by ERIN BEDFORD
My father pushed to his feet, a bit slower than I expected from someone his age, and I reached out to help him up. He waved me off and stood as far from me as he could. That didn’t bode well.
“I know I wasn’t able to be there before you were taken to the Core for the election.” I opened my mouth to tell him it’s okay, but he held his hand up. “I know you understand, but still it upsets me when I was not able to be there for you, especially when you needed me.”
“But you showed up later,” I reminded him of the time he showed up on one of the nights of the election. “And though I might have sent you off, I did appreciate your coming to see me.” I frowned and tilted my head to the side. “Even if it was because of someone unpleasant.”
“Which you never explained. Why did they want you out of the election?” My father raised a brow as if it were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard of.
I made a face. “Politics as usual. Zara, the mayor’s daughter, wanted to be chosen by Patrick and saw me as her number one competition.” I sniffed and smirked. “I guess she was right.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” he mused though he didn’t smile. “That doesn’t answer my first question.”
I shifted uncomfortably. For once, I wished I had the years of practice Patrick and the others had. The effortlessness that let them seem like mobile statues. It would definitely have come in handy right about now.
Sighing, I scuffed my boot on the ground and then glanced up at him, hoping the look I gave him was innocent. “What do you want to know?”
“I want to know what happened to my daughter.” His tone was stern and almost to the point of yelling. “I want to know why, out of the blue on her wedding day, she sends a message begging me to save her. No explanation, no nothing. Did that Blordril hurt you? Did he ...?” My father trailed off as if he couldn’t bring himself to say what he was thinking.
“No, no. Nothing like that.” I quickly reassured him though it was partly a lie. Patrick had hurt me but not in the way he was thinking. The idea of Patrick wanting me that way, even though I was still angry with him, sent a strange kind of warmth into the pit of my stomach.
“Then what? Explain to me because I don’t get it.” When I was silent, he took a step toward me, and I forced myself to stand still. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me slightly. “What are you so afraid of?”
I laughed and not a pleasant one. “Not the things you are thinking.”
“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.” He shook his head sadly, releasing me with a drop of his arms. “The things I stay up and imagine at night, that could have possibly had you running for the hills?” He sighed heavily and let out a dark chuckle. “There are no words to describe them.”
“You’re right,” I told him, making him look up. “There are no words to describe the horrors I have witnessed, but none of those compare to anything you could have imagined safe in your bed at night.”
“But I—”
I held my hand up cutting him off. “No, I’m telling you.” I laughed against, shaking my head in disbelief. “I didn’t even believe it at first. I hardly believe it now. So, there is no way that you would ever guess it. Not in your wildest nightmares.”
My father swallowed visibly, his eyes settled on me. “I can take it. If you can, then I can.”
I dropped my gaze first. Not because I was scared but because I couldn’t think of how to start. Every conversation that I’d had about this had ended badly. There had to be a better way to handle this, a better way to explain the monsters that ruled over us. The monster standing before him now.
“Have you heard of how Alban began?” I asked finally, trying to start slowing instead of jumping into right away. “I mean the real story.”
My father’s brows furrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “After the wars that decimated everything, the remainder of the human race gathered together under a council of leaders to create what we are now, Alban.”
I smiled bitterly. “Close but a bit watered down from the true version.”
“What? How do you know this?” He turned his head to the side, searching me for some sign of an answer.
“The election wasn’t all about pretty ball gowns and fancy dances, you know.” I arched a brow. “I did some reading—” The surprised expression on my father’s face made me bark a laugh. “Yes, I know. Me? Reading? Not exactly my cup of tea, but sometimes, reading is all that you have to find the answers you need.”
“So, these answers, what were they? What were you looking for?”
“I didn’t go searching for answers at first,” I explained. “All I was thinking about was getting out of there. Of going home. The last thing on my mind was being the hero of Alban.”
“Hero? That’s what you plan on being?” Real concern etched into my father’s face. “You think you can save us from poverty? From ourselves? How exactly do you think you can do that sitting around here?”
“I don’t,” I snapped. “Poverty and starvation are the least of your worries. There is something far worse that has been hiding right under our noses.” I scoffed and corrected myself. “Rather, above our heads.” I met my father’s confused gaze and made sure my voice was as sturdy and strong. “The ones you have to fear are those who rule us. Those who have been here longer than me, longer than you. Heck, before Alban even existed.”
“Clarabelle, what are you talking about? That’s impossible.” His shook his head, his eyes wide. “The Crimson Fold hasn’t been around for that long.”
“Haven’t they?” I asked, urging him to come to the conclusion I wanted on his own. “Have we ever had an election? For the main council, I mean? Patrick has been the leader since I was born, and he looks no older than he did then than he does now. Tell me? Is that just good genes?”
“His father must have—”
“Looked exactly like him?” I finished for him with a hint of disbelief. “I hate to break it to you, but the Crimson Fold? They are the same as the day Alban came to be. Patrick is the same leader who pulled us out of chaos and gave us order.”
“No, that’s not possible.” My father began to pace, rubbing a hand over his face. He stopped for a moment and stared at the wall. I waited. Waited for him to find the words that he needed to hear. The ones that he didn’t want to believe. The ones I wished never had to come to life.
“Is it possible?” my father finally asked, turning to me. “Tell me it’s not possible. That this is all a joke.”
“It gets worse.”
He laughed then. A deep dark laugh that came from his belly. “Of course, it does.” Sinking down to the ground, he leaned over his knees, his head hanging down. “Might as well give it to me all at once.”
I took a deep breath and gave it to him as he asked. “Vampires. They’re vampires.”
My father’s head whipped up. “Vampires? Are you sure?”
It was my turn to be confused. I’d expected him to plow me with questions. What’s a vampire? How do you kill them? And so on, but not are you sure?
“You’ve heard of vampires?” I asked, slowly making sure to put emphasis on the word vampires.
“Yes, well. I’ve heard whispers. Tales you told your children to make them behave.” The expression on my face made him stop. “Not that I told you any of those. You weren’t the kind of child that needed to be scared into obedience.”
I snorted. “Maybe you should have.”
“Anyway,” he drew out with a frown. “I’d never paid much attention to the stories, I had other things to worry about.” He raised his brow as if it said everything.
“So, what do you know about them?” I pried, hoping he had some information that I didn’t. I’d be surprised if he did, but wouldn’t that have been lucky?
“Not much.” He shrugged, the gesture strange on my father. A forty-three-year-old should not be shrugging. “They don’t age, and they drink blood.”
“That’s it?” My brows raised up into
my hairline. “That is the whole of your knowledge about vampires?” When he nodded, all my hope went out the window. If this place had windows. Licking my lips, I sighed. “Okay, so the blood and the not aging is right, but there’s a lot more.”
“Like what?”
I explained to him everything I had learned so far about the vampires. From my time in the Core, in the book for the newly converted, and my firsthand experiences. Not that I had much. I’d only been a vampire for about a week. I was playing it all by ear. If there were more abilities I didn’t know about, then they weren’t showing up on their own.
“And you are saying Patrick Blordril and the rest of the Crimson Fold are all vampires?” My father asked, a hint of disbelief still in his voice. I didn’t blame him. I wished it wasn’t true either.
“Yes, but not just the Fold members.” I waved a hand in front of me to stop him from asking more. “My guide, the guy who helped dress me for the balls, he’s a vampire, and who knows how many others.” Saying it out loud made me realize how little I knew about the occupants of the Core. I knew of thirteen vampires including myself, not including Marsha since I wasn’t sure if he had been converted yet, but there had to be more. Right?
“Okay, so we’re being controlled by vampires.” He wiped the top of my lip with his fingers and then clucked his tongue. “But if they were feeding on us, why wouldn’t we have heard about it? There haven’t been any disappearances. Unexplained deaths.”
I stared at him. Willing him to figure it out. When he seemed like he wasn’t ever going to get there, I stepped in. “It’s pretty obvious when you think about it. They send invitations out to specific people. Young people, who are all attractive, and within a certain age range. Then some of those people come back, and others didn’t.”
My father’s expression went from grim to shocked to horrified. He scrambled to his feet, his finger shaking in the air. “You’re telling me the election. The whole thing is a big cover up for them to feed on our children?”
I nodded.
The rage that came out from my father was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. He shouted and kicked the side of the makeshift table, toppling it over. Pacing the floor once more, he muttered to himself. Finally, when it didn’t look like his anger would abate on its own, I stepped in front of his path and put my hands up.
“Stop. Please. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. Nobody did.” I grabbed his shoulders when he tried to argue. “You. Didn’t. Know.”
“But I let you,” - he cupped my face, tears brimming in his eyes - “my only child, go into that den of monsters. You’re right. Nothing I could have imagined was even close to the horrors you must have faced.” He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. “No wonder you wanted to leave.”
I let out a deep breath. Now the moment of truth. The part that would decide if my father could accept me in any form, monster and all.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.” I swallowed and blinked several times. “That night. The night of my wedding.” I stepped back from him, making sure there was a bit of distance between us, the violent display I’d just witnessed still clear in my mind.
“What? What is it?” my father came toward me, but I held a hand up to stop him. He growled and stomped his foot. “Just tell me.”
Instead of saying the words, I opened my mouth, letting my fangs slip between my lips. My father didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t even seem to respond. But then he blinked and uttered one word, “Oh.”
Chapter 5
My father left in a hurry after my confession. Not that I didn’t understand. If he had come to me saying that he was one of the monsters I'd heard of growing up, I’d have done more than rush out the door.
Oh, wait. I did do that.
As I laid down for the day, I thought about the final night of the election. Patrick had been so charming then. I mean, he was still charming now, but I knew how dangerous he actually was. I’d been so determined to leave that my affection for him had caught me by surprise. Then he took my first kiss and warped it, turning into the monster I’d never known I should have feared.
I imagined that would be my last kiss ever. Not unless Marsha accepted me for the way I was now or by some miracle I forgave Patrick. Some part of me knew it wasn’t his fault. He was shoved into a corner, he didn’t have a choice, but still, if I had the choice between dying and becoming a vampire ... well, I wasn’t sure.
I’d love to say I was righteous enough to say, “No, I’d rather die,” but I was also selfish enough to want to live, no matter the cost.
A bang on the door of the shack made my eyes snap open. I sat upright, the light filtering in through the cracks of the shed. It was morning already? When had I fallen asleep?
I didn’t have time to get up or make myself presentable before the door to the shack was thrown open. Frozen against the wall, I waited for the intruder to come into my hiding spot, but when my father’s face appeared, I instantly relaxed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting up. “You don’t usually come this early.”
He didn’t answer me right away but pulled the door shut and sighed, his back still to me. When he turned around, the expression on his face could only be described as cautious. Was my father afraid of me? That was something I’d never hoped to see.
“I’m sorry, Clara,” he started, calling me by my nickname. He never called me Clara. It was always Clarabelle. It was only when he was trying to soften the blow of something that he used the shorter version of my name. I wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but I was already worried.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” I stood up and took a step toward him.
He moved back, and I stopped. Well, that answered it. He was afraid of me. I leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the shack and waited. The only way I’d be able to get us both through this was to go at his pace. After all, I had forever.
My father shifted near the door, shame on his face, probably because of his reaction to me. I wanted to reassure him, but this was something I couldn’t help him with, no matter how much I wanted to.
“I wanted to apologize for my reaction yesterday.” He coughed and shuffled his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was just taken by surprise. All this talk about monsters and vampires, and I never expected my daughter to be one of them.”
My foot moved forward on its own, and I opened my mouth to explain, but he held his hand up, a pleading look in his eyes.
“Please, don’t. It’s not that I’m worried you’ll hurt me, I just need time to process all this.” He rubbed his hand over his face and then dropped it to his side. “I just want to know one thing.”
“Of course.” I shook my head slightly. “Ask me anything.”
“Why?”
My brows furrowed, and I cocked my head to the side. “Why?”
He finally moved away from the wall and came toward me, his arms opened to me. “Why would you want to do this to yourself? Why would you want to live forever?”
I snort-laughed. And then I honestly laughed. I leaned over my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath from laughing so hard. When I stood back up, my father did not seem amused.
“I don’t see how this is at all funny. Becoming a vampire is a serious matter. You can’t ever age. Have children. You’ll always have to hide from those around you.”
Clearing my throat, I said with a solemn tone, “I know, which is why I didn’t ask for this.”
“You didn’t?” My father’s eyes widened a fraction. “Then how did this happen?” He gestured to me with a hand.
I sniffed. “How do you think? They knocked me out, tied me down, and forced me to change.”
My father was quiet for a moment the look on his face scary even to me. His voice came out low and threatening as he said, “Who did this to you?”
I started to tell him it was Patrick, but something stopped me. I closed my mouth and then opened it
again, my head turned away from him. “I don’t know. I woke up like this.”
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t believe me, but then suddenly, he pulled me into his embrace. I tensed at first before letting my arms wrap around him. Inhaling him deeply, I let myself sink into the comfort he was offering. After all this was said and done, I wasn’t sure when I’d get to - if ever - hug my father like this again.
Withdrawing from me, my father looked down on me as if searching for something.
“What is it?” I reached up to touch my cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No.” He chuckled and cupped my cheeks. “I just was expecting there to be more of a difference in you. Something that screamed I’m a vampire. I’m happy you still look like you.” He sighed and dropped his hands. “Though, I have to say I’m a little disappointed.”
“Disappointed?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Well, yes. How else are we going to be able to tell who’s a vampire and who isn’t? I hardly think they are all going to let us hold them down and look at their teeth.” The grim smile on his face wasn’t reassuring.
“I get what you mean.” My tongue slid across my own fangs before I realized I had done it. Forcing my tongue to stay where it belonged, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “Is that all you came here for? To confirm you hadn’t been dreaming?” I offered him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. When he didn’t return my smile, I frowned. “Father?”
He seemed to close in on himself, his shoulders hunching and his hand going up to grip the back of his neck. He wouldn’t meet my gaze as he said, “Some of the herders have come to me about something attacking the animals.”
I swallowed hard and went for innocent until proven guilty. “Attacking them? Like what?”
My father shrugged. “I don’t know. There were no wounds, just dried blood in their fur. So, either they are being healed, or someone is just dumping blood on them.” He made an impatient sound. “What I don’t get is that it’s completely random. There was a cow a few days ago, a goat after, and then a sheep. Now, this morning they have said another cow has been marked.”
