Other than Sibold, Luke was the closest thing that I had to family, and I loved him dearly.
When he turned to look at me his grey eyes – somewhat like Sibold’s, though entirely different – were gentle but distraught, full of pain; I knew by those eyes that he had missed me, too.
“Juliet,” he said, my name sounding heavier than it ever had before, so much contained within those three syllables, “tell me, how have you been while I was...away?” he asked, turning his gaze from me as he found a seat on his bed, a small, short, beat-up mattress that he barely even fit on when scrunched, he was so tall and broad; it was a bed, though, and many slaves weren’t afforded one.
My heart felt heavy with the sadness in his eyes as I walked over to my own bed and sat down, running my hand along the slightly worn, displaced coverlet that lingered atop it, which had been a present from Sibold – he had wanted to give me a new one, but his father had absolutely refused, so he’d opted for a gently used one, instead. The material was soft beneath my fingers, the rose print bringing a gentle smile to my face. Normally I made my bed in the morning, as my mother had taught me to what seemed like so long ago, but that morning I hadn’t had time, already late for the tenth hour.
Luke’s bed was perfectly made, save the wrinkles he’d created while sitting, another symbol that he had been away.
I kept my gaze fixed upon the coverlet as I answered him. “How much time do you have before she expects you?” I asked Luke softly, wanting to know how much I should tell him now, because I didn’t want him to be late.
I had made him late before, and it had nearly cost him his life.
Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel Luke tense, could see it in my mind’s eye. As with Sibold, I knew Luke well enough to be able to sense when he was discomforted. Our bond was strong, though...different than the one that I shared with my vampire Lord. “We have a few moments before I’ll need to leave,” he told me, his voice thick, causing me to look up, my heart all but breaking when I saw the pained look that had been in his eyes had transferred to his expression, causing worry lines. His grey gaze met mine. “I hate this, Juliet. I hate it. Why does she,” he swallowed thickly, holding my gaze, “why does she put me through this?” anguish became him as he leaned back on his arms and looked up at the ceiling.
Anyone who saw Luke when he was outside of the room we were in now would have never believed that the man who was staring at the ceiling, tears streaking his face, was the same person that became so stoic, so controlled in front of the vampires.
I hated them for it – for doing this to him, for making him this way. It wasn’t fair that he felt like he had to hide, had to act a certain way, though I knew that I was just as guilty of it as he was.
All until earlier.
All until the little boy, and the vampire maid.
Now I had broken the rules, and that rule breaking had consequences. But still, I now believed that Luke was right, that change took time, and thinking about it I didn’t regret what I had done.
And maybe I hated that, too. Maybe my years of relenting, of letting the Masters control me, had programmed me to hate what I was beginning to become – or what I had always been—
A human who wasn’t satisfied with being a slave.
A moment later I found myself standing, not able to sit and watch Luke cry from a distance without wanting to be there next to him. I stepped forward, closing the distance between my bed and his, and sat at his side, wrapping my arms around him in a sideways hug; he tilted his head downwards, looking away from the ceiling in order to bury his face in the side of my neck.
“I don’t know why she does this to you, Luke,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks as well as I closed my eyes tightly, hardly able to bear the knowledge of what Luke would soon have to face – again. “I don’t know – I hate her, too.”
The ‘her’ of whom we spoke was none other than Sibold’s mother, the Mistress Delouge, the Lady who for years now had seen Luke as her personal plaything. She was the reason that he had become L’Amblood.
Luke had first appeared at the Manor when I was fourteen, only five short years ago. He had been brought in as a slave for the Master’s wife, whose name was Belladonnis, who Master Deluge seemed to pay little attention to. Rumors had spread that Luke was a tratilisee – a traitor – to the vampire kind and way, and that he had killed his old Master, and had then run away, to later be picked up by the guards of the Manor. This had of course been a lie, since there was no way that a human would ever be able to overpower a vampire, let alone a Lord like Luke’s old Master, but the maids had enjoyed spreading the rumor about, making it into their own personal folktale, something that they could laugh about.
Luke had been moved into my room immediately upon arrival, and though I hadn’t liked sharing the space at first, I had been more than glad to have another human for company. We had become fast friends, and Luke had relayed the truth to me – that his Master had been killed by a rogue, a being called a Lycanthrope, a man who shifted from human to wolf, an enemy of the vampires; only a few, he had said, were left in existence, nearly stamped out by the vampire Masters when they had overcome the Earth, and those few never stopped in their quest to kill as many of their hated enemies as they could manage. His tale had terrified me, and for weeks I had thought of nothing but giant wolves, until Sibold had finally asked me what troubled my mind, and I had then told him of my fears, afterwards asking him if the tales were true, and the Lycanthrope were real – he hadn’t answered, of course, but a faraway look had come into his eyes.
As my friendship with Luke had grown, so had the number of hours that he spent with Mistress Belladonnis, and I had begun to notice that something strange seemed to occupy his every thought. He had become very secretive, until one day he had failed to come back from his visit to the Mistress, and I had grown worried for his safety, afraid that he had done something to displease her, and that she had slain him; the Mistress was rumored to be as cruel and as heartless as her husband, though I had only seen her once from the corner of my eye, as she had spoken to Sibold.
One week, and still Luke hadn’t returned. Rumors had begun to float about the Manor – that he was dead, that she was feeding from him continuously, causing him to clutch at the very last strands of life, that he had been sent away, back to his old Master, which had been found alive – until finally Luke had returned—
Though when he’d returned, he had been different, had changed somehow. When he had first arrived at the Manor he had been withdrawn, reclusive, but in our time together he had opened up to me, the only other human he was allowed to interact with, and I had found a side of him that was happy, that laughed, that smiled, though sometimes sadly; this had all been erased when he’d returned, dark circles beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept once in the week that he’d been gone.
And that is when Luke had told me the truth, when I had learned the terrible fate that befell those who were transformed into L’Amblood.
“I thought that she loved me, Juliet. She convinced me of it, to make everything appear alright,” the soft sound of Luke’s voice was the only sound, save our breathing, in the room as he reached down to grip at my arm for support, his voice no more than a pained whisper. “I was set to persuade her to run away with me – I didn’t want to live entrapped in a lie any longer. But once she turned me, and I became what I am, her eternal slave, I learned the truth – that it was all a lie,” his last words he bit out, the sound of them bitter, like bile in the mouth.
Another tear slipped down as I opened my eyes, my head bent as I whispered back: “I know.”
And I did know, because I had seen it – Luke, when he’d returned a broken man, his heart ripped out by Belladonnis’ fangs, his humanity lost to him.
Because the L’Amblood, what Luke had become, they weren’t human – nor were they vampire. They were something else, something in between, eternal servants to the Master who turned them. They retained th
eir humanity in the fact that they appeared the same, ate the same foods, and slept at the same rate, but they failed to age, forever caught in a prison of the immorality that the vampires enjoyed – or were cursed with, as Luke believed.
The L’Amblood were cursed, even more so than the vampires.
“Oh, Juliet, don’t cry for me,” I jumped when Luke reached up to brush the tears from my cheeks, pulling away from me to take my face in his hands, offering me a smile that was fake, but that I appreciated all the same; it was a wide smile, so different from Sibold’s. “Please, don’t let those monsters dishearten you.”
My mouth opened, and I rushed to protest before I could think of the consequences. “They aren’t all monsters,” I told him, thinking of Sibold, and of L’Hier.
They weren’t monsters – Sibold cared for me, much more than he should have, and he was teaching me things; he wanted me to be free. L’Hier shared his ideas, from what I understood.
“You must see the truth, Juliet,” Luke’s grip on me tightened, though not in a painful way, as his features tightened with it, anger flashing through his grey eyes. “You mustn’t believe them – believe him. He’s lying to you, Juliet!” he said heatedly, making me flinch.
It was no secret that Luke hated Sibold, and vice versa, but he had never said it so plainly before, and the fact that he was saying it now scared me – and made me angry, because I didn’t believe him; I knew Sibold, and there was no way that he was lying to me.
Or...was there? Was I nothing more than a game, a plaything, as Luke had been and was to Belladonnis – nothing more than something that he could toy with, play with the heartstrings of?
No.
Sibold was my Master, but more than that, he was my...friend, and I couldn’t doubt him. I wouldn’t.
Luke was wrong.
I shook my head fiercely, trying to wrestle from Luke’s grip, though I didn’t manage to succeed; he was much stronger than me. “No! You’re wrong, Luke. You’re wrong,” I told him, my voice heated as well, fixing him with a glare much like the one I had given Sibold all those years ago, not wishing to leave my family.
No.
He was wrong.
“I’m not wrong!” Luke insisted, shaking me, trying to get me to understand; I knew that he wouldn’t hurt me intentionally, but that didn’t stop fear from writhing within my chest. “You’re blind, because you’re in love with him!”
That one sentence, those few words, appeared to halt time as Luke abruptly stopped shaking me, and I gasped, my eyes becoming wide.
Oh, yes – love. Luke hated love, because he had been in love with Sibold’s mother once, and he had thought that she was in love with him; it didn’t matter to him that she was a vampire, ancient, because vampires lived so long that time and age hardly mattered to them, time only a bragging right to be thrown in another’s face, nothing else; as far as the fact that she had a child, that hardly mattered, either, because once the vampire child reached adulthood, they were viewed from then on as any other vampire of their rank, though they remained part of the family. He had become her slave, and then she had seduced him, convinced him that she cared, and now he was nothing more than her eternal amusement, because now he was forced to be her lover, when his love had turned to hate.
This was why Luke hated Sibold, hated all vampires, because they lied – and it was part of why Sibold hated Luke, though I had a feeling that it stretched deeper than that.
But Luke was right – I was in love with Sibold; I had been for a long, long time, ever since that night, years ago...
I loved him, whether or not it would amount to anything in the end, whether or not it was wrong for a human to love someone who would never age, who was above her in so many ways, who she could scarcely look at without being punished by the Laws of the world. I loved Sibold more than I loved myself, though not in a self-depreciating way; I only wanted what was best for him. I wasn’t ashamed of this.
But Luke was.
Luke’s expression was bordering rage now as he looked down at me, still holding tightly to my face, something feral seeming to ripple beneath his skin, something that I had never before seen. It terrified me, and I shivered, and then opened my mouth to scream, hoping that whoever heard me would care enough to come running (though it was unlikely), when suddenly a harsh knock echoed from the wooden door.
“You are late, human boy, and the Mistress is displeased,” a harsh male voice – that of one of the vampire footmen no doubt – hissed from outside, causing Luke’s eyes to harden, his anger vanishing abruptly as he internalized his emotions, even the intense rage he felt, and withdrew his grasp from me, standing quickly, though I didn’t move.
I couldn’t move – I could scarcely breathe.
It seemed that I wasn’t the only one changing.
“We’ll speak more of this later,” Luke said, his tone deadly, just before he opened the door and strode out, leaving me alone with my thoughts – the most dangerous objects of all.
I lasted perhaps five minutes before more tears welled in my eyes, and I began crying, having only the strength to stand and walk nearly blind to my bed, throwing myself down on it, wrapping myself in my flowered coverlet – and imagining that I was wrapped in Sibold’s strong arms instead.
“This is the end, yes...
...But it is also the beginning.”
There is nothing like leaving your home, vanishing from it forever, never feeling as though you’ve had a chance to say goodbye. This is what I felt that day as the automobile – something that I had never seen, but had heard of briefly – pulled up to the weathered door of Miss Mercy’s Bright, and Sibold had stepped out into the flurrying white flakes that were termed “snow”, his expression somewhat detached, blank as he stared ahead at the vehicle, what I was told had once been called a “car”, as if he were lost in his own thoughts.
I had seen this, but I had been more determined to say goodbye, to keep hold of the image of my parents’ faces, than to follow Sibold; even then, I had been aware of the fact that I wasn’t doing this for him – because I was excited about having a Master (as some slaves were, especially when they received their names) – but because I wanted my family safe.
Nothing had been more important to me at that point.
Though over the next year, something – someone – would become much more important than anything had ever been before, and that someone had been standing in front of me.
Looking back, it’s quite obvious that I hadn’t known anything at all; I had been naïve. But we all are, in the beginning.
“Master Delouge, I know that I shouldn't speak, but I’m asking you...please, take care of our daughter,” my father had surprised everyone by stepping forward as my mother, allowed a kindness, enveloped me in an all-too-familiar hug, one that I had quickly realized would be ripped from me soon enough. I had heard my mother gasp as I’d looked up from her worn, threadbare coat, and turned my gaze to my father, who was breaking the rules just as much as I would come to as he regarded Sibold with his head held high – though to his credit, Sibold’s back was turned.
“Boy!” Miss Mercy had hissed, and I had flinched, not understanding where her venom had come from, though I’d known by looking at her that she was worried for my father even though she’d been angry. She had been a kind vampire, but a bit old-fashioned, seeing Sibold as her Prince; vampires were very attached to their monarchs, as humans had once been, I would later discover.
I had heard Sibold chuckle, the sound carrying over the wind and the snow, reaching my waiting ears as he had turned and offered Miss Mercy a slight smile, causing her to bow her head; the sound had set my heart to beating even then, though in a different way – it had caused me to hate him even more, this vampire who would take me away. “There is no need for hostility, Miss Mercy. I’m not so young or childish that I would be offended,” he had turned his gaze to me then, the small smile becoming a bit fuller, his hazel eyes warm though calculating. I had glared at him, s
till clutching to my mother, though she had tried to push me away, ducking her head in reverence. “Your fire seems to have been passed onto your daughter. You should be proud,” these words had been directed at my father, though Sibold’s gaze hadn’t passed onto him until the words had left his mouth, his slight smile turning my father’s way.
My father had the decency to bow his head then, though he hadn’t bowed nearly as lowly as my mother had – showing respect, but not servitude. “Thank you, Master Delouge, I am,” he had said, sounding truly thankful, and that had upset me.
Because in that moment, I had understood finally, fully—
They were giving me up.
Before I had said yes to leaving in order to protect my parents, but with my father’s words I had understood that they were happy to give me up, to send me along with this stranger, to send me to a new life where I would never see them again. The concept of never seeing my parents again had been hard on my six-year-old mind, but I had understood it well enough, seeing the proof in my parent’s faces, in the way that my mother had hugged me so tightly before she’d pulled away, as if relinquishing me; she had never hugged me that intensely before, so that must have meant that she would never hug me that intensely again.
But my anger had quickly drained away, only to be replaced by another, somewhat more intense emotion: grief.
Grief had been a new emotion to me then, because I had never really had a reason to feel it before that point in time, wrapped as I was in my parent’s and Miss Mercy’s proverbial blanket, kept safe from the outside world and all of its troubles, its rules, its horrors. I had known what vampires were, because Miss Mercy was one, but I hadn’t understood the fact that things were still being rebuilt to suit the vampires, and not the humans. I had understood very little about the vampires being Masters, because my parents and Miss Mercy had never let me understand; they had wanted to protect me, but that protection had ended up being cruel, giving me view of a world that didn’t exist.
The Legend of Juliet: Part One (A Vampire Dystopia) (Finding Freedom Novellas) Page 5
