by K J Sutton
A short, bitter laugh escapes me. “It’s definitely not the life I thought I would be living, but it could be much worse, I guess. I’m lucky I work with humans like Nina and Drew.”
At this, Drew elbows his sister, still wearing that goofy grin of his. Damn, I could stare at it all day—his smile releases butterflies in my stomach every time I catch sight of it.
“What do you do?” I ask the dark-skinned boy now, who also looks to be about my age, maybe a little younger.
He flashes me a white-toothed grin. “I have the pleasure of handing out fines to citizens.”
Holden snorts. “Benjamin is a by-law officer in Wardthorpe.”
My brows lift at this. “The bounty hunters don’t take care of that?”
“Tell her, Ben,” Holden says.
He sighs. “The bounty hunters are all arrogant sons of—”
“Language, Benjamin,” Ada cuts in.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, then refocuses on me. “The bounty hunters only work for themselves. They like to think they openly defy the king’s rule, but I bet if it came down to it, they’d all cower to that heartless bastard just like everyone else.”
My heart gives a painful squeeze. He wasn’t always, I want to say.
“All right,” Drew chimes in. “We should get going.”
His eyes are on me, and it’s almost as if he can read my thoughts. He’s right, though—we need to get to the sewer sector.
“I think I left my jacket upstairs,” I tell him, pushing away from the table. I place my mug and silverware on my plate and stride toward the kitchen. It occurs to me that I should’ve said something to the other boarders before leaving, but it feels too late, now.
Behind me, I hear Drew picking up his dishes, too. “And I forgot to get my name on the shower schedule. As always, thanks for breakfast, Ada.”
She murmurs something back to him, her voice low, but the running water drowns out the words. I finish washing my dishes, stack them neatly in the rack, and hurry upstairs. I falter at the shower schedule when I notice there’s only one spot left for tomorrow.
“Are you about to steal my shower spot?” Drew asks. He comes up the rest of the stairs and walks toward me.
I give him a wide-eyed stare. “Who, me? I would never. Frankly, I’m hurt by the insinuation, Drew Hayes.”
His lips twitch as he steps closer, making my stomach dip. Slowly, he lifts his hand… and picks up the marker hanging on the wall behind me. He writes his name without taking his eyes off mine.
“Jacket,” I blurt suddenly. “I still need to get my jacket. Be right back.”
Before Drew can say a word, I rush down the hall, then close the door and lean against it. I breathe deeply, trying to slow my heart. The flirting with Drew is fun, I can’t deny that… but he’s human, and I’m not, so that’s the end of our story.
After a few more seconds, I grab my jacket and step back into the hallway. Drew is already heading toward the main floor. He pauses at the top of the stairs, a halo of moonlight around him as he turns back to me. “Better hurry up, or Bill will sell us to the Sunday auction,” he calls.
With Nina walking between us, creating a much-needed buffer, we leave the boarding house and head for the Public Works building.
Fighting off a yawn, I look toward the sky with drowsy, half-lidded eyes. A bird swoops into view, casting a shadow over us. Following it, my gaze falls on a homeless fairy sitting on the concrete. She smiles at me, and reveals that most of her teeth are missing. The ones that remain are yellow and chipped. Trying to hide the pity I feel for her, I muster a fleeting smile in return.
Then the Public Works building looms ahead.
Entering the sewer sector has become normal, somehow. My hands don’t shake as I pull my sword off the wall and secure it against my back. I don’t hesitate to pull on my coveralls and boots. And listening to Bill give out the assignments no longer makes me want to vomit in terror.
Once our master is finished, I walk with the crowd toward the elevators, and this time, when one of the other workers slides the door up, I don’t stand there and tremble. I get on without delay and stare straight ahead as we descend.
Once we’re in the dark, damp sewers I’ve slowly become accustomed to, Lucas and I break away from the team and head into our section.
“Nina told me that a lamp on the south wall is burnt out,” I tell him, and Lucas makes a note on his tablet so we can bring a replacement tomorrow.
“You seem more comfortable down here than before,” he observes, sliding it back into the pocket of his cargo pants. He uses his boot to clear some gunk away from one of the drains.
I think about it and say, “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“It took me a few weeks before I even spoke to anyone else, so you’re ahead of me there.”
“I think I got lucky,” I tell him. “A lot of people here have been kind to me. Especially given where I came from.”
“We don’t choose our family,” Lucas says, offering me a gap-toothed smile.
I’m surprised when my eyes prick with tears, and I quickly blink them away and clear my throat. “Yeah, you’re right. We don’t.”
With that, our conversation ends and we continue down the tunnel, clearing trash, dirt, and substances I choose not to identify. Nothing is out of the ordinary… until my ears pick up on a faint sound that doesn’t belong. I stop walking abruptly, turning my head. “Do you hear that?” I ask with a frown.
Lucas stops, too. His mouth is a thin, dark slash in his pale face. “Hear what?”
I creep farther down the tunnel with a drum for a heart. When I realize what I’m hearing, my eyes widen. “It’s crying,” I whisper to Lucas, my voice uneven. “Someone is crying.”
Without any word or warning, he bolts.
“Wait! Lucas!” I hiss. I hurry to follow the sound of his boots hitting the wet concrete floor. The high-pitched crying gets louder with every step, and Lucas’s terror is so potent that its stench fills the tunnel. Past my own roaring wave of panic, I fumble for the sword against my spine. I hold it out in front of me, gripping the hilt until my knuckles turn white. I can’t focus on anything but the fear and the adrenaline gushing through my veins. The shadows come at me from every angle.
As I strain to listen over the sound of my racing heart, the tunnels seem to start moving. Walls tilting, ceiling crumbling, path warping. Logically, I know it’s the panic, know that adrenaline is pumping through my veins. But even knowing something doesn’t mean you can accept it. I stumble through darkness and harsh light, breathing hard, waving my sword in front of me like a terrified child holding a wooden stick.
I know the weeper is nearby—the raspy sound it makes with every breath echoes in my ears. I force myself to slow, because I can’t run at the weeper without a plan. If I’ve learned anything from being a vampire, it’s that acting on impulse can get someone killed.
There’s a curve up ahead, and as I draw closer, I know I’ll find the weeper on the other side of it. Judging from the scent, this is the direction Lucas went. He probably had no idea he’d been running right into the arms of the weeper. I strain to hear any sounds from him—fighting, running, cursing—but there's nothing. No, not nothing, I think faintly, tiptoeing around the earthen bend. There’s a sound like… like…
Tearing.
On legs that don’t feel like mine, I step into the other tunnel.
Sensing me, the weeper immediately lifts its head. Its red-rimmed, yellowish eyes fix on me. But it doesn’t move, because it still has so much left to eat from the human it just killed. There’s a high-pitched, keening sound in my head as I lower my gaze to the body.
Despite their speed, weepers don’t gorge themselves any faster than humans or vampires. So there’s no question whether or not the body is Lucas’s—his dark lavender eyes stare upward, glassy, unseeing. His face is streaked with dirt and tears, and his mouth is partly open, as though he’d been surprised to die.
Silly Lucas, I thi
nk distantly, approaching the weeper on lead feet. Anyone can die.
The muscles in my body go tense as I position the sword. Beheading isn’t as easy as TV and movies make it seem, but if I use the full extent of my vampiric strength, it can be done. The weeper keeps chewing on a piece of Lucas’s skin, watching me curiously, almost like a kitten sitting there in the dirt instead of a rotting, ravenous corpse. I don’t let myself feel anything—it’s as though there’s a glass wall between me and my emotions, and I can hear them slapping at it with bare palms—as I gather my resolve and swing.
The sword whistles through the air. It’s a startlingly beautiful sound.
But then the weeper’s head goes rolling over the ground, and I forget the meaning of beauty. It feels like my skin tries to leap off and crawl away. The weeper’s mouth clacks, open and closed, as if even now it’s trying to consume. To kill. My arms are already hurting as I lower the stained blade.
There comes the sound of pounding feet and alarmed shouts—Lucas must’ve tried to call for help on his walkie-talkie. I stumble back until I hit the wall of the tunnel. The support is necessary, as I’m just a few seconds away from losing the battle to darkness. I can’t seem to take my eyes off the weeper, but there’s nothing inside me that’s tempted to look toward Lucas… or what remains of him.
I slide to the ground as the sound in my ears gets louder, crackling and fizzing like TV static. I sit there in the dirt, staring at the dead weeper. The stench is… indescribable. Such a foul, nauseating smell that I actually stop breathing through my nose.
Away. Need to get away.
I stumble to my feet as a wave of nausea crashes over me, and an instant later, my shoulder makes contact with a hard chest. When I start to shift away, Drew wraps his fingers around my upper arm as if to steady me, to hold me upright. His expression is grim.
“…is the third one this month,” one of the other workers is saying.
“Shut up,” Drew’s voice snaps. “You two, carry Lucas.”
I raise my head just as Nina rounds the corner. She slows at the sight before her, sucking in a sharp breath. Her jaw clenches. “Son of a bitch,” she says through her teeth.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “He just took off. The weeper got him before I could—”
“It’s not your fault,” Nina says tightly. She approaches Lucas’s still form, crouches to the ground, and pulls the tablet out of his pocket. She secures it to the utility belt around her waist and looks at me again. I watch her take note of the severed head and my abandoned sword, still stained with dark blood. “You killed the weeper?”
I nod again. Drew eases the sword out of my grip and slides it into place at my back. “Come on,” he says softly. “You’re done for today.”
I don’t argue with him. Instead, I let him lead me from the tunnels and back to ground level.
Once I’ve rinsed off and changed into my street clothes, Drew and I head in the direction of the exit. “Someone better tell Bill, in case he isn’t listening to the radios,” he mutters.
When I reluctantly raise my gaze toward that glass box, I jerk to a halt. Bill stands up there, as always, but this time he’s not alone. His back is pressed to the clear wall, all his attention focused on the vampire standing across from him. When I realize who, exactly, Bill is speaking to, my breathing becomes labored. I focus my hearing as Drew says my name.
“…or would you prefer I find another bloodsack to take your place? It can be arranged quite easily,” the vampire says in a low, controlled voice. A voice I heard often during my time at the mansion.
I must make a noise, or move in some way, because the vampire suddenly goes stiff. Quicker than even my eyes can track, he spins toward me, following my scent. His blue eyes meet mine through the glass. I know the instant he recognizes me, because I catch a glimpse of pure, inhuman revulsion before the vampire wipes his face clear of all emotion. An instant later, he’s standing on the catwalk.
“Charlotte,” he says from directly above me, his voice flat. This alone says more than he ever could with words—never have I been anything less than Princess Charlotte to him.
I give the prince a sad smile, looking at his blonde hair, golden eyes, and close-trimmed beard. Seeing the jawline which rarely slackens into a smile, and thinking only of my father, who could be his twin.
“Hello, Uncle Edward.”
Chapter Three
A thousand questions go off in my head, vibrant as firecrackers, but I clamp my mouth shut. Drew glances from me to the males in the observatory above us, his brow furrowed in confusion.
My uncle is an Elder—a vampire well over three hundred years old—and a conservative one, at that. He’s Alexander Travesty’s greatest supporter when it comes to ideologies of pure bloodlines and a divided society. So what the hell is he doing here?
He doesn’t give me an opportunity to ask. Between one second and the next, Edward is gone, the place where he’d been standing nothing but air.
Bill finally walks away from the window and appears at the top of the stairs. His smooth head shines like a lightbulb. He walks down and approaches Drew and me. “You,” he hisses, his fingers clamping down on my arm. “Come with me.”
We haven’t even had a chance to tell him about Lucas. “But—”
“Shut up,” he growls and starts walking. With a quick glance at Drew, I allow the pasty human to pull me away. We climb the metal stairs leading up to his office and, though I order my worried heart to calm, it still races when I try to figure out why this pinched-faced manager wants me. Am I being sold? Have I done something wrong?
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I say desperately. “The shift isn’t over yet. Did my uncle—”
Bill yanks at my arm so hard that I feel a flash of pain. Strong for a human, I think dimly. “Keep it moving, 2300761,” he snarls.
I narrow my eyes at the back of his head but remain silent—however much I resent it, he holds all the power, and there’s nothing I can do about that. Once we’re in his office, Bill flops into his faded chair and lets out a long sigh. “Fuck. This weeper shit is going to make me look like a moron at the quarterly meeting. I can’t have the royals stepping in. No, can’t have that.”
Bill exhales heavily. Clearly he’s talking more to himself than me, so I’m left standing there as he keeps mumbling and scratches the back of his neck. “That being said, if things get any worse, they will—Edward was just a warning. Good thing I’m bringing in reinforcements. The undertaker said he’s the best.”
I frown at Bill, and the thought of anyone else from the royal family coming here makes my stomach churn. “Okay. I still don’t know why I’m—”
Bill’s harsh laugh cuts me off. His gaze refocuses on me, overly bright. “Take your pick of reasons, 2300761. You’re the newest, which means you’re the most expendable. Being a Lavender, your odds of survival are higher, which helps my bottom line in the long run—I don’t have anything left in my budget this month to buy more workers at the auction. And if you do get killed, at least I won’t have some family writing me letters, begging for a body to bury.”
I shouldn’t be surprised this asshole couldn’t care less about my life, but his words sting nonetheless, making my jaw clench. Seeing this, Bill smiles tightly, but he loses interest in me a second later as his gaze shifts toward the warehouse floor. “Looks like your new partner is here.”
I’m standing very, very still, trying to silence the faint voice in my head, the monster’s naughty whisperings. You can kill this heartless prick. He’s human, weak. You can see it in his eyes. “My new—” I start, my voice tight.
“Good evening, princess,” someone says from behind.
I bite my tongue to keep from cursing aloud. That voice—I know without turning to see who it belongs to. The sound of footfalls getting closer makes me stiffen as I watch the color drain from my master’s face. Then Noah adds, completely ignoring Bill, “Or should I say Charlie? I heard that’s what you g
o by now. It’s cute.”
“I’d prefer you say nothing at all,” I mutter under my breath, knowing he’ll hear the words as clearly as if I’d shouted them.
Noah chuckles as he stops beside me. I force my gaze from the dirty cement floor and drag it up the length of him, annoyed by how my pulse jolts when our eyes meet.
“Aren’t I paying you by the hour?” Bill demands. As Noah’s shifts to him, a line deepens between the human’s thick eyebrows. “Cut the bullshit and focus—the two of you will be working together on this weeper shit. Dig up some information, figure out where they’re originating, find me something. 2300761, I want regular updates. No offense, Forrest, but I don’t trust anyone. At least a slave knows betrayal can land them on the wall.”
“That’s your issue, not mine,” Noah says dismissively. “I don’t need an inexperienced halfling getting in my way.”
Bill’s nostrils flare. But when he speaks, however bright the fury in his eyes, his tone is even. He’s scared of Noah, I realize. “You’ll both handle it. Together,” my master growls.
At this, Noah just looks at him. The silence feels sharp, as if the air is full of edges and knives. Beads of sweat dot Bill’s temple. All three of us can hear his heartbeat, slowly accelerating, like someone breaking into a paranoid run. I stay silent, mostly because I’m afraid of pissing off Bill—I don’t want to be one of those poor souls at the Sunday auction, standing on that wooden platform wearing a sign around my neck.
When I look back at Noah, wondering if he’s about to tear Bill’s head off, I’m startled to see he’s watching me instead. Another second passes, and I stare in Noah’s beautiful eyes, frowning at what I see in their depths. Something more than an arrogant bounty hunter.
“Fine,” Noah murmurs, watching me for one more instant before refocusing on Bill. “But if she’s damaged or killed, I won’t be held responsible. I want it in writing.”
Relief rushes through Bill’s veins. He sits in his chair, its wheels rolling across the floor, and fusses with his sleeves. “I’ll ask the legal department to send you something by tomorrow evening.”
