by Kitty Thomas
I’d almost forgotten the deal I’d struck to save my sister. I wondered who might have worn this collar before me, and what might have happened to her. It seemed unlikely he let anyone go when he was finished. But my fate didn’t matter as long as he kept his word about Simone’s medicine.
Gabriel put the key back in the box. He hooked his finger into the collar and used it to pull me to my knees in front of him.
“If you knew I’d take the pills to your sister anyway and not harm her, would you still want to die?”
“Yes.”
“Yes. What?” The orange-red glow came to his eyes as he gritted the words out.
Oh. That was going to be an ongoing requirement. “Yes, Master.” I wondered if he considered granting my death wish.
“I’ve met many humans who thought they were tired of everything, but give them a jolt of pain or a true threat of death, and they’re begging and groveling for their lives. Yet, the only time you begged was for your sister.”
The dread settled in my chest. He was toying with me. He wasn’t going to let me out of our arrangement so easily. Beyond the momentary fascination with being so close to a real literal monster, all I could feel was indifference and that slow creeping pain of someone who has given up.
Everything feels harder in that place. Sleeping. Eating. Breathing. Just existing moment to moment feels like walking through a waist-deep sludge with no end to the journey in sight. I was so tired. So ready to give up. I couldn’t understand why Simone seemed to want to press forward through it all. What did she see in life? What made it worth the struggle to her when we were all going to die anyway?
Inevitably, at some point, someone sinister would wander off the beaten path and break past our defenses and security. When that happened, even if we fought them off, how would we make it through the rest of night? If we survived, how would we—with our limited means—afford to make the house secure again?
In the beginning, after our parents died, all I could feel was this constant humming fear that sounded like bees buzzing in my ears all the time. But there were no bees. Just me and the anxieties spinning through my mind. This went on for several nights until the crushing weight of the exhaustion of it all settled on me. Once it hit, I just couldn’t get it to lift.
I couldn’t motivate myself to want to keep going. Existence itself felt too difficult to contemplate. All I wanted to do was sleep and sleep, and so death seemed like the answer because I was sure it was nothing but sleep. The idea of never having to wake again, never having to get up and go through the constant stresses and fears, made me feel light for moments at a time until it had become a secret pressing obsession that I dared not let Simone discover.
She pulled me back, time and time again—never knowing she’d done it. Just her presence. Her need for me to be there for her. The fragile state of her existence—an existence she desperately wanted, while I was ungrateful. I saw life as a punishment. She saw it as a gift. I can’t express how deeply I wished I could wake up and see the world through the same eyes as Simone.
I looked up to find Gabriel studying me. He pushed the robe off my shoulders and looked at me, assessing his new acquisition. It didn’t make any difference what he did to me. I didn’t kneel there filled with some terror of what he might do, that he might hurt me or violate me in some way. I simply didn’t care. Let it come. Whatever it might be. And if I was lucky, he’d lose control of himself, and I would only be a memory in Simone’s head.
I was just a shell walking around. It hardly seemed to matter what happened to the shell. It seemed absurd that I could feel worse than I already did. And the experience in the dungeon only proved I was right. In fact, the dungeon had been better than this. In the beats between the whip coming down on me, I’d felt momentarily like I was actually alive.
I still wished Gabriel hadn’t intervened. He probably saw himself as my hero. Fuck that.
“Master?”
“Hmmm?” He circled my nipple with the pad of his thumb as if this were a normal thing to do.
“When this is over…in the morning, will you kill me?” It was outside the scope of our deal, but what would be different in the morning? Nothing…just the vague dread again as the clock ticked down to another endless night. I couldn’t do it again. This had to be the last time.
“I’ll think about it.”
Earlier in the dungeon hadn’t been an ideal way to go. Part of me believed that if Gabriel offered me death, he would give it to me as kindly as possible. It was the same part that trusted he might follow through on his side of our deal. Or maybe I wanted to believe that, rather than acknowledge how easily he could collect my sister and visit any torments he wanted upon both of us.
Nothing stopped him beyond his minor fascination with me and the knowledge that the only way to gain my compliance was through promising to help Simone.
He trailed a finger down my arm and raised my wrist to his mouth. He made a big show of letting the glow return to his eyes as his fangs descended. It was a challenge. But I didn’t recoil in horror or cry. I just didn’t care. And I couldn’t see how his fangs in my arm could be even a fraction as bad as what had happened underground with the other guy.
A sudden hiss of breath left me as he bit down and started to drink. The pain was short lived, dwarfed almost immediately by a distant sort of euphoria. I wondered if he thought something so shallow could draw me in and addict me to him—as if he could make me want to live. As if anyone had such an unlikely power.
He’d commented that I was delicious. That might just be monster bedroom talk. How was I to know? But I hoped it was true, that he would gorge on me, lose control, accidentally end it all now. But he stopped within seconds of starting. He ran his tongue over my wrist and the puncture marks sealed as if it had never happened.
“That’s it?”
“Disappointed?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that because I thought he might take it in a way I didn’t mean it. He was attractive in a viscerally sexual way—or at least that’s how I thought he might appear to others. I didn’t feel that anymore. The whole concept of sexual attraction had become a clinical observation of how other people were.
I couldn’t feel anything beyond the already fading memories of the sharp, bright pain in the dungeon. Everything was blunted. I doubted I could ever swoon over him, no matter how pretty his packaging. I could never yearn or long for him, and the loss of that ability left an empty pang in the pit of my stomach.
Gabriel went to a desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out a thin gold square. It looked like a compact a woman might carry to check her lipstick while out during the day. I still knelt next to the bed, not sure what he wanted me to do and not possessing the energy to rise off the ground.
He pressed the gold square into my hand. “It’s a countdown clock. It’s set and working. So you can keep up with how much longer you belong to me.”
I clicked it open and watched it ticking down. We were just under 997 hours. Had it only been three hours since all this began? How was I going to make it through so many more? Simone’s image came into my head. If I wanted out so badly, I had to do this one good thing to make amends for everything else, for abandoning her.
“Rest for a while. When you’re refreshed, you can come down to eat.”
Gabriel pulled back the blankets and tucked me in like a small child. Then he shut off the light and went downstairs.
Chapter Three: 994 hours until day
I’d only slept a few short hours. Exhaustion covered me like a heavy veil, clinging stubbornly, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep again for a while. This was my normal waking depletion, not a prelude to slumber.
I slipped the robe on and crossed to the glass door on the far end of the room. I’d never seen a glass door on a home before—and certainly not a private door attached to a bedroom. It seemed so insecure.
Most homes had one door and few windows which were shockingly small—reinforced with glass so thick you almost couldn�
��t see out—and thick, heavy metal bars.
This door was decadence, sitting adjacent to the world I knew, mocking it. The doorknob clicked in my hand, and I stepped onto a small balcony that overlooked the back side of the estate. The view at the back was unlike the front with its expansive driveway and well-lit entry.
Rolling hills stretched before me that seemed to march on for miles. I was sure this must all be Gabriel’s property. If there was a high fence or a gate anywhere, it stood well outside my view.
I considered climbing down the trellis and escaping, but there was no point. Something worse would get me, and Simone was counting on my word that her medicine would arrive in time. There was no will or motivation to leave. Everything about my existence was about someone else now.
I looked up and was taken in all at once by the multitude and brightness of the stars above me, the clearness of the night, the gentle breeze that swept through oblivious to everything.
The wind didn’t know this was hell.
A sudden irrational shame came over me that this was a new experience when it must be so mundane. Then that feeling morphed into anger.
Here Gabriel existed with his expansive windows and glass doors and rolling hills that seemed to spit at the idea of security, free to step out into the night at any time or just walk out his front door—while I remained a prisoner, never able to even observe the darkened sky in real time. I might have been surprised by the existence of stars had I not learned about them in school or seen them in recordings. But flashes on a screen were not the same as the live experience.
I could have stepped outside any night and stood like I did in this moment, but there was Simone to consider. If not for her, would I have stood in the darkness, taunting and cheating fate? Maybe.
Time churned on as I stood on the balcony. The weather would change. Clouds would come. Rains. Thunder and lightning. I felt excitement at the possibility of seeing a real night storm. But almost immediately, the feeling faded into the dull, deadened filter I’d been swimming in for so long I could no longer remember a time when things were different.
I went back inside and rummaged through the closet. The clothing was in all different sizes, like a boutique. Most of it was lingerie, but I’d determined I would go downstairs, and I had to wear something more than a robe. The contents of the closet seemed better than a bathrobe which could so easily be torn off.
I selected a black leather corset that seemed as if it had been constructed especially for me. When I got it on and fastened it all together, it lay over my skin like a gentle caress. No pinches or gaps, just a sleek, second skin. There were panties in a drawer, and I found a pair of black pants that didn’t look unwelcome with the corset. I didn’t bother with shoes. It wasn’t as if I was going anywhere, and Gabriel had that whole weird shoe thing with his floors. I slipped the small countdown clock into my pocket.
In the bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror and ran a brush through my hair. The gold glinted in the light at my throat. I saw now that it wasn’t a solid polished band, but had etchings all around that made it seem as if it were filled with glittering jewels instead of an unbroken piece of gold.
I didn’t search for cosmetics in the bathroom drawers. I’d never bothered, and unless Gabriel ordered it on penalty of Simone’s life, I didn’t intend to start now. It had always seemed like a way to advertise availability to the predators in the city. And all I’d ever wanted was to blend into the great noise and background, to be left in peace. I didn’t see the benefit of attracting a mate when the law wouldn’t protect me from him after dark.
I didn’t know what Gabriel wanted from me exactly besides blood and his fixation with “bringing me back to life” as if I were some badly cared for plant sitting in the corner of a grow house somewhere.
When I stepped into the hallway, I was surprised by how alive the house felt. It was filled to the brim with people—or whatever type of creature my captor was. I still couldn’t comprehend them. I recalled the stories I’d been raised with of gods who saved the people when night turned long. The myths told of a great war, and even the stars fought in it—which was nonsense. We weren’t a tribe of pre-scientific illiterates. And I couldn’t imagine that we had been when the stories were written, either.
But the story went that in the aftermath everything had changed, and night, instead of being a few hours at a time, stretched on and on. Nothing could grow in the ground. Everything was dying. The gods stepped in and used superior technologies and powers to create a world where things could grow inside large, lush glass domes, safe from the never-ending night. Only a few hardy varieties of tree and grass could adapt to so much darkness outside the domes, and each night the grass went dead and brown and the trees appeared gnarled and twisted and without life.
Nobody believed any of this past the age of six or seven. But what if it wasn’t just a story, and Gabriel had saved my species from dying out? If true, it was cruelty. It wasn’t as if I’d been given a world in which to thrive—only one to hide and struggle in and be afraid of.
If Gabriel and his kind had saved humanity, it was only to protect their food source.
A woman about my age—but much less clothed than me—giggled and dragged a man down the hallway toward another bedroom. He smiled as he passed, fangs visible, his eyes glowing that eerie orange-red like Gabriel’s had.
At the end of the hallway was an ornate staircase that led downstairs to the main portion of the house. I gripped the railing to steady myself and descended. The man at the bottom seemed to catch my scent on the air and looked up. It was the one who’d beaten me nearly to death in the dungeon.
Before I could decide how to react, he inclined his head as if I were visiting royalty and turned back to his conversation. When I reached the ground level, he stepped aside to let me pass. In that moment it seemed impossible he’d ever raised a hand to harm me.
On the main level were dozens of men in suits and women in formal gowns who exuded a sense of entitlement as if the world belonged entirely to them. And perhaps it did. Juxtaposed against that were scantily dressed women in collars and black lingerie and a spattering of men who seemed even less dressed. I stood out in all of that, someone who wasn’t an invited guest, but who was decidedly less naked than the group I was intended to be a part of.
I slipped past clusters of people and ducked underneath the staircase behind a large potted plant. An overstuffed raspberry-colored chair hid behind the plant as if the house knew sometimes a person needed to get away. I sat, shielded from view of the others, trying to decide if I should go hide back upstairs.
But it seemed doubtful the party would ever die down. This was the environment I was stuck figuring out how to navigate until morning.
A couple of the nicely dressed women came to stand next to the plant, blocking my exit for a time.
“Did you hear? Gabriel took a girl for the night.”
“Yes. It’s so odd. I can’t remember the last time he collared someone. Usually he just samples all of them. Why do you think he chose her?”
The other woman shrugged. “I couldn’t begin to imagine the motivation behind what the royals do.”
“I heard Renard almost killed her in the dungeon. He said she had a death wish. She didn’t budge.”
“That’s foolishness. She budged or she’d be dead. Gabriel wouldn’t have bothered saving her otherwise.”
“That’s what everyone’s saying. Clarissa said Renard told her directly. He said the girl made some sort of agreement with Gabriel to protect her sick sister. She wouldn’t have caved if she had no one to protect. That was Renard’s judgment, anyway.”
“How peculiar.”
They startled and silenced as they did curtsies that looked ridiculous in their gowns.
“Are you enjoying yourselves, ladies?” Gabriel’s voice was clearly recognizable.
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Have you fed? There are plenty of young, healthy men who’d be happy to nouri
sh and entertain you both. Or a couple of the girls could see to you if you prefer something more delicate and nuanced. A room in one of the cottages opened up if you’d like to take advantage of it.”
They made another fumbled attempt at a curtsy and scurried away together.
I’d held my breath from the moment Gabriel approached. I wondered how much of their conversation he’d picked up and was sure they wondered the same.
Through the thick foliage, I saw his nostrils flare. It was that not-quite-human behavior I was beginning to associate with his kind. He must have been aware of me, but he didn’t acknowledge my presence. Instead he turned and merged back into the pulse of the party.
I would have preferred him to pull me out from my hiding place, even if he humiliated me in front of everyone. At least I’d know what I was supposed to do now. I didn’t like the idea of a bunch of strangers speculating about me, talking about me as if I were a stray puppy someone had taken in on grounds of random fascination. I further didn’t like that the gold band at my throat identified me as the girl they were talking about so that I couldn’t even blend in a crowd and disappear.
I sat a while longer until my hunger overwhelmed my need to avoid whatever I’d signed on for. I slipped out from under the stairs and retraced steps from earlier in the night when I’d been led to the kitchen to call Simone.
There were no blood drinkers there, just a few other humans. A couple of girls, one totally nude and unbothered by that state, the other in lingerie. A shirtless man in a collar and a pair of light-colored pants sat at the table with a steaming bowl of stew. There was a pot still on the stove.
The guy looked up at me and pointed to his own collar. “You must belong to the king.”
The nude woman grabbed a robe, wrapped it around herself, and sat at the table with the other woman. All three of them looked at me expectantly.
The robed woman extended a hand. “I’m Simone.”
I’m sure I visibly flinched. Was she making a joke? Did they know that was my sister’s name? Knowing there was someone in this house with the same name as my sister horrified me and reminded me of what I was doing here—desperately hoping to appease Gabriel so he might not hurt her.
