A Dance at Midnight

Senar, with Henry at her heels, ran out to the front of the house. The other vampires had already congregated by the lilac bushes; they shouted and cursed loudly, and some even wailed.

“What is going on here?” No one heard her. She caught Henry’s expression: his brows were furrowed, and his jaw was clenched. “What is it?” she asked him.

She saw him swallow. “I didn’t know,” he said.

Senar left him standing there and pushed her way through the crowd. As soon as she broke through, her breathing stopped. She dropped to her knees.

Donator Elias lay in the bushes. His left arm was twisted. His eyes were closed. Droplets of blood oozed out of the lances in his forehead and cheek.

Her heart gave a sharp pang. She peered up. The second, third, and fourth-floor balconies were empty. Judging by his injuries, and the fact that she could hear his faint heartbeat, he had had a fall but not a steep one, which meant he most likely fell from the second floor.

“I turned around, and the next thing I knew, he was gone. When I looked over, I saw him in the bushes; he’d fallen, and I hadn’t been there to save him...”

Adrian sat on the front steps of the house, his head in his hands. His eyes were watery, and tear streaks stained his cheeks. His hair was a mess as if he’d run his hands through it over and over again. Giana sat beside him, rubbing circles on his back. On his other side was Mistress Heather; the young vampire pouted and whimpered for Adrian.

I won’t let you die...That’s a promise, his words echoed in Senar’s head.

She let out a disbelieving huff. He’d pushed a donator, nearly killing him, so Senar wouldn’t have to fight because he knew that if something happened to any of the donatori here, everything else would take second place.

She clenched her hands into fists. This was her fault. Again. Adrian may have pushed Elias, but if she hadn’t been bloodwoken...If she hadn’t allowed for them to take a break...

With some effort, she swallowed down her scream. The Bleeder continued to cry. Even worse, he wasn’t very good at it.

Henry joined her at the front of the crowd. “Take him to my room,” she said. Henry didn’t move. “What now?” And Henry, she was annoyed at him: he could’ve told her. He didn’t know. She sighed. “Sorry,” she said. “What is it?”

“No need to apologize,” he said. His green eyes flicked to the vampires circled around them. “It’s just, there may not be enough space, Senar.” He spoke his words purposefully as if he were trying to tell her something but couldn’t in their current company.

She understood: the donatora was already in Senar’s room. Evangeline had been turned yesterday, and she remained asleep. Putting Elias with her, a new vampire who may not be able to control her thirst, might be dangerous. Henry was right: Senar couldn’t risk it.

“Take him to one of the empty rooms near mine,” she said.

Henry nodded. He walked over to the fallen donator. He lifted him and began the climb up the stairs. Meanwhile, Senar turned to the tormented vampires. “Everyone,” she said, “I know this has been traumatic, but please, panicking will get us nowhere. The fight has been called off. My staff will tend to Elias, and while we do so, please come inside and have a drink.”

She had thought they would argue with her, but surprisingly, they didn’t; the shock of the near-death of the donator rendered them pliant. As they moved toward the entrance of the mansion, they squeezed her arm and offered words of consolation.

“Hey, honey, how are you feeling?” Giana wrapped an arm around Senar’s waist.

“I’ve felt better,” she said.

“He’s still alive,” the Cuban vampire said, “and he’ll get back on his feet in no time. I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk.”

“Thanks, Giana,” she said, giving the other vampire a quick hug. “I’d better go check up on him.”

“Yes, of course,” Giana said. “Take all the time you need. Don’t worry about us.”

Senar found Henry and the donator in the guest room at the end of the hall, across from her bedroom. At her arrival, Adrian stood up from his seat beside the bed.

“You have five seconds to explain before I throw you out,” she said as soon as she closed the door.

“I did what I had to do,” he said.

“Bullshit, you didn’t have to do anything.”

“I made sure he wouldn’t die,” he said.

“He could have died.”

“But he didn’t.” Adrian came over to her then; she backed away. He halted. “Clara would’ve killed you,” he said.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“So what, I should’ve watched them discover all our secrets and then tear us to shreds?”

No. Yes. I don’t know. You almost killed a donator!

Another thought followed: You almost killed a donator...for me.

No, she silently chided herself, he did it for himself. For Celeste.

Her head began to throb again. “Please,” she said, “just leave.”

When he next spoke, his voice was calm but firm. “I did what I did. Would there have been a different way? Maybe. But, unfortunately, we’re stuck together, whether you like it or not, and I’ll be damned before I let them touch a hair on either of our heads.”

Senar heard him leave. She shut her eyes. Her heart thudded. She blew out a reedy breath. When she opened them again, she said, “Henry, go check on the donatora and make sure that the other vampires are where they’re supposed to be. Bring Mina in after. And a couple pitchers of blood.”

“Yes, Senar.”

After Henry left, Senar circled the side of the bed to where Elias’ arm lay on top of a pillow. It didn’t look broken, thankfully. With nimble fingers, she grabbed it and, without wasting a breath, adjusted it back into place.

Elias’ eyes flew open, and he let out a howl of pain.

“Shh.” Senar soothed him. She lay the arm back down on the pillow and cupped his cheek.

“Mistress Senar.” His voice was laden with relief at the sight of her. Immediately afterward, his features warped. “Master Adrian pushed me,” he said. “I don’t know why, b-but he pushed me, and I fell, and I couldn’t-” He was hyperventilating now; tears sprung in his eyes.

She caressed his cheek. “I know,” she said. “It’s okay, you’re safe here.”

The scent of coconut signaled Mina’s arrival. “Come in,” Senar said. A moment later, Mina stood beside her. In one hand, the maid carried a compact black bag they kept for non-urgent injuries.

“He took a fall, but he didn’t break anything,” Senar told her. “He went through something traumatic, though, so after you tend to his cuts, give him something to help him sleep.”

“Will do, Mistress.” Mina peered at her. “And you, Mistress, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said curtly. She cleared her throat. “I need to go check on something. Stay here with Elias until I come back.”

Mina bowed. “Take your time, Mistress.”

Senar left the room and crossed the hallway to her bedroom. Taking out the key from the thin chain around her neck, she slotted it into the lock and entered the room. Before the fight, Henry had moved the donatora onto the bed; she lay there now, sleeping.

The donatora’s arms rested atop the covers; Senar gingerly grabbed one and pressed her fingers against the inner wrist. No pulse; cold skin. Just then, the donatora stirred, the slightest twitch of her head against the silk pillow. Senar froze, her breath stuck in her throat.

Minutes passed. Then, the donatora’s eyelids peeled open. Senar’s heart dropped to her stomach. She was awake - the donatora was awake!

Evangeline groaned. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” Senar said.

The donatora peered up at her. “Mistress Senar,” she breathed.

Senar offered her a small smile. “How do you feel, my dear?”

“Thirsty and like I got run over, Mistress Senar,” the donatora said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Will I be okay?”

That sounded about right; Senar had reacted more or less the same way when she’d woken up from her turning. Unlike in the books and movies, fledgling vampires were indubitably weak, their minds and bodies unused to the sudden changes. Rest and lots of blood were paramount during this period.

“You will be more than okay,” Senar said. She smoothed the donatora’s stray blonde hair away from her sweat-dampened forehead. “You just need to rest.”

The door cracked open. Henry came in, carrying two large carafes of blood. “Thank you,” she told him. She grabbed one of the carafes from him; the glass was hot from the fresh blood.

Senar set the carafe’s rim against the donatora’s lips. Her eyes were closed, so she didn’t see the redness of the blood, but she’d taste it soon enough.

In a matter of seconds, the carafe was empty, and whether the donatora noticed or cared that she’d just drunk blood from her former peers, Senar couldn’t tell for the donatora fell back against the pillow. The sound of light snoring filled the silence.

After making sure she was truly asleep and there was no one lurking outside, Senar slipped out and went to check on Elias. Mina had cleaned and dressed his wounds and now sat by the window, a book in her lap. She looked up when Senar entered.

“How is he?”

“Stable, Mistress. I gave him some melatonin to help him sleep as well.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Senar said. “You’re relieved: go and sleep, Mina, thank you.”

“Of course, Mistress.” Mina closed her book and left the room.

The rest of the night passed in the same fashion, with Senar alternating between the rooms. Neither donator nor vampling awoke again, so tired they were.

Back in her bedroom, Senar slid to the floor, her back propped against the chaise. She held her head in her hands and attempted to breathe. Jihwa, Hajoon, Evangeline, and now Elias. The list was growing longer; she was losing control.

He saved you, her inner voice said for the umpteenth time that night. He was willing to kill a donator for you.

“He did it for himself,” she said aloud. “For Celeste.”

It was impressive how loyal the older vampire still remained to his long-dead human lover; she must’ve been one of a kind. Then again, if Hajoon were still alive now, Senar would’ve done anything for him.

It doesn’t matter who he really did it for, her inner voice persisted. The fact remains: he saved you.

Her breath slithered out. She grabbed a pillow from the chaise and threw it against the wall with a strangled cry. The pillow bounced off with a cushiony thud, but it did the job: some of the tension coiled in her body had wrung itself out in her throw.

At that moment, she sensed Adrian lurking outside. “I know you know it’s me.” His voice was muffled but unmistakable.

Senar gathered herself. She stood up and cracked open the door. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

He was leaning against the door frame, his hands in his pants’ pockets. He shrugged. “Got more important things to do,” he said.

As much as she didn’t want to, she let him in.

“How are they?” He was referring to both Elias and the new vampire.

“Stable,” she said, echoing Mina’s response.

He didn’t go near the bed. Instead, he faced her. “How are you?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

He shrugged. “You tell me.”

“I’m not going to apologize for having reacted the way I did,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “You shouldn’t.”

“But...” she stopped, trying to muster the nerve. As much as she hated to acknowledge it and prove him right, he was right: despite his idiotic method and his shitty acting earlier, he did save her.

...we’re stuck together, whether you like it or not...

She hated it, actually. Yet, for some reason, he was the only one who seemed to understand what she was going through.

Just say it. She sucked in a breath. “Thank you,” she said. There, she said it.

“Sheesh, that was painful,” he said. “Lucky for you, I didn’t do it for your thanks.”

“I want you to know that I don’t need saving,” she said.

“And here I was, feeling like a hero,” he said.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously handsome and charming and amazing.”

“Is that what you tell yourself before you go to bed?”

“I would if I had to.” He grinned.

Wow.

He leaned in to peer at her. “You’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are!” He let out a whoop.

“Stop that,” she shushed him.

He fell silent, but the grin had grown wider on his face. “There’s no hiding from me now, Senar,” he said.

He meant it lightly, but the sudden weight of the realization sunk into her. “I guess not,” she said.

His expression softened. They gazed at each other.

She cleared her throat. “You should get some sleep.”

Without waiting for a response, she walked over to the door. He joined her after, but he didn’t leave right away. Instead, he rested his arm against the top of the doorframe. His eyes searched hers, then dropped to her nose, down to her lips, and then back up.

Senar, too, studied him. Faint lines etched themselves between his brows and around his mouth. Gray hairs lightly salted the edges of his temples. Adrian Namgung wasn’t a conventionally handsome man, but his overall appearance, from his sharp jaw and broad shoulders to his dark eyes and height, exuded raw power and masculinity that trumped typical good looks.

Maggie had been right: he was sexy.

As if reading her thoughts, Adrian smirked. He leaned down further, noses nearly touching. She held her breath, even though she didn’t need to, she shouldn’t.

“Good night, Senar,” he said. His voice rumbled through her.

“Good night, Adrian,” she said, but he was already gone.