by Kristen Reed
God, please give me the discernment I need to make a decision that honors you, and help me trust you enough to walk the path you have given me … even if it makes my own plans impossible.
♦ ♦ ♦
As promised, Augustus dropped my food off as soon as one of the slaves delivered it. Though he’d left me in peace to eat my waffle as I prayed, worried, and contemplated my situation, the vampire knocked on the door again shortly after dusk. In the hours since my breakfast delivery, Augustus had traded his pajamas for a single-breasted midnight blue suit with a pressed white shirt and silver tie. I, on the other hand, was still in the jeans and loose-fitting tank top that I had pilfered from the closet before my shower. As refreshing as a warm, leisurely shower should have been after several days of quick, chilly ones, I felt far from relaxed. The vampire’s reappearance didn’t exactly help matters either.
“It’s almost time for dinner,” he announced. “You should get dressed.”
“Define dinner.”
“We will be eating solid food.”
“I didn’t realize vampires could eat normal food.”
“We can. It just doesn’t do anything for our appetites,” he clarified. “Do you need help choosing an appropriate outfit? The coven prefers to dress in formal attire for dinner.”
“No, and I’m not changing.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to dress up like I’m celebrating something or trying to impress someone when I’m about to be waited on by my own kind while I eat with the vampires who are enslaving them.”
“We’re your kind too,” he reminded me.
“Even if I’m a dhampir, I was raised as a human.”
Augustus chuckled softly as he walked into the closet.
“You are going to resist this every step of the way, aren’t you,” he called as he looked through the collection of expensive clothing at my disposal.
“I don’t want the slaves to think that I’m okay with what’s going on here or that I don’t feel any compassion for them. If I show up decked out in fancy clothes, what kind of message will I be sending them?”
The vampire stepped out of the closet and handed me a black and white tweed blazer. My eyes immediately focused on the name on the tag as well as the two interlocking C’s that made up the iconic brand’s logo. Despite my initial excitement, I tried to hide my admiration for the designer jacket, which probably cost more than the contents of my duffle bag back at Gospel Gateway. It was definitely a huge departure from the maxi skirts, basketball shorts, and sweat wicking shirts I’d been wearing all week.
“At least put this on. You’ll feel more comfortable if you do.”
I rocked back and forth on my heels for a moment as I mulled over his suggestion.
“Fine.”
Once I pulled on the blazer, Augustus looked me over and gave me what would have been a disarming smile of admiration under normal circumstances.
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
Then, Augustus unlocked my bedroom door and we stepped into the hallway.
“Who else is going to be at dinner,” I asked as we walked down the carpeted stairs to the ground floor.
“A few coven members and their personal slaves usually come to dinner. The rest don’t enjoy eating human food anymore.”
“What are personal slaves?”
I already had a feeling that I knew the answer to my question, but I needed Augustus to confirm my suspicions.
“Vampires use their personal slaves for blood, sex, and companionship,” he explained bluntly. “Many of the personal slaves escape their reality with the drugs and alcohol that their masters or mistresses provide.”
My stomach turned as Augustus described how the personal slaves lived. It sounded like a nightmarish combination of sex trafficking and the exploitation of African American slaves in the antebellum south. At first, I hoped that none of those slaves would show up for dinner so I wouldn’t have to witness their oppression firsthand. However, I changed my tune when I recognized my own selfishness … again. Whether they were sitting across the table from me or being abused out of sight, monsters would still be using and taking advantage of them. According to Augustus, I had the power to set them free.
Maybe seeing them in action will help me make a decision.
As we strolled past an elaborate living area with a grand piano, perfectly preserved antique furniture, and shining hardwood floors, I realized that I had already made a decision about which side I wanted to live on. Living as a vampire meant that I would be condoning and perpetuating the humans’ exploitation no matter how temperate I was, but I’d be a victim of it if I chose to remain a mortal. Collaborating with Augustus was another matter though. Even if I went along with his plan and it worked, I would become the very thing that disgusted me. Even though it was a lose-lose-lose situation, I was more content with losing my comfort than losing my humanity.
God, please help me make the right decision.
When Augustus and I walked into the dining room, I could immediately tell the vampires from the slaves despite how stylishly and immaculately dressed everyone was. I normally would have felt anxious because of how casual my clothes look compared to their black tie attire, but compassion edged out my insecurity as I furtively glanced around the table.
There were only two humans at dinner — one man and one woman. The blonde male slave wore a classic tuxedo and sipped on champagne as his glazed over, bloodshot hazel eyes took in the room. His vacant gaze slid over to me and I remembered Augustus explaining that the personal slaves checked out of the real world with the help of drugs. Whatever he had taken must have been strong because there was barely a flicker of awareness in his eyes as he stared through me. The female vampire beside him leaned over to whisper something in his ear and he instantly removed his bowtie before unfastening the first few buttons on his shirt. The female vampire leaned in with her eyes blackened and fangs exposed, but Emmanuel spoke before she could bite him.
“No blood at the table, Danielle. You and I can enjoy Anna’s and Patrick’s charms later.” the coven leader interrupted as he stroked the lush black hair of the equally detached Indian woman who sat beside him. “Besides, I haven’t even introduced you to our potential new coven member yet.”
“I have already met Augustus,” she disputed, taking a drink of her champagne as she eyed my undead escort. “I wasn’t aware that you were considering joining the coven, my lord.”
“I’m not. Clara is.”
Danielle looked me up and down from under her glossy black bangs similar to how Augustus had earlier, but her reaction was one of displeasure not appreciation.
“A human? You must be kidding.”
“Clara is a dhampir,” Emmanuel corrected. “Grayson and the others discovered her during the harvest in Manonette, and I have given her the chance to choose her fate.”
“Fascinating,” she said, studying me more intently. “Is there anything I can say to sway you either way, Clara?”
“No, thank you.”
Augustus pulled out my chair for me, forcing me to sit across from Danielle’s slave. The handsome young man continued to stare into space and his chemically induced indifference was nearly as disturbing as Danielle’s predatory, disapproving gaze.
“Then have you made a decision,” Emmanuel asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, that’s better than an out and out rejection,” he said as he snapped his fingers at the slave standing by the door.
The tuxedo-clad Latino poked his head out the door and two female slaves in demure black and white housekeeping uniforms entered carrying trays. The silent submissive women set bowls of soup and baskets of freshly baked French bread on the table. Only Augustus and I thanked them for their service and the women nodded wordlessly in response before swiftly leaving the dining room.
As delicious as the food looked and smelled, the knowledge that Emmanuel had forced people to prepare, cook, and serve our meal
greatly lessened my appetite. I’d been able to forget my conviction at breakfast because Augustus had prevented me from actually seeing the slaves in action. However, between the drugged out man and woman at the table and the miserable male slave standing at attention by the door, my hunger plummeted.
“You don’t like lobster bisque,” Emmanuel asked.
“I do. I just—”
“I doubt her preferences are the problem,” Danielle cut in. “Whether you eat with the slaves or the masters, your food will be prepared by slaves. You can either accept that reality or starve. It’s your choice.”
As harsh as Danielle’s interruption was, she was right. No matter what, I would be eating food that was purchased with the freedom and blood of the men and women Emmanuel kept in bondage. However, that didn’t mean that I had to gorge myself on it. I would eat just enough to keep my strength up and not a single bite more. I unenthusiastically picked up my spoon and began to eat after silently blessing the food and praying for the slaves. The soup was so wonderfully flavorful that for one fleeting moment I forgot who had cooked it and how Emmanuel had acquired their services. After I savored a few spoonsful of soup and a few bites of bread, I sat back and made conversation as I waited for the next course.
“Have you ever set any of your slaves free or turned one into a vampire,” I asked.
“No,” Emmanuel answered.
“Why not?”
“Because they are too damaged to be useful as vampires and I have no reason to release them.”
“Did you abduct all of your slaves or were some of them born here?”
“They were all imported from elsewhere.”
I cringed inwardly. Products were imports, not people, but Emmanuel’s choice of words showed just how little he valued his slaves’ lives. They were nothing but warm-bodied commodities to him.
I feel like I’ve slipped into a rabbit hole and landed in some twisted mash up of nineteenth century America and a Bram Stoker novel.
“I don’t think your little dhampir approves of our methods,” Danielle quipped with a smirk.
“And yet she hasn’t turned down my offer,” Emmanuel pointed out. “She must not disapprove too much.”
While I wanted to tell him just how deeply I disagreed with their oppressive lifestyle, something told me that I should hold my tongue. Instead of lashing out, I tried to calm myself and release my irritation. Righteous anger was one thing, but I wanted to rip Emmanuel a new one literally and metaphorically. That wasn’t good.
As I tried to lower my racing pulse to a resting pace, Augustus took my hand, which I’d clenched into a tight fist in my lap. I flinched at his touch and immediately removed my hand from his grip to reach for the champagne in front of me. The instant I touched the flute, I realized that swallowing the expensive, sparkling beverage would do nothing for my agitation. Leaning on alcohol to dull my senses instead of turning to God for clarity was a horrible idea. Every time I’d gone down that path before, I’d wasted precious time and created new regrets.
God, if there is something I should say in this situation, please give me the words. If you want me to keep my mouth shut, give me peace in my silence, I prayed as I focused on the gold candle flickering in front of me.
As I focused on the candle’s flame and waited for words of wisdom to spark in my mind, my heartbeat slowed, my anger waned, and my anxiety decreased. Exhaling slowly, I let my frustration fall away, but I didn’t forget the reason for it. Recklessly speaking out against the coven’s practices wouldn’t change anything. Emmanuel’s and Danielle’s hearts were hardened to the humans they oppressed. Nothing I said in anger would soften them.
“You have placed a heavy burden on Clara’s shoulders,” Augustus said. “Since last night she has had to come to terms with the fact that vampires exist, that she is not entirely human, and that the humans under your thumb are slaves. Few people would be able to comprehend our existence as quickly as she has without at least some resentment or confusion.”
“Are you saying that you share Clara’s disdain for our way of life,” Emmanuel asked.
“I wouldn’t have accepted your generous payment if I did,” he pointed out. “I only mean that she has a lot of adjusting ahead of her. After all, who of us can say that we instantly celebrated or even accepted the existence of vampires as humans? I knew of our kind for months before my maker finally gave me the gift of eternal life. Even then, I called her a monster and shunned her for weeks after first finding out what she was … and I deeply loved her at the time. At this moment, the only people Clara likely feels any affection for are the three humans in this room.”
“You make a good point,” Emmanuel mused. “It’s been so long since I was a human that I’ve forgotten most of that life.”
“Only because you chose to forget,” Augustus teased with a smile. “Remembering your mortality is the key to appreciating your immortality.”
The coven leader returned the grin and directed his attention to me again.
“If earning your devotion is the key to winning you over to our side, perhaps I should give you more than a few days.”
“Why are you being so accommodating, Emmanuel? She is barely more than a human and she’s not even intelligent enough to see the value in what you are offering her.”
“I’ve realized over the centuries that those who present the greatest challenges tend to make the greatest allies in the end. They are enormously grateful that you never gave up on them and appreciate that you saved them from the emptiness and brevity of human life,” he said. “I also find our little dhampir incredibly intriguing.”
Emmanuel snapped his fingers again and the two slaves who had served us before returned in a matter of seconds with plates of filet mignon with lobster béarnaise, asparagus, and roasted mushrooms. My mouth began to water the instant my plate was set in front of me, but I still managed to do as I had done before and only ate enough of each dish to satisfy my hunger. I could feel Augustus’ eyes on me as I quietly set down my fork and stopped eating long before everyone else. Mercifully, neither he nor the others at the table commented on my light eating. As I cast a furtive glance around the table, I noticed that the two slaves had all but cleaned their plates and were swallowing the pills that their more clear-headed counterparts had dropped off with their meals.
“They’re taking vitamins,” Augustus said while Emmanuel and Danielle began a side conversation. “They help with blood production and prevent anemia. The personal slaves take those along with a few other elements as part of a daily regimen called a feeding kit.”
I nodded in understanding and began to turn my dessert fork over repeatedly on the ivory tablecloth. The vampires had tyranny down to an eerily effective science.
“Was the story you told about the woman who turned you true,” I asked.
“Yes, Cassandra and I were lovers for a decade before she told me that she was a vampire.”
“If you spent ten years together, why didn’t you notice that she wasn’t aging?”
“Beauty and love can be quite distracting when you’re young and naive.”
“If you were that in love, why didn’t you marry her?”
“My father would have disowned me for marrying a courtesan. I was his oldest son and who I chose as my wife was a matter of politics and image not love no matter how charming and accomplished she was.”
“I guess that makes sense, but why would she be a courtesan if she was a vampire? Was someone forcing her?”
“No, Cassandra was very much in control of her life when I met her. People were less likely to discover that she was a vampire because of her profession. She could entertain her benefactors, drink their blood, and mesmerize them into thinking their lightheadedness was from ecstasy instead of blood loss. Cassandra would stay in a city for a decade or so and then migrate to a new one before anyone could question her unchanging youth.”
“Is that why she finally told you?”
“Yes, Cassandra’s time i
n Rome was coming to an end. She wanted me to come with her to the next city, but I could only accompany her if she turned me into a vampire.”
“So you chose to become one.”
Augustus nodded, finishing off his champagne.
“How long ago was this?”
“Close to six hundred years ago.”
I slumped back in my chair, feeling like someone had knocked the wind out of me. Augustus had been a vampire longer than America had been a country. For a moment, I found myself wondering if there were any vampires old enough to have witnessed the crucifixion, but I directed my attention back to the seemingly immortal man beside me before my mind could wander too far.
“Are you two still together?”
“No, our romance ended a century after she changed me, and I haven’t seen her in almost two hundred years.”
“How in the world do you break up with someone after a hundred years?”
“With tears and bloodshed,” he answered as the slaves cleared away our plates and set chocolate mousse covered cheesecake in front of us. “Her maker returned after two hundred years of neglect and he challenged me to a duel for her affections. He was five times my age and he would have killed me if she hadn’t asked him to show mercy.”
“I’m sorry.”
The vampire shrugged as he began eating his dessert and I dug into mine as well. Despite how flavorful and velvety the cheesecake was, Augustus’ story fascinated me to the point of distraction. Since I hadn’t imagined that a vampire could love, I began to wonder what their ability to love meant. Was their take on love different from mine or had their predatory nature perverted how they viewed and expressed it?
Even if their definition of love is flawed, humans don’t love perfectly either. We’re are capable of the same kind of evil that I’m witnessing on this island. While we’ve enslaved our own kind, viewed one another as little more than chattel, and satiated sadistic desires by hurting one another for sport, we’ve never had a biological need fueling our savagery and apathy. Are we really any better than vampires?
Those thoughts and countless more crossed my mind as we finished dessert and eventually parted ways with the two vampires and their impaired companions. Danielle and Emmanuel left to spend the rest of the night no doubt tormenting their slaves while Augustus escorted me back to our conjoined rooms.
