I might be considered beautiful by some, except for my eyes. Those had never changed. Hadn't since my birth. My eyes had always been a deep, cobalt blue with barely a visible pupil, and they told me many things, most of which I had absolutely no desire to know.
"They're just too awful," one of my foster mothers claimed as she handed me back to the social worker when I was seven. She'd shuddered, too, making me feel small and ugly as the social worker took my hand and led me from the house. She'd been talking about my eyes, and her reaction wasn't the worst I'd experienced through the years.
I'd always been thin, so my clothing still fit. Except it wasn't my clothing. A few things had been culled from the Queen's closet and lent to me—things that didn't cost so much or had gone out of style. That's what I wore now as I did as my vampire sire instructed, walking down the marble hall toward the small office I'd been assigned. No, his compulsion didn't work, and that was out of the ordinary. Vampires, even King or Queen Vampires, were generally susceptible to their sire's compulsion. Only a few very rare ones weren't, and most of those were destroyed immediately, according to the records I'd read.
Those records came from many worlds, and they'd been written by many vampires at the direction of many Vampire Councils. Unmanageable vampires were often killed. Vampire children who disobeyed their vampire sires were harshly punished at the least, destroyed at the worst. As I had no desire to die on my first, pain-free day as a vampire, I went to my office to tend to assigned duties.
* * *
"You're the new one." I stared at the vampire standing inside my office. He hadn't been there before, and my curse informed me he was one of the Queen's assistants who'd been away on vacation when I arrived.
"I suppose I am." I lowered my eyes. I'd seen what he was with only a quick glance. No, he wasn't awful—he was a bit timid. He was also terrified of my sire—just as I was.
"I'm Grant. Heathe is out hunting Rigo down for a few signatures on paperwork."
"It's nice to meet you, Grant." I nodded briefly before sitting down at my desk. I'd almost gotten everything caught up before my arrest and subsequent beating. That had been fourteen days earlier. I'd lain in the dungeons, barely alive and in terrible pain for three days before Gavin came. Nobody thought to provide medical care or any comfort.
"I'm glad they cleared you of the charges, but Rathik got away."
"Yeah." I knew Rathik had gotten away—that's the other thing I'd seen in Grant's eyes—guilt. He'd hired Rathik after a hasty interview. I also saw what I hadn't known before in Grant's expression; I was supposed to have been paid. Rathik had stolen my salary and my credit chip. The credit chip had gotten me arrested for a murder I hadn't committed—Rathik scanned it to get inside a hotel to do the deed.
In fact, I hadn't left the palace the entire time I'd been a resident of Le-Ath Veronis. All I could think was that Skel Hawer was a piss-poor excuse for an ASD agent, and he'd almost killed me with his fists. I didn't know what happened to Skel Hawer, but I intended to find out. Eventually.
"Well, I'll just get to work, then," I nodded at Grant. Whatever I might have been paid before, there would be no paycheck now. Young vampires weren't allowed to earn money until their five-year training period was over. Before that, they were dependent upon a sire for their needs. After seeing Gavin's face when I woke as his vampire child, I wasn't expecting anything from him.
* * *
"Trev, he let him go." Kooper Griff shook his head.
"Norian let that murderous bastard get away with this?" Trevor schooled his face—his sire, now long-dead, would be ashamed of how much emotion Trevor had shown of late.
"Not only let him go, but allowed him to keep his job. He was demoted—one placement—and his name was changed so the media won't follow him around. He should be in jail." Kooper snorted.
"He should be charged with attempted murder," Trevor, vampire Sheriff for Casino City, growled in response. "How's the woman?"
"Made the turn, according to my sources at the palace."
"Then it's a miracle," Trevor sighed. "She should be dead after the beating Hawer handed out. The prick left her there for three days, hoping she'd go ahead and die, no doubt. I've spoken with Drake and Drew, but they're army and not palace guard. Those vampires who knew about this should have stopped it. I think I'll have a word with Flavio."
"Her new sire should be weighing in on this. He is over the palace guard."
"Gavin?" Trevor stared at Kooper in disbelief.
"Yes. That's the name I heard." Kooper sipped a hot drink from a recyclable cup he'd brought with him. He'd come to Trevor's office in Casino City—Trevor asked to be updated after handing information to Kooper. Kooper was off-planet on assignment when Hawer, who'd been left in charge of the local ASD office, abused his authority and exacted vengeance against an innocent woman.
Trevor cursed softly before asking his next question. "What happened to the real culprit? I haven't gotten anything since he disappeared from Erithia Cordan's casino."
"Probably light-years from here by now, under an assumed name," Kooper huffed. "Hawer let him get away while he was busy beating a helpless woman."
"Are you going to the palace soon? I'd like to know how she's doing."
"I'll probably go soon. I'll let you know."
"I'd appreciate it. Gavin isn't the easiest person to deal with, and I have no idea why he decided to turn someone now instead of asking one of the experienced vampires to take it."
"I'm worried he did it just to keep his palace guards out of hot water. No offense," Kooper held up a hand as Trevor started to protest, "but I know enough about compulsion to realize she can be ordered to keep her mouth shut."
"I hope you're wrong," Trevor muttered.
"I'll let you know about the woman." Kooper stood and stretched his tall frame. "Thanks for your help with this. If you hadn't notified us, we'd be looking at two murders instead of one."
"Yes," Trevor nodded. "I know."
* * *
Breanne's Journal
"Breanne, why did you refuse this request?" Grant was back and tapping a finger against his comp-vid. One of the small comesuli councils had requested funds for a new water cooler for their meeting chamber.
"Because they don't need it," I said, shaking my head. He thought I was being stupid and foolish—a water cooler was something any Council could request.
"Why wouldn't they need it?" Grant was prepared to be upset.
"Because they meet in the city's agriculture office, which already has a water cooler," I said. "They're asking for the money so they can put enough funding together to buy a solar-powered cart to drive in the harvest parade. I sent the money to the tree harvest council instead, so they can buy more chairs. Four of their members are currently sitting on the floor during meetings."
"How the hell do you know that?" Grant sifted through records on his comp-vid. He discovered quickly that the Council in question did indeed meet in the agriculture office, which already had a water cooler. The Crown had paid for the equipment; the records were easily accessible on Grant's comp-vid. The cooler was new, too—barely three months old.
"They sent a photograph with their request," I muttered. If they'd known with whom they were dealing, they'd never have done that. They wanted the Queen to see them, so they'd sent a photo.
"Unbelievable," Grant wandered toward the door.
"Yeah," I said, turning to other requests that had piled up during my absence.
* * *
"Look, we know you're upset because Lissa's gone. We are, too. Do you think we'd let any of ours get away with this?" Drew was angry. As angry as he'd been in a while, anyway. Gavin hadn't even spoken to the vampire guards who'd stood by while Breanne Hayworth was almost beaten to death. Then, they hadn't bothered to contact medical personnel, choosing to allow the woman to lie in the dungeon while her life slipped away.
"They were too afraid to call Hawer on it—he was left in charge of the agency on Le-Ath
Veronis," Gavin growled. "The girl turned. I can tell her to forget the whole thing if I want."
"Gavin, did I hear that come from your mouth? You're auxiliary Saa Thalarr, you know." Drake stood beside his brother, and both Falchani were angry.
"Look, I wasn't prepared for this. I was told to do it. That's all I can say at this time," Gavin snapped. "You think I wanted to make a turn? Do you? I'm saddled with a vampire child for five years, and I have no idea what Lissa will say when she gets back."
"Where's Aurelius?" Drew asked softly.
"With Reah. Where else would he be?" Gavin cursed softly. He could use his sire's help, and Aurelius wasn't available.
"Why don't you ask one of the others to help babysit, then?"
Because he doesn't like admitting he needs help, Drew sent to his brother. "Come on, bro, we have work to do," Drew said aloud and pulled his brother from Gavin's office.
"She's just a chit who happened to turn," Gavin growled as the Falchani twins walked away.
* * *
Kooper Griff rolled his shoulders to ease the tension collecting there after the solar car dropped him off at the palace's side entrance. This smaller, side door was the one used by servants, guards and other employees. Deliveries were made at another door farther down, which connected to the kitchen. Glancing up at the sky before sliding his wrist over the security scanner, Kooper knew the moon wasn't up yet but it would be soon. A full moon was approaching and he felt it already.
"Vice-Director," the palace guard stationed at the entrance nodded as Kooper slipped through the door, closing it behind him. Kooper Griff, Norian Keef's Second Vice-Director, nodded back at the guard and stalked with an easy, fluid grace past the vampire dressed in black and silver.
* * *
Breanne's Journal
"There's something you should know," Grant was back and looking uncomfortable again, only this time Heathe, the Queen's second assistant, stood at his elbow. Grant was dark-haired and green-eyed, whereas Heathe had medium-brown hair with stylish highlights. Heathe and Grant were gay and worried about letting me know that about them. I wished I could tell them to stop worrying—gay was normal.
"What should I know?" They were about to leave work for the day; I planned to keep working for another three hours. What did I have to go to if I did stop working? I had nothing on Le-Ath Veronis, and that included a vampire sire, who regretted my turning already.
"Well, at times," Grant began nervously.
"What Grant wants to say," Heathe continued Grant's statement, "is that at times the palace is guarded by wolves, snakes or other animals. They won't harm you or anyone else who belongs here."
"I get along with animals," I shrugged.
"Just don't try to do anything wrong," Grant warned.
"I haven't done anything wrong. I still got arrested," I muttered. Yes, it made me angry. How could I not be angry? The ASD filth who'd beaten me almost to death after my arrest didn't help, either.
"We, uh, feel bad about that," Grant backed away. He and Heathe had hired Rathik Erwin. Erwin was generally unsupervised, committed a heinous crime and got another arrested for it. All of that was because the Queen's assistants had gotten a last-minute good deal on a vacation somewhere. I wanted to blame them, but blame for me would have to go farther back than these two. Much, much farther.
"Enjoy your dinner," I turned away from them, then. They were hungry—my curse told me that. "I'll be sure to watch out for snakes and wolves."
* * *
Days on Le-Ath Veronis are divided into twenty-eight hours. Because of somebody's superstition, the thirteenth hour is called Moon Hour. The one that falls during what they count as day is called Noon Hour. I worked until Moon Hour, before lifting my comp-vid from the desk, waving off the solar lights and closing the door of my office behind me.
No, my sire hadn't come looking for me to answer questions. He also wasn't waiting and hadn't left a message on my comp-vid offering any information. I brushed my teeth, climbed into bed and fell asleep reading more information regarding how a newly turned vampire was expected to behave.
* * *
"Here." Gavin walked into my tiny office, making it feel much smaller than it actually was and making me feel smaller than I actually was. A new comp-vid was dropped onto my desk. I closed my eyes for a few moments, trying to ignore the images that came from reading my vampire sire. They were disturbing, those images. A woman was being beaten, only this woman was the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis. She'd been naked when the troll who'd beaten her carefully aimed his blows to maximize the damage.
"What is this?" I opened and lowered my eyes to get the images out of my mind.
"Information on how to conduct yourself during a Council meeting. We will be attending meetings, beginning next week. Read all of it." Gavin turned and stalked out of my office. Did one not expect a greeting from one's sire? Obviously not. The Vampire Council, which had taken a two-month hiatus, was ready to convene again; the news-vids were full of that information. Apparently, I was expected to go and I didn't want that.
My life had settled into a pattern for four weeks after my turning, and in that interval, I'd seen my vampire sire three times. The third time had been to drop the comp-vid I presently stared at onto my desk. Friendly could never be a word used to describe Gavin Montegue. Cold and insufferable might work, though. My life was about to become much more complicated, via Vampire Council meetings.
* * *
"What are you doing here?" He made the question sound familiar—as if he knew me. I didn't know him, and he was the most unusual man I'd ever met. No images appeared as I stared at him in surprise.
"Kooper Griff," he held out a hand.
"Mr. Griff," I took his hand in a light grip—it was the way things were done in the Reth Alliance.
"So, what are you doing here?" he asked again, settling on the padded bench beside me. Here was the arboretum, located beneath the central dome of the Queen's palace. Plants and rare trees thrived, grew and bloomed under artificial lights. It gave me an illusion of sunlight—something I was destined never to see again, thanks to Gavin Montegue.
"Enjoying fake sunlight while I read my latest assignment," I said, tapping the comp-vid Gavin dumped on my desk. It contained enough material to fill a library, and even had transcripts from many Council meetings. I was staring rudely at Kooper (and I knew it) while I answered his question. I had to forcibly close my mouth—I'd never met anyone before that I couldn't read as easily as the comp-vid in my hand.
Kooper Griff was very tall—probably six-seven or eight, with brown hair and golden-brown eyes. His mouth might be described as sensuous—I couldn't really say why I thought that. It was a blessing, too, to focus on his features (which were very nice) instead of what he'd done during his lifetime.
His hands, though, were what drew me away from his face. They were good hands. Large hands. With long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. He worked with those hands, though—I could tell. Calluses were evident on his palm and thumbs.
"Lifting weights and shooting practice." He'd caught me looking at his hands.
"Shooting?" I gaped at his face again. Guns frightened me. I'd had one waved in my face on several occasions, so how could they not frighten me?
"I work for the ASD."
He couldn't have shocked or upset me more if he'd thrown ice water in my face. "Excuse me." I rose from my seat to walk away. Skel Hawer was ASD, and he'd beaten me nearly to death.
"Don't leave," he caught my hand and pulled me back. "We're not all Skel Hawer." Golden-brown eyes pleaded with me to sit down again.
"I hope not," I muttered, staring at the hand that now gripped mine. His hand was quite strong, but I was vampire, now. I could have jerked away and ran. He wouldn't have caught me, either. I have no idea why I allowed him to pull me back to the bench.
"He was a trained professional. That wasn't what he was trained to do." Kooper held onto my hand. "The excuse I was given by my boss is that Skel was
in love with the victim and allowed his emotions to take over."
"He doesn't have the brains of a gnat and he's violent by nature. He'll do it again," I mumbled.
"You can't say that for certain."
"I can say it for certain," I said, standing again and pulling my hand away from his. "That's why I hope he stays in jail for a good, long while." I walked away, my shoes clicking determinedly on the stone floor of the arboretum. Kooper Griff never expected me to hear what he said as I walked away, but I did. My hearing is just as sharp as any vampire's.
"He's not in jail," Kooper Griff sighed.
Chapter 3
I got my first glimpse of a snake that night as I was leaving my bathroom after a shower. I'd stayed up late—Gavin had shown up in my office when I'd gone there after my meeting with Kooper Griff.
"Council meeting tomorrow morning," Gavin said. "We'll be at your suite at six bells." He left, then, just as he always did, without waiting for questions or providing further information. I was left wondering who we might be.
* * *
"Well, how did you get in here?" I asked. The snake (a very large one, with silver-gray scales patterned in black) lifted his head as I entered my bedroom. He had to be at least twenty feet in length and I had to step over a rather large midsection to get to the bed. He followed me (as much as a lengthy snake could), then dropped his head on the edge of my bed and blinked forlornly at me as I climbed in.
"Hey, you can blink. That's outstanding," I told him. He blinked again.
"You look sad," I said as he offered me the most pitiful look any snake was capable of giving. "What's wrong?" His head moved closer. I sat still and watched as he cautiously approached, until his head rested on my thigh. And then he blinked at me again.
"I'm probably going to regret this," I said, as I tentatively reached out and ran a gentle finger over his head. He closed his eyes in pleasure as I continued to stroke smooth scales. "This is a nice pattern," I said after a while. He wasn't moving, much like a cat wouldn't as long as the petting continued. "Did you do that yourself?" I traced the pattern in question. His eyes opened and I heard an intake of breath, as if he were snorting at my statement.
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