Roseblood

by Emily Shore

  “1174?” I questioned them, peeking at their screens.

  Heath did his best with the death glare, but only I’d inherited it from Mom. Heath’s eyes were too calculating. Too soulful blue.

  “Don’t even think about it, Rin,” he warned.

  “Already happening.”

  Heath groaned and swept up my arm. “I’ve seen these parties. It’s not your style.”

  “I’m 17 now,” I reminded him and showed him the text. “This is my last semester of senior year. I’m playing for keeps now. What would it look like if I back down from every challenge? Even if it does have an invite wrapped around it.”

  “She’s got a point,” Brian confirmed, swinging an arm around my shoulder. “It’s about time she had a social life.”

  “You stay out of this,” Heath reprimanded Brian. “The only reason you want her to go is so you can challenge whoever tries to come after her and show off your wolf skills for the packs.”

  “Me?” Brian guffawed at me. “Never!”

  I gave Brian a side-grin.

  “Rin, do you really think it’s a good idea to go to a party right before you meet with the Queen?” Our safe older brother played everything so close to the vest.

  I considered his words, confirming them in my mind. I knew staying away was the safe choice, the rational choice. Until my phone pinged again…with the worst news headline I’d ever read:

  Reina Caraway Discovered in Vineyard with a Corpse. Flees for Her Life.

  It felt like a Notre Dame bell chimed inside me. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how the news got out. Someone must have seen Raoul and I. Or maybe the murderer leaked the news. Either way, it made the decision for me. I wouldn’t flee this time. I was going to this party.

  “You owe me,” I urged Heath, poking his chest. “For the non-water bottle.”

  “Oh, good grief, how long will you hold that over my head?”

  “I almost got hemochromatosis!”

  “You don’t even know what means. Are you ever going to stop whining about it?”

  Oh, he talked himself into a corner. So, I tiptoed my spider-like fingers along my oldest brother’s chest and asked, “That wasn’t whining. Would you like to hear some real whining?”

  Brian jumped between us. “Heath, don’t get her started.”

  “Listen…” I grabbed both their arms and needled my eyes back and forth between each one, “You get me to this party and we’re even from the overnighter I spent in the hospital getting my stomach pumped. And Brian, we’re even from the time you left the carcass in the backyard.”

  “I’m game,” said Brian. He was always game.

  Heath rubbed the back of his neck, disturbing his chocolate curls. “I’m going to regret this.”

  I texted yes to reply to the invite. The GPS coordinates came through. Nine o’clock tonight.

  After concluding I had absolutely no dress to impress for this event, Heath swept in, snatched my arm and guided me back to his room, which was far too immaculate.

  “I was saving this for your prom.”

  As soon as Heath opened the wardrobe, I stepped back. “Heath! No, it’s way too much,” I gushed.

  “Quit your dramatics.” My brother withdrew the 1920’s inspired evening gown, easing his palm underneath one side of the fabric as if he were cradling a Faberge egg. “It’s non-returnable, and it certainly won’t fit me. Don’t let it go to waste.”

  Without saying anything else, I collected the dress and stood on my tiptoes to kiss my brother on the cheek. Careful not to trip over the long chiffon skirt, I rushed back to my bedroom. Even after I tried it on, I was paranoid about tearing it. Delicate as a fairy wing, the evening gown could almost double as a wedding dress. A transparent overdress with under-layers of white chiffon. Lace combined with silver threaded latticework accented the glittery, beaded, capped sleeves and crystalline sweetheart neckline. The backless dress was beyond beautiful. Someone had infused it with the Northern Lights on a hushed winter night.

  “Stunning,” Heath noted, head peeking around the corner of my bedroom door. “Just need to do something with those curls.”

  “No…” Alarmed, I sprung away, protecting my hair. I was really preventing him from seeing the bruises. “I’ll run some curl enhancer through them and pin some curls in the front. They’ll look nice against the backless dress.”

  “No, they won’t unless you do a partial-down for a demurer style. Come on. Backless dresses are designed to show your―” Heath paused with his hands on my shoulders and pivoted me toward him as he finished, “―back. Reina Elizabeth Caraway!” I winced when my older brother pressed a thumb to one of the bruises. “What the hell?” He cursed through gritted teeth before swinging me around and repeating with more fervor with his hands primed on my shoulders. “What. The. Hell?!”

  Chapter Four

  The Chateau

  “It’s not what you think! At least I don’t think it is,” I added, biting my lower lip, uncertain myself.

  “When did this happen? Who did it?”

  “Yesterday morning. After I woke up in the vineyard, my back was hurting…I saw these in the bathroom mirror.”

  “Any reason why you didn’t tell someone? By someone, I mean me.”

  “Because I didn’t want you to overreact.” I held up my hands. “And I don’t think anyone did this.”

  Heath examined the bruises, contemplating, “If someone had laid hands on you, I would know about it. I would smell it.”

  “Except none of you could track my scent the other night,” I pointed out. “And you only picked up on Raoul’s scent.”

  “Raoul would never―”

  “Obviously. He knows. Besides…” I pursed my lips, hesitant, before conveying, “I just get this feeling that the bruises aren’t a bad thing. Like they’re supposed to happen.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Maybe,” I pondered. Regardless, it didn’t change the way I felt. I sidestepped him, opening my beseeching hand. “Please don’t tell Dad. And for heaven’s sake, don’t tell Mom! If it keeps happening, I promise I’ll tell them. But for all we know, this could be prophecy-related.”

  Heath sighed and rubbed his face with both hands, but I could tell he would relent.

  “Follow me. We’ll find some way to cover them up for the night.”

  At this rate, we’d never make it to the party, which I wondered was Heath’s plan all along when he’d ordered a limo and had that limo drive us all throughout the downtown area. Not just a casual drive but a fine-toothed tour complete with passing views of the city hall, hotels, business centers, the museum, high school, restaurants, town square, the college and even safe houses where new residents were monitored. Assimilation into the animal-blood based society was required for any who wished to permanently relocate here. Throughout the years, the Council had assured the city’s secrecy from securing the borders with Guardians, our own brand of Secret Service, to paying political officials so planes couldn’t fly over Le Couvènte. Those were the main points I’d picked up from Le Couvènte history class. Unlike Heath, I wasn’t a quick study.

  Heath had turned on the nightly news in the limo. I overheard the on-scene reporter outside City Hall discussing the latest blood-typing influx. Always common during an election year.

  Outside the window, I looked up at a billboard advertising for a blood farm. The sixth one I’d seen so far. Animal blood farms were key to maintaining our way of life. Breeding the best livestock. Higher-ranking clans had the best, including larger mammals like bears. I still wondered what the human corpse dropped outside a mid-clan’s farm was all about. The thought of human blood farms chilled me to the bone. The Council would never permit such a thing.

  Finally, we reached the outskirts of Le Couvènte and all its old buildings including the Chateau. I couldn’t help but fawn over it. I loved old architecture, particularly when it was abandoned. It reminded me of a small castle with its towers and steep roofs
. Decrepit but still strong enough to support the thundering bass we could hear as the limo approached. A country manor with medieval elements, one would almost expect a drawbridge atop a moat to greet our limousine. Instead, there was an overgrown drive leading to the courtyard with its cracked center fountain.

  As soon as the vehicle stopped and the door opened to reveal a sneering vampire valet even younger than me, I realized the lowest members of high school clans and packs has been chosen as servants for tonight. I bit my lower lip from the knowledge, swallowing back bile. Maybe not in status but in blood, I would be considered far lower. The bile turned to ash in my stomach once I stepped out and glimpsed the abandoned vineyards surrounding the decrepit Chateau. The moment I woke in the vineyard yesterday returned to me. I shut my eyes as the corpse invaded my thoughts.

  Leaning on the limo door for support, I took a few deep, calming breaths in right before Heath cupped my shoulder and murmured in my ear, “You don’t have to do this, Rin.”

  Too late now. A herd of vampires and wolves clutching beer bottles and wine glasses with rims stained red with blood ushered outside to the stone staircase to witness my ascent. No doubt, the few lingering at the entrance had heralded my arrival. My emotions warred, one side screaming at me to get back in the limo and forget all about this. The queen inside me spit at such cowardice.

  Instead, I snuck my arm around Heath’s, did the same with Brian when he wove his way around the other side of the vehicle. They’d double as my escorts. I could lean on them without raising any suspicion.

  This was neutral ground. Generations ago, in the founding days, the Chateau was wolf/vampire co-owned. Devlin Vaughn and Vince Wagner. Apparently, they’d met in Germany and relocated in the early days of Le Couvènte to start the Chateau as a lavish bed and breakfast. The first Le Couvènte business co-owned by each race. Apparently, Vaughn also owned several hospitals. Some theorized he’d gained his fortune from selling donated blood to vampires on the black market. I loved the history even if both Vaughn and Wagner were in sleep stasis now.

  Several eyes wandered in my direction. Some studied the heaven-dropped dress and my ostentatious curls swept to one shoulder. No, not my curls. My neck.

  Heath lowered his voice to a whisper, teasing my ear, “All hail, Reina, ruler of the dogs.”

  “And bloodsuckers,” Brian retorted.

  I elbowed them. “Queen over you both.” I played along, thankful for their humor, which provided a good distraction.

  Fortifying my jaw, I unhooked my hands from both their arms and continued walking with them trailing me close behind.

  “So, she reveals herself to her subjects tonight,” Heath pronounced as I stepped through one of the arched entryways.

  Inside, the high, vaulted ceilings reminded me of a sanctuary, offering me welcome and safety. This was a place where one would come to worship royals. My low heels clicked along the black and white marble floor as the lantern lights reflected in my brothers’ eyes. Their glow beckoned us deeper inside the Chateau to the gallery where the music pulsed.

  As soon as we rounded the corner to the gallery, vampires and wolves both started at my sudden appearance. Brian and Heath remained close on each side of me, my shadow protectors. We were a supernatural DNA cacophony poured into the world’s largest blender. Pulse well.

  In the arched nooks on one side of the wall were iron candelabras and tables oozing with chocolate and wine fountains. On the other side, the grand French windows were all open, offering a view of the derelict vineyards beyond. More than anything, I wanted to spend more time admiring the Renaissance-style art, the fractured checkerboard floors, and the grand fireplace with white stone mantle at the end of the gallery.

  But there was no time when the DJ faded the music and a vampire rose on the erected stage. Even with two hundred feet of space and bodies between myself and the DJ, everyone near him was still aware of my presence. I should have known Vince Vaughn was behind the party. A direct descendent of the Founder Vaughn. No doubt he’d only invited werewolves out of spite. Or to create more drama as was common around this time. It was an election year.

  “We have a special guest with us tonight!” Vince picked up a microphone from the DJ and announced to the crowd. “Let’s all give a round of applause for the one, the only―and I do mean the only―” he joked, shaking his head, chortling. From here, I could see the gleam of his fangs. I stiffened when he finished, “Reina Caraway!”

  A thundering round of applause had Heath bristling next to me, going so far to steady a hand on my back, then squeeze my arm. I hadn’t realized it was shaking. Every single eye in the room was dilated.

  “Don’t give her the cold shoulder now,” Vince joked again. “Aaaand we certainly don’t want the heat to catch up with her,” he hinted to the wolf side.

  I rolled my eyes and swayed to the other side of the room, pinpointing a wine fountain. If I was going to survive this, I sure as hell needed a drink.

  “Oh, come now, Reina,” Vince made his way through the crowd toward me, “Can we get a smile?”

  I came this close to saying “bite me”, but instead, I just ignored him, filled up a wine glass and downed it in one gulp.

  “Ooooh, spicy!” Vince complimented me as my insides warmed, tickling my blood. I would get a little fuzz but nowhere near the buzz I wanted.

  Vince’s frame was much broader than I realized as he approached. “Damn, girl!” he remarked, eyes roaming up and down my figure. “We got a silver thing going here.” He turned back briefly to the crowd and whispered into the mike, “Maybe she’s chosen her side already,” he hinted and stepped closer.

  Heath flattened one hand on the other vampire’s chest, warning him and signaling everyone else.

  “Right.” Vince pointed to him. “Big bro, got it. Well, if we can’t get a smile, how about an interview?”

  I huffed and filled up my wine glass again.

  It was a mistake not to respond because Vince uttered, “Hmm, no interview. Too high above us already?”

  I shoved right past Heath even though he tried to seize my arm as I marched right up to Vince.

  He threaded his brows up and down. “Uh oh, I’m in trouble now.”

  Vampires and wolves alike chuckled around him.

  A sudden idea came to me. I glanced back at Heath once, and he blinked, registering what was in my head right before he grinned with an airy chuckle. Perfect. Simpering just a little, I waltzed right up to Vince, reached for the microphone and winked at him as he eased it into my hand. Then, I raised it to my lips and sang the chorus to The Greatest Showman’s “This Is Me”. Their sharp words would not cut me down tonight. I refused to apologize. I was neither vampire nor werewolf. I would never align myself against either. I was who I was meant to be. I was a fucking fleshbag warrior.

  I dropped the mic to a thundering of applause. Vince pressed one hand to his chest, then fluttered his other hand in front of his face as if fanning himself. I beamed on one side of my mouth and used my two index fingers to make the heart gesture, mouthing, “I love you”.

  “I’d say that’s a perfect intro to our evening’s main debut! I’ve got a special treat for you all…” Vince disappeared back into the crowd, hurrying back up to the stage. “As you know, my family owns the top-selling vineyard in Le Couvènte, but I’ve got something even better in store for you tonight. A silver blood fountain!” He extended a hand and gestured to two low-class vampires and wolves who rolled in the table carting the fountain. A few heads lifted, but Vince was not finished explaining, “As vintage as they come, my grandfather’s secret stash, this silver blood was dredged right from bottles in my basement. A hundred years in the aging process!”

  I could see the desire in Heath’s eyes. How his tongue salivated from just the sight of the silver blood. Not that I could blame him. Silver blood was a hot commodity for vampires, silver blood was far more appetizing than any animal blood. Just as biting humans was illegal, so it was illegal to bit
e vampires. Drinking donated vampire blood, however unorthodox, was permitted. Human blood was still prized above all, but human blood was illegal on all fronts in Le Couvènte―even donated.

  The Council only made exceptions for new residents or transfers with human blood still in their system, but they still went through a stringent, reform process. And most transfers were bitten vampires. For a time, they could probably tolerate animal blood, but sooner or later, the desire for human blood would be too strong, too addictive to resist forever. Bitten vamps had better chances of resisting human blood since they were once humans themselves. Born ones did not.

  I urged Heath to go. Between my jaw-dropping spectacle and the new feeding frenzy, it was safe for me to embark onto the nearby terrace as long as I maintained line of sight. Heath could join me after his drink.

  Vampires became specters in their hurry to join the auction; Heath was no exception.

  The appeal of silver blood was not lost on the wolves. I took refuge along the attached terrace that featured an unobstructed view of the vineyards. Curls of warm wind murmured upon my skin, promising the reward of an early spring for which I'd hoped. If I was going to have any more mornings outside in my bare feet, the weather could at least have the decency to behave.

  Just as I leaned over the balcony of the long terrace, I heard voices from the other side that wrapped around the Chateau. Underneath one of the towers. Enclosed enough that I could hear the distant words. They almost echoed.

  “So, I’ll meet you tonight as planned?”

  “You bring the money. I’ll bring the bags,” the other vampire replied in a low voice.

  I recognized them. Two vampires who attended Le Couvènte High; Geoffrey and Michael.

  “Have you tasted yet?” inquired Michael with a deep but eager hum in his voice.

  As soon as he spoke, I immediately knew I was in trouble.

  In some cities, it's cocaine. In Le Couvènte, it's blood. Human blood.

  “Think of all the elites in there gorging themselves on silver blood when you can buy any blood type you want on the black market.”