House of Night: The Quest for Cringe Continues - White-Kettle-Shufflepunk reads some terrible vampire books

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

I think in the end, the true fantasy for these two is having the decision to get face tattoos taken out of their hands.

 

[TheAmbiguousLurker]

Ah, the ever popular YA trope of the pet gay guy in his natural habitat, where 90% of his lines involve reiterating that he's gay and is more woman than man.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

Ah, the ever popular YA trope of the pet gay guy in his natural habitat, where 90% of his lines involve reiterating that he's gay and is more woman than man.

Yet the other 10% is about how he's better than other gays for not being girly.

 

[TheAmbiguousLurker]

Yet the other 10% is about how he's better than other gays for not being girly.

Which, ironically, is the girliest thing he can do.

 

[Monolith]

Actually, that reminds me, when was the last time any of you saw a serious vampire story where garlic was treated as a proper bane instead of being laughed off? The only place I tend to see it be used like that in modern stories are stuff aimed at little kids that doesn't want to bring up religion.

Is I am Legend too old to count?

 

[Alabama Gamer]

I imagine the Jewish kids grasp the concept pretty easily. Of course, they're probably also a bit conflicted about being forced to convert to a new religion,

I feel like the joke here is, if anything, a bit too obvious.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

Now that we're onto the eleventh chapter of this novel about Vampire Hogwarts, it's time for Zoey's first morning at Vampire Hogwarts. If the two Casts had written Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Hagrid would have arrived five pages after the book ended.

didn’t have a nightmare, either. Instead I dreamed about cats. Go figure. Hot boys? No. Cool new vampire powers? Of course not. Just cats. There was one in particular—a small orange tabby who had little tiny paws and a pot belly with a pouch that looked kinda marsupial. She kept yelling at me in an old lady’s voice and asking what had taken me so long to get here. Then her cat voice changed to an annoying buzzing beeping sound and I . . .
“Zoey, come on! Turn that stupid alarm clock off!

Zoey is so fucking special, even her stupid cat has to be foreshadowed by prophetic dreams.

“Wha—, huh?” Oh, hell. I hate mornings. My hand flailed about trying to find the off switch of my annoying alarm clock. Have I mentioned that I am totally, completely blind without my contacts? I grabbed my nerdy glasses and peeked at the time. Six thirty P.M., and I was just waking up. Talk about bizarre.

I'm shocked Zoey hasn't killed Khmer Rouge'd herself for having a physical flaw, let alone one associated with NEEEEEEEERDS. Also, I guess this means her body is rejecting the Change and she'll dead soon. Please?

Do you want to take a shower first, or do you want me to?” Stevie Rae asked sleepily.

“I will, if you don’t care.”

“I don’t . . . ,” She yawned.

“ ’Kay.”

“We should hurry, though, ’cause, I don’t know about you, but I have to eat breakfast or I feel like I’m going to starve to death before lunch.”

“Cereal?” I suddenly perked up. I seriously adore cereal, and have an I ♥ CEREAL shirt somewhere to prove it.

Zoey is so boring, she considers liking the most popular breakfast food in America quirky.

I especially love Count Chocula—yet another vampyre irony.

Shouldn't the Anti-Vampire Defamation League have killed Count Chocula years ago? Also, I really hope a school that's obsessed with healthy eating doesn't stock sugary breakfast cereals

I did hurry, even though I was really nervous about not looking right and I wished I could take hours doing and redoing my hair and makeup. I used Stevie Rae’s makeup mirror while she was in the shower, and decided that under-doing was probably a better choice than over-doing. It was weird how my Mark seemed to change the whole focus of my face. I’ve always had nice eyes—big and round and dark, with lots of lashes. So much that Kayla used to whine about how unfair it was that I had enough lashes for three girls and she only had short little blond ones. (Speaking of . . . I did miss Kayla, especially this morning as I was getting ready to go to a new school without her. Maybe I’d call her later. Or e-mail her. Or . . . I remembered the comment Heath had made about the party, and decided maybe not.)

Phew, for a second there I thought Zoey might actually miss her best friend. Well, miss how she used to gush over her appearance, at least.

Anyway, the Mark somehow made my eyes look even bigger and darker. I lined them with a smoky black shadow that had little sparkly flecks of silver in it. Not heavily like those loser girls who think that plastering on black eyeliner makes them look cool. Yeah, right. They look like scary raccoons. I smudged the line, added mascara, brushed some bronzing powder over my face, and put on lip gloss (to hide the fact that I’d been nervously picking at my lips).

Do even teenage girls find the morning makeup routines of other, fictional teenage girls interesting?

Then I stared at myself.

Thankfully my hair was acting right, and even my weird widow’s peak wasn’t sticking all up crazily like it did sometimes. I still looked . . . umm . . . different, but the same. The effect my Mark had on my face hadn’t faded. It made everything that was ethnic about my features stand out: the darkness of my eyes, my high Cherokee cheekbones, my proud, straight nose, and even the olive color of my skin that was like my grandma’s. The sapphire Mark of the Goddess seemed to have flipped a switch and spotlighted those features; it had freed the Cherokee girl within me and allowed her to shine.

Aren't you supposed to be a unique blend of Cherokee and European?

Your hair looks great,” Stevie Rae said as she came into the room toweling dry her short hair. “I wish mine would act right when it’s long. It doesn’t. It just frizzes out and looks like a horse’s tail.”

“I like your short hair,” I said, moving out of her way and grabbing my cute sparkly black ballet flats.

“Yeah, well, it makes me a freak here. Everybody has long hair.”

“I noticed, but I don’t really get it.”

“It’s one of the things that happens while we’re going through the Change. Vamps’ hair grows abnormally fast, just like their fingernails.”

Hah! In real life, vampires having longer fingernails and their hair seemingly continuing to grow is due to people not understanding how corpses decompose.

“You’ll see. After a while you won’t have to look at their symbols to know what year they are. Anyway, you’ll learn all about that kind of stuff in Vamp Sociology class. Oh! That reminds me.”

"Vampire Sociology really sounds more like student orientation, doesn't it?"

No, she just wants to give Zoey her schedule.

My name was at the top of the schedule, printed in bold letters, ZOEY REDBIRD, ENTERING THIRD FORMER, as well as the date, which was five (?!) days before the Tracker had Marked me.

Personally, if I saw that they already knew what new name I'd pick nearly a week later, I'd wonder how much it was actually my own choice. Also, vampires know at least five days in advance when someone is going to become a vampire, but only send the Trackers to tell them when they start to die. I have to hope these guys are capable of sexual reproduction, because if this is the only way they can replace their numbers, they're fucked.

as the date, which was five (?!) days before the Tracker had Marked me.
1st hour—Vampyre Sociology 101. Rm. 215. Prof. Neferet
2nd hour—Drama 101. Performing Arts Center. Prof. Nolan
or
Sketching 101. Rm. 312. Prof. Doner
or
Intro to Music. Rm. 314. Prof. Vento
3rd hour—Lit 101. Rm. 214. Prof. Penthesilea
4th hour—Fencing. Gymnasium. Prof. D. Lankford

LUNCH BREAK

5th hour—Spanish 101. Rm. 216. Prof. Garmy
6th hour—Intro to Equestrian Studies. Field House. Prof. Lenobia

You'll notice a distinct lack of maths or science. In general, this looks like it was written by a tutor for noble daughters in the 1800s. I suspect the House of Night is attempting to push as many of its graduates into the arts as possible, in hopes that donations from wealthy alumni will be able to keep it afloat n spite of wild, extravagant spending on their part. I'm guessing after the 2008 financial crisis, they started making all the kids learn to code.

“No geometry?” I blurted, totally overwhelmed by the schedule, but trying to keep a positive attitude.
“No, thankfully. Next semester we’ll have to take economics, though. But that couldn’t be as bad.”

Performing arts star or stock-broker. Yeah, this is definitely a school that wants you paying your dues. Or the Casts just designed the curriculum based around what they thought sounded fun and posh, and threw in economics to try and make it look rounded.

“Fencing? Intro to Equestrian Studies?”

“I told you they like to keep us in shape. Fencing’s okay, even though it’s hard. I’m not very good at it, but you do get paired with upperclassmen a lot—kind of like peer instructors, and I’m just sayin’, some of those boys are just plain hot! I’m not taking the horse class this semester—they put me in Tae Kwan Do. And I have to tell ya, I love it!”

You could lob a similar criticism at Hogwarts' lack of stuff like maths (especially when a lot of the stuff they do still involves maths) but at least they taught you how to make reality your bitch with a wooden stick, not settle disputes like a Prussian gentleman.

“Really?” I said doubtfully. Wonder what the horse class would be like?

Gee, I wonder. Maybe they'll teach you how to recognise and ward off bronies.

I glanced back down the list. “Which one are you taking?”
“Intro to Music. Professor Vento is cool, and I, uh . . .” Stevie Rae grinned and blushed. “I want to be a country music star. I mean, Kenny Chesney, Faith Hill, and Shania Twain are all vamps—and that’s just three of them. Heck, Garth Brooks grew up right here in Oklahoma and you know he’s the biggest vamp of them all. So I don’t see why I can’t be one, too.”
“Makes perfect sense to me,” I said. Why not?
“You want to take music with me?”

You know, a lot of country-music fans are pretty big "People of Faith." You'd think they wouldn't be so fond of pagan bloodsuckers.

That’d be fun if I could sing or play anything resembling an instrument. I can’t.”
“Oh, well, maybe not then.”
“Actually, I was thinking about the drama class. I was in drama at SIHS, and I liked it okay. Do you know anything about Prof. Nolan?”
“Yeah, she’s from Texas and has a major accent, but she studied drama in New York and everyone likes her.”
I almost laughed out loud when Stevie Rae mentioned Prof. Nolan’s accent. The girl twanged so bad she sounded like an ad for a trailer park, but no way was I gonna hurt her feelings by mentioning it.

I feel like Zoey looks down on anyone who doesn't sound like a newscaster.

“Well, then drama it is.”

“Okay, grab your schedule and let’s go. Hey,” she said as we hurried out of the room and skipped down the stairs, “maybe you’ll be the next Nicole Kidman!”

Well, I guess being the next Nicole Kidman wouldn’t be bad (not that I plan on marrying and then divorcing a manic short guy).

So, are Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise vampires? Is Tom Cruise a vampire, but also a Scientologist? Or is one sinister celebrity-cult enough?

Now that Stevie Rae mentioned it, I hadn’t really thought much about my future career since the Tracker had thrown my life into complete chaos, but now that I was actually thinking about it I still really wanted to be a veterinarian.
An obese long-haired black and white cat sprinted down the steps in front of us chasing a cat that looked like its clone. With all these cats you’d think that there would definitely be a need for vamp vets. (Hee hee . . . vamp vets . . . I could call my clinic Vamp Vets, and the ads would read: “We’ll take your blood for free!”)

How many pets can Zoey put down in one business day?

The kitchen and living room were crowded with girls eating and talking and hurrying around. I tried to return some of the hellos I was getting as Stevie Rae introduced me to what seemed like an impossibly confusing stream of girls and keep my concentration on finding a box of Count Chocula. Just when I was starting to worry, I found it, hidden behind several massive boxes of Frosted Flakes (not a bad second choice, but, well, they’re not chocolate and they don’t have any yummy little marshmallows). Stevie Rae poured a quick bowl of Lucky Charms, and we perched at the kitchen table, eating fast.

Remember when they said you wouldn't find anything as fatty and gross as Twinkies here? Also, I sincerely hope there's a school for smexy leprechauns just across town.

Aprhodite appears to remind Zoey about the Dark Daughters ritual later that night, right after the school's main worship service, and it's off to class.

Zoey! Over here!”

I almost cried in relief when I heard Damien’s voice and saw his hand waving at an empty desk next to him.

“Hi.” I sat down and smiled gratefully at him.

“Are you ready for your first day?”

No.

I nodded. “Yep.” I wanted to say more, but just then a bell gave five quick rings and as the echo of it died Neferet swept into the room. She was wearing a long black skirt slit up the side to show great stiletto boots, and a deep purple silk sweater. Over her left breast, embroidered in silver, was the image of a goddess with her arms upraised, hands cupping a crescent moon. Her black hair was pulled back into a thick braid. The series of delicate wavelike tattoos that framed her face made her look like an ancient warrior priestess. She smiled at us and I could see that the entire class was as caught as I was by her powerful presence.

Warriors are well known for their love of high-heels.

Good evening! I’ve been looking forward to beginning this unit. Delving into the rich sociology of the Amazons is one of my favorites.” Then she gestured to me. “It is excellent timing that Zoey Redbird has joined us today. I am Zoey’s mentor, so I’ll expect my students to welcome her. Damien, would you please get Zoey a textbook? Her cabinet is next to yours. While you explain our locker system to her I want the rest of you to journal about what preconceived impressions you have of the ancient vampyre warriors who are known as the Amazons.”

You'd think there'd be an actual orientation class for new fledgelings. You know, stuff about basic vampire biology, how not to die from botched vampire puberty, that kind of thing. Maybe the Casts didn't want to risk Zoey having to share a classroom with twelve year old twerps. Or maybe they didn't want to risk twelve year olds having to share the room with her.

The typical paper rustling and student whispering commenced while Damien led me to the back of the classroom where there was a wall of cabinets. He opened one that had the number “12” in silver on it. The cabinet contained neat, wide shelves filled with textbooks and supplies.

“At the House of Night there aren’t lockers, like at regular schools. Here, first hour is our homeroom and we each have a cabinet of our own.

So, just like my Christian middle school in the Australian boonies?

The room will always be open, so you come back here to get books and whatever, just like you would go to a locker in the hall. Here’s the sociology book.”

He handed me a thick leather book with the silhouette of a goddess stamped on the front of it along with the title, Vampyre Sociology 101. I grabbed a notebook and a couple of pens. When I shut the cabinet door I hesitated.

“Isn’t there a lock or something?”

“No,” Damien lowered his voice. “They don’t need locks here. If someone steals something, the vamps know it. I don’t even want to think about what would happen to someone stupid enough to do that.”

Of course, we did have locks, because we weren't a cult that relied on vague threats of violence to maintain basic order.

We sat back down and I started to write about the only thing I knew about the Amazons—that they were warrior women who didn’t have much use for men—but my mind wasn’t on my work. Instead, I was wondering why Damien, Stevie Rae, and even Erin and Shaunee all freak out about getting in trouble. I mean, I’m a good kid—okay, not perfect, but still. I’ve only had detention once so far, and that wasn’t my fault. Really. Some turd boy told me to suck his cock. What was I supposed to do? Cry? Giggle? Pout? Umm . . . no . . . So instead I bitch-slapped him (although I prefer just using the word smacked), and I got detention for it.

Then why didn't you use "smacked"!

Anyway, detention wasn’t actually that bad. I got all my homework done and started the new Gossip Girls book. Clearly detention at the House of Night entailed more than going to a teacher’s classroom for forty-five minutes of “quiet time” after school. I’d have to remember to ask Stevie Rae . . .

I bet all the characters in Gossip Girls are vampires.

“First, what pieces of the Amazon tradition do we still practice at the House of Night?” Neferet asked, drawing my attention back to class.

Damien raised his hand. “The bow of respect, with our fist over our heart, comes from the Amazons, and so does the way we shake hands—by gripping forearms.”

“Correct, Damien.”

Huh. That explained the funny handshake.

“So, what preconceived notions do you have about the Amazon warriors?” she asked the class.

A blonde who sat on the other side of the room said, “The Amazons were heavily matriarchal, as are all vampyre societies.”

Jeesh, she sounded smart.

“That’s true, Elizabeth, but when people discuss the Amazons, legend tends to add an additional layer to history. What do I mean by that?”

“Well, people—especially humans—think that the Amazons were man-haters,” said Damien.

Silly, I mean, all they did was invade villages, rape all the men, and then kill any boys they gave birth to.

Exactly. What we know is that just because a society is matriarchal, as ours is, it does not automatically mean that it is anti-male. Even Nyx has a consort, the god Erebus, to whom she is devoted.

So devoted, most of her children are described as being birthed without a father. I still want to know, are Erebus and Eros and all these other associated gods real too? Because there's no sign that say, Erebus has a shrine on campus that the Sons of Night pray to. Hell, he doesn't even have a special room where you get a special bonus item if you kill all the enemies without being hit. This is pretty unusual for a supposedly polytheistic faith. Athens may have been chiefly devoted to Athena, but you still had important temples to Zeus, Poseidon, Hera and the rest. Here, Nyx's male relatives only seem to exist to provide class mascots and be pointed to whenever vampires are rightfully accused of misandry.

The Amazons were unique, though, in that they were a society of vampyre women who chose to be their own warriors and protectors.

So, vampire women are both much more physically powerful than human men, and as we'll soon see, wield most of the magical power in their society. They're perfectly capable of defending themselves from most of the rest of the planet, but choose not to.

As most of you already know, our society today is still matriarchal, but we respect and appreciate the Sons of Night, and consider them our protectors and consorts.

In other words, the men get to fight for and be used as sex-toys by the elite of vampire society, with no voice in political or spiritual matters in recompense. I knew life as a vampire would be one long, dark night, but I didn't expect to be a hens night.

Professor Nolan didn’t ooze power like Neferet. Instead she oozed energy. She had an athletic, but somehow pear-shaped body. Her brunet hair was long and straight. And Stevie Rae had been right—she had a serious Texas twang.

“Zoey, welcome! Have a seat anywhere.”

I said hi and sat beside the Elizabeth girl I recognized from Vamp Soc. She looked friendly enough and I already knew she was smart. (It never hurts to sit next to a smart kid.)

“We’re just about to begin choosing the monologues that each of you will present to the class sometime next week. But first, I thought you’d like to have a demonstration of how a monologue should be performed, so I asked one of our talented upperclassmen to stop by and recite the famous monologue from Othello, written by the ancient vampyre playwright, Shakespeare.” Professor Nolan paused and glanced out of the window in the door. “Here he is now.”

I just want to know what Shakespeare was doing writing plays when he should've been guarding some High Priestesses' harem.

The door opened and oh my dear sweet lord I do believe my heart totally stopped beating. I’m positive my mouth flopped open like a moron. He was the most gorgeous young lad I had ever seen. He was tall and had dark hair that did that adorably perfect Superman curl thing. His eyes were an amazing sapphire blue and . . .

Oh. Hell! Hell! Hell! It was the guy from the hall.

“Come on in, Erik. As usual, your entrance timing is perfect. We are ready for your monologue.” She turned back to the class. “Most of you already know fifth former, Erik Night, and are aware that he won last year’s worldwide House of Night monologue competition, the finals of which were held in London. He is also already creating a buzz in Hollywood as well as on Broadway for his performance last semester as Tony in our production of West Side Story. The class is all yours, Erik.” Prof Nolan beamed.

Notice that Zoey puts a lot less effort into describing boys than she does women. I would joke about her being a closet lesbian, but I think it's more that she's turned on specifically by generic guys.

“Hi. How are you guys doing?”

He spoke directly to me. I mean, directly to me. I could feel my face getting really hot.

“Monologues seem intimidating, but the key is to get your lines down, and then to imagine that you’re actually acting with a full cast of actors. Trick yourself into thinking you’re not up here all alone, like this . . .”

And he began the monologue from Othello. I don’t know much about the play, except that it’s one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, but Erik’s performance was amazing. He was a tall guy, probably at least six feet, but as he began to speak he seemed to get bigger and older and more powerful. His voice deepened and he took on an accent I couldn’t place. His incredible eyes darkened and narrowed into slits, and when he said Desdemona’s name it was like he was praying. It was obvious he loved her, even before he spoke the concluding lines:

She loved me for the dangers I had passed,
And I loved her that she did pity them.

Acting must be really easy when you have a few dots in Majesty. Also, yes, this one of the points in the inevitable love-triangle.

“He’s so f-ing hot,” someone whispered in my ear. I turned and, shockingly, Ms. Perfect Student Elizabeth was staring after Erik and fanning herself.

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” I blurted like an idiot.

“Only in my dreams,” Elizabeth said. “Actually, word has it that he and Aphrodite used to be hooked up, but I’ve been here for a few months and it’s been over between them at least that long. Here ya go,” she tossed a couple of monologue books at me. “I’m Elizabeth, no last name.”

My face was a question mark.

She sighed. “My last name was Titsworth. Can you imagine? When I got here a few weeks ago and my mentor explained that I could change my name to whatever I wanted it to be, I knew I was going to get rid of the Titsworth part, but then the whole issue of picking a new last name just stressed me too much. So I decided I’d keep my first name and not hassle with a last name.” Elizabeth No Last Name shrugged.

So, are fledglings allowed to change their minds about this later, or does Elizabeth have to live with no surname forever?

“Well, hi,” I said. There were really some odd kids here.

I don't think Elizabeth No Last Name would even rate after meeting a rapist, and a black girl with a name like a minstrel show character who thinks a white chick she met three months ago is her sister because she shares a shoe size. Stevie's alright, though. Pretty much the Calamity of this series, though Calamity wins out for being a badass gunslinging superheroine.

Lit class was an experience. First of all, the classroom itself was totally different than any I’d ever seen. There were bizarrely interesting posters and paintings and what looked like original art work filling every inch of wall space.

Posters and art in a classroom! Who's ever heard of such a thing?

“I was born in April of year 1902,” Professor Penthesilea said, instantly grabbing our attention. I mean, please, she barely looked thirty. “So I was ten years old in April of 1912, and I remember the tragedy very well. About what am I speaking? Do any of you have any idea?”

Okay, I knew exactly what she was talking about, but it wasn’t because I’m a hopeless history nerd. It’s because when I was younger I thought I was in love with Leonardo DiCaprio, and my mom got me the entire DVD collection of his movies for my twelfth birthday. This particular movie I watched so many times I still have most of it memorized (and I can not tell you how many times I snot cried when he slipped off that board and floated away like an adorable Popsicle).

Obviously Titanic is hardly obscure, but Zoey doesn't seem to be into anything that came out after she was five or so.

I looked around. No one else seemed to have a clue, so I sighed and raised my hand.
Prof P smiled and called on me, “Yes, Miss Redbird.”
“The Titanic sank in April of 1912. It was struck by the iceberg late on Sunday night, the fourteenth, and sank just a few hours later on the fifteenth.”
I heard Damien suck air beside me, and Stevie Rae’s little huh. Jeesh, had I really been acting so stupid that they were shocked to hear me answer a question correctly?

Yes. I'm shocked you didn't think they made up the Titanic for the movie.

I do love it when a new fledgling knows something,” Professor Penthesilea said. “Absolutely correct, Miss Redbird. I was living in Chicago at the time of the tragedy, and I will never forget the newsies shouting the tragic headlines from the street corners. It was a horrid event, especially because the loss of lives was so preventable. It also signaled the end of one age and the beginning of another, as well as bringing about many much-needed changes in shipping laws. We are going to study all of this, plus the deliciously melodramatic events of the night, in our next piece of literature, Walter Lord’s meticulously researched book, A Night to Remember. Although Lord was not a vampyre—and it’s really a shame he wasn’t,” she added under her breath, “I still find his take on the night compelling and his writing style and tone interesting and very readable. Okay, let’s get started! The last person in each row, get books for the people in your row from the long cabinet in the back of the room.”

Wouldn't this be a better beat for like, a history class?

Well, cool! This was definitely more interesting than reading Great Expectations (Pip, Estella, who cares?!).

"Hey fellow kids, Zoey Redbird here! Like the rest of us, I also hate classical literature, oral sex, but I love old rom-coms from the 1990s. Also, cereal, for some reason."

Three class hours almost over and I’d liked all of them. Was it possible that this vamp school would actually be more than a boring place I went to every day because I had to and, besides that, all my friends were there? Not that all of the classes at SIHS had been boring, but we didn’t get to study the Amazons and the Titanic (from a teacher who’d been alive when it sank!).

Just alive when it sank. She wasn't on the Titanic or connected to it in any other way, but she did hear newsboys shouting about it while playing jacks or something on the street. Totally makes everything so much more interesting. I bet Zoey loves hearing her (white) grandmother talk about the old days. Still, she's zeroed in on the biggest problem in modern education: not being tailored exactly to Zoey Redbird's interests.

Then my eye was caught by something red and bushy on the other side of the room near the rear of the class. I’d spoken too soon—not all of the kids were paying attention. This one had his head down on his arms and he was sound asleep, which I knew because his chubby, way-too-white-and-freckled face was turned in my direction. His mouth was open, and I think he might have been drooling a little. I wondered what Prof P would do to the kid. She didn’t seem like the kind of teacher who would be cool with some slug sleeping in the back of the room, but she just kept on with her reading, interspersed with interesting firsthand facts about the early twentieth century, which I really liked (I loved hearing about the flappers—I would definitely have been a flapper if I’d lived in the 1920s).

Zoey is literally this video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hc6VP7Qp-Y8&ab_channel=CollegeHumor

More importantly, Zoey's been told more than once that fatigue and weight-gain are signs that the Change is failing. She is literally watching a kid die slowly in front of her, and all she can think is how she hopes the teacher busts this fat, ugly ginger kid ass.

I honestly can't decide which thread protagonist I hate more. Yeah, Danny was a violent maniac and a walking billboard for child-mutilation, the Casts clearly think Zoey is some kind of ideal human. They had a goddess come down from heaven and tell us. Zoey, a mean, petty idiot who seems to despise everyone who isn't perfectly mid in every way. She hates jocks, she hates nerds, she hates goths and cheerleaders. She hates people who are too fat, and too skinny. She's okay with gay people, but only as long as they're not too gay. She at best tolerates people with identifiable regional accents She hates people who have sex wrong, way more than she hates hates rape. She thinks in entirely in brand-names, and displays no interest in anything but the most generic and ubiquitous pop-culture. She's liberal by default, but has no appreciation for liberal virtues. She's a top 40 playlist in vampire form. The worst thing is, I have the horrible feeling people like her rule the world right now.

“Elliott, I need to see you,” Prof P said from behind her desk.

The kid took his time getting up and then dragged his feet, scuffing his untied shoes, over to her desk.

“Yeah?”

“Elliott, you are, of course, failing Lit. But what’s more important, you’re failing life. Vampyre males are strong, honorable, and unique. They have been our warriors and protectors for countless generations. How do you expect to make the Change into a being who is more warrior than man if you do not practice the discipline it takes even to stay awake in class?”

"Vampyre males are unique, so long as they adhere to these exacting standards."

Also, a being more warrior than man sounds kind of terrible? Like a creature driven utterly by violence.

He shrugged his soft-looking shoulders.

Her expression hardened. “I shall give you one opportunity to make up the zero for class participation you received today by writing a short paper on any issue that was important in America in the early twentieth century. The paper is due tomorrow.”

Without saying anything, he started to turn away.

“Elliott,” Prof P’s voice had dropped and, thick with irritation, it made her sound way scarier than she’d seemed while she had been reading and lecturing. I could feel the power radiating from her, and it made me wonder why she would ever need a male anything to protect her. The kid stopped and turned back to face her. “I did not excuse you. What is your decision about doing the work to make up today’s zero?”

The kid just stood there without saying anything.

“That question calls for an answer, Elliott. Now!” The air around her crackled with the command, making the skin on my arms tingle.

Invoking Presence or Majesty or whatever over a fucking homework assignment isn't scary or impressive, it's pathetic.

Seemingly unaffected, he shrugged again. “I probably won’t do it.”
“That says something about your character, Elliott, and it’s not something good. You’re not only letting yourself down, but you’re letting down your mentor, too.”
He shrugged again and absently picked his nose. “The Dragon already knows how I am.”

And our man fucking no-sells it while Zoey's quivering in the corner. Clear chadness aside, I feel so sorry for Elliot. This poor boy was ripped from his home, is dying, and probably knows it, and all the staff are doing is whine at him for not being good footstool material for some vampire bitch. He's an undeniably tragic case, and the story has nothing but contempt for him.

The bell rang and Prof P, with a disgusted look on her face, motioned for Elliott to leave the room. Damien, Stevie Rae, and I had just stood up and were starting to walk out the door when Elliott slouched by us, moving more quickly than I believed possible for someone so sloth-like.

Celerity is the coolest Discipline, yes.

He bumped into Damien, who was ahead of us. Damien made an oops sound and stumbled a little.

“Fucking faggot, get outta my way,” the loser kid snarled, pushing Damien with his shoulder so he could get through the door before him.

“I should smack the crap out of that jerk!” Stevie Rae said, hurrying up to Damien, who was waiting for us.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. That Elliott kid has major problems.”

Yeah, like dying.

“Yeah, like having poopie for brains,” I said, staring down the hall at the slug’s back. His hair was certainly unattractive.

Zoey is like a Dalek that got lost.

“Poopie for brains?” Damien laughed and linked one arm though mine and one through Stevie Rae’s, leading us down the hall Wizard of Oz fashion. “That’s what I like about our Zoey,” he said. “She has such a way with vulgar language.”

“Poopie’s not vulgar,” I said defensively.

“I think that’s his point, honey,” Stevie Rae laughed.

“Oh.” I laughed, too, and I really, really liked how it sounded when he’d said “our” Zoey . . . like I belonged . . . like I might be home.

Elliot's dying, who the fuck cares about you?

 

[Aloof Pessimism]

Elliot's the best character in the book thus far. We finally have someone who doesn't give a crap about the oh so cool and unique OC donut steels. I hope it turns out he is a fledgling at Count Dracula's Vampire Academy in Romania, sent to spy on the vampyre school of feminism.

"So you say these so-called vampyre mutants eat cereals, embrace matriarchy, teach feminism, lament the Titanic disaster, and have tattoos over their faces?" The entire council of vampire elders roared with laughter.

I honestly can't decide which thread protagonist I hate more.

Both are utter shits, but if we talk writing perspective? There is at least the tiniest trickle of self-awareness with Danny as the book reluctantly acknowledges him a sadistic psychopath who might have some issues.

 

[TheAmbiguousLurker]

Oh fuck, I forgot about Elliot. The books punching bag.

 

[IridiumDragon06]

Damn it, I am now entirely invested in Elliot's story.

I also realize that I'm going to miss out on one of the fun things of settings like this. Imagine trying to actually run a school when your professors could be hundreds of years apart in generation and mindset. The great part about having a bunch of historic characters is the opportunity to look at how attitudes have changed (and where they haven't) over the years. But, of course, vampire society is, was, and always will be a celebration of all the things the Casts find cool and interesting, and nothing but.

And with Garth Brooks being a vampire...ok, first, Jesus wept if this isn't some We Wuz Fangz bullshit with that celebrity list, but I definitely feel like I'm getting an insight into Stevie Rae's genesis, presumably as the Hermione self-insert character, and into Zoey's specific neuroses around accents and the like.

I'm also curious what the actual directional cycle of body rejects the change -> body loses demonic gifts of false youth and vigor -> person has displeased Lilith is. A metabolism that can naturally stitch flesh together really quickly is burning a lot of calories, and while there are enough sugary snacks to support the Cast's avatar and prevent her from experiencing even momentary hardship, rapid weight gain in that environment doesn't feel natural. It feels like if you're not constantly fighting for worthiness by respecting the vampires, Lilith, or both, then one or both of them just curses you, and then you die.

---

I will say that Elliot feels to me not just the best character, but the first real person that we've met so far. I also feel that of all the people that we've had Zoey randomly hate, her hate for him feels the most genuine, so much so that she can't even wrap words around it, because to do so would be something like "You don't care about the opinions of the rich, pretty, important people! You said a thing those people strongly implied and put social pressure into you not saying! You reveal that which I strive for with all of my being is ultimately hollow and fleeting!"

I imagine that he'll die at the end of the first year, and is meant to represent a clean break between Zoey's old life with her lessers and mere humans and her first step into her new exciting life of demonic rituals and blood rites, but damn if I'm not here for "If my choices are becoming a monster or slow degenerative death, I'll have the death, and I will give absolutely no shits about you or the meaningless bullshit you value along the way."

The only dragged-around-by-the-plot note is him swearing at Damien, but given the school's lackadaisical attitude towards minor things like attempted rape in the hallways and his own at-least-moderately-sus behavior, I'd absolutely believe that Damien has a reputation as a sex pest among the boys at the school. Hell, given the author's apparent neuroses, it's probably best not to speculate at all what's going on in the boys' dorm.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

I still can't get over the idea of a scary vampire invoking their dread aura to try and terrify a dying kid into doing a bullshit essay question... and it doesn't even work! It's like those folk tales where a simple peasant outwits the Devil as a lesson about the shoddy, deficient nature of evil.

 

[TheAmbiguousLurker]

I still can't get over the idea of a scary vampire invoking their dread aura to try and terrify a dying kid into doing a bullshit essay question... and it doesn't even work! It's like those folk tales where a simple peasant outwits the Devil as a lesson about the shoddy, deficient nature of evil.

A true chad does not run away or towards his fate, he simply lets it arrive at it's own pace.

 

[M3xus]

Yeah, Elliot's the best character so far. I'd actually be shocked if he survives the book, considering he's blatantly being setup to die horribly from failing to change.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

Fencing was totally cool, which was a surprise. Class was held in a huge room off the gym that looked like a dance studio, complete with a floor-to-ceiling wall of mirrors. Hanging from the ceiling along one side were weird life-sized manikins that reminded me of three-dimensional shooting targets. Everyone called Professor Lankford Dragon Lankford, or just Dragon. It didn’t take me long to figure out why. His tattoo represented two dragons whose bodies, serpent-like, wrapped down over his jaw line. Their heads were over his brows and their mouths were open, breathing fire at the crescent moon.

What, you don't have intricate tattoo-designs lurking in your junk DNA?

It was amazing and hard not to stare at. Plus, Dragon was the first male adult vampyre I’d seen up close. At first he confused me. I guess if you’d asked me what I expected from a male vampyre I would have said his opposite. Honestly, I had the movie-star vampyre stereotype in mind—tall, dangerous, handsome. You know, like Vin Diesel.

...Really? Of all the real-life celebrities you choose to represent the archetypal "vampyre" male, you pick... Vin Diesel? Lumbering, dorky flesh-golem Vin Diesel? Maybe his reputation was a bit less silly in 2007 (though, he was in XXX) but was he ever like, a sex symbol? He always seemed to me like an ugly- handsome, sometimes charismatic giant thumb. I wouldn't even give a woman shit for finding him sexy, it just seems like an odd pick, especially from the Casts.

Anyway, Dragon is short, has long blondish hair that he pulls back in a low ponytail, and (except for the fierce looking dragon tattoo) has a cute face with a warm smile.

I bet Elliot doesn't get to see that smile often.

“Zoey, it’s good to have you join the House of Night,” Dragon said, shaking my hand in the traditional Amazon vampyre greeting. “Damien can explain the different parts of the fencing uniform to you, and I’ll get you a handout to study over the next few days. I am assuming you’ve had no previous instruction in the sport?”

“No, I haven’t,” I said, and then added nervously, “but I’d like to learn. I mean, the whole idea of using a sword is just cool.”

Dragon smiled. “Foil,” he corrected, “you’ll be learning how to use a foil. It’s the lightest weight of the three types of weapons we have here, and an excellent choice for women. Did you know that fencing is one of the very few sports where women and men can compete on entirely equal terms?”

That seems doubtful? But I don't know much about fencing.

“No,” I said, instantly intrigued. How cool would it be to kick a guy’s butt at a sport?!

Man, imagine a YA book today acknowledging the gap between men and women in athletics.

Lunch was a huge build-your-own salad buffet, which included everything from tuna salad (eesh) to those weird mini-corns that are so confusing, and don’t even taste like corn. (What exactly are they? Baby corn? Midget corn? Mutant corn?)

Or as your grandmother calls it, mutant maize. We get a long, stupid bit where we debate whether Erik Night--who was doing a dramatic monologue--was actually trying to signal to Zoey--a freshman he's never exchanged two words with--that he wanted her body.

“Erik Night is the hottest damn thing at this entire school,” Shaunee said.

“Forget that—he’s the hottest damn thing on this planet,” Erin said.

“He’s not hotter than Kenny Chesney,” Stevie Rae said quickly.

I'm beginning to suspect P.C Cast has a type.

“Okay, just please with your country obsession!” Shaunee frowned at Stevie Rae before turning her attention back to me. “Do not let this opportunity pass you by.”

“Yeah,” Erin echoed. “Do not.”

“Pass me by? What am I supposed to do? He didn’t even say anything to me.”

“Uh, Zoey honey, did you smile back at the boy?” Damien asked.

I blinked. Had I smiled back at him? Ah, crap. I bet I hadn’t. I bet I just sat there and stared like a moron and maybe even drooled. Okay, well, I might not have drooled, but still. “I dunno,” I said instead of the sad truth, which didn’t fool Damien at all.

He snorted. “Next time smile at him.”

Look, Damien isn't like the other gays: he exists primarily to serve as romantic council to our female main character. Where have you ever seen that in 2000s high school media?

Also, Erik used to go out with Aphrodite. You know, the chick who molested him.

Or maybe your Mark made him look, and then he thought you were cute so he kept looking,” Damien said.
“Either way, his looking will definitely piss Aphrodite off,” Shaunee said.
“Which is a good thing,” Erin said.

Aren't you all terrified of her for some reason?

Stevie Rae waved away their comments. “Just forget about Aphrodite and your Mark and all that other stuff. Next time he smiles at you, say hi. That’s all.”
“Easy,” Shaunee said.
“Peasy,” Erin said.
“Okay,” I mumbled and went back to my salad, wishing desperately that the whole Erik Night issue was as easy-peasy as they thought it was.

This is basically like those stalkers who think celebrities are talking to them through the screen.

One thing about lunch at the House of Night was the same as lunch at SIHS or any other school I’d ever eaten at—it was over too soon. And then Spanish class was a blur. Profesora Garmy was like a little Hispanic whirlwind. I liked her right away (her tattoos looked oddly like feathers, so she reminded me of a little Spanish bird), but she ran the class speaking entirely in Spanish. Entirely. I should probably mention here that I haven’t had Spanish since eighth grade, and I freely admit to not paying much attention to it then. So I was pretty lost, but I wrote down the homework and promised myself that I’d study the vocab words. I hate being lost.

Wow, an energetic, feisty Hispanic woman. Subverting expectations left and right, the Casts. Also, seems like a pretty shitty teacher.

Intro to Equestrian Studies was held in the Field House. It was a long, low brick building over by the south wall, attached to a huge indoor riding arena. The whole place had that sawdusty, horsey smell that mixed with leather to form something that was pleasant, even though you know that part of the “pleasant” scent was poopie—horse poopie.

I stood nervously with a small group of kids just inside the corral where a tall, stern-faced upperclassman had directed us to wait. There were only about ten of us, and we were all third formers. Oh, (great) that annoying redheaded Elliott kid was slouching against the wall kicking at the sawdust floor. He raised enough dust to make the girl standing closest to him sneeze. She threw him a dirty look and moved a few steps away. God, did he irritate everyone? And why couldn’t he use some product (or perhaps a comb) on that nappy hair?

The hate is just so... visceral.

The sound of hooves drew my attention from Elliott and I looked up in time to see a magnificent black mare pounding into the corral at full gallop. She slid to a stop a couple feet in front of us. While we all gawked like fools, the mare’s rider dismounted gracefully. She had thick hair that reached to her waist and was so blond it was almost white, and eyes that were a weird shade of slate gray. Her body was tiny, and the way she stood reminded me of those girls who obsessively take dance classes so that even when they’re not in ballet they stand like they have something stuck way up their butts. Her tattoo was an intricate series of knots entwined around her face—within the sapphire design I was sure I could see plunging horses.

Group Zoey hates #22334: dancers. Really, she just seems to hate anyone with actual hobbies or passions.

“Good evening. I am Lenobia, and this,” she pointed at the mare and gave our group a contemptuous look before finishing the sentence, “is a horse.” Her voice rang against the walls. The black mare blew through her nose as if to punctuate her words. “And you are my new group of third formers. Each of you has been chosen for my class because we believe you might possibly have an aptitude for riding. The truth is that less than half of you will last the semester, and less than half of those who last will actually develop into decent equestrians. Are there any questions?” She didn’t pause long enough for anyone to ask anything. “Good. Then follow me and you shall begin.” She turned and marched back into the stable. We followed.

They go to all this effort to tailor their stupid classes to future students, but don't have the Trackers escort them to the school? When it's seemingly their only source of new members?

“Horses are not big dogs. Nor are they a little girl’s romanticized dream image of a perfect best friend who will always understand you.”

"That's what cats are for, apparently."

“Horses are work. Horses take dedication, intelligence, and time. We’ll begin with the work part. In the tack room down this hall you’ll find mucking boots. Choose a pair quickly, while we all get gloves. Then each of you take your own stall and get busy.”

Why is she making this very "first day of class" speech when class has already been in session for months? Does she give this speech every class in case a new idiot turns up?

Okay. Really. I know it’s going to sound weird, but I didn’t mind cleaning out my stall. I mean, horse poopie just isn’t that gross. Especially because it was obvious that these stalls were cleaned out like every other instant of the day. I grabbed the mucking boots (which were big rubber galoshes—totally ugly, but they did cover my jeans all the way up to my knees) and a pair of gloves and got to work.

I refuse to believe a girl who cares about the fashionability of mucking books is so chill with mucking itself.

There was music playing through excellent loudspeakers—something that I was pretty sure was Enya’s latest CD (my mom used to listen to Enya before she married John, but then he decided that it might be witch music so she quit, which is why I’ll always like Enya)

Zoey's going to be pissed if she ever finds out Enya's also a Christian. We get a boring short discussion between the teacher and Zoey about a gelding (so he'd have fit in here then) her grandmother used to own, followed by more Elliot bashing:

At the edge of my attention I vaguely heard Lenobia’s voice, sharp and angry, as she totally chewed out a student I guessed was the annoying redheaded kid. I peeked over Persephone’s shoulder and took a quick look down the stall line. Sure enough, the redheaded kid was slouched in front of his stall. Lenobia stood beside him, hands on her hips. Even from the side view I could see she was mad as hell. Was it that kid’s mission to piss off every teacher here? And his mentor was Dragon? Okay, the guy looked nice, until he picked up a sword—uh, I mean foil—then he shifted from nice guy to deadly-dangerous-vampyre-warrior-guy.

So, if everyone here was picked because they had equestrian potential, what's Elliot doing here? I mean, for all I know, he grew up on a horse-ranch and is just zoning out because he's literally dying on his feet, but I highly doubt the Casts put that much thought into... anything, ever. Much more likely, the school realised if Zoey doesn't have something to loathe within eyeshot, her blood turns to shit and she explodes.

“That redheaded slug kid must have a death wish,” I told Persephone as I returned to her grooming. The mare twitched an ear back at me and blew through her nose.

Persephone: Greek goddess of both springtime and the dead, and often considered more fearsome than her husband Hades. Probably a better pick for a divine vampire patron than Nyx.

“Yep, I knew you’d agree. Wanta hear my theory about how my generation could single-handedly wipe out slugs and loser kids from America?” She seemed receptive, so I launched into my Don’t Procreate with Losers speech. . . .

It's a lot harder to be a wokescold today. These days, you have to pretend magic or future-science curing spinal injuries is eugenics. Meanwhile, here's Zoey, making a Hitler-speech to a fucking horse.

Stevie rocks up to remind her that they have Vampire Church tonight. I guess it's lucky the one stereotypical country trait Stevie lacks is Christianity.

About halfway to Nyx’s Temple I realized that Stevie Rae was being unusually quiet. I glanced sideways at her. Was she also looking pale? I got a creepy walk-over-your-grave feeling.

“Stevie Rae, is something wrong?”

“Yeah, well, it’s sad and kinda scary.”

“What is? The Full Moon Ritual?” My stomach started to hurt.

“No, you’ll like that—or at least you’ll like this one.” I knew she meant, versus the Dark Daughters’ ritual I had to go to afterward, but I didn’t want to talk about that. Stevie Rae’s next words made the whole issue of the Dark Daughters seem like a small, secondary problem. “A girl died last hour.”

“What? How?”

“How they all die. She didn’t make the Change, and her body just . . .” Stevie Rae paused, shuddering. “It happened near the end of Tae Kwan Do class. She’d been coughing, like she was short of breath at the beginning of our warmup exercises. I didn’t think anything of it. Or maybe I did, but I put it out of my mind.”

Stevie Rae gave me a small, sad smile and she looked ashamed of herself.

I'm surprised Zoey didn't start sparking and smoking trying to figure out why. It turns out the girl who died was Elizabeth No-Name, which I think we're meant to find shocking and sad even though she had like, two lines, one of which was just calling Erik Night hot.

“And everything’s going to go on like normal? Even though someone at the school just died?” I remembered that last year, when a group of sophomores from SIHS had been in a car accident one weekend and two of them had been killed, extra counselors had been called in to school on Monday and all the athletic events had been cancelled for that week.

“Everything goes on like normal. We’re supposed to get used to the idea that it might happen to anyone. You’ll see. Everyone will act like nothing happened, especially upperclassmen. It’s just third formers and good friends of Elizabeth, like her roommate, who will show any reaction at all. The third formers—that’s us—are supposed to act right and get over it. Elizabeth’s roommate and best friends will probably keep to themselves for a couple days, but then they’ll be expected to get it together.” She lowered her voice, “Truthfully, I don’t think the vamps think of any of us as real until we actually Change.”

I appreciate Stevie being bright enough to realise the adult vampires are actually sinister as fuck, but if they're really so casual about their students' mortality, why do they go to all the effort of these bougie tailored classes and shit? Why not just warehouse them for three years and feed them a specially tailored diet or something?

I thought about this. Neferet didn’t seem to treat me like I was temporary—she’d even said that it was an excellent sign that my Mark was colored in already, not that I was as confident as she seemed to be about my future. But I absolutely was not going to say anything that might sound as if Neferet was giving me special treatment. I didn’t want to be “the weird one.” I just wanted to be Stevie Rae’s friend and fit in with my new group.

Bullshit.

We rushed up the steps, and with Shaunee leading us, hurried into the temple. Sweet, smoky incense engulfed me as I entered the dark arched foyer of Nyx’s Temple. Automatically, I hesitated. Stevie Rae and Shaunee turned to me.

“It’s okay. There’s nothing to be nervous or scared about.” Stevie Rae met my eyes and added, “At least nothing in there.”

“The Full Moon Ritual is great. You’ll like it. Oh, when the vamp traces the pentagram on your forehead and says ‘blessed be’ all you have to do is say ‘blessed be’ back to her,” Shaunee explained. “Then follow us over to our place in the circle.” She smiled reassuringly at me and hurried ahead into the dimly lit interior room.

“Wait.” I grabbed Stevie Rae’s sleeve. “I don’t want to sound stupid, but isn’t a pentagram a sign of evil or something like that?”

I love how Zoey randomly flips between believing in-universe rumours and vampires and having known they were bullshit all along.

“That’s what I thought, too, until I got here. But all that evil stuff is bull that the People of Faith want you to believe so that . . . Heck,” she said with a shrug, “I’m not even sure why they’re so set on people—well, humans that is—believing that it’s an evil sign. The truth is that for like a zillion years the pentagram has stood for wisdom, protection, perfection. Good stuff like that. It’s just a five-pointed star. Four of the points stand for the elements. The fifth, the one that points up, stands for the spirit. That’s all it is. No boogieman there.”

You know, if they'd just made the People of Faith a specific Christian group, the Casts could've had some plausible deniability. They aren't calling all Christians jealous, stupid bigots, just extreme fundie types. Think how the X-Men have the Church of Humanity, but Nightcrawler is a devout Catholic. But no, they go out of their way to make sure you know the People of Faith represent all Christians--from Catholics to Baptists to Orthodox Greeks probably--everywhere. It's an amazing self-own.

“The People of Faith want to control everything, and part of that control is that everyone has to always believe exactly the same. That’s why they want people to think the pentagram is bad.” I shook my head in disgust. “Never mind. Come on. I’m readier than I thought I was. Let’s go in.”

Not like the vampires. They just control all media and claim legal ownership of all children with a certain genetic disease.

We walked deeper into the foyer and I heard running water. We passed a beautiful fountain, and then the entryway curved gently to the left. Within a thick, arched stone doorway stood a vampyre I didn’t recognize. She was dressed entirely in black—a long skirt and a silky, bell-sleeved blouse. The only decoration she had on was the silver embroidered goddess figure over her breast. Her hair was long and the color of wheat. Sapphire-colored spirals radiated from her crescent moon tattoo to down around her flawless face.

“That’s Anastasia. She teaches the Spells and Rituals class. She’s also Dragon’s wife,” Stevie Rae whispered quickly before she stepped up to the vampyre and respectfully placed her fist over her heart.

Marriage must be an interesting institution in a culture where everyone (at least according to the crap fandom wiki I checked) is sterile. Obviously, people who can't have kids get married all the time, and I don't think there's anything wrong with that, but someone has to think about these cultural implications, because the Casts certainly don't.

I took a deep breath and made a conscious decision to put all thoughts of Elizabeth and death and what-ifs out of my mind—at least during this ritual.

Given she barely existed in the narrative to begin with, probably not hand.

“Th-thank you,” I said, and hurried into the room. There were candles everywhere. Huge white ones suspended from the ceiling in iron chandeliers. Big candle trees held more of them and were lined along the walls. In the temple, sconces didn’t burn oil tamely in lanterns, like in the rest of the school. Here the sconces were real. I knew that this place used to be a People of Faith church dedicated to St. Augustine, but it looked like no church I’d ever seen before. Besides being lit only by candlelight, there were no pews. (And, by the way, I really dislike pews—could they be any more uncomfortable?) Actually, the only furniture in the big room was an antique wooden table situated in the center that was kinda like the one in the dining hall—only this one wasn’t just loaded with food and wine and such.

At least you get to sit down with pews.

This one also held a marble statue of the Goddess, arms upraised and looking a lot like the embroidered design the vamps wore.

I still bet that's a defaced statue of Mary.

Four forms seemed to materialize from within the darkened corners of the room to become women who made their way to four spots just within the living circle, like the directions on a compass. Two more entered from the doorway through which I’d just come. One was a tall man—well, scratch that—male vampyre (all of the adults were vamps), and, ohmygod, he was hot. Now, here was an excellent example of the stereotype of the gorgeous vamp guy, up close and personal. He was over six feet tall and looked like he belonged on the big screen.

Wow, all the vampires at this vampire religious meeting are vampires. Shocking. Again, the women all get these relatively detailed descriptions of their body-types and hair and shit, and all Zoey can muster for one of her love interests is "tall and looks like a movie star." Which could either mean "Vin Diesel" or "Danny DeVito after being stretched by Willy Wonka."

“And there is the only reason I’m taking that damn Poetry elective,” Shaunee whispered.

“I’m with you there, Twin,” Erin breathed dreamily.

“Who is he?” I asked Stevie Rae.

“Loren Blake, Vamp Poet Laureate. He’s the first male Poet Laureate in two hundred years. Literally,” she whispered. “And he’s only like twenty-something, and that’s in real years, not just in looks.”

For comparison, in the UK, there's been twenty-four poet laureates since the post was created. Six of them have been women. Not exactly parity, but we seem to doing a lot better than the oh-so-enlightened vampires. Also, naturally, despite vampiric poets having decades and centuries to hone their craft, the first dude to win the honour in two hundred years barely has pubes.

Before I could say anything else, he started to speak and my mouth was too busy flopping open at the sound of his voice for me to do anything but listen.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies . . .

As he spoke he moved slowly toward the circle. As if his voice was music, the woman who had entered the room with him began to sway, and then to dance gracefully around the outside of the living circle.

And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes . . .

The dancing woman had everyone’s attention. With a jolt I realized that it was Neferet. She was wearing a long silk dress that had tiny crystal beads sewn all over it, so that the candlelight caught each of her movements and made her shimmer like the star-filled night sky. Her movements seemed to call alive the words of the old poem (at least my mind was still working well enough that I recognized it as Lord Byron’s “She Walks in Beauty”).

Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

And like most "great poets" in stuff written by the creatively sterile, he mostly just quotes real-life poets who weren't superior vampires.

omehow both Neferet and Loren managed to end up in the center of the circle as he finished reciting the stanza. Then Neferet took a goblet from the table and lifted it, as if offering a drink to the circle.

“Welcome Nyx’s children to the Goddess’s celebration of the full moon!”

The adult vamps chorused, “Merry meet.”

Gay. Just... gay. Only word for it.

Neferet smiled and put the goblet back on the table and picked up a long white taper that was already lit and sitting in a single candlestick holder. Then she walked across the circle to face a vamp I didn’t know who was standing at what must be the head of the circle. The vamp saluted her, hand over breast, before turning around so that her back was to Neferet.

“Psst!” Stevie Rae whispered. “We all face each of the four directions as Neferet evokes the elements and casts Nyx’s circle. East and air come first.”

Then everyone, including me even though I was kinda slow, turned to face east. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Neferet raise her arms over her head as her voice rang against the stone walls of the temple.

“From the east I summon air and ask that you carry to this circle the gift of knowledge that our ritual will be filled with learning.”

The instant Neferet began speaking the invocation I felt the air change. It moved around me, ruffling my hair and filling my ears with the sound of wind sighing through leaves. I looked around, expecting to see that everyone else had been caught in a mini-whirlwind, but didn’t notice anyone else’s hair getting messed up. Weird.

I don't even need to tell you Zoey has all five elemental powers, do I? The weird thing is, I actually know of two separate "vampire high-school" stories that use the classical western elements (plus "spirit" natch) as the main kind of magic: this, and Vampire Academy, which we might take a peek at someday.

A lot of bad, lazy fantasy defaults to elemental stuff (not that there aren't really good stories that use it) but it feels especially weird for a vampire story. It's not like vampires are short on popularly ascribed powers. At least when Vampire the Masquerade started giving vampires random bullshit, it was because they'd used up all the traditional powers:

Gangrel: I command beasts, and can transform into animals and mist!

"No objections there."

Ventrue: I hypnotize mortals to do my evil bidding!

"Very traditional."

Giovanni: I fuck with ghosts a-spagetti.

"Not standard, but thematically appropriate."

Malkavian: I channel my mental illness to inflict madness on others!

"Okay, that one's a bit esoteric, but Dracula did have sway over mad-people."

Tzimisce: I warp flesh with but a touch.

"You just stole that from Necroscope!"

True Brujah: I time-travel!

"What the fuck!"

They proceed to go through all the elements, which Zoey of course responds to physically.

“This is the time of the fullness of the moon. All things wax and wane, even Nyx’s children, her vampyres. But on this night the powers of life, of magick, and of creation are at their brightest—as is our Goddess’s moon. This is the time of building . . . of doing.”

My heart was beating hard as I watched Neferet speak, and I realized with a little start that she was actually giving a sermon. This was a worship service, but the casting of the circle and Neferet’s words coupled to touch me like no other sermon had ever even begun to do. I glanced around. Maybe it was the setting. The room was misty with incense and magical in the flickering candlelight. Neferet was everything a High Priestess should be. Her beauty was a flame of its own, and her voice was a magic that held everyone’s attention. No one was slumped down in a pew sleeping or sneakily doing sudoku.

Probably because if they're seen to not be into it, the adult vampires will unleash their wrath.

could feel her words wash against my skin and close my throat. I shivered and the Mark on my forehead suddenly felt warm and tingly. Then the poet began to speak in his deep, powerful voice.

“This is a time for weaving the ethereal into being, of spinning the strands of space and time to bring forth Creation. For life is a circle as well as a mystery. Our Goddess understands this, as does her consort, Erebus.”

You know how some white people will say they couldn't be racist because they have a black friend, but the black friend is just a guy at work they say hi to? Erebus is the gender-relations equivalent of that.

As he spoke I felt better about Elizabeth’s death. Suddenly it didn’t seem so scary, so horrible. It seemed more like a part of the natural world, a world that we all had a place in.

And Elizabeth's place was to be Marked by Nyx, only for to be allowed to die a painful death months later. Worldbuilding is under no obligation to be just, but it would be nice for the authors to realise when they've recreated theodicy.

“Close your eyes, Children of Nyx,” Neferet said “and send a secret desire to your Goddess. Tonight, when the veil between the worlds is thin—when magic is afoot within the mundane—perhaps Nyx will grant your petitions and dust you with the gossamer mist of dreams fulfilled.”

Magic! They actually were praying for magic! Would it work—could it work? Was there really magic in this world? I remembered the way my spirit had been able to see words and how the Goddess had called me with her visible voice down into the crevasse and then kissed my forehead and changed my life forever. And how, just moments ago, I’d felt the power of Neferet’s calling of the elements. I hadn’t imagined it—I couldn’t have imagined it.

Because this is so much different than the chills people sometimes get at church, and praying for magic is so much different than praying for miracles or blessings. But yes, the vampires are actually capable of casting spells that work, and a lot of them have blatant Avatar powers on top of that. Yet unlike every other aspect of their existence, this is apparently a secret? Even though the Trackers blatantly use Obfuscate and can magically put tattoos on kids from a hundred pacers. The vampires could effortlessly prove their religion is true whenever they want, but choose not to.

I have no idea at this point why the Casts didn't just have the vampires be a secret-society. Just have Hot-Hagrid bust into the Heifer household, spirit Zoey away, and reveal all the famous people are secretly vampires. Have the tattoos only be visible with level one Auspex or something.

Neferet drank from the goblet she held, and then she offered it to Loren, who drank from it and said “blessed be.” Mirroring their actions, the four women moved quickly around the circle, allowing each person, fledgling and adult, to drink from a goblet. When it was my turn I was happy to see the familiar face of Penthesilea offer me a drink and a blessing. The wine was red and I expected it to be bitter, like the sip of my mom’s hidden Cabernet I tried once (and definitely did not like), but it wasn’t. It was sweet and spicy and it made my head feel even lighter.

Oh, come on. They don't even drink blood at their vampire ceremony? Is this a lousy reform Auctoritas Ritae?

“Tonight I want each of us to spend at least a moment or two alone in the light of the full moon. Let its light refresh you and help you to remember how extraordinary you are . . . or you are becoming.” She smiled at some of the fledglings, including me. “Bask in your uniqueness. Revel in your strength. We stand separate from the world because of our gifts. Never forget that, because you may be sure the world never will. Now let us close the circle and embrace the night.”

In reverse order, Neferet thanked each element and sent them away as each candle was blown out, and as she did so I felt a little twinge of sadness, like I was saying good-bye to friends. Then she completed the ritual by saying, “This rite is ended. Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again!”

The crowd echoed: “Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again!”

And that was it. My first ritual of the Goddess was over.

This is the lamest racial supremacist meeting I've ever been to, and that includes when I joined the Farms and you all insisted on being pleasant, normal people.

 

[Aloof Pessimism]

Marriage must be an interesting institution in a culture where everyone (at least according to the crap fandom wiki I checked) is sterile.

“Yep, I knew you’d agree. Wanta hear my theory about how my generation could single-handedly wipe out slugs and loser kids from America?” She seemed receptive, so I launched into my Don’t Procreate with Losers speech. . . .

So a sterile supermegasexy bitch tells a horse about the importance of not having children with unattractive losers...

Hoey is the solution to her own problem.

And I gotta rant about this - vampyres cannot reproduce. They cannot have babies and cannot spread their mutation by bites. Yet at the same time, they absolutely don't give a crap if the new fledglings die, either by rejecting the Change or by simply not making it to the House of Night in the first place. And they do not even consider to try to keep their existence a secret.

What sense does this make?

The moment humans discover a cure for the mutation - which they are trying to research - the vampyres will die out. And to top it off, vampyres operate out in the open. They are a known threat to humanity. How come humans didn't get fed up with being used like cattle by these beings? Why isn't there a rebellion against the vampyre overlords?

Where are the badass vampyre hunters?

I don't even need to tell you Zoey has all five elemental powers, do I?

Hi, Korra. Hoey's Mary Sue level just keeps rising! Why don't they falls to their knees, declare her the Chosen One, and worship her for eternity already?

Actually, despite her massive Mary Sueness, why does Hoey get treated like every other kid? Why does she have to attend the same classes? The book keeps establishing just how super special and unique she is, yet she gets completely ordinary treatment for the most part and gets thrown in the same classes as Elliot

 

[IridiumDragon06]

I dunno, I kind of like the horse bits. That definitely feels like the country girl peeking out a bit from under the hateful facade of popularity-seeking monster, to both unapologetically like something. Of course, that then needs to get turned into a super-exclusive club, because, I mean, look at where we are, but still, it's something.

Of course, Elliot the Chad has no time for equestrian bullshit; I feel like he probably asked the teacher if he can be excused to study for his driver's license exam or something similar. And it's notable that we don't get any context for his conflict with the teacher at all; the fact that Authority has a problem with him is enough reason for soulless synchophants to hate him all on its own.

---

I'd also like to register again my belief that the statement about vampirism being a mutation is clearly Cam propaganda. Mutations vary pretty significantly across population groups, and we haven't seen any sign of that yet. We've got outright magic being shown, which is a more-than-parsimonious explanation, and we know that even absent supernatural gribblies here in our world, the medical and scientific establishments will absolutely carry water for the rich, popular faction, much less the rich, popular, extra-murdery faction. No, I'm going with Lilith picking people in the world and forcing them to either choose to become soulless monsters consumed by hate, envy, and greed, or else slowly die. Come on, we got told it at the beginning. This is a vampire finishing school. Not a school where vampires go to; a school where people go to learn how to be vampires. And vampirism, just like every other bullshit social studies elective that is all about pleasing the Lilith-teacher, is graded on a curve. That's why there's the facade of healthy behavior and pretend-ass classes; they're the background for the monsters to prove themselves better monsters than the others, and for the weak to be proven weak.

And in that paradigm, that's why the vampires don't give a fuck about neophytes; there will always be more neophytes as long as Lilith remains free and active to curse the world, and as long as people remain willing to give up their soul in exchange for (a very small part of) the whole world, or even just for a frantic fever-dream of it, there will always be more vampires. The cattle will remain quiescent as long as they are given their bread and circuses, and given a fig-leaf of a lie to let them deny that they are ruled over by damned and demon-touched dead things, so why worry about them at all?

And the great part is that because this is a mindset borne of dead and sterile arrogance, it would be kept whether or not it was held by beings in this world, where all is just a backdrop to the vanity and ego of the main cast, or a real-er world, where the vampires would hold that belief until an actual religious revival swept the land, and all of the temples to Mammon and Lilith and Moloch that the vampires had erected started to burn.

---

And in a better setting, a deeper look at sterile immortals marrying would be very interesting. How much do vampires grow and change over the years? Are there provisions for vampire divorce, if a couple do grow and change and become very different people over the centuries? If vampires are sterile and can't get disease, is monogamy even a default expectation?

Zoey's mom hiding a bottle of wine also again makes me think that the Children of Faith are heavily Mormon-inspired, along with the Elder title being used prominently. And I feel like the aggressively-Midwestern nature of things here makes me feel like the Casts have probably bumped into areas where Mormonism holds local cultural dominance before, which might explain some of the specific venom we got about them. Hell, given some of the specific neuroses we've seen highlighted, I wouldn't be terribly surprised if Cast Sr. was ex-Mormon herself.

And...that was an interesting statement about the ritual, about all things waxing and waning. Do vampires actually wane enough to die of old age eventually? Actually, have we had any hints about any kind of afterlife? We're in a very muddled theological situation, since Lilith lays claim to a dozen religious traditions yet claims none of them to be actually true, so I don't think we have any actual hints from real-world theology.

Also, this may have been elided, but if I was writing something, and I was going to have a goddess declare that my main character's upbringing and history made them super-significant, I'd try to reinforce that a bit in the story. Have we seen Zoey notice anything in the ritual or the school traditions that tied back to her Pretendian heritage in the book so far? Because, I mean, it'd be hilariously on the nose if Zoey literally used her 1/32nd totally real tribal membership to get herself into college because the Great Teacher In the Sky approved of (the right kind of) diversity, and then completely ignored it thereafter.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

And...that was an interesting statement about the ritual, about all things waxing and waning. Do vampires actually wane enough to die of old age eventually?

From what I recall, vampires here are merely extremely long-lived, rather than truly immortal. They live for something like five hundred years I think? So, Shakespeare-the-vampire probably died of old age in 2001 or something, assuming the vampires aren't just Anti-Stradfordians. Of course, this still raises severe questions about the cultural scene of this world. As far as I can tell, the only vampire celebrities Zoey references are ones that were popular in our world when the books were published. Two issues. One, a lot of celebrities are the children of other celebrities, so vampire sterility should muss that up a fair bit. Two, imagine if actors today had to compete with the likes of Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant, still in their prime, and immune to OD?

 

[IridiumDragon06]

...imagine if actors today had to compete with the likes of Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant, still in their prime, and immune to OD?

Actually, that makes a kind of sense as a population control measure (and as something pleasing to Lilith); presumably, vampire celebs don't long outlive their real-life counterparts before they get their dead asses Tonya Harding'd by an up-and-coming vampire that wants to free up a little room at the top and help along the natural cycle of wax and wane a bit. You know, as part of their cultural traditions!

That's the great thing about vampires being celebrities; they're inherently self-limiting and in competition with each other, and ultimately, their power and influence is up to how much they please the public and Lilith, not any kind of skill or character they acquire over the years. Like, imagine hundreds-of-years-old vampire carpenters and masons who build grand, majestic monuments and temples to their demon goddess, instead of skinsuiting a religious academy. Vampires like that benefit from there being a lot more vampires who can work on an inherently cooperative projects, and it would take a gigantic supply of vampire builders before you'd saturate the potential market.

But you do get the skinsuiting, because vampires (and miserable little louses like Zoey) are inherently unproductive, and demand not an equal share in a grand vision of the world, but that the world recognize their inherent special awesomeness without them actually doing anything awesome.

Then again, I absolutely do buy that Lilith would take a look into Zoey's monologue and declare her Favored, and send her out into the world to spread her petty small-minded shallow viciousness backed by her infernal seal of approval, so the book is kind of working for me. Things are fucked-up, but they're fucked-up in an internally-consistent way, because the author apparently doesn't realize who she is writing, and how she is writing them.

 

[TheAmbiguousLurker]

Remember how Hogwarts was an actual interesting setting that was expanded upon and really felt like a legit location, with it's own character and secrets that made spending six and a half books there worth it? Remember how it's cast of teachers were mostly memorable, even the throwaway ones like Professor Bins had some measure of intrigue surrounding them when we're told he's a ghost who was so dedicated to his job he didn't even notice that he died and became a ghost? Yeah, none of that will be seen here and I don't see anyone remembering any of these teachers' names outside of the poetry guy because he'll be... Important later.

Dragon smiled. “Foil,” he corrected, “you’ll be learning how to use a foil. It’s the lightest weight of the three types of weapons we have here, and an excellent choice for women. Did you know that fencing is one of the very few sports where women and men can compete on entirely equal terms?”

Do you think he drops these random, useless preachy factoids to everyone? He's the asshole who corrects people for using the term 'literally' isn't he?

He snorted. “Next time smile at him.”

You know this book is dated when telling a woman to smile isn't considered offensive.

Intro to Equestrian Studies was held in the Field House. It was a long, low brick building over by the south wall, attached to a huge indoor riding arena. The whole place had that sawdusty, horsey smell that mixed with leather to form something that was pleasant, even though you know that part of the “pleasant” scent was poopie—horse poopie.

Jesus christ, you're a fucking teenager; stop saying 'poopie', it's fucking weird.

I stood nervously with a small group of kids just inside the corral where a tall, stern-faced upperclassman had directed us to wait. There were only about ten of us, and we were all third formers. Oh, (great) that annoying redheaded Elliott kid was slouching against the wall kicking at the sawdust floor. He raised enough dust to make the girl standing closest to him sneeze. She threw him a dirty look and moved a few steps away. God, did he irritate everyone? And why couldn’t he use some product (or perhaps a comb) on that nappy hair?

"I have no context for what he's done, but how dare he exist in my general area and not be stunningly sexy! This calls for a rant about purging the lesser races."

“Good evening. I am Lenobia, and this,

-is Jackass!"

“That redheaded slug kid must have a death wish,” I told Persephone

No, no, he's just doing a Nosferatu run and wants to see how many masquerade points he can lose just fucking about.

I thought about this. Neferet didn’t seem to treat me like I was temporary—she’d even said that it was an excellent sign that my Mark was colored in already, not that I was as confident as she seemed to be about my future. But I absolutely was not going to say anything that might sound as if Neferet was giving me special treatment. I didn’t want to be “the weird one.” I just wanted to be Stevie Rae’s friend and fit in with my new group.

You know, this is one of the more subtle ways of foreshadowing Neferet being the villain, how her singling out Zoey and treating her in a way that goes directly against vampire culture.

“That’s what I thought, too, until I got here. But all that evil stuff is bull that the People of Faith want you to believe so that . . . Heck,” she said with a shrug, “I’m not even sure why they’re so set on people—well, humans that is—believing that it’s an evil sign. The truth is that for like a zillion years the pentagram has stood for wisdom, protection, perfection. Good stuff like that. It’s just a five-pointed star. Four of the points stand for the elements. The fifth, the one that points up, stands for the spirit. That’s all it is. No boogieman there.”

You know, most books go "No, it's not satanic, it's something else entirely." This book just flat out goes "Okay, it is satanic, but Satan's a MILF so it's okay."

“The People of Faith want to control everything, and part of that control is that everyone has to always believe exactly the same. That’s why they want people to think the pentagram is bad.” I shook my head in disgust. “Never mind. Come on. I’m readier than I thought I was. Let’s go in.”

She says on the way to the cult ritual.

As he spoke I felt better about Elizabeth’s death. Suddenly it didn’t seem so scary, so horrible. It seemed more like a part of the natural world, a world that we all had a place in.

"It's all apart of Gods plan." sounds like something a Person of Faith would say, Zoey...

Where are the badass vampyre hunters?

We're sleeping on the true story potential of the People of Faith turning out to be a Van Hellsing-funded Vampyre hunting organisation, with Zoey's dad leading the charge to get his daughter back from those damn dirty blood suckers.

 

[LoverofPi]

Oh, something I meant to ask in the last review. I don't know a lot about American geography, but isn't Connecticut (where Shaunee is from) closer to New York than Oklahoma? If so, shouldn't she have gone to a House of Night somewhere around there? It seems like it'd be pretty important to have those distributed pretty evenly among population centres, given that fledgelings will die if they aren't surrounded quickly by adult vamps.

CT is bordered by NY, and specifically New York City on the west and south. The idea that there's no vampire school in NYC in setting is absurd and I'd wonder why Shaunee got sent over 1000 miles away from home. Like legit what crime is she running from?