《My housemate is a vampire!》 My perfectly normal city life My new house was a second-storey duplex in a whole street of terrace complexes. I had felt a bit homesick since I had got to the city for greenery, but honeysuckle vines grew round the iron staircase that led up to my door, and the sweet scent of them made everything feel less alien. I looked out from the balcony as my new landlord opened the door for me. The land didn''t stretch out like I was used to, but it all belonged to so many different people, and the balcony washing lines and distant glint of the city looked like freedom. "Eric, your new housemate is here!" my landlord yelled through the door. After a minute, my landlord shrugged. "His room is the one to the left of the kitchen. Yours is the room beyond it. Enjoy." "Thank you," I said, and watched my landlord walk down to the street, his feet clanging on the occasional loose step. I took a breath, and walked in, taking the key from the door and putting it on my keyring. The apartment opened up into a lounge space, with a wall jutting out from the corner. That would be my housemate''s room, I guessed. His door was in a small corridor that led to the back balcony, and past a locked gate down to the small courtyard that belonged to the ground floor renters, not us. They were growing vegetables down there, in cute little rows. Beyond the lounge was the kitchen, laundry, and bathroom, which all kind of flowed into each other, minimising plumbing requirements I guess. My own room was beyond. It was furnished with a single bed with an old mattress, and one wooden chair. The landlord had said it came with a desk as well, but maybe my housemate had moved it somewhere. The place was covered in a thick layer of dust. It was obvious that nobody had come into the room in a long time. I dumped my stuff in the loungeroom, and found the vacuum cleaner. After cleaning my room, there wasn''t time to go grocery shopping, so I reluctantly microwaved the pie my aunt had baked me for a going away present, and ate that for dinner. My aunt has a lot of talents, but baking food fit for human consumption isn''t one of them. I am sure it was nutritious, though. The sun set, and finally my housemate made an appearance. He had been in his room all along. I hoped I hadn''t woken him up with my vacuuming. He was a short goth kid, with dark circles under his eyes and platform shoes. "Hello," I said to him. "Hello," he replied, and walked out of the house before I could introduce myself. How rude. Maybe I had woken him up after all. It still early, but I was tired out with all the travelling I had done that day. I arranged my stuff a bit in my room, then fell asleep. I still had a day left before term began, so I spent the next day shopping for groceries, notebooks, and stuff I found I''d need now I''d seen my living area. I got my notebooks and a folding table from a discount shop, and after looking for about an hour I found a grocery store for my food. When I came back into the flat, I found that the only other thing in the fridge was a pile of foil packages, like what those fancy soups are sold in. Most of those were called "Ot", which perhaps was a foreign brand, because I''d never heard of it. Maybe my housemate was really into health shakes? I hoped he at least ate out sometimes. My uncle had told me once you can do yourself a mischief, only drinking shakes long term. I didn''t see my housemate all day, but he came out at sunset. "I didn''t wake you up or anything, moving around?" I asked. "Nah, I sleep like the dead," he said. "Are you nocturnal or something?" "Yeah." "Okay." We paused, looking at each other. "I don''t know if our landlord told you, but I''m The." "Eric," Eric said, nodding. He walked out of the house. There was literally no point in having a smartphone where I grew up, because we''re in a weird valley area within two hills and we have no phone reception at all, unless you climb up half the mountain. We had internet in the house, but it was super slow. Almost everything at uni, though, was on apps: the maps, the course outlines, the timetables. After school I found a place that sold phones, and the sales talk was so pushy compared to what I was used to I literally ran away. I was super embarrassed about that, and vowed never to go to a store again. I did ask Eric about phones when he emerged from his lair, and he delayed going out to help me buy one, plus a good prepaid sim on the internet. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "You want one with lots of data, unless you want to buy extra internet for the house." Eric said. "Is it worth getting more than what my phone has?" "Your phone only has so much data per month. Not enough for, like, streaming and stuff. If you wanted I guess you can also use the downstairs guy''s password. They don''t mind, but it''s really slow. I can download updates, patches, and DLCs, but it''s pretty useless for anything else," Eric said. "Do you have your own internet?" I asked. "Yeah, but you''ll never guess the password." He grinned. His teeth were very white and long. My phone arrived a few days later, and I may have got slightly addicted to it after a week. It was like a little computer you could just carry around with you all the time, and I found some pretty cool blogs. There was a cooking one I really liked, and I got into the habit of picking up ingredients from the grocery store on my way back home to try recipes out for dinner. "Is that ginger stir fry?" Eric asked once. "Yeah. Want some?" I asked, having made too much as usual. "Nah, can''t. Like the smell, though," Eric said, and disappeared into the night. I had never really lived with someone before (aunts and uncles don''t count), but as I got more and more homework and so stayed up later and later, I began to think there might be something a bit odd about my housemate. For one thing, he had the habit of drinking his health shakes by biting the packet and sucking the shake out by the holes made by his teeth. For another, he walked oddly, almost like he was skating rather than walking. Once he came out of his room without his platforms on, and I swear he was actually hovering above the ground. That could have been my eyes though, since I had been marathoning a movie series someone at school had recommended for four hours by then. Once, my housemate woke me up because he had a friend over. "Can you invite him in?" Eric asked. "Ugh," I said, stumbling to the front door, then, "Come in," to the goth guy standing in the doorway. He stepped through. "Thanks," Eric said, and he and his friend disappeared into his room. "What, is your friend a vampire or something?" I asked him the evening after. "So am I," Eric replied. "Huh," I said. "Well, that makes sense." "You''re not going to freak, are you?" Eric asked cautiously. I considered it for a moment. My aunthad warned me things would be different in the city. "Nah," I said, and went back to doing my homework. Things didn''t really change after that, although Eric was more comfortable wandering around the house without his platforms on. He really did hover about ten centimetres off the floor. "Does that mean you never trip over?" I asked. "I''ve tripped over on the stairs once," Eric said. "Because I don''t reach the floor, I couldn''t catch myself until I''d reached the bottom." "Ouch," I said. "Nah," he said, shrugging. "It takes more than that to hurt the undead." The end of summer came, and like some kind of lizard, Eric became more sleepy as the weather got colder. "I''ll adjust to it soon," he said once, when I asked if he was okay when he walked into the doorframe, bashing his head. "We only sleep when the sun''s out. In Greenland, apparently we stop sleeping altogether for a few months." "And you''ll adjust to it," I said, dubiously, watching him trip over the back of the couch. He settled slightly above the cushions. "Yeah, it''s just the sleep/food ratio that I need to figure out." "I have noticed that you''re more hungry at the moment," I said. Those days Eric went straight to the fridge at sunset, rather than straight out the door. "In Greenland, the other half of the year we just eat constantly, basically," Eric said. He paused. "That''s why there aren''t many vampires in Greenland." It was this increased hunger and decreased awareness that caused all the commotion in the end. I was figuring out what was in the fridge for dinner, when the sun set. Eric came stumbling out of his room, looking particularly bad this time. His eyes were puffy slits. I figured out after he was basically navigating via smell. "Fooooooooood," he said. Without looking, I grabbed one of his Ot bags, and held it out. I felt a sharp pain. "That''s my hand, not the bag," I told him, wrenching my hand back. "Oh, shit," he said. "It''s not that bad," I said, looking at the neat holes in my hand. "Oh shit!" Eric repeated, looking panicked. I fell unconscious to the floor. Enthralling supernatural business I came to on the kitchen floor, Eric hovering nervously above me. "Are you alright?" he asked. "I think I hit my head," I said. He helped me up and gave me some paracetamol. "We''re in so much trouble," Eric said. I noticed his hands were shaking. "You''d better tell me what''s up," I said, moving to the lounge. "My hand doesn''t hurt that much, but are there really strict rules on this, or something?" "What do you know about what happens when a vampire bites a human?" Eric asked, sitting nervously cross-legged above the back of the couch. "Nothing?" "Guess again." "...I get turned into a vampire?" I guessed, horror seeping into my mind. "No, not unless you drink my blood. If only I drink your blood, you turn into a thrall." "I don''t know what that is, but it doesn''t sound enthralling," I said. "It means you''ll do whatever I tell you to do." "Oh. Well, you could promise to not--" "And nothing else." "Oh." I digested this for a while. "And you are sure that this will happen?" "Yes. Your hand isn''t bleeding, that''s always a bad sign." "Uh, how much time do I have?" "A few weeks. There are alternatives, though." "You might have started with that," I said, letting out a breath. "What are these alternatives to becoming your automaton?" "The first is for you to become a vampire," Eric began with. "I don''t want to be a vampire," I said hurriedly. "I don''t want you to be one, either," Eric said. I didn''t know what to feel about that. "The second is to form a pact with a vampire that isn''t me." "A pact?" "You drink their blood, a small enough amount that you don''t turn into a vampire or anything, but you get protected from getting enthralled." "And what does the vampire get in return?" "The ability to track you, and whatever you bargained to do in exchange for the pact, I guess." "So we can get one of your vampire friends to help us out?" I asked. "I''d prefer they didn''t know," Eric said quietly. "Okay, would you trust anyone who wasn''t your friend?" "...That''s a point," Eric said. "Sorry. Yes. If I''m not going to lie about it forever, I''m going to have to face up to it sometime anyway." "And it was a genuine accident," I said. "How badly could they possibly take it?" After the third vampire we went to, Eric had learnt how to stop bursting into tears at the lectures they gave him. "Maybe your friends aren''t the best people to ask," I said to him. "They seem to be a bit judgemental." "They''re right, I am a monster," Eric said dully. "They''re just very emotionally invested in, I don''t know what you''d call it, your moral health? Maybe we should try someone who would judge you less for it. A trustworthy acquaintance?" "That''s what I said before," Eric muttered to himself. "I must say, I don''t care for your friends'' moral health," I said primly. "You''d think that even if they disapproved of your actions, they''d have helped you out. Or helped me out, at least!" "I''m not sure they thought of it that way," Eric said. "Well, they should! If a poor sick person came up to you and asked for help, and you were one of the only people who could help them, and it would cost you hardly anything to do so, wouldn''t you help?" "I guess," Eric said. "You see? I bet if I did become a thrall they''d blame it on you rather than themselves, too." "Well, yes, but I was the one who bit you." "And they were the ones who didn''t do anything about it," I said darkly. All of this crying and carrying on was putting me in a bad mood. "You said I had a month or something, right?" "A bit less." "So we''ve got plenty of time," I said. "Why don''t we try again tomorrow? It''ll give you time to think of people to ask, and me some time to sleep." "Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot it was past your bed time." "Nah. Thanks for trying today," I added. He nodded, but didn''t say anything. I hoped he wasn''t crying again, but I''m pretty sure he was. The next day, when I was walking back from uni at sunset, I came across a kid just lying on the footpath. She was dressed much like Eric, in goth-style black and white. The only difference between them so far as I could see was that she had longer hair, and wore a long black ruffly skirt with white skulls printed on it. "Are you alright?" I asked, and she woke up, looking confused. I helped her to her feet. "Ah, thanks," she said, looking around. "What street am I on?" "Pichard." "Huh," she said, getting her phone out of her skirt''s pockets and typing it in. "Are you okay?" I asked again. "Oh, probably," she said vaguely. She really did remind me of Eric. "Are you a vampire?" I asked. "In this sun?" she laughed. "No, I''m a witch." "Oh. Of course, right," I said. She held out a dainty hand. "Thank you for waking me." "You''re welcome," I said, shaking her hand. Her eyes narrowed. "You are put under a vampire''s curse," she said. "Yes, I know. We''re trying to fix it." "Hmm," she said, and dug around her pockets again. "If you need any help, you know where to contact me." She gave me a card. It just said, "Apple", with a phone number underneath. "Thanks," I said. "Since you helped me, I''ll give you ten percent off my usual fee," Apple said. "Thanks," I said again. She walked purposefully away. When I got home, Eric was already awake. "Are you sure you''re alright?" I asked him, as I watched him walk into the wall. "I''m fine," he mumbled. "Have you had breakfast yet?" "I''ve had two breakfasts." "Have you tried three?" "I''d need a second job," Eric yawned. "What if we bought a solar lamp, and put it outside your window? Would that make you sleep longer?" Eric blinked. "I don''t... think so?" He gave up, and had a third breakfast. As I walked past him, he sneezed. "You''ve been consorting with witches," he said darkly. "Not really. I just woke one up. She was on the footpath." "Don''t trust them," Eric advised. "One of them once stole my hand, and it took two years to get it back." "Uh..." "I''ve got a few more people to try. Are you alright going out tonight, or do you need sleep?" "I can have coffee tomorrow," I said. "Let me eat my dinner, and we''ll go after that." Eric didn''t cry this time, which was better, but all the people he asked suggested the most outrageous trades in return for a small bit of their blood. "They''ll ramp up the closer to becoming a thrall you get," Eric warned me. "That''s what I''m worried about," I said. "When I''m in the best bargaining position I''m going to be in, and their opening bid is "be my slave for life", it doesn''t really fill me with confidence. The whole point is to not be someone''s slave for life." "Yeah," Eric said, looking depressed. "Hey," I said, "looking at this from an economics perspective, we should have had differing bids. They were all kind of the same. I think the market''s been fixed." "I believe their perspective is that there is a difference--because Rayleigh, for instance, thinks he''s the best and so working for him would be better, and Monique thinks she''s the more moral one, so working for her is better." "Well, that''s a marketing mistake if I ever saw one," I said sternly. "Now, in the movies, there''s always some shady eldritch shop that sells potions and what not. Are there actually shops like that, and would one have some blood they''d be willing to sell me?" Eric looked appalled. "I guess there are shops kind of like that," he said. "But I wouldn''t know if they sell vampire blood. It sounds very unethical. Besides, whoever gives you their blood is then responsible for you." "And I''m sure Monique, being the ethical queen that she is, would feel that way," I said. "But since they''re not making me a vampire, there''s not anything to be responsible for. I''ve got time to shop around here without it getting desperate, and if the match is fixed, I''m not going to play ball." "You''re blabbing now," Eric said. I ignored him. I got Eric to show me where a few of the supernatural-dealing shops were, but didn''t go to any. I figured that they wouldn''t admit if they had vampire blood during the night. If from what Eric said the trade would be super illicit, they''d be more likely to sell it during the day, when all the vampires were asleep. I also figured I''d ask the shop keepers about their take on the business--Eric only had a vampire''s take on the problem, after all, and maybe other people knew of other solutions. As I was writing out my list of places to try in the morning, I remembered Apple''s card. Maybe I would add her to the list of people to ask, too. I checked everywhere, though, and couldn''t find it. "Have you seen a card anywhere? Has a witch''s phone number on it," I called out to Eric. "Haven''t seen it," Eric called back. "Haven''t smelled it, either. It''s probably gone. Witches are inherently untrustworthy, and so are their belongings." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "Wasn''t your hand one of their belongings?" I shot back. Eric didn''t answer. Maybe that was going too far. "Sorry," I said. I finished my list and went to sleep. There were three potential shops on my list. The first one was nearer the house than uni, so I went there in the morning. It was an old junk-filled corner store, and the guy who was behind the counter looked just as old and junky. "Hello," I said. He looked up from his newspaper reluctantly. "Hi," he said, and looked back down. "I''ve been bitten by a vampire," I said. "Is there anything you can give me for that?" I waited about a minute. He glanced up, and saw me waiting expectantly. "What?" he asked. I repeated myself. He shook his head. "Nope." I waited for a moment, to see if any further information was forthcoming. "Any suggestions?" I prodded. "Nope," he said. I sighed, and left the building. The next shop I went to in the two-hour break between lectures at lunchtime. "No food in the store," the guy behind the counter said, so I waited outside with the displays of dreamcatchers and finished off my sandwich. "You don''t have a coke with you?" the guy asked suspiciously, evidently having recognised the wrapper of my sandwich and known of the shop''s lunch specials. "No," I said, entering the shop. This one was just as cluttered as the other one, but with polished rocks and fairy figurines instead of dusty glasses and ancient puzzles. The place smelled like a thousand different incense sticks. My aunt would go nuts in a place like this, and not in a good way. "No," the guy said, when I explained what I wanted. "You''ll need to get a different vampire to give you their blood." "Is there any way to do that without signing my life over?" I asked. "Nah," the shopkeeper said. "Sorry, mate." After uni, I took the train to the last shop. The woman who owned it explained that she had stopped dealing with "that esoteric stuff" about a year ago, and she only dealt in good, honest, organic farm produce. Happily, she was lying--she also dealt in advice, though didn''t charge for it. There were apparently a few psychological tricks to dealing with vampires, though I''d have to try them on ones we hadn''t dealt with already. When I asked, she said that nobody in the south of the country had ever dealt in illicit blood trades. "It just isn''t done," she said. The sun was almost set when I travelled home, my bag filled with half-price organic vegetables. It was dark by the time I began walking home from the train station, and I tripped over something lying on the pavement, smashing my face into the ground. "Ow," I remember saying. I tried to get up, and fainted. The first thing I saw when I woke up was a light blue ceiling painted with black and gold depictions of the constellations. It''s the sort of thing I would have found insanely cool when I was fifteen, so I stayed lying down and appreciated it for a while. "I know you are awake," someone said sternly. I sat up, and saw Apple, the witch from the other day. She was wearing the same outfit as before, only her skirt this time had sheep skulls rather than human skulls on it. "You owe me a dollar for making me spend more time with you," she said sternly. "I''m running a business, here." "Were you what I tripped over in the road?" I asked, equally indignant. "I was tired," Apple said defensively. "And if you wanted to find me, you could have rung me instead of tripping over me in the street." "I wasn''t trying to find you at all," I protested. "Besides, I''ve lost your card." Apple heaved a huge sigh, and handed me another card. I looked at it suspiciously. It seemed to have a different phone number to what I vaguely remembered from the other one. I looked around the room. It appeared to be a highly decorated storeroom, with boxes of noodles and tins of vegetables peeping out from under the piles of embroidered throws and satin pillows. Smells and sounds of a grocer or restaurant floated in from the door. "While I am here," I said, "what would be your rate for advice on my vampire problem?" "One hundred dollars for ten minutes," she said promptly. It was pretty steep, but considering the other options offered were ''be a slave for life'' and ''become a zombie'', it actually seemed quite reasonable at the time. "Ninety dollars," I reminded her. "You said you''d give me ten percent off." Apple grumbled, but agreed, and I transferred the funds over to her. She sat down quietly for a while, then gave a shout and threw some skewers up in the air. She studied them for a moment. "Are they going to come back down?" I asked. "In a minute," she said, distracted. "Shh, I''m concentrating." Eventually, the skewers drifted down to the ground, "It''s much easier interpreting them in a three-dimensional space," Apple explained to me. "So what did they say?" I asked. "You''ll have to pay me," Apple said. "I already paid you!" Apple smirked. "It''s been ten minutes," she said. I refused to pay the witch anything more out of a sense of moral indignation, and trudged back home, poor and hungry. I was home before I remembered my groceries. Apple probably hid them somewhere so I''d forget them, the sneak. "You''ve been fraternising with witches again," Eric remarked when I got home. He sniffed the air and made a face. "Are you dating one?" "Not on your life, mate," I said, opening the fridge to see what I had left for dinner. "You smell like witches and food." "Because I tripped over a witch, and she brought me to her place which is at the back of a restaurant." Eric leaned on the doorless frame that led to the kitchen, and watched me microwave some potatoes. "I know I''ve said to stay away from them, but they do know their stuff. Maybe you could ask her for help, if you keep on running into her? They mess with fate a lot, so maybe you''re meant to ask her." "I did," I said, and told him about getting robbed. "Just pay her, man," Eric said. "Better than becoming a mindless zombie, sent out to buy me games and stuff." "What if we kidnap one of your friends," I suggested, "and steal their blood?" "I''m not sure that is the best idea," Eric said. "I''m pretty sure you''d end up dead." "Well, I''m sorry Eric, but your friends are both unhelpful and apparently extremely violent." "I know," Eric said, sighing. "That''s the trouble with vampires." "They have terrible taste in friends?" I joked. Eric didn''t smile. I guess it wasn''t that funny. "While you''re there," he said as I rummaged around in the fridge for some sauces, "can you get me one of my packets?" Something in my brain didn''t translate that as a question, and my hand twitched towards his Ot packets before the rest of my brain had processed it. I clenched my hand, and took a breath. "Sure," I said, handing him a packet. "Thanks," he said, and wandered back into his room. I leant my head on the fridge door. I had assumed, I guess, that becoming a thrall would be an instantaneous process: one minute I''m me, the next a mindless zombie with no will of my own. Apparently it would be a slow and terrifying loss of self and control, instead. Great. The next day after uni I went back to the store Apple had been working out of. "Sorry, I don''t know who you''re talking about," the owner of the restaurant said. I growled to myself, and searched in my bag to find the new card Apple had given to me. As I was beginning to expect, the card was nowhere to be found. "This is just silly," I muttered to myself. "I should just forget about it. It''s just a con job; she wouldn''t have had useful information for me anyway..." An old woman sitting in the doorway of a closed shop beckoned me over. "Read your fortune, kind sir?" she asked. I wavered a little, then gave in. I guess I am just naturally superstitious. At the start she was firm in only accepting cryptocurrencies (which I got Eric to explain to me later); I eventually managed to negotiate her down to unmarked twenty dollar notes. She tucked them away in her bodice, then peered at my hand. "Your life will be cut short," she said. I tensed. "But then it will begin anew." "You sure?" I asked. "It doesn''t say, my life is just about to be cut short, but then I find a solution to my troubles and keep on going as before?" "There is definitely a break in your life line," the old woman said firmly. "But--" "Your love line is non-existent," she continued, eyeing me pityingly. "But--" "Oh, don''t listen to that old crone," Apple said from behind me. "Sorcerous hussy!" the old woman spat at her, and left, muttering about her poor knees as she hobbled away. "You want me to tell you what the portents said, yet?" she asked. "You mean the kebab skewers?" I sighed. "Actually, yes. Why not. If I become a thrall, I won''t need the money anyway." I sent her the money. She struck a dramatic pose. "You will be saved," she said, "by a man by the name of Theodore Appelion." "Really?" I asked, in disbelief. "That''s what my hundred dollars gets me?" "That''s what the portents see," she said primly. I threw up my hands, and left for home. I guess she was right, in a way. If I was to be saved from this vampiric curse, I was going to have to do it myself. Wherein I behave like Cinderella and go to the Ball Another week passed, and Eric and I had made no progress on our "Stop Theodore From Becoming A Thrall" project. "Why don''t we--" I began. We were sitting in the lounge room, eating chocolate sorbet and blood and trying to figure out what we hadn''t tried yet. "If your next suggestion involves assaulting, blackmailing, or any other illegal activity, I''m saying no." "We''ve tried asking nicely," I said. "And we got a nice, though unhelpful, response. If we escalate the situation we''ll evoke a not-nice, unhelpful response." "You seem very afraid of vampires for a vampire," I observed. "I''m a bit low down on the food chain," Eric muttered. I could imagine that. Eric looked somewhere between ten and fourteen years old if you imagined him without the goth makeup, so presumably around that age was when he got turned into a vampire. I would imagine that the other vampires laughed at him for being stuck in puberty forever. I wasn''t going to say that to him, though. "You can''t be that far down, you got that fancy letter in the mail yesterday," I said, picking the gold-edged card up from the table. "Oh, everyone gets one of those. It''s an invitation to the latest charity ball. It''s super boring." "It says there is a fair?" I asked, reading the invitation. "It''s not a real fair, it''s just a few tournaments and games," Eric said. "It says here--I''ve got it!" "What?" "It says the sabre duels for the festival will be till first blood," I said. "So we convince a powerful duellist to help us?" Eric asked, confused. "No, look, I''m going to go, and compete in the tournament. and when I win one, I''ll eat the blood off the blade and voila! I''m cured." "You don''t have an invitation," Eric observed. "You have a "plus one" spot," I said. "That''s supposed to go to my partner!" "But you don''t have a partner," I pointed out. "Yes, well, but--" "Come on, Eric," I pleaded. Eric sighed. "All right," he said. "Yes!" "Just one question." ''Yes?" "Do you actually know how to use a sabre?" Eric asked me. "Er..." "Thought not," he said, and sighed again. "Fine. I''ll teach you." As a child, I and some of the other kids from the town near us had played duelling, which mainly consisted of finding some good straight sticks and whacking each other with them. Apparently, actual duelling is a bit different from that. "At least you don''t have a bad flinch reflex," Eric said. He had taken me to a sparring range that was at the back of a 24 hour gym. "You''ve done some sort of martial art before, haven''t you?" "My uncle taught me. Mainly unarmed." "I can tell," Eric sighed. "You''ve gone to the wrong stance again." I adjusted my feet. "All right. Do you remember the counter for the straight cut?" He brought his sword down slowly. I did the counter. "You know, this isn''t the worst idea you''ve had," Eric said, doing the cut again. "But it does depend on you actually winning a fight. And you''ve got me as a teacher, and I''m pretty bad at it. Maybe we should ask one of my friends to help?" "Eric, I''ve met your friends, remember? What are the odds that they''ll try to prevent us doing this, because of some kind of moral objection they make up on the spot?" Eric was silent. "Worst case scenario, I lose all my matches, and have to stab a vampire on my way out." "The," Eric warned. I shrugged. "I won''t," I said. I was lying, though. I was having an awful time trying to learn from Eric, because half the time when he directed me to do something, I''d go into thrall mode and do what he said, and then promptly forget it. I couldn''t keep on like this. I was drawing a line at the ball. That was when I was going to get some vampire blood, and break this thrallish curse. No matter what. Apparently, boots aren''t suitable for going to a ball in. No, not even good boots. My aunt would approve, but I was a bit annoyed at Eric as I followed him into the fancy hotel the vampires had booked. "My feet hurt already. How am I supposed to duel in these?" I whispered to him. "Shh," Eric said, walking across the marble floor to a table covered with pieces of paper. He found one to put down your name for the duels, and he wrote mine down as "The (Eric''s Plus One)". "Did you want to go in any of the other games?" Eric asked. "You mean like the competitive poetry? Nah, I''m good," I said. When I was a kid, some American movie or other became really popular at my school, and we were inspired to conduct rap battles at recess for six months or so. I was not going to embarrass myself like that again, thank you very much. I still remember my friends wincing at each of my rhymes. The dining room had a rich red carpet that absorbed sound and gave the place a dim, hushed atmosphere. Vampires are solitary hunters and therefore solitary feeders, but those that used to be human still liked drinking blood as a group. There was a few tables set up with fancy glasses and crystal topped wine carafes, presumably filled with a fancier version of whatever Ot was. A couple of Eric''s friends were at one of the tables, but he avoided them. There wasn''t any human food available, though I thought I could smell oranges from somewhere. It made me homesick. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. "Have you thought about my offer?" Rayleigh asked, coming up to us. He looked even more snooty than the last time I saw him. I didn''t even know that was possible. "I''m still weighing my options," I told him. If I failed to sabre or knife a vampire tonight, Rayleigh would probably be the last guy on my list, though. We sat through the poetry competition, which brought back bad memories for me, and the darts throwing competition, which was actually pretty interesting. Then it came to the duelling. "Damn it," Eric hissed, as we looked at the board. "Why is only one other person competing?" I asked. "He must have put his name down just after yours, and scared everyone away," Eric said. "Is he a good duellist?" I asked. "The best." Eric looked seriously freaked. "You know this guy?" "Yeah." "Want to elaborate?" "No." "All right," I sighed. "Wish me luck." I stepped up to the duelling square taped out on the floor. "Don''t kill him, Mellif!" someone called out. The vampire I was duelling, an old creepy looking guy with an old military style posture, smiled without showing his teeth. "Win this, The," Eric called out to me, and I went into thrall-mode and don''t even know what happened next. When I asked Eric later, it actually sounded like a pretty cool duel. My opponent, Melif, started by testing my reactions, which I responded to with the normal counters Eric had tried to teach me. I then went on the offensive, which turned out to be a mistake, because this guy was super fast. He then came at me with a straight thrust, and I figure my non-thralled training took over then, because I ducked under the blade, bringing mine up to slash Melif''s arm. That''s when I came back to reality. "And the match goes to The, with the youthful knees!" the adjudicator said. I took a shaky breath. An assistant came to take the blade from me, and I wiped the glint of red onto my hand before giving it to him. I saw Reyleigh suddenly realise what I was doing, and smirked as I sucked the blood from my hand. I saw Monique in the crowd, too. She had the grace to look amused. "Congratulations," Melif said to me in a dry voice. "Thanks," I said. They then presented me with my prize, an orange. A blood orange, from the smell. I figured it was a vampire joke. "You can have it, I get enough at home," I said to Eric, passing it over. I saw him hand it over to Melif a little while later, head bowed. Eric insisted we stay around for the competitive acrobatics, to be polite, and it was pretty cool. Then we went home. "Do you think it worked?" I asked him, as we sat in the lounge room, eating sorbet and blood. "It should have," Eric said. "Quick, tell me to do something," I said. "Go buy me a video game," Eric said. "Nah," I said, and laughed. There wasn''t even a hint of compulsion left. At that point, we heard a knock on the door. Eric and I looked at each other. "It''s not a vampire out for revenge, is it?" I asked. "Hope not," Eric said. The knock came again. "I''ll get it." Eric went to open the door, then leaped back with a yelp. "Back, foul witch!" "Ew, a vampire!" I went to see what was going on. Apple was standing in the doorway, fingers pinching her nose and waving ineffectually at Eric. Eric was hovering upside down from the ceiling, waving ineffectually back. I had no idea he could do that. "Calm down, you two," I said. "Ah, whatsyourface," Apple said, turning her attention to me. "I felt bad about how unhelpful the fortune was, so I did some research. Apparently Theodore Appelion is the heir to the Appelion orchards, where they grow Appelion blood oranges, the only non-blood food that vampires can eat. They''re worth their weight in gold in vampire circles." "You mean instead of all this rigmarole, I could have just gone home, got a bucket of oranges, and bribed the vampires instead?!" "Wait, so you''re Theodore Appelion?" Apple said, sounding shocked. "What?" Eric said from the ceiling. I heard a bird start calling. Dawn was near. "I don''t want her in the house while I''m asleep," Eric said, backing away, still on the ceiling, and going into his room. "Let me in and I''ll hex him for you," Apple said to me. "I heard that," Eric''s muffled voice came from behind his closed door. "I''ve had a long night, and I want to go to bed. Sorry," I said to Apple. "Thanks for the information, I guess." "I''ll give it to you for half price. So you only owe me--" I closed the door, and went to bed.