of make you feel like that, don’t they?”

In her own drawing, Mnemonie’s skin glowed, shining against the darkness around her. Her eyes had reflections in them, like stars glowing in space.

I found myself thinking of Mnemonie at odd times after that, of her goth clothing and her obviously fake name. I wondered if she dyed her hair, to get it so white, and wore contacts for the black eyes. In short, I found that I was trying to convince myself she was utterly fake.

But there was that about her which wasn’t fake. She had been quiet and thoughtful, in the studio, obviously engrossing herself in deep reflection. It wasn’t easy to model– I’d tried it before myself. The instant you tell your body not to move it wants to, it needs to, it can’t stay still another moment. But Mnemonie hadn’t moved at all, hadn’t even pulsed with breath. She’d been as still as a manikin or a statue.

No, there was something deeper to her than just superficial trends, and whatever it was had captivated me. I found myself thinking of her at odd times, of sketching her profile or mouth or nose. In the studio I kept at my painting, continuing it from photographs when she wasn’t there. I was amazed to see the expression of love that I cast on her fact, painted with oils, although there were still holes where the eyes should have been. Eventually I filled them over, painted her as if she had no eyes at all.


Our show was a success, I think. I actually sold two paintings at the opening, and one of them was the painting of Mnemonie, which didn’t really surprise me, since there was something... arresting about it. The portrait seems to be staring at you even though she doesn’t have any eyes. The offer wasn’t amazingly high, but it was higher than I’d ever expected to get.

And yet I walked home feeling empty, as if something had been drained out of me. My thoughts kept returning to Mnemonie. I had thought she’d come– after all the paintings of her were the best in the show, and she would have her pick of job offers– but she’d never shown up. As far as I knew I’d never run into her again, that is, unless I begged her number from Linda and called her. But I was hardly able to admit my infatuation with her to myself, much less to Linda.

And after that, life somehow spiraled downhill. I kept painting, but my paints seemed repetitive. I could see Mnemonie in every curve of every line, and it only made her miss her more. I longed for her, but in an abstract way, like how one longs for fall, or the sight of mountains. My life became empty again, hollow. I suffered from periods of existential lethargy and then dropped into depression.

It was exactly at that point when I got the call. I had called into school sick that day because I just couldn’t get the energy up to get out of bed. If the phone hadn’t been close enough to reach from my pillow I wouldn’t have answered.

“Miss Luce,” a man’s voice said. “My name is Drake Howard. I purchased your painting, The Souless?”

“Yes?” I replied, surprised.

“I would like to commission you to paint another using the same model. I have already contacted the model and she has agreed.”

“I...”

“I will also provide you with a workspace. The subject of the painting is up to you. If this all sounds amenable to you, I will send you a letter detailing the specifics. Trust me, you will find the compensation well worth the trouble. I understand you are busy, but I am willing to wait while you work around your schedule.”

“I...” how could I do anything but say yes?

I walked into the provided studio a few days later and found it well stocked. Who was this man? I had looked for him on the internet and he seemed to be independently wealthy and a bit of a playboy. Bruce Wayne. I thought ironically to myself. Linda wasn’t surprised by the offer. She’d done a few commissions herself, and said that rich benefactors can be very rewarding. She said it could make my career. Funny, I thought. I hadn’t considered it a career.

When Mnemonie came I ignored the way my heart thumped. I had her change into a black corseted dress, then sat her on the floor, looking as if she were carelessly playing with a lapful of white roses, one red rose a few feet from her. (All this had been suggested by the patron.)

Then I began to sketch.

When the time was over I watched her go with an odd feeling of relief, then looked at the sketches. All without eyes.

I began to live for those sittings, but at least I was living.


Let us make this matter clear once and for all; I have never been attracted to women. If anyone is straight I am. My obsession with Mnemonie couldn’t have disturbed me more. Well, it would have disturbed me, only I wouldn’t admit it. Denial, I think, is the word for it. I was in denial about my addiction to Mnemonie. If I flushed when I thought of her it was because I was hot. If I needed to see her, it was because I was anxious about my painting. If I couldn’t stop staring at her it was because I needed to know her figure to draw her lines. If I admitted I was heartsick over her, I would have had to open a can of worms I didn’t want to open.

So I painted her and listened to her talk, telling me various little, inconsequential things. Her dreams, the things that had happened during the day. She was wonderful at talk of the smallest kind. I never learned anything about her, herself. Mnemonie was a compulsive watcher of people, it seemed. She was full of stories about people she’d seen on subways, in coffee shops. She recited conversations she’d overheard. She had nothing to say about her actual life.

Then, one day, I looked down at the painting and realized it was finished. I told Mnemonie and for the first time she walked over to the other side of the canvas.

She looked at the painting and shivered.

“I don’t like it,” she whispered. “It’s creepy.”

She was talking, of course, of the fact that I had neglected to paint her eyes.

“Didn’t you see the other one I did?” I asked, surprised.

She shook her head. “I never got over there. Was it similar?”

“Just the same,” I said, “except for your positioning and dress. That’s what Mr. Greaves asked for.”

“Well I wouldn’t want it in my house.” She peered closely at it. “What’s that?”

Her proximity was making me dizzy. I wiped my forehead with my hand. “It’s just shadow,” I said.

“No, there’s more.” She traced her finger lightly over the canvas. “It’s like a creature or something, huddling in the corner there.”

I looked closely at the painting. “I didn’t paint that,” I whispered.

“I was afraid of this,” Mnemonie said, scraping her white hair from her face.

“Afraid of what?” I asked, tentatively.

“It’s not what it seems.” She looked around the room. “Let’s go get coffee to celebrate,” she said loudly.

“I... what?”

“C’mon,” she pleaded, pulling my arm. “It’s going to be the last time we see each other. Let’s get coffee. I’ll buy.” Don’t ask, her dark eyes said. Say yes.

I picked up my bag and turned off the lights. “Ok.”

When we had reached the street, Mnemonie took a black handkerchief from her sleeve and, licking it delicately, like a cat, wiped my forehead with it.

“What?” I asked batting her hand away.

“You’ve got paint on your face.” She grabbed my chin and scrubbed harder. “There.”

For a moment we were looking into each other’s eyes, inches apart.

Then she stepped back, breaking the tension, and I wondered why I felt so... lost.

“C’mon.” She turned and walked away.

Therianthropy

The others talked a little while longer, but I was to sleepy to pay attention to what they were saying. I drifted through a discussion of which vampire lords I should make an effort to meet, and finally fell asleep while they were talking about whether and when I should be introduced to the Grand Master herself.

I woke to the delicious smell of cooking. I was still sitting in the armchair I had fallen asleep on, though someone had draped a blanket over me, and I was stiff all over. I pulled the bottle of ibuprofen from my pocket and swallowed three pills, my arms aching the whole time.

At the sound of my groan, a woman emerged from the kitchen. She was short and chubby, with a sweet heart-shaped face and old fashioned dress with a lace apron and a bell like skirt. She was easily the least intimidating person I had ever seen.

“Milady,” she said, curtsying. “I am Jenna. Mr. Cloudbright hired me to be your maid, if you wish.”

My first thought was to wonder what on Earth I’d need a maid for, but then remembered that if I didn’t have one I’d have to cook all my meals and wash all my clothes myself. Also, I considered, there had to be some perks to being a baroness.

I looked closely at Jenna. She didn’t have the pallor of a vampire, but there was something not quite human about her. Her eyes were too big and her mouth too wide for her small face.

“What are you?” I asked her.

“I’m a were-frog, milady,” she said, curtsying again.

A were-frog? “It’s good to meet you,” I told her. “I could use your help.”

“Thank you, milady.” She curtsied a third time.

“Only, do you think you could keep from curtsying so much?” I asked. “You’re kind of making me seasick.”

“Yes, milady,” she said, barely preventing herself from bobbing. “I’ve drawn you a bath. Mr. Cloudbright said you’d probably be quite sore. If you like, I can give you a massage when you’re done.”

“That would be lovely.” I stood up, painfully. Jenna hopped over to my side and tried to help me. “It’s okay.” I pushed her off gently. “I think I can make it.” Jenna led me to the bathroom and began to help undress me. I would have protested, except my muscles were screaming and my garments were a little too complicated for my current state of mind. Once I was naked I slipped into the bath, sighing with relief as the hot water lapped against my skin. “Can you bring me a cup of coffee?” I asked. “Black?”

Jenna scampered off, jumping slightly with every step. I wondered how such an adorable creature had survived in Darkside. She seemed too fragile and vulnerable to live among vampires and more dangerous were-creatures. And to be hired by Cloudbright! Wouldn’t his cat nature get the better of him?

Jenna came back, balancing the tray against her plumb stomach. I sipped at the coffee, then nibbled at the hot muffin she’d brought me.

“Shall I wash your back?” she answered, picking up a washcloth.

“That’s okay,” I replied. “Thank you for the muffin. I’ll call you when I’m done with my bath.” She nodded, forgot to keep from curtsying, and left the room.

I laid back in the bath, pondering the luxury of having someone to bring me breakfast in the bath and, later, to massage my bath. Someone, perhaps, who turned into an amphibian when there was a full moon, but nobody’s perfect. Maybe, I thought, staring up at the ceiling, which was painted with a mural of clouds and birds, this whole Baroness business wasn’t so bad.

I woke up in cold water, and, yelping, jumped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around me. Jenna came to see what the fuss was about and promptly scolded me for falling asleep in the tub. She steered me over to a long bench set against the wall and directed me to lie on it so she could massage my back, during which I fell asleep yet again.

“More coffee, milady?” she asked, waking me up with what I suspected was a bit of humor.

“Please,” I said, pulling myself up and walking to my dressing room.

“Let me help you!” she cried, racing me there. She told me to sit down on the chair inside of it, and assembled an outfit for me, then attempted to dress me in it.

“Are nobility not supposed to be able to do anything themselves?” I asked, taking the shirt she was trying to pull over my head and slipping it on. “I am perfectly able to dress myself.”

She held up a pair of stockings and a garter belt.

“Okay,” I conceded, “I might need some help with those.” We shortly came to an agreement according to what I needed help with and what I didn’t. Once the clothing was donned, she did my hair in an amazingly complex style, then did my makeup with what seemed like an actual paint set. I looked in the mirror, amazed to find that the result was much better than when I had done it myself. I looked unusually put together. I belted my sword on and followed Jenna to the courtyard where she served me my second cup of coffee while I sunned Prominence the sword and paged through the books Rudyard had given me.

The Newcomer’s Guide to Darkside listed all the places, people and tribes of Darkside. I thumbed through it until I came to the section on weres.


Weres, it read, are creatures inflicted with a curse that tears them from the form they are born with and remakes them as the form their spirit takes. This generally happens around the full moon, although weres with more control over their energy can change anytime.

In mythology, the first were is said to have been one of the children of Selene, the moon, and her mortal husband. Although the other children are said to have become the stars, this one, it is told, desired to embrace it’s human half. When it came to Earth it took the form of a human, except for when it’s mother’s pull on it was too strong and it reverted to its other nature.

The myth does not explain why it is that therianthropy, the condition of changing from human to animal and vice-versa, is transmitted through biting, specifically through the mixing of the saliva of the therianthrope and the victim, but this is the most common form of transmission. Blood to blood contact can also cause transmission, although, while approximately 90% of bite victims where blood is drawn are transmuted, only 50% of blood/blood contact causes transmission, while only 2% of sexual contact, in which fluids are exchanged, causes transmission. That said, sexual contact with weres is not suggested, as many of them tend to bite during intercourse.

The were-form of the therianthrope is determined by the natural form of the therianthrope’s spirit. All human beings have a distinct animal (or, in rare cases, vegetable) form, predictable in some part by their human features and their nature, and masters in the art of observation can predict the animal form easily.

Weres change form, unless they are beings of superior control, at the full moon and during periods of severe stress. Even the most strong-willed were is in danger of losing control of his or her form whenever they experience strong surges of emotion, and it is very inconvenient for those weres whose forms have special requirements, for example those who have aquatic or overlarge animal forms.

When in animal form weres are more susceptible to animal instincts, with the result that often mild, pacific humans are transformed to blood-thirsty creatures. Beware of weres who repress their emotions, for they will emerge at full force once the transformation has occurred. For this reason, therianthropes are encouraged to practice therapeutic exercises in order to expose and come to terms with their hidden emotions. (See the author’s book So you’ve been bitten; a guide to living a full life as a were without becoming a monstrous killing machine) Of course, if the were form is a harmless creature, like a butterfly or a minnow, these concerns are less poignant.

Weres traditionally belong to guilds within Darkside. Because they are less susceptible to sunlight, garlic, religious icons, and moving water than vampires, they are often employed as assistants. Many weres live in the world above, appearing in Darkside only occasionally, as their guild requires them to. The guilds are not normally allied with vampire tribes, but enjoy a neutral position in their cities. The two major were guilds of Darkside are Darktooth and Goldenflower. While Darktooth pulls its influence from the danger of it’s members, who are often hired as mercenaries and guards, Goldenflower is much more powerful, as its members hold influential positions in the workforce of Darkside, as well as important positions in the world above. Those who harm members of Goldenflower quickly find themselves ostracized by their tribes.

“Are you a member of Goldenflower?” I asked Jenna, who was sitting near me, quietly sewing one of my garments.

“Yes, milady,” she said.

I turned back to the book.

Weres are traditionally hard to kill, with a lengthened life-span which can be calculated by multiplying the typical human life span by that of the were’s animal form. Therefore, weres may live from the eighty so years of a may-fly were, to the indefinite lifespan of the rare redwood tree-were. Methods for killing a were are purely limited to use of silver. Any weapon made of silver may be used in the traditional manner, but, when no silver is on hand, only an event which entirely decimates the body will be effective, such as burning him to ash, blowing him apart, or cutting him into small pieces and feeding him to animals. Any method which does not similarly damage the vast majority of his body will be ineffective, though it will be painful. Weres have been known to regenerate large parts of their bodies, including their heads. It is not advisable to seriously injure a were but not kill him entirely; the were will almost always precede to hunt you down and murder your in the most painful way possible.

It amused me to think of Rudyard spending time at his desk coming up with ways to kills weres. He was such a mild mannered man, soft spoken and seemingly harmless. The passage also reminded me of something else; I turned to my sword, which was lying on a blanket in the sunlight.

“Prominence,” I said, “you said you were made of radiance, but Cloudbright said you were made of silver.”

“I’m made of an alloy of radiance and silver,” the sword replied. “Radiance was too precious for Hephaestus to make an entire sword out of it.”

“How did he get it from the sun?” I asked.

“Hephaestus built the Helios’ chariot, the one that contained the sun. In return, Helios gave him a small quantity of radiance, which he incorporated into some of his objects, and a large portion of which he mixed with the silver of which it made me. He put tiny pieces in the heads of the men he made of metal, that they might come alive to assist him.”

“So it is the radiance that makes you sentient?” I asked.

“Partly, with his godly powers. And the radiance also makes me hard; silver is a very weak metal for making weapons with.”

“Do you wish you had been made into a robot instead of a sword?” I asked.

“I do not know,” the sword replied. “As a robot I probably would have fallen to pieces eventually, but I would have had a larger role to play in my own life. As a sword I am subject to my wielder’s whims and cannot choose much of anything in my life, although only a powerful swordsman could wield me against my will. I have turned back on many a weak wielder who sought to use me for evil purposes.

“In the end,” it continued thoughtfully, “I wonder how much power any has over their own lives. You, I think, are as much a puppet as I have ever been.”

“You certainly pulled my strings yesterday,” I said, remembering how it had been the sword’s advice which had given me the upper hand in the council meeting of vampires.

“But not against your will,” the sword countered. “I acted only thinking to help you. I will do nothing to enslave you to a future you do not wish. If you want to leave this place I will help you do so, to the best of my ability. You are not a creature of the darkness. This underground world is not for you. That hole up there is only a reminder of the world you belong to. I fear that down here, in the darkness, your light will fade and die, and you will turn, eventually, into a creature you are not. Not many are born evil, child, but many become it.”

“You are as much a creature of the light as I,” I countered. “You come from the sun!”

“Ah, but I contain the sun as well. And I am eternal. Only the fires from which I was forged, the hearth of Mount Aetna, can destroy me.”

“Ah,” I said. “Like Sauron’s ring.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“It’s a book; these hobbits have to go to this volcano to destroy a ring because it could only be destroyed where it was forged.”

“It is similar, then, I suppose,” the sword conceded. “What are hobbits?”

“Little people, like dwarves, only different somehow. Are there dwarves?”

“All things people have dreamed of have lived in one way or another,” the sword said, after a pause. “It is similar to what I told you about truth yesterday. From some view points dwarves do not exist and have never existed. And from some viewpoints they do.”

I still hadn’t come to terms with this theory. I couldn’t really comprehend the idea that truth is flexible. “Will I come across them?” I asked.

“Dwarves and vampires rarely mix,” the sword said. “Although there have been a few dwarven vampires. But now, that the Angel of Truth is the Grand Master I don’t know what is happening. She has an odd following.”

“Who is the Angel of Truth?” I asked.

“She’s... a kind of goddess, I guess. An anthropomorphization, you would say, of a natural law. She doesn’t guard the truth, or tell the truth, she is the truth.”

“But you told me that truth changed with your perspective.”

“And so does Althea. From your point of view she is just truth, not a person at all. To some people she’s an angel, to others a goddess, to others a natural force. To herself... that’s probably the most interesting view of all. She’s eternal, though, older than the gods themselves, older than the Earth, older than anything but time. But she’s young as well. She doesn’t age, mentally. She doesn’t have wisdom as you would think of it.”

“Rudyard said she got mad and killed the Master of the Vampires.”

“That’s probably an exaggeration,” the sword said. “Althea tends not to kill people as much as make them mythical.”

“She can make people mythical?”

“That’s what happened to the Gods,” the sword explained.

“Did they piss her off?”

“People stopped believing in them and they got angry and went to Althea and demanded that she make them ‘true gods’ and she closed her eyes and they became stories instead.”

“But you didn’t become a mythological character.”

“That’s because I’m not a god, so she didn’t change me.”

“So why doesn’t she make herself not the master vampire?”

“I don’t know,” the sword admitted. “Maybe it doesn’t work that day.”

“Nothing here works the way it’s supposed to,” I complained. “What do you think actually happened to the old Master Vampire?”

“Her temple is heavily guarded. He probably just got caught by a trap.”

“And that made her the Master Vampire? That’s kind of round about.”

“The same way you became Baroness. If a vampire aristocrat managed to fall off a mountain it would give the mountain the title. I’m actually a Duke.”

“You are?”

The sword chuckled. “Yeah, but when swords and mountains are given titles they just change the title.”

“I think you’d make a pretty good vampire lord,” I said.

“I don’t fulfill the physical requirements?”

“There are physical requirements?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.

“Didn’t you know?” the sword asked. “You have to be able to lead the vampire hunt.”

“I what!” I almost fell off my chair and Jenna looked up at me alarmed.

The sword laughed so hard he might have suffocated himself, had he lungs. As it was, it took a few moments before he stopped laughing.

“I take it you were joking,” I said finally.

“Hey,” the sword said. “Someone wrote gullible on the ceiling.”

“I’d look,” I replied dryly, “only there is no ceiling.”

“The physical requirement,” the sword told me, soberly, “is that you have to be able to die.”

Practicing sword fighting was even more brutal than I’d imagined. Not that I got to any actual swordfighting. First I had to practice all the basic moves without my sword, because Aliana was afraid I’d hurt myself. Even if I had a magical healing sword, she said, incurring damage wasn’t suggested. So she had found me a wooden stick and, to be honest, I did hit myself a few times with it. I had a feeling that the next time we practiced she would have come up with a practice stick wrapped in cloth.

I was just as bad at sword fighting as anyone, knowing me, might have guessed. But Aliana seemed to have infinite patience.

“We’re going to keep practicing until you get it right,” she told me, defeating my usual strategy of doing things I didn’t like so badly people would give up on me. And we did, practicing the same stupid move again and again until I felt like I could do it in my sleep and (even then I wouldn’t get it right.) It wasn’t just that though. She made me do push-ups and crunches and all sorts of other horrible exercises as well. I was hoping there would be inspiring music and a short montage later I would be a swordswoman to rival Xena, but the montage was slow in coming, perhaps because magic is always quick to screw you over and slow to help you out.

An eternity later Aliana told me I was done for the day and I collapsed onto one of the armchairs in the living room, where Rudyard was happily chatting with the sword.

“Good job!” Rudyard said. “You’ll be capable in no time.”

“If I don’t die first,” I replied. “If my enemies don’t get me, Aliana will.” I got up and began to stagger across the room. “Goodnight.

“Goodnight!?” Rudyard exclaimed. “You’re not going to bed?”

“I’m wiped,” I replied.

“There’s a council meeting in half an hour! You can’t go to sleep.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I... what?” he gaped.

“I mean, you’re joking. There is no way I’m going to make it through a meeting.”

“Take a bath and I’ll make you coffee and something you eat. You’ll see, you’ll revive in no time. Oh, yeah...” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial. “Take one of these pills. It should help with the pain.”

I looked at the bottle. “Some magic potion?” I asked.

“It’s some kind of human medication,” he explained. “I-bupro? Something like that.”


“Ibuprofen?”

“Yeah. That’s it. These modern medicines are so amazing, aren’t they.”

“Yeah.” I took the bottle and hobbled to the bathroom.

If it hadn’t been for the smell of coffee and dinner I’m not sure I would have ever gotten out of the bath. It was the size of a small swimming pool and full of deliciously scented hot water. The old baron sure knew how to live, I thought, swimming around in it. I could feel my muscles relaxing. Eventually, though, the hunger got to be too much for me and I climbed out, drying myself off with a wonderfully fluffy towel, and squeezing into a costume just as lascivious as the last. I braided my hair and pinned it up, sticking the hair stick that Cloudbright had said contained a knife into the center of it. I even found some kohl and lipstick in the dressingroom and painted my face until I was convinced that I could have been the goddess of a goth club, should I have ever had that peculiar desire.

Rudyard was bent over his notebook, scribbling away when I walked in. A familiar blush crept over his cheeks. “Dinner is on the table,” he said, quickly looking down. There was one place set at the table, which could have comfortably seated twelve. The placemat sat with it’s shining dishes, lonely, before my high backed chair, a small covered dish, and coffee pot.

“Aren’t you eating?” I asked him.

“It isn’t proper for the staff to eat with the...”

“I don’t care, Rudyard,” I interrupted. “About what’s proper if I have to eat alone for the rest of my indeterminately long life.”

“I already ate,” he replied.

“You can sit with me at least. There’s nothing more lonely than eating alone.”

I waited until he had sat down before opening the covered dish and heaping my plate with spagetti.

“Are you lonely?” he asked surprised.

“Not lonely,” I said, between bites. “Not yet, anyways. But the thought of living here for the rest of my life, not seeing my friends or family again...” my nose began to itch, the way it did before I cried. I opened my eyes really wide so tears wouldn’t be able to collect at the corners of them. “And never being able to have a relationship again. The idea is lonely.” I took a piece of bread from a basket and chewed on it for a minute.

“The thing is,” I continued, “I’ve been too scared and nervous and anxious and tired too be lonely. But I think I will be, once the shock wears off.”

“I think I understand,” he said, taking a piece of bread and chewing on it idly. “I should have died hundreds of years ago. All my family, my childhood friends... everyone has passed on long ago. My entry into this world wasn’t as sudden as yours was, but it still wasn’t very... comfortable. You’ll find, once you get old enough, that the years seem to pass by you without consequence. You spend so much time lonely that you forget it’s anything special. One of the problems with Darkside is that it isn’t easy to make friends who you can trust not to betray you. Even the people you trust don’t always tend to be people you like.”

“Why did you come here?” I asked, curiously.

“The tale is too long to tell now, but let me say that, like you, it wasn’t entirely of my own volition. I did it to save the life of someone I loved. The irony is that she’s still dead and I’m stuck here... No, I don’t mean that. I don’t mind my life here. I’ve created a niche for myself, it’s fascinating at times... but it does sometimes seem like something is missing, and when you mention loneliness I can’t help but think that that’s what it is.”

“What about the young woman you mentioned earlier, the one who has your alibi?” I asked.

Rudyard blushed again. “It’s not what you obviously think it is,” he said. “The personal part of the personal problem is all on her side she needs my academic knowledge to help her with her problem. That’s all. She’s a vampire. Not someone I’d...” he blushed again.

“In all the time you’ve been here, you’ve never had a lover?”

“I’ve remained faithful to the woman I’m promised to,” he replied, stiffly. “In my day we didn’t take sexuality as lightly as you young people do now.”

“Okay, grandpa,” I snorted. It was funny that Rudyard spoke as if he were ancient because he didn’t look as if he were more than twenty-five, thin and bookish, with brown curls that almost touched his neck, and grayish blue eyes, wire-frame spectacles perched his nose.

“Drink up your coffee,” he ordered. “The council is coming.” He began to clear away my dishes, and his alarm was such that I didn’t protest, even though I wasn’t quite finished. I chugged my coffee, then poured and drank another cup before allowing him to pry it from my fingers.

A heavy knock sounded on the door and Aliana opened it.

A parade of elaborately dressed vampires swept in. I knew they were vampires, because despite their haughty poise and elegant dress, their skin was gray and dead looking, their expressions haggard. It hit me, suddenly, that I was surrounded by dead things, animated corpses without heartbeats or breath or anything that makes living things living things. It hit me too, amazingly for the first time, that I was surrounded by creatures that considered me food.

Below my right hand my sword began vibrating slightly, somehow comfortingly. I touched the hilt and was surprised to find it warm.

“Steady,” the sword whispered to me, and somehow I knew I was the only one who could hear it. “Act as composed as you can. They can’t read your mind. Unless you show your fear they won’t be able to tell. Remember that you’re more powerful than they are. Look each one in the eye as they are introduced and nod. If you can, imagine you’re pretending to be a queen. Picture yourself the Queen, nodding and smiling to everyone. You’re infinitely high above them, deigning to meet them."

The vampires took places around the table, standing beside their chairs, looking at me curiously, grinning with their sharp teeth, but I tried to follow the sword’s advice, meeting their gazes with a smile of my own. At the end of the crowd Cloudbright came in, taking the chair at my left.

“Stand” the sword said, so I stood, and immediately, all the people in the room bowed or curtsied to me, even Rudyard and Aliana, who were siting in the corner. One by one, Cloudbright introduced each of the vampires to me, and one by one I stared them down smiling, thinking, absurdly, of the Wild Things book, where Max tames the wild things with his stare.

Finally, the introductions were over and the sword told me to sit, so I sat, all the vampires following a few seconds later.

I followed the sword’s instructions all through the meeting, saying the things he told me to say, smiling and frowning as he told me to. Cloudbright seemed to make most of the decisions, looking at me as he did so, for my approval or disapproval. On one or two points, following the sword’s advice, I did disapprove, an action which, the sword told me, would give me the appearance of thinking for myself. Finally the meeting was over. I walked to the door and said my goodbyes to each of the vampire in turn, making some small comment about something they had said during the meeting, if they had said anything. I caught not a few of the males and some of the females trying to take a peak down my corset and wondered if the costume did, in fact, give me the authority the others had thought it would convey, or if it merely made me look like a fetish-whore.

Finally they were all gone. I collapsed in an armchair.

“Can I go to bed now?” I whined.

Rudyard laughed. “You were spectacular, lady!” he said. “I had no idea you had it in you.”

“I didn’t,” I admitted. “It was all the sword. It told me what to do.”

Cloudbright gaped at me for a moment before regaining his composure and beginning to laugh with Rudyard.

“The sword!” he gasped. “It blew my mind! I couldn’t figure out how under Earth you acted so perfectly! I thought you were possessed. I thought the sword would make a decent weapon; I had no idea it would be the perfect councilor. Imagine!” he was laughing so hard he had to spit the words out. “They came in there thinking they would find a quivering human they could eat alive and they found her! Lady, I have never seen anyone face ten vampire lords and look so non-plussed. Even Lord Ask would have quivered when they turned those black eyes on you. Follow my advice, lady, and never lose that sword.” The were-cat sobered up a little, staring at the sword. “But how did the sword....”

“I was forged of sun radiance by the God Hephaestus himself, for the great warrior Anynon, in order that he might destroy the monsters who threatened Olympus itself!” the sword bellowed in a great voice. “Anynon swung me and smote them all in one great strike and was carried to Olympus in the sun’s own chariot. He was later kicked out by trying to sleep with Aphrodite,” the sword continued in a less grand voice. “But I have still been forged by a God. Giving counsel to a scared girl is hardly stretching my abilities.”

“If you are so great, why aren’t you doing great deeds?” Cloudbright answered, awed by the sword, which was now gleaming brightly.

“This one held me up to the sun, and apologized when she almost dropped me. The great heros all forgot that the greatest of deeds is to help those in need. That is why they all failed in the end. And I sense a story in this. I have a feeling that this will become much more than a mere vampire court. I think we will all, before this ends, know what it is like to be a hero.”

And with that the sword fell quiet and would not answer their questions anymore.

Sex ed in the underworld

Rudyard smiled approvingly at Aliana. “You should always listen to her, Lady,” he said. “She’s a Guardian Vampire. They don’t usually say much, unless they think it’s important.”

“Don’t usually say much,” Prominence interjected. “I knew one once who wouldn’t stop talking. I finally had to kill him to shut him up?”

“Do you normally kill people you don’t like?” I asked nervously.

“Only Dark creatures,” it reassured me. “It’s not like you need any help finding yourself in danger.”

“Speaking of danger,” I said, looking around. “You all talk as if I’m on the verge of death, and yet there have been no attacks on my life, as of yet.”

“That you know of,” Rudyard said cheerfully. “You have chosen your friends wisely. There have been at least five I have heard of. One I foiled myself,” he added proudly.

Aliana nodded. “I have already had to kill four people in your service, lady. It has been a good day for my sword.”

“When did these attacks happen?” I asked, my mouth dry.

“While you were unconscious,” the sword said.

“You didn’t take care of any of them?” I asked nervously, afraid the sword might be capable of wielding itself.

“Sadly, no,” the sword sighed. “I heard them happen, though. Your fortress is quite secure. Your predecessor acquired an impressive battery of shielding spells.”

“Too bad it didn’t work.”

“We believe that he might have been drunk when he attacked you,” Rudyard said. “He shouldn’t have been that stupid. Someone he trusted must have slipped some alcohol into his drink...”

“So there is a traitor you don’t know about?” I asked.

“Don’t be concerned,” Aliana said, narrowing her eyes. “I will find and punish whoever it was.”

“Aliana is the only one not suspect,” Rudyard explained. “Guardian Vampires don’t do things like that. I’m not suspect either; I have an alibi.” He reddened.

Aliana nodded. “I have asked the young lady in question and she verifies your story. Although what you were doing with her in the first place, I can’t imagine.”

Rudyard reddened even further. “It was in a purely medical context,” he said.

Aliana narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t realize you served a medical function. That will be useful knowledge.”

“A very limited function,” Rudyard corrected, staring at the carpet.

I covered my mouth with my hand so I wouldn’t laugh.

“It will be dark soon,” Aliana observed, lifting her dark eyes to the windowss, where the light was fading. “And we can begin practice.”

“Do I really need to learn swordfighting?” I whined. “Can’t the sword protect me?”

“I may be magic,” the sword said, “but I am not that magic.”

“This is going to be painful, isn’t it?” I muttered.

“Death would be more painful,” Aliana said.

“Should I change?”

“If those are the clothes you are going to be wearing, those are the clothes you should become used to fighting in.”

I looked down at my outfit. “I don’t really like these clothes, but Cloudbright said I’d get more respect if I wore them.

Rudyard chuckled.

“What?”

“Cloudbright said that?” he laughed a little more. “My lady, you can trust Cloudbright with almost anything, as long as you treat him well. But don’t trust him with this, please. You do cut an imposing figure, it’s true, and I’m sure people will treat you wonderfully if you wear it, but... let’s just say that Cloudbright’s hormones might have had a little influence in this matter.”

“He told me I should wear these clothes so he could ogle me!?” I spluttered.

“You do look pretty hot though,” the sword commented. “I think you should stick with it. You win more flies with honey, after all, and there will be quite a few who will decide to follow you once they see you. Let’s face it; vampires are pretty shallow, and the lady vampires... well, let’s just say they’re not all that. Begging your pardon, Guardian.”

“But I thought that vampires were supposed to be the ultimate seducers,” I said.


“It’s all glamour,” Rudyard explained. “Underneath they’re... well, corpses. They’re cold and clammy and their skin has the most unpleasant texture. The glamour doesn’t work on other vampires. And, part of their lust for you will be the fact that you’re food. Untouchable food, of course, unless some of them get a hankering to share the same fate as Lord Ask. By the way, I took the liberty of procuring you a coffeemaker, grinder and quite a supply of beans. You’ll want to continue your coffee consumption. It’s a useful precaution, just in case someone get’s inside Aliana’s guard.”

“Will they be able to use their glamour on me?” I asked.

“I shouldn’t think so. One of the things you’ve probably inherited from Lord Ask would be protection from that. How did the vampire who came to get you look?”

“Like a potato.” I shuttered.

Rudyard laughed. “I’ve always thought so too. If her glamour had worked on you she’d probably have looked like a movie star to you. Anyways, my point is, the clothes aren’t necessary, but they’ll be an asset. And... don’t fault Cloudbright for thinking with his... reproductive organs. Weres are often like that. Just try to avoid copulating with him, because he’ll have an urge to bite you... most mammals do, actually, and, let’s say, you don’t want to add that to your other problems.”

His face was flaming red. I could tell that the subject really embarrassed him (those Victorian sensibilities) but he had told me anyways because he had thought it important. “What would happen if I got bitten?” I had to ask.

The sword snorted. “You’ll turn into a were-creature,” it replied. “Not necessarily a were-cat, though. You’ll turn into whatever your totem animal is.”

“My totem animal?” I asked, confused.

“Ever noticed how people kind of resemble animals?” Rudyard explained. “You see someone and can’t help thinking that they look, just a little bit like a rabbit? Everyone has some type of animal they have affinity with. Mine is a mongoose. Yours...” he tilted his head to the side and squinted.

“Salmon,” the sword said. “I can feel it in her mind.”

“You must be joking,” I said. “If I got bitten by a were I would turn into a salmon?”

“See?” the sword asked. “You don’t want that to happen. For one thing, you’d drown if you weren’t near water when a full moon happened. For another thing, you’d constantly have urges to swim upstream.”

“It could be worse,” Rudyard said. “I knew a were-tree. That was inconvenient.”

“Now I know you’re putting me on,” I said. “How could someone’s totem animal be a tree?”

“It’s rare,” Rudyard admitted. “It’s because he was a Buddhist monk, I think. Actually, his monkness made it better than it sounds. Even as a tree he could float through the air. An amazing sight, all those roots hovering over you...”

“This world gets wackier and wackier,” I sighed. “Is there anyone else I should beware of having sex with.”

“Actually,” Rudyard said, thoughtfully, “you probably shouldn’t have sex with anyone. And if you feel tempted, read up on them first in the book I gave you. Remember that as inconvenient as pregnancy is when you’re both human, it’s significantly more inconvenient when your partner isn’t.”

“Well, I’m glad we had this talk,” I said, somewhat sarcastically. “I’ll certainly be careful who I shag in the future. Why, exactly, did we have this talk?”

“We were discussing your wardrobe,” Aliana said. “If you have come to a conclusion, we could start our practice...”

I looked outside and was surprised to discover it was almost completely dark.

“You think my clothes are a good idea?” I asked Rudyard, “And not just because you like looking at me in them?”

He blushed and nodded.

“Well, I guess I’m going to have to learn to fight without unintentionally flashing my breasts at everyone.”

“Actually,” the sword interjected, “that might be a useful strategy.”

The talking sword

{Author's note: Sorry I haven't updated in half a year. I honestly didn't think anyone read this. (I guess no one reads it now) Also, my house burned down and there were all sorts of complications in my life and then I forgot. But now I'm going to try to post regularly. (Of course, the more comments I get the more regularly I will post.) Until, that is,some other major disaster happens in my life.}

It took me three seconds to figure out where I was when I woke up and thirty more seconds to pull myself together after that. I dragged myself up from the black curtained bed and pulled on another ridiculously tight black outfit (which looked as if I’d shoplifted it out of a r-rated version of Hot Topic), and belted my sword around my waist. Sunlight was streaming through from the courtyard through the red curtains that surrounded it, and I opened one of the big glass doors and walked into the light.

It felt like more than just heat and light; it felt like a blessing. I never believed in God, but if there were vampires and all sorts of things like that, it wouldn’t be fair if there wasn’t one, just to balance things out. Then again, if there were a God, why would it let vampires run around? I let the question go– theistic metaphysics isn’t really my thing– and, closing my eyes, turned my face to the sun. I felt strong, full of life. Strange; when did I become photosynthetic? I wondered. Then I felt a tingling at my hip. I looked down at the sword. It was shining much too brightly for a mere reflection. I unsheathed it so the light could fall directly on the raw metal. It vibrated in my hands, almost like a purr. Of course a vampire baroness would have a sword for a pet. I thought, sarcastically. I patted the sword absently. The courtyard was nice, although the patches of earth were bare. I briefly fantasized about growing a garden. Not many vampires would come to get me when I was gardening. Of course, I was popping out of my corset enough without bending over... I looked down at my breasts to see if there was any nippilage showing and almost dropped the sword.

“Sorry!” I said, cutting myself as I grabbed onto it.

“That’s okay,” the sword replied. “Sorry about that.” The cuts on my hand began to heal.

My mind would have been blown away by the fact that my sword talked if I hadn’t just become a vampire baroness and moved to an undead haunted suburb called Darkside. Plus, when you think about it, talking swords are pretty cliche.

“You can heal things?” I asked.

“Only cuts I’ve made myself,” the sword admitted. “It’s useful when your owners are clumsy.”

I couldn’t think of anything to reply to that– I am pretty clumsy– so I asked if the sword wanted to bask in the sun for a while.

“Better not, it’s not safe for you to wander around without me. Where are you going anyways?”

“I’m hoping I’ll be able to find some food somewhere around here.”

“Another human came in a little while ago,” the sword replied. “He’s got muffins and coffee and a bag of groceries. He’s watching you through the window.”

“How did you know that?” I asked, a little amazed.

“What good would I be if I didn’t have amazing sensory capabilities?”

“You’re a magical sword,” I replied. “That sounds pretty useful to me. Do you mind if I sheathe you?”

“Nah, go ahead. Sheathing won’t hurt me. It’s actually a very comfortable sheathe. Like a sleeping bag.”

Great I thought. Not only do I have a talking magical sword, but it’s a talkative one as well. But I was only complaining. The truth was that it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if it was only a sword. (Wow. How pathetic is that?)

I returned to the house, blinking in the sudden dark.

Rudyard Greeble sitting was there looking very proper and English. He smiled at me and asked if I didn’t mind that he’d come over.

“No, it’s okay. Thanks for the food. Um, how did you get in?”

“Aliana let me in.”

Aliana? Then I remembered; the vampire bodyguard. I looked around and barely made her out, sitting stiffly in the darkest corner of the living room. It probably wasn’t a good idea, I reflected, to trust a complete stranger, but she hadn’t murdered me in my sleep– none of them had– and they’d had ample opportunity. I had to trust someone after all; why not the person who’d brought me coffee and his friends.

“How did you know about the food, Lady?” Rudyard asked, offering me a styrofoam cup and a muffin.

“My sword told me,” I explained.

Rudyard didn’t even blink at that. “The famed sword of the Sunlight Slayer,” he mused. “I’m sorry, good sword, but I never learned your name. You were fast asleep when I found you.”

“The baroness woke me up with sunlight,” the sword replied. “My name is Prominence.”

“Sunlight Slayer?” I asked. “Do I want to know?”

“He was a minor vampire slayer with delusions of grandeur,” the sword explained. “He stole me from the tomb of my last master, Reed the Exorcist. Now he was a class act. Took down four major vampire clans singlehandedly before finally being conquered by the Grand Master.”

“Which Grand Master was that?” Rudyard asked, pulling out a notebook.

“Volxander,” the sword said. “That was during the Necro-revolution. He wouldn’t have been able to take down the clans otherwise.”

“Ah. I always wondered about Reed the Exorcist. If you wouldn’t mind, can I ask who made you? And what of? It would be very useful in my studies.” Rudyard leaned over, looking intently at the sword, ignoring the fact that it was slung on my hip.

“I would go into it in detail,” the sword replied, “only I’m afraid the lady here would become quite bored and confused. Although it would benefit her to learn something of our history, seeing as she has murdered her way into the aristocracy.”

“Murdered!” I exclaimed.

“Man-slaughtered, then,” the sword corrected.

“I would love to learn all about it,” I replied. “Only I have to convince myself it’s real first.”

“I’m not sure that will be hard,” the sword predicted darkly. “The difficulty is staying alive that long.”

“I love how optimistic people are at my survival,” I muttered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rudyard said. “You’ll enjoy your life more if you save the worrying until after you’re dead.”

“What about you?” I asked. “How did you survive this long?”

He shrugged. “I’m just useful to have around. Plus who ever kills me will wish they killed themself instead.”

“How’s that?”

“I have... you may call it a curse upon me. If someone kills me they will suffer a million years without dying.”

“Are you a wizard or something?”

Rudyard chuckled. “Oh, no,” he replied. “I’m a chemist. But I once did a favor for the Grand Master and he gave me this curse as a token of his esteem. Unfortunately, he later had cause to regret it, but that’s not my fault.”

“Who is the Grand Master?” I asked.

“You would call her the king of the vampires. She’s the most powerful, most, um, badass, of all the vampires. And one of the oldest, actually.”

“But you just called her a him,” I pointed out.

“The Grand Master who gave me the curse was the old one,” Rudyard explained. “I’m afraid we’re going through them at quite a fast rate at the moment.”

“Who is the Grand Master at the moment, if I may inquire?” I jumped; I had forgotten I was wearing a talking sword at my waist.

“Lady Althea,” Rudyard said.

The sword made a whistling sound. I wondered how it managed to whistle, since it didn’t have a mouth. Curious that I hadn’t had the same question about it talking. “The Angel of Truth?” the sword continued. “I never would have thought that she’d emerge from her crypt.”

“It’s the old Grand Master’s fault,” Rudyard explained. “Lord Racquel. He stole the cup of truth from her temple and she was so vexed she went ahead and killed him without stopping to think of the consequences. Now, of course, she’s stuck with the mastership.”

“Whoa,” I said. “The Angel of Truth? The Cup of Truth? This is starting to sound like an Indiana Jones flick.”

“I don’t know of what you speak,” the sword said. “If you want it can be explained to you, but it will take quite a long time. You will not disbelieve me when I tell you that our history goes back ten thousand years.”

“Ten thousand years?” I choked.

“Immortals, by their very nature, are much better at keeping track of things that humans are,” the sword continued. “I myself can remember back about three thousand years, though, admittedly, I have been asleep for a good portion of it.”

“You can’t be that old,” I said. “They didn’t know how to forge steel that long ago.”

“I am not made of steel,” Prominence said, with great dignity. “I am forged of radiance, the metal of the sun, by the god Hephaestus himself.”

“The sun isn’t made of metal,” I said. “It’s made of hydrogen and helium.” I was proud of my very small amount of astronomical knowledge.

The sword laughed, a rather nasty sound, almost like metal being ground against glass. “Next you’re going to tell me that space isn’t composed of ether, and everything is not made out of the four elements.”

“It’s not,” I told it. “Space is a vacuum, with nothing in it, and everything is made out of atoms, electrons and protons.”

“They have quite a few newfangled ideas these days,” Rudyard told the sword. “I suppose vampires also do not exist, Lady?” he said to me.

“They don’t! That is, they didn’t.” I stopped, confused.

“It’s quite simple,” Rudyard explained, smiling. “Both are true. Vampires do and do not exist. The sun is both made solely out of hydrogen and helium and is also made out of other things, including the metal radiance. There are more than one correct views of the world, you’ll find. It is as if you had spent your whole life sitting and looking through a window in one particular direction, and then one day were brought to a new window and all the things you had been looking at before looked completely different when looked on from another direction. Like a sculpture that looks like a pillar from one side and a tree from another. Both views are correct, though they are completely different.”

“No!” I exclaimed. “It isn’t similar! Reality isn’t like a sculpture you can look at from different angles! It doesn’t change! It’s one thing or another. The sun can’t be both things.”

“That’s a very human view,” said Aliana, sitting in a corner. “You won’t survive here long unless you begin to think like us. To the people of Darkside, reality is a very flexible thing indeed.”

On the edges

Cloudbright spent hours explaining the intricacies of the position to me. Midoria wasn’t a place as much as a tribe... or a gang; the people of Darkside and other underground communities traditionally banded together into tribes for protection. The deal was if you messed with a Midorian you messed with all Midorians. Cloudbright showed me the listing of members, the deals Midoria had with other tribes. Lord Ask had written everything down in his meticulous handwriting.

“He was preparing for his successor,” Cloudbright told me. “When he gained the Baronet, also by accident, actually, he didn’t have any clues showing him what to do, so he wanted to help the next unfortunate. He brought the tribe across from Britain two hundred years ago and they were the first ones to start living under this city. Now the Astorians are here too– that’s who the snakes belong to– and they want the territory the Midorians built. So Lord Ask– you– and Lord Gloom are constantly fighting for supremacy.”

“Gods, I’ve walked into the middle of a gang war?”

“Technically, we’re at peace, but be rest assured that Lord Gloom will try to take advantage of your weakness.”

“Why did the potato bring me here? Was she planning on double crossing me?”

“The snakes are... trouble makers. For everyone, really. Lord Gloom keeps them in check. I think they just wanted power over you so they could join Midoria and be safe from Gloom’s influence. Now, the first thing you’re going to need to do is to address the Midorians so they’ll know you’re not soft.”

I dropped onto a sofa. “I am soft,” I complained.

“Then you’re going to have to pretend not to be soft.” He sat down beside me. “Listen, milady, I can help you up to a certain point, but you’re going to have to do the rest. You’re going to have to rise to the occasion. Midoria needs a strong leader, and I think it could do worse than you.”

“Why do you think that? You don’t even know me.”

“I have a feeling about it. Cats have very good instincts, believe me. There are a few people I think you should meet. If you don’t mind, I’ll call them and invite them over.” He stood up.

“Do it,” I said.

“Meanwhile, if you look in the blue room you might find a wardrobe more... fitting.”

More tight-fitting he should have said. Most of the clothes seemed to be made of pleather or velvet. But once I had dressed, I did feel more... vampire lord-ish. Or perhaps just vamp. A corset hiked my breasts up while squeezing my stomach, a velvet skirt spilling out beneath it. I draped a cloak across my shoulders, admiring my refection in the mirror. Some black makeup and I’d be the perfect goth queen. I found some eyeliner in the bag I’d taken with me and, well, lined my eyes with it.

The cat nodded when I re-entered the room. “Those clothes belonged to Lord Ask’s daughter.” He told me.

“How could Lord Ask have a daughter, if he was a vampire?” I asked.

“She was, ah, a blood-daughter,” Cloudbright explained. “The person who makes you... what you are... is often considered your parent.”

“Your new parents are the people who killed you?”

“In a way, yes. It is rather messed up, perhaps. But when you’re new you need someone to show you the ropes, so to speak. A mentor.”

“Do all vampires dress like this?” I asked. Running my hands down the corset.

“Many do. Of course, you’re of a high position, so it’s important for you to.” He walked over to a bookcase and, reaching his hand behind a row of books, opened it so it swung out like a door. Behind it shining weapons lay in rows, swords, daggers, bows and crossbows, as well as scary sharp things I couldn’t identify, curves of glimmering blades that reminded me faintly of Klingons.

Cloudbright took out a thin, long object. “Yana used to stick this in her hair.” He twisted it and a bright blade slid out of the ornamental sheath. “In case of emergencies”.

“What happened to Yana?” I asked.

“Dolores caught her and exposed her to the sunlight,” the cat said, taking a long, sheathed, dagger, and giving it to me. “Tie this at your belt,” he instructed, showing me the loop for it.

“I don’t know how to use a weapon,” I told him.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll learn. Now this one,” he gestured to a sword hung high on the wall, “you’ll have to take down yourself. It’s made of silver– well a silver alloy– and not many of us here would willingly touch it.”

I reached up to the long sword.

“How did it get here then?” I asked, unhooking it from the wall, and taking it down.

“A vampire hunter,” Cloudbright explained. “Lord Ask killed him. We had to get a human to put it up there.”

“Are there other humans?” I asked.

“A few. Ones with special... things... about them. One of them is coming here.”

I unsheathed the sword. Bright light spilled across the room.

“It’s a sun-sword,” the cat whispered. “Fatal to any vampire allergic to the sun. You don’t even need to stake them; just a small cut and they’ll burn to death. This is your power. Even the light of it will hurt a vampire. None will threaten you with that in your hand. Never take your hands off it. Sleep with it, bathe with it.” The doorbell rang. “Never give it away.”

The cat pressed a button beside the door and a window opened in it showing the people there. Quickly he undid the locks, opening the portal, and let them in, looking around the edge of the door before closing it and relocking it quickly. Two of the newcomers hissed and turned away from the shining sword. I sheathed it.

The third visitor strode up to me, offering his hand. “Milady,” he said, bowing over it. “Tis good to meet you. I am Dr. Rudyard Greeble, scientist and studier of vampires.”

“You’re human?” I asked.

“Indeed I am. I have come into possession of certain artifacts that have extended my life indefinitely and have endowed upon me talents which make it possible to live safely in this environment.”

“But why do you want to live here? Why not in the...”

“World above? I am a studier of vampires, as I said.” He presented me a thick, leather bound book. “Allow me to present you with the latest edition of my Vampire guide. I think you should find it very useful.” He handed me another, smaller book. “This is merely a compendium of the different types of beings who live here. You will find it very useful when you’re trying to deal with them all.”

“Are there many different types? I know about vampires, weres...”

“Well, of course, there are the elves, fallen stars, orc, ghouls, ghosts, invaders... the list goes on and on. Of course, not all those types are represented in Midoria.” Rudyard looked around. “But of course I am monopolizing you, milady. You should meet your other guests. These are two of the finest vampires in Midoria, Aliana and Rhett. Aliana is the best fighter in the whole baronet, and I believe that Cloudbright has conscripted her into your service, as bodyguard and teacher. Is that right, Aliana?”

The vampiress bowed her head, then looked directly at me and smiled, or, rather, bared her sharp teeth. “I’ll do my best,” she said, as if suggesting that even her best probably wouldn’t be enough to teach me someone like me.


“And Rhett is one of the master vampires, of course. He’s the perfect man to have on your side... because you wouldn’t want him not on your side, would you?”

The tall, strange... being?... bowed slightly. He seemed slightly disapproving.

“Er... nice to meet you all.” I said. Master vampire? I did not ask. Bodyguard? Fallen stars!?!?

I looked down at the sword in my hand. The books in the other. A Spotter’s Guide to Vampires I read. So You’re New To Darkside; The People You’re Likely to Meet and What You Should Know About Them. The script was rather small; it would have to be, to fit all that on the spine.

Now, I reminded myself, would be a very bad time to go hysterical. Nonetheless, the edges of my vision were beginning to fade to white. Was this what it was like to go mad? I wondered idly. Small things seemed to be skittering around in my brain; little repair bots off to fix the holes in my perceived reality, perhaps.

Rudyard looked at me uncertainly, then at the others. “Perhaps the Baroness is a little tired,” he suggested. “Why don’t we leave her to get some peace?”

I nodded in appreciation of this plan, then fell over.

Advisers

I had been expecting Halloween style decorations; dark, foreboding furniture inset with bats, stone archways, darkness barely lit with candles. I expected cobwebs everywhere, a hunchbacked servant named igor, a coffin instead of a bed.

Instead, as I climbed the stairs to my new house (for as long as I survived, I supposed) I was shocked to find decor such as you might see in a home improvements magazine (not titled Goths at Home).

Five spacy rooms, outfitted with comfortable furniture and colorful rugs and pillows (the house, happily, had electricity), composed the house, all surrounding a central courtyard which actually opened up onto the sky. The walls were almost all lined with books, the occasional knick-knack dotted here and there. It looked more like the home of an upper middle-class book worm than a vampire.

“It’s lovely,” I gushed, plumping an embroidered pillow. “This is all mine?”

“You can redecorate if you want,” the potato sniffed. “Lord Ask didn’t have the best taste, in my opinion.”

“No– it’s perfect. All I could ask for is a kitchen.”

“You humans and your cooking,” the potato said disparagingly. “I suppose you can acquire all the things you need from the surface during the daylight hours. There’s a boat in the boat shed which is yours as well. You can use that to go to the surface.”

“But isn’t the surface right up there?” I gestured towards the courtyard.

“Inaccessible.” Potato replied off-hand. “There’s a spell on it.”

“What do I do?” I asked. “I mean, what is my role as baroness? Do I have to give instructions or fill out paperwork or what?”

“The Darkside is a little short on paperwork,” the potato’s companion said, grinning. He had removed his hood and face covering and revealed a visage so hideous that it made me feel vaguely nauseous. It appeared to be half rotted, unhealed knife cuts scoring it several times over. His hair was lanky and brownish gray, and his teeth were several shades of yellow and pointing in various opposing directions.

“You’ll be receiving taxes from the citizenry. It is nominally your job to keep the peace and see that everything is happening as it should, but there are several different people who can take care of things for you. You will have to make many decisions, but with your advisers to help you, you really won’t have much work to do at all.”

The word advisors made me start. I looked over to see the potato’s companion leering at me. So that was their game, I thought. I knew that people were unlikely to help each other out for no reason, here. Wherever here really was.

A loud noise resounding through the walls made the potato start. She looked in the direction of the sound, then back at me.

“I’ll come back next sunrise. Remember this well; do NOT let anyone in.”

Her companion wrapped himself up in the thick garments again and they left.

I wrapped my arms around myself. As much as I was trying to convince myself that it was all a dream, it wasn’t working. This was real– vampires, the potato, the fact that I appeared to have inherited a very dangerous position. The fact that I probably wouldn’t manage to survive very long and if I did it would be because of Dolores and company and I had a sinking feeling that they weren’t the type of people I should trust. Worse, I had the feeling that there wasn’t anyone trustworthy in my new baronet. Unless there actually was honor among thieves. Which I highly doubted.

I wandered over to the bookshelves, hoping there’d be something to help me out. Darkside for Dummies or something like that. But all the books that were in English– and there weren’t many– were about ferrets. Perhaps the old Baron had had pet ferrets or something. Not being particularly interested in the little animals, I favored collapsing on one of the couches instead. Well, maybe I’d die quickly and my next life would be better. I’d come back as someone who never ever got entangled in anything not mundane and live a happy boring life. I was thinking, dreamily, of all the not vampire-related things I would do when I reincarnated, when a long, sharp noise, like a fingernail being dragged across a chalkboard, bifurcated my daydream.

I followed the origin of the noise to a door I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it was the ferrets, I thought opening the heavy latches.

It was a cat, sleek and white and Siamese. As soon as the door was opened a crack it slithered in, running to the center of the room and running about, it’s nose to the ground.

“Hello, kitty,” I said, a bit self consciously. “Do you live here too?” The cat looked at me for a moment as if trying to understand what I was saying, then... how do I describe it? It compressed and elongated and grew and de-furred and in less than a second a man was standing there, instead of a cat.

I was surprised, but not as surprised as if this had happened to me four days before.

“You’re a were-cat?” I asked. Hadn’t the potato mentioned something about weres?

“Who’s been here?” he demanded.

I opened my mouth to tell him, then thought the better of it. Don’t let strangers in, potato had said. I suddenly got an inkling of what Snow White must have felt. What if everyone is a stranger? How could you live without inviting at least someone in?

“Who are you?” I shot back.

For a moment he bridled, his muscles shifting visible underneath his white t-shirt. I gulped– if he attacked me I’d have no chance. But then he relaxed and bowed, sweeping one hand gracefully towards the floor.

“Forgive me for being so abrupt, Milady,”he said, smiling down at me. “I am Cloudbright, who worked for Lord Ask. I came to declare my fealty to you, and to assist you in any way you need assistance.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me and take the baronet?” I asked, more out of curiosity than defense.

Cloudbright laughed, if it’s possible to laugh and hiss at the same time. “I don’t want the baronet,” he replied. “Power comes at a price, Milady, and sometimes that price is too steep to pay.”

“So I’ve discovered,” I muttered. “What did you do, for Lord...”

“Ask, Milady. His longer name is quite unpronounceable for us non-vampires. I assisted him.” He shrugged. “Kept track of certain things, saw that things got done, went where he couldn’t go. Things like that.”

“How long was Lord Ask Baron?”

“About four hundred years.” Cloudbright shrugged again. “Longer than I’d like to do it. I’m not sure he’s all that upset about being dead. He was looking forward to retirement. Trying to convince me to do it, but I wouldn’t bite.” He hissed-laughed again. “Literally.”

“And now you want to help me in the same regard.”

“Why not? I need a job, you don’t have a clue. Frankly, I’ll take care of you better than the Snakes.”

“The Snakes?” I asked.

“The ones who brought you here. If you want my advice, steer clear of them from now on. They’re bad news, Milady, you can be sure of that.”

“And you’re good news.”

Clearbright grinned, revealing all his sharp, white teeth. “The best news you’ve had all day.”