My dearest sister,

I am delighted to be informed by you that your employment is going well and you are satisfied with your work. I would like, at this time, to draw to your attention to a slight fact that I think it would stand you in good stead in your new home.

What the hell are you on, girl???? We grew up in the Bronx, whattheheck are you mouthing off about???? Maybe all that damn country air is getting to your head. Maybe it's too much damn Jane Austin shit you read. Maybe it's the weird bastards you work for now. I don't care how good looking they are, they are dangerous, and you watch yourself, 'k?

Thanks for the invite to the ball. Valentine's dance, eh? Very cute. I think I'll come and 'steak' my claim on my little sis before she does something embarrassing and/or fatal! 'Special Presentation By Jean-Claude of New Orleans and Kraven of the Eastern Coven'. And you say these two are quite dishy? Ok, maybe it doesn't sound too much like a drag now. Well, see you later, little sis, and don't do anything I wouldn't- hell, juts hang tight and don't go getting all starry-eyed. These cute puppies have razor-sharp teeth under those velvet smiles, y'know.

Take care.

Ellen

XX

**********

(Diary stained in cough syrup)

Don't know what the medication was, or why there appear to be small pink ponies dancing on the ceiling. My chest is a bit sore, but the thick white envelope laid beside me looked promising. Alas, no munchies (am damned hungry…) but an invite- to a *Valentine* Ball? As if I need to go fishing for dates. I am the Coven Beauty- I need no begging! *They* all come begging to *me*! Like the good old days in the Sultan's favour. Well, that was more like the difficult old days. Maybe the bad old days. Perhaps. But I know what I mean. Even if it was cold and dark, and I heard the sounds in the night and the heavy breathing behind me, and knew I was going to feel the pain again. And where was Dracul? He promised he'd protect me, he *promised*. But I didn't cry. I never cried. Not even when they were harsh. I remembered them all. At first I thought I'd die. Then I had an idea. I'd make them into numbers. Numbers and times and then I could write them down and tell them where to go and see who's master then, eh? *I've* got the pen, and *I* decide when you'll be and where, and even if I can be bothered to write you down! But I still remember them all. All of them. I don't want to think of that. I. Don't. Want. To.

God, I need more syrup, I really do.

And I simply must decide what I am going to wear. I love parties. I always look the best. They liked it when I got dressed up. And then dressed down.

Perhaps I'll go ask Carmilla, she has good ideas. And perhaps she'd like the pink ponies as a present?

*********

(Scribbled note on napkin passed at dinner from hand to hand)

J-C: all going well, but sweet Selene beginning to fail. Must push onward!

(Scribbled underneath)

K: Hold on, only one more day- must get as many of the brethren together for this to work.

(Scribbled below)

Jean, Tell me again why we're bothering to do this?

(Tucked into the last remaining space)

If we don't stop this right now it'll spread to the entire vampire population and wipe us out in a fit of insanity.

(On the back, Armand's eyeliner pencil worn to a stub by now)

I thought this lot were here in order to quarantine their already dangerously high levels of instability?

(More still…)

True, but although it's a bit of kill-or-cure slapping this lot together, it's as if their insanity became contagious and leaked out…

(In last remaining area of napkin)

Ok, right, yes, got you. Let's do this.

********

(On thick white vellum hand-delivered by a white owl)

The Night Isle Coven requests the pleasure of your company on the evening of February 14th, 2003

For the purposes of celebration, feasting and dance

To bring in once more the Vampires' New Year

And celebrate the life of the sainted sinner, the first true leader in the darkness, the first to be impaled.

RSVP

Dress: Formal.

Bring Your Own Body

********

(On a sheet of sticky paper, stuck into a journal covered in s'mores and rabbit-prints)

Oooh, I don't feel very well. My rabbits have gone a funny colour, and I'm sure they shouldn't be walking backwards. Or flying. Can rabbits fly?

I went to see Dracula because I felt unwell, but the floor was like- moving. I didn't' know we had moving floors. Then I saw Carmilla, but it might have been Louis, or was it Lestat? I don't know. It was like one person, but three heads, and they were all fighting with each other. I don't like fighting, and I don't like Ruthven making mob noises and chasing me with a burning torch and pitchfork, either.

It's the ball tonight, and they've been ever so busy. That nice new maid said she'd help me with my best suit. I know it's new year, but do we have to do this? Maybe if I curl up really small no one'll see me and I can sleep through it. But I know Ruthven would find me, and I don't like the fire he's got.

I suppose I'd better go and have a bath. I hope my duckie is there. My duckie makes the world alright again.

I need a new hanky. My nose needs wiping and the old one is full.

I really am not very well.

********

(Note on pink myrrh-scented paper)

Ruthven, you are a tease. Of course Louis is out of the picture. But I want to dance with Radu. The poor chick looks so sad today. I don't care what you say; he's the cutest little brother I never had.

********

(Text message from phone of senior maid. Sent to Housekeeper)

Ma-am. Prep'tions going gd. Worr'd @ number of vamps 2nite. Is this wise?

(Text back)

Serious sit. D'nt ask ques's. Do work. And pray.

********

(Part of the guest list drawn up and checked off as guests arrive)

Ms Gabrielle De Lioncourt

Mr Daniel Malloy

My Khayman

Mr David Talbot

Miss Merrick

Mr Vittorio di Raniari.

Mr Blade

Count Dracula (Whedonian)

Count Dracula (Lugosian)

Count Dracula (Dark Prince)

Prince Radu (Dark Prince)

Count Dracula (Leevian)

Count Dracula (Craven)

Count Dracula (Langellian)

Count Orlock

Mr Max Schreck

Miss Lilith Silver

Mr Alucard

Mr Angel

(Remaining list torn off)

********

(Email posted at 2.30 am to Ellen Saunders esaunders@maids2go.net on morning of February 15th)

Great leaping buckets of bunnies, sis! Last night was perhaps the weirdest night of my entire life. It's the biggest suck that you couldn't make it in the end due to the freak accident with the bat and the broken nose and all, but I just *have* to tell you all about it, because the place is still buzzing with it, ad I don't think anyone's going to get any sleep, and I've already been on IM and LJ and just *covered* everyone else with this, but I just have to tell you, too. I know you'll like this one.

The evening started off fairly normal for a vampire ball. You got the invite? You know that it's their new year on the 14th (how ironic is that?), and you would have been my guest. Under hospitality rules, even the servants are allowed guests.

Well, they all arrived in droves- the guests with their partners, guests, and more than a few gullible Anne Rice fans that had been tempted in (the vampire equivalent of finger food). Considering that everyone else was dressed in formal evening wear for their era and taste, the Goths looked rather silly.

Anyway, Dracula welcomed them, but the old boy looked a bit… scatty-eyed. Swayed a bit, too, although the blood-red cloak billowed terrifically. (I *knew* no one'd see the stains on that colour). But he looked- out of it. Even more so that usual. Ranged behind him, the NIC- complete tonight with Armand, Marius and Spike- looked rough. In Varney's case, *really* rough, and more than a bit spaced. More like the-spaceship-has-long-since-left-sort-of-spaced. And in Radu's case, heading towards the other side of the galaxy.

To one side Selene leaned on Kraven and Jean-Claude seemed to be in deep conversation with various vampires as they arrived, especially the contingent of Draculas. Yes, there's more than one. No one's ever worked out which one's the original, but they all manage to get along somehow. I think one lives here, and claims nostalgia for *that* bit of eastern Europe, the other one has a pent-house and claims affected nostalgia for *this* rocky outcrop, still another lives off enormous royalties from a series of films made in the 1950s in England, and looks too dignified to bother with being nostalgic at all… I think they all agree to disagree. It's kinda cute, really. Like a convention of daft old codgers in their dusty evening wear sharing wildly inaccurate and conflicting reminisces over a slightly darker and thicker form of brandy than is normally drunk on such occasions. Anyway, they have 'old blood' written right across them, and form the nucleus of the Higher Vampire Council (HVC) and they all seemed pretty worried about something.

Kraven was looking anxious, gorgeous but anxious, although possibly the presence of two werewolves by the back door as Jean-Claude's backup could be the reason. One I think is dating Selene, but they weren't allowed to come any closer, not being vampires but an entirely other form of immortal. For the same reason, Jack Sparrow and Legolas were also absent, although Sparrow's legacy lived on in the form of a Whedonian-inspired 'spiked' punch. I smelt the rum from across the room. And it's a big room.

The NIC swayed about the room, chatting to guests and meeting all friends. There was a near-riot when the Riceans all gathered in one space. Bad blood, there. And enough angst to keep Louis happy for some time to come. Lestat kept on oscillating between his mother and Louis. Armand was sneaking towards the very old and powerful vampires, and being yanked back by Marius. A vampire called Khayman was having a delightful conversation with a tall, dark stranger until someone pointed out that it was a coat on a peg. He looked faintly upset. Said the other chap was most witty and he'd miss his company…

Varney tried to nosedive into the punch, but Ruthven dragged him back crying out something about beaurocrats. Carmilla gave Varney a white handkerchief to wipe his face with, and Ruthven saw it, yiped pitifully and ran for it. Most odd. Spike and Angel were in deep conference by the buffet, both eyeing up Lilith Silver. Damn, she makes Radu look chaste. Speaking of which, Carmilla was dancing with Radu. Was it just me or was it getting damn hot in there? I mean, they were calling each other 'brother' and 'sister', but if a brother and sister did that sort of dancing with each other in our neighbourhood they'd be impeached for immoral practices. Makes 'Dirty Dancing', Prince, Michael Jackson and that dance in ' Zorro' look like classes for kiddies. Even Dracul looked shocked. Ruthven was seething. Louis looked plain stoned.

There was a lot of wild energy around, too. Rabbits- all colours and shades- kept on popping out of nowhere. Small lightening bolts sizzled about, and every now and then Lestat or Dracula or Radu would levitate a fraction, and then subside. The room seemed to be changing colours, and the guests looked uneasy.

I knew the Coven weren't feeling well, I had no idea it would be this bad.

Then it happened. Just like in the movies- all at once, and even with theme music. The band started up the Sarabande- the NIC's official formal dance, and everyone took places to take part in it, but the guests arranged themselves around the NIC- so each NIC member was holding onto a guest on either side. They had to peel Radu off Carmilla, pull Ruthven down from the chandelier and extract Lestat from his cronies, but once they were all lined up, I realised they were all out of order. The guests had manoeuvred *around* the NIC, cutting them off from each other. And they were all facing a lone figure- Jean Claude was standing at the front. Kraven had Selene by the hand and on the other he was holding onto Ms Silver. Angel had grasped Spike; Gabrielle had Lestat, etc, etc. Anyone who had a connection to any of the NIC was holding on for dear life. Varney whimpered softly, but the music started, and everyone was staring at Jean-Claude. I don't mind staring at him myself, but this was different.

There was a steady gathering of power in the room- a sort of thrumming that you felt through your heart and feet first, then in your jaw, then in your head. Pale at first, but with increasing clarity; I'll never forget what I saw. From each vampire there was being lifted a light- a colour, like a ribbon or a snake that wound upwards from them and snaked towards Jean-Claude, who looked magnificent. He's not at all tall, but his black hair was whipping behind him in a sudden wind that seemed to come from the vampires. His eyes were wide and staring, his lovely face set into the increasing gale. His silken poet shirt- half open to begin with- ripped open and showed his pale skin and the cross-shaped scar livid against his heart. He threw his arms wide, and the colours frothed over the heads of the assembled vampires. They no longer danced, but stop transfixed as if staked through their chests, eyes huge, the colours rising from the NIC were livid, overheated reds and purples. The rest were cooler blues and greens and blacks. It was like drawing poison.

Just then, Lucian, one of the two werewolves grabbed me round the middle and pulled me back, his face pale. I got the point, and he sat sprawled by a table at the edge of the ballroom, watching the show.

It had all been planned all along. Jean-Claude was the conduit, Kraven was the organiser. They planned all this.

By now there was a storm raging in the ballroom. The band had retreated under their podium, wisely considering it to be safer under there. But the screaming wind and the flying detritus was filling in with more than enough noise. A whirlwind had developed around the square of now-stock-still vampire figures, Clothing was whipped about, coming loose in places, and hair flew wildly. Radu's chopsticks had long since gone. Funnelling above the vampires and spiralling towards Jean-Claude was an inverted cone of coloured threads- like a twister of wind, it bet towards the vampire who was directing it all with his very essence. But there seemed to be a problem. Right in the middle of the group, Lestat, the only other vampire who can feed from life power alone, was struggling against Jean-Claude in a battle of wills. Jean-Claude is much older; Lestat is very strong. And Lestat seemed to be taking offence at being forcibly purged of his energies. The storm howled about us. Thunder rumbled, lightening flashed outside, the trees thrown into a wild rattling against the walls, the moon sailing on a tempestuous sea of hurtling cloud. The lights flickered, then flashed, then went out, but the primal forces at work in the centre of the room, the funnel of colours and light pulsing from the vampires to the Master Vampire at their head provided enough light for us to see that the battle was slipping. Lestat was losing! Slowly, piece by piece, Jean-Claude gathered up all of Lestat's will, his energy, his power, and drew it from him like a thorn from the flesh.

Then suddenly it was all in the air above their heads, thrashing, angry- bloated and vile-looking, Jean-Claude opened his mouth and a solid stream of silver light shot from his mouth, eyes, nose and ears, and hit the funnel dead-centre. It exploded with a crash of a thousand, thousand souls crying out in pain, and I saw, just- through the had I held up to my face- that the silver light ignited the healthy, paler coloured streams and sent them throbbing with power straight into the sick ones, and the battle was joined in the very ether of our existence. It felt like I was being pulled apart, and then reconstructed a molecule at a time, and I hadn't even shared my life essence. But the hot, ugly colours were subsiding, glowing paler and stronger and healthier.

Finally, Jean-Claude lowered his arms, and the threads split into many different separate forms and wended their way home, falling back into the mouths of their 'owners'. The skin tones grew healthier in the vampires, and the winds died, the detritus dropped out of its wild flight, and the vampires' bodies dropped to normal standing positions, unsupported suddenly, and most of them staggered and many fell to their knees or simply fainted. The NIC all collapsed. Jean-Claude also fell to his knees.

Slowly the servants crawled out from their shelters. IT seems I was the only one who hadn't known in advance, hence Lucian rescuing me. Where I had been a table had smashed down with enough force to shatter. I thanked him and arose to begin the weary task of clearing up and giving help to those that needed it.

The guests didn't stay long afterwards. They drank some fresh blood and rested awhile, then left. Their purpose had been fulfilled, and vampirehood was safe from the danger of diseased contamination. Jean-Claude was helped back to his room by Kraven, who also tucked in Selene, although her werewolf boyfriend stayed with her. All of the NIC were out for the count (Geddit? For the Count?) They were carried or levitated to their rooms. They looked so peaceful in their enforced slumber, like small children with no cares in the world.

The children of the night, what sweet music they make…

Radu and Louis were the cutest- their arms thrown above their heads, their faces flushed slightly, all the strain of being innocents in a world of decadence erased from their faces. Radu was even smiling, a smile that apparently hasn't been seen on his face for a long time. A *very* long time.

Well if that's New Year, I gotta be here for Christmas, not to mention Easter- Varney's been planning bunny celebrations for months!

All my love, sis, I'm going to go crash now. There's still loads to do, but I'm too damn tired to care.

Take care of that nose,

Mary.

XX

********

(Diary stained in cough syrup)

Oh my god, did anyone get the number of the bus that hit me? And what the hell is all this sticky mess doing on my diary If Varney's been in here, I swear I'll skin those damn rabbits of his. Been re-reading some entries. What was I *on*?? Can only remember vague things. Owing money to elves, getting hooked on something disgusting, fighting, bitching, dirty dancing with- oh, lord, not with Carmilla! How the hell am I going to live this down? Plus been told no blood for a week due to recovering from Vampire Flu. What bollocks. Vampire Flu? *I* don't get things like that. I take precautions.

Cannot think where *I* could get the Flu from. Must have been another vampire around here- loose as a whore's pantaloon string. This lot, after all.

*******

(Written in a once-grand leather-bound tome with the word 'Dierey' imprinted in gold on the front)

Have distinct impression bad things have happened. No, not bad, Embarrassing. Seem to remember staking Radu. He must have been particularly annoying. Will maintain a stiff front, and get some explanation out of that smirking French poof- the scarred one. He seems entirely too pleased with himself today, and that is suspicious.

********

(Part of a prescription)

A mild drink 1 part lamb's blood, 4 parts spring water, 1/12 medicinal beverage to be taken three times a day for a week. Restriction on use of psycho-kinetic powers. No sex or blood-letting at all for a week. And light use of powers and light dining for a month following.

********

(Text from Louis Pont Du Lac to Carmilla)

Dearest. What the heck hap'ned? Lv u.

(Text from Carmilla to Louis Pont Du Lac)

Frankly, I'd rather forget.

********

(Written in official Coven diary and counter-signed by Ruthven, with Radu, Lestat, Louis, Varney, Carmilla, Jean-Claude and Kraven as witnesses.)

The last month never happened. It will never be mentioned. Under pain of excruciating. Here endeth the lesson.