by Logan Keys
“You do realize you’re not actually my brother, right?” I stare at him indignantly.
“Thank God for small favors,” he snorts. He turns his back to me and busies himself rearranging bar glasses. “Go home, Red. Now.”
I am frozen in place, my eyes wide in shock. There are a million things I want to say to this baffling, broken man but I can’t seem to find the words. I could tell him that I’m scared and weak and I have nowhere to go. Or that I, too, am dying and it’s partly his fault.
“Go to Hell, Brody,” is all I can manage. I snatch my bag off the bar and stumble toward the door.
I shove it open and it bangs shut behind me, muffling the music that blasts inside the club. The hour is late and the streets are mostly empty. Sirens echo in the distance and a cool breeze kicks up swirling the gauzy fabric of my dress around me. My mind dances with it and for a moment, I’m adrift, lost in an ancient sea of scars.
A white dress.
A broken promise.
Blood spattered on white lilies.
A cat hisses and glass shatters in a darkened alley down the block. I haven’t seen one of those little beasts in decades. Instinct takes over, guiding my movements as I rush toward the sound. My fangs burst free as I fly over the uneven concrete path and burst into the alley. My steps, though wavering and lethargic, have purpose. What they lack, however, is stealth. The malnourished tabby hears me coming and darts away, ducking beneath a nearby dumpster.
“Damn it!” I kick the metal refuse bin as hard as I can, hoping to scare him out. “Come out you little bastard.”
The heel of my shoe snaps off and I lose my balance. I spin in a circle and catch myself but not before my knees hit the ground. Frustrated, I tear the stilettos from my feet and throw them toward the feline’s hiding place in a last-ditch effort to scare up a meal. I’m met with silence. That cat is gone and so is the last of my hope. My shoulders slump and hot tears stain my face.
“Here kitty, kitty.” A deep voice. Laughter.
I turn just in time to see a metal baton swinging toward my head. It makes solid contact against my temple and my feet leave the ground. My arms and legs flail in slow motion as I hurtle through the air toward the dumpster. I thrust my hands out ahead of me desperately trying to alter my collision course, but it’s no use.
Though I manage to catch the lip of the container, my hands slip in the muck and my chest slams against the hard metal surface. A sickening crack echoes through the alley and my shattered ribs tear through my flesh. A tattered scrap of my dress hangs from my fractured sternum. I stare down at it horrified and fall to the ground in a heap.
My back hits the concrete first but my head isn’t long to follow. The sound of flesh and bone grinding on pavement echoes in my ears as a very large python hide shoe presses my cheek against the alley’s broken concrete surface.
“Hello, again.” Snakeskin smiles and presses his foot harder against my tender flesh. I hear a pop and my vision goes dark for a moment. He pokes at the wound on my chest with the end of his baton. “Wake up, little girl. I’m nowhere near done with you. Besides, there will be plenty of time for sleep when you’re dead.”
In my head, I’m roaring like a caged beast but the sound that escapes me is impotent and small. My body is broken and starved. I’m so close to death I’m tempted to let it take me, but something deep inside me refuses. I latch onto that pinprick of light and clasp it between my shaking hands. With my last ounce of strength, I reach out to a God I have long-since forsaken.
I’ve not spoken to Him since before I turned and I fear I’ve lost the poetry. Like an old song, the words come rushing back to me, the melody whispered on the late-night breeze. The pressure lifts from my skull and I am convinced that Death has finally come for me.
“You’re kidding, right?” Laughter fills the dark alleyway as Snakeskin squats down next to me. “You really think some imaginary magician in the sky is going to save you? Look around you. No one is coming. It’s just you,” he taps my nose, “and me. And I believe we have some unfinished business.”
“No.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“No is not an option, Kitten.” He leans over and runs his finger along my cheek. “Oden said I was to bring you in alive. He never said untouched.”
I urge my body to move, to push him away, but I have nothing left.
“You know what’s funny? If you hadn’t flashed fang back there on the transport, I would have never known it was you.” He shakes his head and drops a duffle bag on the ground next to me. “That hair should have been a dead giveaway, I suppose, but I figured it had to be a coincidence. I mean, what are the odds? My very first mission for Ourovoros and I end up on a transport with the very parasite Oden has had our people hunting for more than a century. Do you have any idea how many vamps we’ve killed looking for you? Damn near all of them, I’d wager.”
He’s trying to hurt me, but I feel no loss for my kind.
“Anyways, that’s the cost of doing business these days.” Metal clanks together as he reaches into his bag of tricks. “Forever don’t come cheap.”
His luminescent eyes darken as he fastens a set of silver cuffs around my wrists. A matching pair weighs down my ankles. He binds them together with a length of thick, silver chain. The metal burns my skin and drains the last of my waning strength.
I teeter on the brink of unconsciousness as he works. I press my eyes shut, trying to gather the strength to resist, but nothing comes. When I open my eyes again, he is buckling the straps of a leather muzzle behind my head. The thick hide is woven through a metal cage that surrounds my mouth and nose.
“Just in case,” he taps on the mask and winks at me. “A little birdie told me you’re a biter. We can’t have any of that now, can we?”
He stands over me and reaches for the buckle on his belt. I open my mouth to scream for help, but my throat is flooded and I start to gag. Thick, viscous fluid sprays from my mouth onto the pavement. When the heaving finally stops, I find what’s left of my voice.
“Why are you…doing this?” I sputter glaring up at him through the blood pooling in my eyes.
“Because I can,” he says with a shrug his belt clanking as his trousers drop to his feet. He lowers himself to the ground and forces my knees apart.
I press my eyes shut and retreat inside myself. Snakeskin grunts and his full weight slams down on top of me. I sob against his chest and brace myself, but nothing happens. He doesn’t move. His body is heavy and limp against mine. I feel myself slipping away, and I let go. The weight of this life is lifted from my body and I accept my fate.
I smile and slowly open my eyes ready to embrace death, but it seems he has come for another. Snakeskin is lying on the ground beside me his mouth agape, his skull caved in on one side. He stares directly at me but there is nothing behind those blue eyes. Brody stands over him, his shaky hands clutching the bounty hunter’s discarded metal baton.
He rushes toward me, but darkness reaches me first.
Finally…finally, I sleep.
The amber leaves of the large oak rustle and twirl on the breeze. They cling to the branches, resisting the change of season. Every few minutes, one gives in and releases its hold and drifts to the ground, another stitch in the blanket that covers the valley. The chill of late autumn weighs down the air, but the setting sun feels warm against my face.
My favorite book lies splayed in my lap. I run my fingers over the beautiful prose on its well-loved pages and nestle against the rough bark of the tree. This is where my father was laid to rest four winters ago. His absence left a hole in my heart.
“Willa, come inside,” Mother shouts from the porch of our squat little shack. The floorboards creek beneath her weathered shoes.
“Mama.” My younger brother whimpers clutching weakly at her skirts.
Joseph was born a year after my father died. He is a frail boy, his body weak and ailing since birth. His hair is ghost-white and hangs limp and matted against his smal
l head. His large eyes are the color of smelted silver and sink low in his cheeks. There is a lifetime of suffering beneath their ethereal gray surface.
Mother smiles lovingly and scoops Joseph into her arms then plucks a small flower from the wilting planter near our front door. She tickles his nose with the petals and he giggles sweetly, rubbing the tears from his swollen eyes.
“Willa?” Mother steps off the porch.
I frown and turn the page, refusing to acknowledge her. I’m not ready to walk away from my fantasy world yet, so I close my eyes and imagine my happily ever after. True love. Safety. A family of my own.
It seems I shall have none of these things. Have I failed my God in some way?
“Please, do not forsake me,” I whisper to Him. Perhaps if I pray hard enough, these weathered pages will swallow me whole and steal me away from this nightmare.
“For pity’s sake, Willa. The Count has traveled many miles. We mustn’t keep him waiting.” She shakes her head and stomps toward me, hefting my brother farther onto her hip. “Willa, are you listening to me? Stop daydreaming and come along. It’s time for you to go.”
“Please, don’t make me do this.” I growl. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Willa no go.” Joseph says feebly, tears streaming down his cheeks.
He reaches a hand out toward me but he’s too weak to hold it there. It falls to his side and his head sinks to Mother’s shoulder.
“Don’t be sad, child,” she says brushing Joseph’s hair from his eyes. “Your sister is going to be a princess. She’s going to live in a big castle, wear the finest gowns in all the land, and have riches as far as the eye can see. Doesn’t that sound like a grand adventure?”
“I don’t want to marry him, Mother.” I sigh and look up at her, my eyes brimming with tears. “He’s old, and strange, and…and he calls me Kitten. He doesn’t want a wife, he wants a pet.”
“Willa,” her expression hardens. “The Count is a wealthy and powerful man. He could have any woman he wants, and he’s chosen you. Despite your stubbornness, he seems quite taken by you. He has asked for your hand, my dear, and I’ve agreed. His proposal is quite generous, all things considered. He’s assured me you will be well kept.”
“I don’t want to be kept, and I don’t love him,” I say tears stinging my eyes.
“With time, perhaps you’ll—”
“Please, mother.” I cut her off. “This is the only home I’ve ever known. I don’t want to go.”
“Willa, you must!” Her eyes go wide with panic.
“Why?” I press clutching my book to my chest. “Why do I have to leave you?”
“Because, if you do not, Joseph will die.” Her breath hitches and she sinks to the ground beside me. Joseph whimpers and latches on tighter. “Please understand, Willa. I’ve done the best I could to take care of this family since your father passed, but it’s not enough. I’m afraid it’s never going to be enough. I have given up everything of value, including my virtue.”
“We could sell our land,” I offer. “The house?”
“The deed transferred hands weeks ago, child,” she says. “There’s nothing left, Willa. Nothing. I owe far too much with no means to repay it. We have no livestock, the fields have gone to seed, and the cupboards are bare. I can no longer sit idly by and watch as my children wither away before me. I don’t know what else to do. You must understand, I just want what’s best for you.”
“What about what I want?” My heart shatters in my chest. “You’re sacrificing your own daughter to repay your debts. Am I not worth more than that? Do you not love me?”
“Love is sacrifice, Willa,” she chokes out. She takes a deep breath and wipes at her eyes as she continues. “In exchange for your hand, the Count has promised to square all our debts and secured sanctuary for Joseph and me in a small hostel in the village. I’ve found work, but it will barely pay enough to feed myself, let alone the both of you.”
“I can work, Mother,” I say, desperation welling in my chest. “I can help you fix this.”
“Perhaps you could, Willa,” she pats my cheek, “but you cannot fix your brother. The Count can. He has given me his word that his healers will not rest until they’ve stolen your brother from Death’s grasp.”
Tears stream down her face and splash onto a bright orange leaf below. I watch in stunned silence as the light leaves my mother’s eyes. She’s given up. With a heavy sigh, I pluck the tear-stained leaf from the ground and press it between the pages of my book.
I rise to my feet and brush the dust from my tattered dress. I take my brother from my mother’s arms and cradle him close. I can feel his bones through his skin. If this is the only way to save him, I will suffer it. I press my forehead to his.
“Willa, no go,” he begs.
“I’ll come back for you,” I say. “I promise.”
“No go.” He hugs me close, his tears mingling with my own.
“Let’s go.” I swipe angrily at my eyes and hold my hand out to my mother. “We mustn’t keep the count waiting.”
“Thank you,” she says. She accepts my hand but will not meet my eyes.
“Willa stay,” Joseph whispers softly, his fingers threading behind my neck.
“I love you, Joseph.” I stifle a sob and press a kiss to his warm head.
Mother and I walk hand in hand toward the house, silent in our pain. The Count and his servants, the village’s most prominent healer among them, stand in the shadows beneath the sagging porch roof. A slow smile spreads across his face when he sees me and my empty stomach tightens.
“Everything is going to be alright, Willa. You’ll see. He is going to take care of you for the rest of your life.” She squeezes my hand and pulls Joseph from my arms. “You’ll never be hungry again.”
The valley is gone. It’s dark and cold. The smell of my surroundings is foreign, but somehow familiar. I try to sit up but cannot move. I cry out as pain and terror wash over me. Every breath is agonizing. I’m drowning and no matter how hard I swim I can’t see the surface. Am I in Hell?
“Whoa. Take it easy, Red.” Water drips to the floor and a warm cloth brushes against the side of my face. I turn my head and snap at it feebly. “Stop that, you stubborn girl! I’m trying to help you.”
“Brody?” I narrow my eyes, but my vision is blurry and the light is poor.
“In the flesh,” he laughs softly, but there is no joy in it.
I try to sit up and fail. Something moves in my chest and I scream. The pain is excruciating. Fresh tears slice a path down my cheeks as a lantern flickers to life. I turn my head slowly and take in the room. I’m lying on a small metal cot surrounded by peeling paint and cracked plaster. My wrists and ankles are bound with worn leather straps.
“Where the hell am I?” I sputter around the taste of my own blood.
“Somewhere safe,” Brody says but he doesn’t look convinced.
“No such thing.” I glare at him and yank weakly at my bindings.
“I know what you are, Red.” Brody rubs the back of his neck. “I knew the moment I saw you on that transport.”
“You know nothing.” I lower my gaze.
“I know enough.” Brody dips the cloth into the water and gently dabs at the blood around my eye. I hiss when the rough fabric makes contact. “God, you look like hell, Red. That Elite bastard really did a number on you.”
Snakeskin.
“Oh, god.” My body shakes as the scene from the alley replays in my head. “You—you killed him!”
“I didn’t mean to,” Brody’s face goes pale and sweat beads at his brow. His breathing is labored and uneven. “It just, sort of, happened. When he showed up at the club, I knew you were in trouble. I tried to get rid of you before he saw you, but obviously it didn’t work. I turned my back for a minute and both of you were gone. When I finally found you in that alley, he was…he was hurting you. I don’t know, I guess I just snapped.”
“Jesus, Brody. How could you be so stupid?” I gr
ind out. “You don’t even know me. Why would you do that?”
“What was I supposed to do, Red?” He rakes his hair back. “He was going to—”
“You were supposed to walk away, you fool.” I glare at him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I saved your life,” Brody frowns at me. “Again.”
“He wasn’t going to kill me, you idiot!” I lurch toward him.
I hear another crack in my chest and darkness finds me again. I don’t know how long I’m out this time, but when I open my eyes he’s still there. My restraints have been removed and my hair is slicked back from my face.
Brody sits on a small stool next to me wiping at my wounds. The rag in his hand is a murky shade of pink. Hard lines have formed across his forehead and he looks pallid.
“Welcome back, Red,” he says.
“Ourovoros will come for you, Brody,” I say, my voice cracking. “They’ll come for you and they’ll execute you.”
“I know.” He frowns and drops the cloth into the bowl of water. It splashes onto the floor at his feet.
“If they find you, they find me,” I hiss.
“I know, okay?” he says. “Look, I have a plan. You’re probably not going to like it, but it’s the only way I can think of to save both of us.”
“You have to stop trying to save me.” I sag against the battered cot. “You’re going to get me killed.”
“Does that mean you don’t want this?” He holds up a small silicon pouch and shakes it in front of me.
Thick red fluid sloshes around inside the bag. My fangs descend with a twhick. I snatch the blood from his hand and tear into it without concern for its source. My heart sings as the warm liquid rolls down my throat.
My eyes roll back and I let out a moan. My body hums and my injuries begin to slowly knit themselves back together. The blood is pure, unaltered, and there’s a hint of…cheap bourbon.
“Is this?” I narrow my eyes at him. “How?”
“I went back to Virtue after I brought you here,” Brody says. “He was still there, chatting up another young girl.”
