There is a remarkable power in an expensive suit.

Look, people will say things like "oh it's so totally worth it", or "you'll appreciate it once you wear it", but they completely forget the true power of an expensive tailored suit, especially if they've grown accustomed to wearing them all of the time. You see, the power doesn't lie in how good it feels, or how comfortable the fit or even how soft the fabric. The comfort is only a reminder of what you're wearing, and what that really is, is power.

Or to use another word: access, but access equals power and vice-versa, so it's all the same if you really examine it.

A well-fitted custom suit is a suit of armour that allows you to walk into the halls of power with the confidence that you belong there. It announces very loudly that you belong exactly where you decide you want to belong and puts any questions immediately to rest.

It would be the understatement of the year to say that Madame Vera knew exactly what she was doing when she had me fitted for the suit. It was almost as if she knew I was going to end up at the club.

"That's a lot of vampires..." I whispered to Beatrice. She just rolled her eyes.

"Follow me and try not to trip on anyone."

I reminded myself that the suit (and the shoes, I have so many good things to say about the shoes) was my protection. It was my only armour. I kept repeating that in my head as I followed Beatrice through the crowd of vampires.

I belong here. I belong here. I belong here.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea for Beatrice, and I was glad she was leading the way since people seemed more than happy to get out of the way for her. It was the most fucked up way of introducing me since they would see Beatrice first and there would be a flash of something like panic as if they were wondering if she was looking for them. That would quickly turn to relief and they would shuffle aside, glad to be not on her radar and then BAM! there I was, right in their pretty faces, an outsider, an interloper. An accident. But here's the thing: they would see me and then instantly see the suit and it was almost as if they then would see me again and there was a sense of questioning that maybe I was more than I appeared to be after all. The suit changed everything.

A part of me was freaking out, wondering why everyone seemed so intimidated by Beatrice, but a more sensible part of me was yelling at me to shut your filthy mouth! Don't ask any questions that can get us killed!

Beatrice looked back at me and smiled reassuringly, eyebrow raised questioningly. I nodded that I was okay and managed a hopeful grin. That was good enough for her and she continued leading the way without looking back at me again.

The entire upstairs area was part restaurant, part lounge. There was a huge open area with two and four-seater tables, and then there were the couches and coffee tables if anyone wanted to be a little more comfortable. All of the chairs were occupied, but there were still a few groups of people standing and talking the way friends do, which of course led to them blocking the main walkway. You know, just like how small groups of friends do at the club. Vampire or not, some human behaviours just don't go away.

There's something you have to understand about these vampires. Some of you are no doubt picturing a whole goth scene with heavily made-up and pale faces, like lots and lots of pale faces, and yes there were a few of those, but those weren't the vampires. The actual vampires, my fellow creatures of the night, apart from their intense blue eyes and overwhelming good looks, were impeccably dressed and discreetly rich in the way that only the extremely rich can be. They weren't cookie cutter vampires like you would find in the movies. There was the occasional vampire with some personal flair and style: a white suit on a short-haired Indian woman, a waistcoat and jeans wearing black dude; a goth looking white dude with a Nikki Sixx haircut and dressed in all black who on closer inspection actually was Nikki Sixx (and that explained a hell of a lot). You could actually look around the room at the balance of the different races and get a good idea of where all of the money in Toronto was, and a good chunk of that happened to be right there with me. But I guess my main point is that not all of the vampires were white, and none of them were obvious unless they were actually trying.

And yes: there were humans among the vampires. That's all I'm going to say about that for now.

I glanced down at the dance floor of humans fifty feet down below, and was almost mesmerized by the movement of people genuinely having a good time as they were caught up in the group think of dance. It wasn't packed tight, but had enough of a crowd that made dancing pleasurable and not an awkward thing. Nobody wanted to be the only one out on the dance floor after all. Of course, there were girls in glass cages hanging from the ceiling, only part of the experience to make sure you knew damn well you were in a special club and that you should be grateful to be there.

The thick glass that went from floor to ceiling all along the long balcony that overlooked the dance floor did an amazing job of keeping most of the thump-thump-thump isolated. This was probably the only area of the club where you could actually hear yourself speak or think, and for me it was a hell of a relief. I imagine the enhanced vampire hearing which I had gotten used to so quickly that I'd forgotten about it, had something to do with it. It was by design that we were isolated from the music.

Beatrice stopped walking and I almost walked into her back. I peered around her to see why she had stopped.

"Oh this is so fucked up," Beatrice said.

An extremely good looking man stood next to Harry. When I say good-looking, I mean like ridiculously good-looking to the point that his absolute confidence and perfect hair made me instantly want to punch him. There was only one word to describe his hair and it was "lustrous". Nobody had any business looking that perfect. It was like he had been ripped directly from a magazine advertisement with his slicked back hair, square jaw and pearly teeth, pretty much the quintessential vampire that made women everywhere instantly get all moist in their panties.

Of course, he was shirtless, and no I'm not going to describe him, so deal with it.

"If he starts to glitter, just kill me now," I said.

Beatrice just raised an amused eyebrow at me.

"Are you jealous of how his muscles glisten—"

"Oh please just kill me."

Harry spotted Beatrice and then me and the smile on his face was predatory and full of trouble for me.

"Beatrice! Bob. So glad you could make it," Harry bellowed. He indicated the hunka-hunka-burning-man-meat behind him. "I'd like you to meet Sebastien, the newest member of our family." He even said 'Sebastien' with the Spanish pronunciation so it was more pretentious and grating than I thought possible.

"At least his name is not Edward," I said. Neither Harry or Sebastien seemed to get the reference.

Harry beckoned for me to come over to him. When I hesitated, Beatrice gave me a not-too-gentle push so I stumbled towards Harry. I glared back at her, hurt by her traitorous actions, but she looked restless.

"Okay, bored now. Call me when you need someone killed or something," Beatrice said to Harry and stalked off into the crowd, leaving me alone with Harry and the glistening Sebastien.

I slowly turned to Harry who smiled magnanimously.

"Bob, we got off on the wrong foot—"

"You mean the foot that you shoved up my ass? That foot?"

Harry gave me a dangerous look and clapped me hard on the back.

"Remember what I told you about interrupting me Bobby?"

"Shutting the fuck up!" I said promptly, and then for added measure, to make sure he got that I got it: "Sir!"

"I've invited you here because Sebastien here also recently became a vampire, and tonight happens to be his invocation ceremony, where he officially becomes one of the family. I thought I would extend the courtesy to you as well, since you only so recently became a vampire yourself."

I glanced over at Sebastien, who was silently glaring at me. That sent any thoughts of congratulation out of my mouth, such an outward show of hostility. You'd think I'd slept with his sister or something. I looked back to Harry, curious about one tiny detail.

"When you say 'ceremony', this doesn't involve virgins and knives and shit, right?"

An older vampire in a white suit came up and whispered something to Harry. I grinned at Sebastien and he nodded and leaned over, a fake plastic smile on his perfect fucking punchable face.

"Excited?" I asked.

"I'm going to crush you," Sebastien whispered to me, still fake smiling at me.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been waiting for this moment for ten years. Ten. Fucking. Years. I'm sure as shit not going to share it with you."

"You'd better take it up with Harry then," I said. Wow, his teeth really were perfect. "He's really open to his plans being criticized."

"When this is over, you'd better run, you prat," Sebastien continued and it was obvious he thought he was intimidating.

I grinned happily, wild thoughts running through my head, and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Has anyone told you that you have a punchable face?"

"No-"

His face was really punchable. I must have gotten in three or four good punches before they dragged me off of him.

******** AUTHOR'S NOTE **********

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