by P. Mattern
I felt dizzy as we circled each other, neither one of us wanting to inflict the next blow, but knowing that if we didn’t both of us would suffer, maybe even die, for not putting on a good show.
I was still wondering what to do next when she hissed at me, “Shield”.
Immediately I struck a blow with all my strength at her shield. She appeared to be slow to protect herself and lose her grip on her shield. It spun away to a distance of about 4 feet from us, and then I struck again at her unprotected shoulder.
It wasn’t what I expected. I didn’t think I would feel the blade enter her as if it were an extension of my arm. But I felt everything, though it seemed to occur in slow motion. There was an initial spongy resistance of her flesh to the sharp metal, then it slid into her as easily as a knife through butter. My stomach gave a sickening lurch as I watched the blood spill out of her and soak the front of her tunic. Her face and lips turned white and she started to say something, Then her eyelids fluttered up and she slumped to the ground.
The crowd roar that surrounded us echoed in my ears as I watch several attendants bring a linen stretcher and carry her slack and motionless body away. My mind was reeling. Had I actually murdered her accidently? My heart began pounding along with my mounting fear but at that moment I heard my name being called.
“Candidate Tristina,” the Prince was saying, ”Please approach!”
Perspiring profusely and weak in the knees I stumbled forward toward the grandstand. I noticed that Seth and Eutropia had joined the Prince’s entourage and were staring down at me also. Eutropia looked particularly displeased.
“The conqueror must decide what the conquered’ fate shall be,” the Prince intoned.”I will give you a choice. Her eye or her hand.”
I was slow to glean what the prince was referring to, then filled with horror as I realized the choice set before me. He was asking me to choose which body part Theda would lose as her punishment for being defeated. I hesitated.
“CHOOSE CANDIDATE,” The Prince intoned, sounding irritated
Her strange words at our first meeting drifting back to me. “Given a choice, Tristina, which would you rather lose, your hand or your eye?” she had asked me, then in return had revealed her own grisly preference:
Her eye.
“Eye,” I told the Prince, unflinchingly. I was numb with both the horror of the situation and also my pronouncement, knowing that Theda would be maimed because of it.
(‘But she must have known that’ part of me argued. ‘When she talked about throwing the fight, she knew what the consequences could be –and she had accepted those consequences in advance. I hadn’t had time to drill her about her decision. At the time I had assumed that her decisions were based on the same premise as most of my decisions had been since I had found myself in this very strange place:
SURVIVAL.
But the Prince was speaking again.
“It shall be as you say then,” he intoned.”I look forward to meeting you in my chambers privately, Candidate.”
With that he turned on his heel and left with his entourage. I happened to lock eyes with Seth before he turned like the obedient lap dog he was and trotted after Eutropia. He winked and made an obscene motion with his tongue before he left.
Typical Seth.
The aggravating thing was that I had figured out how Seth posed as a typical high schooler by day and still managed to show up in this Norwegian netherworld almost daily. He was a vampire too, further along on the continuum than I was, and obviously didn’t ever need to sleep. I was convince that the Victorian house I had been taken to on the very fringe of my school district must have contained a portal of some kind. It was the only way they could have gotten me here.
TO THE VICTOR
As I was reflecting I found myself walking through strange hallways with my own entourage: a couple military types that were dressed in black uniform type clothing and three females in dove grey attire, their hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of their necks, their faces expressionless.
The one walking directly in front of me stopped abruptly and opened a door going into the stone wall.
“In here, miss,” she intoned, gesturing.
Once inside I was stripped of my battle gear and shoved, albeit gently, into a sort of shower stall consisting of a small waterfall tumbling from three feet above me, it’s source apparently somewhere within the stone wall. The water felt wonderful cascading over my sore, wounded, and bruised body.
I felt hands on my body, covered in gloves that were textured like a softer version of a loofah sponge. They were smoothing a liquid soap that had a citrusy scent over me, and I found myself grateful for their therapeutic and relaxing touch. I closed my eyes as the water flowed over me, letting myself get lost in the sensations.
Time passed without my noticing. For the first time since my abduction I was lulled into a sense of security, the warmth of the water (which I figured must be spring water because it had a marvelously refreshing quality to it) was soothing. Part of my relaxed state was due to my extreme fatigue. I was glad for the tiredness though…it dulled my anxiety about what would become of Theda, and my immense confusion over her being willing to be maimed rather than presented to the Prince.
I was deeply lost in a myriad of thoughts when I became aware that someone was behind me. All my sense alerted and sent out multiple alarms at once.
I attempted to turn quickly but two strong hands placed on top of my scrawny shoulder blades prevented me from turning. Speaking against the side of my neck close to my ear a resonant masculine voice commanded in a hushed tone, ”Whatever you do, don’t turn around Tristina!”
I did exactly as I was told, my mind running through a million scenarios. The Prince was under the waterfall with me. From what I could sense and see without turning my head the servants had left us alone.
I could feel his hands descend to caress my nude body. He did it slowly with a kind of reverence, first sliding his hands down over my sides past my ribcage, then tenderly encircling my waist with them.
“Just shy of a hand span waist,” he said against the back of my neck, causing delicious shivers to run up and down my spine.”I approve. And your derriere…” he continued, sliding his hands down even further, "Aaaaaah…poetry!”
His breathing against my neck was growing deeper. He slipped his hands around my abdomen and linked them as he pressed himself up against me from behind, pulling me back against him.
I felt him against my back, a ridge of flesh pressed against my backside that extended well past my tailbone.
I waited for further intimacies, feeling helpless to defend against them and realizing in some faraway corner of my mind that I didn’t want to. He’d awakened something in me that made me want more, that WILLED him to touch my forbidden places.
Then, as suddenly as he’d appeared, he was gone .Although the showerfall was the same pleasant temperature I felt colder without his warmth radiating around me from behind.
Two attendants reappeared and stood on either side or me, both holding towels. I stepped out as one of them towed my hair partially dry, the other drying off my body completely, even the area between my legs.
“Do you think that he will like it?” one asked the other, pointing to the triangle of pubic hair between my thighs.
“Hmmmmm…reddish blonds and curly…a bit different,” the other attendant answered, as if I weren’t even there, ”I think he might. I think we should leave it. He only likes the dark ones shaved.”
I found myself flushing at their casual remarks, feeling like an object, a statue that was being polished up to be presented as a gift to the Prince. I wished that I had disobeyed him and turned to see his face. I still had no idea what he looked like. And apparently neither did anyone else. It was accepted that he always wore a head covering or mask. For all I knew he was deformed or had been injured in some way.
But I remembered his hands. I had seen them, and they were beautiful for a man’s han
ds. And I had memorized his voice also. It was deep and resonant, with just a tinge, an undercurrent, of silkiness.
Whatever he looked like, whatever he was, I was almost certain that his voice and hands would do me no harm, whatever this night would bring.
The underwear that the attendants brought to me seemed a mystery…there was a camisole of silky material in an eggshell color, and then over that a corset with the breasts cut out that laced up the back. Instead of panties there were a pair of what looked like bloomers.
I couldn’t stand it, it was too ridiculous. I had to say something.
“Did you ladies know that the bra was invented?” I asked in a conversational tone. “It’s a sort of harness that goes over the shoulders and fastens either in the back or the front to support the breasts!”
One of the attendants, the younger one with blonde hair pinned back in a bun, straightened up and looked at me narrowly.
“Oh! You mean something like this?” she asked, lifting her tunic in the front to reveal a Victoria’s Secret push up bra with a leopard pattern, "Yeah, I think I HAVE heard of them, now that you mention it. But that isn’t how the Prince wants you. He likes his maidens to wear more traditional clothing. He finds it more seductive and enticing. “
Although I was nonplussed I was just happy to be having some sort of conversation.
“Aha-so the Prince is stuck in a time warp!” I said in a cheerful tone.
“Not really,” the older attendant answered me ”He is an immortal. He has seen centuries .And you are looking very pale…you must drink something! I will fetch you a glass!”
As soon as she left the room, the younger girl and I eyed each other warily. I decided I liked her. She seemed more intelligent, and sort of cheeky.
“I’m Tristina,” I said, stepping closer to her. She seemed to be giving off a wonderful fragrance, something I couldn’t quite place.
As a counterpoint to my single step forward, she took a step backward.
“I’m Pam,” she said, “And don’t get offended, but you are a newly bitten. If I stand too close to you will bite me, you won’t be able to help it. You are half turned into a vampire now. Can’t you tell that you are changing?”
My hand involuntarily went to my throat, which seemed parched. A pulse began pounding in my temple. Pam was right. It was impossible that I was able to function on as little sleep as I’d had. Not only that, but I could swear that my decent perky 34 B cup breasts had grown somehow into a C cup. My body felt more like a woman’s body that that of a girl.
I started to speak but Pam interrupted me.
“Your eyes!” she said, staring, “Look into the mirror at your eyes!”
I turned and walked over to the full-length mirror along one wall. I could see what she was referring to without even going in for a close-up.
My eyes were glowing as though lit from within. They were the most exquisite shade of blue green, and I stood fascinated as I saw my reflection.
Somehow in the past few hours I had become beautiful. Not just humanly beautiful, but the otherworldly kind of beautiful that you only see in specially retouched Vogue photoshoots or Comic books. This beauty was surreal, and made me blink multiple times to see if the vision before me was indeed reality.
I was mesmerized by my appearance. Even dressed in the undergarments I looked like an otherworldly being, one without overgrown eyebrows or glasses. I could see perfectly without them now. My eyelashes were longer and curly and dark instead of sandy colored and insignificant.
The door opened and then closed again as the older woman returned, She was carrying a tray with a rubelite liquid in a clear decanter.
This time I knew that it was blood. And as a fierce craving overwhelmed all of my sensibilities I realized that it was all that I wanted.
I was there the instant the woman placed the tray down on a low table, and she jumped back to get out of my way as I ignored the goblet sitting beside it and, removing the crystal top from the decanter, tilted it upwards and began drinking it in noisy gulps. It didn’t taste anything like blood was supposed to taste. It tasted like sun-warmed strawberries, sweet and at the same time refreshing.
I never stopped until I drained the decanter.
After I finished drinking I felt completely refreshed and revitalized. Also calmer. I stood perfectly still as they finished dressing me for the Presentation to the Prince. And the entire time I was thinking.
If I were a vampire, I conceivably had enhanced abilities. I might be able to fly. I was certainly stronger and impervious to cold. If I could find a way out of the Silo there was a chance that I could escape and return home. I hated how I had left things. Desi may not have been my real mother but she had raised me, and I loved her. She hadn’t deserved my disrespect and my rejection the day I had left to go to school and never returned. She and my dad didn’t deserve the grief that they were going through now, thinking that I had been murdered.
Whatever I was now, I knew that I needed to return, if only to let them know that I loved them.
It was time to face the Prince again. My attendants stood back so that I could survey myself in the floor length mirror. I nearly gasped at the reflection that greeted my eyes,
The gown was pink—a color I never wear because of my ginger hair. But it was such a rare and delicate shade of pink that it flattered both my complexion and my hair color perfectly and even brought out the light sea green of my eyes.
It was tight at the waist and included some curious silver embroidery across the snug fitting bodice. Around m y throat was a gold chain with a cabochon ruby set into it, and in my ears, diamonds of a carat or more. My cheeks were flushed. My hair was pulled back from my face on the sides and gathered into a small bun at the back.
I could hardly recognize myself. My attendants looked pleased at my reaction.
“Time to go then,” the older woman said briskly. The smile that had flickered at the corners of her mouth for a second vanished , and she was all business again.
I walked between the two attendants, unsure of where we were heading. We seemed to be walking on a spiral path that inclined upwards. I could feel fresh air currents on my face at one point and thought I might eventually see daylight. My pulse raced at this thought. So much of this strange kingdom seemed to be underground, I became excited at the prospect of seeing the sky again.
My hopes were answered as we reached a double doorway onto a terraced roof. Snow swirled at my feet, blindingly white and as fine as grains of sand. The snow made a scouring sound as it was blown in circular patterns over the broad flat flagstones that we were walking on. I looked up into the sky that encircled us and was slightly disappointed. Rather than blue and peerless, it was an endless pearl gray. It made me feel as if I were on the inside of a pearl.
Ahead of us was a wonder—a dome shaped blue building that was translucent, a large arched door was manned by two soldiers on either side, who stood at attention as we approached.
“This is Tristina,” the attendant announced to them, gesturing to me, "She is to be Presented.”
Wordlessly the soldiers stood aside and opened the massive doors for us. I noticed that all of them had the same long dark hair and features similar to Seth’s.
I wondered if Seth was a clone.
Stepping inside I noticed that the atmosphere changed immediately. The air was high in humidity, as if we were in a tropical climate. The dome was lined with tropical vegetation along the outer walls: palm trees, coconut trees, and other smaller vegetation, including beautiful orange, pink, purple and yellow exotic lilies and other flowers.
I took a moment to breathe in the sweet perfumes and the vibrant green smell of the place, feeling as if I couldn’t get enough of it after the sterile sparseness of the lower chambers. Sick of gray stone surroundings, my eyes longed for beauty and color, and my head swiveled as I attempted to get my fill.
In the central courtyard, half a football field away from the front door, I saw a throne situate
d against a back drop of three small waterfalls issuing from what appeared to be a wall of ice—the same sort of endless ice that surrounded us on all sides for endless miles outside of the Silo>
The Prince was sitting on the throne, and he was still wearing a mask. This time the mask was golden however, the edges bordered with tiny ebon jewels that glinted in the light of the huge chandelier hanging above the center of the chamber and the torches set into the walls around us.
He was wearing black from head to toe. A voluminous black silk shirt open to the middle of his well muscled chest, He sat casually, expressionless, although admittedly I couldn’t see much of his expression below the mask. He had on impressive black boots that were decorated with silver studs.
My attendants quietly deserted me. I felt uncomfortable standing in front of a man seated on a throne. A throne seemed silly and pretentious and decidedly un-American.
“I am wondering what you’re thinking,” he said. Under the curve of his mask I detected a slight smile as he spoke.
“I’m thinking that I am an American citizen being held hostage by a guy who thinks it’s always Halloween…THAT’S what I am thinking, since you asked!”
I thought the smile disappeared for a second, but then he surprised me by tilting back his head and laughing.
“You’re a TRIP lady! Thank you for your candidness.”
“You’re welcome,” I answered, automatically, not really sure what to make of his reaction.
He seemed to be studying me. The sudden silence between us was palpable.
“How does that wall of ice behind you not melt?” I asked, honestly curious. The interior of the dome was tropically warm. I didn’t see how such an elaborate wall decoration was sustainable in such an environment.”
