She was right. I couldn't turn my head without seeing vampires, or scenting the tangy copper of human blood. My stomach churned uncomfortably. It seemed everyone in the castle was having fun except me.
"Yes, I suppose it is 'popping off', as you say," I mumbled with added air quotes.
She rolled her eyes. "Do you really have to talk like you're a hundred years old?"
"I am a hundred years old. And so are you."
"Doesn't mean I can't change. C'mon, say it with me. This party's lit."
"I would rather not."
Mallory sighed as she hung off my shoulder like a coat tossed haphazardly on a rack. "You're such a tired old vamp, Malachi."
"Sorry you do not find me amusing."
"It's not that. I want you to have fun, too," she insisted. "Look, tell me what you want and I'll make it happen."
"I want therenotto be a giant, heathenish party in my home."
"Dude, it's Friday night. That's literally the ideal time to have a giant, heathenish house party. Let me guess, you'd rather be curled up in a dark, silent room reading William Faulkner."
I opened my mouth for a rebuttal but her accusation was spot on.
"And what about it?" I grumbled.
"Reading is great. I'm not saying it's not. But it doesn't have to be the only thing you do! Look around you, Malachi. Everyone's having a great time—humans included."
I winced. That was the problem. Out of all the world's mysteries, masochistic humans who got off on having their blood drained was the greatest. Instead of being terrified and running away from the bloodthirsty abominations of nature, they flocked toThe Bat Denin droves, willingly signing up to be a food source.
That was the only reason I didn't shut down Mallory's idea when she proposed it. Although I vehemently disagreed with the practice of drinking blood, her concept had a focus on consent. Only humans who signed a waiver and knew the risks could attend her 'parties.' As much as it pained me to admit it,The Bat Denprovided a crucial service for the vampire community. Vampires, unfortunately, must feed, just like every other creature. My sister's club gave them a safe, consensual place to do so.
I shuddered to think of the alternative, like picking innocent humans to bleed dry in the street...
Obviously, killing humans was strictly forbidden. Vampires here were only allowed to drain a safe amount of blood before stopping themselves, or being forcibly stopped by the sober vampire helpers watching every 'scene'. The helpers often remained in a different form—a bat clinging to the ceiling, or mist floating above—so as to remain invisible and not interrupt the guests.
All in all, I had to admit it wasn't the worst concept in the world. Vampires and humans alike got what they wanted here: vampires got to feed and humans got their fantasy fulfilled.
There was also the element of sexual gratification, but I tried my best not to think about that tidbit. The patrons were free to do whatever they wished, but I was completely uninterested in sex with random parties. I was holding out for my fated mate, which was something Mallory liked to tease me about.
"Are you still hung up about the blood thing?" Mallory asked when I didn't respond.
"Yes, but I'm aware it's none of my business. People are free to do whatever they want with their own bodies."
Mallory smiled, her fangs poking out below her red lipstick. "Hey, thanks for being open-minded about this. I know it's not your thing, but I appreciate you letting me use the house to host the club."
"You're welcome."
"Guess I'll leave you to your brooding. Unless you wanna lighten up and have adrink?" she teased.
"If your dreams of being a vampire dominatrix don't work out, you should consider a career in comedy."
Mallory cackled. "Okay, I get it. Leaving!"
She slithered through the crowd to hunt down her next willing victim. I sighed as I watched her go, mingling so confidently. If we hadn't been siblings before both being turned, I would've wondered if we were even related.
The thumping noise and constant chatter was giving me a headache. I needed a drink, but not the kind Mallory suggested. I strode into the kitchen where a pair were making an imaginary vampire pornography tape right on top of my marble counter top (actual photography was banned, of course).
I willfully ignored them as I opened the fridge. It was empty except for my blood substitute packets. Since I refused to drink blood, human or animal, I was stuck with this sad excuse for sustenance. It was expensive to manufacture, tasteless, and never quite filling. And unlike the humans who compared tofu to meat, at least they could put sauce on the former. I had to drink this sorry liquid straight.
