Dracula IS in this one
“It’s risky,” Dalla Arnesen said. “What if they’re insulted?”
“It’s a risk we have to take,” Seth D’Asur said. “The Count’s reading level is… Well, nonexistent, to be honest.”
“And you want him involved in this, because?”
“He is the key to unlocking this city; a monster older and stronger, even, than Anatole.”
“Do you always have to do this?”
Seth gave her an uncomprehending glance. “We’ll rebind the books as if it’s a classic. They won’t understand the difference. Their hubris will compel them to interpret the title favourably.”
“Fine, your way it is. I have access to three copies of Vlad the World’s Worst Vampire by Anna Wilson.”
Later…
Seth paced the room, his copy of The World’s Worst Vampire pinched behind his back.
“You look like you have something on your mind,” Fenrir said.
“It can’t be something about the literary merits of this affront to trees in general,” Anatole said. “Frankly I’m offended.”
Seth stopped his pacing, glancing sideways at her.
She continued: “I’m offended that the two main characters are not allowed by the author to express their true feelings for each other.”
Seth pursed his lips together in exasperation and continued his pacing.
“Sit down, Little Prince,” Trenchant said, tapping the head of her silver-tipped cane on her formal shoes. “You’re driving us all, aha, batty with all your walking to and fro.”
Fenrir sighed. “I see you are all in on the bat-related puns. And that you,” he looked pointedly at Trenchant. “Have dressed in a tuxedo to match the character in the books again.”
“I, for one, found the book delightful. And wouldn’t that be lovely, eternal beauty of an immortal child?” she said, nonplussed by Fenrir’s commentary on her ensemble.
Seth stopped his pacing, and silence spread for a moment around the room.
Until Trenchant continued unperturbed. “Think of it; children are such delightful creatures. Beautiful, innocent, so full of cheeks to pinch.”
“Yes,” Fenrir said, pushing his glasses back up his scarred nose. “So full of all the things that aren’t found in your average vampire. I suspect that you’re not thinking this through.”
A momentary scowl crossed Trenchant’s expression. “You don’t see many immortal children around, so we don’t have a basis of comparison.”
“You don’t see many immortal children around because most of us have common sense enough to know how much of a bad idea that would be,” Fenrir said.
“The God King forbade creation of vampires in scions that are under the age of maturity at 21,” Seth said. “The taboo that we have thankfully followed to this day.”
“Well the God-King is dead,” Trenchant said. “And I think we should let his outmoded ideas die with him, don’t you think?”
Seth returned to his pacing, now studiously avoiding everyone’s gaze.
Anatole cleared her throat for attention. “While this is all very interesting, Can we get back to the injustice that is two characters most obviously in love not allowed to love each other by the author?”
“I can’t believe that you are seriously putting forth a problem that two small children should have stronger feelings towards each other, especially when it doesn’t fit with the purpose of the story.”
“I agree,” Trenchant said, to the various surprised looks around the room.
“What?” Fenrir said.
“I agree that children should be innocent of giving in to those ugly emotions, and be their beautiful illuminated innocent selves…”
“And now it’s going to get weird,” Fenrir muttered under his breath.
“For all eternity!”
“Weird. Called it,” Fenrir finished.
“You don’t have too much experience with children, day to day, do you, Baron?” Seth asked.
“And people allow you to? Isn’t that a little weird?” she countered, giving Fenrir a pointed look.
“As I was saying,” Fenrir spoke over the congealing silence. “The purpose of this book is to de-stigmatise the other in a way that children could easily understand. To show that deep down, we all have more in common with those who are different from us.”
“Are you quoting Foucault again?” Trenchant said. “Fenrir Jarl, no, we spoke about this! Yes, you think you saw him that one time in Paris, but that does not mean you can just go all theoretical whenever you feel like it.”
“You really had some unresolved issues with the French Intellectus, didn’tcha?” Anatole chimed in with a cat-like grin.
“Only because my dear friend the Baron here would not introduce me to their salon, the bastard,” Fenrir said.
“So, in summary,” Trenchant said, “Fenrir Jarl falls on ‘all things need a deeper purpose to exist,’ and even this charming little tome has lessons in it about how nice it would be if we all accepted each other’s differences. Whereas Anatole would like her children’s book to be all about the raw sexual energy to be unleashed between a sweet boy from Transylvania and the first girl to speak two words to him. Both sound absurd!”
“And your takeaway is somehow better?” Fenrir glowered.
“Also you’re wrong,” Anatole said.
“Where do you fall on this, Nine-pence?” Trenchant said, her tone sharp.
Seth looked up from his pacing. “Hm?”
“Hang on,” Anatole said. “Don’t change the subject! Seth D’Asur here is just huffy that Draccy boy failed to make an appearance, for whatever scheme he’s got cooked up for him. Don’t think we didn’t notice, by the way. But even that does not forgive the rudeness of intentionally misrepresenting my point!”
Seth continued his pacing, then, when he felt the eyes of the others on him, flopped gracelessly into a sofa.
“And not to mention trying to obfuscate her own exceedingly horrid point,” Fenrir added.
Trenchant stood, hands spread on the table surface. “It’s not horrid. This world is horrid. Dark and foul and full of amorphous low-grade evil. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth just breathing this ugly air. Children bring light and joy to the world.” Trenchant gave Anatole a look. “They do not soil the world with your sordid obsession with intercourse.” She turned on Fenrir. “They are not so full of themselves as to wax philosophical on something that should be left joyful and free of sterile clinical analysis. Can’t we just enjoy things like children anymore? Does everything have to be about something?”
With this last statement, she glared at Seth D’Asur.
The other three vampires silently digested these points, until Anatole sat back with a huff. “I still think that the author should let those two boys just be with each other.”
The other three exchanged glances.
A ruffled sigh erupted from Fenrir.
“Did you perhaps read the wrong book?” Trenchant finally asked.
“I did notice there was no film version available this time,” Fenrir said.
“No, and no!” Anatole countered. “They obviously like each other, Boz and the vampire kid, wossname, Vlady.”
“What are you on about?” Trenchant asked. “No matter! Boys or girls, let them be young, damn you! Children are beautiful, flawless creatures, and should not be soiled with such sordid imaginings.”
“Enough of this,” Seth said, leaving the table, heading to the proprietor Mr Cavendish and his assistant Meadow Summers.
“I’m not thinking like that,” Anatole countered. “Who is having sordid thoughts now? They could be friends and frolic through a field of flowers holding hands in the sunshine for all the beauty you care about.”
“Really? You think that?” Trenchant asked.
“And then when they get a little older, then they can find more than friendship in each other’s arms, and then that girl can try to pull them apart, a love triangle, and then they can duel to the death for the love they once shared!”
“What is wrong with you?” Trenchant demanded with a flat expression.
Seth returned to the table, Meadow in tow. She was swiping around on her tablet before handing it to Trenchant.
“And what’s this?” she asked.
“It’s a device that can play videos,” Seth replied.
“I know what a tablet is, you jubilee-born ingrate. Why is she handing it to me?”
“Just tap the triangle button with the tip of your finger.”
Trenchant glowered and tapped the button. “Oh look, more beautiful children,” she said.
An unholy cacophony erupted from the tablet.
Trenchant nearly dropped it.
The noise continued for the better part of one and a half minutes.
“What in the pits of hell is that noise?!” Fenrir shouted.
“A compilation of spoiled children having temper tantrums!” Seth shouted back over the noise. “It’s seventeen minutes long!”
“Make it stop!” Trenchant shouted, wildly tapping her finger everywhere on the tablet except anywhere near the pause or stop button.
Meadow managed to get the tablet from her and stopped the video.
“Well,” Trenchant said, getting her composure under control again. “That was a bracing reminder, that one must take the bad with the good. But on the whole…”
“Meadow,” Seth said. “How many videos like this are on that site?”
“Hard to say,” she whispered, clearly intimidated by the company, “A few…”
“A few?” Trenchant said. “That’s not too bad.”
“Thousand,” Meadow finished. “Perhaps a million, if we look hard enough.”
“Ah-” She slumped into a chair. “Perhaps there truly is no beauty left in this world.”
“Well,” Fenrir said. “I would call that a successful meeting of the book club. Everyone got what they wanted?”
Trenchant was staring into the middle distance.
“This was awful,” Anatole said. “The next book better be worth it. I’m sure Dracula had a smashing time, wherever he was.”
“You called?” Dracula said from behind her chair.
She stiffened. “Do that again, and I will spread your dust among the pages of every book in this room. Then you’ll literally be in every book.”
“What did I miss?” Dracula asked.
Trenchant left in solemn haste.
Fenrir stood ponderously, collecting his notes and books and carefully placing them in his sash-bag before departing.
Anatole sat grinning, clearly envisioning the details of her plan to redistribute Dracula’s ashes.
“What?” Dracula asked.
“Seriously, dude?” Seth said.
