Nothing

A young man and woman sit facing each other with a table between them. With his elbows resting on his knees and his clasped hands supporting his head, he looks at her with a quarked brow and tight lips as she stares intently at the chessboard. As her expression of concentration lifts, she takes the black queen with the white knight. Her smirk of victory signifies his defeat.

“Checkmate.”

He slouches back on the upholstered chair, exasperated. “How can I never see the elusive ‘Katharine maneuver’ every time we play?”

“You just have to be more focused, Michael. That is what the game of chess is all about: strategy and attention.” She resets the pieces as she continues to speak, her tone playful and facetious. “We could play something a little more simple, if you’d prefer. I think there are marbles in the playroom… or are you not coordinated enough?”

Just as she sets up the last few pawns, the other young men at the party begin to crowd around the foot of the stairs. They straighten their vests and coats, make sure their shirts are properly tucked in, and brush back the strands of hair that have fallen out of place. Michael stands up and says to himself in a hushed tone, “She’s coming down.”

Still sitting, she turns and sees the men gathering themselves like lions waiting to pounce on their prey. “Who? Elizabeth?” She observes how his eyebrows rise and a slight upward curl of his lips form a smile.

“Not just Elizabeth, Katie,” he pauses a moment as the smile widens, “the most beautiful woman in the world.” He slowly makes his way towards the group, adjusting his glasses and performing the same ritual as the other men.

“She may appear beautiful, Michael, but she’s just a pretty box with a bow and nothing inside.”

Katharine stands up when the men start applauding and commenting as Elizabeth comes down the stairs. Her golden hair glistens under the candlelight of the chandelier. She holds the fabric of her dress up just high enough to keep herself from tripping down the steps. As she nears the bottom, she holds out her hand just to have it mauled by the lips of adoring men, making her giggle coyly. The orchestra plays a lively tune in the dance hall before a wave of voices all ask her for a dance.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” her sweet voice calms the men. “I can’t see why I couldn’t dance with all of you.” They escort her to the dance hall, Michael trailing behind them all. Elizabeth begins to waltz around the floor, switching off partners as she chooses. The other girls at the party partner up with the men that she cast off.

Katharine walks up to Michael and taps him on the shoulder. He waves his hand at her as his eyes stay focused on the radiant Elizabeth. She then leans up to whisper, “There is no line to dance with me.” She smiles, hoping that he would turn his attention to her, but he again gestures his hand for her to go away. She steps back and watches him as he moves closer to the front of the line, totally entranced. She returns to her chair in front of the chessboard and plays against herself as Michael’s turn to dance approaches.

Elizabeth curtsies to the next man in line, only to raise her head and find that man to be Michael. Her bright eyes and smile go dull with sternness as her forehead wrinkles and the corners of her mouth turn down. “What are you doing here?” Her voice, once like honey, is now dripping with disdain.

“Katharine invited me here.”

“Did she?” She looks over the crowd to where Katharine is sitting alone. “It’s like her to invite the uninvited.”

“I-I guess in your excitement about the party, you for- you forgot t-to invite me.” A hand reaches up and nervously adjusts his glasses again as he stutters out the words naively.

“Come with me.” She takes his hand and leads him out to the balcony off of the living room where Katharine sits, absorbing herself in chess.

When she closes the French doors behind them, he asks optimistically, “Did you get the poem I sent to you?”

“Yes, about that poem…” his eyes widen in confident anticipation, “who put you up to it? I mean, did you actually believe that I would even consider being interested in you? This ratty, handed-down suit tells me you have no money.” His breath staggers through his parted lips, his bottom lip quivering slightly. “And your ridiculous poem talking of oceans and flowers and the galaxy? How trite and pathetic!” Katharine hears raised voices outside and listens to find Elizabeth tearing Michael’s heart out of his chest with her tactless, caustic words. She takes the black king and lays it on its side, defeated again.

Michael burst through the doors back into the living room, his blue eyes even brighter as tears flow down his red cheeks, and faces Katharine. His mouth opens in a silent moan of agony as he runs out of the house. As he swerves up the worn dirt path, lined with roses and oak trees, a rose vine reaches out and the thorns slash his cheek. Carriages pass him, splashing mud on him, as he follows the main road into the city.

Stumbling on the cobblestones, he lurches into a dark alley. Her words burn into his mind and sear his heart as he leans on the cold, damp stone and slides to the ground, weeping bitterly. “You are beneath me. Your mother was a seamstress and your father worked in the mills. You won’t amount to anything more than they were. You are nothing.”

**Note from the Author**
I know this isn't much, but this is all that I have on the story so far without leaving one in the middle of a scene. Please R&R!

The vampire,
Aldys Annabel Clairveux