III

I told my parents and my employer that I was taking a six-month sabbatical. I felt energized by the prospect and bargained with the Empress, through Ilaria, to receive an advance on my payment, which I deposited in my account to cover my share of the mortgage and any costs arising during the sale of our house. Ah, yes. Our house. I rang Seán and told him I was going to America to work with vampires. I might as well have told him that I was going to Mars to work with unicorns.
"America?" he said incredulously. "As in, the United States of?"
"Yes," I said with a touch of pride. No more moping around for me. Gone were the days when I salted my cornflakes with tears and was a stranger to personal hygiene. I was back on track: I had a wonderful job opportunity working with the vampiric Empress of the European and North African Territories.

Seán tried to repeat that as well, but he stumbled over the word 'vampiric'. In fairness, though, I wasn't entirely sure it existed. I made a mental note to Google it.
"You can't work with vampires," he hissed. "Everyone knows what they're like. You'll end up dead or – what do they call it? Drained!"
"What do you care, anyway?" I asked. Really – what did he care? He was too busy shagging little Miss Perfect Arse in her one-bedroom quayside apartment. Feck him.
He made some more protesting noises but I cut him short. I told him what arrangements I had made and said that, in the unlikely event of our over-priced house selling in a sluggish market, I would be contactable via any of our many social media networks.

I felt fantastic: empowered and positive. And then I started Vampire Bootcamp at their headquarters in Dublin and felt like I was ten years old again.

That's not what they called it, of course, but I nonetheless had to attend a two-week 'familiarization course' with the other members of the Five Families so we could be fed the official line on the European Vampires' campaign. It was held in the Vampire Council's in Dublin, on the other side of the city from my overpriced house. I'd been in the building so many times, with my parents and grandparents, and had never quite shaken the feeling that the place was a bit magic. On the outside, it looked like one of Dublin's many Georgian buildings, but on the inside it had been extended on all levels and out the back of its extensive garden to accommodate all the vampires' business, like a rabbit warren of light-tight rooms. I was the only one of the Five Families members who could go home in the evening: the others had come in from mainland Europe and had been put up in the guest accommodation within the Council building. I had to be at my desk (well, the conference table) at 9 a.m. every morning and in the information folder we were given on arrival, there was a code of conduct with a dress code: smart slacks or knee-length skirts. Blouses, t-shirts, jackets in colors 'appropriate for a business setting'. So, yeah – essentially I was back at school in a uniform.

I met Pietro and Hans-Peter again, both of whom I had last seen at the old Emperor's commemoration. They were both in my Uncle James' age-group: Pietro was small and thin, with delicate pianist-fingers, while Hans-Peter looked like the Bavarian forester that he was. He had a large, round tummy and wore a thick, woollen Loden jacket in the traditional southern German style. He confessed to me that he no longer liked doing any official Five Families business, especially the sort that involved travelling to multiple big cities on a far continent. I loved to speak to him, he had a gentle German accent that rose and fell. Oh, and he called vampires 'wampires'. I was entranced.
"Since many years now I work in the woods, in the nature," he said earnestly. "Zis wampire business is not for me."
"Then why did they ask you?" I wondered.
"I am the only one left," he said sadly. "My shildren are at the university or in the work. My son is a carrier, like me, but he hates the wampires. When the Empress called me, she remembered me that my family owe the wampires for their help far back in the 1960s, back when I was just a boy. But it is no matter, it is my duty to pay back this favour."

And he looked a little sad. I don't blame him. The Empress – her name was Moya Kennedy back before she was voted the supreme ruler of vampire life across Europe and the north of Africa – was a very sweet and charming lady with a will of iron and a long memory. I was absolutely certain that she had a long mental list of everyone who owed her and the Vampire Council of Europe a favour or a tribute.

I liked to sit beside Sonja Helsaig, who was in her mid-thirties and just a few years older than me. She was a lawyer in Amsterdam and had been working in vampire affairs for years. We were both quite in awe of the fifth member of our little group, Count Tomas Ardelean, who was in his late eighties. He'd lived through a period behind the Iron Curtain when one of his tasks was actually to stake vampires for the Soviet Vampire Council. He walked with a cane and usually sat with it between his legs, so he could cross his hands over its ornate knob and rest his forehead out of sight behind them.

I quickly understood why I had been invited along. Pietro was cranky and temperamental. Hans-Peter got flustered when he had to speak to a group of more than three people. Sonja was brisk and to the point, but her voice was nasal and she was not a natural orator. Tomas Ardelean simply said nothing. I, on the other hand, was happy to speak to anyone so it seemed to be an accepted fact that I would be the group's public speaker. I was drilled in a selection of speeches that I co-wrote with the Empress' advisors and was made to practice them while the others were trained in the art of persuasion, one on one. Sonja called it, 'How to Make Friends and Influence Vampires.'

We had lectures about vampire history, lectures about the current state of affairs in the United States, Central and Southern America, and Asia. We were shown photos and given biographies of all the leading vampires would meet on our tour of the US. The itinerary was revealed; we were each given certain tasks that we would have to take on in the three weeks between the end of the tour at the beginning of December and the start of the Congress on the 20th of that month. I was to coordinate the arrival of the British, Irish, Icelandic and Scandinavian delegates, which pleased me greatly. I knew many of them by name or sight already.

We were also assigned vampire companions. At least, the Empress called them companions but we all knew they were minders. Ilaria was mine – no surprises there – and with her came her secretary, Stephen. I liked him on sight. He was German, like Hans-Peter, and made an effort to put the older man at ease. Stephen came from the north of Germany, from the city of Hamburg, and he confessed to me in private that he found Hans-Peter's dialect almost incomprehensible at times. But he took time to speak to him and distract him from the reams of information we were being forced to process and remember. Stephen was kind that way.

He was generally a nice guy, though. The kind of man you'd probably see behind the desk at your local bank or insurance office. He had been in his early forties when he was turned, he had short brown hair and kind grey eyes. He was attractive in the kind of way that surprised you – you know, when you've known someone for some time and you suddenly realize that they're actually not bad. As in: quite comely. That's it: Stephen was a comely vampire. When he met me, he appraised me from head to toe, leaning in a millimeter or two to get my smell. I didn't hold it against him: vampires find us carriers a curiosity and, like men who don't realize they're staring at your chest, they tend to move closer than they intend to when we're first introduced. But Stephen checked himself and looked embarrassed, quickly drawing back with a quiet apology.

He was a perfect foil for Ilaria: where she was quick and tended towards snap decisions, he was thoughtful and deliberate. Although, officially, he was her secretary, it quickly became clear that he was more than that. He could have taken over her role in an instant and probably would've been better informed that Ilaria ever was. However, she was magnetic and charming, while he always seemed a little humourless and stiff. He seemed to struggle slightly with the newest technology, gingerly prodding his mobile, while Ilaria carried a smartphone like a weapon. Anything unfamiliar to her in this new life was promptly Googled. She also had an extensive Pinterest account and an array of artsy photos on Instagram that were filtered to the point of unreality. Ilaria's official role was one of the Empress' two personal assistants and, in turn, Stephen was hers, but he was senior to the other assistant's assistant by virtue of his vampire age. I found it still very confusing but the vampires seemed to have an innate concept of hierarchy that allowed them to instantly gauge where they stood in the pecking order.

We completed the bootcamp – sorry, familiarization course – and I was disappointed to learn that we would not be getting a certificate. When I suggested it, tongue in cheek, it was met with po-faced perturbation by all of the vampires present, except Stephen, that is. He grinned at me silently and gave me a quick wink, my co-conspirator. We were given our plane tickets and told when to assemble at Dublin airport. I shook hands with the other Fives and was about to say goodbye to Stephen and Ilaria, when she took me by the elbow and steered me out of the room. I was called in to have a private audience with the Empress.
"Behave yourself now," Ilaria whispered. "Stop demanding certificates and grades."
Ilaria does not appreciate my sense of humor. She pushed the door open and me inside with a gentle hand on my back.

Moya stood up when I came in. She was quite tall and her hair had started to grey before she was turned, just a few wisps at her ears and temples. It made her age hard to estimate: she had probably been old by her era's standards, maybe in her late thirties, but she didn't look young by ours, either. She had a face that could've been a decade older or younger, which had probably contributed greatly to her survival over the centuries. She hugged me close but held her head stiffly away, trying not to smell me. She was very respectful that way; I liked her for it. In fact, I liked her generally: many of the vampires griped that she was too authoritarian, an iron fist in a velvet glove, but I knew that she was motivated by a desire to achieve the greater good for her fellow vamps and was in the unenviable position of following a leader who had ruled successfully for a couple of centuries.

The Empress indicated that I should sit and I did. She explained that I would be offered for sure to the king of the Dakotas and probably the High Councilor of New York. She was undecided about the third feed. While she was telling me this, there was a low rap on the door and Ilaria walked in with a small tray of medical equipment and – of all things – a jar of honey.
"We've discussed this at length," the Empress said. "We discussed the merits of chocolate and wine and fruit, but we decided upon honey. It's sweet, the taste carries well and it will be known to many of the older vampires who were turned before sugar was brought back from the New World. So if you could eat some of this, Ilaria will take your blood when you're done."

Now, I've always enjoyed a bit of honey – on a piece of toast. Drizzled across a cake. But eating it with a spoon out of a jar, Winnie-the-Pooh-style, is another matter. I made my way halfway through before I put my spoon down.
"I think I'll be sick if I have to eat any more," I said. Ilaria swabbed my arm and told me to lie back. She tapped my arm, found a vein and started extracting my blood. The Empress' face grew a little pink, and she excused herself, leaving the room. I knew why: the smell of the bleeding carrier on the couch was probably too much to bear. I imagined she was off in the pantry, scoffing a True Blood or tucking into a bag of blood that they got for her from the local blood donor group.

I watched my blood flow into the plastic bag. Ilaria patted my arm. She seemed entirely unmoved by my super-sweet blood - she'd probably just eaten before she came in – I lay back in the chair and looked at the ornate plaster on the ceiling.
"Is this it?" I asked. "Is this the last thing we have to do before we leave for the States?"
"Yes," Ilaria said. "Are you looking forward to it, your debut as one of the Five Families, seeing vampire history in the making?"
I felt a bit woozy, so I closed my eyes.
"Yes," I said. "I can't wait. It's going to be exciting."
"It will be," Ilaria agreed.
Little did we know.