Last night marked the twentieth anniversary of when I turned Kara. I have turned many before and after her, but when her dark self finally surfaced, I was surprised by how naturally we fit together.
Chad had risen first this evening and was already clearing the bodies from our living area — four or five at a time — carrying them toward the basement stairs for disposal.
Speak of the devil's daughter, and she appears: dragging her own dead body behind legs that seem to move slower than I age. Barely conscious, she makes her way down the long, straight staircase at the back of the room.
"So, the birthday girl remains among the living dead?" I yell to her, mocking the hangover I know she must be pushing aside.
"Brax, I remember last night. Don't try and act like you didn't see who and how much I had to drink." Her words stumble out and hit the floor like lead.
"My honest apologies, my dear girl. Any plans for the day, or are you and the holograms going to hibernate the back half-life of the NARCO-ALCO-HEMO globen you managed to embalm your bodies with last night?"
I may have misjudged my volume a tad, but that did not stop the smirk on my face from flashing like a new penny in a storm drain.
"I think—no, no thinking today, murr murr murr… most of the day upstairs." She manages to enunciate most of it, and I care too much about her to repeat what she fails to get out.
"Any special meal requests I should relay to Chad when I see him?" I ask, curious if she has any idea what she might want to eat tonight. I have always had a weakness for O-negative. Even if the host stuffs themselves with junk and trash, that blood type keeps its flavor no matter how poorly the body is treated.
As Kara reaches the bottom of the stairs, she looks up at me with big gray eyes — as if asking me to take it all away. To be honest, I am not entirely sure that I would, even if I could. I love her to death — and clearly I have — but she must learn that even in death, there is a price to be paid for everything.
Even on a cosmic level.
I could take it away, but the tax would come from somewhere else. It is better to let her ride it out and earn her lesson. Besides, I have already gotten her a gift. I was going to wait for her to feel better, but maybe a jolt of adrenaline is exactly what she needs to flush the poison from her system.
"I was going to wait until later tonight to give you your present," I tell her, "but maybe we can just do it now between us."
"Oh yes, please. I am sure whatever you have would be just the thing to get me up and flying again."
She turns her back to me, slowly grinding her hips against my groin. Clever girl. Yet in her current state, it's almost like watching a homeless woman attempt seduction. Sexy, yes, but also a touch tragic — the whitewashing of hilarity against the backdrop of decay. She looks more like a zombie than a vampire.
"Yes, yes. I will get it. You know bribes do not work on me, girl. That little grind you do will not get you your gift any sooner," I say, looking down at her from the tops of my eyes.
"That was no bribe; that was a sneak preview. You haven't forgotten what happens to my libido after a night like last night, have you?" she says, a hint of concern in her voice.
"No, my dear. You are forever burned into my memory for the remainder of my years. Here you are. Do not attempt to lift this in your current state; it is quite heavy."
I bring out a box from behind the large pedestal near one of the couches.
"Seriously, Brax? I REALLY must look bad. I AM still a vampire. Unless that thing weighs as much as a semi, I doubt I'll have trouble with it," she says in a tone that reminds me of a sixteen-year-old.
She tears through the wrapping like a wildcat shredding its prey to reach the prize within. Beneath the paper lies an old wooden box, weathered by time and the elements. Handcrafted metal guards protect each corner, and in the center rests a large dial beside a diamond-encrusted silver handle wrapped in leather that vanishes into the box itself. The top is stained in strange colors — remnants of moss, blood, and centuries of wax — marking the long life of this relic.
"What isssss ittttttt?" she asks, her voice pure childlike curiosity.
"I guess you are just going to have to solve that dial to find out. Oh, and be careful of the handle, my love. It is pure silver. I was told the dial is safe for you, but once you open it, use a glove or something. I would hate for you to burn your lovely fingers on a gift meant to please you," I caution.
"Do you know how to open it?" she asks, impatience and leftover regret thick in her voice.
"I do not. I had hoped that once you are able to open it, it would add to the value of the gift inside. Nothing worth having is gotten easily, love."
"The girls are still sleeping, so I want to play down here for a while," she says, nodding in affirmation.
I do know what is inside, but I want to see her reaction when she realizes what she now owns.
Kara spends the next couple of hours spinning the dial on the box, forwards and backwards, testing each turn to see if she can unlock its secrets. She becomes so engrossed that her modest cohorts crawl from the caskets they occupied during the day to watch their dark mistress work after such a reckless night.
Chad returns from cleaning up the "party favors" left behind. I greet him, and he gives the standard nod he reserves for me each night. He carries a steel tray with warm bags of blood. In our subbasement beneath the basement, we keep live O-negative humans. We feed them through IVs until they expire naturally. This is far superior to harvesting strangers every night. The blood may not be as fresh in an inactive body, but it is infinitely better than cow blood or any other substitute. Animal blood keeps us alive, but it is like trading fresh-baked bread for hard, dry prison bread.
Chad passes out the bags, each connected to a thin hose — the same type used for carbonated beverages in bars. Works perfectly for our purposes, and we have a steady supply through the club out back.
Jade furrows her brow as she watches Kara spin the knob of the box. She tilts her head slightly. "Wait a second! You guys hear that? Really listen. Kara, spin that thing again, but go slow."
Kara looks at her with puzzling excitement, unsure what Jade means.
"THERE! That click. No human could hear it. Listen closely; it clicks when she passes a certain spot!" Kara's face spreads into a sly grin as she zeroes in on the detail Jade pointed out. With each click, the girls' necks redden, and they paw at themselves, the excitement almost erotic. CLICK!
The final tumbler falls into place with a louder click, releasing the lid from the rest of the box, like letting go for the first time and surrendering to pure desire. Kara grips the top edges and slowly lifts it, revealing red silk that seems to float, untethered to the mortal plane.
Sonya picks up the silk, rubbing its soft, smooth surface across her neck, face, and chest, forgetting that it is only a veil for the real prize. Beneath it lies a tomb — a book. One of the oldest and darkest collections of forbidden magic and spells ever to see moonlight. Hidden by someone who deemed it too dangerous to use.
I kneel beside my alluring sorority of demonic submissives as Kara lifts the tomb. I touch her chin, turning her head to face me. She has my full attention.
"Do you remember that book? We talked about it last winter, the one with the Latin spells? You told me…" We finish in unison, "…I would give anything for absolute immortality."
"This is that book, Kara," I tell her, watching her expression for the reflection of her heart.
Her face is a mixture of total peace, absolute confusion, and childlike wonder. "Where did you find this thing?" she asks as the spine cracks beneath her fingers. The pages are made of animal or human material, penned in blood, faintly scented of something unidentifiable.
"I met a man through the mortuary who told me he had contacts dealing in rare books from a small shop in Austria. I reached out and described what I wanted. It took him a while, but last month he called to say he had found it. I was not entirely sure until you and Jade made it through the box. That dealer had better have been solid; I could have bought a small country for what it cost to track this down. I cannot wait to see what you do with it, baby. If I know you, it will be something no one else could even dream of." I hold back my pride for her, for all my girls.
Kara's eyes darken with a violent intensity I rarely see. She bares her teeth slightly and says, "If you thought what I did earlier was a bribe… when we are all at one hundred percent, that bribe will become a payoff a hundred times over. You have me shaking right now! We are going to fuck you straight through the subbasement into some other dimension. We are going to break your dick off and mmmm mmm mmmm mmm."
I cover her mouth. "We all follow where you go. Why do not you and the girls take that to the summoning circle in the library and play with it for a while? Build up some strength. I had Chad call everyone and tell them you girls will not be at work tonight. I want to go out to eat — me and my perfect ladies. We can discuss dessert on the way home. Maybe even have the first course in the car."
Chad rolls his eyes and smirks in disapproval before retreating to his room. Strange guy, but efficient.
The girls rise with a pep in their step, as if they just found the perfect prom dress they had saved all summer. They skip to the library, our well-lit room, the only one in the house with electricity. In the center is a basic summoning circle. Transparent laminates line the bottom of one wall like floor-level maps, ready to call forth anything desired. I designed it; Chad did most of the construction.
A round research table occupies a corner, where Kara, Jade, and Sonya sit until instructed it is time to leave for dinner. For show, of course. A small business owner should be seen in public doing "normal" things. Our club already has nicknames: LICK HER LOUNGE and THE MORMON MORGUE. Acting normal keeps attention off the family. Besides, the girls love to go out, even if they deny it. Observing them out in public, they behave like eighteen-year-olds. Even hard-ass Jade bobs her head, her wild hair swinging. I cannot help a little tickle in my belly seeing them enjoy themselves.
Before heading to the garage where Chad waits with the car, Kara turns to me. "Oh, I almost forgot. Last night, about halfway through the party, I was called down to the bar. A visitor. A man claiming to be my twin brother. He said he had been looking for me since I went missing twenty years ago. He noticed something off about my age. I told him you have access to the best plastic surgeons in the world, but I am not sure he bought it. You may want to check the CCTV to see what this could mean."
"Thank you, Kara, for bringing this to my attention," I reply, maintaining my usual control. "You are my greatest asset, baby. What would I ever do without you?"
My thoughts threaten to spiral, but I force them back into the box until I can assess the situation. We pile into the car, and Chad hits the breeze on our way to pose for the cattle.