A Dance at Midnight

teamwork

-

The sky was a powdery cobalt. Cirrus clouds stretched across the dark blue expanse like downy feathers. Fireflies lit up the garden. Somewhere, a bush emitted a briny aroma, mingling with the honeyed scents of the flowers.

The pavilion fit all fifty of them inside with room left over. Like the rest, Adrian sat on a silk cushion in front of a low wooden table. Atop the table was a shard of diamond, its facets glittering like a thousand tiny mirrors, and a large carafe, also crafted from pure diamond, filled with fresh blood. 

"The pairs have been randomly assigned," Senar said. She sat at the head of their congregation. Her ebony hair was pulled back in a sleek updo, and layers of pale pink chiffon covered her skin. Her back was straight, her shoulders were loose, and a faint smile curved her lips as she peered at each of them. 

The sixth night, the last night before the Bleeding Ball, was when the vampires fed each other blood; it was a way of coming together as one in order to acknowledge and honor the plight of vampires who had had, and may still have, no one else.

"Each diamond has been carved with the name of the person you will feed with," Senar continued. "Once you find your partner, please feel free to either stay or go to your rooms." She lifted her diamond. 

Adrian lifted his as well. On the base of the rock was a single word etched in calligraphy: Senar. He looked up and tried to catch her eye, but she wasn't looking at him. He followed her gaze:  Heather, who had been matched with Solomon, was arching her back as her partner licked the droplets of blood off her bare sternum. Heather giggled and sighed in pleasure.

Around them, others followed suit, and soon, the pavilion reeked of blood, even more so than before.

A line appeared between Senar's brows; her lips had thinned, and something told Adrian that she had fisted her hands in the folds of her gown. Setting down the diamond, he stood up and strode over to her.

A moment passed before she looked up at him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, and he didn't try to. He offered his palm. "Shall we?" he asked. 

The last time he had done this, she had flipped him on his back. She had ample reason to do the same thing this time. She didn't: she grabbed his hand, her palm cool, and he gently pulled her to her feet. She nodded at him. "You know the way."

-

Out on the balcony, they stood, side by side but not quite touching. Above them, the stars shimmered. The sound of crickets singing drifted up. 

"The stars are bright tonight," Adrian said. 

"They are," Senar said. 

"Celeste once told me that all those stars up there are the spirits of those who've passed," he said. "Bullshit, obviously. I don't want to look up at the sky and picture dead people staring down at me, watching my every move."

"Do you miss her?" Senar asked. 

"I don't feel like I deserve to," he said truthfully. "After what I did to her. But yes. Always."

"I understand," she said. "I feel the same way about Jihwa." 

Adrian knew the story about Senar's daughter, though the specifics varied depending on who told the tale. He had a feeling he was going to learn the truth now. 

"She was eight when the men took her," Senar said. "I hadn't sensed them; I was so drunk with blood, I might as well have been living in a different world. They took her, and they tortured her. They tortured Hajoon, my husband at the time, too. When I found her..."