31. An Invitation (T)
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It was around three o'clock Sunday morning and the club was fairly quiet. The guests were all gone, the front doors were locked, and the staff were going about their clean-up duties. The lights had been turned up a little brighter so the humans could see what they were doing. There was still some music playing but it was quiet, in the background. It was a playlist of old eighties pop songs.

No points for guessing who's music that was. Every now and then I caught my girlfriend quietly singing along with Cyndi Lauper or Belinda Carlisle.

The upper level had already been cleaned and we had a little velvet rope across the staircase so the humans would know not to come upstairs. Zach and Reuben already knew, and with their enhanced hearing they could even listen in on our conversation if they wanted.

The three of us were sitting at a table towards the back of the upper level. Sam and I were on one side and our DJ sat on the other side. She had a glass of white wine in front of her, the two of us had tumblers with a couple ounces of warmed blood.

Meg asked, "I'm not in some kind of trouble am I? I hope you're not going to fire me?"

"Not at all," Sam replied with a smile. "We're really happy with you. You do really good sets, and the customers love you. I think it's pretty obvious you're our most popular DJ."

She seemed to relax a little, and had a sip of her wine.

My girlfriend continued, "In fact, Tara and I have been impressed enough we'd like to make you an offer."

Meg set her glass down and asked, "What kind of offer?"

Sam looked at me. I'd originally said I wanted to sit in on the conversation but somehow that turned into me being an active participant. Except I wasn't really sure how to even broach the subject.

I hesitated, "You've probably heard some rumours about Sam and me? Some uh, unusual rumours?"

Our DJ looked back and forth between us then shrugged, "Sure. There's a few stories going around, but I honestly don't bother myself with that sort of thing. You two have been really nice, the pay here's pretty good, and you two gave me a chance when nobody else would. That's a lot more important than whatever crazy stuff the rumour mill churns out."

"That's good to hear," I replied. "But what if some of the rumours were actually true?"

Meg frowned slightly then had another sip of her wine. She looked uncertain, but finally answered "If you two are into some kind of organized crime stuff, I don't really want to know about it. And I definitely don't want to be involved. I guess I'm honoured that you'd ask me? But yeah, no. I just do music ok? I'm not looking for trouble."

I had no idea how to react to that.

"Wait." Sam sounded like she was trying not to laugh as she asked, "People actually think we're mobsters or something? They think we're mafiosos?"

The redhead looked back and forth between us, she was obviously uneasy or maybe even downright nervous. She nodded slowly, "Yeah. How else could you afford to own a place like this? The rumours say one or both of your dads are a big deal in some crime family, and they set this place up to launder money and let you two pretend to run it. They say Reuben's here to actually run the place, and he also works as muscle or something, to keep you two safe?"

Samantha looked at me then giggled, "Oh fuck that's hilarious! Trying to imagine my dad as a crime boss!"

She looked back at Meg and added through more giggles, "My dad ran a printing press at a publishing company."

I scowled slightly, "My dad's an accountant. Not for the mob, but for a big multinational in Toronto. And even if he did have the kind of money to set up a place like this, there's no way in hell he'd do it. Not for me, anyways."

Meg was obviously uncomfortable as she looked back and forth between us. She picked up her glass and drained the rest of her wine then asked, "Ok so if you're not inviting me to join the mob, what are you saying?"

Sam took over again, she picked up her glass and had a gulp of blood. "We're vampires, Megan. I was born in nineteen seventy, turned in nineteen eighty-eight. My fifty-fifth birthday was back in May. Tara's a little younger, she was turned seven years ago. She's just twenty-nine."

"Uh," our DJ looked even more uncomfortable. "Yeah. That's not... I think the crime-lord rumour was more believable."

I picked up my glass and had a gulp then said, "Meg? We're sitting here in front of you drinking warmed blood."

She rolled her eyes, "C'mon. It's just tomato juice."

I set my glass down directly in front of her, and she picked it up and sniffed it as she swirled it around. Her eyes widened and when she looked up at me I revealed my fangs.

Meg's face went pale and she set the glass down as she gasped, "Holy fuck! You aren't kidding!"

"Yeah," I nodded. "And that's what we want to offer you. We like you, you do good work, and you're an important part of our club. So Sam and are inviting you to join another, much more exclusive club."

Sam continued, "We're offering you eternal youth. You'll never age, never get sick. Increased strength, speed, and enhanced senses. There's other advantages we can discuss if you're interested."

"There are some caveats though," I added. "We're technically dead. No heartbeat, we don't need to breath. We don't eat food, don't drink liquor or anything else for that matter. We live on blood, but we generally don't kill anyone for it. We get most of our meals from willing participants, and they get something out of the arrangement too."

Meg continued to stare at us both with wide eyes. She was still pale, she looked wary but not scared. She gulped and asked, "So what about the legends and stuff? You sleep in coffins? Can't go out in the daytime? Crosses and holy water and all that?"

I shook my head, "All lies. We sleep in a big comfortable bed in a condo with a balcony view of The Forks. We're nocturnal and we get sunburns easier than humans, but long sleeves and dark sunglasses take care of that. And you're already in a job that's practically nocturnal, right? It wouldn't be a big adjustment for you."

"So you can't eat food or drink booze or anything ever again?" she asked.

Samantha replied, "You can. It won't hurt you, but vamps can't digest that stuff so it just passes through untouched basically. If you enjoy eating food you can do it, or if you're socializing with humans you can eat to fit in. The only thing that'll sustain you though is blood."

I added, "We don't need a lot. A pint is enough to last us almost a week. One meal, once a week."

Meg looked back and forth between the two of us. She still looked uneasy, but I could tell she was also interested. Or at least curious.

After a few seconds she asked "Is there anything else? I mean, there must be something more right?"

She looked at Sam and added, "From what you just said, you were only eighteen right? You couldn't have been worried about growing old at that age. Why'd you do it?"

My girlfriend and I exchanged a glance, then she replied quietly "Yeah, there's more. A lot more. Stuff that none of the legends and myths have ever touched on..."

Sam took a deep breath then continued in a low voice, "When someone's turned, the body has to rebuild itself. It changes, from a dead human to a living vampire. While that process is happening, the body is sort of in a state of flux? And in that state, the changes can be controlled, manipulated, by the vamp who did the turn. Or by the sire or dame of the vamp who did the turn."

"What does that mean," Meg asked warily. "Controlling or manipulating the body?"

My girlfriend replied softly, "You're not the only trans girl here, Meg. I was AMAB, and in nineteen eighty-eight trans folk didn't have a lot of options. And there was next to no information out there, no internet or anything. I didn't even know there was a word for it at the time, that being trans was a thing. So I got lucky, a vamp came along and made me this offer. I died looking like a guy, and woke up like this. Instant transition."

Meg's eyes widened as she listened, and she looked back and forth between Sam and I.

Sam kept her voice down as she continued, "Just to spell it out and make it perfectly clear, that means no more need for hormones. No need for surgery of any kind. Personally I think the result is almost as good as being AFAB, but bear in mind we are still dead. That means no menstruation and no chance of pregnancy, which might be a blessing or a curse depending on your point of view."

I took over while keeping my voice equally quiet, "A few things can't change. Your age stays the same, whatever age you die at is how old you'll be forever. Though obviously some cosmetic changes can make you look a bit older or younger. And you'll always be you. Your soul or spirit, your mind, sense of self, whatever you want to call it? That's untouched. Other things however are malleable. Things like height, body shape, even cosmetic stuff? That can all be done during the turning process."

Sam finished with a warning, "The big caution about this is these changes can only happen during that brief window while the body is rebuilding itself. After that, it's over. That's the new you, forever. Vamps can't do surgery, cosmetic or otherwise. We don't grow, age, or change. So you need to be positive going into it that you're going to like what you get."

"And you have to trust the vamp who's turning you," I added. "You're trusting them with your life, and your death."

All this information came from that big old book, which described in detail the entire process of turning someone. That was a real eye-opener for both Sam and me. What we found in Isabelle's journal on the topic was a lot more upsetting. There were entries describing her initial experiments on Samantha.

Our former matriarch didn't lie about the turning process making new vamps look similar to their sire or dame. But she never told Sam that the process could be controlled, the body could be manipulated while it was remaking itself. In her notes she described pushing that process, experimenting to see how far from the 'baseline' she could manipulate my girlfriend's body.

Sam should have come out with a similar body-type to Isabelle or Cynthia, and a similar height too. It was no accident or fluke she wound up petite and with a gymnast's figure.

It was even worse for me. Sam didn't know about any of this when she turned me, and if nobody interfered then I'd have probably come out like I expected - taller and more athletic.

Isabelle reported the results of her experiments on Samantha to the then-matriarch Claudia, which meant thirty years later the Slúag Marb that possessed Isabelle's body also knew about them. And as Sam's Dame, Isabelle would have been able to control my turn.

My five-foot-nothing busty pipsqueak body was no accident, and it wasn't because of anything Samantha did or didn't do. It had to have been done intentionally, and Isabelle was the only one who could have done it.

I was just starting to accept my undead body for what it was. Just starting to let go of the dysphoria and disappointment, when I discovered none of this was random chance or the result of a mistake. The realization that it was a deliberate act left me with a lot of frustrated anger. Sam felt it too. She'd learned to accept who and what she was long before we met, but this new information reopened old wounds for her.

And the person who was responsible, who I wanted to confront and demand answers from, was already dead. I was left with the knowledge that this was done to me on purpose, and there was no way to fix it or change it. And no way to get any closure from the one who made it happen. I couldn't even ask why she did it. All I had was the satisfaction of knowing I burned her body from the inside out with silver, before Rueben cut off her head.

"Wow," Meg finally said. "This is... It's a lot to take in."

Samantha nodded, "I know. You don't have to come up with an answer right now. Take some time and think it over. We do ask that you keep everything we've discussed here to yourself. For obvious reasons we don't want any of this knowledge getting out into the public."

Our DJ nodded, "Yeah I understand. Not that anyone would believe me anyways, but yes of course I'll keep it to myself."

A moment later she frowned and glanced towards the stairs. Some of her coworkers were still tidying up, Zach would be putting away the last of the liquor, Reuben would be closing out the registers for the night.

"What about everyone else?" Meg asked. "Are they all uh, vampires too?"

I shook my head, "Not all of them. We won't say who, but Sam and I aren't the only ones here. If you join the club, you'll figure out pretty quickly who is and who isn't."

"Ok," she nodded slowly. "Thanks again for the offer. I think I'm going to go home now and sleep on it."

"Have a good night," Sam replied.

The two of us watched as the redhead got to her feet. She had a thoughtful look on her face as she slowly made her way down the staircase then disappeared from view.

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