by K J Sutton
I imagine it—one of the workers from the undertaker sector finding me and hauling my corpse into one of those eerie black vehicles. They’re completely square, move without a sound, and don’t appear to have any windows. Every time I saw one as a child, Gabriela refused to answer my questions. Instead, she averted her gaze and made the sign of a cross over herself.
The mental image makes my insides quiver. But the part that frightens me most, I think, is that those workers wouldn’t just be removing my body—they’d be taking away all of it. Every part that forms Charlotte Travesty. The flesh, the mind, the memory. I would be nothing but a story, and even that would eventually fade into the echoes of days past.
It would be as if I’d never been born.
Okay, done with that. I refocus on the boardinghouse and wonder what I’m about to walk into. What if a vampire hunter dwells within those walls? What if there’s a rebel living here, and they recognize me as a Travesty?
Gabriela must’ve had a reason for sending me to this place.
After a few more seconds of standing in an ice-laden wind, I shove the paranoia away and force my legs forward. Brittle leaves crunch underfoot as I climb the few stairs onto the porch, praying with each step that my foot won’t go through the rotting wood. Once I make it to the door, I reach for the brass knocker and lift it, letting it go. The sound reverberates, and I suck in a breath.
Approaching footsteps sends my heart rioting in my chest, fighting to get free.
The lock flips and, seconds later, the door opens a crack to reveal an old woman. She looks to be in her sixties, with graying hair and wrinkles etched into her face. When her bright eyes land on me, her thin lips pull back in a grimace. “What do you want?” she snaps.
I clear my throat. “Ada?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Oh, I’m—” I cut myself off. Amongst the citizens, I’ve never been all that well-known. My chances of survival will go up exponentially if no one connects me to the royals. I swallow hard before I say, “My name is Anna. I was told you might be able to help me.”
The woman’s eyes—lavender like mine—narrow, but still, she opens the door a little wider. “Talk fast.”
I blow out a soft breath. Everything in me is screaming to sink my teeth into her throat and rip it out. My gums ache with a new ferocity and my throat burns. I attempt a polite smile and pray my fangs don’t extend. “I need a place to stay,” I tell her.
She doesn’t hesitate. “No.”
Her tone is so matter-of-fact, so final. The light in her eyes shines hard as an amethyst. Seeing that, my stomach plummets. “Why not?” I ask, hoping my instincts are off, that the faint voice saying there won’t be any swaying Ada is wrong.
Her nostrils flare. “Because no one in this house has a death wish, Lavender—news spread faster than the Weeping Virus. Your face is on every screen, Charlotte of House Travesty, and now the entire world knows one of those pretty wives made a fool out of our benevolent king.”
My throat has gone dry. It shouldn’t surprise me the stations are running my story—there are only six cities left on the planet, and nothing this dramatic has happened since two princes killed each other last year in a fit of bloodlust and testosterone.
“Who are you tormenting now, Penelope?” a new voice says from behind the old woman. Something about it seems familiar, a sensation akin to a feather trailing over my skin. I try to place it. A moment later, a vampire appears in the doorway, and I’m so surprised that my head empties of all thought. Striking golden eyes surrounded by thick, dark lashes assess the situation with laser focus. She leans against the doorframe, making the wood groan with protest as she crosses her arms. “What do we have here, then?”
The old woman, who is apparently not Ada, scowls at me. “Some bad luck, that’s what.”
The vampire doesn’t move or speak. She stares at me with an expression that I can’t interpret. Her eyes are like darkened windows with the curtains drawn. I stare back, trying to smother the hope flickering through me—she hasn’t slammed the door in my face yet. “I’m not going to hurt anyone,” I tell her firmly. “You have my word. Please. The sun is coming up and I’ve been walking all night.”
The real Ada appraises me for several more beats. Feeling as if this is a test, somehow, I stare back at her without flinching. Then, slowly, she opens the door and steps aside. I hurry over the threshold before she can change her mind.
Once I’m inside, Ada closes the door and flips the lock back over. Penelope walks away, grumbling something under her breath.
I cast a tired gaze around me, a breath of relief escaping as the warmth of shelter makes my chilled skin tingle. Half-vampire or not, spending hours in the cold is uncomfortable. Just another bitter reminder that I’m not completely immortal.
Oh, god, does this mean I’ll have the lifespan of a human?
Don’t think about that right now, Charlotte. Rubbing my hands together, my eyes trail along the wood-paneled walls that run the entire length of the long foyer. Aged water-color paintings hang everywhere, and a deep red afghan rug covers the floor. At the end of the hall is a wide bookcase filled with faded spines and encased by glass doors.
Halfway down the foyer are wide doorways on either side, and I follow Ada into a parlor, decorated with old furniture. There’s a faint smell of mothballs in the air. A fire crackles in the large fireplace, spreading light and warmth through the room, and on either side are floor-to-ceiling windows framed with heavy crimson drapes.
Glancing toward the flames, I yearn to curl up on the couch in front of it and forget everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Sudden movement draws my attention away from the fire. I turn to see two humans, males who appear to be about my age—in human years—sitting on either side of a chessboard. Instead of playing, they both stare at me. It’s obvious from their expressions they aren’t thinking kind thoughts.
Ada follows my gaze and her lips turn down. “It should go without saying that if you spill a single drop of human blood in this house, I’ll put you out on your ass.”
“I won’t,” I whisper, turning my attention back to her. As starving as I am, as close as the sun is, I’m desperate for shelter. I can fight the monster that demands to be fed for a little while longer.
Without another word, Ada walks out of the room. She pauses to bend over and pet a calico cat, murmuring a greeting to it. The cat complains as she moves away, and when I attempt to inch closer to pet it, too, the creature recoils and lets out a spittle-filled hiss. I drop my hand immediately. Some things you just can’t force—especially when there’s a cat involved.
I edge past and, not sure what else to do, trail after Ada. We go across the hall and into a kitchen. My footsteps are heavy on the old linoleum floor. “Who brought you here, girl?” Ada asks as she walks to the stove and sets a kettle on the burner, igniting the flame underneath. Every movement is deft and graceful.
I stand a few yards away, uncertain of what to do with my own hands. Eventually I clasp them in front of me. “Humans who work for my family. I mean, where I came from.”
She stops to meet my gaze. “I hope you realize those humans risked their lives for you,” she says.
A chill races down my spine. I’d been in shock last night, partially numb to everything that was happening, so it hadn’t really sunk in then. How badly things could’ve gone wrong for the four humans that helped me.
I thought they’d been treating me coldly. Looking back, I realize that it was fear. Silent, tense fear for their loved ones and their own lives.
The Vampire King finds success—or what he considers such—in ruling with fear. As a result, Alexander Travesty is also known for his violent punishments. Events like floggings in Midtown or, when bored, releasing a prisoner in Calyape Park with a twisted ultimatum. If you can survive long enough to touch the wall, your crimes will be forgiven, I once heard him purr to a slave condemned for striking a vampire in the f
ace.
The vampire didn’t even bruise, but to King Alexander, it was the principle of the thing.
I push away thoughts of royal punishments and force myself to focus on what lies ahead. I need to be worthy of the chance the humans took on me… but I’ve never been this far from home. Whenever I did venture into the city, Alexei took me everywhere. I’ve never been on my own. How am I supposed to find the sewer sector? How am I supposed to fight off a weeper? I’ve only ever seen them on recordings.
Panic sets in. My head spins, and I grab the edge of the counter in front of me to steady myself.
“Christ, you look like you’re about to faint. Sit down.” Ada nods to the stool at the counter beside me.
I slide onto it with a heavy exhale, willing the dizziness to recede. After a few moments, my vision rights itself and I can focus again. But I still need to feed. That nagging hunger, the burning in the back of my throat—they’re both growing stronger. Violent impulses tug at me like quiet, dark little demons.
The whistle of the kettle snaps me out of my haze, and I watch Ada pour the boiling water into what looks like a handmade ceramic mug. “Tea?” she offers, surprising me.
“I need blood.” I’m thinking out loud, hardly aware of my own voice venturing into the stillness. When I do realize what I’ve said, my head snaps up, my eyes round with horror.
Only thunder replies to my thoughtless words, a low growl that makes the floor tremble.
Still wearing a remote expression, Ada dumps several spoonfuls of sugar into her mug, stirring it with a little metal spoon. “I have tea,” she says flatly without glancing up.
“No, thank you.” It takes conscious effort to shove down the thoughts of feeding on whatever human I can get my hands on first. Maybe that girl playing chess… she looks like an unpleasant person anyway…
Just then, new voices echo down the hall, and my head snaps up yet again. More humans. My pulse quickens, and I cringe when my mouth waters. My cheeks burn as the voices grow louder, closer, but there’s no time to flee before the voices cut off. Several humans appear in the doorway and halt when they notice me. Ada makes a sharp gesture in my peripheral vision, and they quickly backtrack out of sight.
“No fucking way,” a soft female voice says a moment later. “Is that the Quiet One?”
My brows knit together and I glance at Ada questioningly, but she doesn’t turn from the stove. “Keep walking,” she calls, and the voices retreat once more, allowing my pulse to return to a normal pace.
I shift on the stool, and my eyes wander around the kitchen, appreciating the exposed wooden beams in the ceiling, the crown moulding framing the walls, and what I can only imagine is the original flooring installed when the house was built. The cupboards are wooden as well, with a soft mint green paint that’s chipping off in some places and glass windowed doors. I almost smile at the tackiness of the giant crystal knobs—the old-fashioned and quirky decor is oddly comforting.
Ada taps her long, thin fingers against her mug, catching my attention. “You can stay two nights. By Saturday morning, I want you gone. My boarders have been through enough and they don’t need the trouble of a Lavender living under this roof.”
Relief floods through me. I press my lips together. “Thank you so much. Really, you have no idea how much I appreciate this. And I won’t even be around very much, since I have to… since I have to report to the sewer sector for work.”
She lifts an eyebrow, and for a moment, all I can do is stare—there’s something strikingly familiar about the gesture. “I’ll take payment upfront,” she says after a notable pause. “Prorated total would be sixty.”
“Of course,” I blurt, digging into my pocket to pull out the coins. Without much thought, I count out the amount and drop it on the counter in front of her.
“You’ve had all that money on you? In Oldbel?” she asks, her voice sharp. I don’t know what else to say, so I just nod. Ada starts putting the coins into a plastic sandwich bag, shaking her head as she does so. “You’re lucky you weren’t robbed in the street.”
“It’s been a strange night,” is all I say to this. I’m trying to be diplomatic, but it’s not like I had much choice—I didn’t exactly leave the mansion on good terms. Silence falls between us and quickly becomes thick with tension. I clear my throat and incline my head toward the doorway. “May I ask why that girl called me ‘the quiet one’?”
Ada turns away, saying over her shoulder, “They have nicknames for some of the royal family—to keep you all straight.”
“And I got quiet?” A faint, slightly hysterical laugh bursts from me. “I guess I should be grateful.”
“My sister wanted to name you the Mousy One,” says a male voice. I jump at the voice, whipping around to find a tall, lanky guy with sand-colored curls and a lopsided grin standing in the doorway. He continues, “But I told her that wouldn’t be accurate. Being a little quieter than everyone else doesn’t mean you’re mousy. Besides, you’re way too pretty.”
The compliment doesn’t affect me half as much as his appearance. He’s got one jean-clad leg crossed over the other and his arms folded casually over his chest. The plaid, button-up shirt he’s wearing brings out his lavender eyes. Even at a glance, I can see the ridges of muscles beneath it. His blood smells healthy and rich.
Suddenly, I’m feeling much warmer.
“Um, thanks?” It comes out sounding more like a question, which only makes my cheeks flush hotter.
His eyes glimmer with amusement. “Ada, aren’t you going to introduce us? She’s a fellow sewer rat now!”
“No,” she says flatly.
The human doesn’t look away from my face while she answers. After a moment, he cocks his head, as if he’s asked a question and expects an answer. Uncertain, I don’t react, and after another second, I drop my gaze. I take a drink of water from the glass Ada sets in front of me, not because it’ll quench my thirst, but to do something with my hands. Eventually I dare another glance at him from under my lashes.
But he’s gone.
I realize I’m chewing my lip so hard the skin tears. The bright, vibrant taste of blood bursts on my tongue, cracking the door open of that cage inside me.
Fuck. I’ll have to find a public feeding facility. My choices are limited—non-existent, really.
Something hard and desperate steals over me. “How do you… sustain yourself?” I ask Ada, fumbling over the words.
“That’s private,” she says, sipping her tea.
The hunger grips me even tighter, and I narrow my eyes at her. An instant later, without any warning, my fangs pop out.
The other vampire slams her mug down on the counter—tea sloshes over the sides and onto the counter—and snarls at me, baring her own fangs for a moment before they retract into her gums. “Do not threaten me.”
The flash of pure, animalistic fury makes my breath catch. “Who are you, really?” I demand. Why the hell would Gabriela send me here?
“You ask the question, but you aren’t prepared to know the answer.” There’s a thinly-veiled warning in her low voice.
I let out a breath, frustration blazing through me now. Whoever she is, she must be old. Only Elders are so skillful at dodging every question. “Why are you in Oldbel? Why aren’t you—”
“Listen closely, because this is the only free advice you’ll get from me—don’t ask questions. Ever. Questions get you killed.” Ada is quiet for a moment before her expression smooths out. “Breakfast is at 6:20 p.m. and supper is at 3:00 a.m. There are two bathrooms upstairs, one at each end of the hall, and shower schedules posted outside the doors. All the slots are likely taken for tomorrow, but you better write your name on there now so you can shower on Friday. I expect everyone to do their part in keeping the common areas clean. This means picking after yourself and putting dirty dishes in the sink—and reporting anyone who isn’t. Any questions?”
“I can show her the way to her room.” The human male is back. “Hell, I’ll even
show her the way to work tomorrow, since Nina and I are assigned to the same sector.”
Ada stares at him for a long moment. “Don’t forget to show her where the laundry is,” she says finally.
“If only I could forget, Ada. If only I could. I’m pretty sure no one else in this house even knows how to find it. Shall we, Your Highness?” The human flashes another grin at me. At this proximity, I’m able to notice his crooked front tooth.
I slide off the stool, push it in, and glance at Ada one last time. “Thank you,” I murmur softly before turning away. She says nothing.
The human pushes off the door frame and steps into the hallway. “I’m Drew,” he tells me. “Andrew Frederick Hayes. But just Drew, usually.”
He holds out his hand, and I notice a ring on his middle finger. I gently put my hand in his, and his touch is warm and solid as we shake. I study the ring as our hands move up and down. The shape of it is strange. There are no words, no symbols or designs on it. I frown for a moment before comprehending that I’m looking at a small, golden skull.
“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” Drew asks. Startled, my gaze snaps back to his.
“As if you don’t already know it,” a girl snaps as she brushes past.
“That horribly rude young woman is my sister, Nina.” Drew scowls halfheartedly. Once the girl is out of sight, he gives me a sheepish smile. “I just thought you deserved a chance to choose an identity, like the rest of us have.”
His kindness combats against the chill clinging onto me with sharp, cruel claws. “Thank you. Really.”
Together we climb the wooden flight of stairs, each step creaking, and when we reach the top I notice Nina at the other end of the hall. She stands with her back to us, writing on a plastic board mounted to the wall. The shower list, I remember Ada mentioning.
