The City

by Rachael Byrd

  Slowly, Intrigue regained control of herself and set Nytala back down onto the floor, dropping her hand from her throat. The girl rubbed at her neck and nodded casually to Intrigue as if she endured such tortures daily.

  "Forgive me, Intrigue. I didn't mean to offend you. Perhaps you should start with your breakfast."

  She shook her head. “I'll not be taking breakfast with the other vampires."

  Leaving Nytala to gape at her, Intrigue walked calmly to one of the long rectangular tables and sat down next to a young boy, who shrank from her as if she might grab him by the throat. The room was still silent.

  Intrigue reached out and picked up one of the platters of eggs. They were fried over easy; goopy egg yolk splatters decorated the edges of the pan. She lifted her bowl and filled it to the brim with egg. Would she even be able to swallow the first bite? She set the platter back down, reached for the plate of toast, and counted off six slices.

  Melissa walked over and sat down next to Intrigue, and passed her a glass of ice and a frosty steel pitcher of water. Intrigue filled the glass from the pitcher and replaced it on the table. The cafeteria was still silent, and she could feel the eyes of the vampires, Hawk's in particular, fixated on her.

  She took a fork and stirred up the eggs in her bowl, breaking the yolks and mixing them indiscriminately with the whites which were unsalted and wanting pepper. She lifted a piece of toast from her pile, ran it through the egg mixture, and brought it to her mouth.

  It was hot, fresh, and good. There was no nausea to disconcert her, no sudden feeling that she had stepped over a boundary now forbidden to her. She swept the toast through the eggs again and enjoyed a second, larger bite. She soon decided that this was the best meal she'd ever eaten and began to devour the eggs and toast, stopping only momentarily for a drink of cool water. And still, the stunned silence continued.

  A sudden retching sound distracted her from her food. Hawk was stumbling drunkenly around the room, holding his hand over his mouth in a futile attempt to keep runnels of regurgitated blood from rocketing out from beneath his fingers. He looked up for a moment, his bloodshot eyes locking on Intrigue's, then leaned over and hurled a gutfull of blood over the floor.

  A janitor hurried out from nowhere with a mop and a bucket, and began to clean up the bloody mess. Someone tittered softly, and a quiet babble of conversation broke out again.

  Intrigue finished her meal and waited for Melissa to finish picking at her one egg. They left the mess hall before any of the others, picked up their cleaning supplies. Melissa led Intrigue down the hall, their blocky heels clomping softly against the tile of the corridor.

  "Why did you do that?"

  "What?"

  "Attack Nytala. Attract attention to yourself like that. You're new; you should probably lay low, act normal, and try to fit in."

  Intrigue stopped, teeth parted.

  "Act normal? What in hell is normal in a place like this?"

  Melissa hesitated, her eyes slightly narrowed. “You're lucky that drunk threw up. He took attention off you."

  "I know."

  "You don't care?"

  "No."

  Melissa considered this for a moment longer. “Why didn't you just go drink the blood with them? It's not like you had to kill anyone; it came imported from a factory, probably the one in Macabre, and in your condition, it's perfectly normal to drink that stuff."

  "Didn't you hear Angel? They might be down to a week's supply of blood. We should save as much as we should, and try to avoid getting too deeply hooked on the stuff. It was disgraceful how much they allowed that Hawk to drink; he was positively drowning himself while there may be nothing left in a week.” Did she feel guilty for lying to Melissa? Not really.

  "I'm sure they wouldn't let him gorge himself like that without a reason. Maybe he's distinguished himself from the others somehow, seen something awful. I wouldn't trust what Nytala said; I doubt that the first taste of human blood drove him over the edge into obsession. Maybe he's trying to escape something."

  Still doing her best to quash her true thoughts and feelings about this whole bloody business, Intrigue nodded. “Maybe. Yeah, that must be it. Maybe he killed his family or something."

  They continued their walk in silence, scrubbing windows as they came to them, eventually making their way completely around the perimeter of the building. They stopped in front of the leaders’ hall. Intrigue peered curiously down the corridor. Angel and Phoenyx would be sleeping now and Intrigue wanted to explore, but although she was almost entirely sure that she could count on Melissa, she didn't want to risk getting caught. Plans for escape were still forming in her mind, stronger and more insistent, and they became more plausible with each passing moment. She knew she would not be able to suppress her wishes for long but she hoped there would be a purpose for her escape when she came to it at last.

  The urge to walk down the corridor and find Angel's room evaporated as quickly as it had come. Exhaustion struck her and she could do nothing but succumb to it. She could not lift her arm to wash another window; she did not care whether she ever left this hellhole.

  * * * *

  "Intrigue? Are you all right?” Melissa peered at her through a thickening haze. Intrigue took one slow, hesitant step and collapsed onto the floor.

  When she awoke at last, dizzy and disoriented, she found herself lying on a plush black bed swathed in silky sheets. Folds of black gauze hung down around her from an overhead canopy. She sat up, blinking slowly.

  Angel smiled at her, leaning over the edge of the bed to sweep the diaphanous curtains aside.

  "We were starting to get worried about you, Intrigue."

  She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, meaning to apologize and leave quickly and was surprised to find herself barely clothed at all. A black slip hung down, barely covering her upper thigh, and she was aware that she was still wearing underwear. Nothing else. She put her hand to her head, embarrassed.

  "You fainted in the hall. Your friend, Melissa, came to find me. Nytala changed you into sleeping clothes she borrowed from Phoenyx, and since my room was closest, we moved you here."

  She opened her mouth to apologize but Angel waved his hand impatiently. “I couldn't sleep anyway, don't worry about having taken my bed hostage. You may spend the rest of the day here if you'd like, and I can move down to Phoenyx's room for a while. I'm sure she won't mind. You've been very stressed lately, I'm sure. I saw the bruises when you were in the Shop. It's all right, I understand. Melissa told me about your incident in the cafeteria this morning."

  Intrigue's mind swam with panic but Angel went on as if her behavior was normal.

  "Brave thing for you to do, eating eggs and toast to help us save blood. Generous, brave thing, and unbelievable that you were able to consume so much. Did it make you sick?"

  If she said “no", would Angel know the truth? On the other hand, she was inclined to believe that he would know if she lied to him, so she shook her head.

  "No. I felt fine until I got to this hallway, and then—I don't know."

  "It's fine, Intrigue, perfectly fine. Go back to sleep; we can't have you collapsing tonight."

  "You'll still let me fight?"

  "Yeah, sure."

  She smiled brightly. “Thank you, Angel."

  "Don't thank me, Intrigue. You're doing a service to me and to the entire Nest by putting yourself on the line like this."

  She looked down at the floor, actually blushing. Angel smiled and took a step forward.

  "And now, Miss Intrigue, you should probably go to sleep. It will be an easy fight for all of us tonight; I don't want you to think otherwise, but I think you should sleep, anyway."

  He reached out, placed his hands against her shoulders, and deftly pushed her back onto the mattress. She fell backward through the web of gossamer curtains and exhaustion overcame her again. Angel's fingertips caressed her throat, and for a moment she feared—craved?—another bite, but he left and sleep closed aroun
d her.

  She dreamed of a great and glorious escape. She saw how Angel favored her, how easy it would be to sway his affections, how easy it would be to convince him to confide in her. How easy it would be to run into the unguarded night. She at last felt the weight of her own humanity; it had not been drained from her veins as she had been led to believe. She could not help but want to toss Angel and Den 902 aside; she wanted to train her body to fight and she knew that she was a Chaotic.

  The way the others had explained it to her had made it seem like a Chaotic was a Chaotic by choice; a vampire who thought through the place he had been put into and who decided that he would rather help his former species than hunt them. Intrigue now realized that this was not the case; she could not help but be a Chaotic and she felt certain that the others could not help but fit into their vampiristic society.

  The earth had been meant for humans, not vampires, and she now saw that it was possible to push back the waves of darkness, to force them back into the fraudulent hospital from which they had been spawned. Perhaps she could not resolve the situation entirely, but she could almost certainly return things in The City to the way they had been, free of slaves and recruiters and corruption. She saw how it could all be made possible, how she could seek out the other Chaotics, how they could all be so much stronger together.

  The sound of the door opening woke her from her dreams and she sat up to find Phoenyx leaning over her. Phoenyx's full, red lips were parted, but she was not smiling. She looked down at Intrigue, her eyes narrowed.

  "The rest of the soldiers are ready. Angel sent me to fetch you, although I was under the impression that you were a house slave.” The Queen reached out, taking the smooth curve of Intrigue's chin between her tapered fingers. She slipped her thumb and her first finger between Intrigue's lips and twisted them roughly. Intrigue allowed her mouth to open, but she had no sooner done so than Phoenyx began to laugh, derisively.

  "Only a house slave, and he hasn't blunted your fangs. He won't even take me to watch this battle, and he allows you to fight. Angel says it's too dangerous to risk me, but I wonder..."

  Jealousy distorted Phoenyx's beautiful face and Intrigue could not help but wonder how this vampira had come into the position of Nest Queen. Phoenyx tightened her grip on Intrigue's face and Intrigue was barely able to restrain her urge to fight.

  "Tell me, Intrigue, has he said anything unusual to you? Anything you don't think he's said to the others?"

  She remained silent, and Phoenyx's eyes narrowed as if Intrigue's silence was a confession to some awful treason.

  "Listen to me, Intrigue. Unless you realize your place, I have a special stake reserved for you and for those like you. Do you understand?"

  Intrigue twisted her face free of the Queen's grip and stood up, forgetting that she was dressed in Phoenyx's clothes. Phoenyx's eyes took in Intrigue's attire and narrowed still further. When Phoenyx spoke again, her tone was dark and threatening.

  "Get out."

  Intrigue held Phoenyx's gaze but said nothing. She walked to the corner of the room where her work clothes lay. She pulled on the jeans and boots, pausing only to remove the black slip and drop it to the ground before pulling the black shirt on in its place. She did not look at Phoenyx again before leaving the room.

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  7

  Most of the defenders of the Nest were dressed in camouflage, perhaps stolen from an army surplus store, perhaps sewn by house slaves. Others were dressed in the same work clothes that Intrigue wore. The girls’ boots all had the same blocky heels and squared toes; the boys wore clunky leather work boots.

  Intrigue's breath caught as Angel strode up to her and pressed a stake into her right hand. Fear thrilled through her and Intrigue traced her fingertips over its smooth surface in wonder. The stake was the most fantastically beautiful weapon she had ever seen. It was a slender length of dark mahogany, nearly a foot long, carved into intricate curves and inlaid with foreign characters. It tapered to a needle-fine point and she could feel the danger beneath the glistening blood-hued lacquer.

  She glanced at Angel, expecting him retrieve the weapon from her hand, but he only stood there, smiling faintly. Intrigue smiled a quiet thanks and slipped the fine-tipped weapon into her pocket.

  Nytala walked up behind Angel, carrying a pile of clothes. Angel took the pile from Nytala and handed Intrigue what appeared to be a new set of soft leather work clothes and a pair of boots. She looked at Angel, her brow furrowed.

  "I'd like you to change into these,” he said. “Nytala is staying home with Phoenyx tonight. The shirt's red so that our soldiers can recognize you, but it's not bright enough to attract much attention from Den 513. If you'll notice, there are a couple places inside that black shirt—just there, see them?—where you can carry a few stakes or knives.

  "I know that you're new here, Intrigue, but I think we can trust you. Will you be my second in command?"

  Intrigue's mind was rampant with thoughts of escape but she didn't bat an eyelash as she lifted her chin to answer him.

  "Of course, Angel."

  Smiling grimly, he pulled a tin flask from his hip pocket and twisted the top off. He raised the vessel to his lips and took a quick pull of the liquid inside. Intrigue caught a whiff of human blood and dread seized her. Her mind flickered to Hawk, the might-have-been Chaotic whose resolve had supposedly dissolved with his first sip of human blood. Angel lowered the tin from his soft red mouth and for a moment, it seemed that she was safe. He paused, tilted another small mouthful of the liquid into his mouth, and then offered the flask to Intrigue.

  Fear ran silver fingertips along her spine, although she held her face impassive. If she took the flask, she would betray herself and risk possible insanity ... or she could refuse to drink, offend Angel, bring suspicion upon herself, end all hopes of a swift escape, and face possible death. She took the flask.

  Defiance held her shoulders taut as she tilted the bottle back, opened her throat, and drained the vessel dry. The peppery liquid seared the back of her tongue and flooded her stomach with the heat of blood hardened with liquor. The mixture sat uneasily with her; twice it tried to come back up, but Intrigue's resolve was firm. She returned the flask to Angel and he passed it to Nytala without loosing his eyes from Intrigue's.

  Phoenyx strode forward, her black eyes glittering malevolently. Her chin was lifted at a sharp angle and her fangs were bared, extending over her bottom lip. The Queen of the most respected Nest in The City swung a glittering weapon upward. Intrigue felt momentarily lightheaded but held her composure as she met Phoenyx's eyes.

  Phoenyx stopped her swing abruptly and Intrigue could feel the needled tip of the ivory stake prick the soft skin under her throat. She looked coolly into her aggressor's eyes. The army was silent and Angel stood motionless. Slowly, Phoenyx lowered the weapon, but the two did not break eye contact.

  Angel took Phoenyx's arm and pulled her firmly to his side. He lowered his head and murmured in her ear. Looking enraged, Phoenyx ripped her arm out of Angel's grip and faced him, snarling.

  "I will not wait here! What is going on?"

  "Be quiet, ‘Nyx."

  "Tell me, Angel, do you love me?” Phoenyx stood before him, fierce and wild, her chin raised defiantly. She glowered up at him, her lips still slightly parted, her fangs glittering. Angel pushed her away.

  "You're not dressed to fight."

  "You'll wait for me then! I will dress.” She turned to leave, paused, and looked back at Angel. “Will you wait for me?” she whispered.

  There was a moment of silence. Intrigue expected Angel to look at her, but he did not. “I will,” he said gravely.

  Phoenyx turned and strode off down a corridor, her sharp heels sinking deep into the plush carpet. She walked into a room, slamming the door behind her. Intrigue looked at her shoes, afraid of what she might betray by meeting Angel's gaze. He took her arm and led her around the corner, safely away from the prying eyes of the s
oldiers. Intrigue tried to keep her eyes lowered but Angel gently took her chin and tilted it toward him.

  Intrigue shook her head and pulled away. “Phoenyx will be back soon; you know she doesn't trust me. If she sees us talking here, away from the others—"

  "Don't worry about it,” he silenced her. “You'll fight as second in command."

  "Phoenyx won't like it."

  "Phoenyx is my Queen, and I adore and treasure her—” Angel broke off and sighed heavily. Intrigue dared to look up and Angel met her gaze. A moment passed between them, and then another.

  "I haven't really cared much about her for a long time,” he said slowly. “And this is the first time I've admitted it to anyone."

  Emotions knotted themselves with confusion and Intrigue frowned. “I don't—"

  "Please,” Angel interrupted. He took her hands in his, and though they were cold, the gentle eyes above his cynical smile betrayed the intent of warmth behind the gesture.

  "You're something different."

  Chaotic echoed in her mind—Angel couldn't know?

  "The Nest would be torn without Phoenyx."

  "It's all right,” she murmured, pulling her face away. “I'll stay away from her.” Her heart in her throat, Intrigue turned to leave, but Angel's hand closed gently around her wrist. She looked back at him and he closed his eyes.

  "This can't go on,” he whispered

  "What can't go on?” she asked. He continued as if she hadn't spoken.

  His fangs glistened and Intrigue remembered them flashing toward her as he brought her into his Nest. “I don't know what to do."

  "Do nothing,” she murmured. Angel looked back at her, his eyes solemn.

  "You seem so familiar,” he said. “I feel like I've known you forever. I should send you away, but I can't.” Angel pulled a small round tin from his pocket. He twisted the cap off, poured some thick, oily liquid into the palm of his hand, and rolled back the short sleeve of her shirt to smear the grease onto her shoulder. The salve burned for a second, then felt wonderfully cool. She stared down at her shoulder and when the slave label faded from her skin, Intrigue smiled and looked up at Angel. His face was stern, almost severe.