The Bloodletters

by Samantha Bell

  My father sounded nervous. That was an emotion I had never witnessed from him before in my life. Even during important meetings, and visits from the Royals. Never had I heard his voice shake like that before.

  I bit my lip. “Ok,” I said warily. I opened the door to see my father in his dinner jacket.

  There was a bead of sweat on his balding head. “Hello, Violet,” he greeted with a smile.

  “What did you need to speak to me about that couldn’t wait until dinner?” My voice was cool, indifferent. I couldn’t let him see me worry.

  “Well, you see,” my father said. “There won’t be any dinner tonight.” Two men appeared behind him. They were as wide as they were tall, dressed in suits. They looked at me with stoic expressions.

  I tilted my head to look up at them and took a step back. “What do you mean?” My relaxed facade was crumbling.

  The men shouldered past my father, each of them grabbing one of my arms.

  I pulled against them, but their strength overcame me easily. “I don’t understand!” I shrieked. “What’s going on?”

  My father’s nervousness transformed into contempt. “My dear, now that your mother has left us,” he chuckled. “Well, I don’t see the need to keep you around anymore.”

  I pulled against my captors. The skin on my arms was turning red and blotchy. “What?” My legs trembled beneath me. Of course, he would rid himself of the child he never loved. Seeing my face would only bring him pain and anger, he never wanted me as an heir. “Let me go!” I grunted. “You can’t do this; people will ask questions! You can’t kill me!”

  Lord Ackerman stepped back in surprise. “Kill you? No, my dear, I won’t be doing that. Your mother made me promise her on her deathbed that I would take care of you and take care of you I shall.” He snapped his fingers, and the men hauled me to a standing position again.

  “You could never be my heir. Charles will do a much better job at that. Seventeen long years I’ve waited to get rid of you. Finally, I’ll never have you see your mother’s betrayal again.” My father waved the men away.

  The men pulled me down the hall towards the servant’s entrance.

  “No, please!” I stammered. “You can’t do this. Father! I’m your daughter. I’m your blood!”

  Lord Ackerman looked over his shoulder. “I have no daughter.”

  One man grabbed me by my throat and squeezed.

  I gagged, seeing stars. I gasped for air and struggled. “I’ll never forgive you!” I spat at my father and then everything went black.

  TWO

  WHEN I WOKE UP, I WAS ON A TRAIN.

  I was sitting on a seat with my hands tied behind my back. With a glance around, I realized I was in a sleeper cabin and completely alone. I noticed my leather suitcase on the seat across from me. Last time I used it was during our family trip. I tried to loosen the ties around my wrists but the leather only bit into my skin. I groaned and pulled myself upright.

  Through the window, I could see that the sky was dark, and the moon hung full and heavy. Trees were flying past, glowing in the moonlight. We were somewhere out in the countryside and moving fast, based on sounds of steam being belched out of the engine.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  There was a moment of quiet and then the door of the cabin unlocked and slid open. One of the men from my kidnapping was standing there, as straight-faced as before.

  “Good, you’re here.” I put on my brisk, business-like tone. “Could you please untie me, sir?”

  The man frowned.

  “Please?” I continued. “You’ve proven that you’re stronger than me and it’s not like I am stupid enough to jump out of a moving train.”

  The man blinked. His jaw moved as he thought about my request. He took a step back and shut the door with a click.

  I let out an exhausted sigh. My stomach grumbled. Judging by the position of the moon in the sky, it had been hours since the incident with my father. I clenched my teeth. He would take care of me. What did that mean? What did he have planned for me in lieu of murdering me?

  My fingers tingled, and I flexed them to get the blood flowing again. What was I going to do? I couldn’t try to escape with my hands like this, and I doubted I could get away from the brute outside my door even if I was untied. I cursed myself for not taking self-defence lessons like my mother had suggested. The thought of an assassination or kidnapping hadn’t been a concern until tonight.

  I tapped my feet, trying to think of a solution when the door clicked again. I looked up to see a woman standing there. She looked to be in her thirties with ebony skin and kinky black hair. I gasped and then remembered my manners. Foreigners were a rare sight in Inwaed.

  “Good evening, Miss Ackerman.” The lady said. She took a seat across from me. She was dressed well, her green skirt fell to her calves and poked out just under the hem of her navy coat. Thin gold rings decorated her long fingers.

  I sat up straighter and found my polite, relaxed tone again. “Good evening.” I resisted the urge to fidget with my hands.

  “I must apologize for the accommodations.” The woman gestured to the train cabin. Based on the scratched wood and faded upholstery, we were in coach class.

  I forced an indifferent smile. “Not at all, Miss?”

  “Igwe. Heather Igwe, you can call me Heather.” The woman said.

  I motioned to extend my hand to her and winced, forgetting for a moment about my arms being tied.

  Heather gasped and stood, gently pulling me forward to see the bindings. She muttered something under her breath and produced a small knife from the pocket of her coat. She made short work of the leather straps and released my hands.

  I gasped with relief and rubbed my wrists. There were bruises where the bindings had been.

  Heather frowned, noting the bruises on my wrist and the ones that no doubt had bloomed on my throat. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “You were not supposed to be harmed.”

  “Bit late for that,” I muttered.

  There was a jolt as the train started to slow down. I looked out the window, catching glances of buildings I did not recognize.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  The woman tilted her head and looked out the window. “The last stop before reaching the Capital, I expect.”

  “The Capital?” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet. “Why are we going there?”

  Heather motioned for me to sit down.

  The giant man outside of the cabin peeked in and frowned at me.

  I glared back at him before sitting back down.

  Heather waited for the door to close before speaking. “Your father has entrusted me and my colleagues to ensure you have safe travel to the Capital.”

  “But the Capital is only for –”

  “Royals, yes, I know,” Heather said.

  I examined her closely. When dressed plainly, there wasn’t a clear way to tell a Royal from a commoner. In stories, writers claimed that their eyes were bright, their skin shone like the moon, and had the strength of ten men. I had only seen Royals in person once in all my life, shortly after my father’s election, and I knew the books were wrong. They looked the same as everyone else and that’s what made them so dangerous.

  Heather met my gaze. “In case you’re wondering, no, I’m not a Royal.”

  I looked away quickly, staring at the raw skin on my wrists. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. The severity of the situation was settling in as the shock melted away. My hands started to tremble. “Why would my father do this?” I breathed.

  Heather was silent.

  I choked back a sob and hunched over to hide my face from her. I had never shown weakness like this before. Even at my mother’s funeral, my tears were restrained and elegant. It was only when I was alone that I let my true emotions show. I was exhausted, hungry, and my forehead throbbed. I wanted to wake up, surely this had to be some terrible nightmare.

  The car lurched as the train came to a full stop. The whistle blew and th
ere was a bang as a door down the aisle opened. I could hear the murmur of patrons exiting the train and I wished I was among them.

  Heather sat as still as a statue.

  I quickly wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my dress before sitting up to face her. I set my jaw, realizing she looked at me without pity. “Why?”

  Heather opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a shrill whistle.

  A man’s voice echoed down the aisle. “Attention, attention. We will now depart for the Capital. Registration is required. Any passenger without proper documentation will be forced to leave at once.” Judging by the volume of his voice, the guard was only a few cabins from ours.

  I forced a laugh and shrugged. “Oh whoops, in all the excitement of being kidnapped I forgot my citizen card,” I said. “Guess we’ll be needing to get off here.”

  Heather shook her head in amusement. “Nice try, Miss Violet,” she said. “That’s not the registration they’re talking about.”

  A moment later, the door to our cabin slid open. The tall man was standing with another man in a navy blue uniform. He was portly, with a thick mustache and wary eyes. “Registration please.”

  Heather stood and nodded her head to him graciously. “Yes, sir.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small red folder. There was a black crest stamped on the front. She presented it to the guard with both hands. “I work for Madam Desjardins. Registered Blood House number fifty-three, under license and protection of the Bloodletting Regulation Act.”

  The guard took the folder from her with a snap. He flipped it open and scanned over the pages quickly. “She’s new, then?” He asked gruffly.

  “Yes, Madam Desjardins just signed for her last night,” Heather explained. “She will go for inspection upon our arrival in the Capital. As you can see, all the paperwork is in order.”

  The guard flipped through the pages again. “And you are Ms. Igwe, I presume?” He raised a bushy eyebrow at her.

  Heather nodded, flashing her citizen card.

  “Alright,” The guard sighed and handed the folder back to Heather.

  I only realized I had been holding my breath when the door closed behind him. I gasped and all of my hopes of getting off the train vanished. “Bloodletting?” I shrieked.

  Heather silenced me with a look, waiting for the guard to be far enough not to overhear. “Yes, Miss Violet.” Her calm expression infuriated me. “Bloodletting,” she repeated. “Your father has signed a contract with Madam Desjardins, who now has full custody of you.”

  I stammered, my lips trembling. “What do you mean? I’m seventeen, you can’t – he can’t sign my life away!”

  “A seventeen-year-old is a child in the eyes of the law. Therefore, your father has every right to do what he has done. Once you become a legal adult, then the contract will be revisited.” Heather’s eyes flashed a warning.

  I bit back my retort. I knew the laws as well as she did, probably better. I wouldn’t be a legal adult until my nineteenth birthday, and I didn’t like the idea of being in a contract with some strange woman for a year and a half. I clenched my fists, balling up the fabric on my lap.

  Heather sighed. “I’m not your enemy, Miss Violet,” she said in a softer voice. “I was in your shoes, not too long ago.” She gazed out the window. The train whistled as it began to pull out of the station.

  I watched her in silence. I observed her high cheekbones, her full lips and the way her hair bounced with the motion of the train. After a while, I spoke again. “What’s Bloodletting?”

  Heather cocked an eyebrow in my direction. “You don’t know?”

  I flushed. I hated admitting ignorance. “No,” I blurted. “At least, it’s never been mentioned in my studies or any of the books I’ve read.” The pity in the woman’s dark eyes made my cheeks blaze. No one had ever looked at me like that before.

  Heather hesitated. “I see,” she said finally. “I guess that’s to be expected. Few of the elite find their way to Madam Desjardins’ door, and never a Minister’s child.” She sighed. She shrugged off her coat and folded it neatly before settling back in her seat. “Well, while we have the time, I guess I’ll inform you.”

  My mouth went dry with anticipation.

  “Bloodletting is the act of giving your blood to a Royal for consumption. A Bloodletter is a person who gives their blood to the Royals.”

  I felt my throat close in terror. “Giving my blood?” In all my years of studying, I had never heard of these terms. I scanned my memories, trying to figure out where I could have missed it. The Royals had to drink blood to sustain themselves, that I knew, but it had never occurred to me where the blood would have come from. I shivered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Heather continued, ignoring my outburst. “It’s quite tame, I assure you. Not like the horror stories of the past. It’s well regulated, controlled and monitored for the safety of the Royals, and us,” she added.

  “You’re a Bloodletter?” I gasped. I quickly scanned her neck and arms for scars, some telltale sign of her violent lifestyle, but there were none.

  Heather smiled patiently. “Yes, I am. I am the house mentor, working under Madam Desjardins. It’s my job to retrieve the new members and educate them.”

  I looked away. “Oh,” I mumbled. I brushed the tender skin on my wrists, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare. My salvation never came.

  “You should rest,” Heather said. She stood and tucked her folded coat under her arm. She pulled the curtains and tied them closed. “We will reach the Capital by morning.”

  THREE

  MORNING CAME TOO SOON.

  After Heather left, I curled up onto my side and huddled in my seat. No one came to the cabin for the rest of the trip.

  The first light of dawn shone through the curtains. I rubbed my eyes. I felt exhausted but I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was how my father had betrayed me and how my life was now in the hands of Heather, Madam Desjardins, and the Royals.

  I hugged my knees to my chest, ignoring my growling stomach. I scanned my memory for any knowledge about Bloodletting but found none.

  In the past, hundreds of years ago, when our country was new, the Royals took control. Before Inwaed, the large island had been fought over by eight city-states, each trying to gain the most land and resources. When the tension reached its apex, all eight states engaged in a bloody war that lasted years. Finally, just when no end was in sight, the bravest, smartest, and strongest warriors from all the states joined together.

  There was a call for reform, and a singular government would lead all eight states. The city-states became provinces of Inwaed, with the Capital in the very center. Ministers would represent the provinces and would work with the Royals to ensure that Inwaed would be a safe, prosperous and peaceful country.

  The union of warriors became the Royals. The Royals were human but blessed with unbelievable strength, intelligence, beauty, and longevity. Legends said that the Gods, who craved peace for the citizens, had blessed them with these supernatural gifts. The common people of Inwaed came to fear them – for their power could only be sustained by drinking blood. The history book mentioned a mandatory blood tax that was abolished about a century before I was born. There was no mention of bloodletting.

  After my father’s election, Royals attended the ceremony and reception. I was only a small child, but I could remember wondering what was so special about them. Why did they have power over us? They looked no different from any other human I had met. When I voiced this question to my mother, she snapped at me to never say or think about it again. The Royals were our leaders, and that was that.

  I had lived with the question hovering in the back of my mind, and my studies and training offered no further explanation. I knew my place as a Minister’s daughter and that one day I would be a Minister myself. Only then would I be able to interact with the Royals frequently and maybe then I would see what was so special about them.

  My stomach growled
again. “Would it have killed them to give their prisoner a meal?” I sighed. My body was stiff, and my headache had only intensified. I held onto the seat and forced myself to stand and stretch.

  The train slowed down again. I walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. I couldn’t help but gasp.

  We were in the Capital. The train tracks ran straight, with only an iron fence dividing the speeding machine from the buildings. We were cutting through a residential district, with houses packed together tightly. I could see the taller buildings of the city in the distance. They stretched up into the sky, at least six stories.

  The cabin door slid open. I sat down quickly, embarrassed at my awe of the Capital. I had never seen it before, though my father went often.

  Heather smiled at me. “We’re here.”

  In the moments I was entrapped at the view, I had forgotten about my fate. Seeing Heather brought me back to the present, and I felt the dread take hold of my body again.

  “Five minutes until Afonyr.” The guard’s voice bellowed down the hall. “Last stop Brenhinyr, expected time of arrival eight-thirty.”

  I glanced back out the window. I summoned all of my strength to get through this and then I would make a plan to escape. I stood with all the grace expected of a Minister’s daughter. I let my diplomatic smile take over my face and turned to Heather. “Alright. I’m ready.”

  ∾

  Heather guided me from the train and her two giant cronies followed behind us with my suitcase in hand. Heather kept our arms linked together as we moved through the crowd of people at the station and I didn’t know if it were for my protection or to ensure I didn’t run.

  Whatever fantasies I may have harbored of running away quickly disappeared. There were too many people and I couldn’t tell who was a Royal or not. I had always believed that the Capital was for Royals only, but surely there couldn’t have been this many of them. I wondered what else my father had failed to include in my education.

  I found myself sticking close to Heather. There was a carriage waiting for us outside the station. The horses were impressively tall and well-groomed. The coachman was dressed in a black suit and matching hat. His shoes were polished to perfection. He said nothing as he opened the carriage door for us.