Drink, Slay, Love Read online

  A few students were scattered around the picnic tables. She gravitated toward an empty table. She laid the tray down and then stretched herself out on the bench, face up to the sky. A few minutes later she heard voices.

  “Dude, it’s so her.”

  She opened her eyes when shade fell over her face. Shoulder to shoulder, the two wannabe vampire hunters peered down at her. “Whoa, you go here?” Chubby said.

  “You’re blocking the sun,” Pearl said.

  Like Tweedledum and Tweedledee, they shifted sideways in unison.

  She closed her eyes and focused on the warmth of the sunlight. She continued to hear them breathe. Sighing, she opened her eyes. “Seriously? You’re still here?” For a moment she missed the night. She could have a moment alone at night. She never knew humans were so socially needy.

  “You’re the new girl that everyone’s talking about,” Tall said. He plopped down on the bench beside her. “You realize you have already achieved mythic status. Kudos.”

  Pearl sat up.

  Chubby sat on the other side of her. “You don’t want to eat that,” he said, pointing to a shriveled crouton in her salad.

  “True,” she said.

  “So how do you like Greenbridge High?” Tall asked. “Is it not a delightful treasure trove of intellectual splendor?”

  “I am delighted beyond belief,” Pearl said.

  Tall whipped out a paper bag and extracted a sandwich. He plugged his mouth with it, but to Pearl’s disappointment, he continued to talk around the bread. “We’d be honored to be your guides as you adjust to this mad, mad world. We know the ins and outs of this school. We can tell you who’s safe and who’s”—he dropped his voice low—“suspect.”

  Don’t ask, Pearl ordered herself. Do not engage them further. But the word just hung there. “‘Suspect’?”

  “We’re crusaders,” Chubby said.

  “There’s more to this world than meets the eye, Horatio,” Tall intoned.

  Approaching the table, Evan corrected, “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’” Evan straddled the bench opposite her and grinned. “Looks like you found plenty of people to eat lunch with. Apologies for underestimating you.”

  Pearl turned her head. Behind her, a semicircle of kids had formed. She tried to pick out which group they were from based on Antoinette’s descriptions and the tables she’d seen inside, but these seemed to be a mix. Some wore torn jeans and strings of safety pins. Others wore tight skirts and drooping shirts. Others were in plain shirts and jeans or sweaters and skirts. A few wore flip-flops, despite the chill. A few wore heels. Most wore sneakers. One wore clogs. All of them had their eyes (black, brown, green, blue, hazel, overly mascaraed, kohl-painted, natural) trained on Pearl.

  “Yes?” Pearl said to them.

  One spoke up, “Heard you went ballistic on Queen Ashlyn’s car.”

  Another said, “You stood up to Mr. Barstow.”

  “I heard you clog danced across the cars of the entire volleyball team,” a third said.

  “I heard you punched out Mr. Barstow.”

  She debated clarifying the rumors and then discarded the idea. She shrugged. “It’s been a busy day,” she said. A few of them smiled. All of them continued to watch her, including Evan. “What do you want?”

  The hunter wannabe Tall spoke up, “You have that shiny new-girl smell. General consensus is you rock, and we want to see what you do next.”

  Chubby said, “Yeah, we totally want to worship you.”

  Pearl smiled at them. “That would be lovely.”

  Chapter

  NINE

  “You smell of humans,” Mother said.

  Pearl maneuvered through the stacks of books and papers in Mother’s underground office toward the wingback chair. “It’s given me a headache,” she admitted. The stench was caught in her hair. She’d need a dozen showers with extra-strength soap plus a Brillo pad to scrub herself.

  “Stand,” Mother said as Pearl reached the chair. “I do not want the smell to seep into the upholstery.” She added another name to a yellow legal pad.

  Reading upside down, Pearl saw it was an invite list to the Fealty Ceremony. She envisioned a string of nights spent sealing envelopes and suppressed a sigh. “Aren’t you worried that invites will fall into the wrong hands?”

  Mother nodded at a stack of a hundred or so cards. “Look. Don’t touch.”

  About to reach for one, Pearl froze. She clasped her hands behind her back and looked. The cream-colored cards looked like silk. In the center was a single image: a twist of leaves in front of the crescent moon, the Family seal. Underneath it, there was a date.

  “We will add a drop of Family blood to each one to prove its authenticity,” Mother said. “As attendees arrive in our territory at sundown, we will escort them through the tunnels to the mansion’s cellar. No one outside the Family will know the specific location until the night of the event.”

  Pearl closed her hands over her wrists. “Whose blood?” She didn’t have any to spare right now.

  Mother looked up sharply.

  She should have kept her mouth shut. Perhaps it was a decent time to change the subject. “I have an address for you. One fifty Mount Grey Road. A girl named Ashlyn has told her parents to expect you and Daddy tonight. So you know, she thinks you’ll be bringing a check to pay for a little car damage.”

  Mother raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Pearl wished she could master that expression. Without a reflection, she couldn’t practice in a mirror. “Very well,” Mother said. She put down her pen and rose to her feet. “Daddy and I will leave now. It would be a shame to be late when we’re expected. And speaking of late, you have a class with Minerva.”

  Seriously? After all day in human high school, she had to attend more classes? “But . . . ,” Pearl began. She saw Mother’s lips begin to press together, and she changed what she planned to say. “I’d hoped to accompany you and Daddy. I didn’t have a chance to eat today, and Ashlyn—”

  “You need the extra etiquette training most of all,” Mother said. “We have to erase any bad habits you acquire through consorting with humans.” She crossed her office to an ornate wardrobe decorated with Renaissance-like scenes that featured vampires feasting on corseted shepherdesses plus cupids with fiery hands in a shaft of sunlight—Mother’s idea of art was not demure. She kept her “work” clothes here, the ones she wore to hunt. Opening the wardrobe, she selected a burgundy suit dress. “Any details I should know? Did you create any alibis we must uphold?”

  Pearl shook her head. “Everyone seemed very interested in knowing me. No one seemed at all interested in knowing anything about me.” Except for Evan and Bethany, she amended silently, but she’d told them nothing so it didn’t count.

  “Excellent,” Mother said. “You have learned your lessons well.” She held up a finger to forestall Pearl’s reply. “Not that that excuses you from class tonight. Shower first. You smell of bathroom stalls and human trash.”

  Pearl opened her mouth to protest that this wasn’t her fault. High school wasn’t her idea. But then she saw Mother’s expression—her lips curled as if she anticipated Pearl’s response—and Pearl wisely didn’t speak. Later, if Pearl could catch Daddy alone, she’d ask whether she truly had to attend every day. It seemed a bit overkill, no pun intended.

  “Put your towel in the hamper when you finish,” Mother said. “Otherwise, we’ll find Cousin Jeremiah chomping on it later tonight.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Use the upstairs,” she said. “I don’t want the downstairs showers contaminated.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Pearl repeated.

  “And remember: Silence about your daytime activities,” Mother said. “Until the king’s dinner is secured, other vampires may not look favorably on your new ability. We do not want word to reach His Majesty before the ceremony.”

  “Of course, Mother.” She bowed as she backed out
of the office.

  Out in the corridor, Pearl leaned against the cool concrete wall. She’d nearly antagonized Mother in there. She had to remember to watch herself. She was back in her world now, and she needed to focus. As a door opened and shut around the corner, Pearl peeled herself off the wall and headed quickly for the stairs. It would be best if she could avoid Family until she was in a more suitable mind-set. Mother was right—these humans had a corrupting influence.

  Upstairs in the house, she locked the bathroom door behind her and turned on only the hot water. She let it run until waves of steam poured into the room, and then she shed her pink sweater, black skirt, and steampunk boots. She stepped under the stream. Hot water hissed on her skin, and she let it flow over her. She hadn’t drunk enough blood today for her skin to redden in the heat, but she felt it scald away the taint of humanness.

  Out there, in the sun, it was alarmingly easy to forget that humans weren’t real people. She’d laughed at Evan’s jokes. She’d wanted him to look at her. At the library she’d been insulted when he criticized her clothes. Yes, she’d wanted to bite him too, but that didn’t make up for the fact that she’d had conversations with humans as if she were one of them.

  Grabbing a towel, she scrubbed hard, as if she could scour away every human breath that had touched her body. When she finished, she felt dizzy, and her head hurt. She needed more blood. Tomorrow she had to arrange to bite someone. It was just so impossible to find a student alone. They traveled in flocks like sheep.

  Pearl brushed her teeth, popping her fangs out to clean them. She then dressed in her favorite soft black jeans and a nice black blouse. Her headache squeezed harder. If she wanted to make it to dawn without passing out, she’d have to sneak a pint or two of stored blood.

  Ugh, that was a disgusting thought.

  She headed downstairs after depositing the towel in the laundry, per Mother’s request. Downstairs was mostly empty. Since a few of the older vampires were ultraquiet, one could never be sure, but she didn’t see any relatives. She crept past the doors that led to each one’s private rooms.

  Each door in the catacombs was steel and resembled a bank vault door, except for the one to the storage room, which looked more like the door to a walk-in refrigerator—mainly because it was. Pearl paused by the storage room door and listened. She heard nothing. She shot glances in both directions. She saw no one.

  She could not believe she was raiding the storage room for spare blood. This was humiliating. She promised herself it was just this once. Easing the door open, she ducked inside. Chill air pricked her still-damp skin. She walked quickly to the back, selected a jar from a shelf at random, and cracked it open. Holding her nose, she chugged it down. The old blood tasted like copper. She felt as if she were sucking on pennies. After she finished the jar, she squeezed her lips shut, forcing the blood to stay down as it churned in her stomach. Slowly, the blood spread through her, warming her arms and legs. Her fingers and toes began to tingle, and she sighed in relief.

  Now she was ready.

  She sneaked out of the storage room and headed for Minerva’s quarters. It was a fifteen-minute trek (and occasionally a crawl through a few of the narrower passageways). Pearl had never had a class with her, but she knew where she lived because of Jadrien. Minerva had been his private tutor. His Family had a lot of ambitions for him.

  Minerva was a member of the New Haven clan, but she frequently tutored members of other Families, due to either her venerable age or her overabundance of wrinkles. (Either she was remarkably old or she’d been turned late in life.) Rumor had it she was as old as the king of New England himself. Not a question that was prudent to ask any vampire, even a sweet little old teacher vampire.

  Unlike the other steel doors, Minerva’s door had been painted a rich purple with gold accents. Pearl paused in front of it to straighten her blouse, smooth her hair, and pluck the spiderwebs off her shoes.

  “Come in, child,” a voice said through the door. The voice was warm and welcoming. It creaked like an old rocking chair. Pearl pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  Inside was decorated with delicate chairs and tables covered in curled gold that looked as if they’d been pinched from Versailles in a postrevolution yard sale. A priceless collection of hideous antiques—china plates painted with pastoral scenes, ornate filigree eggs, and bejeweled vases—filled shelves on the walls. But the most noticeable feature of the room was the crystal chandelier. Suited to a grand ballroom with a cathedral ceiling, rather than an ordinary room, the chandelier dangled so low that the bottom crystals were only three feet above the faded Oriental rug.

  Minerva stood next to the chandelier. She held an ivory cane in one hand and was dressed in high-necked lace and damask silk. Around her in a semicircle were two dozen young vampires, including Jadrien. All of them were silent, as if they were sculptures in Minerva’s collection too.

  “So delighted you could join us,” Minerva said with a warm smile. “This class is specifically for young vampires about to experience their first Fealty Ceremony. I do hope you’ll be our first volunteer.”

  She heard a hiss, and her eyes fixed on Jadrien’s face. His eyes slid away from hers to focus on the Oriental rug. Pearl began, “Since I’m late, perhaps—”

  “You must learn exactly how to behave in the presence of the king of New England,” Minerva said. “One important rule is not to be tardy. The king values punctuality, as do I.”

  Since she’d been sworn to secrecy, Pearl realized she couldn’t explain. She hoped this wasn’t going to be a problem. Minerva couldn’t be truly angry. She seemed too much like a refined heiress, who surely held herself above such pettiness. “Please accept my apology—”

  “You and you,” Minerva said as she pointed to two male vampires. Pearl recognized them vaguely. One was Jadrien’s brother Chadwick. He had a collection of desiccated bat wings—a collection that, to Pearl’s amusement, he’d failed to find at all ironic. She couldn’t remember the name of the other vampire, but she thought he was from the Old Saybrook clan. Like her, both were due to complete the Fealty Ceremony for the first time this year. “Please stand on either side of our volunteer.”

  If this was about how to curtsy to the king, then she could handle it. Thanks to Aunt Lianne’s constant badgering, Pearl had perfect posture. She tried again to meet Jadrien’s eyes for some hint of what to expect. Avoiding her eyes again, he focused on the chandelier.

  “My darlings, if you fail to arrive on time, if you fail to approach the throne in the specified number of steps, if you fail to greet His Majesty with the proper words, if you sip from the wrong side of the Cup of Fealty . . . the reaction will be swift.” Minerva nodded to the boys who flanked Pearl. “Hold her steady, please.”

  The two of them gripped Pearl’s arms. Pearl reminded herself not to resist. Minerva was her teacher, and Mother had sent her here with the expectation of obedience. Her expression still pleasant, Minerva picked up a flail. It consisted of a metal bar with three chains dangling from it. Each chain ended in a spiked ball.

  Minerva walked in a semicircle around Pearl.

  “Really, this isn’t necessary. I underst—,” Pearl began.

  Pain exploded on her skin as the spikes bit into her back.

  “Do not scream,” Minerva instructed her.

  As Pearl clamped her mouth shut, Minerva hit again. And again.

  Pearl huddled beneath the chandelier. The other students filed past her as Minerva shooed them into a straight line. “Yes, my jewels, my gems, my delights!” Minerva crowed. “Excellent, keep walking! You all must master the proper walk. . . Pearl, I said all.”

  As Jadrien walked past her, Pearl thought he’d reach down and help her stand. But his eyes slid over her as if she were invisible. Alone, she struggled to her feet as pain shot from her back down her thighs. She gritted her teeth as her head spun and was grateful that she’d had the stale blood. Without it, she might not have risen at all.

  “Sho
ulders back,” Minerva instructed, her voice still cheerful. “Posture. Arms lightly by your sides. Your steps should be no more than one and a half feet in length, and you should follow this rhythm.” She clapped, and everyone marched in a circle. Their footsteps were soft on the Oriental rug. “His Majesty repeats this ceremony once a century for each state in his domain. Any variation from the proper ritual, and he will notice. Any lapse, and he will notice. Any hesitation, and he will notice. And, kittens, he is not as kind as I.”

  Gritting her teeth against the pain, Pearl joined the end of the line.

  They marched for three hours.

  At last, Minerva lined them up against the shelves with the filigree eggs and priceless vases. “At the start of the ceremony, each of you will be announced by name and lineage. You will then proceed forward like so. . .” She demonstrated by walking toward a thronelike chair. She smoothly knelt on one knee. “Hands on your bent knee. Incline your head. Come on, my delights, let’s try the approach.”

  One by one, the vampires mimicked Minerva.

  A few succeeded. Most did not. Their heads weren’t bowed, or their heads were too bowed, or they didn’t kneel smoothly enough. By the time it was Pearl’s turn, eight others had felt the flail.

  As Minerva fixed her kindly old eyes on her, Pearl straightened her back. Her split skin burned each time her shirt whispered against it. Swinging her arms lightly, she walked forward. Each step sent a fresh jolt of pain through her, but she didn’t flinch or slow. Without pause, she dropped lightly to one knee and tilted her head.

  “Very nice, Pearl,” Minerva said. She placed a hand on Pearl’s back, and Pearl froze. Sweat beaded on her forehead as Minerva’s hand rested on her raw wounds. “Once this ritual is complete, the king will summon each of you by name and then drink from you. Stand, Pearl.”