by Rachael Byrd
"All right...” He considered her for a moment longer; those brilliantly blue eyes made her feel exposed, as if they were the only two in the room. Guilt nibbled at Intrigue's throat—but what was there to feel guilty about?
"I'll show you around the Den in a moment."
Angel bent and began fiddling with the latch on Melissa's crate. The door fell open and Intrigue could clearly see that the Shop clerk had not just crated Melissa; he had also chained her wrists, elbows, ankles, knees, and throat. Why hadn't the same been done to her?
Angel unlocked the chains and helped Melissa out of the crate. He apparently had no plans to vampirize her; he turned to the human slave that had handed him the pouches of blood for Intrigue.
"A bottle of water for Melissa, please Nytala. And their new clothes."
Intrigue was again struck by how absolutely civil and courteous Angel seemed. Angel had done nothing but help them—other than biting her—since he had purchased them. There was the catch, of course. He had purchased them.
The girl Angel had called Nytala had oddly colored eyes; they were neither quite blue or grey or green. They were dull, without much of a spark of intelligence. Nytala's hair was long and brown. She was a few inches over five feet and a little trimmer than average.
Nytala handed Melissa a bottle of water, then passed each of them a canvas bag. Intrigue rummaged through the bag she'd been given and found black pants, black short sleeved shirts, black boots with blocky heels and squared toes, and black hair-ties. Both Nytala and Angel turned away while Melissa and Intrigue changed into their new work uniforms.
Angel led Intrigue and Melissa through the Den, which turned out to be even larger and more of a labyrinth than Melissa had suggested it might be. This didn't bother Intrigue much; she had an excellent memory and was already memorizing the long, twisting corridors without much trouble. A thought of escape entered her mind again, but she easily suppressed it.
He showed them the kitchen and where all the utensils were kept. The kitchen was neatly divided into two sides; there were pouches of blood, gallon jugs of blood, and wine glasses on one side of the vast room, and cups, plates, bowls, and cutlery on the other. Cupboards were filled to brimming with crackers and fresh fruits and veggies.
"There are two meals a day for the slaves, and three for the Nest members. You can come here anytime though, and get something to eat. We won't let you go hungry."
The knives, Intrigue noticed, were strong and sharp. And she was fairly sure she'd seen several pocketknives, although she kept this information to herself. She couldn't imagine what vampires would be keeping pocketknives around for; surely they didn't trust slaves with knives? Vampires couldn't be disposed of with the sharp steel blades, but they could certainly be wounded. There was a good chance that some of those knives had been silver. Definitely not something that one would expect to find in a vampiristic household. Was it a joke, like the bobby pin in the Warehouse?
He led them on, and they at last reached a room twice as large as the kitchen. People—or maybe vampires?—laid on black mats on the floor, sleeping peacefully.
"The human slaves sleep here. Melissa, that's you. Intrigue, you can either choose to sleep here with the humans—provided you don't bite them, of course—and you'll work the day shift, or you can sleep with the Nest members and work during the night. It's up to you."
"Day shift,” she said. Angel raised an eyebrow.
"Well, if you're certain ... that's all right. The day shift will start just before the sun rises. The nights are yours. You're a vampira now, but you'll still want to spend time sleeping, probably two or three hours minimum. You'll be working twelve hour shifts, but as I may have mentioned, the work is not difficult. The sun will be up soon and I'll be sleeping for a while, but if you don't mind, I'd like you to meet the Queen of the Nest, Phoenyx."
Intrigue raised an eyebrow. There was a Queen of the nest?
"Certainly, sir. Thank you for accepting us into your house and giving us a way to earn our keep.” Melissa tilted her chin toward Angel, smiling sweetly.
"Not a problem, Melissa. And my name is Angel, not sir. Come on; I'm fairly sure Phoenyx is overseeing the pantry stocking. We've got a new shipment in today from the Factory.” He strode down the hall, Intrigue and Melissa flanking him.
The pantry was huge. The room hummed with the whirr of coolers. Rows of clear glass or plastic cubes lined the shelves, some filled with pouches of blood and some filled with unpackaged blood and sealed, presumably to preserve freshness. Some of the shelves had gallon jugs full of the stuff sitting on them. All of the containers were labeled with the type and the distributor. Intrigue noticed, not without pleasure, that the majority of the blood appeared to be animal blood.
And there was Phoenyx. She stood regally near the pantry door, directing the transporters carrying the cubes toward the shelves. Her skin was a copper-flecked ivory and her waist-length black hair was lit with flashes of red and gold. A brilliantly red dress sheathed her lithe body, cascading toward a pool on the floor at her feet. She was tall and thin, and her fierce black eyes flashed arrogance. Her lips were full and red, and she appeared to be no older than perhaps twenty.
She turned toward Angel, and her arrogant expression flickered. She strode toward him. “Angel, half the shipment was cut off by the Chaotics and half of what was left was seized by a rival den."
"Which den?"
"Five thirteen."
"Kill them,” he said.
Phoenyx's eyes widened. “Angel..."
"Don't hesitate. The day shift is coming and we won't be able to do anything outside the Den, but tomorrow night, we're going to the trade route to kill them."
"Angel, they've been fine so far—"
"They have not! They've been stealing from us to make a profit. It's done."
Phoenyx looked down at the floor. “You know, their old leader is dead. Now ... Clayton—"
"Clayton? Had I known that he was in charge of them, I would have had him killed a long time ago."
"That's a bit melodramatic, don't you think?"
Angel's carefree expression fell dead. “No, I don't. He damn near killed you before your first Communion."
Angel fell silent and turned. The transporters had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him.
"Get back to work,” Angel said coolly, “What do you think I keep you around for? None of you will eat until you've gotten back the blood you lost."
"Boss—Angel—It's almost daylight!” one of the transporters stammered. “The sun's coming up now—you should probably wake up the day shift workers—we can't go back out there. We'll die."
"Wear sun cloaks."
"What if—?"
"Go."
As the transporters filtered out of the room, Angel turned back to Phoenyx. “Sorry, love, but this has been happening far too often. We really can't keep going at the current consumption rate without the rest of that shipment. We'll have to impose a ration until they get back with what they lost."
"What do you think the chances of that are?"
"Slim to none. Most of them will have to die in the Factory in exchange for what they lost and I don't doubt the Chaotics will capture most of that. It's surprising, really, that the transporters got this much back here."
"Maybe the Chaotics don't want us all to die."
"What makes you say that?"
"They look out for each other, don't they? I mean, they supposedly don't like one another, but the rumor is that one out of fifty vampiristic slaves has the capability to be a Chaotic. They need more. They don't want to cut off all the supplies; the other Chaotics would die along with the rest of us."
"Brilliant suggestion, Miss Arizona. By the way, I did actually come here for a reason."
"Not just to see me?"
"There's that, but I brought some new house slaves for you to meet. I know you enjoy meeting new slaves."
"Really."
Phoenyx stepped past Angel, apparently spotting Intri
gue and Melissa for the first time.
"Welcome to our Den, girls. I'm Phoenyx Arizona."
"I'm Intrigue. Nice to meet you, Miss Arizona."
"Phoenyx or ‘Nyx, please!"
"Whatever you say."
Intrigue bit her tongue, knowing that she had probably sounded rude without meaning to. She hoped Phoenyx had been too preoccupied to notice, but she wasn't that fortunate. Phoenyx's stare turned cold. Silence swallowed them.
"Forgive me, Phoenyx.” Intrigue looked at the floor carefully. She could feel Phoenyx's eyes on her.
"And I'm Melissa. It's really an honor to be here in the presence of the Queen of the greatest Nest in The City."
"I'm glad you think so, Melissa.” Glancing up, Intrigue saw that neither Angel nor Phoenyx looked very happy.
"It's full dawnlight now, Angel, and I think I'm headed off to sleep for a while. You'll have to wake the day shift workers yourself.” Phoenyx strode out of the pantry and down the hallway.
Angel looked at Intrigue. “I don't think you meant to insult her. Phoenyx is just high strung. It gets to be a bit much, sometimes."
"I didn't mean to insult her."
Angel nodded. “I didn't think that you did, but this is a fairly stressful time for all of us. Phoenyx hasn't been herself lately. There are irresponsible vampires all over The City who end up with huge families that they can't afford to support, and then they run out of blood and die, or they come begging to us and I have to come up with extra supplies. Have you ever seen a vampire's corpse, Intrigue? Not the remnants of one who was staked, but who's died of sunlight or starvation?"
Intrigue shook her head.
"Awful,” Angel said. “Dried, twisted, mangled corpses. Few—if any—of them ever manage to rise again, and if they do, it's an awful thing to watch. Most of them can only do so with a great deal of care from another vamp; they normally have to spend a week or more in one of our hospitals—blood dripped into their mouths constantly and they have to be kept in darkness. They never heal, not really, and if they're ever wanting for food again, or if they're trapped in the sunlight for more than a few moments, they have no chance at all."
He closed his eyes, sighed, and gestured to the pantry. “That same threat is hanging over us. We're fine for now, though; we've got plenty to get us through a week at least ... but after that, who knows? If we can't keep getting new shipments in, we're in serious trouble. You understand, I'm sure. If you don't mind, I need to go wake the rest of the daylight slaves now. Stick to indoor work; you won't much like the sun. Good night, Intrigue."
"Good night, Angel. Wait—"
Angel turned, one thin eyebrow raised, and Intrigue's breath again caught in her throat. “Yes, Intrigue?"
She bit at her lip, her mind racing. “Sir—I mean Angel—would you mind if I came with you to fight Den 513?"
Angel smiled warmly. “Are you sure you want to do that? It shouldn't be difficult, but you are relatively new—"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"You won't have to work the full day shift, then. Work a while and go to sleep whenever the thought takes you.” Angel turned and strode out of the refrigerated pantry. Intrigue walked back toward the kitchen, Melissa following her.
"This isn't going to be too bad, Intrigue, do you think?” Melissa ran a hand back through her hair.
"No, I think it'll be just fine."
"It's too bad that he bit you, though."
Intrigue shrugged. “No more than I'd expected, I guess. It's probably better, this way. It's preferable to being left half dead, anyway."
"Yeah..."
"Should we get started, then?"
"On what?” Melissa asked.
"We're here to keep this place clean, right?"
"Yeah ... but the others are just now waking up. They haven't even eaten yet. We've got plenty of time before we have to start."
Intrigue smiled broadly. “Why not get a head start on the work?"
Melissa looked at her incredulously. “You're spending the rest of your life as a slave, and you're eager to get started?"
She nodded. “We might as well. Look how filthy the windows are!"
"Sure. Where do you suppose the cleaning supplies are?"
"In the kitchen, most likely. I saw a door at the back; it's probably a broom closet or something."
As it turned out, that was exactly where they were.
Intrigue pulled a rag and a bottle of window cleaner out of the closet and waited while Melissa found another rag and some dust spray. They headed off down the hallway.
The front door was easier to locate than even Intrigue had expected. There was a large tinted-glass chicken wire window in the middle of it, smeared with fingerprints.
Melissa began to work on cleaning the wood around the door frame, and Intrigue quickly and efficiently disposed of the greasy smears on the window. She pushed on the door and it swung open. Her brow creased in unease; surely Angel wouldn't leave the doors unlocked? A slave could just walk out...
She stepped outside, planning on wiping the outside of the window and froze. She dove back inside, groaning. Her skin throbbed. Glancing down at herself, she could see that her skin was tinted red, although the light had only touched her for a moment. She was dizzy, nauseous, and lightheaded.
"Don't worry about it, Intrigue; I'll get the outside of the window."
Melissa took the rag and window cleaner out of Intrigue's hands and stepped outside. Intrigue slumped against the wall and waited quietly from the inside of Angel's Den. How could she have forgotten that she had relinquished certain abilities along with her life? Damn it, why had he bitten her?
Intrigue was suddenly consumed by a bitter rage. She balled her hand into a fist and punched the cinderblock wall. The block shifted, spitting a small spray of dust back at her. Her hand should have shattered, but didn't. The anger passed as suddenly as it had descended, and she stepped back, shocked. Melissa opened the door, looking wide-eyed at Intrigue.
"What was that? Are you all right?"
"Yeah, fine, thanks for taking care of the window for me."
"No problem."
As they turned to look for other windows to clean, Intrigue took one last look at the wall. There was a considerable dent where she had struck the cinder block. She hoped that they wouldn't question her. The pair went on their way through the building, scrubbing the thin layers of grime from the windows. The human slaves lowered their eyes whenever Intrigue passed by them, though from shame or fear, she could not tell.
[Back to Table of Contents]
6
"Intrigue, Melissa. Hurry, or you'll miss breakfast.” Nytala hurried down the hall. “There's eggs, toast, and water for you, Melissa. Intrigue, if you'll come too, there are a few other vampires who work the day shift. They've got a couple pints of fresh blood."
Intrigue was tempted to ask whether there was any animal blood available, but she bit her tongue.
They followed Nytala to the cafeteria and dropped their cleaning supplies in a bucket at the doorway. The smell of fresh blood was strong inside the room and Intrigue suppressed a shudder. There was no doubt in her mind that the blood here was human. The smell was too deep, too rich, and too red.
Nytala gestured toward the small round table near the back of the room where the vampires sat together, sipping sweet sanguinities from fluted glasses. They were not entertaining conversation of any kind, as far as she could see. They simply sat there, contemplating and occasionally sipping from the breakfast glasses clasped in their mostly pale hands. One sat a short way off from the others, swaying in his seat as he refilled his glass from the steel pitcher on the table, downed it, and filled it again.
"The vampires are eating their breakfasts over there. They're a sour lot and that's mostly why they're on the day shift; the others don't much like them. It gets pretty cliquey down here. All of them but that one there—” She gestured toward the drunk. “Have their fangs blunted. That's Hawk. He used to be their version of a tee
totaler; there was a time when he'd only take animal blood, and not much of that. Angel was worried he might turn out to be a Chaotic."
"How'd he end up like that?"
Nytala grinned wryly. “We slipped some of the human stuff into his drink one night and that was all it took. He's hooked on the stuff, bloody drunk all the time. Carries a flask of AB negative—rare stuff, that is, none of us are quite sure where he gets it—diluted with vodka or whiskey or god knows what. Won't tell anyone anything about his life before here, except his name. Phoenyx wanted to keep him or Angel would've killed him."
Hawk's eyes were a dark, striking green, visible from this distance despite the yellow tint of the whites and the blood vessels that stood out as if they might pop. If she'd had to guess, Intrigue would have said he was in his late twenties, although it was hard to tell in his drunken state; he could easily have been a bit older or younger. She had no desire whatsoever to approach that table where the drunkard and his friends guzzled the life that was still warm from human veins.
"No thank you, I think I'll take eggs and water with the rest."
Nytala raised an eyebrow. “Angel turned you. I saw him do it, so I know you're no half-blood. Miss Intrigue, I don't mean to intrude, but there might be questions if you don't take breakfast with the rest of the vampires. Someone might think you're a Chaotic, or a sympathizer."
Intrigue didn't answer.
"We have no use for that around here, so if you're something along that line, I think you'd better turn yourself in right away. The Chaotics cause trouble. I'm happier here than I ever was before Angel took me, and most everyone else—even the humans—are too. You'd better not cause trouble for us."
Intrigue struggled to restrain herself but fury flooded her veins, fresh and hot. Part of her felt guilty; in a way, everything Nytala had said was true. Mostly, though, there was defiance. She snatched Nytala by the throat and slammed the girl against the wall. The cafeteria fell silent.
Nytala snarled and twisted in Intrigue's grip. Her grayish eyes flashed fear and Intrigue stepped in closer.
"Angel has my loyalty,” she hissed, tightening her grip on Nytala's throat. The girl squirmed weakly, her flailings already apathetic. Here was a vampira fully prepared to die at any moment and for no cause at all.
