Ward of the Vampire Read Free Page A

notwithstanding, this had to be the most beautiful dress I’d ever worn. And there wasn’t even a mirror in the room for me to look at myself.
    Miss Delilah apparently agreed. She nodded once and smiled. “Perfect. All we need is to get your hair up, freshen up your make-up a bit, and we’ll be all set to go.”
    I stared at her, confused beyond words. She couldn’t have just said what I thought she had said, right?
    She had.
    As it turned out, she’d known all along which dress she’d wear: the fourth one, a long sheath that hugged her body like a second skin, with a black train hanging in the back. The other three, she’d bought for me. No, not just bought. She’d had them made for me. That was why they, and the shoes, fit so well. How she knew my measurements, I have no idea.
    I wasn’t wearing the Cinderella dress, but when she was done with me, I did feel like I’d just met my fairy godmother and was about to go to the ball to meet the prince.
    Except that, as far as I can recall, there weren’t vampires in the fairy tale, and the godmother didn’t offer Cinderella to the prince as a midnight snack.
     
    *
     
    We took a limo to the party. Maybe the livery service was out of pumpkins.
    I kept thinking I’d start hyperventilating any moment, now, but while she was curling my hair and pinning it up—she’d done it herself, telling me to stay still and let her work her magic and I’d had a hard time stifling a giggle at that word—Miss Delilah had told me to relax and I’d done exactly that.
    I was going to the party of the season, I’d brush elbows with people I was accustomed to seeing in magazines, on TV or on movie screens, but I was calm. Relaxed. Just like she’d told me to be. Another clue, but I was too mellow to pick up on it.
    In hindsight…
    No, forget hindsight. There is no amount of clues that would have made me understand.
    Or believe.
    I’m still not sure I believe it now.
    Would you?
    Be honest, now. You’ve read stories in which vampires are real. Or magic. Or elves. Or aliens with ten heads who eat nothing but sushi. You’ve seen movies with the same. All right, maybe not the sushi-eating alien, but that could be a fun movie. Anyway. Would you be any less shocked if you were suddenly confronted to that alien? Or for that matter, vampires?
    No, you wouldn’t be. Even if you really enjoy vampire stories, even if you sometimes think to yourself ‘I bet vampires really do exist and I wish I could meet one someday,’ deep down you know there is no such thing and it’s all just pretty—or not so pretty—stories.
    We like to tell ourselves stories. Like to be scared, or thrilled, or enthralled. Like to forget our lives are nothing more than ordinary. But when your life turns out to be anything but ordinary, it’s like nothing you ever imagined. I know that firsthand. Just like I know all those stories have a nugget of truth to them, but don’t quite tell us what vampires are truly like.
    But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up a bit and return to that limo.
    It stopped right in front of the mansion. The chauffeur came around to open the door for us, and we stepped out onto, I kid you not, a red carpet, complete with security guards keeping photographers and curious passersby at bay.
    Miss Delilah walked onto that carpet and under these flashes as though she does that every day. Which, okay, isn’t far from the truth. Me? Not so much. All I could think as I followed her was, ‘Don’t trip.’ I really didn’t want to end up on one of those blogs I was reading as the nobody who humiliated herself before even getting to the party.
    I managed to step inside without making a fool out of myself. A man at the door greeted Miss Delilah by name and gave her a little bow. He threw the tiniest of questioning looks toward me. Miss Delilah simply said, “My guest,” which apparently was enough. The man inclined his head toward me, said, “Welcome, Miss,” and started turning