What We Are

Chapter 4: A Hard Pill to Swallow

As a direct result of his upbringing, Claude had a soft spot for the finer things in life, including relaxing bubble baths and a well-tailored suit. The one he's been instructed to wear tonight sat perfectly on his body. Their family seamstress had done an impressive job with the double breasted, pinstripe, black suit. Claude paired it with silver cuff links his father lent him for the night plus genuine Italian leather shoes.

Giving his reflection another once-over, Claude nodded his head in determination. 

He'll do well tonight, if only for the sake of his parents' reputations.

The banquet hall was built straight down the edge of the grand hall, right beside the ballroom. Claude has attended dozens of these galas and balls before he even truly understood what they were, which meant he was used to seeing dozens and dozens of vampires gathered under their roof, all dressed in varying formal outfits. 

Some families stuck to the traditional (jackets matched with tops hats, heavily laced and ruffled gowns), meanwhile other families liked the style modernity has so far granted (suits simple yet elegant like Claude's, more form-fitting dresses). An almost endless line of cars came through the Fernsby Manor's gates. Vampires and humans, all with their presents for Alma Fernsby on hand, were ushered by butlers and maids to their respective tables.

Decorations in the banquet hall were a stunning gold with plum colored accents, intricate flower arrangements spread out in equal distances at the walls. There's a live band playing, something light and welcoming, violins sounding all throughout the space.

Ten minutes until six, almost all the tables have been filled. Claude was currently with his father, his Uncle Richard, and Gerry. They've all been assigned the task of welcoming guests while the girls helped Alma get ready.

"My jaw is actually starting to hurt." Gerry exaggeratedly opened and closed his mouth to prove this issue, his hand coming up to massage the space near his ear. Claude kept his mouth shut, knowing better than to complain. He, too, had been grinning for the last thirty minutes non-stop, so he couldn't blame Gerry.

Gerry's father, Richard Adrian Fernsby, clapped a hand on his son's nape. Standing beside one another, the father and son were nearly the same height. "You get used to it," He said. "Your Uncle Zach used to hate smiling for reasons other than his own happiness."

"Thing's change, people change." Claude's father sent an award-winning grin, lines appearing at the sides of his mouth. The smile dropped from Zachariah Fernsby's face quickly. 

"You were always giving our parents a hard time," Richard reminded his older brother, and that wasn't news to any of them.

But Claude's father was ready with his own retort. "He who did not stop wetting the bed until the age of ten should not point fingers."

Claude bit his lip to tamper the urge to snort. Gerry did not hold back, his burst of laughter totally unbecoming in the grand hall. Richard looked at his older brother like Zachariah just betrayed his bloodline.

Their back and forth was cut short by the familiar voices of Aunt Gianna and Geslaine drawing closer, both women helping Claude's mother make her way down the grand staircase of the west wing.

His mother's form-fitting gown was emerald green—no surprise there—with a satin train connected to the sides of her hips, flowing behind her. She was wearing the necklace Claude gifted her, her hair (blonde with brown streaks, wavy, the same as Claude's) falling in elegant curls over her shoulders. She descended the stairs as if she was walking on clouds. The sight of her made Claude smile.

"Dearest," Claude's father met them at the end of the stairs, taking his mother's hand and planting a kiss to her cheek carefully so as to not to ruin her make-up. With a loving gaze, Zachariah asked, "Did you plan on matching the drapes?"

"Zachariah," Alma scoffed, obviously expecting something moving and romantic.

"I kid, I kid." Zachariah shook his head at his wife's affronted expression. To make up for it, he tucked a strand of his wife's hair behind her ear, his hand remaining there to gently cup her face. "You look beautiful."

"You do. All three of you look wonderful," Uncle Richard agreed, hooking his arm with his wife's. Aunt Gianna and Geslaine were in nearly identical dresses, the sleeves of Geslaine's dress falling from her shoulders while Aunt Gianna's neckline hugged her throat. Including Gerald and Uncle Richard, their whole family dressed in navy blue.

They were to make their entrance now. The designated master of ceremonies for the night, a vampire named Michael Iris, would announce their names as they entered the banquet hall, ending with Zachariah and Alma Fernsby's.

Zachariah met Claude's eyes. Claude's father gave him an encouraging smile. "Are you ready?"

Claude was not, but he gave a nod nonetheless, hoping his smile was believable. 

Convinced, his father squeezed his shoulder.

Geslaine and Gerald entered, followed by Uncle Richard and Aunt Gianna. Claude's own entrance felt less like a welcome and more like an opportunity for the guests to gauge their future Vampire Head.  Claude's eyes flickered from one table to another (slowly, as to not look nervous) with a smile that seemed too bright to be considered easy. He did not allow himself to focus on the appraisal behind some of their gazes. 

Once he reached their family's table at the head of the banquet hall, Gerry subtly nudged him. Claude nudged him back.

He's thankful when his mother finally made her grand entrance, all attention shifting to her. Alma Fernsby has a hand holding onto her husband's arm. Together they're the epitome of elegance, walking down the plum colored carpet like royalty—the couple practically were royalty among these vampires, Claude's parents were the Head Vampires of the biggest Clan in New Oasis after all.

There's a short speech from Michael, something generic about how this would be a feast worthy for a woman such as Alma Maxine Fernsby, then the first course was served.

Throughout all seven courses, Claude kept his posture impeccable where he sat, eating with the proper etiquette befitting a Fernsby vampire. He had mastered which utensils were used for which course when he was eight. He dabbed (not wiped) at his mouth after each meal. The atmosphere was cordial and relaxed, everybody savoring the medley of flavors with each new dish. If he weren't at his mother's birthday party, Claude might've asked for seconds.

The blood feeding began.

It wasn't as gruesome as it sounded. Butlers and maids—humans—hired by Claude's family (some specifically for this moment) approached each table in groups of twos or threes, depending on the number of guests seated. They had their sleeves already rolled up to their elbows, and they all inquired which vampires needed to feed. 

It wasn't necessary to accept the offer, but blood feeding was customary in their Clan, especially for events where large groups of vampires have gathered.

Some members of Gratia Clan accepted the offer. It's been a rule for several decades now that vampires were not allowed to drink more than a pint of a human's blood per feeding, no matter if the human happened to be your spouse. Claude's parents were adamant that the law be followed, always wanting to set a good example. The staff who have offered their wrists patiently waited for the vampires to finish feeding, and then they walked back to the kitchens without even a scratch since vampires could heal bite marks their fangs made.

A woman Claude had never seen before wearing a maid's uniform offered her wrist directly for Claude in a polite yet unafraid manner. Claude immediately shook his head, smiling at the woman to tell her he was alright.

The woman dipped her head and moved onto another table. 

It's at that moment that Claude saw a table of vampires staring at him. They averted their gazes, unsuccessfully pretending that they weren't waiting to see him feed from the woman. 

Claude was sure that his refusal would be the hottest gossip of the night.

Gerry was nudging him again. "You're still only drinking animal blood?" Next to Gerry, Geslaine had accepted the wrist of an older butler and was sinking her fangs into the man's skin.

"It keeps me fuller longer," Claude answered simply. "I could legally drain a whole fawn and be set for a week."

Since society has evolved and new philosophies have come to light, a lot of vampires have given up drinking human blood and instead got by with animal blood. Claude's parents have known of his decision for years now, and they didn't see anything wrong with it considering animal blood worked just as well as human blood.

While Gerry understood this thinking, he wasn't about to jump on board with it anytime soon. "Comparing animal blood to human blood is like comparing instant noodles to freshly made white wine linguine." It's another variation of Gerry's old argument.

"I like instant noodles."

"You've gone mad," Gerry shook his head, not really meaning it, before he took a sip of champagne.

The plates were cleared. Gratia Clan members rose with as much sophistication as they could manage considering their full stomachs and formal wear. They moved around the banquet hall, treating themselves to drinks from the open bar and conversations with other guests.

Gerry had been right. As soon as Claude's parents finished their last meal, they tugged Claude along to personally greet and reacquaint themselves with those who attended tonight's celebration. 

Claude smiled like he was programmed to do so. He dipped his head to address older vampires,  their heads bowing in return. His parents led the conversations, throwing out topics and supplying each other' stories with so much ease one would think they rehearsed it. Twenty-five years of marriage meant that Alma and Zachariah were completely attuned with each other.

Claude was called Claudius the whole evening. He'd do his best to insert his own comments here and there, one or both of his parents beaming at his efforts. It made him want to roll his shoulders back with pride and sink into the floor at the same time.

There were some comments completely uncalled for, such as his choice of going to the city for college and how he's never home for this and that. He answered these inquiries by giving away as little information as possible, forcing himself to chuckle at the back-handed compliments he's met with. 

Claude excused himself to go use the restroom an hour later. He sat on the closed lid of a toilet inside one of the stalls, massaging his jaw much like Gerry had earlier while also muttering curse words in his head.

He had expected some not-so friendly encounters, he just forgot how shameless a lot of Gratia members can be.

Claude dreaded returning to the party, but his first genuine laugh since their meals happened only after Geslaine linked her arm with his. "Whatever my insufferable brother has told you about me and Adrian Oliander, it's not true."

"Adrian Oliander, huh? Isn't he a little too old for you?"

They walked towards the open bar but didn't ask for any drinks. "He's only ten years older." Geslaine smiled, knowing exactly what was wrong with her statement. "It's nothing, Claude. I just like flirting with my brother's friends since it makes steam come out of his ears."

Gerry was across the room, anchored in a conversation with Natalie and Adrian Oliander themselves—a painfully boring conversation given the way Gerry's eyes went a little crazy after meeting Claude and Geslaine's gazes.

Geslaine and Claude ignored him.

"What about you then?" Geslaine turned to Claude. "Have you found someone special yet?"

"Unfortunately, not everyone can be as forward as you, Geslaine."

"I take that as a compliment, thank you very much." Her grip on his arm tightened, eyes lighting up. "Wait. Does that mean you have someone special in mind?"

Claude shook his head and grinned at Geslaine's disappointed face. "Sorry to burst your bubble."

Geslaine looked over Claude's shoulder and pursed her full lips. "I would continue to pester you about this because you're clearly hiding something, but Uncle Zach is waving at you."

Immediately, Claude's shoulders deflated. "I was hoping he and mother would be too distracted to notice my avoidance."

"You're not getting away now. They're speaking with the Old Families."

Claude sighed out loud that time. Geslaine only smiled in sympathy, dislodging her arm from his and slipping her way towards Gerry. 

There were three bloodlines known as the Old Families. They're the descendants of the first ever vampires who stepped foot in New Oasis state. The Old Families were without a doubt the most influential families in Gratia Clan, their names guaranteeing high standing in all vampire circles.

There was the Fernsby family, who achieved their wealth through establishing the largest supermarket chain in New Oasis. There was a Wise Shopper's Market quite literally in every neighborhood, especially in New Oasis City.

Then the Peev family. Its current head, Julius Nanimus Peev, had one arm around his wife Susanne Isla Peev's waist, both of them smiling and cooing at Claude and how he's so far from the little boy they used to see all the time. The Peev's managed a commercial fishing business and were the main seafood supplier for the New Oasis population.

And lastly, the Erancus family. Desmon Erancus was alone this evening, the vampire resting both hands on top of his ebony cane. He'd been giving Claude a scrutinizing look since he'd greeted them. Desmon was less chatty compared to the Fernsby and Peev heads, which only added to his already intimidating aura. 

Desmon wouldn't make comments about Claude's choice of schooling since his own son went to the same university.

The Erancus family have been big investors for different pharmaceutical companies. "We're working on some experimental things. The labs seem set on developing a powerful sedative which they described as an improvement over the current anesthesia hospitals use," Desmon told the group after being asked what it was he'd been busy with these days. His voice had the drawl of a man confident in his work and in his social standing, knowing anyone would pay attention to him once he spoke. "They've been looking for volunteers to participate in the trials."

"You should test it out on a pack of werewolves," Julius Peev chuckled at his own suggestion. "I'll believe in your wonder drug if it can take down one of those full-grown flea-bags while they're wolfed out."

Claude tensed.

He's heard werewolf slurs casually thrown around among the members of Gratia Clan. As a child, he'd always frown at the derogatory words, not knowing how to tell those vampires off.

The contempt for Julius Peev's words must have presented itself on Claude's face. His mother swooped in before he could get a word out, smoothly changing the subject. "Come on now, this is a celebration. There's no need for such language." She placed her hand at the center of Claude's back. "It's Claudius' final year at university. His professors are certain he'll be graduating summa c*m laude."

Susanne Peev smiled with her eyes. "Your son's a brilliant man, Alma. I can only hope our baby boy grows up to be half the vampire he's turning out to be." The woman cast a wondering look at Claude's parents, her hands politely clasped on the ruffles of her skirt. "I'm sure Claude's also doing well with his training as future Head Vampire?"

As his mother began rattling off the same answers she's given to other vampires who asked similar questions, Claude's eyes landed on Desmon.

The man wasn't attentively listening to the words being exchanged like Claude expected him to be. Instead, the head of the Erancus family was looking down at where his fingers toyed with the single ring on his left hand, a slight furrow on his exposed forehead.

Claude has met Desmon Erancus a few times in the past, and this was the first time he's seen the man look completely troubled with something. He was tuning out all dialogues still happening in front of him.

Julius Peev spoke again, breaking Claude from his staring. "It's a guarantee then. Everyone will be anticipating the moment Claudius continues his family's legacy."

-----

The next day, Claude was instructed to proceed to his father's home office after breakfast.

"Come in, dear." His mother was dressed in a checkered pencil skirt with heels that looked hard to walk in, but Alma made her way around the room without trouble. "Why don't you make yourself some tea while I try to find the rest of your father's cigars."

His father had a cigar hanging from his lips, eyes roving through today's newspaper. "There's none left, Alma. You've dumped the last of them."

In front of other people, his parents weren't the type to brag about their love. They were always mindful of each other's space, public displays of affection limited to hand-holding and kisses on the cheek. 

However, when their family was alone, Zachariah and Alma Fernsby acted like any married couple. They bickered about the smallest things and looked at each other with devotion (and sometimes annoyance) practically dripping from their eyes.

Claude took the seat in front of his father's desk, on top of which was a tea set and biscuits. He poured steaming tea into a cup and brought it close to his nose. White tea. Claude usually preferred stronger tastes. 

Blowing on the surface of the drink, Claude watched his mother as she pulled open drawers and looked under random displays. "Zachariah, if I catch you smoking another one of those death sticks..."

Claude's father was endlessly patient. "We're vampires, my beloved. We heal quickly."

"We heal quickly from nasty cuts or the occasional broken bone. We can still die from cancer once our old bodies start to weaken. We're not invincible."

Zachariah dramatically flipped his newspaper closed, taking the cigar from his mouth and placing it onto a silver ashtray. "Ah, and here I was thinking I could be immortal. Isn't it a tragedy, Claude?"

The tea Claude was sipping warmed his insides. He smiled before replying to his father, "A tragedy indeed. I was planning to use my immortal powers to fight crime."

"Oh, hush." Alma halted her mission of finding the other death sticks Claude's father had stashed away, taking the seat next to Claude's with a huff. "It's terrible looking after two children." Her eyes narrowed at her husband. Claude laughed silently into his teacup.

Claude poured his parents their own teas and conversation flowed freely from there. 

They talked about Claude living alone, like they usually did whenever he'd see them after a week or two of being in the city. His parents wondered if he was getting enough to eat, if he was struggling with anything in the city, if he needed their help with more than just his rent. Claude managed to reassure them both that he was taking care of himself just fine. 

In turn, he inquired about their health, to which his parents both feigned offense ("Why? Do we look like we're about to wilt away, Claudius?"). Despite the joking, his mother and father seemed fine, both of them getting enough sleep and putting in their daily exercise in the form of walks in the garden or a light session of running on the treadmills in the private gym. 

They spoke a little about the family business. Claude's parents were hoping to open another supermarket before winter arrived but haven't decided between two locations yet.

These moments were what made Claude happy to be home. It was a bonus that his parents seemed quite happy with his whole act during yesterday's celebration.

Just when Claude was about to let his guard down, the conversation suddenly took a turn. "There's actually a specific reason we wanted to talk to you in here." Alma's voice gave away the fact that it was a matter of grave concern.

Claude put down his teacup before his hands could shake. "Alright, I'm all ears," He said, despite the surge of slight panic that rose to his chest.

His parents shared a look, having an entire conversation in silence. Claude hated when that happened, it made him feel like he was still a child. Of course he'd never say this out loud. 

Seconds passed before his father turned to him. "We want to talk to you about taking over as Head Vampire right after you graduate."

Claude might've slumped in his chair if he wasn't frozen in place. 

Deep down, Claude had been expecting this to happen for a while now. What they're asking him to do was not completely unforeseen. It's the sudden timeframe that sent him in a stated of cold sweats. 

"Is that a suggestion, or...?

His mother reached out to take his hand like how she did during breakfast yesterday. "We're not getting any younger, Claude. Though your father and I aren't going anywhere any time soon, we've decided that we want you to have an early start. It'll help you get used to the role much faster, and you'll have plenty of time to adjust."

"We'll still be beside you of course, offering our assistance and consulting," His father was quick to reassure. "But you will officially take the position as Head Vampire once you get your degree."

Claude didn't know what sort of expression he'd be wearing if he made eye-contact with his parents, and so he stared at the edge of the mahogany desk. 

Another squeeze to his hand. "Your father and I took on our roles as Head Vampires the same year we got married. We were also afraid at first. Adjusting to this role will be no easy feat, Claudius. But you'll have both of us with you! There's no reason for you to feel worried."

"We've already spoken to the Old Families. They agree it's best if you get started right away. The sooner you get the hang of it, the better. You've been preparing for this your whole life, son." The tone of his father's words were encouraging, but they had the exact opposite effect on Claude. "Don't start doubting your capabilities."

Claude raised his head, opened his mouth, then closed it. 

There's no way out of this now.

"I... I guess I have no choice then, huh?" He gave a lopsided smile, trying to make his words sound light.

Claude's known since he was a child that the only sure thing in his life was that he'd be the next Head Vampire of Gratia Clan. He'll take over his parents' responsibilities, lead an entire Clan of vampires, and ensure not only their safety, but also their prosperity.

He's always known. But apparently, knowing didn't make it any less of a hard pill to swallow.