Part 11 (1/2)
A few minutes later, the elevator doors slide open and we enter a grand foyer. This place makes the aboveground area look like a peasant's shack. There are multiple chandeliers hanging at different lengths from the cathedral ceilings, beautiful paintings adorning gold-colored walls, and cozy couches around great big fireplaces. It looks like the lobby of the most elegant hotel in the world.
”Wow, this is beautiful,” I remark, forgetting they all hate me and I'm trying to keep a low profile. ”Totally cool.”
”Totally,” mimics Susan. The other two stifle giggles.
A glare from Jareth convinces me to keep my mouth shut. Even though they're so asking for it, obviously.
Refusing to let them get me down, I walk over to one of the paintings to examine it closer. ”Is this a da Vinci?” I ask in awe.
I took art history two semesters in a row (okay, I flunked the first time around) and I definitely see the likeness to his other works, but don't recognize the painting.
”Yes,” says Elizabeth. ”One of his later works.”
”It looks . . . new,” I say, puzzled. It's then that I notice the Virgin Mary is wearing legwarmers and Jesus Christ has a Cabbage Patch Kid tucked away in the manger. ”Uh, really new.”
”Yes. That one's from his nineteen-eighties period,” Katie says.
I laugh. ”Ha, ha. Very funny.”
”She's not joking,” says Susan. ”In fact, Leonardo painted some of his finest works between eighty-two and ninety-nine.”
”Dude, I hate to break it to you, but the guy's been dead a thousand-” I stop. ”Wait a second. Is he a . . . ?”
”Italian Renaissance Coven Number 109,” Katie recites. ”Of course now all his works are only found in private collections like this. We can't let mortals know he's still painting.”
Wow. I can't believe Leonardo da Vinci is a vampire. I wonder how many other ancient celebrities are still kicking it underground these days.
”We vampires believe that the masters' works were far too important to simply bow to this mortal coil,” Katie further explains. ”So we turned most of them into vampires. Musicians like Mozart, painters like Michelangelo, writers like Dante. They still produce amazing art to this day. Though Mozart's been in a real tiff lately after someone leaked his new concerto over the Internet before its official release date. He's so against Internet piracy.”
”Oh, and Michelangelo's completely given up the chiseling statues out of stone thing now that Pixar's got him on staff for their new David and Goliath flick,” adds Susan. ”Of course we all told him the censors wouldn't go for the no-fig-leaf look in a G- rated pic, but does he listen?”
”Oh, and Dante?” Elizabeth says. ”He's given up Divine Comedy to work on the situational type. Though I'm not sure the Everybody Hates Satan pilot he's producing is going to get picked up by the network. It just seems a little bleak for a sitcom, what with all those tortured people in various circles of h.e.l.l and all.” ”Wow. Just. . . wow.” I say. I heard rumors there were a lot of famous vamps walking the earth, but I had no idea they were so busy. And here I am all concerned about graduating high school. I wonder what I can accomplish with immortality.
Katie clears her throat. ”So, if we're done with Art History 101, shall we retire to the library for drinks?” she asks. ”After all, we have a lot of catching up to do.”
”Sounds lovely,” Jareth says. ”Lead the way. Of course it's been ages since I've visited.”
”Yes, dreadfully too long,” coos Elizabeth, putting an arm around my boyfriend's shoulders. Susan flanks him on the other side, wrapping her arm around his waist. I grit my teeth and claw at my palms and remind myself this is only for one night.
If I can just put up with their antics now, Jareth will think I'm a wonderful, patient, open-minded person and he'll be glad that I'm his blood mate for all eternity. If I can survive the night.
Katie leads the way, down the foyer and through a set of double doors and into a cozy library. The place is floor-to-ceiling books, all hardbound and embossed with gold lettering. I'm dying to know what they're about, but it seems rude to just start pulling out volumes. Not to mention if there's some secret bookcase door that's hinged on the right book being pulled out (like always happens in old English movies) I don't want to accidentally trigger it. Tres embarra.s.sing.
We sit down on comfy leather couches and Katie rings a h.e.l.l. A moment later a servant-type appears. He's old, probably in his late sixties, with thinning white hair. He's dressed in a tuxedo and walks with a slight limp. Definitely not a vampire. Interesting that they have human servants here. Do they double as blood donors, I wonder?
”Charles, go into the cellar and get us a vintage O negative,” requests Elizabeth.
”Ooh, good choice,” chimes in Susan. ”Get the one from Marie Antoinette. After all, this is a night of celebration to have our dear brother Jareth back from the United States.”
The servant bows and exits the library.
”Uh, Marie Antoinette?” I question, a little nervously.
”We have some very expensive bloods in our possession,” explains Katie. ”Bottled and stored until we decide to indulge.”
”You're serving us blood of Marie Antoinette? Like, the real person? The queen of France?” Wow, that's crazy.
”Would you rather we let you eat cake?” quips Susan.
I roll my eyes at her lame joke. ”But I thought, like, she was executed during the French Revolution. Is she a vampire, too?”
”No. She's dead. Duh. You can't really go back from being beheaded. And besides, how would we have a bottle of her blood lying around if she were undead and well?”
I guess that's true. ”So then how . . . ?”
”Vampires a.s.sisted with that rebellion,” explains Susan. ”Did you really think that the peasants could have toppled a monarchy with no a.s.sistance? Please. They were too busy picking lice off their unbathed bodies.”
”Royal blood is always extra rich,” adds Elizabeth. ”Good diet and all. So when each monarch was beheaded, there was a vampire bottler on hand to collect the blood.”
”Wow, that's, um, fascinating?” Actually I think it's really, really disgusting, but I'm still trying to cling to manners here.
Katie smiles smugly. ”We here at the Blood Coven of Northern England have a pretty extensive blood cellar. We've got a couple of bottles of Henry the Eighth, Shakespeare. Even a half bottle of Jack the Ripper, if you're in the mood for something adventurous.”
I'm pretty sure I'll never be that adventurous. I can't even stomach fresh blood, never mind the bottled bodily fluids of a serial killer from the nineteenth century. And I'm pretty sure I'm not up for any French queen blood tonight either. Hopefully they'll decide it's far too expensive to waste on a newbie Yank Goth vamp and I won't have to make a scene by turning it down.
”In any case,” Jareth says. ”Rayne and I are here on official business. We are looking for a Lycan community somewhere in this vicinity. They may have infected some of our local townspeople and we need to find out if there's an antidote for the disease.”
”Try the town of Appleby,” suggests Susan. ”Last I heard there was a Lycan pack living there. Order of the Gray Wolf, I believe they're called.”
”They live in towns?” I ask, surprised. I don't know why but I figured they all hung out in dark, dank caves or something.
You know, being werewolves and all. ”Even though on full-moon nights they go all beastie and stuff?”
”The pack is not immortal like vampires, but as a whole they've existed for thousands of years,” says Elizabeth. ”They have learned the art of controlling their metamorphoses.”
”Meta-?”
”Their change to wolf form. They don't rely on the pull of the moon. They can change at will and control their actions in their feral forms.”
”Ah, handy. And much better for the other townspeople.”
”Go to the Tavern of the Moon and inquire there. That's where the pack spends most of its time,” says Susan. ”Ask for a man named Lupine. He's the alpha wolf, leader of the pack. Tell him we sent you. He should be able to help.”
”What I don't understand though is how your local townspeople came to be infected,” says Katie. ”I mean, Ly-cans are much like vampires. Very selective in adding members to the pack. They don't just take anyone. In fact, most people are only Lycans through birth. And even if they were turned for some reason, they would never, ever be sent off on their own- unprepared and untrained. It doesn't make any sense.”
”I agree. Which is why we need to seek out this order and find out what happened,” Jareth says. ”Otherwise these lone wolves may have to be put to sleep.” He turns to me. ”Tomorrow we will head over to Appleby to see what we can learn from this Order of the Gray Wolf.”