Carpe Jugulum

where she stood. She had to do something, do anything, break its horrible grip—
    It was Vlad who spoke.
    “It’s nothing dramatic,” he said quickly. “A little drop of blood…Father went to the school and explained all about citizenship…”
    “How nice,” she croaked. “Do they get a badge?” It must have been Perdita behind that; she couldn’t imagine Agnes being so tasteless, even in the cause of sarcasm.
    “Hah, no. But what a good idea,” said the Count, giving her another quick smile. “Yes…perhaps a badge, or a small plaque. Something to be treasured in later life. I shall make a mental note of this. And so…let us begin. Ah, the mayor has assembled the dear children…”
    There was a shout somewhere at the back of the crowd and, for a moment, Agnes caught sight of a man trying to press forward. The mayor nodded at a couple of the nearby men. They hurried back into the crowd. There was a scuffle in the shadows. She thought she heard a woman’s scream, suddenly muffled. A door slammed.
    As the mayor turned back, he met Agnes’s stare. She looked away, not wanting to see that expression. People were good at imagining hells, and some they occupied while they were alive.
    “Shall we get on?” said the Count.
    “Will you let go of my arm, Vlad?” said Agnes, sweetly.
    They’re just waiting for you to react, whispered Perdita. Oh, said Agnes inside her head, so I should just stand here and watch? Like everybody else? I just thought I’d point it out. What’s been done to them? They’re like pigs queuing for Hogswatch! I think they saw reason, said Agnes. Oh well…just wipe that smile off Lacrimosa’s face, that’s all I ask…
    They could move very fast. Even a scream wouldn’t work. She might be able to get in one good wallop, and that would be it. And perhaps she’d wake up as a vampire, and not know the difference between good and evil. But that wasn’t the point. The point was here and now, because here and now she did .
    She could see every drop of moisture hanging in the air, smell the woodsmoke from damped-down fires, hear the rats in the thatch of the houses. Her senses were working overtime, to make the most of the last few seconds—
    “I don’t see why!” Lacrimosa’s voice cut through the mist like a saw.
    Agnes blinked. The girl had reached her father and was glaring at him.
    “Why do you always start?” she demanded.
    “Lacrimosa! What has got into you? I am the head of the clan!”
    “Oh really? Forever?”
    The Count looked astonished. “Well, yes. Of course!”
    “So we’ll always be pushed around by you, for ever ? We’ll just be your children for ever ?”
    “My dear, what do you think you—”
    “And don’t try that voice on me! That only works on the meat! So I’ll be sent to my room for being disobedient forever ?”
    “We did let you have your own rack—”
    “Oh yes! And for that I have to nod and smile and be nice to meat ?”
    “Don’t you dare talk to your father like that!” screamed the Countess.
    “And don’t talk about Agnes like that!” snarled Vlad.
    “Did I use the word Agnes? Did I refer to her in any way?” said Lacrimosa, coldly. “I don’t believe I did. I wouldn’t dream of mentioning her at all .”
    “I can’t be having with this arguing !” shouted the Count.
    “That’s it , isn’t it?” said Lacrimosa. “We don’t argue! We just do what you say, for ever .”
    “We agreed—”
    “No, you agreed, and no one disagreed with you . Vlad was right!”
    “Indeed?” said the Count, turning to his son. “Right about what, pray?”
    Vlad’s mouth opened and shut once or twice as he hastily assembled a coherent sentence. “I may have mentioned that the whole Lancre business might be considered unwise—”
    “Oh,” said the Countess. “You know so much about wisdom all of a sudden and you’re barely two hundred?”
    “Unwise?” said the Count.
    “ I ’d say stupid!” said Lacrimosa. “Little badges? Gifts? We don’t give anything! We’re vampires ! We take what we want, like this —”
    She reached out, grabbed a man standing near her, and turned, mouth open and hair flying.
    And stopped, as if she’d been frozen.
    Then she buckled, one hand reaching for her throat, and glared at her father.
    “What…did you do?” she gasped. “My throat…feels…You did something!”
    The Count rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lacci—”
    “And don’t call me that! You