The travelling ancients had arrived in three conspicuously inconspicuous, undemonstratively luxurious, doubtlessly ruinous shiny black limousines. As requested by the travel agent, the alley gates had been opened so that the group could alight comfortably. One by one, the sleek chauffeur-driven cars entered the impasse, each disgorging three haughty presences with luggage that had been made to last many centuries ago.
Josse tipped the last of all three drivers, then turned to face his guests. In honour of his distinguished customers, he was wearing his least disreputable pair of jeans and a T-shirt that had been ironed at least once in living memory. His man bun, exceptionally, sported a stylish hair stick in lieu of whatever long, thin object he’d had to hand.
The elegant wrought-iron pin certainly made a change from the random butter knives, cheap biros or gnawed pencils that usually stuck out of his topknot. It had been forged for his protection many decades ago, by a Breton fire-wizard who had used nails from the door of a church.
A treasured possession usually kept in its own box, in a special drawer, in a locked cabinet at the back of his study, where few visitors, if any, were ever admitted. You never knew though, with unfamiliar vampires, and here he was facing a whole conceit of them.
He couldn’t make out which of them was in charge. All nine just stood there silently in the fading light of the day, haughty and immobile in charcoal and black except for the one with the dishevelled beehive, who appeared to be chewing gum. Her smudged eyeliner and exposed bra straps contrasted with the bland business attire of her companions – some of whom might have preferred the flamboyant crinolines and codpieces of their youth, but who nevertheless understood the benefits of blending in.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” said Josse, addressing the entire bleak clique.
“Magnificences,” whispered the third driver as he pocketed his tip. “You’re meant to refer to them as Magnificences.”
Josse merely smiled, and the driver shrugged and left. No skin off his nose if this Sixties throwback decided to cruise for a bruising.
“Show us to our apartments, innkeeper,” one of the older men snarled.
“Let’s just recap on the house rules before we proceed,” Josse replied. “I trust the agency informed you?”
In response, his guest snorted dismissively and looked away.
“No getting us noticed, and no bloodsucking on or off premises throughout the duration of your stay.”
“Your childish rules don’t concern us. We will feed as we choose, as our kind always have.”
“Not while you’re staying here.”
“The agent did warn us that your establishment is uncommonly woke.”
“Why thank you,” Josse beamed. “We do our best.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“Maybe not to you,” Josse replied. “Would you like to see your room?”
***
The coffin cellar was at its most gothic, with a fresh supply of guttering candles and a vast arrangement of half-dead roses drooping near the back wall. The thin layer of soil at the bottom of the ten open caskets had been neatly raked, and a recording of howling gales, crackling log fires and clinking crystal was playing on a loop.
“It will do,” a tall, grey-haired matron sniffed while the others settled silent arguments over who got which box.
“I wonder what we’ll do for food, though,” wheedled the beehive babe as she sidled up to Josse, pointedly inspecting his throat.
“You’ll find plenty of vegetarian options on our room service menu,” he replied without missing a beat. “I recommend the lentil bake.”
***
“Just as we expected,” Josse remarked to Azélie, who was waiting for him back in the alley. He had left the fanged guests to settle in, which they appeared to be doing. Still, the night was yet young.
“Most of my clan are like that,” she replied. “They’re fine with a few of them being hunted down by angry villagers once in a while so long as the rest can carry on as before.”
“I’m sorry to inflict this extra task on you, particularly with that werewolf ceremony coming up. We can’t afford to turn away business, but you’ll have to keep an eye on them.”
“Absolutely no bother,” she grinned, her canines gleaming in the dusk. “Bring ‘em on. Me and my team, we’re just hoping that someone will step out of line. It’s been ages since we had a chance to let rip.”
“They’re vampires. They’re as strong as you are, they have the same capabilities, and unlike you they have absolutely no scruples. They could seriously hurt you.”
“Scruples? How so we have scruples?” She huffed away, muttering under her breath. “Non mais ça va pas la tête” was all he could make out.
Fabulous. He’d managed to upset a fellow resident.
Oh well. Off he went too, humming his favourite ballad. The one about the times that are a-cha-ha-han-ging.