"How is your speech therapy going?" Alia asked when they were alone.
Leonard had just left Diantha's room with a folder and the firm was quite silent at that time of the evening. Employees who worked late had not yet arrived and those on day shift had already left.
"Idont knowifI likeit, but it's working, Iguess," Diantha said with a visible effort of concentration.
"Yes, I noticed, and I'm glad," the fae smiled, "if you appreciate the results, do you?"
"I do," replied the daemon.
Alia nodded in the direction of the closing door. "What about Leonard?"
"Whatabout Leonard?" repeated Diantha frowning.
"He's dying to attract your attention, to go out with you and to do some other things to you I don't want to know about."
"Leonard? Areyou joking?" asked Diantha.
"Don't tell me you didn't notice."
"I didn't," Diantha said shaking her head, "he never askedmeout, he never hintedatanything, Imean we'reat the firm allthetime andhe never…"
"Now, you know. Are you… interested?" Alia smiled.
"Interested in someone who doesn'teventalk to me, who doesn'tshowme hisinterestand notevenhisotherideas about what to do tome?" replied Diantha with a red glint in her eyes. "Not really. Besides, I'mseeing someone—"
The fae seemed uncertain, and somehow displeased at the idea of Leonard's unrequited love. "That's wonderful," she said instead, "and who would he be?"
Diantha smiled in an unusual reserved way, her pointy teeth showing between her lips. She gave a look at the screen of her tablet, then said, "What about going out for a drink? He just texted me he'll be at Aíma for another hour."
Alia agreed out of curiosity and because it was so long since she had a night out with a friend. Though, unformed thoughts nagged at the back of her head and a distant uneasiness swirled in her gut.
Aíma was a vampire bar in downtown, connected with a restaurant, a spa, a gym and a gallery of shops with high end boutiques and jewellery, much in the same way as Area Five headquarters in Shreveport. They landed in a secluded parking area and headed toward the entrance.
Diantha seemed at ease among vampires and led her inside the bar toward a shadowy booth in the darkest corner of the place. But, Alia thought, daemons were always confident and comfortable amongst vampires: they knew their blood was acrid and unpalatable and their sweaty nature was definitely not compelling to vampires. Indeed, Alia had never known of such a couple. It was exactly the opposite of fairies: their blood was sweet and intoxicating to vampires. The mere smell of fae blood could drive a young vampire into a frenzied behaviour in a matter of minutes. So she had been told. But, maybe, it was just a prejudice or a piece of advice given to hold fairies out of the way. However, that was why only fairies who mastered the scent concealing skill could venture in vampire land.
Alia knew her blood had changed since she had become full fae, although she could not say anything about its taste. She felt more energetic and alive, as if her blood flowed stronger and recharged her body in a deeper way. It was just a physical sensation, and an awareness of which she could not trace its origin. However, she could suppress her bodily smells altogether and that was weird enough for vampires who were accustomed to use their olfactive sense to detect emotional states and physiological facts.
The bar clientele was an odd mix of vampires, daemons, humans and a few bizarre creatures who reminded her of dr Ludwig. They were as tall as a ten years old child but their faces were battered by age, their eyes dark and joyful. Alia smiled at the hidden variety of humanoid population who, to an unconcerned average human, would have looked like a motley crowd of adults and dwarfs of the most indiscriminate taste and look. She liked it.
The place itself was richly furnished, with abundance of curved walls and slightly distorting mirrors. This way people seemed coming out from rounded corners and jumping directly to the opposite wall, their images slightly different and somehow slowed down. After a while Alia understood those mirrors were live screens and lost some time trying to spot cameras.
When her gaze came back to their table an alcoholic concoction stood in front of her. The human waiter who had just laid it down sported fake fangs and a cross-eyed gaze. Alia tasted the drink and smiled her approval. The waiter nodded satisfied and went away.
Diantha took her glass and clinked it against Alia's in a silent toast. The liquid was spicy and full of chemicals meant to stir up a cheerful mood. Alia relaxed on the sofa and decided to monitor the colourful crowd around them. She unfolded and freed her mind, then chose some mind waves and assigned a channel each. Humans, daemons and some vampire's voids. It was a cursory sweep, like a gaze to take in the way people dressed without singling out designers and fashion styles.
"Lady Alia," said Latsis, a mild smile on his lips, "glad to see you, it was some time." He lingered over their table, his dark business suit oddly matching his tousled hair.
"Secretary," the fae straightened her body.
Diantha watched the fae closely and moved along the sofa to free a place at her side. Latsis' smile showed an unexpected warmness when his eyes met the little daemon's and his long frame bent graciously to kiss her.
Alia's expression was one of amusement, glancing at each daemon alternatively. Diantha giggled silently and slid below the daemon's arm.
"Sookie," suddenly a voice rang over the table, "Diantha."
Alia lifted her eyes to meet Eric's and stiffened. Her stomach twisted as she tried to relax her features, then she nodded and lowered her gaze. All her mental shields tightened and she found herself sealed from the outside, floating in her head like a prisoner.
Diantha and Latsis stood up, said something that got lost into the background noise and went to the dance floor. The music, a chant that reminded her of a religious dirge with a beating rhythm, filled the moment with a sense of loss.
"How are you?" asked Eric, still standing at the table side.
"Fine, and you?" Alia thought that she should have pursued her teleportation lessons with more determination.
"Fine," he said. "May I?" He gestured at the seating.
"Sure," she nodded and attempted a smile.
"Pam told me your telepathy has improved a lot…" he said after a while.
"I studied and trained it," Alia nodded.
"…and that you can protect your mind effortlessly," he continued.
Alia nodded again.
Eric smiled. "Then, you don't need vampires to silence down the world, now."
Alia stared at him. She was trying not to cry or not to scream, what exactly she did not know but she felt like yelling and shattering his ostensible calmness into pieces.
Eric's smile disappeared under her gaze and his eyes showed a veil of sadness.
Alia opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She still wanted to yell at him, but now she was not sure anymore about what she felt like smashing. Maybe nothing.
A vampiress appeared at their side bowing lightly, and said, "Sir, the envoy's car is landing now."
"Thank you, Roxanne," his dark blue eyes did not leave Alia's. "Have a nice night, Sookie."
Alia watched him standing and leaving, the tall and well built vampiress behind him. Her stomach was still twisted as if trying to digest an unpalatable meal.
The following days were demanding and heavy for Alia's internal organs. Stomach and intestines were very taxed, but lungs too had a hard time working efficiently. But Alia ignored her body attempts to independence and wore her blank expression with ease.
The week began with Leonard who asked her out to help him training in crowded places. It was already a few weeks that Alia was assisting him with increasingly difficult tasks, and it was time to grill him in a serious combing session. No place was better than a packed nightclub with booze and a varied choice of synthetic stimulants to offer mind waves with rough and swinging patterns.
The human telepath was not very talented and needed constant help to keep track of more than three channels. She was showing how to comb inputs without being overwhelmed by them, when a whiff of pleasure slid across her awareness. It took her a fraction of a second to recognise the mind pattern behind that feeling. She turned. The smile on Eric's face was hesitant but his eyes were on her, unfaltering. He was crossing the hall, avoiding the dance floor, with a party of vampires and a human. Alia identified Karin and Hunter, the tall and well built vampiress she had already met, and another vampiress. Beautiful. The kind of beauty everybody could agree on: maybe ten centimetres shorter than the king, a slender and delicate frame despite her considerable height, an elegant face with rare features. She wore a loose robe whose colours changed with lights but complimented her dark skin. Alia remembered her from the king's file she had avidly read after the royal audience: Rehema Donnelly, his wife.
Jealousy pinched Alia's mind like a mousetrap shutting close on a tail. Her body stilled. Leonard, striving to keep open a few more channels than usual, did not picked up anything. As Eric halted to nod in greeting, his party stalled around him and one by one turned to see who had caught his attention. Karin and Hunter joined Alia for a brief salute, while Rehema stared at her with a warm expression.
Alia's jealousy squeaked.
It was a moment, but enough to leave a mark. Then Alia purged her mind of every lingering emotions, and switched to the dumb blond mind frame. As wearing high heel shoes makes one aware of steps and rugs, so adopting a mind frame rounds edges and frees space.
The rest of the evening she pushed Leonard to his limits and met some of hers.
Some times weekends with her nephews and brother helped Alia to swim through her life easily. Some other time they were not enough. Alia could share with her relatives only a little piece of her life, and their lives seemed too limited for her. But it was not anyone's fault. There was nothing to excuse nor to regret.
Therefore, after a chat or a diner Alia would go back to her flat in Shreveport and study or watch tv. Sometimes she went out to explore the city and its inhabitants. Other times she called Pamela and, if she was in town, they would go clubbing or to cinema, theatre.
Tonight they agreed to meet at OnceWasFangtasia. The famous restaurant catered also for vampires and offered a selection of natural bloods and a line of foods whose ingredient was synthetic blood reconstituted in different states (liquid, solid, foam, gas). It was not a venue Alia favoured but she understood that her friend did not want to be far from the sheriff's office.
Pamela appeared at her door with an evening dress that hugged her shoulders, squeezed her hips and covered one leg with a long skirt and the other with what remained of a pair of cigarette trousers. Dark blue and green, depending on the light or the body temperature. Alia had seen ads promoting the life experience those new fabrics granted, but her life had already plenty of new experiences and she was not eager to add more. The vampiress, though, had a different idea. She walked inside Alia's flat with two bags full of them.
"You must be joking," Alia said browsing inside a bag. "Isn't the regency enough to occupy your time?"
Pamela smiled. "I felt like cheering up my favourite fairy."
"This fae is—"
"A pain in the ass, trust me."
"Probably," Alia continued to explore the bags' content, bringing out dresses, scarfs, belts. "But I don't feel like a—"
"Sookie," said the vampiress putting her hands on the fairy's shoulders and holding her attention, "indulge me, tonight. You can use some fun. When is the last time you went out for a drink?"
Alia lifted an eyebrow and smiled unwillingly. "Maybe that was exactly what I didn't need to be reminded of!"
"Then, let's make a new memory of your last time for a drink and a chat."
Alia opened her mouth, and closed it. Maybe dressing up like there was a reason was reason enough. The logic did not seem sound at first, but at a second glance looked less stupid. After that, it became almost an axiom.
Alia accepted to wear a light green dress whose fabric threatened to become darker if the she caught a cold or a fever, or to highlight a limb with random red dots under a light between three and four thousand degrees Kelvin. Alia hoped the pumps could just stay the same, but forgot to ask.
OnceWasFangtasia was anything like its forerunner. Indeed, the only ties it could boast were its name and the place it occupied. Tough, the first vampire bar in Shreveport had left its mark in all the versions it had morphed into through several decades.
Now, it was a sophisticated restaurant where politicians and businessmen found a chance to meet their corresponding vampire counterparts and, in an invitation only area on the second floor, the unofficial lounge of the local sheriffdom.
"I thought India's offices where on the third and fourth floors," said Alia as Pamela introduced her to tUskS.
"This is a vampire only club, access granted only to upper ranks and their guests," replied the vampiress dropping her fangs. "Only for us. No humans, daemons, fairies or other supes."
Alia frowned. "So…?"
"I'm the fucking regent, fae. I set rules and exceptions." Pamela shrugged. "So, you're the first and only fairy who will ever cross that door."
The entry was an undetectable portion of wall at the end of a dim-lit corridor. It opened when Pamela was still one metre away and closed as soon as Alia stepped inside. The narrow vestibule was deserted and dark. If the vampiress mindprint had not been at her side, Alia would have thought of an ambush. However, it was enough to turn the fairy in fighting mode.
Then, the air moved on the right. Alia jumped back and on the left. A rustle of clothes, followed by a dull thud. A whisper she did not understood, a hand gripping her neck and the smell of burned blood filling her nostrils. The hand released its hold as her sleeve got wet, and a body weighed on the hand holding the dagger.
"You fine?" the fairy asked.
"What the fuck did you do?" asked Pamela at the same time.
A door opened and the light from outside illuminated the scene.
Alia leaned on the left wall holding a dagger, her blooded arm partially hidden by a vampire knelt in front of her. Pamela held the vampire's arm behind his back in an uncomfortable position.
"Regent?"
"Switch some fucking lights on," hissed Alia.
"Regent?" repeated again a voice coming from the vampiress at the door.
"Lights," said Pamela, "and a few donors for Tádé."
The illumination, when someone actually brought the lights up, barely brightened the narrow entrance. Alia blinked twice and inspected her body, as if her internal knowledge was not completely reliable to certify her uninjured state. The vampire at her feet, hands clasped around his throat, had lost a lot of blood, a good amount of which over her jacket.
"Explain," ordered Pamela, her voice icy.
"What should I explain? It wasn't me who waited in the darkness to attack a guest," answered Alia. Then she noticed that Pamela was addressing the sheriff, still standing at the door.
"Just standard procedure, Regent," replied India. The fairy could not say if she was playing it down or really stating the obvious. "The queen's inside and Tádé had been charged to disarm guests."
Two vampires in waiter outfits had silently slid inside and helped the wounded out, leaving the hallway by another door. Alia just moved aside not to hinder their movements, but did not feel like relaxing. Her mind had just archived the fact that she had not detected the assailant's void mind.
"Keeping the lights on and kindly asking visitors for weapons would have been weird, right?" snapped Alia.
"We didn't know a fairy was coming."
Pamela had not moved her gaze from the sheriff. The sheriff stilled, straightening her back and looking at a point over the regent's right shoulder.
"Tádé did what he could with his limits and I hope he will survive. But it's been a poor choice on your part, sheriff." Pamela's body was tense. "How are you, fae?"
Alia spoke flatly. "The jacket got ruined."
"It's on us, obviously," said the sheriff, managing to retain her stillness while speaking. It was her doll-like face, decided Alia, that gave her the ominous look of a dead object.
Pamela nodded and relaxed. "Is our table ready?"
Something had happened in those minutes, but Alia could not tell what exactly. As the sheriff led them to their table, took custody of the jacket and ushered in a waiter to attend to them, Pamela's cheerfulness came back as if someone had pressed a button and changed the scene. It was not the first time her friend's behaviour showed such an edge.
Alia had barely sat down on a plush armchair and was forcing relaxation in her muscles that Pamela was already recounting her last fling with a journalist up in her town.
"She's a little nosey thing," said Pamela. "But it's to be expected by a journalist, uh?"
Alia nodded and sipped at her flute. The drink was alcoholic but not enough to have an anaesthetising effect. That she would have welcomed, now.
"I'm not sure it's over yet, though," the vampiress continued. "She's got a way to ask forgiveness for all her stupid quirks… I wonder…"
"What has just transpired, Pam?"
"Not much. But she's always pushing me to know—"
"At the entrance."
"—how is it to be vampire, if we have an internal organisation, how we—"
"Why did he attack me?"
"—manage our business. I'm starting to think she's not—"
"I'm still coming down off an adrenaline rush, and don't know what to expect next," said Alia. The anticipation for a refreshing, light-hearted night out had just vanished and her old uneasiness at the harshness of the praeternatural world seemed to have crept back from a dark door.
"—very captivated by my wonderful personality," concluded the vampiress, and turned to watch the fae. "Tádé is deaf, partially mute, surely idiot but not a danger for you. Simply, darkness is not a problem for vampires and he didn't think you couldn't see him. You, instead of letting him checking you, have hit him hard, not heard his excuses and stabbed him with a silver-coated blade -nice thing, by the way. Now, the poor thing will remember something, probably to switch lights on or to speak louder. The problem is the sheriff. It's her responsibility to oversee her underlings. And a bouncer like him… I'll inform Karin, it'll be her problem."
"So you're telling me I freaked out for nothing?"
"Karin told me you had honed your fighting skills just fine," now the vampiress was smiling like a dog who had just retrieved a lost bone. "And I noticed you're not so concerned about the well-being of the Dull. What about your brand new jacket?"
"Really? Just that?" Alia exhaled deeply. "Not a murderous king about to jump up from under my chair? A fucking monad scratching my back? Not even a rabid dog plotting to bite to my calf?"
"Now that I think about it, Sookie, it's some months you're around and nothing serious has happened. Have you lost your edge?"
"Let's toast it," Alia said. "Hopefully, we'll find something to light up the night."
"That's the way, Sookie. You can't take life too seriously. It will always bite back at you, whatever you do. We might as well have fun… till next shit hits the fan!"
Alia watched her friend and, maybe for the first time, she saw a distant pain in the lines of her face. Her fine, delicate countenance could swing from a cold determination in the face of life's downturns to a childish enthusiasm for the beauty the same life offered her. Alia felt like hugging and tell her how wonderful she was.
"You have to meet a friend of mine, Chadwick," she said instead, "he's a dancer and you two would get along just fine."
"A fairy?"
"Just a wonderful being, Pam. You'll love him."
"Well, if he's conquered your heart, I want to know him for sure," said Pamela.
Two goblets had been laid down in front of them without Alia noticing the waiter who had brought them. She winced and decided it was time to start the evening with the right foot. It was almost an hour that she was in a very exclusive vampire club, and all she had done was soiling her jacket.
Therefore, as Pamela resumed her amorous tales, she watched around and started her mind probing. Until that moment she had not noticed the emptiness of the place. Her mind, in fact, did not perceive any thought, just a low emotional tide that washed over her from afar. Patrons and personnel were all vampires and she was the only non-vampire visitor. She wondered whether it was a statement to her foolishness, or to her newly found boldness, walking into a vampire lair with an iridescent ensemble and a silver toothpick.
The club had an air of old, reassuring familiarity nurtured through natural colours, solid materials and known shapes. Thus it seemed to step into a domestic landscape, made of common memories and shared values. On a shelf, behind an ancient candleholder topped with a dark lampshade, a set of pictures with grandparents and children, young couples and pets.
Alia nodded. Everybody had been a child once, and those images were both intimate and universal. The subtle way the place made the guests feel safe was unsettling and comfortable at the same time.
Pamela's voice had lost some of its sparkle, and now it came to her as a warm breeze. "…find one worth of your attention, fae?"
"This place is tricky," said Alia.
"Maybe you're not enough… attentive."
"It makes you feel accepted and relaxed." Alia noted her glass was empty.
"Aren't you? Is there something…"
"It's deceiving. It makes you drink more than you wanted," the fae started to fidget with her dress. She felt a faint uneasiness gathering around her. Maybe the familiarity offered by the ambiance was more sharp than secure.
"What's bothering you, Sookie?"
"It's just… maybe this is not the right place for a fae, after all," she giggled at her own words. "India said the queen was inside and…"
It had been a sudden realisation, as if the sheriff's words had been said in another language and only now she had translated them. The queen was there. The sadness settling in her stomach now had been chasing her for some time, and Alia felt too tired to dampen it again.
"I better go," she said.
Pamela's expression sobered and watched her friend.
"Your presence here is just fine, Sookie. What are you thinking?"
Alia shrugged and tried to hold back her tears. "Nothing, just tired."
"Are you still thinking about… him?" asked Pamela.
"I don't know," Alia said shaking her head. "It still hurts…"
In a very unlikely gesture the vampiress hugged Alia. "Stupid of me! I hadn't understood."
Pam's arms were a good place to lean to, and Alia relaxed. Then, tears came out unhurriedly. And it was like meeting an old, boring friend and not being annoyed by his rants.
It was some time before her sobbing subsided, but Alia did not feel like excusing herself. She smiled at her friend and wiped her cheeks. Pamela, for once, did not scowl at her and smiled back.
A polite cough interrupted the moment and both turned to see a bowing vampiress and, a few steps behind, a frowning vampire whose eyes glared at Pamela's arms.
"Excuse me, Regent. The King asks your presence at his table," the vampiress said. She was the tall and well built female Alia remembered to have already seen around Eric, but tonight she had an unyielding gait that gave her a hard side. Like a security detail.
"I see the king has found his way to our table, instead," Pamela replied standing up and bowing lightly to Eric. He dismissed his body guard with a finger on her shoulder and stood there.
"You better watch your hands, Pam," Eric's tone was cold. Then he turned to Alia, a frown still hanging on his face. "Sookie, you fine?"
Alia nodded. It could have been an answer or a greeting.
"Sookie here was… hurting," started Pamela with a small smile. "And knowing that both humans and fairies find comfort in bodies proximity, I hugged her to relieve her pain."
Alia stilled under his gaze. "Nothing, it's nothing."
"Sookie…" it was a whisper and Alia was not even sure to have heard it.
"My name is Alia," she muttered. Then she stood up, smoothed a crease that was not on her dress and left the hall searching for a ladies room.
After ten minutes Pamela joined her and leaned on the vanity table without a word. Alia appreciated her silence.
"Is there a secondary exit?" asked Alia padding her face with a towel.
Pamela's questioning look was hesitant.
"No, I don't want…" Alia watched her face in the mirror, "… his compassion."
Pamela pursed her lips. "I don't think it was compassion… Alia."
"Oh, you're right, after more than forty years he was just bothered to see a weeping human while drinking his blood," Alia snapped.
"Not even close, fae," Pamela said. "He was annoyed at me. Because I was touching you."
"What?" Alia watched her friend, then shook her head. "Why…?"
"That's a good question, Soo— Alia," said Pamela. An ambiguous smile appeared on her lips while she continued, "After all, you're still trouble, my friend."