Chapter 12
Lorenzo was making a cocktail when Charlie accosted him in the kitchen, blurting without any preamble: “So I—I heard about something.”
Lorenzo sighed. He hadn’t actually been aware that Charlie was here at his apartment, but Maggie and Rachel invited him over so often now that he couldn’t really be surprised. “Heard about what?”
Charlie bit his lip and stared at him for a moment. “What?” Lorenzo asked, his trepidation rising.
Charlie said, “Remember when Dylan was telling us about those vampire parties he’s worked?”
Lorenzo bent under the counter and found a miniature bottle of gin. He cracked it open and dumped the entire thing into his tumbler of blood. “Yes,” he said.
Charlie was watching him carefully. “You knew about those? About—the other vampires living here, in Brookville?”
Lorenzo shrugged, stirring his cocktail.
“Okay, well—” Charlie continued, “There’s apparently this, like, big deal vampire . . .” He paused to read the name off his phone. “Sebastian St. Tour de Sang.”
Lorenzo stifled an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, him.”
“You know him?” Charlie said. “How come you never said anything?”
Lorenzo shrugged again.
“Well,” Charlie said, “I found out that he’s having this big party tomorrow night, and—I think we should go.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” Charlie said, wheedling. “But really. We’ve gone to werewolf prom, we’ve gone to the free clinic, we survived an explosion of crystal ball energy—how bad could this be?”
“Bad.”
“How bad?”
Lorenzo searched for the right words for a few moments, before deciding that the unvarnished truth would have to do. “They are dicks.”
Charlie blinked. “They’re . . . okay,” he said slowly. “But—so what?”
“So I don’t think they’ll answer your questions,” Lorenzo said, sipping his drink. “Most vampires are very private.”
“You answer my questions,” Charlie said with a small grin.
“You entrapped me,” Lorenzo said as Charlie’s grin widened. “Besides,” he added, trying not to sound too personally invested in the question, “why do you need to talk to other vampires for your thesis when you have me?”
Charlie cocked his head to the side, his expression softening. “I can’t base my whole project on information from just one vampire—however helpful he’s been. I need to talk to lots of different people to get a good cross section, including other vampires.”
Charlie’s unfortunately sound reasoning aside, Lorenzo had no desire to see Sebastian or anyone who’d be at his party. And the thought of Charlie hanging around him like some eager, easily impressed puppy made him almost sick to his stomach.
Charlie read all that on his face. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll go on my own.”
“No,” Lorenzo said quickly, “don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I told you, they’re . . . it could be dangerous.”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Vampires are out in the open now,” he said. “They can’t just murder anyone who comes to talk to them.”
“Yes, because humans never murder each other,” Lorenzo said.
Charlie sighed. “Then come with me,” he said. “Be my vampire bodyguard.”
“No,” Lorenzo said. “And you shouldn’t go either. Hey,” he said, as Charlie started to turn away, and before thinking about it, he got a hold of Charlie’s hand—just a few of his fingers, really—to keep him there.
Charlie looked back at him, eyes wide, and Lorenzo dropped his hand just as quickly. At least he had his attention now. “It’s dangerous,” he said again, his voice low. “I’ll answer any vampire questions you could have, just—don’t go to that party.”
Charlie chewed on his lip, his amber eyes dark. “Okay,” he told Lorenzo.
Lorenzo didn’t buy it for a second.
And so the next night he headed up to Brookville’s tiny, uber-wealthy neighborhood, where Sebastian had renovated what must’ve been a ten-million-dollar town house.
Parking was of course a nightmare. He waited across the street, listening in irritation to the music dimly filtering out from the mansion’s many windows.
And sure enough, just past midnight, Charlie showed up.
Lorenzo stepped out of the shadows as he approached, pleased with the look of shock on Charlie’s face. “Lorenzo?” Charlie said, sounding breathless. “What—have you been following me?”
“No, I waited for you here,” Lorenzo said. He glanced meaningfully at the town house. “At the place where you said you wouldn’t go.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, deflating slightly.
“Luckily for you, you are a terrible liar,” Lorenzo added. Charlie blushed, looking away. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Charlie said.
As he took a step back toward the house, three more men approached from the other direction, stumbling over each other with the kind of giddy incoherence of a party already in progress. When he realized who they were, Lorenzo stiffened.
By then, of course, it was too late. “Hey man,” one of them called, laughter in his voice, as they drew close enough to recognize him. “Aren’t you, like . . . a vampire?”
Lorenzo grit his teeth and turned to face them. It was a clique of Sebastian’s flunkies—younger vampires he’d seen in town occasionally and spoken to once or twice. They had that dirty boyish vibe a lot of rich white vampires had—unbothered and well financed; all wellness and no showers.
The one who’d recognized him threw his hair out of his face to get a closer look, while one of the others protested drunkenly. “He is? No way.”
“No, he is, he really is,” the first one said, amusing himself. “He lives here. You live here, right? In Brookville?”
He’d encountered this same pack outside a supermarket a few months ago. “Yes,” Lorenzo said stiffly. “We’ve run into each other.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the vampire said, mock apologetic and formal, as the others giggled. “Good to see you again, sir.”
Charlie whispered, “You know these guys?”
Still laughing, the vampire added, “Don’t you, like, live with a leprechaun or something?”
The other vampires snorted. Charlie cocked his head and blinked at them. “Yeah, and I heard you run with the werewolves,” the vampire said, grinning broadly. “No, wait, you live with a troll. A she-troll! That’s fun.”
The vampires were hiccupping with laughter now. Before Lorenzo could think of something to say, Charlie surged forward at his side and offered his hand enthusiastically. “Hi!”
The giggles died away as the vampires took in Charlie with withering apathy. “This is your human?”
“We”—were about to leave, had been what Lorenzo was going to say, but Charlie jumped in again.
“Actually, I’m a grad student,” he said.
He’d drawn himself up, polished and charming, though the vampires still stared at him with open contempt.
“I’m studying supernatural creatures, and I heard Mr. St. Tour de Sang was throwing a party, so I thought it might be a good chance to introduce myself and ask him some questions. ”
One of the vampires snorted in disdain. “He’s not here.”
“He’s not?” Charlie asked.
“It’s Cannes,” said the first one, as if it were sort of embarrassing that they’d forgotten. “Where do you think he is?”
“He has houses all over the world,” another added. “He doesn’t actually live in Brookville.”
“That would be pathetic,” said the third, as they all stared at Lorenzo.
“Do you guys live here?” Charlie asked.
“We’re just lair-sitting,” the first one said. “And, y’know, drinking people, and taking some meetings about start-up ideas.”
“Could I talk to you for my paper?” Charlie asked, polite and undeterred. “Or, maybe set up a time that I could meet with Mr. St. Tour de Sang when he’s back?”
“Um, no,” the first one said.
“I’ll pass,” said another.
“Lorenzo, your human is annoying,” the last one said. “You should take care of that.”
Lorenzo didn’t like the look in their eyes as they stared at Charlie—not hungry, just frighteningly bored. “We were just going,” he said, hustling Charlie backward with an arm around his waist. “Goodbye.”
Cruel laughter followed them down a small alley alongside Sebastian’s house. As soon as he was confident they were out of the vampires’ earshot, Lorenzo whipped Charlie around to face him. “What was that?”
Charlie seemed entirely unbothered by the encounter, straightening his shirt where Lorenzo had mussed it. “Well, those guys were dicks,” he said, “but I figured I could still get something out of it, or try to.”
“You’re lucky your throat is still connected to the rest of your neck,” Lorenzo hissed.
“So those are the vampire cool kids, huh?” Charlie mused. “Y’know what’s pathetic? Being however many centuries old they are and still acting like you’re in high school.”
Lorenzo felt some of his churning unease melt away. “I suppose.”
“Hey, look at that,” Charlie said, gesturing to the side of the house. It was mostly covered in ivy, and the alley was dark, but just where Charlie was pointing, he could make out a sliver of light and a strain of music.
“It looks like a back entrance,” Charlie said, stepping closer. “A kitchen or something.”
“So what?”
“So, let’s sneak in!” Charlie said, grinning excitedly.
“What?” Lorenzo demanded.
“It’s a big party, they won’t notice us!” he said. “We can drink their booze, and, I don’t know—sneak into Sebastian’s room and, like, rub garlic on his sheets or something.”
“That’s . . . we’re not actually allergic to garlic,” Lorenzo said.
“Then we can steal something. Or break something. C’mon,” Charlie said, taking a step closer to Lorenzo and looking up at him with laughter and challenge in his eyes. “Those guys want to act like high schoolers—fine. Let’s prank them!”
This was the wonderful inverse of what Lorenzo often thought of as Charlie’s Mean Girl tendencies; he may have been sly and cutting, but Lorenzo did not mind having Charlie’s ruthlessness at his disposal.
Lorenzo stared back down at Charlie. He was intoxicating like this, fizzing over with warmth and excitement. The way their eyes met felt just like a hand slipping into his, conspiratorial and warm. He wondered what would happen if they actually touched.