Stigmata

The new vampire didn’t have to wait very long to find out what kind of Club the Black Iris Club was; after they had finished whatever it was they were doing (and Vivien didn’t care to speculate or dig into detail about the closed-off back room of the tour bus), Matt had set about calling on cars, and Valary had offered Vivien a dress to wear if she hadn’t brought one - though she had brought dresses, none of them were formal enough for this fabled club. Offering her clothing was a very nice gesture, Viv thought as Valary handed her options straight from her suitcase in that dreaded back room of the tour bus. The redhead stood in her underwear, the blond already clad in a sequined silver tank top and a black skirt.

“Try this,” Val handed Vivien an ivory tank top and a black high-waisted skirt to wear. As she pulled the tank top over her head, Vivi asked;

“Does it have to be a dress? I mean, I have nice slacks and boots…” The redhead trailed off as the older vampire stared at her blankly, as if to notify her that her question was so stupid it didn’t even warrant an answer. After an awkward moment of silence during which Viv slipped into the skirt Valary had given her, the blond girl answered.

“It does kind of have to be a dress. A modest dress, too.” The dancer raised her eyebrow at Val’s dress, the plunging neckline could hardly be considered modest. But to each her own, Viv thought with a shrug as she zipped the skirt. “I think that will do it; do you like it?”

“Um, it looks great. Thank you so much,” Valary nodded and proffered Vivien a black structured blazer, and instructed her on how to roll the sleeves back. The younger woman spent a minute admiring the getup in the mirror - and noticed with a shock that she could see herself in the mirror. The guys had said something about all of the lore surrounding vampires; all bullshit, of course, except the fact that their powers diminished in the sunlight and really, really old vampires could turn into bats. But that was about all the truth available in human superstition. It had been a relief for Viv to know that she didn’t have to bury herself in “native earth” every night to sleep; that was just plain nasty!

“Hey Valary? I have a question.” From the lit vanity mirror in the cramped bathroom (where Vivien knew from experience that one had to straddle the toilet in order to utilize the mirror and sink at all), Valary gave small grunt. The redhead took this as a cue to fire away, so fire she did. “How old are you?”

“Really, or how old was I?”

Vivien had to think for a second, before she replied; “Both.”

“I was twenty when I became a vampire, but I’m twenty-three now.” The redhead nodded as she pleated a face-framing French braid into her hair, struggling to see herself in the mirror without getting in Valary’s way. As she was pinning the braid down, Matt bustled into the back area of the bus, nearly knocking the pair over and causing Vivien to swallow an entire bobby pin. She choked involuntarily, even though she didn’t really need to breathe, the thing was still blocking her airway.

“I hate to break up your little pretty party, but - Vivien, what’s wrong with your face?” Her hands were around her throat in the universal symbol for ‘I’m fucking choking on a goddamn bobby pin,’ and Matt wondered what was wrong with her face. With a roll of her eyes, Vivien turned to Valary, and used all of her telepathic might to try and communicate with her. Tweezers, there’s a bobby pin in my throat.

“Shit Matt, you made her swallow a hairpin. Open your mouth, sweetheart.” The small redhead sat down on the toilet, leaned her head back, and opened her mouth; within seconds, Valary had fished the thing out of her mouth with the tweezers, and placed the thing in the breast pocket of Matt’s suit.

“Thanks for that. Where did the monkey suit come from?”

“It’s a rental. We have to go, girls. You’re ready, right?” The youngest vampire considered telling him no, but based on the fact that all of the guys were wearing rented suits and hovering in the front of the bus where there were plenty of liquids that would stain just about anything, she chose to skip the sarcasm and grabbed her purse - the same hulking black monster she had carried at the fateful audition so long ago. The pair of women leaned on one another as they slipped into black pumps and carefully climbed down the recreational vehicle’s treacherous stairs.

At the foot of the stairs, Haner waited with a gentlemanly arm extended to Vivien; over the centuries, he had seen many a woman face-plant while attempting to walk on grass in heels, and he didn’t have the time to wait for one of the girls to recover after a tumble.

“Thanks, but I can walk just fine,” Vivien made an attempt to pass Brian, but he thwarted her with a steadying hand on her lower back. “Oh, alright then fair gentleman. Wherefore art my carriage, for I so detest bipedal travel.” The brown-eyed guitarist snorted with laughter at the girl’s exaggerated Irish accent as they followed the other three men to where a huge Hummer limousine sat on the lawn between motor homes; Sander’s transportation choice was ridiculed by the other men, but they secretly enjoyed the thing too much to truly object.

It took the chauffer twenty minutes of winding through traffic to find the club, and by that time the boys were starting to get antsy - as was Vivien. She was anxious to know just why going to a club would answer all of the questions about this talent she was supposed to have already shown hints of. Flanked by Zachy and Brian, Vivien followed Jimmy and Johnny into the darkness that existed past the burly bouncer who blockaded the doorway.

The place was dark because the walls, the floors, the furniture, the heavy velvet curtains that separated seating areas and even the uniforms of those who worked there were all dark. The furniture was heavy and old, made of dark wood, the upholstery, walls and curtains shades of deep plum, the uniforms of the wait staff consisted of a black button up, black pants and a modest black apron. Vivien was impressed by the muted lavishness of the place, and also how Jimmy seemed to instinctively know his way around the place. The men hadn’t said anything definite, but from what she had read in vampire books when she was younger and the behavior she had observed (like her new family was actually a pride of lions she was studying on the plains of Africa), Jimmy was definitely in some sort of leadership position in the group, if not the “father” of the coven.

Jimmy led the group to one of the larger tables, and waited until a waitress had ordered their drinks before he loosed the heavy velvet curtains that surrounded the roomy booth and allowed them to fall together. Immediately, the sound of an acoustic guitar that Vivien was just starting to become fond of was nearly completely muffled - she could hear it if she strained, but she wasn’t sure if that was because she was listening in to someone’s thoughts or something.

“Alright. Brian and I are going to take Vivien to visit the Crone,” The redhead’s brows knitted at the name and she found herself filled with questions that she couldn’t ask. Really, this bitch was called the Crone? The server parted the curtains with her hand, bearing a tray of wine goblets and a bottle of what Viv could easily identify as blood; Matt began pouring a round from the bottle.

“Drink up, Vivien, I don’t want you to try and drink the Crone’s blood. We have enough problems without that…” He trailed off. Vivien was all too happy to oblige; the wine bottle the blood came from was labeled AB Positive - with a jolt, the redhead realized AB+ was her blood type in life.

“Damn Valary, I can’t blame you for the backstage incident any more,” She murmured as she realized she had drained her glass in a single draught; the base of the glass had hardly touched the table when Jimmy and Brian stood up - the latter pulled Vivien behind him by the hand.

“We’ll be back. Don’t get into too much trouble,”

“…without me.” Haner grinned, and pulled Vivien through the curtain behind him. The pair followed Jimmy through the nearly empty club to another partitioned off table; the pair of men held the curtains open for the lithe dancer to proceed through. On the opposite side of the table from her sat a woman who definitely looked like a Crone - she appeared to be old enough to be Vivien’s grandmother, with long hair that must have once been black but was now more gray than jet-colored. The long mahogany table was lined with ancient looking books, an old wooden box filled with colored stones, and a large goblet of what had to be wine, as no vampire could be as old as the woman behind the table.

“The Goddess‘s bright blessing on you, daughter of Hellewise, sons of Maya,” Vivien didn’t have enough time to look surprised as the Crone and Jimmy simultaneously directed her to sit in the booth. Brian slipped in to sit beside her, grasping her hand beneath the table as if she were going to need the mental support, and Jimmy sat opposite the pair.

“Unity, Mother Crone.” The little redhead gave a start at the language the drummer used to greet the Crone; he sounded more like a foreign business man instead of a hyperactive, over-the-top person he acted like during the day. The grizzled hag smiled sagely as if she too called Jimmy’s bluff.

“What brings three Vampires to my table this evening?” The old woman asked, as she took beads from her box and laid them in some unknown order on a piece of cloth with her arthritic, twisted hands. “Is it not especially dangerous to bring a youngling out into the world?”

Jimmy sat languidly, so comfortable that his feet were all but on the table; but his bright eyes followed Vivien rather than the Crone - Vivi was happy for Haner‘s hand to squeeze privately under the table. “We are here because of this new vampire, Mother Crone. She has not yet displayed her talent; but has an extraordinary amount of restraint around mortals.”

“That’s because she’s part witch, you vampiric lummox. Daughter of Hellewise, what is your name?” The Crone began to weave the gemstones onto thin silver wire, twisting it around each gem to captivate it just as she captivated Viv‘s attention.

“Vivien… Hopwood, ma’am,” A jab of Haner’s elbow had prompted her to add her last name, which was what the old jewelry maker wanted in the first place.

“The Lady of the Lake, eh girl? It surprises me not. Since she is part Witch, perhaps then her power might hinge upon objects. As does my own. Young lady, do you indeed have an affinity for music?” The Witch did not continue, even when the guitar tech nodded. After the trio of vampires spent a few silent minutes watching the Crone complete her necklace - during which time Vivien’s head spun like a top, as she attempted to decipher the ‘ye olde English’ Jimmy and the Witch were using and what the hell it actually meant - the old woman finally spoke.

“Come here, girl, and accept my blessing.” From beside the stunned redhead, Brian gave a prompting shove toward the Crone, who held out her wavering hands. Seated awkwardly beside the old woman, Vivien couldn’t help but think of the old lady’s gnarled hands on her head and suddenly felt quite squeamish. It must have shown on her face, for Haner had to send her a mental jab. But instead of laying her hands on the redhead, the old woman picked up the newly finished necklace and looped it around the startled girl’s neck while murmuring something in a language that Vivien couldn’t recognize.

After a few more awkward minutes of unintelligible murmuring - Vivien thought the chant-like prayer sounded like something her high school psychology teacher had played the class to cause them to fall asleep and therefore not have to teach a class, and had to fight to stay awake - Jimmy pulled the redhead by the upper arm back to the booth where his band mates and Valary sat.