A Dance at Midnight
A dance at midnight

The humans slept, the covers pulled up to their chins. Senar was rather jealous of the fact that they could sleep, and so soundly, too. Then again, they were sedated. Still, sedatives didn’t work on Senar, she’d tried.

She clenched the glass bottle in her hand. She had come straight from the hospital where she’d met with Dr. Owen Hart, her new hematopathologist, who was a baby-faced doctor who looked as if his clothes hung on him to dry.

After getting through the formalities, she’d asked him for something that wouldn’t harm humans but would affect vampires; she’d thought he’d have questions, but he’d simply brought out the glass bottle that Senar held now.

“Only one drop per human,” he’d told her. “If you’re feeling mischievous, then you can do two drops, but more than that, and the vampire will want his money back.” He’d chortled at that.

Senar handed the glass bottle to Henry. “One drop,” she said. “However way you can.”

Henry took the bottle and pocketed it. “One drop,” he said. He bowed and turned on his heel.

The humans continued to sleep. Even though they were here against their will, they looked...peaceful. I won’t let any of you get hurt, Senar silently promised them before leaving the room.

Back outside the house, she climbed into the car. She breathed in deeply. She trusted Henry, but could she trust the new doctor? She had been vague about her request, but he also hadn’t asked any follow-up questions. Did he know what she was up to? Was what he’d given her going to work at all?

“Just drive.” She turned on the engine, and with a final glance toward the house, she rolled out of the driveway.

Mina was waiting for her when she walked up the back steps of the mansion. “Mistress!” she said, “how did it go?”

“As well as it could have,” Senar told the maid.

Mina nodded. “Come in, I have everything ready for you.”

Perhaps it was Senar’s frayed nerves, but the bathwater was too hot, the massage was painful, and the comb snagged at her hair. The fabric of the dress that Mina had picked out - a royal purple number that had been custom-made - scratched Senar’s skin, and all the lotions and oils and perfumes made her cough.

Three hours later, Senar was finished. She carefully settled herself in front of the vanity. She opened up one of the drawers and took out the vial, the one that Dr. Morrow had given her days earlier. Against the candlelight, the blood inside swirled around lazily.

She caught Henry and Mina’s reflections in the mirror. She set down the vial. “As soon as I go down those stairs, I want you both to leave,” she said.

“‘Leave,’ Mistress?” Mina asked.

“Far away from here. Run as fast as you can, and don’t look back.” Senar carefully regarded them. “They know about me.” Like she’d thought, neither Henry nor Mina looked surprised.

“We can’t just leave you here, Senar,” Henry said.

“Mistress, it’s too dangerous for you,” Mina agreed.

Senar stood up from her seat and faced them. “And it’s certain death for you two if you don’t do as I say,” she said.

Mina lowered her head. Henry, though, held her gaze. “Respectfully, I can’t do that, Senar.”

“If you respect me at all,” she said, “you will.”

“You’ll die,” he said. Beside him, Mina sucked in a breath.

“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it’s less dangerous for me here than it is for you.”

Henry’s green eyes glimmered. He bent at the waist. “As you wish, Senar.” Next to him, Mina sniffled, but she retained her composure.

In that moment, Senar realized that she’d been wrong: she may not have Jihwa or Hajoon or Dr. Morrow or even her old life anymore, but she did have something left to live for: Henry and Mina. Elias. Evangeline. Hell, even Dr. Hart.

And Adrian. Senar didn’t know exactly what she felt for The Bleeder, but she knew that it was something deep, something genuine, that scared her but also gave her strength.

Her heart suddenly full, she swallowed down the block in her throat. She smiled at Henry and Mina. “Good,” Senar said. “Now,” she lifted the layers of her skirt, “this dress isn’t going to walk itself.”

Mina came forward and readjusted the layers of the skirt while Henry brought up the rear. Senar left the room first but backtracked a step. “Wait,” she said.

“What is it, Senar?” Henry asked.

“The blood,” she said. “It’s on the vanity.”

“It’s not on the vanity.”

“Try the bedside table. Mina, go help Henry. I need that blood.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

As soon as Henry and Mina were safely inside the room, Senar snatched her heavy skirt behind her and slammed the door shut. Henry and Mina cried out, but it was too late: Senar had already locked the door.

“Senar, you can’t do this!” Henry said, his fist pounding on the door.

“Mistress, it’s not safe for you out there!” Mina sobbed.

Senar ignored them, though her heartbeat was like a staccato in her ears. She brought out her hand from the folds of her dress. She uncapped the vial. In the darkness, the blood resembled black oil.

She drank all of it.

The clock struck midnight. Senar didn’t hear it - the music was too loud - but she saw it: the sharp black needle of the hour hand ticked to the curlicued digit and stayed there for twelve breaths.

The vampiric string quartet at the front of the room played Brahms. Her guests moved to the music, their skirts twirling around their legs and their polished leather shoes scuffing the glossy hardwood floor.

All the cushions, sofas, divans, and rugs had been pushed to the edges of the room. Some of the vampires lounged there, goblets of blood in slender hands while others lay with their heads buried in the necks of their donatori.

A tiny breeze flowed in from the windows, but it wasn’t enough to combat the cloying metallic blood scents, the crescendoing violins, and the stretching shadows that seemed to want to swallow Senar and entrap her in its suffocating embrace forever.

A sharp pain stabbed her temples at the same time a wave of nausea made her sway. No, not here, not now. She reached out to grip the table, but she miscalculated the distance; the dizziness was too much, the room slanted sideways - she clenched her eyes shut -

- a strong hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her up in one sweeping motion.

Senar cracked open her eyelids. Adrian peered down at her, a smirk light on his lips.

“I never knew you were such a klutz,” he said.

She frowned. “Is this what you say to someone who loses their balance?” A quick scan of the room told her that no one had noticed her near-accident. From the way Adrian was positioned, too, helped block her from prying eyes.

“Is that how you thank someone who saves you from falling on your face?”

Senar was acutely aware of his cold hand splayed against her back - how firm Adrian’s body was against hers, how his natural scent of spring water and wood fire calmed her thudding heart, how searing his eye contact was as if he were trying to memorize her every detail.

She supposed she was doing the same thing to him. Tonight was the Bleeding Ball, the day they’d both been anxiously waiting for, and in just a few hours’ time, their fates were going to be determined.

“I already thanked you,” she told him, thinking about when he’d pushed Elias off the balcony.

Adrian guided her into the dancing fray. “I’m getting a little tired of constantly saving your life, you know,” he said. There was a twinkle in his eye, but she scoffed.

She spun, her hand in his. “I’d done perfectly fine without you, thank you,” she said.

He tugged her back toward him, and their bodies collided. Her breath knocked out of her and not necessarily because of the impact. “You’re welcome,” he said. His eyes flicked down to her lips. “Now, was that so hard?”

“Yes,” she said.

He laughed, and the sound was a welcome one. He leaned in; her heartbeat ratcheted up, and Senar cursed inwardly: he could definitely hear it, and it wasn’t fair. His breath tickled her ear as he said, “You look stunning tonight. As always.”

The royal purple ball gown sported a sweetheart neckline that cinched at the waist and billowed out in layers of silk, taffeta, and tulle. She had wanted to go for something more neutral, but Mina had chosen this one weeks in advance, and she hadn’t wanted to hurt the girl’s feelings. Granted, once she’d put it on, she’d understood why Mina had chosen it.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Senar said to Adrian.

The older vampire was dressed in a sharp classic tux that accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs. His hair was lightly gelled, away from his forehead, and the platinum of his watch glinted like the shine of a mammal’s eye.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “I look fantastic.”

She sighed. They continued to dance, their movements fluid and to the beat. Their bodies fit perfectly together, warm against cold, hard lines against smooth curves. Adrian didn’t look away from Senar, and neither did she.

After what felt like both a minute and an eternity, violins, viola, and cello came together as one. The final note lingered in the air, and thundering applause for the quartet filled the room.

He let her go; his fingers lingered on hers. She swallowed; he gave her the smallest of nods.

With that simple gesture, confidence set into her shoulders. Senar held her head high and made her way to the front of the room. She allowed the applause to go on for as long as it needed to; in fact, she would allow the applause to go on forever if it meant she could avoid doing this next part.

Alas, it didn’t. Eventually, the room quieted, and everyone’s eyes snapped to her. She steeled herself; she slowed her heartbeat until it was nothing more than silence, and she leveled her features so they would reflect nothing more than a friendly smile and a polite chuckle.

“Everyone,” she said; her voice traveled to every shadow in the room, “we have made it. The Bleeding Ball is here!”

The applause this time was raucous as the other vampires hooted and whooped like hungry beasts. Fear pricked inside her, but Senar shoved it down.

She continued, “This past week has been nothing but a joy and an honor as I got to share it with all of you.” She wanted to laugh out loud at the lie. “To express my undying gratitude for your company, I have prepared a special gift for you all.” She stepped over to the tall velvet-covered box that stood in the darkest corner of the room.

With a dramatic flourish, Senar grabbed the ends of the velvet. In one swish, the velvet fell, revealing a cage with thick blackened iron bars. Inside the cage were humans. One hundred of them.

Their eyes were wide with fear, and their bodies shook as they held each other. Their hair had been expertly brushed and styled, and they had been dressed in clean clothes, tailored to each of their individual measurements.

Senar forced herself to focus on her audience. She put on her best smile. The room buzzed with noise, and the vampires practically vibrated with thirst. With her voice as loud and clear as it had ever been, she said, “I wanted to bring the hunt to you.”

“Mistress Kill, you are truly a goddess among gods!”

“We have been blessed!”

“How can we ever thank you?”

Everyone sung their praises about her, but they all went into one ear and slid out the other. Senar unlocked the door of the cage.

The humans didn’t step out. She couldn’t blame them: the vampires crowded around them like a bunch of feral animals. Sharp fangs gleamed, and saliva dripped down bloody chins.

Disgusting.

And yet, her inner voice sang, you’re one of them.

Anger, that familiar, comforting anger, fueled Senar’s next words. “Everyone, please, let’s not scare them off on this special day now.” The vampires backed off but only slightly.

She grabbed the arm of each human and pulled them out as gently as she could. It was a slow process, but the vampires behaved themselves. Finally, the cage was empty.

The anger still simmered inside Senar, but she kept it at bay. She forced her fangs out; her gums tore, and blood flooded her mouth. She swallowed it quickly. “No limits, no restrictions, and,” her lips curved into a grin, “no rules.”

This time, the cheers were deafening. Worse, her dizziness was coming back again. She met Adrian’s eyes in the crowd, and he wove through, closer to her.

Before he could get to her, though, Master Dane’s voice rose among the rest. “Why don’t you have the first taste, Mistress Senar?”