Vampires Like to Dance

Dancing. Jules’s fingers ended their tapping rhythm on the desk. Standing up, he practically flung his chair across the study. He snapped once and smacked a palm down on the desk. This was the answer to all of the itchy footed-ness he had been experiencing. He leapt past the fireplace and over Chester. Chester, a mud-brown mess of matted fur, jumped and watched Jules with wide eyes. Jules paid him no mind. Most of the time, Chester stayed in his werewolf form. He liked to lay beside the fireplace, sleeping while he toasted his tail.

Jules was the mastermind. He was the one who came up with all the ideas, and he thanked himself for being such a clever fellow. The world needed more brains like his. Grabbing a stack of papers, he leaped back over to the desk and sat in the chair, picking up his favorite black-ink pen. A smile growing on his face, he began writing a list of everything he wanted for this special occasion. All the others would love it. He loved it. They loved him. It was all perfect. He then wrote down the names of all his nearby neighbors, flicking his pen up in the air when he had finished. A happy sigh escaped him as he reread the list. Lovely lists.

“What’s going on? Did you have an idea?”

Chester’s snoot was pointed up while he looked up at Jules in the chair. Jules glared at Chester from the corner of his eyes. He hated questions. Especially stupid, time-wasting ones.

“What?” said Chester. “Fine then. What’s your idea this time?”

That wasn’t a bad question. He puffed out his chest and sat straighter, making sure to look down his nose at the scruffy wolf-man. A smirk drew across his lips with lazy eyes lounging on top.

“An exceptional idea. One that will have being from other counties talking.”

Chester’s “eyebrows” rose.

“Oh, a social event, I’m guessing?”

“A refined social event,” said Jules, scribbling away.

“Fancy dresses and suits.”

Jules’ shoulders bobbed up and his eyes glittered. “Fancy clothes. Yes.”

Chester scoffed. “Dainty refreshments, too.”

“Only the best.”

“One more thing...” Chester said, scratching behind his ear.

Jules leaned over. “Dancing. That’s the most important part. The dancing.”

“That’s what it was! Dancing.”

“The most fabulous dancing. Waltzes, tangos...” Jules’s voice travelled away into a mutter.

Watching Jules in his excited state, Chester sat back on his haunches.

“You’re going to invite everyone.”

“Yes, and I must get to that immediately. Wouldn’t want to waste time and effort on something no one is actually coming to.”

Jules got up and swooshed out of the room, Chester trotting behind. Flicking his fingers around and muttering, Jules walked through the old, Victorian hallways. Chester had suggested a smaller, less expensive house when they were buying, but Jules had insisted on the most refined and elegant living space. He was vampire to the core. Chester never had any luck convincing Jules to do anything. The house was no exception. Jules had to have his way, and Chester got dragged in again.

Now, following Jules into the bathroom, Chester was trying to advise his friend against the idea of a ball. Where would he hold it? The mansion was of large size, but not big enough for the likes of a ball.

“Jules?”

Jules was staring at his hair, his nose almost touching the mirror. He grunted in response.

“Where are you going to hold this ridiculous ball?”

“Not ridiculous, silly. Refined. In the town’s building thing.”

“Our town doesn’t have a ‘building thing’.”

“No not our town. The human town. You know the building - the big, empty, useless one.”

Chester stared. “You can’t use that one!”

“Why not? It’s the perfect size for us beings to come and dance in.”

“You can’t because it’s the humans’. That would be too risky.”

“Ah, risk. What does it matter? We’ll be doing it at night, after they’ve all gone. Even if one does show up, we can get Heady to wipe their mind.”

“You rely on Heady’s powers too much.”

“Nonsense.”

Jules pulled a jar out of the cupboard. He took the lid off and stuck his fingers into the gray-green, greasy substance. Frowning at his reflection, he rubbed the grease all along his hairline.

“It really is too bad that my mother’s Italian blood didn’t bless me with dark hair like the rest of my family. Even my father, as Scots-English as he was, didn’t have red hair. I would be the finest looking fellow if I had inherited black locks. But no. Fate went and played another nasty trick, making me perfect in every way - except for this scratchy carrot hair.”

Chester waited for him to finish. This happened every time Jules had to fix his roots. Jules, as he mentioned, hated his red hair. He asked the witches to concoct this mixture so that he could dye his hair coal black and smooth it out. The grease faded and Jules’ roots turned from their carroty color to a dark, shiny coal black. Chester could see the substance was a success. Although the color of his hair almost looked fake.. Jules smiled at his reflection.

“What do you think?” he asked, like he did every time.

“It looks like someone smudged a charcoal pencil on your head.”

“Perfect.”

Jules swished past Chester. With a sigh, Chester followed him out.

“Are you concerned even a little about catching the attention of humans?” he asked, trying to keep up. “You know they aren’t supposed to find out we exist.”

Jules didn’t even glance back. “It will all be perfect.”

“If you make one little slip, Jules, we could all be ruined.”

Jules put on his jacket and opened the door.

“Nonsense.”