Annabella clicked the link to the electronic brochure with the grim dignity of someone opening their own tomb. The page loaded slowly, featuring a dramatic blood-red moon background and a soundtrack of faint, ominous pipe organ music. At the top, in a gothic font, it proclaimed:
Lord Vladimir's Elite Vampire Refresher Course—Reclaim Your Nocturnal Glory!
Beneath it, in smaller, almost apologetic text, was the tagline:
"Stop Being a Fail-fang and Become the Predator Your Ancestors Would Be Proud Of! (Probably!)"
Annabella snorted. "The 'probably' really sells it."
She took a deep breath she didn't need and braced herself for the curriculum designed to spike the blood pressure of any vampire, functional or otherwise.
Core Curriculum (Mandatory):
· "Intimidation 101: From Facial Expression Management to Mastering the Perfect 'Hiss'"
· Course Description: Tired of being offered lollipops by children? Learn how to make mortals tremble with a single glance (instead of giggle). Note: Not recommended for students with facial nerve necrosis exceeding 200 years.
· "Supernatural Physiology: Bat, Mist, and Your Weight Management"
· Course Description: Delve into the mysteries and bottlenecks of shape-shifting. Focus on practical solutions for getting stuck in vents mid-bat-transformation, failing to re-coalesce as mist, and avoiding emergency landings due to aerodynamic insufficiency (read: being too chonky).
· "Modern Hunting Studies: Gracefully... Acquiring Dinner in the Age of CCTV and Veganism"
· Course Description: Learn to use social media for target reconnaissance, master the art of loitering legally near blood donation vans, and appreciate the strategic value of food delivery apps as a backup pantry.
· "Ancient Hypnosis, Modern Applications: From 'Look Into My Eyes' to 'Hey, Can I Get Your WiFi Password?'"
· Course Description: Make your psychic powers work for you in the 21st century! Final exam: Successfully hypnotize a barista into making you a custom drink called 'Type-O, Light Foam, No Ice.'
Electives (Choose One to Cultivate a Special Talent):
· "Castle Property Management & Gothic Interior Design for Beginners"
· "How to Photobomb Human Selfies and Successfully Create a Paranormal Sighting"
· "100 Coffin Alternatives: From IKEA Wardrobes to Pod-Style Sleeping Capsules"
Annabella's eye twitched. "The '100 Coffin Alternatives' sounds kinda up my alley..."
Next was the faculty introduction. A photo of the Headmaster, Lord Vladimir, dominated the screen—a face so pale and sharply angled it looked like it could cut glass. Sunken eyes that resembled two black holes sucking out all the joy in the universe stared back at her, and his thin, pressed lips were a straight line of perpetual disappointment (especially in underachievers). The caption below read:
"Lord Vladimir, circa 700 BC. Former Transylvanian Aristocrat, Lifetime Honorary Member of the Shadow Parliament. Author of 'Elegant Violence: A Vampire's Guide to Self-Cultivation' and 'On the One Thousand Methods of Brewing Fear.' Teaching Style: Rigorous, Cutting, Unquestionable. Warning: Backtalk may result in immediate petrification (not a metaphor)."
Annabella felt a chill that had nothing to do with her body temperature. The Arctic seal blood was calling her name.
She scrolled frantically to the bottom, where the Student Code of Conduct was listed. Several bolded rules jumped out:
1. The possession, consumption, or intense longing for sacred silver, crosses, UV lamps, and/or allium sativum derivatives (including, but not limited to, garlic bread, garlic paste, garlic-infused ribs) is strictly forbidden. Violators will face… consequences.
2. The use of terms such as "so cute" or "must pet" in reference to humans or other fauna during class is prohibited.
3. Transforming your designated "prey" into a romantic interest or a regular lunch buddy without express permission is forbidden.
4. The final assessment will be graded personally by Lord Vladimir. His standards are impossibly high, and his word is final. You have been warned.
Annabella slammed her tablet shut and flung herself face-first onto the couch, emitting a long, drawn-out groan of pure, unadulterated fail-vampire despair.
"Facial expression management? My face hasn't moved since the Napoleonic Wars! Weight management? Who even sets the aviation standards for bats?! And Lord Vladimir looks like he personally mails failing students to the Arctic in a pine box!"
She grabbed a cushion and screamed into it, trying to muffle the sound of her impending doom.
Going meant probable social—and maybe physical—death.
Not going meant certain gustatory death,followed by physical freezing.
This wasn't a choice. This was being asked to pick her preferred method of execution!
She lay there, a boneless, dramatic puddle of a vampire, her mind racing with one desperate thought: Was it too late to fake her own final death via excessive garlic bread exposure?
---
(Chapter 2: End)