by Nix, Imogene
The sound of opening doors caught her attention. Hope had been looking through the titles on the bookshelves, running a finger along the spines, and feeling the reassurance of old leather beneath her touch, all the while taking in the scents of wood and lemon-infused beeswax, old paper and remembered cigar smoke. Memories of this room filled her mind. The hours spent poring over the titles she knew were housed here. Titles such as The Booke of Vampyre and The Bloode Promise resided next to The Diary of Anne Frank and Dune, and she could tell that the collection had expanded once again.
It seemed almost surreal, that many of the titles she had perused as a child still existed in this room. On some level she knew they weren’t the same books, for they had been lost in the manor when it burned to the ground, of course. Yet it was obvious that time and effort had gone into finding and replacing the titles with the same—a fact that continued to fill her with wonder.
The subtle creak of old hinges pulled her from the reverie, telling her that she was no longer alone. The frisson of power, though, would have done the same, and she shook slightly, feeling a pull as she turned.
In the doorway stood the most exquisite man she had ever seen. Piercing green eyes had captured hers before she looked beyond them to the planes of his face. Lean and olive-skinned, a slight shadow existed even though she could tell he’d recently shaved. She even detected the hint of aftershave.
He was tall. Very tall. She would hazard at least six foot four. Muscular. His well-fitted suit did nothing to hide the rippling muscles the material covered. He had a presence that captured her instantly. Her breath caught. The scent that filled the air called to something deep within her, and her insides quaked.
Dear Gods, if this was the Master, then she had a problem. The thought slammed into her. He moved with a determined stride, displaying his innate grace as both a man and a hunter.
He strode around the room, as if holding his inner predator at bay. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared as he watched her. All these things she saw in bare seconds, but time stood still for her, while she gazed upon him. Her stomach clenched and breathing shortened as a primal thrill sang through her veins.
“Master Xavier?” The words slipped out while her heart beat a rapid tattoo as he neared. The air in her lungs felt as if it had disappeared, and she knew she breathed heavily. Heard it and knew he did too, in the narrowing of his eyes.
“Yes. You would be Miss Hope? Please sit down.” He gestured towards a winged chair, and she noted his fingers, long and tapered. “We have important matters to discuss.”
Hope stumbled slightly, gaining the leather chair and gripping the wings, looking away briefly, seeking something as she battled to control her reaction to this man. Vampire, her mind screamed. Once more, Hope breathed in, expanding her chest and inhaling the deeply masculine scent of him that in turn made her pulse react again. Hope lowered herself, as if her legs were boneless, into the seat. She hadn’t felt this ungainly in many years, yet with him any sense of confidence frittered away.
Hope had considered herself quite reserved and contained until this man…this Master…had made himself known to her. Now she felt like the gawky child she had once been. Her mind thick and full of nonsense, or at least resembling no more than a jumbled mess, was unable to clutch and hold onto any thoughts without scattering. Hope twisted her fingers in her lap seeking something to bring her back to reality.
“You have settled into your suite, I take it?” He reclined in the chair opposite her, watching her intently, as she focused on him again.
“Yes, thank you, Master, I… All my items arrived safely and I plan to take the next few days to unpack everything.” He sat waiting and she ploughed on, even though she knew he wasn’t really interested in her packing or unpacking. After all, it was small talk, filling the quiet. Wasn’t it?
“However, I would like to ask permission to find employment…and perhaps to be situated in the city, perhaps in one of the nest apartments?” She stopped as his face tightened, and she felt a stab of apprehension at the change that overcame him.
The urbane sophisticate was replaced with an icy cold visage, and the deep green pools hardened before her shocked gaze. “No.”
Searching his face, she sat forward hoping she could somehow change his mind. Her own churned, looking for a way to explain her feelings and need. Hoping she could salvage the meeting and make him agree.
“But I have skills. I have my degree and I need to use it…” Surely, he would see that? But his face remained closed as the words died away, and a suffocating feeling filled her chest. The same one she had experienced several times since returning home.
“No.” His words were clear in the sudden silence. “You may find employment within the household, but you will not be allowed to move from the manor without the necessary guards.”
Inside her chest something shuddered and cracked before rebellion, hot and acidic, rose within her. “Look, all I want is a chance to find my future. I can continue to work to the greater good of the nest.” She gripped the plush velvet at the arms of the chair, and she leant farther forward. Seeking something, some crumb of understanding and, for now, uncaring of the possible danger of arguing with a Master vampire. “I am more than happy to move into the apartments where Lisi and her family reside, if that makes it easier. They are guarded there.” But the cold of his eyes only seemed to deepen, while her skin tightened and the pressure within her built.
Hope controlled herself with an effort and her words died away. She wanted to scream her frustration to this man who controlled her as effectively as her parents. The yearning in her chest filling her up, a lump formed in her throat and she struggled to swallow, and with burning eyes she accepted that she would find no ally. She wanted freedom. She wanted a life—her life. Not the world her brother David had, where he was happy to live at home with his bride, where his life was determined by hereditary roles.
The bands around her lungs constricted as she tried to explain her need one last time, even though she now knew the answer would remain negative, while the driving desire to be something more battered at her. But he watched in silence.
“I need to do something useful. I need to be able to leave these walls, and do things with people I choose to be with.”
His eyes were now shadowed, with gold ringing those green irises and she stopped. She had learnt very early on, the golden glaze meant a building anger. She had seen that before in Cressida’s eyes, the night she had come and saved her.
“Miss Hope, I will tell you this once. You are a member of the nest. I am your Master. It is for a good reason that I say no, for your protection and that of all your kind and mine.” The careful words cooled her fevered body, turning it to ice. “Now, I am not unkind and uncaring. I can understand your need and may be able to find you some employment utilising your skills…within one of our companies. However, you will reside here until such time as I see fit.” He stopped and Hope had the uncanny feeling that he waited for an outburst, but she was spent—exhausted by the brief, but impassioned outburst.
“You are also forbidden to make any attempts to seek employment either within, or outside the household, until I say otherwise.”
Gracefully, the Master rose and extended his hand, gesturing to the door while all she wanted was to shrink away, even as she accepted the implicit dismissal with a feeling of anger. The cold feeling that invaded her body left her feeling brittle. “I will see you tomorrow and I am sure I will have some further news.”
Hope swallowed her argument. There was nothing to be achieved right now. No matter how much she hated this truth and his words, the argument had been lost—for now, anyway.
A swift move and he had turned his back to her. She knew there was no choice but to leave his presence. Defeated, she stepped slowly across the plush carpeting, while she curled her fingers into claw-like talons. Her eyes burnt with frustrated tears and she blinked rapidly, holding them at bay while she stalked from the room.
Perhaps her brother was comfortable with his life and situation, but it would never be the one she would choose for herself. She stood beyond the door as it closed behind her. Shutting her out of any chance to make the decisions for herself.
The story of her life.
She waited with eyes closed for just a moment while she regained her composure, then opened her eyes. No one had seen her and for that she was thankful. Hope turned and headed towards the ornate staircase that would take her back to the floor where her suite awaited her.
Maybe it was time to think outside the box, she told herself, as she placed a foot on the tread. Maybe that was the key.
It was only when she arrived back in her suite that she realised she hadn’t taken her oath of fealty, but even so, for her there was no escaping. She would need to talk to him again, see him. Perhaps next time he would listen and understand. For once, though, she felt no assurance that any outcome, even marginally positive, was to be had and that thought brought her no comfort.
* * * *
Dawn came as it always did. Light spilt through windows covered with lace curtains, into a room heavy with dark wood antiques, the creeping warmth caressing her face as Hope woke. Dappled sunshine played over her body while she stretched and absorbed the heat from the brightening rays. Her eyes hurt, and she rubbed them, making them feel worse. The grittiness scratched between her eyelashes, irritating her further. Her head was pillowed on large cushions and she watched as the gloom of night receded. Hope could hear bird song in the bushes outside the window.
After returning home, it was difficult to reconcile to the silence that surrounded her and the entire house. The nest she had lived in while attending college had always seemed busy. Full of hustle and bustle as others moved about their business. Laughter and chatter had rang through the corridors, and the constant tap of feet on floors had beaten a tattoo.
Unlike here. Hope felt the cold emptiness keenly. The manor was stately and old, and so was the atmosphere—cloyingly so. Everyone spoke in whispers, and within her suite there was not a sound to be heard. Loneliness settled around her, choking her. This was not how she wanted to live her life. Surrounded by the trappings of position, but without anything to look forward to, except more of the same—a life of dismal servitude to the nest was all she had waiting for her.
Today was the first day she had nothing to do. How to fill the endless stretches of emptiness had not been an issue for such a long time. Classes, assessments and social outings had occupied her previously, but her new reality stretched out before her, as did the rest of her life. Empty. Painfully so.
She closed her eyes against the sudden burn of tears. What good was her degree if she wasn’t allowed to use it? What benefit did a person enjoy in being an adult, if she couldn’t make her own decisions about her life and how she chose to live it?
Rebellion warred with misery once more in her breast. She needed to find something to keep herself busy. The thought came swiftly and she racked her brains seeking something useful to do. No doubt Master Xavier would, in due time, come up with something he considered appropriate. She snorted inelegantly at the thought. As if he had any real interest in the day-to-day household routine. She settled herself. Now wasn’t the time to cause waves. She remembered the words of Jemima, her constant companion from years past—‘More flies are caught with honey than vinegar’.
Maybe she was supposed to grace his arm at a society function, or work with other nest children? Perhaps there was something she could do to show him? The thought tempted her, but she turned it away for now, reaching for the alarm on the bedside table.
Even as she reached, she remembered the quicksilver feeling of attraction, the way her heart had beat a little faster, and the mesmerising pull of his eyes. She snorted again. Like that meant anything, except she thought he looked good.
Disgusted with her thoughts, Hope rose, climbing out of the antique four-poster.
“Damn! It’s seven!” The words burst forth as she scrambled out of the deep covers.
No doubt her mother would be downstairs in the dining salon with her father and brother. Hope knew from experience that she would be expected to make an appearance, and soon, otherwise it would be one more thing she would be brought to task for.
Her jeans and T-shirt sat on the end of the bed, where she had thrown them the night before. Hope dressed carelessly, rushing to be on her way to the commitments that felt strangling to her. She slipped her feet into light sandals, while she scooped her hair into a rough ponytail.
Perhaps Hope might find out the plans for her future? There might be a slim chance her thoughts and needs would be included in the planning, not that she held out much hope, at this point. Her father, James, was the Master’s second, a human within the inner circle. The Master’s Yeux Secondes or second eyes. His role, the one who watched over the nest, was to ensure its security, both financially and legally in this modern world—something many Masters notoriously struggled with.
The problem with that was her father never knew exactly where the role within the nest and that of Father began and ended. Previously, it hadn’t really bothered her, but being away, experiencing other ways, had opened her eyes to new opportunities. The tightly closed circle of familial responsibility choked her again, and she had to stop on the landing, dragging in a cleansing breath.
Nests had an immense amount of power now with the acceptance they had achieved by the populace at large and the political associations they had groomed. There were legal protections, giving the Masters rights to make determinations of justice over their nests and, to some lesser degree, the nestlings within each family.
There remained some pockets of resistance—those who held to the religious hard line. They continued to label vampires as little more than abominations in the sight of God, and that went hand in hand with their belief that those who served them were expendable.
Those factions continued to categorise the vampires as little more than creatures of the devil, sent by him to destroy all that was good, and, as a result, each nest was vigilant in guarding their holdings. Naturally, this had encompassed the use of the witches, and those with the skills of warding, which she knew was the creation of magical barriers ensuring the safety of those within their confines.
In the early days, once they had made their presence known, whole families had been destroyed in fires and physical attacks. Over time, members had endured ostracism and ongoing vilification, on financial and legal entities owned and operated by them. Some nests had fallen, and members had endured harsh and unfair limitations as a result of their known interactions with vampires. Their homes had become sanctuaries from the continued and relentless abuses.
Many nestlings of more powerful families saw their position as a badge of honour. However, Hope couldn’t bring herself to feel the same level of satisfaction many had towards their social status.
It was a known fact that the annual requests for entries to the nests each year far outstripped the positions available, and it was rare for outsiders to be admitted, as each had limited resources. Many members came from families with years of service stretching over decades and some, as in the case of her family, centuries.
Added to that, few ever attained the position of changeling and vampire. The few that were agreed to by the Council were coveted, and every applicant carefully examined before decisions could be taken first by the house, then ratified by the Council members.
She sighed, hating the situation and depressed state of mind she found herself in as she continued down the hall lined with precious antiques and carpets. Everywhere, the scent of the heavy furniture oils and waxes permeated the air, and where previously she would have welcomed the scent, embracing the spirit of familiarity and comfort, now it smothered her. Her mind couldn’t free itself from the implied responsibilities and ties that wound tighter and tighter.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Hope brushed her hair back, took a deep breath and turned left. Sh
e headed for the dining salon at the end of the corridor where the heavy doors were closed, as expected. Hope reached a hand out to turn the door handle, when the sound of raised voices filtered through. The unexpected sounds held her still as the angry conversation flowed.
“She is to remain here. The Master was most clear about that.” She could hear her father, firm and satisfied, though muffled by the oak of the doors, and she waited to hear what more was said, even though her heart sank.
“She needs something to do. Otherwise she will dig. If she finds out, then not only she but the rest of the nest could be placed in danger too.” The anxiety in her brother’s voice concerned her—after all what did he know about her that she didn’t? “Your grandchild could be caught up in this, as well as Alexa.” The cadence changed, becoming angry. “If need be, we will move to the gated apartments so I can protect my family.” A loud sound, perhaps a chair being carelessly flung aside, resounded through the door, and she stepped back slightly. Her hair whipped around as she checked both sides, but no one saw her listening at the door. Hope heard steps and her heart rate increased, though thankfully they stopped and in that split second she made a decision. They couldn’t know that she had heard them. But where could she hide? Hope looked around, before the voices started again.
“Damn it, the Master said she must stay here. His word is law. You know that, David. I will discuss the possibility of moving to the apartments if need be, but it is done.”
Time to move. With that single thought, she willed her feet to move, touching the cold floor with only the balls of her feet, all the while hoping for silence.
The rattle of china clattered through the air, and she slipped back silently, finding the library door open and heading within before almost shutting it, so that just a crack remained open while she sheltered behind it.
A crash came from the direction of the parlour and she winced, realising there was an incredible amount of force in the action. The overwhelming feeling of relief flowed through her. Whoever it was, they hadn’t seen or detected her.
