by Tanith Frost
I’ve gone from porcelain doll to warrior queen. The dress supports now instead of confining, and the fabric passing over my shoulder feels like the strap on a quiver of arrows. I did my own hair and makeup tonight against Paige’s protestations, styling both to reflect this new Ava—high ponytail with my hair teased in front like the raised hackles of a dog, black eyeshadow, and pale lips.
It’s only the spindly heeled shoes I couldn’t get rid of. They’re inconvenient, but even I’ll admit they make my legs look astonishing. There’s a time and a place for them, I guess, but I’ll be ditching them as soon as I can.
“I think he’ll like it,” Bethany says, “though I don’t know whether he’ll appreciate you not giving him a heads-up. He’s not a fan of surprises.”
Randolph appears next to me. “Then we’ll make sure he knows it was my idea to play dress-up with her. We certainly needed some shaking up around here.” He wrinkles his nose at the rest of the vampires in the room. They’re all dressed similarly to how I was expected to, though each seems to be trying to stand out in his or her own way—outlandish waistcoats under sombre suit jackets, daring necklines and plunging backs on the dresses, here and there a flash of bright colour. Randolph himself wears what could be mistaken for a vintage morning suit if not for the dove-white wings embroidered on the back of his jacket and his polished black combat boots.
We’re certainly making statements, he and I. I’m not sure I understand the message behind his, but at least he seems to be enjoying the looks we’re getting from others.
They could be forgiven for not noticing us, though. I even forget my own attire as I wander away from Bethany and Randolph’s conversation. The room has been transformed into a midnight dream, the ceiling glittering with enough tiny electric lights that it could be mistaken at first glance for the star-filled sky itself. What was a pleasant garden under harsher light is now a mysterious landscape. The red rose blossoms, so full and heavy that they look as if they’d bleed if pricked with a needle, look black in the darkness. The trees stand like sentinels watching over beds of vines and shrubs that seem wilder in this darkness than they did in the light. Vampires wander the paths in pairs, speaking quietly, flirting, eyeing the humans who offer their bared flesh to those who wish to feed.
I feel Lachlan before I see him. He’s speaking to a handsome young vampire who seems to be hanging on his every word. Lachlan smiles at something he says, but his eyes are on me. He doesn’t motion for me to wait. He doesn’t have to. I know what’s expected, and I know how bad it would look for me to disappear without acknowledging him.
“Ava,” he says after he’s excused himself from his conversation, leaving the other vampire glaring daggers at me. “You look ravishing. Not at all what I anticipated.”
I smooth my skirt over my hips. “I hoped it would be a pleasant surprise.”
“It is, indeed.” He doesn’t try to disguise the hunger in his gaze as he steps back and fixes it on my thighs. “And I experience so few that are truly pleasant.”
I bite my lip and look away, playing my role, leaning into words that will come dangerously close to untruth. “I’m sorry if I pried last night. Whatever you were upset about, I just—”
“No need to apologize. In fact, I…” His words trail off, and for a moment he looks uncomfortable in a way I’ve never seen him. “I may have reacted more strongly than was strictly necessary given the circumstances. Things are going to be tense around here for a while, but it’s all necessary for us to create the world I’ve promised you.”
Not an apology, but probably the closest anyone’s come to receiving from him in a long time. I’m instantly on my guard. I don’t think he regrets anything he said or did. He enjoyed my fear and confusion last night. He’s trying to make amends, though.
If only I thought it was for my sake rather than to further his own agenda.
“I understand,” I say. “I mean, I can’t really, but I do regret questioning you. You obviously have things under control. You’ll tell me when you need me?”
“I will.” His gaze wanders over my body again. I feel like a cow on the auction block. “Make sure you feed. You’ll want your strength later.”
I smile as though the salacious note in his voice pleases me, last night’s threats forgotten. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”
“Very good.” He frowns as he catches sight of someone else waiting to talk to him. “Duty calls.”
As if I give a fuck.
I don’t say anything else. There’s nothing I could offer that would please him and not be a lie. I do manage to not glare icy daggers at his back as he leaves.
I’ve put in my appearance. Lachlan seems to be done with me for now, and Bethany’s engaged in what looks to be an intense conversation with three other vampires. There are eyes on me, though. Too many for me to escape unnoticed.
A human male passes by. He’s dressed up, but not to the level of the vampires—his white shirt is open at the throat, his sleeves rolled up, his black tie hanging loose around his neck. His neck has been pierced by a pair of fangs tonight, as has one of his forearms. Blood drips slowly from the wounds. I shouldn’t be hungry, but the scent of him is enough to make my mouth water.
He takes a timid step toward me and offers his untouched wrist.
I look him over again. He looks tired, drained and glassy-eyed. “You should rest,” I tell him.
“No, I’m fine.” He glances past me before his unfocused gaze rests on my face. “I haven’t been excused yet. You just have to stop if I—” He stumbles forward.
I catch him by the arm and hold him up. “If you pass out?”
“Yeah.”
So trusting. He’s either unaware of what goes on here behind closed doors or has decided not to worry about it until he has to.
I glance around the garden, then guide him toward a table in a back corner where someone has laid out food for the humans—cakes, fruits, and a creation of spun sugar that towers over the rest of it like futuristic architecture.
Tempest may be getting a lot of things wrong, as far as I’m concerned, but not all of it. Maybe someday Maelstrom will have this level of fun and decadence to go along with our hard work.
We pass another human clasped tight in the arms of a vampire with her lips clamped to the woman’s throat. No need for privacy or secrecy here tonight. Maybe that’s why this one feels so confident in his safety.
“I’ll feed if you promise to as well,” I tell him. He nods, and I raise his wrist to my mouth. I press my fangs against the skin of his forearm, savouring the resistance before I break through. Feeding in the open like this feels strange, but it doesn’t feel shameful. I close my eyes and let myself be consumed for a moment by this pleasure that never grows dull no matter how often I experience it. Even this human, weak as he is, brings satisfaction tonight. I’m not starving or even hungry. This is about the taste, not the strength, and it is delightful.
Not too much, though. He’s still able to stand on his own when I release him. Just barely.
“Go, now,” I tell him, and turn away. But I give him the slightest push toward the food, upsetting his already precarious balance.
I’m three paces away before I hear the crash behind me as he collides with the table. Dishes clatter to the ground, someone shouts about her dress, someone else laughs. I glance back. Other humans are helping the man to his feet. He looks embarrassed, but not hurt.
I’m sure I owe him an apology, or at least thanks. Everyone’s eyes are on him, the table, or whoever they’re trying to help get cleaned up.
No one seems to notice as I make my way out the door.
The corridors in this part of the facility are empty, and my shoes click over the floors. They could draw attention, but I don’t want to remove them yet—not when someone could spot me. I can’t let it look as if I’m sneaking around. Only when I’ve reached the relative safety of the servants’ corridor do I slip them off.
There are humans around tonig
ht, but they won’t dare question me. And I’m hoping that by the time anything gets reported back to Lachlan, Daniel and I will have accomplished our mission.
I don’t see him when I reach the door to Bethany’s workroom, so I look both ways, slide the door open, and enter. The room is pitch dark and feels empty. I know Daniel’s probably here somewhere, but it still startles me when he touches my arm.
“You made it,” he says, relief clear in his voice. “Is everyone occupied?”
“For now, but I don’t know how long they’ll hold Bethany’s attention. She seems to have a lot on her plate right now.”
“Then we should go.” He steps into the lighted corridor. “Confidently, now. If we’re seen together, it’s best if—”
“If no one thinks we’re sneaking around. I know.”
Daniel’s eyes widen. “Wow.”
“Oh, yeah.” I tug at the front of my skirt. “Silly thing to wear for an evening of espionage, I know, but easier to move in than a ball gown. I didn’t have time to change.”
He shakes his head. “Not silly. You look like… like a weapon.”
I lift my chin and stand straighter. It’s a fine compliment, spoken with great respect, but I’m done with being anyone’s tool. “The weapon and the soldier who wields it, thank you very much.”
A smile plays over his lips, and I think for a second that he wants to kiss me. It’s not lust that makes his eyes shine, though. I think it’s pride. “Damn right you are. Your enemies don’t stand a chance.”
We walk quickly but have to leave the safety of the servants’ passage before we get to the interrogation rooms. “This is as far as it goes,” Daniel says, speaking quietly. “They don’t allow humans down here, and with good reason.”
Whatever visible pleasure he took in my appearance a few minutes ago is gone. I don’t like the tightness around his eyes that’s replaced it. We’re as good as silent as we walk, and I relish the chill of the stones under my blessedly bare feet and the freedom of movement this new dress affords me.
“Hold on,” I tell him when we reach the junction and I sense a vampire presence ahead. We hang back until a security guard—looking bored, lonely, and pissed about missing the party he probably wasn’t invited to—passes and continues toward the waterfall.
He’s the only one, and as we walk in the other direction, I feel comfortable speaking in hushed tones. We pass by the cell where Bethany showed me her experiment that ended so badly. “How did you find this?” I ask.
“I followed my nose. Literally.” Daniel glances back over his shoulder at me, but his steps don’t slow. “I’d noticed that Bethany sometimes smelled strange when she was finished work—not like the herbs she uses in her workroom but like harsher chemicals. Brimstone, among other things. It was an aspect of her work she never talked about, so it seemed like a good starting place. But until you mentioned her doing work down here, I didn’t know where to look. I fed last night, came down, and I caught the scent.”
“And you found what, the gateway to hell itself?”
“Close enough. Is anyone coming?”
I close my eyes to focus on my perceptions better. “I’m not getting anything. But I don’t feel you, either.”
“Good. Now, it’s best if we’re quiet in here.” He pulls a keyring from his pocket and opens a heavy steel door, then motions for me to wait as he enters.
I’m not going to ask where he stole the keys from or what he thinks will happen if he doesn’t return them before anyone notices. That’s a risk he saw fit to take, and I’m not going to second-guess it. All I can do is make sure it pays off.
I peer into the room. The lighting is so dim as to be almost non-existent, coming from a fixture in the middle of the massive, circular room’s ceiling, right next to a steel vent cover. The blue light reflects off polished chrome surfaces below—tables, desks, sinks, a small refrigerator. A lone laptop computer rests on one of the tables. I’d hate to be the vampire who has to use it, but I guess technology is worth eye strain and a headache if it’s absolutely necessary and there are no humans around to do it for us.
And there it is—the smell. Sulphur-like, but lighter and sweeter, tinged with the heavy stink of sweat. Nauseating.
Daniel motions for me to follow him in, and I close the door behind me. As my eyes adjust to the low light, I pick up more of what lies in the shadows. The first things I spot are the neat rows of canisters lined up against the wall, marked “Oxygen” and “Propane” in the front row, god knows what else in the back. A shelf above holds glass bottles clearly marked “Ether.”
Maybe I only notice them first because I don’t want to see what’s taking up the rest of the wall space.
Clear plexiglass cell doors. There must be two dozen of them, each leading to an enclosed space beyond that offers barely enough room for its human occupant to lie down.
No one’s sleeping now, though. Some sit. Some stand listlessly. One watches with what almost seems like interest.
“Well?” Daniel asks.
My mouth has gone dry. It’s hard to speak, hard to even let myself think about what I’m seeing.
Daniel was right. Even as she showed me the results of her experiment, Bethany was lying to me. This is no small project in its early stages.
I look at the humans again, desperate to find that I’m wrong, but the terrible truth stares back at me from more than twenty pairs of flat, empty eyes.
“It’s gone,” I whisper. “All of their light… it’s gone.”
26
Daniel crosses his arms and nods toward the prisoners. “What does it mean? Why are they stockpiling humans they can’t even feed on?”
I force myself to look more closely at the lightless humans. Though they’re aware of us, most of them seem to be staring straight through me. Maybe that’s because they can’t see as well as we can in the dark, but it’s fucking creepy.
“Bethany said they’re aggressive toward vampires.” I step closer to the human who’s standing at his door. His eyes are as dead as what I see on the rest of them, his expression slack and unresponsive, but he’s definitely watching my movements. “But then what’s the plan? Sneak them into the Inferno and release them? They’re still only human, not an army fit to send against a clan of vampires.”
I can’t let empathy get to me now, when there’s so much to do and no way we can help these people. But I can’t help wondering, just for a moment, who this guy was before. Lachlan said himself that they don’t usually have humans born into slavery.
I wonder whether this one remembers. And whether Gracie could have been one of them if she hadn’t turned her life around—if the vampires of Tempest had thought she was safe to take for themselves because no one would notice she was gone.
I look around the room. Every one of them was somebody, once. A creature of life, and of light, even if they didn’t know it. They don’t deserve this.
Neither did any of the people I’ve killed. And one could argue that the free-roaming stock of Maelstrom deserve better than addiction, even if we offer pleasure as we slowly drain the life from them.
Maybe there is no good way for monsters and humans to coexist. We are darkness, horror, the nightmare that would wake them screaming every night if they knew the truth about us—I’ve seen this more clearly in myself over the past few nights than I ever have before. Whether we like it or not, we are the predators, they the prey.
But we have to do better than this. Even if better isn’t perfect, we’ve got to try.
I turn back to Daniel. “What do we do? This can’t be their secret weapon against Maelstrom, but we’re out of time. We have to focus on getting out so we’re not here when Lachlan finds out the truth about Viktor.”
He nods. “I agree. And incomplete information is far better than none at all. We know they’re planning to attack. That alone violates inter-clan treaty laws.”
“And what will happen then? Assuming we can prove anything.”
“I don�
��t know.” Daniel rubs a hand absently over the healing wound beneath his shirt. “Ideally, a tribunal involving the elders of a number of clans, though I don’t think it’s ever happened before. There’s no guarantee anyone would step in to help unless they thought Tempest could be a threat to them. Most clans think of Maelstrom as weak, thanks to Miranda’s refusal to deal properly with the werewolves. They might decide to sit back and watch the fireworks if they think she’s getting what she deserves.” He moves closer and looks down into my eyes. “But that’s for Miranda and Raymond to worry about. For now, you and I need to get the information back to them. That’s the entirety of our job. So let’s focus on figuring out how to make it happen.”
“Right. One step at a time.”
I’m about to ask whether he knows the way to the garage when a key clicks in the door.
I give Daniel a hard shove, and we dive behind the table farthest from the door. It’s got cardboard boxes stuffed with papers underneath that hide us from anyone who’s coming in, but that won’t do us any good if they decide to take a look around.
My hand finds Daniel’s, and he squeezes tight. I won’t cling to him. I’ll let go the moment we need to stand and fight. But now, when there’s nothing to do but wait, I feel stronger knowing we’re together in this.
The door opens, and someone steps in. I don’t dare try to look, and I can’t afford to use my gifts to feel them out—not when I’m trying so hard to keep quiet. I get enough, though.
Whoever it is, it’s not Bethany.
The lights brighten slightly. One of the humans groans.
“Quiet.” Male voice. Stern, but disinterested. “I’ll be out of here in thirty seconds. Believe me, I don’t want to be here any more than you do tonight.”
