Page 23 of Prayer of the Damned

She pulls me by the hand as we enter the ballroom, which reminds me a bit of the Council’s castle. Ancient paintings decorate the ceiling and a huge zircon chandelier illuminates the entire hall. Deep red curtains are drawn to reveal the university gardens through the large openings, and I feel like I’ve burst into an 18thcentury ball.

The freshmen students gather in clusters, getting to know each other. Valentina scans the hall, carefully examining the groups and those present.

“We need to be smart, Belle,” she whispers to me. “The gang we join will determine the rest of our time here.”

I nod, but I’m not sure I trust her to pick the right group for us. I have bitter experiences with the popular crowd, and I wouldn’t want to be part of them. On the other hand, I wouldn’t want to continue living as an outcast.

“Bingo,” Valentina points out three demons who seem absolutely bored. Based on their clothes it doesn’t look like they tried too hard for the event, but they don’t look like the group of weirdoes in the distant corner of the hall, or the privileged group that looks like they dressed for a charity gala rather than a university mixer.

She pulls me after her, and we make our way through the crowd.

“So what’s your story?” Valentina asks as we stop in front of the three.

The two boys and the girl turn their white eyes to us and examine us silently. The boys are wearing identical jeans and white polo shirts, and look like identical twins. They both have the same blond undercut that’s a bit messy on top, like they’ve just woken up. The girl looks like their female mirror image, with smooth blond hair in a bob cut, a denim skirt and a white T-shirt. I’m sure they’re triplets. They look like a beam of light in the mist.

“No story,” one boy shrugs, turning his gaze from us. The other stares at me with his white eyes.

“You look like you stepped out of a California fashion catalogue,” Valentina giggles, and the girl lets out a derisive snort.

“And you look like you don’t belong here,” the one staring at me says. I look down and play with my fingers.

“Good thing you’re not the one who decides on that,” Valentina comes to my aid.

“Seriously, what’s with your eyes?” he keeps pushing me.

“None of your business,” Valentina answers for me, and pulls me away from there. She lets out an exasperated breath and picks up the pace as I trail after her. “Ugh, how did I get that so wrong? I’m usually good at reading people.”

“Maybe demons need their own category,” I suggest.

“Guess you’re right.”

We reach the refreshments – there’s nothing there except bowls of punch in a variety of colors. Valentina pours us both some of the phosphorescent punch at the center of the table. I bring it to my mouth and recoil; It smells weird.

“What’s this supposed to be?” I grimace.

“You don’t know? It’s your dad’s recipe. You can call it ‘beginner’s blood’ punch. The veteran demons think we should gradually get used to blood, and this is basically the fruit juice of blood. It’s actually kind of nice.” She takes a sip from her cup and seems to enjoy it. I try to sip my drink, but the smell makes me so sick that I quickly push the cup away from me.

“Is this because the transformation is incomplete?” she examines me.

Yes, I suppose it is, but my reaction to Libretto’s blood was different from the one I had to the human’s. His blood was powerful, its smell so sharp that…

My breathing becomes labored as I replay the sensations in my mind, I can feel my throat closing up and my guts churning. The thought of Libretto’s blood drives me wild, and I lean against the refreshments table to support myself.

“Belle, are you okay? Your eyes…” She grabs my hand and pulls me out to the balcony, the first escape route she could find. “Breathe, Belle, slowly.” Valentina is trying to calm me down, and I lean on the railing and try to do as she says. She stands in front of me, taking deep breaths, and I imitate her, but the breaths don’t feel natural to me. My body doesn’t need them anymore, and I’m drowning deeper and deeper in my panic.

“Count with me,” she says when breathing doesn’t help. “One…” she draws out the word and I repeat it. When we reach ten, I feel the panic subsiding. “Wow, sis, what was that? Your eyes were glowing, and they were pure white!” she says as I finally calm down.

“I was thinking of blood…” I admit between gasps, but I won’t say exactly whose blood I was thinking of.

“You’ve tasted blood already?!” I shake my head. “Damn, there must really be a point to that gradual exposure thing after all. You totally lost it. Wait, when did you get exposed to blood? The rules say that’s not allowed.”

“The head of the Council offered me some,” I whisper as if it’s a secret, and say nothing further.

“He made the rules, he probably knew what he was doing… but why?”

“Maybe he was testing me to see whether I’m really a demon, because look at me, I really don’t look like I belong here,” I answer angrily. That guy was totally right, I feel like a fish out of water.

“Don’t worry, that’s what I’m here for. Though I’d have been happier to be prepared for the job in advance. This is totally fucked up.”

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