Chapter Four
Beside our parked car, Sophie, Elaine, and I share a group hug and a short celebration involving lots of excited squealing.
Payment for the Valentine’s Day Ball won’t solve all of our problems, but the money will give us enough to pay for a first and last month’s rent on a new place, so our situation just got a little brighter.
We drive back to our condemned apartment, where that orange notice on the door doesn’t scare me quite so badly anymore.
Everything important fits in one suitcase, a habit I never broke after a childhood of moving every several months.
Then, they drop me back off at Benjamin’s, where I’ll be staying for the next week to train for the ball.
“I still don’t get why you have to train,” Sophie says, pouting at the little gothic house like it’s done this to her personally.
“Vampires are strict about their etiquette,” I say.
I’d been relieved to hear there was training involved, since I’ve heard rumors of the strict, old-fashioned expectations at private vampire events.
“These balls are basically like traveling back to the Regency era. Lots of rules and dance steps to learn.”
“Except they can eat you if you curtsy wrong,” Elaine says.
“Benjamin assures me they’ll only eat me with consent. I’ll have a blood card with my tasting notes, where they sign up for time slots and everything.”
My friends exchange a glance and burst into giggles.
My face flames. “Not like that. My God, you two…”
When their laughter finally dies down, silence lingers. As I hesitate, looking from Sophie to Elaine, I find myself fighting back an embarrassing desire to cry.
“You guys will be okay?” I ask.
“Sure,” Sophie says. “I’ll stay with David.”
“And I’ll be at my parents’ place,” Elaine agrees.
“Keep researching new apartments,” I say.
“We will.” Sophie grins. “Don’t have too much fun without us!”
With one last goodbye, I head inside to train for my big night.
* * *
I throw myself into valentine lessons with the same intensity I dedicate to everything else. If I’m going to do this, I plan on doing it well. I show up to our first middle-of-the-night lesson yawning but prepared, with a notebook and pen in hand.
Benjamin smiles when he sees me. “So different than my previous trainee,” he says, with a wry shake of his head.
“How many valentines have you arranged matches for?” I ask, remembering that singular rave review.
“Just the one,” he says. “The Valentine Society just opened last year, so most applicants go to the larger agencies with vampires who aren’t, well…
courtless, like I am. And I’m careful with those I select.
Most vampires only consider the taste of a human’s blood, but to me, it’s the enjoyment of being bitten that’s most important. ”
“Is it really so rare?”
He gives me a look. “You saw it for yourself with your friends.”
I sink into my chair with my brow furrowed.
Benjamin waits for a moment to see if I have any further questions, and then launches into today’s lesson. “We’ll begin with an overview of the four vampire courts…”
I dutifully take notes as he talks, sitting in rapt silence. I’ve always been a good student, and it helps when the subject material is interesting.
“Camelia, of the rose and dagger, is called the court of beauty. Models, actors… many of them are famous, or hoping to be, so it’s unlikely to be a good match for your desire for discretion.
” He moves down the list. “Vulpe may be a possibility. It is the court of artists, represented by the snake and goblet. Some are more public-facing, but others prefer their privacy.”
I bite my lip. “I’d… prefer to avoid that court, too.”
Benjamin shoots me an amused glance. “Vulpe? Curious. I don’t believe I’ve ever had someone opposed to them.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrug half-heartedly. “I don’t mesh well with artistic types.”
His brow furrows.
“I know how it sounds! I just…” The truth is that I made a promise to myself a long time ago: never fall in love with an artist. Not after I spent my entire life feeling like I was second best to my own mother, who always loved her art more than me.
I won’t put myself in a situation where I’m second best again.
But I don’t want to touch on my relationship with my mom when I barely know him, so I scramble for an explanation.
“Your reasons are your own. I’ll respect your wishes.
” Benjamin shrugs, and moves on. “The next court is Solomon.” He shows me an icon of a moth over a skull’s mouth.
“They are… certainly private, as you would prefer. They deal with vampire law and the secrets of our species, such as details of the creation of new vampires. But they are considered the most dangerous of the courts.”
“I didn’t realize being a valentine could be dangerous,” I say, my stomach flipping.
“It isn’t, generally,” he says. “Our treatment of valentines is considered symbolic of our promise to do no harm to humankind, and thus the peace that exists between us. None of us wish to return to the dark days that came before. The court wars, the hunters, living in the shadows…” He shakes his head.
“Suffice to say, breaking a valentine contract is one of the most severe crimes in vampire society. And we enforce the law among our own kind, as we swore to humans we would, long ago.”
“What if I broke the contract?” I ask.
“You’d be immediately dismissed without payment for the rest of your term and blacklisted by the vampire courts.
But short of upholding your duties, there isn’t much you could do to violate it.
Still… Solomon attracts vampires of a certain character, and a Solomon valentine’s duties would likely include attending Solomon parties, which are…
” His lips twist as he pauses, as though considering how much to say.
“Not a good match for your preferences.”
“None of this sounds very promising so far,” I say, sighing.
“Well, that brings us to the last of the four courts. Celeste, the court of the quill and moon, who dedicate themselves to preserving history over their long lifespans.” He taps the icon.
“Scholars and historians. If you want a private, quiet life as a valentine, this is your best bet. My last client was placed with a Celeste vampire. However, they are the smallest of the courts, and rarely the most enthusiastic partygoers, so I can only hope that there will be someone looking for a valentine at the ball.”
I place an elbow on the table, propping my chin up with one hand. It’s hard not to let my thoughts run away with that idea. A scholarly vampire… “That sounds like my dream life,” I say with a wistful sigh.
Benjamin gives a wry smile. “I will do my best to arrange it for you,” he says. “Though I find these situations rarely work out as perfectly as one might hope. You may be surprised by what you end up wanting.”
I smile and agree, though privately, I think he’s wrong. I know exactly what I want, and I don’t intend to bend on the matter.
* * *
Most of Benjamin’s lessons are easy, even with my thoughts muddled by sleep deprivation. I’ve never had a problem memorizing facts or rules, and vampires and etiquette are no different.
But then come the dance lessons.
I memorize the steps of every dance quickly, but Benjamin’s frown is unrelenting.
“You’re so stiff,” he says. One hand on my lower back tries to coax me into a position my body doesn’t seem willing to bend into. “Try to relax. Follow my lead. Feel the music, rather than just performing the steps.”
“I’m trying,” I huff. “I just don’t know how to do that.” And trying to force myself to relax is paradoxical. Sometimes I manage it for a second, but my body tenses as soon as my mind wanders.
I find his instructions aggravatingly vague, impossible to follow.
It reminds me of being a child, when my mom attempted to teach me how to paint.
Lessons that usually ended with me in frustrated tears.
The memory—along with the familiar feeling that this can only end in disappointment for us both—only makes me more awkward.
After cringing my way through another dance, I shut my eyes, letting out a frustrated noise. “I’m hopeless at this.”
A moment passes, and a hand pats my shoulder.
“Not everyone can be good at everything,” Benjamin says.
You’ve got the most important parts of being a valentine down already; the rest of this is just icing on the cake.
” When I open my eyes, he gives me a wry look.
“I promise, dancing is only a minor part of all of this,” he says.
“You’re doing wonderfully, Nora, really. ”
It’s embarrassing how much the praise warms me. I manage a small smile, tucking hair behind my ear, despite my lingering frustration with myself.
I hope he’s right. Because after what feels like a ludicrously short period of time, the night of the ball arrives.
* * *
I stare at myself in the mirror.
The dress is white tulle, so delicate it’s nearly transparent in the bodice, but with intricate pink flower appliqués providing coverage for my breasts. Below the waist, layers of ethereal fabric and further floral appliqués build into a voluminous, dramatic skirt.
“I look straight out of a fairy tale,” I murmur. Though the skirt is full, the sheer bodice shows far more skin than I’m used to. My back is entirely bare, and the tightly laced bodice has coaxed out some cleavage I wasn’t aware I had. “Though maybe risqué… Are you sure this isn’t too much?”
Lissa gives a distinctly unladylike snort from where she’s watching.
“Trust me,” she says, “you don’t have to worry about that.
You look perfect.” I flush at the praise, especially from her.
It’s hard to forget how brusque she was when we first met, but she’s softened over the last few days I’ve been here.
“Now…” She leans forward, clasping her hands together. “Can I do your makeup too? Please?”
I’m happy to agree, especially since I can’t remember the last time I touched a makeup brush.
I’ve never been very good at it. Lissa grumbles as I wrinkle my nose at the tickling sensation.
My eyes water every time she comes near them with a pencil.
But after a considerable amount of wrangling with my body’s aversion to her tools, Lissa spins me around to face the mirror, and I find myself gazing at a new version of myself.
I tilt my head slowly from side to side, admiring her work.
I was afraid I’d look ridiculous in heavy makeup, but Lissa used a light touch.
I don’t look unlike myself, just like a better version, my skin smooth and my face glowing.
My cheekbones and lips shimmer, and white liner makes my eyes appear larger than life.
My eyelids are brushed with blushing pink to match the rose appliqués on my dress. I look dreamy, ethereal.
“Correction: now you look straight out of a fairy tale,” Lissa says.
I smile, pushing my glasses up. I insisted on keeping them, despite Lissa trying to get me into contacts.
“Thanks, Lissa. This is unreal.” But my smile fades the longer I look at myself in the mirror.
“You and Benjamin have worked so hard to help me,” I say, a lump rising in my throat.
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Or live up to their expectations.
Lissa pats my back in an approximation of a comforting gesture. “Aw, don’t get sappy on me now, Nora.” She leans in. “Plus, you know, this isn’t entirely out of the goodness of our hearts. Benjamin does get a finder’s fee, and this helps build his business.”
I take a deep breath, and the lump recedes. “That does make me feel better.”
She grins. “I thought it might.” She reaches down to add the last touch to my outfit: a white-and-gold anatomical heart pin, which designates me as an unclaimed valentine. “Ready for the ball, then?”
I don’t think I’ll ever feel ready. But with Lissa’s help, I’m about as close as it’s possible to get.