Page 3 of The Stars and the Stage
Like us, Diego hadn’t said. They hadn’t known they were trans or queer yet, and even if Maddox had already admitted, quietly, that sometimes he found boys of a more feminine persuasion attractive, he’d never put a label to that, hadn’t tried to claim any space in a community where its men were dying and their president seemed content to ignore it so long as it only killedthe gays.
“Like them,”Diego had finished.
Now Diegowasthem—a queer and a vampire—living in a world where one of those things had been nearly killed off by a plague, and humans were doing their best to starve the other to extinction. Humans like the teenager Maddox had been, his fingers curling with revulsion, as though he’d known even then that he was about to ruin their life.
Ten fucking years, he’d waited. Ten fucking years.
Diego had let him go for good reason. He could speak all the pretty words he wanted, but he’d burned their trust with his actions.
If he thought he would earn it back through mere apologies, he was wrong.
2
Diego stood before their dressing room mirror again, their starry outfit donned and their hair nearly finished. With the first session of their new power-dynamic dinner event series starting in half an hour, the backstage areas were a vibrant, bustling mess, nothing like the awkward Tuesday evening when Maddox had knocked on the club’s side door last week.
“How many are we expecting will claim my fangs tonight?” Diego asked as Serina slid their final strand of gems into place, the faux sapphires and diamonds glittering like the real things across Diego’s hair.
Serina looked just as impeccable, her black curls straightened and pulled up into a feathery bun and the cornrows on her scalp fixed with tiny detachable beads for the night. With so many managerial tasks on her plate, she no longer acted in the events herself, but she always dressed up to match. No one else knew as well as her when to step in if a client got out of hand, or a couple lost their sense of the game, or someone just needed a little encouragement to take their first step.
Serina hummed. “We had seven human singles RSVPed, but I left space for a few more walk-ins. And you never know who might fall head over heels for you, leave their own set of fangs gaping behind them as they pledge you eternal love,” she teased, giving Diego’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re going to knock them dead.”
“I hope not.” Diego’s lips quirked. “We wouldn’t get very far without recurring customers.”
Serina laughed.
Diego stared at the mirror long after she moved on. A soft, anxious buzz lingered beneath their skin. They forced themself to breathe in, then out again. They’d played plenty of lead roles as of late, progressing from side characters to one-on-one partners for a human who didn’t have a vampire of their own to act through the game with and, finally, to the guiding force of the event. But in the past, they’d still known ahead of time who they’d be paired up with. Tonight they would have to choose in the moment, while making that choice believable.
And, while they tried not to let it, Maddox’s appearance had shaken Diego to the roots of their fangs.
Everything they’d worked so hard to heal had been scraped raw again with a single apology. One glance had burned his young cruelty back into them. It was far easier for Diego to work a job where they offered their bite—their lips and their venom and the light, sensual touches that came with—to paying customers when their mind wasn’t suddenly crawling with the way Maddox had looked at their fangs the night he’d first seen them. The disgust, the hatred, the terror. Or how not a trace of those emotions had remained when he’d stood beyond the club’s door on Tuesday.
Diego shook their head. That meant nothing. Sure, he’d apologized, and maybe he’d grown enough to no longer see their vampirism as a monstrosity, but that was the bare minimum any humancoulddo, and tonight Diego would be surrounded by those who saw what they were as a blessing, not a curse. Tonight, Diego Figueroa would reign, the vampire lord of Celestia, in search of their esteemed prey. And their beautiful, terrible Maddy would be nowhere in sight.
The Celestial Club was a place of magic.
Not real magic, of course—science and study had proven that the legendary mythos of immortal vampires who cloaked themselves in darkness and werewolves who transformed into majestic animals were wild overstatements. But for all that their society had accomplished in the twentieth century, people still wanted something to enchant them, to take their breath away. That was what the club offered, from the players to the stage, the crown to the stars.
Serina had transformed the massive warehouse space inch by inch, constructing a labyrinth of wood, paper, and glass walls, twinkling lights erected above with such precision that at a glance it looked real, shining down brighter and fuller than the smog and light-polluted LA night sky had in decades. From room to room, event to event, the club would shift: a fantastical medieval throne, or a Victorian ball, or a crumbling gothic castle with blood-red table clothes and flickering candles, all centralized around the small, cushioned chambers where guests could escape for more private fun. Years ago, Diego had been drawn by the pay bump that came with attending those secluded engagements, but they’d quickly found that it wasn’t their preferred form of acting. They were made for a wider audience.
Tonight would be their largest yet.
This event’s main space was one of the more fantastical: a gothic dining hall turned as salaciously starry as the club’s name, with glimmering deep blue spreads over the long tables that ran on three sides, the central floor empty beneath the warehouse’s fictional night sky. More twinkling lights were scattered between crystal dishware. Glittering silver shone from the sheer drapes that swathed walls and chairs and couches, the whole scene abounding with gold accents, dark velvet and white lilies.
It was glorious. And for the next three weeks, it was Diego’s.
They could already hear the little crowd of forty or so guests gathering in the central event space, each attendee’s entrance announced with their selected title. Most were couples of vampires and humans, though some came in larger partnered groups or as singles paying extra for an actor to pair with them for the event. The club’s events ranged from casual solitary nights to month-long sessions where the most dedicated might attend nearly all of the five open days a week, and while some catered towards specific power imbalances—most commonly vampires whose humans played as blood slaves—this particular one had been designed for a lighter, less restricted style of dominance, with intensified chivalry and tests of love. Like the one Diego was meant to use to select their event partner.
“You ready?” the platonic love of Diego’s life asked, flashing his fangs.
Valentine’s serving outfit hid just how important he’d be for the event, charged with helping Diego monitor and maintain the game’s thrilling but safe atmosphere as he carried out Diego’s commands. If anything went terribly wrong, the slim sword at his hip was far from pretend. He held Diego’s crown metaphorically, just as much as he did literally, cradling the silver circlet between his gloved fingertips. It had been like that since the moment they’d first arrived at the club, two months apart, Diego all rage and Valentine a flighty, uncertain mess, three years younger but already far more experienced in the prejudices against his vampirism. They had taken to each other like long-lost family, vowing a bond stronger than blood. Diego’s heart still yearned for the drama and fire of a romantic relationship, but if Valentine was the only partner the universe ever saw fit to give them, his love would be enough.
There was no one else Diego would rather have had at their side, in life or in the theater.
They smirked, straightening their shoulders. “I was born for this.”
It didn’t matter that it was a clichéd quote, it was the truth. As Valentine lowered their silver circlet onto their jewel-strewn head, Diego felt the world shift to accommodate. Tonight, they were all powerful. Invincible. Nothing Maddox Burke had done, or could ever do, would hurt them.
Diego stepped out of the veiled backstage to the majestic dimming of the lights. The crowd quieted reverently, as though Diego truly was their esteemed sovereign, finally descending into their midst.
