SUIT and FANGS

by Marian Tee

  The Brethren

  Present Time

  A uniformed guard suddenly blocked the way of my parents, heels clicking hard against the ground when they were about to open the doors leading into the Discipline Hall. The sound echoed in the enormous marbled hallway, and I tried not to shiver. Only this part of the Brethren was free from the gay and busy crowds that filled its magnificently vast and opulently decorated ballrooms every day. This was also the part that all the Caros painstakingly avoided. Once you crossed this hall, there was a chance you’d never come out alive of it.

  The guard’s gaze lingered on me. I had a feeling he thought I deserved to be here, with how disgraceful I looked. My hair was a mess, my makeup ruined, and one strap of my sparkly flapper dress was torn, leaving it to rest limply against my bare arm.

  Image to Caros was everything, and yet here I was---a living blasphemy of everything our race stood for.

  “Our apologies, sir, madam, but only violators may enter.” The guard’s face was expressionless when he spoke.

  Violators were just a misdeed away from traitors. Violators could be punished, reprimanded, or tortured but for traitors there was no hope, no stay for execution.

  All eyes were suddenly on me – the violator.

  Panic eclipsed every emotion I felt for one fraction of a second, but I managed to hold it back. I forced a smile. Caros were never supposed to show their real feelings – and especially not the kind that put us at a disadvantage.

  “I’ll go alone.” This was what I wanted. This was what I told myself I would die trying to have – and now was the time to prove it.

  I didn’t turn to catch one last look at my parents when the ten-foot-tall steel doors closed behind me, not even when I heard Catherine Sonora’s sharp intake of breath as I gently extricated my hand from her tight grasp. My mom might seem frail, a tiny society blonde who only knew how to spend money – but she was more than that. She was a fighter, but I had a feeling she’d break down if she knew how terrified I was at this moment.

  The Discipline Hall was glaringly bright and intensely humid. Sunlight burned my skin here and there, with golden rays managing to sneak past the mosaic art that made up the hall’s ceiling, the rainbow shades of glass leaving stinging spots on my flesh.

  The mosaic portrait was like something straight out of an urban fantasy book cover – an Armageddon scene depicted in the most elegant selection of colors. It was but a taste of how violators could be punished, of how Caros still insisted on finding grace and beauty even in the way they inflicted pain.

  Our ancient artists had vividly painted with glass vampires dying in a pool of blood in one corner, a murder of vidanges nesting on top of pine trees as they feasted on human flesh, werewolves howling on a full moon atop scraggly mountains while Souris with their pastel-colored wings, the mortal kindred of angels, soared into the midnight sky.

  And behind it all was our race, infamous for our standoffish stance in wars between non-human lines. Or at least that was so before it became obvious to everyone that an alliance was all that stood between our race and eventual annihilation.

  My eyes were stinging by the time I stopped a small respectful distance away from the judge’s bench, which was twice as large as what you’d normally see in human courtrooms. I had to crane my neck all the way up just to meet the eyes of the reviewer.

  Here was yet another expressionless Caro, dressed in Brethren’s judicial robes, hood down to reveal sleek black hair and piercing silver eyes. She was young, probably not more than a few years older, but that wasn’t what shocked me.

  Age wasn’t a factor in our society. What made me stumble was the red rim around her left eye. I couldn’t believe someone like her existed and that she was one of our reviewers. I glanced at her eyes again, but the blood rim around her left eye was gone, making me wonder if the Discipline Hall was rigged to make its defendants hallucinate into telling the truth.

  “State your case.”

  Nails digging deep into my flesh in an effort to keep my voice from shaking, I recited from memory the lines that we were taught as children if we were ever taken as violators of our code. “My name is Caylie Sonora. I am eighteen years old, and I have been sent here in violation of Order #4 under Act 5.”

  A minute pause before the reviewer glanced down at the documents she held in one hand. “Five counts of violation listed here – academic failure, inappropriate public behavior in human presence, irresponsible behavior in Caro society, invalid absence from Brethren general assemblies, and lastly – public intake of blood.”

  The memory of that one last violation blanketed my gaze, with Brethren guards coming out of nowhere at the club. One second, I was striving hard not to move away, to let a stranger’s fangs sink into my neck, but the next thing I knew I was being arrested, so discreetly that no one – not even all the Caros who had been lost in the throes of liquor-induced pleasure – had known what was taking place under the loud throbbing beat of music.

  The reviewer’s gaze met mine. “Plea or bargain, Ms. Sonora?”

  “Guilty.” I was probably the only Caro to stand before the reviewer’s bench to say that. To plead guilty was to virtually sign away my life, to let the Brethren do as it will with me.

  And yet the reviewer didn’t even bat an eyelash. She asked calmly, “Do you understand the consequences of your actions?”

  I bowed my head. “Yes, Invisa.” That was a reviewer’s title in our language, and it was the only way to refer to them. We were prohibited from using their first names the moment they were appointed, a reminder that all their personal ties had to cease the moment they donned a reviewer’s robes.

  “I apologize sincerely for it and I would gladly pay for whatever harm I had done our society.” I meant every word. My vendetta was exactly that – mine. If someone had been hurt other than him because of my actions, then so be it. It only meant I had to wait another lifetime to extract vengeance.

  The reviewer murmured slowly, “There was no negative result of your actions that had been reported – but there could have been.” Her long nails, painted deep purple, tapped the desk. “I assume you know the standard corrective response for this would be rehabilitation under direct supervision of a Brethren official.”

  “Yes, Invisa.” I tried not to hold my breath but couldn’t. This was what I had gambled my entire future for.

  Her gaze went back to the documents she held in her hands. “But I have a feeling that if I do that then I would be playing right into your hands.”

  Shit.

  I hastily tried to school my expression back into blandness, but it was too late. I had already betrayed myself. I could see it in the way her gaze narrowed.

  She leaned back against her seat. “I’m going to ask you three questions – and if you were to answer me untruthfully I would know and there will be no bargain, no hope, no anything to save you from being thrown into the dungeons for fifty years.”

  “I will speak the truth, Invisa.” My voice thankfully didn’t shake even as my knees started to feel weak. The weight of her stare was oppressive, as if she was already carving the truth out of my soul. She made me feel small, the way I was so scantily dressed, the way I had led my life for the past sixt months---so terribly unfit to bear our race’s name.

  “Will you die for the Brethren?”

  I didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes.”

  “Do you believe the Brethren’s decisions are always right?”

  This time I paused before saying finally, “No.”

  The reviewer smiled. It made her beautiful, but it also made her appear deadlier and I was starting to understand why someone so young had been chosen to hold one of the highest positions in our society.

  “And if I were to let you choose who among the Brethren would be your rehabilitators---”

  A gasp escaped. Never in my blackest dreams had I thought I would have a chance to choose.

  Her smile became a mixture of sweetness and poison. “Who wo
uld you choose, Caylie Sonora?”

  My eyes turned black as I answered very softly, “Luka Georgiades.”

  Our gazes met, and that was when I saw it again, the red rim shining so brightly it was turned the iris of her left eye into a blood moon set in a silvery lake.

  “So be it,” the reviewer said just as softly. “I shall order Luka Georgiades to be your rehabilitator, with orders not to leave your side until you have been set back in the right path. He is also to be informed that you have argued strongly against his endorsement---”

  My head shot up.

  “---but this review has overrode your preferences.”

  One blink and she was gone.

  Another blink and she stood right in front of me, her speed and the power that was coiled inside her causing me to stumble back in stunned realization. Dark. So, so dark. How could this be?

  “Yes.” Her voice was a vicious caress in itself. “I am half-vampire, the only one in this world and I see things that nobody else sees. Your life and his life are forever entwined, but the bonds are twisted and tainted by my kind.”

  This close, the red rim was disturbingly mesmerizing, tempting me to stare into it forever. It took all of my power to wrench my gaze away from the reviewer’s. “I don’t understand---”

  “You’re not meant to just yet, but soon you will.” Another blink and she was back behind the judge’s bench.

  I tried not to gasp again but failed. Just being that close to a half-vampire was enough to have me stagger back dizzily, like I had been strangled without knowing it.

  “You are dismissed.” She stood in the center of the hall, more vampire than Caro even in her dauntingly sober reviewer’s robes.

  Questions raced in my mind, but I knew that they wouldn’t be answered. I curtsied again before turning away on unsteady legs. As I reached for the door, the reviewer’s candy-coated voice once again reached me.

  Call when there is no one to trust.

  I froze, never expecting the reviewer to offer her help but when I looked back she was gone.

  ~~~

  Heads turned the moment I arrived school on Monday. News of my arrest the other night had leaked, adding to my infamy. The girls’ gazes were contemptuous, but it was more a reaction to the hunger in the boys’ stares. I had been a violator, making me forbidden fruit in their eyes. Their lust made my skin crawl, but I did my best to hide it. No bad girl worth her salt would find it distasteful.

  “Caylie, over here,” I heard my friends call out.

  I hurried to them, relieved to have my girls surround me. With them, I felt like I had gained a respite from the waves of lust emanating from most of the boys I passed by. It was suffocating, the way they didn’t hide how they wanted to possess me for the sake of possession itself.

  “It worked then?” Ever Ridgeway asked in a low voice. She was a petite brunette, with a penchant for beaded accessories. She was an It girl herself, being one of Internet’s most popular fashion bloggers – for Caros, that was. You’d be amazed with the cool tricks she has for hiding unbecoming blood stains on silk blouses. Also, her post last week – How to Hide Your Fangs When You Pose for Photos with Humans: Let Me Count the Ways – was trending even until now in Twitter.

  I nodded.

  “Are you sure he won’t see through your plan?” Sabina Xelios tugged her chandelier earrings as she spoke. If she tugged any harder, I was afraid she’d be tugging a piece of her ear off. Among the three of us, Sabina was the most practical, especially with middle-class Caros. They considered Thelma as their Financial Guru on YouTube, and tickets to her Get Bloody Rich seminars sold at hundreds of dollars each.

  In Caro society, it was the norm for every family to had at least one semi-famous personality. Unlike other races, we preferred to hide in plain sight, which was why humans believed that Caros were an exclusive organization, something like The Illuminati of sorts, an open secret that was mysterious enough to make waves once in a while but not mysterious enough for people to want to dig deeper.

  Humans thought they already knew all there was to Caros, and that was exactly what we wanted them to think, something we reinforced by having one member constantly in the spotlight. With all eyes on the better known member to humans, everyone else would easily fade into the background. It was like a sacrificial lamb led to the media’s slaughter, and in my family I was the lamb.

  Since my dad had an important position in Caro economy and my mom was active in social welfare, it had been up to me to hog the limelight. At thirteen, I had already been gracing fashion magazines, rubbing elbows with celebrities, and dating actors and models once in a while.

  We Caros were innately selfish, but we were also deadly serious about dying for our race. History books were our Bible and our race’s anthem was always #1 on our iPods. We were that loyal.

  Once upon a time, the thought of our almost fanatical devotion to The Brethren had terrified me.

  I had been afraid that if there ever came a day Luka would be made to choose between The Brethren and me, I would not have a chance of winning.

  Of course now I knew the truth. Now, there wasn’t a reason to be afraid anymore.

  Sabina snapped her fingers. “Helloooo? Caylie?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to dwell on pointless thoughts. Luka might have been an angel when we were growing up, but it had been a mask. “Sorry – I was thinking of something else. What were you saying?”

  “I’ve been hearing rumors about Luka,” she murmured we made our way to class.

  “About what?”

  “It hasn’t been confirmed yet.”

  Knowing Sabina, it meant she wouldn’t say another word until she was absolutely sure. So I let it slide, even though the way she avoided my gaze was disquieting.

  Ever was frowning darkly. “I just hope he doesn’t leave you again.”

  “If he does,” Sabina said, “I’ll tell everyone he has a small weenie.”

  All three of us laughed.

  “You’re crazy,” I told her even as I smirked at the thought. I might have never seen Luka completely naked, and I might hate him enough to kill him, but even I knew that couldn’t be true. Luka just wasn’t the type to have a small dick.

  “I mean it,” Sabina insisted.

  This light-hearted banter was one of the few rare things in my life that had remained unchanged since Luka left. The thought of losing their friendship unexpectedly struck, making me swallow. “Honestly – I wouldn’t have survived the past three years without you two.” Luka leaving me broke my heart, but these two – albeit never quite filling it – were able to paper over the cracks.

  They had done their best to make me move on with countless slumber nights, clubbing parties, and endless phone conversations. Sometimes, they succeeded. Most times – I just hated.

  Ever squeezed my hand. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

  I choked.

  Sabina laughed. “Hunger Games, really?”

  “Do you want me to quote Twilight, really?” Ever shot back.

  We were still laughing by the time we reached the vending machine, which sold blood-laced caffeine drinks. It was a morning ritual of ours, and as I started pushing coins into the slot, Thelma asked, “When will you two meet?”

  I didn’t answer right away, waiting until the Styrofoam cup was filled to the brim. I took a sip, using its heat to calm my blood. “Tonight.”

  Chapter Two

  Luka

  44 Months Ago

  Nails raked his back as he thrust in and out of her wet warmth, her sweet cries making his ears buzz. “Are you ready?” Luka rasped out.

  “Please,” she gasped.

  He clutched her hips and began driving into her harder, his heart beating faster at the way she screamed his name. When she locked her legs around his waist, he groaned, her sleek vaginal muscles tightening around his cock.

  “Come now,” he urged her.

  “I…I…”

  “Come now!”
<
br />   And she bucked, her body responding to the command in his voice as if it was all she needed to reach her pleasure.

  Luka rolled to his back, opened his eyes, and cursed.

  It was the same dream again and after all this time, he still hadn’t found her. He had fucked so many girls in the past fortnight but none of it helped him find out who it was dreaming of in that beautiful arousing dream---

  “Good morning!” There was a quick knock before the door burst open and his fifteen-year-old neighbor-slash-pet Caylie sailed into his room.

  Luka hastily pulled the covers up so that she wouldn’t see his still raging erection. “Caylie,” he growled. “How many times did I tell you to knock---”

  Her eyes went wide. “But I did knock!”

  “And wait for me to tell you to come in!”

  “Oh. Sorry, I forgot.” But the way she was smiling impishly at him told Luka that she didn’t forget.

  Luka sighed. “What do you want?”

  “Somebody to drive me to school?”

  His eyes bored through hers. “Caylie, you have an army of servants---”

  “But they’re not cool like you so please drive me to school? Please? I’m nervous.”

  Luka froze. “Wh…” He cleared his throat. “What did you just say?”

  Caylie frowned. “That I was nervous?”

  “Before that.”

  Caylie wrinkled her nose. “Really? I never thought you’d be so---”

  “Caylie,” he gritted out even as his heart started to beat hard again, just like how it was in his dream.

  And then Caylie was saying huskily, “Please?”

  It was the exact same tone that the girl in his dreams had used when she begged him to make her come. He closed his eyes. This time, the girl was no longer faceless. This time, the girl had a name. And he was so goddamn fucked.