And it became my world. I became addicted to Dark Eyes, to the house, to the vamps. I didn’t let them feed on me the way that Shannon did, I wasn’t into the blood play kind of thing (no kink shaming here), but I wanted to be a part of it all in every way that I could. When I wasn’t at my bartending jobs or with my mom, I was hanging out here, soaking up the atmosphere, feeling like I finally found a place where I belonged. It was enough that Solon offered me a job, working for him at Dark Eyes as a bartender. He told me he could give me and my mother a better life.
At the time, I was too afraid to consider it. Despite how natural it felt to hang around vampires all day, they were still predators and not all of the vamps that stepped inside the club to feed respected me the same way that Solon, Wolf and Ezra did. I was human—prey in their eyes—and working here would bring risk into my daily life, no matter how Solon promised I would be protected.
But then Solon’s word became reality.
I was attacked one night walking back home.
My attacker, some man, some ordinary shitty human, was going to rape me, possibly kill me.
And Solon appeared when I needed him most.
He saved me.
Killed the man.
And I was forever in his debt after that.
Still am.
My mother and I moved into the house and we never looked back. Before, my mother worked numerous jobs as a maid, and together we could barely pay our rent. Now, we both live in this house on the second floor, we get a hefty salary, and everything is paid for. I run Dark Eyes, sometimes as a bartender, other times I manage things like the guest list, party planning, etc. My mother is the housekeeper, cleaning and cooking meals that the vamps rarely touch (they appreciate and occasionally eat food, just not as much as they do blood), and keeping the old house in tip-top shape.
And, eight years later, here I am in an Elvira costume, putting on my first Halloween party for vampires.
“How do I look?” I ask Lenore as she sits on the corner of my bed, drinking a glass of red wine. It’s evening and the party should start in an hour or so, and even though I’m working, I’m already getting my pre-game boozing on.
“Sexy mama,” Lenore says, eyeing my chest, which is fully on display in my skimpy black gown. “I mean, whoa. You’re going to cause some trouble tonight, I can tell.”
“Well, the Mistress of the Dark wasn’t known for her subtlety,” I say, adjusting my boobs in the low-cut dress before gently patting down my hair. I have naturally black, long hair that took about an hour to tease and backcomb into an Elvira-esque bouffant.
“You aren’t known for your subtlety either,” she points out. She then looks down at her clothes. “And now I’m feeling hella unsexy.”
“Whatever, your costume is hilarious,” I assure her. Lenore is dressed up as Carol Baskin from the Netflix show Tiger King, complete with a leopard print top, jeans, and a flower crown on her highlighted hair. The selling piece is the stuffed tiger under her arm.
“It was supposed to be even more hilarious when I thought Solon would dress up as Joe Exotic.”
I laugh. “Please don’t tell me you actually thought Solon would dress up at all, let alone as a mulleted redneck from Florida.”
She shrugs, sulking slightly. “I don’t know, I thought he’d do it for me.”
“Did you try compelling him?”
“Yeah,” she says sheepishly. “Obviously didn’t work. That vampire’s mind is like a fortress. My powers are weak compared to his.”
“Oh, I think you have far more power and persuasion over Solon than you realize,” I tell her. “It’s called love. He’s just not crazy, that’s all.”
“Not anymore anyway,” she says under her breath. Then she finishes the rest of her wine and waves her glass at me. “Bone dry. Come on, Elvira, let’s get the party started.”
She gets off the bed and walks toward the door.
I wave at her to go on. “I’ll see you down there in a bit, I have some more makeup to do.”
She frowns at me, probably because I’m already wearing the full Elvira face—dark red lipstick, dramatic black eye makeup, pale foundation—and then shrugs and leaves the room.
Truth is, my face is done. I dabbled in makeup artistry right after high school, thinking that might be a career choice, until I couldn’t afford the classes anymore, so I’m usually the one putting makeup on the both of us for girls nights out or fancy soirees at Dark Eyes. Tonight though, I want to bring my expertise to the reluctant one in the bedroom above mine.