“Enough with the tea. Just tell me what’s going on,” I begged, sitting down to reclaim my chair from Lucius. It wasn’t warm at all. Almost like no one had been there just moments before. “Anybody. Please. Fill me in.”
“As your parents wish, I will relinquish that duty to them,” Lucius conceded. He lifted his steaming mug to his lips, sipped, and shuddered. “Good god, that’s foul.”
Ignoring Lucius, Mom shared a knowing glance with my dad, like they had a secret. “Ned . . . what do you think?”
Apparently he understood what she was hinting at, because Dad nodded and said, “I’ll get the scroll,” then left the kitchen.
“Scroll?” Scrolls. Pacts. Brides. Why is everyone talking in code? “What scroll?”
“Oh, dear.” Mom sat in the chair next to mine and cradled my hands. “This is rather complicated.”
“Try,” I urged.
“You’ve always known that you are adopted from Romania,” Mom began. “And that your birth parents were killed in a village conflict.”
“Murdered by peasants,” Lucius scowled. “Superstitious people, given to forming vicious hordes.” He unscrewed the lid on Dad’s organic peanut butter, tested it, and wiped his finger on his pants, which were black and hugged his long legs, almost like riding breeches. “Please tell me there’s something palatable in this house.”
Mom turned to address Lucius. “I’m going to ask you to stay quiet for a few minutes while I tell the story.”
Lucius bowed slightly, his glossy blue-black hair gleaming under the kitchen lamp. “Of course. Continue.”
Mom returned her attention to me. “But we didn’t tell you the whole story, because the topic seemed to upset you so much.”
“Now might be a good time,” I suggested. “I couldn’t get much more upset.”
Mom sipped her tea and swallowed. “Yes, well, the truth is, your birth parents were destroyed by an angry mob trying to rid their village of vampires.”
“Vampires?” Surely she was joking.
“Yes,” Mom confirmed. “Vampires. Your parents were among the vampires I was studying at the time.”
Okay, now it was not uncommon to hear words like fairy or earth spirit or even troll in my house. I mean, folk culture and legends were my mom’s research interest, and my dad had been known to host the occasional “angel communication” seminar in his yoga studio. But surely even my flaky parents didn’t believe in Hollywood movie monsters. They couldn’t have honestly believed that my birth parents had turned into bats, or dissolved in sunlight, or grew big fangs. Could they?
“You said you were studying some sort of cult,” I countered. “A subculture that had some unusual rituals . . . but you never said anything about vampires.”
“You have always been very logical, Jessica,” Mom said. “You do not like things that cannot be explained by math or science. Your father and I were afraid the truth about your birth parents might deeply disturb you. So we kept things . . . vague.”
“You’re saying my birth parents actually thought they were vampires?” I sort of yelped.
Mom nodded. “Well . . . yes.”
“They didn’t just think they were vampires,” Lucius grumbled. He’d retrieved his boot and was hopping around on one foot, attempting to pull it on. “They were vampires.”
As I gawked at our guest in disbelief, the most disgusting thought in the world crossed my mind. Those rituals my mom had alluded to, related to my birth parents . . . “They didn’t . . . actually drink blood . . .”
The expression on Mom’s face said it all, and I thought I might pass out. My birth parents: deviant, disturbed blood drinkers.
“Tasty, tasty, stuff,” Lucius commented. “You wouldn’t, perchance, have any here, in lieu of this tea—”
Mom shot him a look.
Lucius frowned. “No. I suppose not.”
“People do not drink blood,” I insisted, my voice spiking kind of high. “And vampires do not exist!”
Lucius crossed his arms, glowering. “Excuse me. I’m right here.”
“Lucius, please,” Mom said in the calm but serious tone she reserved for hard-to-control students. “Give Jess time to process. She has an analytical bent that makes her resistant to the paranormal.”
“I’m resistant to the impossible,” I cried. “The unreal.”
At this low point, Dad returned with a mildewed scroll cradled in his hands. “Historically, a lot of people are resistant to the idea of the undead,” Dad noted, carefully placing the document on the table. “And the late 1980s were an especially lousy time for vampires in Romania. Big purges every few months. Lots of very nice vampires eliminated.”
“Your birth parents—who were quite powerful within their subculture—realized that they were likely marked for destruction and entrusted you to us before they were killed, hoping we could keep you safe in the United States,” Mom added.
“People don’t drink blood,” I repeated. “They don’t. You didn’t see my parents act like vampires, did you?” I challenged. “You never saw them grow fangs and bite necks? I know you didn’t. Because it didn’t happen.”
“No,” Mom admitted, taking my hands again. “We were not allowed that kind of access.”
“Because it didn’t happen,” I repeated.
“No,” Lucius interjected. “Because biting is very private, very intimate. You don’t just invite people to watch. Vampires are a sensual race but not given to exhibitionism, for god’s sake. We’re discreet.”
“But we have no reason to believe anyone lied to us about drinking blood,” Mom added. “And it’s nothing to be upset about, Jess. It was quite normal to them. Had you grown up in Romania in that subculture, it would have seemed ordinary to you, too.”
I yanked my hands away. “I really don’t think so.”
With a deep sigh, Lucius resumed pacing. “Honestly, I can’t stand this going around anymore. The story is quite simple. You, Antanasia, are the last of a long line of powerful vampires. The Dragomirs. Vampire royalty.”
Now that made me laugh, a squeaky, kind of hysterical laugh. “Vampire royalty. Right.”
“Yes. Royalty. And that is the last part of the story, which your parents still seem reluctant to relate.” Lucius leaned over the table across from me, bracing his arms, staring me down. “You are a vampire princess—the heir to the Dragomir leadership. I am a vampire prince. The heir to an equally powerful clan, the Vladescus. More powerful, I would say, but that’s not the point. We were pledged to each other in an engagement ceremony shortly after our births.”
I looked to my mom for help, but all she said was, “The ceremony was quite dramatic, very elaborate.”
“In an enormous cave in the Carpathians,” Dad added. “With candles everywhere.” He gazed at my mom with loving admiration. “No other outsider ever had such access.”
I glared at them. “You were there? At this ceremony?”
“Oh, we met lots of vampires on that trip and saw so many interesting cultural events.” Mom smiled a little, remembering. “You should read my research summary in the Journal of Eastern European Folk Culture. It was rather landmark insider work, if I do say so myself.”
“Let me finish, please,” Lucius grumbled.
“Easy there,” Dad chided gently. “In this little democracy, everybody gets a chance to speak.”
From the disdainful look Lucius shot my dad, I could tell he didn’t care much for democracy. The delusional Dracula wannabe resumed pacing. “The betrothal ceremony sealed our destinies, Antanasia. We are to be married soon after you come of age. Our bloodlines united, consolidating our clans’ strength and ending years of rivalry and warfare.” His black eyes gleamed, and his gaze drifted far away. “It shall be a glorious moment in our history, when we ascend to power. Five million vampires—your family, my family combined—all under our rule.” My so-called betrothed snapped back to reality and glanced at me, sniffing, “I’ll do all the ‘heavy lifting,’ of course, le
adership-wise.”
“You’re all insane,” I declared, staring from one face to the next. “This is crazy.”
Moving closer to me, Lucius crouched so we were face to face. For the first time, I saw curiosity, not disdain or mockery or raw power, in his dark eyes. “Would it be so repugnant, really, Antanasia? To be with me?”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I thought he was talking about . . . the two of us together, not in a bid for political power, but in a romantic way.
I didn’t say anything. Did Lucius Vladescu really think I would fall for him, just because he had a handsome face? A killer body? That I would care that he smelled like the sexiest, spiciest cologne I’d ever sniffed . . .
“Let’s show her the scroll,” Dad interrupted, breaking the moment.
“Yes, it’s time,” Mom agreed.
I had almost forgotten the musty paper, but now Dad sat down and carefully unrolled the scroll on the kitchen table. The brittle paper crackled as he smoothed it with gentle fingers. The words—Romanian, presumably—were unintelligible to me, but it looked like some sort of legal document, with lots of signatures at the bottom. I shifted my gaze, refusing to look any closer at a bunch of nonsense.
“I shall translate,” Lucius volunteered, standing up. “Unless, of course, Antanasia’s studied her Romanian?”
“It’s next on my to-do list,” I said through gritted teeth. Multilingual show-off.
“You would be wise to start learning, my future bride,” Lucius replied, edging even closer and leaning over my shoulder to read. I could feel his breath on my cheek. It was unnaturally cool, sweet. Against my better judgment, I kept inhaling that unusual cologne, too, drawing it deep into my lungs. Lucius was so close that my curly dark hair brushed his jaw, and he absently swept the stray locks away, the back of his fingers grazing my cheek. I jolted at the touch. The sensation hit me, right in the pit of my stomach.
If Lucius felt the same shock I did, he didn’t betray it as he focused intently on the document. Am I getting dizzy from sniffing cologne? Imagining things?
I shifted slightly in my chair, trying not to touch him again, as our arrogant visitor ran his finger beneath the first line of the scroll. “This declares that you, Antanasia Dragomir, are promised in marriage to me, Lucius Vladescu, shortly after the achievement of your maturity at the age of eighteen, and that all parties in witness agree to this covenant. And upon the marriage, our clans shall be united and at peace.” He leaned back. “As I said, it’s quite simple, really. And see: your adoptive father’s signature. And your mother’s.”
I couldn’t resist glancing when he said that, and sure enough, Mom and Dad’s scrawled signatures were on the document, amid dozens of unfamiliar Romanian names. Traitors. Shoving the scroll away, I crossed my arms and glared at my parents. “How could you promise me away like . . . like . . . a prize cow?”
“We didn’t ‘promise you away,’ Jessica,” Mom soothed. “You weren’t our daughter then. We were merely there to witness a unique ritual, in the interest of my research. This was weeks before the purge, weeks before we adopted you. We had no idea what the future held for any of us.”
“Besides, no one promises cows,” Lucius scoffed. “Who would promise cattle? You are a vampire princess. Your destiny is not entirely your own.”
Princess . . . He honestly thinks I’m a vampire princess. . . . The strange, almost pleasurable, sensation I’d felt when he’d brushed my cheek was forgotten as reality hit me again. Lucius Vladescu was a lunatic.
“If I were a vampire, I’d want to bite someone. I’d be thirsty for blood,” I said in a last ditch attempt to interject reason into a discussion that had devolved into the absurd.
“You will come into your true nature,” Lucius promised. “You are coming of age right now. And when I bite you for the first time, then you will be a vampire. I’ve brought you a book—a guide, so to speak—which will explain everything—”
I stood up so fast my chair tipped over, smashing to the floor. “He is not going to bite me,” I interrupted, pointing a shaky finger at Lucius. “And I’m not going to Romania and marrying him! I don’t care what kind of ‘betrothal ceremony’ they had!”
“You will all honor the pact,” Lucius growled. It wasn’t a suggestion.
“Now don’t get dictatorial on us, Lucius,” Dad urged, kicking back in his chair and stroking his beard. “I told you. This is a democracy. Let’s just all just take a deep breath. Like Ghandi said, ‘We must become the change we want to see.’”
Lucius had clearly never grappled with a master of passive resistance before, because he seemed genuinely caught off-balance by Dad’s firm, yet mellow, and totally off-kilter, assessment of the situation. “What does that even mean?” he finally asked.
“No one’s making any decisions today,” Mom translated. “It’s late, and we’re all tired and a little overwhelmed. Besides, Lucius, Jessica is not ready to contemplate marriage. She hasn’t even kissed a boy yet, for goodness’ sake.”
Lucius smirked at me, raising one eyebrow. “Really? No suitors? How shocking. I would have thought your pitchfork skills would be attractive to certain bachelors here in farm country.”
I wanted to die. Die right there. I wanted to run to the knife drawer, grab the biggest blade I could find, and plunge it into my heart. To be exposed as never even being kissed . . . it was almost worse than being a vampire princess. The vampire thing was a ridiculous fantasy, but my total lack of experience . . . that was real. “Mom! That is so embarrassing! Did you have to tell him that?”
“Well, Jessica, it’s true. I don’t want Lucius thinking you’re some sort of experienced young woman, ready for marriage.”
“I shan’t take advantage,” Lucius promised seriously. “And she can’t be forced into a marriage, of course. It is a new century. Unfortunately. But I am afraid that I am compelled to pursue this courtship until Antanasia realizes her place at my side. As she will.”
“I will not.”
Lucius totally brushed this off. “The linkage of our clans is mandated by the oldest, most powerful members: the Elders of the Vladescu and Dragomir families. And the Elders always get their way.”
Mom stood. “It will be Jessica’s decision, Lucius.”
“Of course.” The condescending half-smile on Lucius’s face said otherwise, though. “Now where shall I stay?”
“Stay?” Dad blinked, confused.
“Yes. Sleep,” Lucius clarified. “I’ve had a long journey, endured my first stultifying day at the so-called public school here, and I am weary.”
“You’re not going back to school,” I objected, panicking. I’d forgotten about school. “You just can’t!”
“Of course I shall attend school,” Lucius replied.
“How did you enroll?” Mom asked.
“I’m here on what’s called a ‘student visa,’” Lucius explained. “The Elders thought it would be difficult to explain my extended presence here otherwise. Vampires don’t like to raise suspicions, as you can imagine. We like to blend in.”
Blend in? In a velvet topcoat in summer? In Lebanon County, Pennsylvania? The conservative, bologna-making heart of the state’s farm country, where sturdy people of Germanic descent still think pierced ears are radical and possibly portals to hell?
“You’re really a foreign exchange student?” Dad was frowning.
“Yes. Your foreign exchange student, to be exact,” Lucius clarified.
Mom raised a cautionary hand. “We never agreed to that.”
“Yeah,” Dad added. “Wouldn’t we have to sign something? Isn’t there paperwork?”
Lucius laughed. “Oh, paperwork. A small detail worked out in Romania. No one with any good sense turns down a request from the Vladescu clan. It’s just bad form. And the consequences of refusing us a favor . . . well, let’s just say that people everywhere tend to stick their necks out for us.”
“Lucius, you should have consulted with us first,” Mom object
ed.
Lucius’s shoulders slumped, but just slightly. “Yes. Well, perhaps we did overstep our bounds there. But you must admit, you are honor bound to welcome me. You knew this day—and I—would arrive.”
Dad cleared his throat and looked at Mom. “We did promise the Dragomirs years ago that when the time came—”
“Oh, Ned, I don’t know. We need to consider Jessica’s feelings . . .”
“You made an oath to my family,” Lucius reminded them again. “Besides, I have nowhere else to go. I will not return to the so-called country inn downtown where I slept last night. The room had a pig theme, for god’s sake. Pig wallpaper, pig tchotchkes everywhere. And a Vladescu does not slumber with swine.”
Mom sighed, laying her hands on my shoulders reassuringly. “I suppose for now, Lucius can stay in the guest apartment above the garage while we figure things out. Okay, Jessie? It’s just temporary, I’m sure.”
“Hey, it’s your farm,” I mumbled, knowing I was defeated. My parents always took in strays. Nasty cats, nippy dogs . . . if it was homeless, it could live on our farm, even if it threatened to bite you.
And that is how a teenager who claimed to be a vampire came to reside in our garage at the start of my once-in-a-lifetime senior year. And not just any vampire. My arrogant, overbearing vampire betrothed. The last person in hell—or from hell—I wanted to share a ride to school with, even, let alone be bound to for eternity.
I lay awake half the night thinking about my ruined life. My birth parents: cult members who swore they drank blood—and whom I’d try never, ever to think of again. There was nothing I could do about them now except put them out of my mind. Their story could—and would—remain hidden in the past.
But the future . . . all I’d wanted was a chance to go out with Jake Zinn, a normal guy, and instead I’d gotten a freakish fiancé, right in my garage. As if everyone at school didn’t already think my family was bizarre enough, with Dad’s yoga and his unproductive, organic, anti-meat farm, and my mom being the breadwinner, studying make-believe mumbo jumbo. Now . . . now I would really be a pariah. The high school girl engaged to the ghoul.