26. Brody
Brody
Idon’t go to Ari’s in the morning. I feel deflated, like all the wind has been knocked from my sails and I’m just drifting.
I hate feeling like this. I know the whole “golden retriever” thing sometimes gets on people’s nerves, but it’s a much nicer way to live.
Today though, I can’t muster the enthusiasm and so I allow myself to wallow in self-pity and self-loathing.
It’s my fault we didn’t get the loan. If only I’d filled out the forms more diligently, been more aggressive in the projections.
“It isn’t your fault,” Matt says from the doorway to my room. He’s holding tea for me, an angel of caffeinated drinks.
“It feels like it.”
“She’s a vampire. She technically fails their criteria. It’s not your fault.”
“I got our hopes up.”
“It’s not your fault,” he reiterates. “So drink this,” he places the tea on my bedside table, “and then have a shower and go to work.”
“What’s the point?”
But I do what I’m told, dragging my feet as I walk slowly from our house to Ari’s.
But she’s smiling as she opens the door and pulls me inside. “Have I missed something?” I ask, feeling like an idiot.
“We’re going to get an investor,” she tells me.
“We are?”
“Yep.”
“Who?”
“A vampire investor. Well, it’s kind of a committee. Clara’s dad leads it.”
“Oh.” That makes sense. Matt has told me before that vampires like to help their own and there’s a shadow network of “philanthropists” helping to give younger vampires a boost. “Philanthropy” being just another word for nepotism. “Clara’s dad?”
“Andrei Hele.” She whispers his name as if it something almost dirty.
And it is. “Andrei Hele? The terror—”
“He’s an activist.”
Vampires say activist. Humans say terrorist – on account of the violence at some of his more recent rallies and the kind of language his most ardent supporters have started using. I raise an eyebrow at her.
“It’s not actually him who would be the investor. It’s the committee who invest in other vampire businesses. He’s just the route in.”
She makes it sound like it’s nothing. Like Andrei Hele doesn’t have a reputation that precedes him to such a degree.
He’s like the vampire Donald Trump, but clever and attractive and therefore infinitely more dangerous.
He’s been running a political campaign to give vampirism a protected status, which on the face of it is a good thing; it’ll mean that companies can’t refuse to hire vampires and shops have to make reasonable adjustments so vampires can use their stores.
But it never seems like he’s campaigning for the young vampires who are actually affected by the discrimination.
He wants his friends – his very rich and well connected friends – in positions of power.
Late stage capitalism plus vampire oligarchs feels like a recipe for disaster.
“Say something,” she whispers to break the silence that had shrouded us.
“I didn’t realise he was Clara’s father.” I don’t know what else to say.
“Yeah. Let’s just say that Clara tries to spend as little time as possible at Hele House.”
The ancestral home of the Hele’s is the subject of a hundred spooky stories used to scare human kids. We all grew up with them, even if my family stopped telling them once we discovered Matt was vampire.
“Isn’t there another way?” I ask her.
“I don’t think so. We already tried the human business loan angle.”
“What if I…” I trail off. I don’t actually have any other ideas.
I pick up the coffee and take a few gulps, hoping the caffeine will fire up the old synapses.
I don’t want to take Andrei Hele’s money, or the money of his cronies.
But this isn’t my company, I’m just a lowly coder.
“If you think this is the best thing for Only Fangs, then I’ll support it,” I say eventually.
“It isn’t that I think it’s the best thing.” She measures the words as she says them. “But I don’t think there’s another way. And as soon as we can do this on our own, we repay the loan and that’s it.”
“OK. Well, in that case I guess we need to get to work. How do we pitch to this committee?”
“Ummm…”
“You don’t actually know how this all works, do you?”
Ari shakes her head.
“We should ring Clara and find out.”
It turns out that there is a really rather formal process to vampire investors. Well, they do tend to like all the pomp and ceremony. I guess after a century or two you need to make everything into an event just to keep the boredom of your own existence at bay.
First off is a pitch meeting with Andrei himself.
Clara describes it as a “friendly chat”, but I don’t feel that’s in his repertoire.
Anyway, if that goes well and he likes the business idea, then there’s a big investor weekend at Hele House.
Apparently this is an opportunity to meet the other vampires with deep pockets and sell the idea to them – literally a ten minute slot to present to the room and answer a barrage of questions.
Everything then culminates in a big gala dinner.
It all sounds hideous. Oh, and the vampire committee calls itself the “High Council”, just to make it even worse.
“Luckily I won’t need to be part of it,” I tell Ari, trying to keep the glee out of my tone. She will have to do the hobnobbing on her own.
“What do you mean?” She narrows her eyes.
“I’m human.”
“I can’t do this on my own.”
“I’m human,” I repeat. This time a little more forcefully.
“But…”
“I’m human. He hates humans.”
“He doesn’t hate humans. He just thinks…” she trails off. She doesn’t need to clarify his views on my species.
Ari cocks her head to one side and scrutinises me carefully.
“What?” My hand goes to my face instinctively. Do I have something on my cheek?
“You could be a vampire, you know.” A small smile creeps across her features.
“Absolutely not.”
“It could work.”
“It could not.”
“You know he’ll just assume,” she says and the smile widens.
“You don’t think Andrei Hele will realise I’m human the second he sets eyes on me?”
“Why would he. The app is called Only Fangs. We’re going to the vampire High Council. You’ve grown up with a vampire so you know how to act. And we’ll just say you’ve been living somewhere super remote.”
“You’re not actually being serious…” But I can tell from the look in eye that yes, she’s being deadly serious.
“He’ll assume you’re nervous because you’re not used to vampire high-society, what with the whole coming from the back-arse of nowhere thing. He’ll assume that’s why he doesn’t know you. It’s perfect.”
“It’s suicide.”
“Don’t be melodramatic.”
“But—” My protestations die on my lips when I see the pleading look on her face. “OK, let’s do it.”
Have I just agreed to meet with actual Andrei Hele and pretend to be an actual vampire?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
This woman is going to be the death of me.