by K J Sutton
Noting the clock on the wall—coming back earlier gave me some extra time, at least—I pad across the plush carpet and retrieve a bottle of lotion from my nightstand. It was delivered just two nights ago, from our trading parter to the west, across the North Pacific Ocean. Squirting some into my hands, I go to the vanity and perch on the velvet-covered stool before it.
As I rub the lotion into my skin, I study the eyes looking back in the mirror. Brown. Simple. Unassuming. My Unawakened siblings and cousins seem eager to lose their birth colors, but I’m going to miss mine. They fit me. I push my hair away from my face. It falls right back into my eyes a moment later, of course—it’s an impossible mess of chestnut-colored curls that no heat styling or product can tame.
I’m still about to attempt it when the door opens and Gabriela slips inside. The key I gave her shines from a chain around her neck.
“You’re abusing your emergency key privileges,” I point out, picking up a wand of mascara to darken my lashes. I grin when she rolls her eyes at me. If my father were to ever catch her doing that, her head would end up on the chopping block… or worse. Even still, it gives me a warm thrill every time she does it.
The brown-skinned human approaches the vanity, its soft glow making her appear younger. But even they can’t do away with the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes—Gabriela is in her early fifties. Sometimes it still startles me when I see the streak of gray in her hair. She was assigned my Caretaker at birth. Usually, once a vampire is ten years old, the Caretaker is removed to avoid any attachments from forming. Gabriela, however, is well-liked amongst the females in my family. They pulled the strings necessary that allowed her to stay.
Wearing a strange expression, Gabriela slides a piece of folded parchment onto the vanity. Her sleeve rides up slightly, just as Alexei’s did, and I catch a glimpse of that dark band etched coldly into her smooth skin. It’s considered rude to ask a slave how they lost their freedom, and Gabriela has never willingly spoke of it, but I always wonder when her mark peers out at me. “From your father,” the human murmurs, unaware of my scrutiny.
“What is it?” I ask, shaking myself. I glance at the paper curiously, resting innocuously on the glass surface of the vanity.
“I didn’t read it, mija. How would I know? Take a look once you’re ready for bed.” Gabriela gently pushes my hands out of the way, and takes over. As she tests the heat of the curling iron, her lavender gaze meets mine in the mirror.
Every mortal has the same shade—well, every human and the Lavenders, who are shunned creatures with the misfortune of being both vampire and human—but I like to think hers are just a bit more vibrant. Richer.
“Are you nervous?” she asks in the common tongue, swirling a piece of my hair around the wand. Though Gabriela taught me Spanish as a child, the lessons stopped when Father heard me speaking it once. I imagine, had it been any one of the other Fledglings, he would have barred their access to the feeders for days, but in my case, it was only a firm scolding and getting sent to my rooms for the night.
Before I can answer, the door opens again. This time, my mother comes through, and my mouth goes dry.
Outlined by light from the hallway, I notice for the thousandth time how her frame appears more breakable than willowy. But the rest of her—the papery skin and crow-black hair, along with her tendency to only wear black clothing—is every inch the cliché of a female vampire. There’s also a silver chain around her neck, at the end of which dangles a small bottle full of blood. I once explained it to a human child as the vampiric equivalent of a wedding ring. While the Vampire King may have several wives, she must be utterly faithful to him. The blood, which is the king’s and hers mixed together, may as well be a binding contract.
However unfair my mother’s circumstances, the sight of her still makes me want to hide.
“Thank you, Gabriela,” Mother says in a level tone. An obvious dismissal.
The woman I wish was my mother sets the curling iron down and moves away, bowing gracefully. She leaves the room without another look in my direction. I hear her voice in my head, a memory from childhood. Careful, little one, careful. We can’t let them know we love each other, okay?
Once Gabriela is gone, I focus on my mother again. She doesn’t meet my gaze, though—she rarely does. It’s as if the very sight of me makes her sick. She’s birthed other children, of course. Four others, and she has no such difficulties with them. Over the years, the sting of this has faded to a dull throb, brought back in earnest only when I happen to witness a tender moment between one of my aunts and their offspring.
“Is everything all right?” I ask as I powder my nose to remove any excess shine.
She clears her throat and looks at me. Right at me. The brightness of her amber eyes is startling. “How do you feel?”
If it were Gabriela asking, I would have an entirely different answer. How do I feel? Scared. Sad. Nervous.
I have so many questions I’m not allowed to ask. Why does the color of my eyes determine the rest of my life? Why did Father insist on constructing our society this way?
But… I despise confrontation. It will only reaffirm truths I’m already painfully aware of. Most days, I’m content with our mutual denial. “I’m fine so far,” I reply, matching Mother’s polite tone. “My gums are still tender, but I know that’s normal.”
She nods, fussing with a piece of lint on her skirt that isn’t there. “The adult canines won’t finish coming in until a few days after the Awakening. That’s when your venom will be at its strongest as well, so you’ll need to be mindful when feeding to ensure you don’t overdose your feeder. ”
Tender gums are how an adolescent vampire knows what’s about to happen, but canines are just the start of it. Mature vampires are stronger, move faster, see farther, and hear better. Every sense is heightened. Granted, they need to feed more, but with the human population flourishing under Father’s rule, it’s not as if there’s a shortage of blood.
Once a vampire reaches maturity, which always happens in the days surrounding our twenty-third birthdays, our eyes change color.
The most common upon maturing is scarlet. These vampires are known for their fertility and beauty. They are sent to Kin, the most glittering of our districts, where they inevitably secure excellent marriages among the socialites of our kind.
Those with titian eyes enter the entertainment section, Las Prinix, where there’s a constant stream of music, acting, and dancing. There are even a handful of studios that produce shows and movies for streaming across the continent.
The cerulean-eyed ones dedicate their eternities to science and mathematics in Lancaster. Several of the world’s most groundbreaking advances come from this part of New Ve, and the pride in Father’s voice is unmistakable when he talks about them.
Golden-eyed vampires find themselves bound for Terreperth, a district full of gyms and armories, ready to hone our strongest into athletes or generals. New Ve’s army is small but well-known. When two of our neighboring cities broke into a territory war, Father sent our forces to aid the king of Dridcu, a vampire he’s known for centuries, even before our world split into the six cities.
Then there’s Sul, a quaint quarter bursting with artists and writers. Home to the vampires who mature with emerald eyes. It’s my hope that I will spend the rest of my days in Sul, doing what I love—reading and gardening. All those annoying questions and secret worries will evaporate, just as Father intended when he created his tidy, color-coded system. His perfect kingdom.
Everything else—hard labor and menial work—vampires leave to the humans.
“Are you hungry?” Mother asks, drawing my mind back to the present. “Would you like me to send you my favorite feeder? He’s been eating oranges for weeks, so his blood is quite divine.”
“No, thanks. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Well… good luck tomorrow,” she murmurs. It seems an odd thing to say, and a frown tugs at the corners of my mouth. Pretend
ing not to notice how her words have affected me, Mother drops the barest of kisses on my forehead and turns away.
Maybe it’s the fact my life is about to change that lends me courage. I twist on the stool, watching her move toward the door, and gather air in my lungs. “Why do you hate me?” I ask my mother’s retreating back.
The question is quiet, barely more than a whisper, but the room is so still that even a human would be able to hear it. Mother stands at the threshold for a moment, silent as the graves we fill with our victims. As that moment stretches into another one, my heart stumbles with childish disbelief. Holy shit. She’s actually going to answer.
For the first time in my twenty-three years, my mother will tell the truth of why she’s never loved me.
“Don’t be silly, Charlotte,” she says finally, the words slicing through the air like a cat o’ nine tails. With that, she leaves the room, hardly making a sound as the door closes behind her.
I stare at the paneled wood, that gleaming knob, even after she’s gone. My heart feels like there’s a bruise on it. I’m disappointed, but not surprised. Just because this is a time of change doesn’t mean everything will.
Sighing again, I drift into the marble bathroom to finish getting ready. The final touch is placing a light, golden crown on my head. Every offspring of the Vampire King is given their own once our baby fangs fall out around our twelfth year.
When I’m done, I don’t bother fixing the curls that fall messily around the crown. Instead, I grab the parchment Gabriela left on the vanity and crawl into my luxurious, four-poster bed that takes up most of the room. I slide my finger under the wax seal—Father is as old-school as they come—and, with a deep breath, I unfold the paper to start reading. His handwriting is an artform, made entirely of elegant curves and confident loops.
My dearest Charlotte,
This is a time of great change. Tomorrow, you will experience your Awakening. You will open your eyes and accept your place in this world, as countless others before you have done, and I have no doubt you’ll shine in any district. I, of course, have hopes you’ll move to Sul, close enough you’ll be able to visit your old man from time to time, and somewhere you’ll have the opportunity to explore your fondness for the written word. Know that wherever you find yourself, I will always love you, my cherished child.
My eternal love,
Father
Blinking the tears away, I look around for a place to store it that will be safe from my sisters and the cleaning staff. My gaze falls on the box Alexei made for me. How fitting. Smiling softly, I move to the table in a blur, tuck the letter inside, and return to bed.
As I pull the bedclothes over me, I think of how the letter is physical proof of what I already know—that Father isn’t always the hard creature everyone else sees. I can still recall the days where I would sit on the floor of his study and listen to him speak about his homeland. The far-off look of fondness in his eyes made the Vampire King look almost… human.
Though I try to fight it, a second image flits through me—another Fledging sitting cross-legged on that Persian rug. Another daughter listening to the Vampire King’s stories of the past. The darkness in my chest unfurls enormous, gossamer wings, and I have to push them back down by acknowledging the truth I’m so desperate to avoid.
I’m terrified of a life outside those gates.
Just admitting it seems to release some tension inside me—to my surprise and utter relief, the weight of sleep tugs at my mind. I bury myself deeper in the silk sheets. Within moments, I let it pull me into darkness.
Though the Travestys don’t believe in any god, there’s a prayer on my lips. A wordless plea for eyes as green as the growing things in my garden. I’m not a fool—I know that I’m not meant for great things. But it doesn’t seem like much to ask for happiness.
With this thought, a fragile smile upon my lips, I succumb to dreams of Sul. To the green, green streets of my future.
Chapter Two
Someone titters, then instantly gets hushed.
The scent of multiple perfumes stings my nostrils. Without opening my eyes, I know my suite is full of other royals, their pulses slow and exhales faint. My own heart threatens to pick up speed, but I keep a fierce hold over it, breathing in and out with perfect serenity. I want to be ready when I face them. When I wake up and walk into a new life.
Then, with another slow, steady breath, I finally open my eyes.
One of my cousins is leaning over me, a sliver of pale moonlight accenting the sharp angles of her face. She’s probably hoping for the first look. When her gaze meets mine, her eyes widen as horror blossoms over her round face. My breathing becomes ragged. I sit up, prompting gasps from the other vampires in my room. The crown rests beside me—it must have fallen off while I slept. I search the faces around me, hoping one of them will hint at what’s happening. In my frantic search, my eyes land on a human in the corner, wearing the drab clothing of a feeder.
When a vampire Awakens, they are ravenous. Even now, in a moment strife with confusion, the monster claws at the back of my throat. I want that feeder. I want the vein I can see throbbing in her neck from across the room.
“By the blood, what is it?” I manage, reluctantly tearing my gaze away from the dull-eyed human. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Mother!”
I can’t find her amongst the circle of aunts, sisters, and cousins. She wouldn’t have left, not during a time like this. I strain to hear the familiar sound of her heartbeat, but my own is too loud.
At last, one of my sisters presents me with a small compact mirror. Beatrix. Her face—the makeup expertly applied—gives nothing away. She may wear intricate gowns every day, her ultimate purpose to secure a wealthy husband, but she’s more warrior than any of us. Never have I seen her shed a tear or express concern about her Awakening.
I accept the mirror from her, sending a wordless plea with my eyes. What’s happening? Why won’t you tell me? Though Beatrix doesn’t turn away, her expression is stone. With no other choice, I turn to the small object I’m holding. There’s a slight tremble in my fingers as I open the mirror.
Brilliantly lavender eyes stare back at me.
“No,” I whisper. “This can’t… it isn’t…”
When I lift my gaze again, there’s several feet of space around the bed. It’s suddenly easier to breathe.
They’re distancing themselves from me, I realize. I can’t exactly blame them, since we all understand what this moment means. Not only was my mother foolish enough to betray my father, but she did it with a human. Lavenders are the scourge of our society. Abominations, Father has called them on more than one occasion. Half-human, half-vampire, they are rejected by both species and belong nowhere.
Being human would be better than being a Lavender—they aren’t impure. They aren’t the complete opposite of Father’s elite vision for New Ve. While we may have the same color eyes, humans have more rights. They can rent an apartment. They can get married. They can bear children.
Before I’m able to say a word to my family, who are all starting to gather near the exit, eyes wide and unblinking like a tree full of owls, the door flies open. It bangs against the wall and sucks any remaining warmth from the room.
“I had to see it for myself,” a voice says. Everyone in New Ve knows that voice. It’s made of rich blood and moonlit skies.
My aunts and cousins instantly part for the white ray of light that is my father. As he moves to the foot of the bed, my pulse quickens and becomes thunder in everyone’s ears. I breathe hard, unable to bring myself to raise my gaze from the duvet I wish would swallow me up. The crown glints in a slow-moving ray of moonlight.
“Look at me,” that voice hisses.
Flinching, my eyes inch upward until they land on his… and then my entire world shatters.
The Vampire King’s eyes are, fittingly, golden. The mark of a true leader. Decades ago, due to the Weeping Virus, humans became an endangered species. Someone needed t
o step forward. Someone needed to establish order and control. That’s when the Six rose to power. Five other vampires that were alive during the dark ages… and Alexander Travesty.
The vampire I’ve called ‘Father’ my entire life. All this time, a lie. And my mother knew—she knew.
Standing unnaturally still, the king stares into my eyes. His own fill with bright fury. I am living evidence of Cassandra’s defiance. I am a slap to his face. I am the deepest humiliation.
And yet, all I can think now... is that it makes sense.
My siblings and cousins are lovely and vivacious. Growing up, I’d always felt apart from them. From my aunts and uncles, too. Not just in my feelings toward humans, but physically, as well. The rest of my family can break human limbs like they’re made of Styrofoam, while I can barely hold my ground against a strong gust of wind.
Apparently your bones know things before your mind does—I just always believed my weakness was due to the irregularity of my feedings. Never in a million years would I have guessed the truth.
And neither had anyone else. Even the ancient Vampire King.
I clutch the sheet to my chest as if that alone will protect me from the creature I thought was my father. There’s murder in his eyes now, gleaming like molten gold. It’s as if I imagined the adoration I once saw in those depths.
The stillness in the room rivals a mausoleum or a tomb. I know Alexander is considering whether or not to end my life. A sob lodges in my throat as I wait for him to fly at me. Remove my head with a single blow.
The entire room holds its breath.
After another hushed, endless moment, the ancient king moves. My heart is a canon, lurching as it booms. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the inevitable burst of pain.
Instead… a gust of air whispers over my skin.
I open my eyes to see that he’s turned away. His movements are tightly controlled as he crosses the room in long-legged strides. The crown still rests on the bed, but now it’s been broken in half. The golden pieces shimmer like tears.
