by Kelsey Quick
One out of a dozen forward facing guards turns his head down to me and fear immediately streaks through my veins—a reminder of the one who saw me as we were arriving in the chariot.
“What’s wrong?” Narref whispers from behind me.
Damn their ability to scent fear.
“Nothing. I thought I saw a wasp,” I say, making up the best excuse I can on the spot.
I can feel his eyes roll as he steps back in line.
The masked soldier returns to his about-face position as trumpets sound, signifying the arrival of Cain’s regal rulers. The crowd surrounding the canopy-covered Basilica don cloaks of black, holding tight to open umbrellas—to purge the sunlight—while diluting their chatter to respectful silence. Calming, yet sinister, a row of string instruments play as Amaorin steps out of a Basten-drawn carriage, garnering hundreds of thousands of bows from the vampires that he rules. Reginald Amaorin is tall with thick, though tame, muddy hair. His sharp, golden eyes reflect the burning, enchanted blue lanterns beneath the canopy as he passes through the entranceway. A sapphire-encrusted shawl drapes the length of his back. The sapphire supply units and respected advisors rise to follow Amaorin, seamlessly.
Next is Marina Schovir who walks more nobly, her gaze trotting around to take in her subjects with a practiced smile. She is beautiful. A dark, blemish-free face, like a doll, with long legs and a thin—though muscular—build. Her wavy, auburn hair jots back and forth across her lower back as she walks upon heeled boots higher than mine. The golden shawl upon her shoulders shimmers with specks of glittery gold, while her armored body glints blue upon immaculate white. Her supply units and advisors also rise to follow when she passes. The boy from before stands to walk into the lustrous castle, offering me one last glance. And something in that glance sends my heart through my rib cage, but I can’t quite place it. A melancholic knife pierces my gut for a second, sending a wave of sadness through me. Tsala passes through my line of sight and I quickly return my gaze to the ground.
Trovier Tsala is an interesting individual, and rather round for most vampires. A bit older, he walks in behind Marina prestigiously with his hands locked behind his back, nose in the air, and bothering to glance toward his people only once or twice. His white slacks glimmer purely beneath black leather straps and belts. A creamy vest covering a hunter green collared shirt is nearly hidden by the emerald shawl. As he strides past, the green vassals stand in pursuit.
When Amethyst bearing, tattooed and disheveled, Hox Giomar comes strutting down the lane proudly, I throw a hand out to grab Savvy’s. As I suspected, she’s shaking. If vampires didn’t have such phenomenal hearing I would whisper, “Dodged a bullet with that lard.” Despite my history of idiotic comments, I keep quiet and console my friend with a light squeeze. Giomar glances down at me but makes no indication of recognition. That doesn’t fool me, though. He is probably furious and that brings me so much raw happiness.
Narref, having noticed my following eyes, reprimands me with a tap on the shoulder. I drop my head back down as Zein appears. His gaze is solid—aimed straight ahead—until he gets to me. He offers one look in my direction before his eyes shift back to the soldiers and castle doors ahead of him. My tired heart throbs for this man against half of my will. As I get up with the rest of Zein’s assembly to follow him, I curse beneath my breath. I curse because everything about him—his stride, his elegance, his very nature—all invite me in, even though all I’ve ever wanted—until now—is out.
chapter 16
As soon as we get inside, we are immediately separated from royalty, as well as most of the advisor vampires. I suppose all that nonsense at the Basilica was for show. Ceti now leads us—adjacent to the other supply unit groups and their assigned escorts—up a few corridors and stairwells to “The Hold”—where the supply quarters are, located in one of the two iconic towers of the castle. For close proximity to the royalty, I would guess.
Surprisingly enough, the male and female supply units all reside in close quarters, with but one sandy stone wall and an open doorway separating the two. Anaya answers Emi’s question on the suggestive nature of such a close space, stating that by this point most supply units know not to do anything stupid, and if they do, they are reprimanded to the highest offense.
Glera, Katarii, Savvy, and I walk across the stone floor to locate our assigned mats for sleeping.
“Hurry up and find your bed and drop your veil.” Ceti sings across the entire room to us girls in red. “You have five minutes to refresh and then we will head to the grand hall. Make sure you look your best or you will be sorely punished.” Hearing Ceti, of all vampires, warble the word ‘punished’ isn’t exactly all that intimidating.
After we find our beds, Anaya walks past us toward another downward staircase hidden in the corner. She turns to us. “This way to freshen up for the banquet.”
So apparently the banquets here allow humans to attend? This is going to be an interesting night. I’m not the only one who has no idea what’s going on. All but Anaya and Emi stand at a total loss.
“Come on.” Emi snickers at our confusion, trotting ahead with a compact lacquer box in hand. “We’ll help you.”
Katarii, Savvy, Glera, and I take turns shifting our eyes to one another before we reluctantly follow. The bathhouse is small, yet tranquil. The walls are lined with pure, ivory ceramic, painted elegantly with the impressionistic assumptions of beautiful women—talking and pouring buckets of water over their heads amidst bathing. The faint traces of human happiness glisten upon the painted women’s upturned lips. Every inch of their bodies, the trees in the background, the buckets of water—the walls—drip with steam from the baths in the room. The air is rich with citrus and clover-flavored humidity. I cough a little as Emi and Anaya lead us into a segmented space where the toilet troughs and vanities are located. Surprisingly, the troughs are immaculate. Stained, but clean. Amaorin must really want to make an impression if he’s coddling his guests’ supply units.
“Here,” Anaya says to no one in particular, setting up in front of a vanity next to one that is already lined with the sapphire supply units.
“Ew,” one of them half whispers to her comrades while eyeing Anaya. “She’s still here? Shouldn’t she be in the South getting bred already?”
I raise my eyes to the culprit as her blue minions chuckle. She is tall and beautiful—like most chosen supply units. Her eyes are plastered with makeup and adhesive gems, though her veil remains. Her hips and bust are twice that of her waist, and a Laisse chain hanging loosely across her neck—which tells me all I need to know.
“What…?” Glera mumbles with irritation, speaking too low for them to hear, while Savvy and Katarii glower at the group of girls.
Anaya merely studies the lacquer box that Emi places before her, taking extra time to undo the latches.
“Amaorin’s girls…,” Emi scoffs in a whisper, “...don’t listen to them.”
“Well, maybe Lord Zein is doing the rest of the vampires a service by keeping her genes out of circulation?” a snotty black-haired one remarks ‘under her breath.’ “I mean, look at her face…”
My heart burns for Anaya’s sake, and it really shouldn’t. But, there’s something about me and her wearing this burning red color—our warm, unifying ruby against their cold sapphire that makes her kin. This small similarity makes her problems my own.
“Or perhaps she’s sneaking vials of blood to his advisors for a good word?” the cheeky leader snorts.
“Really?” I say, stepping in to square them up.
Savvy puts a hand on my shoulder. “Wave, I wouldn’t. What if it reaches Lord Zein?” she says as Glera straightens herself behind me.
“If anyone could get away with it, it would be her,” I hear Glera say to Savvy. She’s not wrong.
“Oh?” Cheeky Leader raises her hand to her face, contemplative, as her condescending eyes dance over me. “And what is this thing? Could you even be considered a supply unit? That hair
and face—?”
I cut her off by grabbing her blue-ribboned neck and push her into a nearby wall. She gasps and writhes, staring at me as if I’m the devil himself—like I’m possessed by some otherworldly being. Girls aren’t used to other girls responding with their strength. I pull a hand back to lift the Laisse chain out from my own robes, displaying it while holding her against the wall.
“Let me finish for you,” I say, years of pent up frustration finally unleashing themselves. “I’m not pretty, tall, or well-mannered, but I’m still here, aren’t I? And her?” I nod my head in Anaya’s direction. “She’s not young… but she’s still here, isn’t she?”
Cheeky Leader hunkers against the wall, wide-eyed and horrified.
“You, however…,” I say, giving her the once over. “…you are an hourglass holding little sand.” I lean in closer as her henchmen step farther away, eyeing me like I have the plague.
“I could break your face right now with one hit. How long do you think Lord Amaorin will tolerate a unit with half a face in his seraglio?”
Her lips curl angrily. “You wouldn’t dare, I’d make sure—”
“Try me,” I interrupt while raising an eyebrow. Glera’s hand brushes my hip, offering back-up.
I give Amaorin’s lead a chance to run, and she does. Within seconds, Cheeky is rushing upstairs with the rest of her troop, leaving the bathhouse empty and silent for now. I glance to all the girls. “So how do we do this makeup thing?”
Glera throws her arm around my shoulder, while Katarii and Savvy reprimand me for overdoing it. Emi laughs, while Anaya gives me a single, yet novel glance: neutrality. She picks up a horse-hair brush and some powder.
“Well, you first, then,” she says to me.
chapter 17
“Alright, file in now. A straight line,” Ceti coos to us, leading us back through the hall. She intertwines her fingers rhythmically, moving them back and forth as if she’s dancing to a song. “Please follow the directions of Master Narref and Master Gemini upon entrance to the grand hall. Do all you can to listen to directions and take care to not misrepresent our lord.”
“Yes, Madam,” we all say in unison. Other supply lines filter in as well. Giomar’s and Zein’s girls are donned in make-up while the others, including Marina’s boys, remain veiled. It must be some sort of servant custom in their specific provinces, too.
We round the corner into a wide berth of a hallway lined with many more soldiers, all of which are wearing the same strange, demonic masks. I focus on the ground so I don’t have to dwell on their unsettling presence.
“Heads bowed,” Ceti chimes, and we all obey.
Soon, we pass the rows of soldiers who give way to a room of more elite-looking vampires. The ladies wear large jewels upon their necks and ears, velvet corsets, silk gloves, thick furs upon their shoulders, and narrowly whittled heels beneath their feet. Male, and even some female companions stand at the side of each, listening to their muses exchange cordial small talk in various dialects while they drink either real or synthetic blood from crystal goblets. The men wear button up shirts with thick, embroidered vests and slacks—complete with suspenders. All watch us as we pass before they return to their talks. They must be guests from other castles or cities of Cain.
We sail past two more huge doors which lead us into the grand hall, dully lit by huge cast-iron lanterns that hang from the ceiling. I do a once over of the room, noticing the brown marble walls stitched with lines of shimmering silver embedded within their well-crafted seams; the long, tireless tables full of food and china that stretch out along the back corners; the gigantic floor space in the center that is composed entirely of mosaic glass. Breath-taking, really.
I naturally rest my eyes on one of the raised tables in the back, where the five royal members are. Zein is seated on the far right with a watchful Narref standing behind him. I catch Zein staring at me from above a hand that strokes a pointed chin and tightened lips. Strangely, he makes no move to hide his eye contact, alighting a nervous fire within me. I’m the one to finally look away once Hox Giomar—to Zein’s left—finds me in his sight as well, the two discussing something unknown, but if I had to guess...
I avert my attention to Savvy, who is directly in front of me.
“You are so beautiful, Wavorly. Even he can see it,” she murmurs.
I snort at the humor of that insinuation, until I see Savvy’s face.
“Savvy.” I tug on her sleeve as she brushes at her face with her hand. She’s crying!
“You can’t cry here, they will scent it,” I whisper urgently, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “You are worth more than their opinion of you… than his opinion of you.” Knowing she cares about Giomar’s opinion of her is enough to make me sick.
“Listen to me on this. If it weren’t for you I would have given up on myself a long time ago. You have value outside of the vampires.”
She whips her face to me and I’m met with a harsh, incredulous glower. “Easy for you to say now, I bet.”
“What?” I release my grip on her hand and grab her forearm, tightly. “I’ve always been this way. Even back before Zein started…”
She jerks her arm away, and glares at me. “It’s Lord Zein. Especially around here.”
Did she really…?
She turns back and continues forward, saying nothing.
I clench my jaw and grab her arm again, whispering, “Is it too much of a stretch for you? To acknowledge that you may actually have some worth outside of their agenda? Outside of this?” I draw in a heavy breath. “In the future, I would rather you say how upset my special treatment makes you feel instead of snapping at me. One Anaya is enough.” I throw her arm down and she keeps walking, as if she never heard me. I blink away the anger, barely.
All the ruby supply units are led into one of five narrow spaces, literally caged from sight by stained-glass panels and a single, marble bench. There are openings on either side of the human crate, each guarded by an associate of the lord who owns the cargo. For our particular cage, the entrance side is manned by Ceti, while the exit side is manned by Gemini. Only a single, narrow opening in the glass allows us the ability to see out.
As we file in, Gemini shoots me a peculiar look. At least, I assume it’s me. But I disregard it, sitting on the bench as he returns his attention back to the center of the room, where serenely instrumental music plays and vampires—from all across Cain—glide across the stained glass to dance. Zein’s attention has shifted to Marina Schovir who seems to have made her way down the table to talk to him. The sway and angle of her body as she rests her weight on the table, as well as Zein’s particular engagement in their conversation, drains all of my fresh confidence I had acquired from the make-up—leaving only a pit of insecurity swirling in my gut.
“I’m sorry,” Savvy states softly from my side.
My whole body releases a built-up tension I didn’t even know was there at the sound of her calm voice.
“I didn’t mean to come off so… horrible. You are right. It’s hard for me to see past this one failure—of not becoming a worthy supply unit.” She blinks her pause. “Worthy of attention. Worthy of nourishment. Anything really, it would’ve been nice.”
“I understand. But it’s not your purpose for living. Trust me on that.”
She nods uneasily, and seems to understand. More than ever, I want to tell Savvy the truth. That she’s a product of Saya’s guarantee to provide submissive and endearing service. That they filled her mind with images, with ideals, crammed it in every learning corner of her early childhood to make her this fragile, and with a one-track mind. But then, if I told her and she believed me, she wouldn’t feel like a real person anymore. Like everything she is was manufactured to a standard, devoid of individuality. For one of only a handful of times, I stay quiet.
“I haven’t told you what I’ve been needing to, but I will later,” Savvy says. “I may not be there yet, but I’m trying to see past my shortcomings. It doe
sn’t make moments like this, where I’m surrounded by actual supply units, any less hard.”
I nod. “I’m sorry. I know how that is… all too well.”
“We can—” she starts but is cut off by a booming voice that originates from the grand hall floor. The owner of it is a tall, well-dressed, and a surprisingly scrawny vampire.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Castle of Isshar. Before we get started with matters of business and relations, Lord Reginald Amaorin, as well as the Elders, would like to preface such stresses with times of fun and fellowship. Please enjoy the music and meals provided, and limit yourselves to your own supply units, or synthetics, for drink and pour. Again, on behalf of the Elders and Lord Amaorin, welcome to Isshar.”
Low claps ricochet across the hall, from the handfuls of elites along the open floor to the raised tables that support the five leaders and their consorts. Lord Amaorin, in his beaming sapphire glory, stands to accept the applause. The ‘Elders’, I deduce, are not present.
It is times such as these that I question the true hierarchy of the vampires. Though I have heard and read of them here or there, I have never been able to stumble across a picture of all—or even one—of the Elders. I imagine them to be really old; very wrinkly with long trains of beards, dressed like the gods of the universe. That’s how I’ve always pictured them in my mind, even though the forbidden books depict their countenances to be the physical manifestations of despair and fear. However, for me, and those like me, the Elders exist behind a curtain. Beyond this reality, separated by a thin mask of censorship. And the five rulers—the leaders of Cain’s military—are the only ones that get to pull it back to do their bidding.
“Wavorly,” Gemini’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “Come.”
I start to raise a single eyebrow when Katarii, on my left, whispers, “Lord Zein is requesting you.”
My eyes shift from cage to cage where the other leaders’ supply units are housed, noticing as one human per leader exits to walk out toward the raised tables. Without hesitation I stand and maneuver around the other girls toward Gemini’s station. I pass Anaya, who keeps her head down, and I pass Glera and Emi, who give me a small nod.
