It took almost an hour in the evening traffic before the car slowed to a stop outside The Guss. It was blue-blooded, new, modern‒meaning it could have been demolished with a hit from a misplaced truck. But it was the boast of Oakley and had the air of prestige about it- or maybe that was just all the limos and taxis loitering and slowly dropping people off at the doorstep.

Nothing was built like the old days. Fake granite lions on the stairs, a blue carpet welcome rolled right down to the curb, a few nominal steps, large open-plan glass doors. A pair of hotel bouncers in black suits stood stoically at either end of the doors and young, handsome blood-donors mingled at the entrance, watching the cars arrive like anxious prom-dates. Most were male, but a few women interspersed in the crowd of mortal groupies.

Even though the council keeps a low profile as undead, we still attract groups of mortals. The sort that we’ve groomed from children and families that we support for centuries; although younger men like the two the Shark had sent would be cruising bars, picking up dates rather than mingling with the crowd here. Modern vampires favoured hunting in public over cultivating loyal and happy cattle. From that sort of stock came the donors around the door. Young, eager things that barely understood what their hosts were, let alone why they craved our touch.

It was, in Caine’s opinion, dangerous to hunt like that. Including new blood too much led to the sort of problems we’d had during the reign of the Spanish Inquisition. I sat on the railing with such concerns- I’d heard enough stories about ancient vampires dying during those years because they treated their donors poorly.

My stomach clenched just looking at all the flesh on display. I hated fasting for these stupid events, and we would not get to the Donors until after the night’s entertainment. That meant I would be tired and starving by the time we finally got to eat.

The leather, lace, vinyl covered arteries; thin black neck lining, tight buttocks and heavenly scent of sexual arousal were overwhelming. It was difficult to stay awake after that. Council powwows were so boring.

I turned my attention back to the other arrivals. Vampires didn’t gather in large groups often, and even though I was no freshly bitten child, it was vaguely exciting. There was a line of limousines in front of us and I watched as a woman in a bright red gown got out of the car, her perfectly manicured hands slipping into that of her escort’s with dainty effort. She was all red hair and pale flesh with breasts that threatened to fall out of her dress with every step‒the Scarlet, one of the other female Dominus, although I had no idea if they had given her the title because she had talent or, if it was just for show. She had, to my knowledge, never fought anything or anyone.

The short vampire in the tuxedo helping her stand in her twelve-inch heels was probably Max the Red. Despite the easy joke of the Red owning Scarlet—the reason that he had her as an escort at all—neither were vampires I would target for my entertainments. I had almost gotten my arm ripped off the last time I had dared to offend the Scarlet with my usual antics. The bitch had no sense of humour‒I had only made a question of her promiscuity. Maybe she had changed in the last three hundred years, but from the look she was giving one of the donors, I doubted it.

In her defence, we were all hard-pressed to ignore the nubile, young bodies on display. The temptation was intoxicating, it would not surprise me if they had been told to gather deliberately. The Emperor had a cruel sense of humour. Temptation also weeded out the young and weak Dominus.

When I’d been made in the winter of 1314 a famine had hit Europe the very next year; in those days you lived and died when the populace lived and died. You learned not to be greedy with blood. I could fast with the best of them.

Another car emptied and the Spider stepped. I had seen him once before, visiting at a court I had been entertaining in England, but he had only been there briefly. That had to have been sixteen-sixty- three hundred and fifty years ago. The man was a recluse. He rarely attended these council meetings and he was old enough that the Emperor clearly didn’t pressure him about it. Normally he sent his agent Broderick to represent him.

He was tall, with hair a rare platinum blonde that is normally only natural in the northern European ancestry, sharply defined cheek bones, and he wore a well-cut Italian suit that was obviously custom-made. I always go to Italy for my suits; ever since I was old enough to travel on my own as a vampire.

I sighed dramatically. I would love to tease him tonight, but he was one of the most powerful Dominus still living. It did not pay to fuck with them unless you knew they could take a joke.

Scarlet turned as the Spider came up the steps behind Max and her, immediately giving him a sly, overly large grin and an obviously contrite greeting. I grinned when he walked past her as if she was only one of the donors. Her expression became sour at his dismissal.

It made me like the Spider almost instantly, if only because, like any of my kind, I never forget an insult or unkindness‒and Scarlet was often both of these.

Our door opened and the two young vampires got out, standing primly for a moment as they adjusted their coats before walking up the steps, smiling and nodding. Perhaps they were in Public Relations back home. It was almost embarrassing to watch others preening and showing themselves off in such extravagant ways‒that is, it would be if I was not about to do so very much worse.

Caine nodded to me and I bounced out of the car like an excited child, jumping over the car door and rolling onto my hands. I tipped myself up into the air and walked up the first few steps on my palms. The bells on my feet jingling in a faint tune. Eyes flew to me. The Spider had paused at the Guss’ front door and watched me. The Scarlet turned dramatically to catch a glimpse of my feet where a head should be. The donors watched, voices murmured.

I took a few steps on my palms, teetering for show. I could walk for a while like that, and long, long years of practice made it quite effortless. But there were other humans present that were not privy to our nature.

I back-flipped and landed gracefully before turning at the hip, to bow formally to the King as he exited the car with his usual, casual grace‒his elegance to my buffoon. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The King advanced, I somersaulted around him, harried the Donors who came too close and generally made myself into a colourful, twirling body between him and the crowds at the front entrance.

I drew attention; I drew interest.

The King kept it.

My very presence said, “Come! Look at what I’m doing!”

His said, “I am important enough to have this highly trained monkey caterwaul around me; you should keep on my good side.”

That is, if one’s stature could talk in such certain terms.

I was bright and colourful, like a bird fleeing before a lion’s stalking grace, and Caine was the lion. To put myself in such a submissive role did not bother me. We worked well together with this method. Nearly two-hundred years had seen that we had a routine of presentation down pat.

He handed his invitation letter to the man at the door, curtly nodding to me as I pulled out a guest’s hair-clip, their annoyed yell nearly causing me to miss my cue.

I tossed the hairclip over my shoulder, spun around and produced my paper from the folds of my sleeve, moving so quickly that I simply must have appeared poised and holding out my hands, from the shocked look on the man’s face. Sometimes I do that when I’m not paying attention to my speed. I’m good at appearing human most days. Today was a stretch; surrounded by so many other vampires, I lacked a human model to imitate. We don’t need to breathe, we move much faster than you can see- and after a few hundred years we forget certain social necessities.

“It isn’t a costume party,” The bouncer said. He glanced nervously at the other guests that I would soon be blocking if I continued to attempt to get in to this posh and upper-class gathering. He didn’t know what to do with the clown. After all, this was a high-class business function.

I had never received this reaction before, this was the first council meeting since the 60’s, and people simply did not have the same expectation of manners. I assumed someone would come along to vouch for me eventually, but failing that, I might be the first Dominus not to attend the meeting because a bouncer stopped me.

I looked down, miming my shock and horror, even stumbling back as if I had been shot. Was this what I was wearing? When had it happened? Had someone dressed me while I took a nap? Where did the makeup come from?

“You know, Jester, people would let you in places if you just dressed like the rest of us for once.”

I knew the Emperor’s sweet voice even before I spun wildly, my hat flying off my head with the sudden turn. I caught it like it was on strings and pulled it back to my chest with a whiplash bow. An old routine but I never let a classic die.

Falling to my knees, making no attempt to hide my grin, I silently implored him to let me enter, pointing at the bouncer. My begging charade was completed as I mimed Greek theatre tears.

It was an impressive show of it, the harlequin crying to a twelve year old boy.

The Emperor was neatly dressed in a black shirt and matching slacks, his chocolate brown hair combed neatly like a Sunday schoolboy. His small arm was held in the elbow of the calm, middle-aged blonde woman beside him. Despite her chic crème Chanel business attire, she did not fool anyone, however. There was a sharpness in her eyes that spoke of her frozen soul.

The Torturer and the Emperor were always together.

I believed they might spontaneously combust if separated for longer than a few minutes.

He was small and dainty, caught eternally in the barely pubescent body of a high schooler. When asked, he claimed he had been fourteen when changed, but I never believed that. His voice had an unfortunate habit of occasionally breaking, something which made me feel incredibly sorry for him; although never to his face or out loud. You lived and died on this ‘boy’s’ whim.

I had at least been seventeen when changed; I could pass for an adult unless the humans upped the ridiculous laws about children and these ‘teenagers’ that had somehow come into being in the last hundred years. In my day, a man was a man when his voice broke. But then, human lifespan had doubled since then, so I guess we had some decent trade-offs.

Many of the vampires present‒the older ones‒all suffered this woe. We had been made in a time when a deep voice and once-a-month bleeding made you an adult.

You were old enough for children, marriage and undeath.

It had never occurred to any of us in those days that there would be introduced a transition stage, and that eliminating child-labour would be make it more difficult for those of us who did not age.

Contrarily, the Torturer, who, in appearance, was ancient for a vampire, was now the average age of a human adult.

She, like Scarlet, also lacked the basic fundamentals of humour and did not win any points with me. But, I had a wary respect for the woman as she held more power than most of the other vampires in the room. She’d been the Emperor’s tool for centuries, his monster, his punishment. If you did something wrong that got you in trouble but not enough for him to simply kill you; he sent you to the Torturer. I’ve never pissed him off enough to be at her mercy and that’s a lucky thing. While many would love to see me given to the Torturer for a night, I’d just as soon as swallow my own tongue. She scared me.

The Emperor laughed as I started crawling, and shook his head, merriment dancing in his boyish eyes as he looked to the bouncer, “You will have to let him in; he always does this. If you don’t, we’ll have to put up with him crawling all over the windows, moaning pathetically to get in.”

The bouncer gave me another worried glance before he took my invitation and let me through. Even if the Emperor was a twelve-year-old boy, there was something in him that creeped mortals out as much as the undead. I bowed and curtsied and scraped towards the Emperor to show my gratitude, earning more of his endearing laughs.

The glass doors closed behind us.