by Kelsey Quick
“Stop!” I yell at him in French.
Instantly he freezes, yet remains suspended over me. And where I am expecting to see an enraged vampire that will soon take what he wants despite my protests, instead, I am met with a face looking to have awakened from a nightmare—wide-eyed and cynical. At first, he sits back motionless, unblinking. Then he stands up, simply lingering and turned away from me, all the while a fierce and loud silence fills the interior of the chariot.
“Lord Zein?” I say, cautiously.
Peripherally, he acknowledges me, but his face is still stricken by surprise. I swallow hard, trying to process everything that happened, and a heavy nausea settles in my gut as a result.
Despite the plethora of emotions crashing in and around my skull, there is one that stands out above the rest. Shame. My hands mindlessly trace the spots that he caressed. What happened to the Wavorly from months ago? From a year ago? The woman that would never stand to have a vampire breathe on her, let alone…
I grip the tangled Laisse chain at my chest, simultaneously lifting the straps of my dress back over my shoulders.
Where is my drive for freedom? It’s been months since I’ve actively surveyed the castle for spots of faulty security, for a way out. Why am I not more troubled by this?
Zein turns back to me, seemingly returning to normal.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks.
I blink a couple of times with confusion. “No, not at all.”
Was he just as out of it as I was?
He nods, still standing at a distance. “It was not my intention to...”
He sounds so unusual. So uncertain.
I shake my head. “It’s my fault, too.”
He doesn’t respond, and the air grows heavy with tension. I rely on my fidgeting fingers to distract myself until he sits next to me again. Aside from the rustling trees and howls of wind outside, not a sound interrupts our little world.
I can’t do silence right now. I need distraction.
“Is it okay if we talk?” I ask him quietly.
His eyes shift down to my face, but I don’t meet them. Instead, I focus on my lap.
“Go ahead,” he says.
“I used to feel the same way about humans as I do about vampires. I would silently loathe them because none of them cared or understood. All except Savvy and Castrel, that is,” I confess, my voice shaking as I open up. “But over the last couple of months, Glera, Emi, Katarii, and even some of the vampires… I have learned a lot about them and why they think and feel the way they do.”
I find the courage to meet Zein’s eyes as I say, “I want to know your feelings and thoughts on things. Listen to your views rather than guess at them so that maybe I can learn how to get over this fear and anger that keeps me from... moving forward.”
“What could you be angry and afraid of at this point?” He leans forward to rest on his elbows.
And before I can catch myself I snap back, “The fact that I’m still your slave even though you do and say things like… like that.” I wave my hand aimlessly, referencing the heated moments before.
His eyes are penetrating but I swear if I don’t see surprise cross them, as if he never looked at it that way.
“The only place for a human in Cain is servitude,” he responds solemnly. “I cannot change anything of what you are on the surface. We must always be master and servant when eyes are watching.”
My lips fall to a frown at the reminder. I’m no more than an object for use to the vampire world. What will we be then, when no one is watching? Equals? Yeah, right.
“In my domain, you have more freedom… and you will experience that for the rest of your life,” he says. “I would change things elsewhere if I could. Maybe one day, I can.”
The rest of my life?
There’s something entrapping in that statement, but also… comforting.
I can’t stop my heart from fluttering for an instant, but eventually I subjugate it.
“You won’t think that when I get older,” I say, “when you have to send me to Saya.”
“You will never set foot there.”
His response surprises me, and my muscles tense.
“But you are required to,” I state.
His eyes shift wearily to mine. “I didn’t purchase you from Saya. I owe them nothing, regarding you.”
I swallow thickly. I guess I should believe this, too? I sigh. Right now, though, does it even matter?
I rest my head against him and nod, giving up the fight, begging myself to let go and trust his word. Even though I want to ask, “Why me?” I don’t. I don’t want to know that anymore. Instead, I say, “Thank you,” for many things. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for remaining patient. Thank you for saving my life.
My breaths fall in line with his, each comforting me in a sweet and intangible rhythm. A certain memory resurfaces, unprovoked, from the depths of my mind, from the cold, dark infirmary within the Distribution hall. From the doctor’s cracked lips as he suspended water tantalizingly over my mouth,
“Do you truly think that if you lived a free life you would give your blood to a vampire in need? Even if it left you bed-ridden for a few hours, could you find yourself selfless enough to do so?”
My brows furrow slightly.
“…Yes,” I think to myself with a completely altered state of reasoning. “If Zein is the recipient, I would.”
chapter 15
When the chariot hits the ground to charter the last of the trip by land, Zein rises and takes his leave from the main cabin.
“I need to inform Narref of the procedures from here forward. I will return shortly.”
I sit up and examine the cabin more thoroughly, anxious to find a window or something of the sort. A narrow, though long, metal handle hangs inconspicuously above my head on the wall, attached to a plank that seems cut off from the rest. Aha.
I push the plank to the left, and it slides across the smooth wood, opening the cabin to an effervescent dawn. Once my eyes adjust to the refreshing rays, I take in the rounded green mountains in the distance, cluttered with hundreds of acres full of thousands of red and orange maples at their bases. Lush. Lively. Not at all like the blackened grey tunnels that suddenly envelop the chariot.
The long passageways are drilled through the mountainside and are manned sporadically with soldiers—though they are much more sinister than the ones at Zein’s castle. Black leather and scathed armor from head to foot, and obscenely long, open-jawed masks with jewel-encrusted eyes. The entire ensemble creates a terrifying contortion of a demon’s face, like an inane monster laughing over a mutilated carcass.
The exit to the tunnels reveals several rows of the same soldiers with the same deranged masks. Every one of them has an arm crossed over his heart, and a face turned downward while our convoy passes through. Showing their respect for Zein, no doubt. Beyond them is a girth of cityscape made from painted, galvanized steel and chiseled, dying brick. Glass windows are covered with thick black curtains—shaming the sunlight—while large diamond street-lanterns still needlessly flicker a dim blue over the tar-black concrete.
The rows of guards start to seem endless, like a consistent, recurring pattern, a cyclical picture, until one fine detail mars the uniformity. A mask, rather than turned down toward the ground, is turned lopsided in my direction. Looking straight at me, even swiveling to follow my eyes as the chariot advances past. Out of instant, and irrepressible fear, I shut the paneled window. As the plank locks back into place, the sectional door to the cabin slams open and I jump.
Zein is standing there. “What happened?”
“Huh?”
He narrows his eyes. “Your scent spiked.”
I forgot that he had the typical vampire ability to sense fear. “I was looking out the window and—”
“Leave the windows closed.” He glances to the now-shut panel, and then back to me.
“Remember that I have a reputation to protect. I cannot have anyone s
eeing you in my personal cabin.”
“Right,” I say as cold reality smacks me in the face.
Zein changes the subject. “Once we arrive, Ceti will come to dress you. Until then, sit still.”
“Okay,” I say a bit too shortly.
Zein closes the door again, resuming the business he evidently has on the other side.
Eventually we stop and Ceti enters the chariot. A pastel purple dress, covered by a white silken robe that scatters the floor, drapes over the thin vampire. She walks toward me with passion, every step calculated and fluid, like every movement of her life is driven by music.
“Hello, my love! What an honor to be in Isshar, isn’t it?”
I smile and nod at her good-spirit while replacing a few loosened strands of hair behind my ear. “How was the journey for you, Ceti?”
“Honestly, pretty dull, but I cannot complain,” she admits as she carries a set of robes toward me. “I always love attending Isshar’s banquets.”
“Are they fun?” I stand and reluctantly allow Ceti to untie my robes.
“Oh, most certainly! Not for the council during their conferences, of course, but the meals and recreation gives us servants a nice change of pace. Supply units too, I suppose!”
“I suppose,” I parrot as my castle attire falls to the floor.
She smiles—long lips the color of her dress—as she layers me up. “These ceremonial robes are very special, Wavorly. It is imperative that you do not remove any articles while you are outside of Amaorin’s castle.”
That’s right. Isshar is the capital of Cain, and its province is protected by Amaorin—the most highly regarded of the five rulers.
The robes are something of a different world. Brilliant, crimson red silk with rubies accentuating the length of the remarkable embroidery. The pyramid-cut crystals fan down and across the breadth of my back and arms, while the masterful stitching cradles each jewel in swirls of gold leaves and branches—like a tree holding precious fruit. A crimson ribbon, much like the one at Zein’s castle, is tied around my neck, hiding the puncture scars as to “alleviate temptation from others who covet my blood,” according to Ceti—which makes me scowl. Upon my scalp, she places a bronze headband, decorated with pearls and metal fronds—like an olive branch—with a dark red veil attached that reaches from ear to ear, falling to the middle of my neck. The only opening is in the eyes.
“Tradition speaks within the hearts of our citizens, Wavorly. Until you enter the castle, no one is allowed to see your face.”
My heart skips a beat when I think of the masked soldier who had watched me through the window as we passed in the chariot. Had he seen my face?
“Wavorly?” she questions.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good,” she says, analyzing her work. “I want you to know that I will take care to ensure nothing will happen to you here. You will be safe, from all sides.”
I smile. “Thank you Madam Ceti.”
“Now, let’s go find your friends. Lord Zein has already left to prepare for the entrance ceremony.”
We step outside, well, barely. The gilded shoes I am required to wear make me about six inches taller, which all but guarantees complications. The other supply units are farther down the line, as well as a separate party of advisors and servants that consist of no one I recognize except for Narref and Gemini. The human girls talk among themselves until Glera notices me.
“Hey Wavorly,” she says, turning the group’s attention to me. They all seem to smile behind their veils except for Anaya. Even Gemini and Narref acknowledge my presence.
“Hi,” I reply as Savvy runs over.
She is as beautiful as always, and her new ceremonial robes only add to that trait.
“I was hoping to talk to you while in flight, but of course you had to be put into a different chariot!” Savvy grumbles when she hugs me, causing me to nearly fall over. These damned shoes.
“…I have something to tell you,” she cuts her voice to a whisper.
I’m taken aback but I respond beneath my breath. “Me too.”
The rest of the group breaks into our huddle. Savvy and I quickly avert our attention. Whatever she has to say, she wants only me to hear, which isn’t at all like her.
“Now that you’re here,” Anaya mutters, avoiding eye contact with me all while clearing her throat and crossing her arms. “For everyone who hasn’t been summoned to Isshar before, this is the blockade for the supply unit and servant entrance into the Castle of Cain.”
She points disinterestedly upward, over four tall muraled walls that encompass us, and out toward the structure in the near distance. The magnificent castle is large enough to see even from behind the blockade. Twists of stairways that lead to several floors, windows, and pointed buttresses are scattered uniformly across the horizon. And at the very top, in the middle of two fortified towers is a gigantic, steel rendition of Cain’s emblem: the upside-down triangle with a diamond-like crystal on its plane.
“We are about to enter through here.” She motions to a cellar-like tunnel entrance at the far end of our enclosure. It reminds me briefly of the one from my house in France.
“It’s a half mile walk to get into the Basilica, where thousands of vampires have gathered to watch the five leaders enter. We will line up and wait for Lord Zein to pass through and once he does, we are to follow closely behind him.”
We all nod with understanding.
Anaya turns to the huddled group of vampire advisors. “Master Gemini, Narref, and Ceti, we are all present and ready at your convenience.”
“Good, let’s go then.” Narref takes the lead.
The walk through the tunnel is tiresome but filled with refreshing social interaction. Over the last month I have really started enjoying being around these select people. Well, Savvy, Katarii, Glera, and Emi, that is. Anaya has purposely placed distance between herself and us—even Emi—staying close to Ceti and the other vampires.
“Are you all right?” Glera asks me from my left, her voice muffled by her veil.
“I don’t know,” I say, “but I will figure it out.”
She blinks quizzically at me as I trot ahead until I’m walking next to Anaya.
“Can we—” is all I can manage before she interrupts.
“Don’t waste your time.”
“Just listen?” I retort, expecting her to go off but she keeps walking, her focus straight ahead. It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to cause a scene in front of Zein’s advisors. However, I couldn’t care less if I do.
“I know we have our differences. You don’t like me and I don’t like you,” I say, surveying her body language which hasn’t altered one bit. “But can we at least acknowledge that we are in the same situation? That we both are here to serve Lord Zein and that’s it?”
She raises her eyebrows. Then she chuckles and shakes her head. “It must be nice to be the favorite, and to have not a care in the world. Like making your peace with me here is all that it’ll take for you to be able to sleep again.”
Anaya turns her blazing oceanic eyes to me, “Soon I will be sent to the breeding houses. It’s a duty that I will welcome if it is my honorable Lord Zein’s wish. I don’t expect you, someone so young and full of ideals, to understand why I hate you for things that we cannot control.”
“Who says we can’t?” I reply, trying not to dwell on the despair in her voice.
Maybe Zein wouldn’t send Anaya to the breeding houses, either and just suffer the penalties. Then again… she was most likely purchased from Saya.
“I never wanted to come here or be summoned. Isn’t there some way for us to find common ground?” I ask.
She lowers her face to mine, wearing a hateful smile. “Oh, really? How about now? Do you still lack the desire to be Lord Zein’s supply unit?”
Her question sparks a level of fright within me.
“…If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be anyone’s anything,” I finally say, but it’s not quick en
ough, and Anaya laughs.
“Being human is a pain, isn’t it? Emotions and all,” she murmurs. “We never know what we truly want until we are stripped of everything that made us who we are.”
I wonder for a second if she was ever brainwashed by Saya, saying such profound things. Or maybe, it’s because of her age. Her tone becomes more serious again. “I hate you because of circumstances out of my control. It’s nothing personal. But unfortunately, I don’t have the ability to turn it off.”
I nod, licking my lips, suddenly consumed by rejection.
“I understand,” I lie.
“We will find common ground once we are both burned and strewn upon the dirt of the Norse Wood in Saya… after we’ve had many years of bearing children that we will never meet, sired by fathers of whom we will never know. But until that final day, stay away from me.”
Now I know, and it hurts me to acknowledge it… that Anaya is as smart as she is beautiful, and as beautiful as she is doomed.
✽✽✽
My fingers grow numb as they curl into themselves, seeking warmth. The summer air leaves fast in Cain, signaling the transition to fall. A third wave of soldiers finish their passing, raising their spears overhead to signify their allegiance to the five council members, the rulers of the Stratocracy of Cain: Reginald Amaorin, Marina Schovir, Trovier Tsala, Hox Giomar, and Anton Zein.
Half of the crowd outside the electric gates of the castle’s Basilica is shouting whoops of support and patriotism, while the other half is condemning Abethos, encouraging war. Another handful is causing a commotion about the next heir, some sort of political riot. My eyes scan the tops of my brows, across the way. Similarly dressed supply units—though different in veil and cloth color—are also bowed. Amethyst, gold, emerald, and sapphire surround our ruby. My eyes scan a bit too high and suddenly I am met with a pair of light, caramel eyes. He has a head of short, ash blond hair, but that’s all I can tell thanks to the yellow—more masculine—veil that is tied around the back of his head. One of Marina’s supply units.
