Warning: Long chapter ahead.

Damn. It took me like, 2 days to complete this. And it's not even the end T__T

/le sigh/

Enjoy!

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"Do I really look good enough?" Hyomin asked Jaejoong nervously as they stood at the gates of the palace. She had taken ages getting ready for the evening and had been pretty pleased with the result. Putting on the blue dress had turned her from ordinary and shapeless to.... a girl with curves, with milky-white skin and long glossy curls. The color of the dress and a little mascara had placed out the brown in her eyes. Everything about her was just so ... feminine. Like a picture in a magazine. And it made Hyomin felt like she was floating just about herself.

Jaejoong’s eyes swept over her. If he hadn’t been the chivalrous boy he was, Hyomin got the feeling he would have given the low whistle her dad sometimes gave her mother when she bothered to dress up. Even in the half-lights she could see the glow in his cheeks.

“You really need to ask that?” he said with an impish smile.

Hyomin subtly ran her eyes over him. Out of his scruffy clothes, she realized he had the perfect slender physique for formal wear. A taut, lean body and cheekbones all the more prominent after a haircut. If she didn’t think of him as her weird-looking friend, Hyomin would have said he looked ... handsome. Like a male model. She dragged her eyes away, trying to appear like she didn’t noticed. But the truth was, they made a good couple. They went together. Their pale skin, their hair colour, their personalities ... Hyomin forced herself not to think like that. Opposites attract, she told herself. Opposites like her and Joon.

Jaejoong’s hand skimmed hers’ and he turned shyly back to the queue in front of us.

SeungAh was unhappy about something, judging from the tone of her voice.

“Let’s linger behind a little,” she huffed to Jonghun, picking up the hems of her long, charcoal velvet frock. “I want to wait until that motley crew go inside.” She gestured at a cluster of small, elfin-faced women, who were hissing at each other on the gravel driveway up to the palace.

“SeungAh ...” Jonghun shook his head. “We have this every year ... Just ignore them. They have long forgotten how to bewitch. Seungho has made sure that all sorcery books and implements have been destroyed. For many decades.” He sighed. “They are keeping up a pretence. It’s all they have left.”

SeungAh’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps.” But she glanced at Jaejoong and Hyomin, standing stiffly a few feet away. “Jaejoong, Hyomin,” she growled. “Stay with us. Don’t provoke them.”

Jaejoong nudged her elbow. “SeungAh is paranoid about the witches,” he whispered. “Of all the creatures on Nissilum, she fears them the most.”

Hyomin looked over at the huddle. One of the women broke free from the others and cast a shrewish glance at the four of them. She saw her eyes roam from SeungAh, to Jonghun, to Jaejoong and then to Hyomin. She rested her gaze on Hyomin’s dress, screwing up her sharp little face. “A stranger,” she said to her companions, her voice, piercingly high-pitched. “A pretty one.”

The others followed her faze, scrutinizing Hyomin rudely.

“Indeed,” said one. “A wolf-girl, too. Most unusual.”

“Outrageous,” muttered SeungAh, pulling Hyomin closely to her. “Dreadful creatures. Ignore them, dear.”

Hyomin smiled nervously, but before she had the chance to speak, the witch was beside them.

Jaejoong instinctively stepped forward to guard her. “Kota,” he said warningly. “She does you no harm.”

“Hmph.” Kota sniffed, a deep inhalation, as though gathering every scent of her. “I shall be the judge of that Hunter boy. She has been vetted, I hope?”

“There is no need for her to be vetted,” SeungAh said, coldly. “She is a wolf. Like myself, my husband and my son. Not that it is remotely your business.”

“Oh, come off your high stool, lady,” Kota sneered. “I have a right to know who walks in my path.”

“Indeed.” Jonghun bowed diplomatically. “And I hope we have eased your fears, Miss Kota. We wish you a good night.”

Kota pursed her lips, thwarted. “Very well.” She took a step back, rejoining her group in what seemed a millisecond.

“Silly little fool.” SeungAh lifted her chin and shut her eyes as though to regain good humour. When she had opened them again, a broad smile lit up her face. Her long, straight nose quivered a little. “Time to make our entrance, I think.”

She swept regally past the witches, with Jonghun, Jaejoong and Hyomin in her wake. Hyomin hung back, tugging Jaejoong’s arm to halt him.

“Are you sure they won’t detect I am mortal?” She whispered anxiously.

“I told you. Mint and bay leaf is an excellent foil against the smell of mortal blood. It is written in mythology here. Trust me.” She rubbed at her arms, hoping that ten minutes of rubbing leaves into her skin was enough.

 

The entrance to the palace shone with dazzling crystal-white tea lights, attached to a delicate gilt rope. The front of the palace was strikingly like the Palace of Versailles, white and glistening, but solid, like a wedding cake set in stone. Somehow the effect was not sugary or twee, but grand and charming at the same time.

Two sentries stood guard at the gates to the palace, letting guests through. Ahead of them, Hyomin saw a tall, dark haired couple. The woman, whose profile was in view, had skin the color of fresh snow, her thick brown hair hung loose chignon at her neck. Around her shoulders, she held a fur cape. Her partner, who looked strangely like a young, svelte Elvis, his hair combed into a quiff, wore a stylish take on a dinner suit. His white collar upturned, his jacket draped Teddy-boy style down his long body.

Jaejoong saw her staring at the two of them.

“Vampires,” he said in a low voice. “They are ridiculously glamorous, but be very careful. They look cool and civilized, but they are master manipulators.”

Hyomin shivered, hoping that what Jaejoong had said earlier was true and his blood antidote would work tonight. She suddenly felt vulnerable and Jaejoong intuitively took hold of her hand. “It will be all right. Just stick with me.”

Eventually they walked into the reception hall. Beneath her feet, marble tiles were polished to perfection, above her a network of snowdrop chandeliers cast light like fairy rain on the tops of their heads.

To the right stood an Amazonian woman dressed in a silver tulle gown. Her golden hair was piled elegantly as they passed her. She had startling emerald-green eyes and a small upturned nose. Apart from a few small lines around her eyes, she could have been anything from thirty-five to fifty. Her skin looked as though she had spent her whole life underneath a lace parasol, protected from the elements. She clasped her hands together, showing off a large jeweled ring that glinted powerfully.

“Gyuri.” Jaejoong’s tone was reverent and, as they came close, her eyes widened fondly at the sight of him

“How handsome you look,” she said quietly, straightening his jacket in a maternal gesture. “Dear Jaejoong.” Her eyes turned to regard Hyomin, standing awed beside him. “And who is this?” She raised an eyebrow at Jaejoong.

“This is Hyomin, Gyuri.” Jaejoong pulled Hyomin forward gently. She bobbed in an awkward little curtsey, feeling faintly ridiculous.

Gyuri laughed. “How charming,” she said as another group of guests nudged up behind them. “Excuse me ....” She turned graciously to greet them and Jaejoong and Hyomin continued on towards some grand double doors, through which servants bearing trays of drinks attended to the crowd inside.

“Hyung.” A familiar voice halted them.

Changmin, standing with a couple of angelic-looking boys his age, waved insouciantly. Whispering something to his companions, he left them and crossed the hall to them.

Jaejoong frowned. “Shouldn’t you be making yourself useful, Changmin? Not just hanging around.”

“I’ve done my fair share.” Changmin’s eyes slid over Hyomin’s dress. “Gracious, don’t you look a sweet sight, Hyomin?”

The faint derision in his tone made it difficult for Hyomin not to glare at him, but she managed a tight smile.

“Thank you.”

“To think we barely knew of your existence until now.” Changmin went on. “It seems impossible.” His gaze rested a little too long on her, though she stared unblinking back at him, willing Jaejoong to send him away. Or do something.

“Run along, Changmin,” said Jaejoong, taking her arm. “I’m sure the kitchen staffs are short of a pair of hands.”

“Oh didn’t I tell you,” Changmin said lightly, “Gyuri has given me special dispensation tonight ... to mingle ...” He paused. “As a guest.”

“She has?” Jaejoong looked surprised but smiled, pleased for his brother. “You’d better not let her down, then, I suppose.”

Changmin glanced back at his friends. “Don’t worry about us. We won’t embarrass you ... or your lovely companion.” With an infuriating smile, he drifted away.

Jaejoong shook his head. “I suppose I do worry about him. He is too ... what do you call it? Cocky?”

“Cocky is exactly the right word,” she said dryly.

Inside the great room – the ballroom – the noise was almost deafening. It was more than a hubbub of voices. It was a hissing, whispering nest of creatures. Hyomin was amazed at how distinct the assembled groups were.

There was Kota and her coven, chattering. Kota’s nervous energy gave her the appearance of an agitated little bird, sharp-nosed, her head darting this way and that.

In the corner, the vampires she had seen earlier stood coolly, observing others. The woman with the fur cape, held a small, painted, wooden fan in one hand, and Hyomin saw her whisper to Elvis as she waved it in front of her, pausing to seize a flute of what looked like champagne from one of the staff. Taking a long drink, she put her head back and hiccupped. Hyomin smiled. It made her seem more human at least.

And in the orchestra, seated on a curved stage by a huge stained-glass window looking over the grounds, was little Sunkyu, bent intently over her violin.

Sunkyu lifted her head and found them. Two small pink spots appeared in her cheeks and she lifted her bow in greeting.

“Sunkyu spends most of the evening bored as a snail,” said Jaejoong, waving back at his sister. “She cannot wait to make her entrance as a proper guest.”

Hyomin secretly envied her, observing safely from her place in the orchestra. If it weren’t for Jaejoong by her side, Hyomin would hardly say she felt at ease. The night opened out before her, unknown and forbidden. She looked almost longingly at the tray of glasses carried quickly past us by a waiter.

Jaejoong followed her gaze. “One sparkling grape juice won’t do any harm,” he said, stopping the waiter to take two glasses from him. “Though in large doses it’s said to have an hallucinogenic quality, so maybe go easy on it.” He handed her a glass.

Hyomin drank, to find the taste was like lemonade. Effervescent, but harmless – she hoped.

“I hesitate to break it to you,” Jaejoong murmured over the top of his glass, “but you are a source of interest already.”

“Really?” Hyomin looked subtly around her, her stomach clenching. As her eyes travelled around the room, they met a few curious stares, The vampires in particular, gawped brazenly at her dress.

“Come on,” said Jaejoong. “Let’s get this done with.” He took her arm and led her through parting guests to the imposing couple in the corner.

“Hello there,” purred the woman in the fur cape as she lowered her fan, smiling spectacularly at Jaejoong as they approached. “Rather rude of you to leave it so long for you to introduces to your companion. “ She extended one long arm towards her. “How delicious you are,” she said, her smoky eyes taking Hyomin all in. “Where on earth have you come from?”

Hyomin opened , but Jaejoong intervened by kissing her hand.

“Narsha, this is Hyomin. A distant southern cousin of mine.” He smiled in a relaxed fashion. “Hyomin, this is Narsha. And her husband SeonWoong.” He gestured at SeonWoong who was half turned away in pursuit of more grape juice. “They rule the vampire nests on Nissilum.”

“Not that we live in such a hovel,” said Narsha. “We have worked hard to enjoy a more luxurious existence. And it gives our lowers something to aspire to.” She blinked at Hyomin and she felt herself becoming almost swept up by her. Hyomin looked down at her glass, remembering Jaejoong’s warning.

“Heavenly dress,” she said, a tiny laugh escaping her lips. Hyomin’s mouth was frozen in a smile. “Very nice for one of your breed,” she told Jaejoong over her head, as though Hyomin wasn’t present.

Having secured his drink, SeonWoong stepped forward, towering over the rest of them. He held a flute of clear sparkling liquid in one gloved hand, extending the other towards Hyomin.

“Enchanted to meet this beautiful creature,” he said. Hyomin was fixated by his mouth, wide and red, though his skin puzzled her. Contrary to what she had expected, he had a healthy pallor and his eyes were a regular brown, not the black she had imagined.

Jaejoong nodded warily at him, then, glancing at Narsha, he cleared his throat, attempting more conversation. “Narsha and SeonWoong are Borgia vampires. A great dynasty.”

Narsha preened in a self-entitled kind of way, flicking her fan back and forth.

“We took the name from some mortal acquaintances of ours, hundreds of years back.” She looked dolefully at SeonWoong. “We had so much in common with them. Didn’t we, dear?”

“Exquisite country, too.” SeonWoong added, nostalgically. “Italy.” He directed a look at Hyomin. “Have you heard of it?”

Borgia? Nefarious Italian family ...Hyomin blinked and drew her hand out of SeonWoong’s extended grip, unsure whether it was a trick.

“I haven’t, no. Is it beautiful?”

“Very. And the good! Pity we couldn’t eat then.”

Jaejoong gave Hyomin a slight nudge, reminding her, if she didn’t already know, that ignorance was the best policy.

Narsha opened her purse and took out a small compact mirror and a lipstick. Oblivious to her audience, she retouched her lips, pouting at her reflection. SeonWoong was gazing adoringly at her, Hyomin noticed.

“Isn’t she something?” he murmured, then subtly looked Hyomin up and down. “Though I suspect she has a little competition tonight ...”

Hyomin looked up at Jaejoong to see unmistakable pride on his face and we exchanged a smile. Though she hardly felt comfortable, trapped with these imposing vampires, Hyomin allowed herself a small rush of pleasure.

Oblivious to any compliments except those directed to her, Narsha snapped her compact shut and replaced it in her purse. She linked her arm through Hyomin’s and her fur cape rubbed pleasingly against Hyomin’s bare skin.

“Would you like to see the ancestral gallery?” she said quietly into her ear. “All those fantastically puritanical Seraphim. Gruesome.”

“Why not?” Hyomin said, her head reeling a little. Was it the drink? Or was it Narsha?

“I’ll take her, Narsha.” Jaejoong smiled amiably but his tone was firm. He moved to break us apart, and slid his own arm through Hyomin’s.

Narsha’s face darkened for a second, but she recovered and smiled broadly. Her teeth were the whitest Hyomin had ever seen.

“As you wish,” she said, in a clipped kind of way, and raised her glass at SeonWoong. “I need more refreshment, darling.” She told him as he obediently took her glass.

Narsha turned to Hyomin and she felt Jaejoong’s grip on her tighten a little.

“We must catch up later,” she said, touching her cheek with her finger. Then, with a nod at SeonWoong, she clutched her fur closer around her shoulders and swept off with her beau.

“She’s incredible,” Hyomin breathed. “And I feel woozy.”

“Narsha has that effect.” Jaejoong’s expression was dry. “She’s a terrible flirt. But she certainly has an eye for beauty.” His eyes flickered shyly over her dress and inside Hyomin felt herself glowing.

“I can hardly believe this is happening. It’s all so very glamorous.”

“I can’t say I enjoy it usually.” Jaejoong pulled her gently in the direction of the great hall, and as they talked a clutch of witches stared imperiously at the two of them. “I’m normally stuck serving drinks to this lot,” he added in a half-whisper.

As the doorway to the great hall a white-haired man, dressed in a pale-blue and white tailcoat affair, bowed solemnly at them. Hyomin nodded in return.

“That’s Seunghyun,” Jaejoong said as they passed into the hall. “He and I tend to spend a lot of time together at the ball. He has a good sense of humor. For an angel.”

Hyomin laughed. “They are rather serious, aren’t they?”

“Goody two shoes,” Jaejoong said slowly. “Now that’s a mortal term I approve of heartily.”

“But the angels are supposed to be decent people?” She said. “Trustworthy.”

Jaejoong stopped and put his glass down on a marble-topped table with what looked like solid gold legs.

“I envy your regard for trust,” he said, and Hyomin thought how soft and kind his eyes looked. “As you can imagine, it is not prized amongst the population of Nissilum .... Well, apart from the angels. And as for the werewolves ... Well, animals don’t trust ... they survive.” Jaejoong’s face was serious. Sad.

He hates it, she thought. He hates not knowing how to trust.

“But you trust your family?” Hyomin said, wanting to smooth out the anxious creases in his forehead.

“Loyalty is slightly different perhaps.”

And what about me?Hyomin wanted to ask, but didn’t.

A flurry of waitresses appeared through a door in the hall. Dress in shades of pale pink, blue and yellow Regency-style dressed they were what could only be described as cherubic. Pale blonde curls, arranged Jane-Austen-style and the creamiest skin. Hyomin starred, enraptured.

“Very pretty,” said Jaejoong, as they carried their trays through to the ballroom. “In a sugary kind of way. Not really my thing.”

Hyomin grinned. “They’re like something out of a fairy tale. Little Bo Beeps.”

They watched as the last one disappeared through the door.

“So,” Hyomin said lightly. “Have you had any more ... pictures in your head?”

Jaejoong looked confused.

“You know, about Joon?” She held her breath, hoping the answer was no.

Jaejoong looked as though he was about to say something, but he hesitated.

“Do you mind if we don’t talk about Joon tonight? It’s just ... I’m quite enjoying having you to myself.”

He sounded so formal, yet so sweet, Hyomin pushed any more questions out of her head.

“Of course,” she said, relieved. “And me too. I mean –“

“I know what you mean.” He said, smiling. “Come on ... I’ll show you the gallery.”

He led her across the slippery marble floor, so polished and clear Hyomin could see the vibrant blue of her dress reflected so clearly as if it were a mirror. At the end of the hall was an ornate staircase, wide at the base, the gold-plated banisters curling prettily outwards. The steps were covered by an ivory-coloured velvet carpet. As the stairs wound round she saw a vast painting, gilt-framed, overlooking the ball.

“That’s Seungho,” Jaejoong said, nodding at the painting. “Captured in his prime.”

As they climbed up to it, Hyomin saw an astonishingly good-looking man. Dressed in a white robe, like a handsome red-haired Roman emperor, a delicate silver and gold crown lay amongst the curls of his head. His blue eyes were piercing, even from a few feet away.

“Fine-looking, isn’t he?” said Jaejoong, craning his head to get the full picture. “I must have seen this painting a thousand times, and every time I look at it, it makes my breath catch in my throat.”

“Where is he?” Hyomin whispered, for reasons she couldn’t fathom, except that she felt as though she was in a sacred church of some kind.

“Now?” Jaejoong glanced back at the hall, which was empty but echoing the sounds from inside the ballroom. A shriek of laughter cut through the hubbub. “I haven’t seen him all evening. There must be something going on that needs his attention.”

They continued up the ivory carpet, passing a glowing picture of Gyuri, smiling benevolently. The ultimate matriarch with emerald-green eyes, and a fine, heart-shaped face, she wore a necklace with a semi-circular silver pendant.

“Seungyeon,” said Jaejoong, nodding at a pretty delicate woman wearing a white cape. Though her hair was the lightest of brown, her eyelashes were dark, and two rosy spots on her cheeks gave her a more human quality. “Eldest daughter of Gyuri and Seungho. She’s away somewhere.” Jaejoong said vaguely. “Doing some good work.”

Next they passed Jiyoung, Seungyeon’s younger sister, Jaejoong said. Unlike the others she had a melancholic look about her, and her hair was a darker shade of brown, and her skin a little less youthful. Hyomin wondered where she was tonight ...

“What’s this?” She said as they climbed further, approaching a gilt frame with no picture, just a plaque beneath it wit the name Changsun written on it.

“Changsun. He’s what you’d call “in the dog house”.” Jaejoong turned to her, continuing in a low voice. “Remember we talked about him when you met my family for the first time?”

“He’s ... mad?”

“That’s what they say.” Jaejoong looked about them, checking to see if they were alone. “But nobody really knows for sure. He has always been a bit... volatile”

“So they’ve removed his portrait to teach him a lesson?”

“It’s a gesture,” Jaejoong said. “Gyuri needs to set an example, but she adores Changsun.”

Further up the staircase the next portrait was also missing. Not even a name. Hyomin looked questioning at Jaejoong.

“Changsun’s father, Jihoon,” he said. “Nobody knows exactly what has happened to him.” Jaejoong’s face have paled slightly.

“Sad,” Hyomin said, taking in Jaejoong’s sorrowful expression. He nodded, but moved to continue up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase was a large landing and another double-fronted door. Two white chairs sat either side. She glanced at Jaejoong.

“Seungho and Gyuri’s reception room,” he whispered, taking her hand and pulling her towards it. He knocked firmly, but there was no answer. They looked at each other. “Let me show you ... just for a moment. The view is spectacular.”

He gently opened the door and the light that flooded through the room was dazzling. The whole of the opposite wall was window, overlooking a midnight-blue sky, a nearly-full moon and the tops of cedar trees in the grounds.

A long wooden sideboard with rows of drawers underneath sat against one wall, while in the middle of the room was a large circular table covered in photographs. Hyomin moved towards it, her eyes sweeping over the images.

Family photographs. There was Gyuri with her daughters, one of her holding a baby, and a large one of Seungho and a boy of around thirteen or fourteen. To say he looked angelic was a huge understatement. The boy had medium-length brown hair and was dressed in a pale-blue robe of some kind. His hair looked damped and curled behind his ear, as though he had been swimming, little drops of water sat on his forehead. He looked serious, with his father’s arms loosely around his neck. Hyomin moved closer. Something about the boy held her attention.

“That’s Changsun,” said Jaejoong quietly. “He looks sweet, doesn’t he? But he was just starting to behave oddly ...”

Hyomin said nothing, continuing to stare at the image of the father and son. She couldn’t explain why she couldn’t take her eyes off it – but Changsun was captivating somehow. Shifting her gaze to Seungho, she saw that his eyes were the same colour and shape as his son’s.

“Where was his father?” Hyomin asked. “Jihoon?”

“Jihoon had just disappeared by then.” Jaejoong shook his head. “Changsun took it very hard.”

“Poor boy.” She frowned.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs startled them and Hyomin jerked, knocking the table. Something fell from behind the photograph of Seungho and Changsun.

“Quickly,” said Jaejoong. “We must leave.” He turned to the door. Hyomin glanced back at the thing on the floor. Another photograph, loose, which must have been tucked between one of the frames.

“Don’t worry about that,” Jaejoong said vaguely over his shoulder. “We shouldn’t really be in here.”

Even so, Hyomin snatched up the picture, meaning to put it back on the table, but as Jaejoong opened the door, Hyomin changed her mind, tucking it as fast as she could into the top of her sleeve, where it rasped against her skin.

She darted after Jaejoong and they stepped out on to the landing, a little breathless.

The footsteps were closer and a figure turned at the bottom of the final flight of stairs. A familiar silver tulle gown and a benign smile stood below them.

“Jaejoong,” said a soft voice. It was Gyuri, who held keys in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Again she looked fondly at Jaejoong.

“I was showing Hyomin the gallery,” he said nervously. “We came a little too far.” He took Hyomin’s hand again, reassuringly. And they went down to meet her where she stood.

Gyuri didn’t appear in the least bit suspicious. Instead she gave Hyomin what she realised was her trademark smile, full of warmth.

“Your mother must be very happy,” she said, looking from Hyomin to Jaejoong.”I hope you are enjoying yourselves? What a handsome pair you make.”

“Yes,” Jaejoong blushed. Hyomin took his arm, unsure whether it was protocol to curtsey to Gyuri every time they met.

Gyuri became her descent, Jaejoong and Hyomin behind her. But when she reached the empty portraits of her son and grandson, she paused. She reached out to Changsun’s and with a hesitant movement traced his name engraved on its plaque.

“I have failed, Jaejoong,” she said quietly. She turned to the both of them. “You remember Changsun? The two of you were close once ... As children.”

Hyomin shot a look at Jaejoong, who was silent.

Gyuri’s face darkened. “Little Changsun,” she murmured, “too spirited and sensitive.”

Hyomin subtly touched her sleeve, feeling the photograph still in place.

Gyuri shook her head, adjusting her décolletage with one hand, then lifting her skirts.

When they reached the bottom of the steps and rowdier sounds from the ballroom, she gave an audible sigh in front of them and retrieved her fan.

“Time for dancing ... and then the speech.” She said wryly. “I do hope the guests are behaving themselves.”

With that she swept elegantly through to the ballroom, leaving them lingering behind her.

“Can you dance?” Jaejoong said, his voice close behind Hyomin. She waited for him to put his hand on her waist, but instead he moved to take her arm again.

“I don’t know. But I will if you will.”

“Agreed,” he said, and as he pulled her closer to him, Hyomin felt a fluttering of happiness.

They walked through to the sound of lively violins playing some classical concerto. The orchestra was in full swing and people were dancing. She saw Narsha, her head thrown back with SeonWoong’s arm circling her waist and a cluster of female witches nearby, holding hands and turning in a circle, their tiny feline faces unsmiling but their movements expert.

“Everyone pretty much does their own thing,” Jaejoong told her with a grin. He took her arm and put one hand gently around her waist, pulling Hyomin closer to him. In his black tuxedo and white shirt, he looked like an old-time movie star. Classically handsome. His light brown eyes locked on to hers’ and he swung Hyomin round with surprising skill.

“Everyone is looking at you,” he said. “The belle of the ball.”

“Really?” Hyomin felt herself blushing. It was as if this was some incredible magic dream. Every girl’s dream. Holding Jaejoong’s gaze as they danced, her insides skipped with excitement. Pure, innocent pleasure. It was all right to feel like that, she told herself. Just for one night. It didn’t mean anything. She still had a boyfriend.

Finally Hyomin dragged her eyes away, concentrating on her footwork. Thankfully Jaejoong seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He moved in an assured, unselfconscious way.

“You really can dance,” Hyomin said, knowing she really couldn’t, but enjoying herself all the same.

“Had to learn,” Jaejoong replied, a little out of breath as he took her arms and she twirled, laughing and swung back to him. “You don’t?”

“It’s all part of the ritual humiliation of mortal life for a young person – not having a clue how to dance or talk to boys,” she told him.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said quickly, his eyes darted away as he spoke. Hyomin hid a smile, sidestepping an overeager man in a long dark-blue dinner jacket with a matching blue streak in his hair. The man, in his twenties, flashed her a toothy smile.

“Choi Seunghyun,” whispered Jaejoong. “Narsha’s son.”

“But she doesn’t look a day over thirty,” Hyomin said, slowing down. She stole another look at Seunghyun, whose dance partner studied Hyomin with narrowed eyes. “They look like brother and sister.”

“Narsha stopped ageing in her late-twenties, as most of them do. Vampires are so vain.” He pulled a face. “No pun intended.”

The music stopped and people drifted away from the dance floor to gather at the sides of the room, by the refreshment tables. A group of young, black-haired boys fuzzed a tomato-red concoction. Blood? Hyomin shuddered then, remembering that the people in this room could literally drain the life out of her, if they chose to.

“Do you think anyone suspects I’m mortal?” She said quietly to Jaejoong as they began wandering over to a vacant ottoman-style sofa by the door.

“Mortal?” Came a shrill voice next to her, and she froze. Kota appeared, her short red hair in disarray. Her slinky velvet dress clung to her sylphlike body. She swooned slightly, and Hyomin’’s heart beat slowed down. If she was drunk ...

“What are you talking about, Kota?” Jaejoong’s voice was light, but one of his hands found Hyomin’s and held on to it.

“She said something about a mortal.” Kota’s eyes gleamed. “Is there on here? In the palace?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jaejoong’s expression was puzzled. “You’ve had too much grape juice, Kota. You’re imagining things.”

Kota lifted her head and trained her almond-shaped eyes on Hyomin. “She said it.” She came closer to her and her nose twitched, as though she was sniffing Hyomin. “You have just appeared from nowhere, Miss ... Who are you?”

“I...” Hyomin began, glancing over to Jaejoong. “I’m Hyomin. A southern werewolf.” She kept her voice as steady as she could.

“Hmm.” She lingered closely for a second longer and Hyomin’s breath seemed to freeze in . She remembered what Jaejoong had said: witches can do you harm just by looking at you. Her eyes slid away from her.

“I have excellent hearing,” she told Jaejoong haughtily. “As you well know.”

“Of course,” he said, smiling very convincingly at her. “But the grapes can tamper with the senses, can’t they?”

Kota looked down at her glass, which was empty, and sniffed. “Possibly,” she said, her voice crackling. She shook her head in an eccentric motion. “When are they serving cake?” she said truculently. “Or do we have to endure one of those dreary speeches before they bring it out?”

Jaejoong’s lips twitched in a genuine smile then and Hyomin’s body relaxed.

The sound of metal clinking against glass drew everyone’s attention to the front of the room, where Gyuri stood patiently waiting for quiet.

“Having a nice time?” Narsha her lips uncomfortably close to her and Hyomin fought the instinct to jerk away from her. That would certainly give her away.

“Very nice, thank you,” Hyomin said politely, noticing for the first time a small diamond stud embedded in her dainty nose.

She smiled, lifting a finger as though to wipe an invisible tear from her eye. “i find these little get-togethers so touching.”

SeonWoong appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her willowy frame. “Such a softie, aren’t you, sweetest?” he said silkily. “Personally, these occasions simply make me hungry.” As Hyomin turned, she find him staring directly at her, and Hyomin coloured slightly. “No decent food, you see,” he went on. “Just a lot of drab offerings on trays.”

Hyomin smiled, terrified all of a sudden. SeonWoong and Narsha had arranged themselves so that they were hemming her in. Her eyes darted around to locate Jaejoong, but he stood the other side of Kota, who was muttering something into his ear.

The noise in the room disappeared then, as Gyuri finally called everyone to hush.

Hyomin stepped slowly backwards, but met a solid arm. She kept her eyes on Jaejoong, but he stared straight ahead as Gyuri spoke in a gentle but powerful voice to all of them. Realising there was no escape for now, Hyomin stayed put, only half listening to the speech, much more aware of the pounding of her heart. Hours seemed to pass until Gyuri finished talking, raising her glass to the guests. The orchestra began tuning up and Hyomin edged forward.

“Best stay put, darling,” Narsha bent to whisper to Hyomin. “Jaejoong is escorting that wretched Kota to the power room.”She smiled at her as Hyomin lifted her head to look at her. “SeonWoong and I will be your company until he returns.”

With a growing sense of panic, Hyomin watched Jaejoong half pulling, half carrying the reluctant Kota through the double doors, conscious of Narsha’s hand on her elbow.

“Come on Jaejoong,” Hyomin willed, training her eyes on the door. Instead of Jaejoong, Changmin appeared, following one of the serving girls as she collected empty plates and glasses.

“Changmin!” Hyomin called loudly, surprising herself.

He frowned, turning this way and that. To her relief, his eyes found her. For one awful moment Hyomin thought he was going to turn away and leave her in Narsha’s clutches, but he strode across the room, a facetious grin on his face.

“Oh dear. Has he abandoned you already?” he said, nodding curtly at the couple. “Let me get you some more to drink.” With a quick, forceful motion he took her hand and pulled her with him to the other side of the room.

“Thank you,” Hyomin said, recovering her breath after holding it for so long. “I thought I would never escape them.”

“It’s nothing.” Changmin glanced about him casually but his gaze came back to her. “But surely you know your own strength could have overwhelmed theirs ... if the need had arisen?”

“Yes, but ... I was off guard,” Hyomin improvised, flustered. “And they are quite overwhelming.”

“Interesting.” He whipped a glass of what looked like water from a small serving girl on her way to another group of guests. “You are  either very naive or you have good reason to fear the Borgias ...” He paused, his stare intensifying. “Which is it?”

Hyomin shook her head as though she hadn’t understood him. Inside, she realised that Changmin’s scrutinity was more alarming than the Borgias’.

Hyomin turned as subtly as she could to look at the vampires but they had vanished. She relaxed again.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” she told him. “I’m sure you have more interesting guests to talk to.”

“Not at all,” he said quietly. “None half as interesting as you.”

To Hyomin’s relief, Jaejoong appeared in the ballroom, looking around him, worried. Spotting Changmin and her, he hurried over to them.

“I’m so sorry to leave you. But I see you have been rescued.” He patted his brother on the arm. “Thank you, brother.”

“You should really keep an eye on Hyomin,” Changmin told him. “She is like a lamb to the slaughter in here.”

Jaejoong paled a little at that, but he kept his composure.

“Fresh air, I think,” he said turning to Hyomin. “It is getting stifling in here.” He took off his jacket and hooked i t over his arm.

Changmin grinned, his sharp white teeth fully exposed. “A room full of beasts,” he mocked. “What do you expect?”

Jaejoong rolled his eyes at his brother and tugged at Hyomin’s hand. “There is a beautiful garden at the back of the palace. A good place to sit away from the noise.” Brushing past a bemused-looking Changmin, they walked towards a large door near the stained-glass window, past the orchestra, where Sunkyu sat, yawning.

The music faded a little as the door shut behind them. The hall they were in was a mass of gilt-framed paintings and spectacular marble tiles, polished to perfection. She could never resist a polished floor, and Hyomin found herself twirling, gliding around, and picking up the hem of her dress like she hadn’t done since she was a little kid.

She almost forgot Jaejoong was with her until she stopped, feeling slightly dizzy and saw hi watching her with a grin.

“Sorry,” She said, hiccupping. “I don’t usually act like this. I guess it’s having to be so proper all night. It makes me want to misbehave a little.”

“I approve,” he said, still smiling at her. “I hope I get a chance to see you misbehave more often.”

“Do you now?” Hyomin said, swirling her skirts from side to side. “Don’t let the precious angels hear you say that or they’ll throw us out.”

“I wouldn’t mind that either,” he said. “We could go and misbehave in private somewhere.”

“Jaejoong!” Hyomin said in mock disapproval. “And you’ve been such a gentleman all night!”

“I didn’t mean ...” he said, flushing. “I meant ...”

Hyomin grinned at his discomfort. “So, are we going to see this secret garden or not?”

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To be continued in the next chapter :3