The Board Short Story Series:
Sanaa, the Human Consort
Dorothy Darrow
Copyright 2012 by Dorothy Darrow
Smashwords Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Written in the U.S.A.
"Vat do zjoo mean he's not vorkink today?" Costa's thick European accent screamed into the phone. "He hess to vork evera day!"
Costa slammed the receiver into the phone base. Sanaa was surprised he didn't crush the whole device with the force he used. He cursed in his native tongue. Sanaa pretended not to listen as she suppressed a laugh. She didn't normally enjoy seeing any of her bosses angry--with their superhuman strength, they could destroy anything they pleased to satiate their rage, including her--but Costa's cheeks were still red and puffy from the full meal he’d savored a couple of nights ago, and he looked like a bloated chipmunk.
Costa shot a glare at Sanaa. She flinched. She hoped he hadn’t heard that last thought. She knew better than to free-think in his presence. Costa could read her mind from a room away. All of the Board members could. Ambrose said it was their most precious gift from the Queen.
"Should I continue?" Sanaa asked, referring to the list of events she had been reading aloud before Costa received the upsetting phone call. Her boss stared straight into one of the fifteen computer monitors in his office. Sanaa took that as a yes. "June 15th," she read, "the Red Cross is hosting a benefit gala in Chicago and invited the entire Board. I thought it might be a conflict of interest." Costa didn’t reply. He was adrift in his thoughts. Sanaa watched him for a moment. The blue light from the screens flattened his features and turned his white skin and cascading gray hair the same color, making him appear even more inhuman than he actually was. Sanaa returned to the list. "The same night--"
"Do zjoo sink it vould be unvise for me to rrrrip out sumvun's throat for colink in sick?"
Sanaa froze. She wasn't sure whether Costa actually wanted her to answer or not.
"Zjo're probably right," he said. Sanaa had no idea what thought he had picked up, but she hoped he didn’t end up blaming her for a brutal killing. Costa continued to stare at the monitor.
Sanaa perused her list of messages from the dozens of people who had called that night wanting to speak to a member of the Board, which of course no one could. Any business had to be relayed through Sanaa or one of the other secretaries, and then the Board would discuss the most important issues before deciding whether to meet with anyone. But none of that mattered at the moment because Costa wasn't listening to her. She wondered if he would notice if she left.
Sanaa eyed the bundle of extension cords near her chair. She'd have to remember it was there when she got up. She had tripped over the friggun' thing way too many times. She wondered why Costa, with all his influence and sway, couldn't just find a power strip to use in one of the existing outlets in his office rather than pilfering electricity from the conference room. That cord bundle was a hazard, even if Sanaa was the only one in the entire building who ever tripped over it.
Without warning, Costa perked. "Zjo’re human," he announced to Sanaa as if he'd just realized the fact.
Sanaa touched the bite scar on her neck. "Yes, sir."
"Zjoo can consort for me today."
Sanaa's jaw dropped. She wanted to be a human consort for the Board more than she could articulate, but before she screamed out an enthusiastic "YES!", she had to confirm Costa was really assigning the job to her. His thick European accent tended to warp his words into phrases completely different from what he actually said.
"Sorry, what?" she asked.
"Zjoo've vanted to be a consort sense before zjoo started vorkink here, and sense Josh sinks explosive diarrhea or vatever he's complainink about vill keep him from performink his job, I'm goink to give it to zjoo. Not explosive diarrhea. His job."
Sanaa jumped out of her chair. She had never liked Josh anyway. "Yes, sir! Just say when and I’ll be there."
"I’ll meet zjoo in ze carr at vunn ‘o clock sharp. If zjo're late, I’ll keell you."
Sanaa was too excited to catch Costa’s last statement. "One 'o clock. I’ll be there." She dashed to the office door, her foot hooking the extension cord bundle. She slammed into the wall. Costa burst into laughter. Mortified, Sanaa ducked out of the office.
***
Sanaa was standing next to Costa's private town car at 12:45 PM. No one else had arrived yet. She was all alone in the underground parking garage. A trespassing wind brushed against the walls, generating an undulating whistle. About twenty feet away, a light flickered. Sanaa squeezed her quivering shoulders. Her eyes darted to each of the shadowy corners.
She shook herself to relax her tense muscles. She chuckled at her ridiculousness. She was on a first-name basis with the most dangerous creatures of the night, but an empty parking garage was creeping her out? The endless rows of fluorescent lights turned the car colors unnatural hues. The corners of Sanaa's mouth turned down as she cast an uncomfortable glance at the cement surrounding her. Entombing her.
Footsteps approached, echoing between the gray walls. Sanaa's head snapped to see who was there. Anton, Costa's personal driver. A human, Sanaa rarely saw him. The human drivers worked almost exclusively during daylight hours, whereas night hours had composed Sanaa’s entire work schedule up to that point.
"Where’s Josh?" Anton asked.
"Ill. I'm taking his place. I'm Sanaa." Sanaa reached out her hand to shake.
Anton ignored her hand. "Why are you here so early?"
"Costa said one sharp."
"And don’t expect him to get here a second earlier." Anton unlocked the car. He started it, turning the air conditioner on full blast.
Sanaa continued to wait outside the car. She eyed her watch. She tapped her foot relentlessly. She should have been tired considering she'd only gotten two hours of sleep between leaving the office at predawn and getting ready for her appointment with Costa, but she was hopped up on anticipation. Life as a human consort was full of fascinating duties, globetrotting, and correspondences with the most powerful vampires. Sanaa already knew she'd be much better at it than she ever was at filing papers.
1:00.
Costa didn't appear. A minute later, it was 1:01, but still no Costa. Sanaa's head whipped around, her wide eyes searching for her boss. The fear that he had stood her up bubbled in her chest. She wouldn't put it past Costa--the most Machiavellian Board member--to pull such a mean-spirited prank. Indignation crept into Sanaa's tight muscles.
The elevator closest to the car dinged. The doors opened and Costa stepped out. He walked straight to the car, wasting no time. Sanaa scrambled to open the back door for him. Without slowing, Costa zipped into the backseat. Sanaa slid in next to him.
Anton took off. The motion of the car slammed Sanaa's door shut. She checked the blackout curtains over the windows. She had to be certain no sunlight could enter the car when it emerged from the parking garage. Even though all the car windows were tinted black and treated with ultraviolet blocking chemicals, Costa was a creature of tradition, and he only trusted curtains.
"You said one sharp," Sanaa blurted out to Costa, knowing she shouldn't. "It's 1:02," she explained her comment.
"Not according to my vatch." Costa eyed Sanaa's clothes. “Is zat vat zjo're vearink?"
Sanaa smoothed the sleeves of her black wool pantsuit, the most professional outfit she owned. She thought she looked exceptionally nice. She frowned at Costa's critical expression. "Yes," she challenged.
Costa grinned. "Nice knowink zjoo."
Sanaa scowled as she forced the creases out of her pant legs. "Where are we going?"
"Philadelphia."
"We're going to drive all the way there?"
"Zjes. Sush is ze life of a consort. Havink second soughts?"
Sanaa straightened. "Not at all."
Costa released a nasal chuckle. Sanaa turned away from him. She stared at the black curtains, focusing on making sure they stayed closed, keeping her mind off her unwelcome anxiety. She didn't want to give Costa any reason to take away her golden opportunity.
Not surprisingly, as she concentrated on taking even, measured breaths to calm her nerves, she accidentally fell asleep. Sanaa didn't know how long she was out, but when Costa shook her awake, the window curtains were open and it was night. Anton had parked about a hundred meters from a seamy nightclub. Looking at the dingy walls covered in graffiti and the shiny, unblemished black door, Sanaa knew exactly what type of club it was.
"Ready?" Costa asked.
Sanaa heard doubt in his voice. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, making sure not to spoil her makeup. "Of course." She tried to sound as confident as possible, but ended up sounding cocky.
Costa shrugged. "Okay. Zjor mark is Angelic Fortifer. Uzjually, ve go over zis durink ze ride, but you ver out like ze non-livink dead. Incessant need for sleep is vun sing I do not miss from humanity. Perhaps, if zere is a next time, zjoo'll be able to stay avake.”
Sanaa could have punched herself. Sleeping on the job was not the impression she had hoped to make during her first outing as a consort.
"Angelic Fortifer," Costa continued. “At least zat's vat he colls himself now. He's a sird-generation, so zis shouldn’t be too difficult. He owns zat club. It's a popular Raver hideout and, to put it bluntly, it's overpopulated. Angelic vas supposed to stop lettink Ravers turn in his establishment, but he decided zat vasn’t ze most profitable route. Zis is his final check."
Sanaa nodded and waited for Costa to go on, but he seemed finished with his explanation. Sanaa had little clue as to what she was actually supposed to do, but she moved to open her door.
"Zjoo don’t know vat a check is, do zjoo?" Costa more stated than asked. From behind the solid partition that split the car, Anton chuckled.
"No, sir," Sanaa mumbled.
Costa sighed. "Are zjoo positive zjoo vant to do zis? Zere’s no shame in admittink lack of qualification.”
Sanaa rolled her shoulders back, straightening her spine and looking down her nose at her powerful boss. "I am absolutely ready."
Costa took a moment to consider Sanaa. She maintained her rigid carriage, burying her self-doubt from his penetrating eyes, desperately hoping Costa would allow her to prove that she could be a successful consort.
Costa relented. "Go in, find Angelic, see if he knows ze Ravers are still turnink in zere, and leave. Do zjoo understand?"
"Yes, sir." Sanaa grabbed her door handle.
"Ve’ll drive zjoo to ze entrance," Costa said. “It’ll look more legitimate.”
Sanaa yanked her hand away from the door. "Of course."
Anton started the car. He pulled toward the club. As they neared, Sanaa’s heart rate accelerated. She wasn’t scared. She was frightfully excited. Her second-most soul-encompassing dream was finally coming true.
"Zey’ll keell zjoo if zey find out zjoo vork for us,” Costa disclosed. The car stopped and Costa opened Sanaa's door. "Blend in."
####
About the Author
Dorothy Darrow is a writer from the United States. She has degrees in many creative pursuits, including writing. She likes to write supernatural fiction, such as vampire novels. That is all she wants you to know. For now.
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Look for the second novel in the Vampire Queen series, When the Moon Tires of the Night, a prequel to These Flowers Have a Taste for Blood that partly explains how the Queen's prophecy formed, out in late 2013.