{{ the donor diaries: entry two; the monster mash }}
Who: Shosh & Cass
Where: The Dracula Mansion
When: April 2020; Easter Break; Henry William Halestorm’s Birthday
Cass was pretending that he was only doing this for Shosh. The truth was, he quite enjoyed dressing up when he had cause to. And this was properly dressing up- a black tailcoat, high waisted trousers, crisp white marcella shirt. Vampire society was high society, something he’d thankfully learned that Shoshana had considerable experience with, given her history as a classically trained pianist.
They’d spent the whole day together in his room, hanging out, writing music, getting ready for the evening. Shosh helped him with his cuff links, Cass helped her shimmy into her impossibly tight clothes.
As Cass took a bobby pin out of his mouth to slide into Shosh’s hair, he listened downstairs. Soft string music had been drifting upstairs for an hour or so now, and Cass listened for guests, something that was particularly hard given half of the guests lacked a heartbeat and the other half only really spoke when spoken to. He waited until most of the familiar voices had filled the ballroom before raising his brows at Shosh and giving a quick breath in and out.
“You wanna head downstairs?” Cass asked, knowing full well that Shosh had probably been ready to go to this party hours ago. He offered his arm, and as she took it, they waltzed out of his room, down his hall, and to the top of the stairs. He stiffened, sucking his teeth as he took in the room, flicking a glance to Shosh.
He hadn’t anticipated the strongest emotion that came up when he saw his father’s friends. Protectiveness swelled through him, his arm that was meant to steady Shosh tightened as the feeling swelled in his chest. It was so surprising and uncomfortable that Cass couldn’t put words to it, so he just shrugged at her look, and then started downstairs.
Shoshana would never admit that she was nervous. But as the hours ticked on hidden away up in Cass’ room on the day of the soiree, her stomach knotted more and more noticeably as the party drew nearer. She hadn’t even felt like eating, but Cass had her on a fairly strict iron-rich regimen and Shosh figured it was especially important tonight that her blood smell appealing, so she ate what he gave her anyway and kept herself otherwise distracted with writing some new music, and studying the thick binder she’d filled with Cass’ lessons on vampire society (even though Shosh had it well memorized at this point), and taking extra time getting dressed. Which, admittedly, was fun for Shosh—she’d always loved dressing up, and it was satisfying to put Cass into clothing that actually looked quite good on him without him pitching a fit over it.
It’s not that Shosh was nervous they wouldn’t like her; plenty of people didn’t care for Shosh and it never made the slightest scuff on her brimming self-confidence. It was more that she wanted this, a lot—more so than she was openly showing to Cass. And in all other areas of her life, Shosh knew what she was good at and what she wasn’t, so she could rely on succeeding with flying colors at the things she was good at and not bothering with what she wasn’t. But here, there was uncertainty. She’d done everything she could to prepare based on what Cass had taught her, but would that be enough to prepare her for the real thing?
Still, she replied with a nervous-excited “Sure,” when Cass asked if she was ready to go downstairs, and her heart rate picked up as she checked her reflection one more time—she’d forced Cass to bring her in a mirror for tonight, stating firmly that there was ‘no effing way’ she was getting into formal wear without one—and then took his offered arm.
Cass hesitated at the top of the stairs, and Shosh looked at him curiously. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this, after all? But he shrugged and her and she nodded back; too late to turn back, now. Showtime.
The first thing Shosh noticed was that people watched them as they came down the stairs; not everyone, but enough that Shosh straightened her spine and held her head up as they walked down the steps, thinking again of Eliza Doolittle trying to fool everyone into thinking she was royalty. And why shouldn’t you be? You’re the fucking Queen of Hearts for all they know, she told herself firmly. And Shosh looked it, too, in a red satin ballgown with a bateau neckline that showed off the pale, unmarked skin of her neck and collarbones—which did stand out in the sea of high necklines Shosh saw all around her. It would stamp her as a new donor, she’d been told, to show off this part of her body so brazenly. Which was fine with Shosh. She wanted people to look and to talk and to be jealous; in fact, the vengeful part of Shoshana wanted whispers of her being here to get back to one old bitch in particular.
It made sense that people looked; Henry was the host of the soiree, and Cass was his son. In fact it was him Shoshana was most eager to meet and most keen to impress. When they’d made it down the stairs and into the throng of partygoers, Shosh leaned close to Cass’ ear and said, “So, do you wanna introduce me to your dad first and get that out of the way? Or should we start smaller and work our way up?” She smirked sidelong at him, swaying to the delightful sound of the classical music coming from the string quartet—it felt like it had been a hot minute since she’d heard anything resembling her preferred type of music, and she missed it.
Cass nodded in greeting to a few people who made eye contact with him, largely ignoring the puzzled looks from donors who noted that he wasn’t there with Pomonia. The vampires, to his surprise, appeared largely unphased. As they made their way down to the main room, a waiter floated past with a tray of red wine. When Shosh reached for one, Cass deftly took it out of her hands and had a sip, himself, shaking his head. “White for you, red for me.” He explained, hoping that she would read between the lines about what was really in that cup.
He listened as his gaze scanned the room, internally only really looking for one person. When he was certain Pomonia wasn’t there, yet, he listened more intently to Shosh, blinking. “Uh, yeah. Father first. He’ll want to meet you.” Cass put the drink down on a tray that floated past them, then led Shosh across the room, swallowing as he approached his father, whose back was turned. Cass cleared his throat, and the vampire turned.
“Ah, Cassius, glad you finally decided to join us.” Henry said, amused. Henry was the spitting image of Cass. While Henry was over a century his senior, the vampire was frozen in time from his twenty first birthday, youthful features still showing, but his expression and manner were evident of a man from a bygone era.
Cass gave a sigh of irritation, then straightened when Henry’s expression shifted to Shosh. “Father, this is Shoshana Edelman. We’re in the same class at Hogwarts.” Normally, he’d introduce his father and his donor to Shosh, but in vampire society, their business came first.
“Charmed,” He said, in recognition of the girl, but then turned his gaze back to his son. “Where’s Pomonia?”
When his father said her name, Cass felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. That he’d been expecting her there, that his father knew nothing of what happened, absolutely wrecked him. Cass wet his lips, fingers tightening against his suit jacket. “Pomonia won’t be attending,” He said, and he saw his father’s frown deepen, so Cass spoke again. “I’ve taken on Shoshana as my new donor. We can talk about it later.” He insisted, though Henry’s expression showed that this conversation was very much not over.
“I’m sure we will.” Henry kept his voice measured, because he was in public, and the last thing he needed was for their friends to think his half-human son had lost his way. Then, he turned to the girl at Cass’s side. “Shoshana, then. A pleasure to meet you. My name is Henry, I’m Cassius’ father. My donor, Cynthia…” He cocked his head at the woman. Cynthia was a refined woman, like most of the other donors in the room. She held herself with grace and dignity, and looked down at Shosh like she was a bug that someone had forgotten to squash. “I’m sure we’ll spend plenty of time getting to know each other. I must admit, I haven’t heard your name before. Edelman, was it?”
Cass rolled his eyes. As if his vampire dad would forget anything. “Shosh is Muggleborn, father. She’s a classical pianist, actually. She and I play together pretty often.”
This made Henry’s eyes light up, looking at the girl with renewed interest. “Is that so? I’m glad you’re widening my son’s auditory horizons, then. I’ll have to have the piano brought from downstairs. It would be delightful to hear you play some time. I’d hoped to teach Cassius, but sadly it’s just sitting, gathering dust. He chose an electric guitar.” Henry said this, matter-of-factly.
Shosh licked her lips, her dark eyes still fixed on the deep red liquid in Cass’ glass with interest, but she folded her hands in front of her and nodded, to indicate she understood. “Right. Of course…” By comparison, she hadn’t yet seen a single tray carrying white wine, whereas she’d seen several with red—but she supposed that made sense. Alcohol, even when it wasn’t diluted by blood, had a much lesser effect on vampires than it did on humans. And no one wanted the donors getting drunk so soon into the party.
But, no matter, Shosh didn’t mind waiting; she wanted to have a clear head while she made all her most important introductions, anyway. And then if all went well, she’d enjoy a glass of white wine later as a reward for herself.
She followed where Cass walked, holding onto his arm, her pulse picking up. Breathe… When Henry turned to face them—and there was no mistaking who he was, not with his shocking resemblance to Cass—Shoshana smiled, bright and polite. Henry glanced at her cordially and Shosh blinked twice, smiling still, lashes fluttering, but it was clear this was not her turn to talk and she didn’t try to. She did feel Cass react, though, at the mention of Pomonia’s name, of course he did; Shosh kept her outward composure but she did squeeze his elbow where her fingers were still wrapped in the crook of his arm, supportively. I’m here. We can do this.
And then Cass asserted his intention to make her his new donor, and—even if all of this was just for show, even if Shosh knew, for once, the difference between what was real and what was imagined in this situation—even so, hearing Cass say it could not have filled her with a greater sense of pride. She stood up taller, beaming as Henry’s attention (and likely, momentarily, his scrutiny) returned to her. Shosh felt ready. Let’s do this.
“The pleasure is mine, Sir—I’ve heard so much about you…” she said, demure and downright humble in a way that was very un-Shoshana as she bent her knees just slightly to dip into a tiny, well-mannered curtsey. Her gaze then flickered up to Cynthia and Shosh inclined her head at the woman just a nudge in acknowledgment; she’d been briefed on the structural hierarchy in place here and instructed to let ranking vampires lead all conversation (“don’t speak unless spoken to”), so Shosh looked up at the woman briefly with a challenging gleam in her eyes but did not say anything to her, and then she turned her attention fully back on Henry.
She waited until Cass and his father had finished their exchange—of talking for her and about her as if Shosh wasn’t standing right there—before Shosh added with entirely genuine enthusiasm, “I would be honored, Sir.” Shosh took a breath, her face shifting to an expression that was simultaneously both genteel and enigmatic, in a way that only Shoshana could truly pull off. This was her chance to prove her own worth. “My family, the Edelmans—we’re from Austria, originally. In fact I studied music under Herr Adrian Steiner, of the London Philharmonic? He’s of Viennese ancestry—court composers dating back centuries—so he made certain to instill in me a deep appreciation for the pillars of musical expression. Strauss, Brahms, Liszt, Mahler, Sibelius…” Though she listed these casually, as if discussing the weather, Shosh had extensively done her homework in preparation for this; she knew Henry was born in 1902 and that late- and post-Romantic symphonic composers, such as those she’d mentioned, would have been in peak popularity for classical music at the turn of the century. “…and, naturally, Debussy and Stravinsky—though I always considered Petrushka a particularly grim punishment.” She said this with a wry conversational inflection; a light bit of humor that those with elevated taste and historical knowledge would understand. And though she’d been warned by Cass not to refer directly to a vampire’s age or year of birth, Shosh had cleverly dropped in enough vague references to the era—particularly Debussy’s Pelléas and Mélisande premiere in 1902—to hopefully evoke a sense of nostalgia in Cass’ father.
Cass was certain Shosh would have ripped his eyeballs out later for speaking over her if he hadn’t prepared her for the… Odd way that vampires often conversed over, for, and around their donors. It was even more apparent at Caro, where the blood bags weren’t even acknowledged. It had been a bit of a mind fuck at Hogwarts, coming from how Cass had grown up. Thankfully his nanny had prepared him for a lot of it.
He turned to look at Shosh, genuinely curious about how she would handle his father. Sometimes, being around full vampires, especially a room full of them, was too much for humans. At least they weren’t feeding. That was where things got fucked up. Cass did everything he could do set Shosh up for a good introduction- and by the way his father responded to her, it must have fucking worked.
Henry’s eyes lit up when Shoshana spoke. First, impressed by a girl who knew so much about her lineage. Then of her tutelage and general knowledge of music. The final nail in the coffin was rattling off those songs. Cass noted with some amusement that it seemed to piss Cynthia right off. Good. She’d always been a bitch to him.
To Cass’s general mortification, Henry chuckled at Shoshana’s joke, smiling. His fangs, although not properly elongated while he wasn’t on the hunt, showed. Cass wanted to fucking die. “Okaaaaaay,” Cass said, trying hard to keep up with his sense of decorum but getting more and more embarrassed by the pair of them as time went on. He squeezed Shosh’s arm. “Thank you, father. I’m sure you two will have plenty to catch up on.”
“Of course,” Henry agreed, then let go of Cynthia’s arm to take Shosh’s hand, raising it to his lips respectfully, before letting it drop. “Shoshana, it really was a pleasure to meet you. Give your contact details to Cassius, won’t you? We should meet another time. Perhaps over that piano.” He winked, and Cass rolled his eyes, thanking his father and steering Shosh away.
Cass gave a shaky breath out, eyeing Shosh as they walked away. “You did good,” He breathed to her, knowing full well that his father could hear him anyway. “You really knew all that about all those musicians and stuff? Huh.” He shouldn’t have been surprised.
As they walked away, Cass looked around the ballroom, visibly more relaxed now that the hardest part of their evening was done. He cocked his head, wondering who he should introduce her to. While he was deciding, a red-faced wizard in dress robes approached him, holding his wife’s hand. “Cassius!” He boomed, and Cass swallowed, looking to Shosh and then back at the wizard.
“Uhhh. Minister. Good to see you,” Cass hesitated to introduce Shosh. He couldn’t know Shosh was a donor. “This is my friend from Hogwarts, Shoshana Edelman.”
“Oh, isn’t it lovely they let you bring a friend!” The witch gushed, taking Shoshana’s hand and squeezing it with a good-natured smile. She was obviously excited to see Shosh and Cass, who were the most human couple in the room, apart from them. Cass had explained to Shosh earlier, that most of the vampires would ignore any ministry members. They tolerated their presence as strictly necessary to their existence.
“Shosh, this is Manhoor Hookman. And his wife Artois. Mr Hookman is the head of the Being Division. He uh, he organised stuff with Hogwarts when I got my letter. You know, like, the rules and everything…” He looked at Shosh, hoping she’d get the picture.
“Oh, yes! And liaison with the school, updates and such. And you’re about to graduate! Seven years! Paving the way for all the others…” Manhoor boomed, and Cass felt like he was going to die again. Why was everyone at this party so fucking embarrassing? “Tell me, Shoshana, do you think your class is more tolerant than society has been in the past? Do you think Cassius integrated well? That was our hope with Cassius’ admission.” He was anxious to hear her opinion.
Cass was annoyed with Manhoor. The dick. Cass knew full well about the little ‘social experiment’ of his admission and it bugged him. He plastered on a smile, like most of the other vampires did around the man.
Shosh looked down and gave a humble, assenting nod, smiling sweetly, to indicate her acknowledgement of Henry’s suggestion while respecting the etiquette law of never having the final word over a vampire. It was a good thing Shoshana was such a quick and meticulous study, because there were a lot of fucking rules. And hey, she was just a little bit smug about it.
And even more so when Cass confirmed she’d done well. Shosh grinned proudly and just nodded in reply while they were still in Henry’s earshot.
She was reeling with adrenaline, flushed and energized and elated with how things were going so far. She wanted to do something celebratory, and was about to ask Cass if he knew how to waltz when they were approached by someone else. Shosh felt Cass tense beside her and she gave the approaching couple a once-over; neither looked like vampires, so Shosh read the sign and made a hasty decision to let go of Cass’ arm and put several inches of space between them, folding her hands innocuously behind her back.
And her instincts were right; this was someone from the Ministry. Shosh drew in a breath and held it, forcing her smile not to look nervous. Though she wanted to seriously gag at this lady’s patronizing comment. ‘Little friend?’ Ugh. Regardless, Shosh could act her way easily through this; she simpered with affected gratitude, her hand that wasn’t being gripped and shaken in a death-vice fluttering up to rest above the sweetheart neckline of her dress. “Oh yes, such a fascinating cultural experience! So much to learn from our undead brethren…” Cass would catch onto the bare traces of sarcasm that underlined Shosh’s words, but this Ministry Dimwit and Mrs. Daft would be none the wiser, so who cared?
“Really?” she continued, glancing at Cass wryly and then adding, “…how noble.” Seriously, this self-righteous idiot made Shosh want to scream. But she held her polite expression with perfect poise and gruelingly feigned interest.
She hesitated when he asked for her opinion, nibbling at the edge of her red bottom lip. Shosh knew she was supposed to be on her ‘best behavior’ tonight, but come on—this guy sucked! And not in a good way.
Her eyes darted to Cass in her peripherals once and then fixed on Manhoor. Fuck it, he deserved this. Shosh took a breath, and then in the most positively amiable and polite tone, she said, “Actually, Minister, it’s Cassius who’s the tolerant one—gracefully accepting treatment as a secondary citizen undeserving of the same basic rights as his peers, by a government with the means to pave the way for his success yet who chooses instead to consistently undermine and impair him at every turn. ‘Ignorantia juris non excusat’—those are the words printed on the Ministry’s seal, are they not? ‘Ignorance of the law excuses not’…I’m merely suggesting, sir, that perhaps the law itself ought to deal a little less in ignorance and excuses.” Shosh smiled amicably, paused a beat, and then said, “Well! It was lovely meeting you both…Cass, shall we? You promised to show me the drawing room…”
And as they walked away, Shosh could have sworn she saw the subtlest hints of approval from vampires all around her—some raised red chalices, a few nods and winks, the gleaming pearly white of grinning pointed teeth...
...To Be Continued...
