A Shade of Vampire 64: A Camp of Savages

by Bella Forrest

  Isda stopped by our group, while Monos handled the one next to us. As usual, to make it easier for the Faulties, we separated in clusters of fifty to sixty people, sometimes even fewer, leaving enough room between us for them to swiftly pass through with their carts.

  “What’s wrong with Monos? Who gave him the shiner?” Claudia asked Isda, while keeping her gaze fixed on Monos’s bruised left eye and split lip.

  Isda gave us the blood bottles first, along with a weak smile. “He and the others got into an argument with Gadriel, one of the first-generation Perfects,” she said. “Monos didn’t start it. He tried to stay out of trouble, but Gadriel kept teasing, calling him a monster, a work in progress, an unfinished mutt. Monos couldn’t take it anymore, and… well, you can see for yourselves.”

  “Why do you keep letting them do this to you?” Corrine replied.

  It was time to add some gasoline to that small fire. The spark had lit something up. I could even see it in Isda’s eyes—not to mention Monos’s. He was practically fuming, the poor thing.

  “What can we do against them?” Isda murmured, then let out an audible sigh.

  The Perfect guards settled by the doors again, frowning as they oversaw the feeding process. “No talking to the prisoners!” one of them shouted, loudly enough to startle Isda. She moved away and continued passing out bowls of food and water bottles, doing her best to avoid even eye contact.

  “Isda,” Sofia whispered after her, while the others in our group moved around to obscure the Perfects’ view. “Isda, talk to us. We can help!”

  “How could you possibly help?” Isda replied with a hiss. We all stilled, surprised by the tone of her otherwise mellow voice. Her frustration was finally boiling over. As much as I disliked seeing her like this, I couldn’t help but feel optimistic. Isda being so close to the breaking point worked in our favor. The more dissent among the Faulties, the better our odds of staging our escape. “You are prisoners here! You can’t do anything!”

  Monos snuck through the crowd, leaving his cart behind. He came straight to me, his brow furrowed and his jaw locked. Determination was practically oozing out of him. “What do you need?” he asked, prompting Lucas, Xavier, and Aiden to move closer so they could listen in on this unexpected conversation.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, feigning confusion. I knew exactly what he meant, but I needed him to say it out loud. A spoken commitment was worth more than anything for creatures as simple and as honest as the Faulties.

  “To stop the Perfects. To destroy them. Or put them in their place. Or whatever it takes, as long as they cease tormenting us!” Monos replied.

  “Monos, don’t!” Isda warned him, but kept the Perfects’ attention on her, nonetheless, as she advanced through the cluster and drew focus away from my group.

  “She is too afraid,” Monos said. “The rest of us are tired. We can’t take it anymore,” he added. “Every day, every damn day, they try to start a fight. They poke, they prod, until we can’t hold back anymore. They feed on our anger and our misery. Then, they revel in beating us. I just… I can’t. I’m done. I love Father, but I cannot live a life like this anymore. I cannot experience such hurt, while the Perfects thrive and rub it in my face.”

  “And you shouldn’t,” Xavier said.

  Briefly glancing around, I noticed Sofia, Kailyn, Liana, Corrine, and the other ladies in our crew as they discreetly kept up with Isda through the crowd. There were over six hundred of us in there, but we’d learned to coordinate when the Faulties came in. It was crucial not to let the Perfects see us talking to them. Ta’Zan didn’t want us fraternizing with them, but he didn’t take our large numbers into account. Then again, he didn’t have a reason to think we’d do anything stupid, not while we still had the collars around our necks.

  However, he did underestimate us.

  “I know you can’t do or say much with the collar on,” Monos said, “but I can help. Me and my brethren, we’re tired, Derek. We are so… tired.”

  I gave him a nod and a weak smile. We had him right where we wanted him.

  “We are helpless in here,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. As soon as I brought up rebellion, the collar was bound to heat up. If I insisted, electric shocks would follow. And that got us nowhere.

  Monos stared at my collar for a while. “If I get that off you, will you help?”

  “Absolutely,” Lucas interjected, then groaned when the collar heated around his neck. “Damn, these things are sensitive.”

  “It’s how Ta’Zan keeps us under control,” I said lowly.

  “Okay. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Amal. I’ll have her talk to you,” Monos said. “I’ll find a way to get the key from her. She’s the only one who can take the collars off. But you must promise you’ll help us. Don’t just run off and leave us hanging. If I let you go, you have to make sure we get a better life!”

  “Monos, if we regain our freedom, I will make sure everyone gets a shot at a good life,” I said, ignoring the uncomfortable heat spreading in my throat.

  Monos smiled, then went back to his feeding cart, just as a couple of Perfects moved toward us. They looked around and spotted him back in the next cluster, handing out food bowls. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the guards return to their posts by the double doors.

  To my left, deeper into another cluster, Sofia and the girls were talking to Isda. They’d finally gotten her to open up, judging by the look on her face and her slightly more relaxed posture. From what I could tell, Claudia, Hansa, and Anjani were particularly adept at getting the Faulty to talk.

  “What now, then?” Varga asked, crossing his arms.

  “We wait,” I replied softly. “The Perfects did most of our work for us. We’ll get our break soon enough.”

  A few hours later, during lunchtime, the Faulties came back with other food carts. They kept our doses relatively small, getting our digestive systems used to three meals a day. According to Ta’Zan, the more balanced and frequent our meals were, the healthier we would be. Of course, that was somewhat redundant as far as vampires were concerned, but I have to give Ta’Zan some credit. Smaller meals thrice a day did seem to have a positive effect on my skin, as well as on Sofia’s complexion. Despite our status as prisoners, we were well looked after.

  This time, however, Monos and Isda kept their distance altogether, choosing to feed other clusters. Their siblings came around and handed us our blood bottles. For a second there, I had a feeling they’d changed their minds.

  “Why are they avoiding us?” Sofia asked. “Do you think they’re backing down?”

  “I’m not sure,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the Perfect guards, who, in turn, watched Isda and Monos like hawks. “I think they’re just trying to keep a low profile this time around.”

  “Maybe someone is suspecting something,” Cameron suggested.

  Jax shook his head. “I doubt it. Look at the guards. They’re watching the Faulties, but they’re not exactly on edge here. It seems like a regular feeding, if you ask me.”

  “Hm. They probably would’ve sent in different Faulties, if they’d caught Monos or Isda conspiring,” Jovi said. “They’re just keeping a low profile, I think.”

  Varga cleared his throat. “Since we can’t explicitly talk about doing anything against Ta’Zan or the Perfects while we wear these wretched things around our necks, how about we imagine hypothetical situations instead?”

  It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what Varga was playing at. He was an intelligent creature—superior to many, in my opinion. One day, he was going to rule Nevertide, and I now understood why Ash and Ruby were so proud of him, and why they never worried about his fitness for the throne. Varga was well ahead of many.

  “Okay, I see what you mean,” I replied, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “So, here’s an interesting logistical problem. You’ve got about six hundred or more people in a big cage. Their goal is to get at least some of them out, so they can orchestrate a smart
attack on the… trolls who imprisoned them, in the first place. Think of this as homework: how do they do it?”

  “I feel like I’m back in school,” Lucas groaned, rolling his eyes.

  “Well, you’re stuck here,” Xavier said. “You’ve got nothing better to do with your time. So get to thinking, buddy!”

  The double doors opened, and Amal strode in.

  My breath hitched when her brilliant orange eyes found me.

  “I think she wants to take you out for drinks.” Lucas chuckled.

  “Seriously, don’t you have homework to do?” Aiden replied, then put his arm around Lucas’s shoulder and pulled him away. Jax and the others joined them, laughing as they mingled with the rest of the crowd.

  The Faulties were done with food distribution, quietly making their way back out of the diamond dome. Monos and Amal exchanged glances when they passed each other. There wasn’t anything there for the Perfects to suspect, since they didn’t know anything. But for me, that one look told me everything—Monos had spoken to Amal in our favor.

  Amal reached me, keeping a straight face. She then looked around, noticing Sofia with the other ladies in our group.

  “Amal,” I said. “What brings you here?”

  Amal returned her focus to me, and then opened the white bag she’d brought in. She produced a metallic instrument, similar to a thermometer, with a glowing blue screen. “Put the slim end in your ear. I need to take your temperature. Routine check.”

  I smiled, then did as told. “How long do I keep it?” I asked.

  “For as long as it takes for me to tell you that, if I help you and your friends, I betray my father,” Amal replied. “A few days ago, I would’ve said no, absolutely not. But Monos is right. And you’re right, too. I don’t like what Father is doing. He no longer takes my advice. He just tells me to shut up and execute his orders. He’s frustrated because he can’t get your ships to work. It’s making him angry.”

  I gasped. “He’s rebuilt the ships already?”

  “He’s got Perfects working for him, remember?” she retorted, smirking. “There’s something about the technology that he can’t get right. Not yet, anyway. It’s a matter of time. But I now see what my sister was talking about. I understand why Raphael chose to leave, too.”

  “Who’s Raphael?” I asked.

  “Father’s brightest. Abaddon and his crew revealed that your children are trying to make an alliance with him, and that just annoyed Father even more,” Amal explained. “Point is, we’re not in a good place, Derek, and, as much as I hate to admit it, you were right. This is getting out of hand. And my Faulty brethren are suffering. I thought that if I just kept my head down and focused on work, I’d be fine. But I can’t work like this. The Perfects sneer at me but won’t dare touch me because I’m of value to Father. Monos, Isda, and the others aren’t, and they’re defenseless. Father won’t interfere unless it happens before his very eyes, and that’s mainly because he dislikes conflict. He doesn’t care about the Faulties.”

  “You do know he hasn’t even decided whether he’ll keep you alive or not, right?” I added.

  Amal’s expression signified a painful yes. “I know. I also know when he plans to put them all down, if that’s what he decides to do,” she said. “Amane and I will be the only ones he’ll spare.”

  “Is that why you chose to help us?” I asked, feeling the collar heat up.

  Amal sighed, then motioned for me to give her the thermometer. “Yes. No matter what I’ve said, Father won’t listen. So, I’m helping my siblings myself.”

  I gave her a warm smile.

  “Thank you, Amal—”

  “Don’t thank me yet.” Amal cut me off. “I’ll see what I can do about those collars. In the meantime, you all need to get ready. I can’t get everyone out. There are too many of you. A dozen, at most. Though, honestly, the fewer, the better.”

  She sighed, then left the dome.

  The Perfects narrowed their eyes at her as she passed through the double doors, and I could see their frustration, the veins nervously popping on their temples. They loathed her, but they couldn’t touch her. I breathed out and walked over to my wife and the rest of our crew.

  Lucas raised his eyebrows, giving me a hopeful look.

  I responded with a half-smile. “You do your homework, Lucas, because our orange-eyed friend will handle our… jewelry,” I said, pointing at my collar.

  Sofia wrapped her arms around my waist, her eyes glimmering with sheer enthusiasm. I pressed my lips against her forehead, thankful that I could feel her touch, despite our circumstances.

  “How many people are we talking about? Because six hundred has been a massive problem so far,” Lucas replied.

  “Logistical nightmare, based on what we know about the… prison,” Xavier said.

  “A dozen, at most.” I sighed. “Let’s go over all possible scenarios for up to twelve people.”

  “What about the others?” Varga asked, frowning.

  “The trolls won’t hurt them,” I said. “They’ll be safe in the prison, at least until the others come back for them. They wouldn’t leave anyone behind. Consider it a crucial policy.”

  It was time to look forward to our escape. I couldn’t think about it for too long, and I couldn’t talk about it. But I could definitely smile and hold my wife close, while Amal handled the collar keys.

  As our crew spread out and carefully analyzed guard positions around the diamond dome, I came to an uneasy conclusion. Even if we got free of the collars, we still needed a diversion in order to get out of here. The Perfects were too powerful, too fast, and potentially devastating.

  We needed the Faulties’ help.

  Sofia

  We gathered in a more secluded part of the dome, while the prisoners moved around and helped keep us out of sight. There were guards on the outside, patrolling the pathways mounted on different levels of the structure, but we were largely undisturbed.

  The evening was settling outside, with its deep shades of red and orange crisscrossing the sky like angry dabs of watercolor. The jungle around us trembled. I would’ve loved to feel that afternoon breeze brushing against my skin, and to inhale the slightly salty air coming in from the ocean nearby.

  “It sucks to not be able to actually talk about this stuff,” Claudia muttered, crossing her legs as she sat on the floor in front of Derek and me, joined by Yuri, Xavier and Vivienne, Lucas and Marion, my dad and Kailyn, Cameron and Liana, Corrine and Ibrahim, Jax and Hansa, Jovi and Anjani, Varga, and a very grumpy Heath. The dragon’s wounds had healed, but his ego was still severely bruised.

  “We are speaking in math problems and hypotheses,” Lucas replied with a grin.

  “Yeah, well, I was never an A-student, so I’ll pass. Just give me the conclusion,” Claudia replied, gently leaning into her husband.

  Yuri chuckled softly. “You’re more of a doer than a thinker.”

  “Keep talking like that and you’ll see exactly what kind of a doer I am,” Claudia answered with a low growl that simply made him laugh even harder.

  “Baby, I married you. I know exactly what kind of a doer you are,” Yuri said. “And I look forward to… doing all that, all over again.”

  Yuri slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, while Lucas, Varga, and Xavier placed a number of small empty bottles and porcelain bowls in the middle of our seated circle.

  “All right. So! I think we figured out a way to solve our logistical problem of humans versus trolls. Hypothetically, of course!” Lucas quipped.

  Marion giggled, but she was beaming with pride. “If ever there was something that my husband was always an expert in, it’s machinations and plotting. Hypothetically!”

  That made me smile. She did have a point, though. If anyone could see a way out, if anyone could weave a new path in the middle of an absolute disaster—I believed it was Lucas. My husband’s brother hadn’t just become resilient over the years, but also incredibly resourceful. Not
that I or Derek couldn’t devise an exit strategy ourselves, but we needed everyone in our crew to do something, to feel useful, to not go crazy. We were all on the same page, anyway, and I was convinced that Lucas’s plan would be very similar to what Derek and I had been thinking.

  “So, how can a small group of humans escape from a troll prison?” Derek asked, eyeing his brother in particular.

  Lucas, Xavier, and Varga looked at each other and smiled. Lucas then put two small bottles together, leaving the others in a larger group. He surrounded them with porcelain bowls. At first glance, we were looking at a mockup of a map, with hostile and friendly positions laid out.

  “Imagine the humans are the bottles, and the trolls are the bowls. There are hundreds of humans in this hypothetical prison, but only a handful can get out and help the others already at large to destroy the trolls,” Lucas said. “These are the enemy positions around the prison. There’s only one way out, and that’s here,” he added, pointing at an imaginary spot on the floor. He placed his hand above the two small bottles next. “These are the twelve that can escape, provided they get help with their… cuffs.”

  So far, our collars weren’t heating up beyond a reasonable limit. We’d managed to fool whatever system Ta’Zan had put in place to read our brainwaves. If we kept talking in hypotheticals and changing terms, we could carry out a longer conversation about escaping the dome. Again, Ta’Zan’s inexperience with our kind had clearly come in handy.

  Lucas took us through three different scenarios, including one with a diversion, which seemed like the most reasonable option.

  “If the crowd attacks the trolls in order to help the group of humans escape,” he said, “it’ll draw more trolls in to control them. Given that there are hundreds of them in the prison, more guards are a bad idea, making it nearly impossible for the small group to sneak out. Ideally, they would need outside help from… ugh, trying to think of a name here—”