by Keary Taylor
Danny walks up from behind and very roughly bumps his shoulder into Lexington’s, nearly sending him to the ground. I give Danny an appreciative smile, and to my utter surprise, half a smile curls on his own lips. He enjoyed that quite a lot.
“Watch it!” Lexington protests, flinging the spilled, hot coffee from his hands.
“Oops,” Danny says in that gravelly voice of his. He stops at my side, leaning his back against the railing, resting his elbows on it and lacing his fingers over his chest. “I have to say, Alivia, I’m curious about what you were talking about, too.”
There’s something vastly dangerous about the dirty, threatening man standing beside me. Something so rough and rogue. But there’s also something about him that makes me immensely want him as a member of my House. And my friend.
“My father, Henry Conrath, and his brother Elijah, moved to Silent Bend in the late 1700s,” I begin the story. Just then, the young boy that Sebastian brought to join our house, newly resurrected and no older than thirteen, walks out the back door, a wary and unsure expression upon his face. “They each bought large parcels of land,” I continue the story. “Obviously, I live on Henry’s land. This belonged to my uncle.”
As I begin my story, more of the new House members walk to the doorway. Some come outside with the assistance of sunshades, others linger in the shadows inside.
“They established cotton plantations. At the time, Silent Bend was struggling financially. The town wasn’t making it, with limited sources for income, and from what I hear, the two brothers saved the local economy and brought in enough jobs for the town to really grow into something.”
I look around. So many of these faces are unfamiliar. I don’t even know the names of the severe man with the bleached blond hair or the beautiful curvy woman. Or the older woman who volunteered to leave the Allaways to join my House in the trade. I know nearly nothing about the dark warrior who came from Africa and prison to help us fight this war.
Here they sit, listening to me as if I am a mother, telling her children bedtime stories. Strangers, with a temporarily estranged adoptive mother.
“For years, things were good. Elijah established the House here that rightfully belonged to the Conrath blood. Henry stayed removed, but supportive. And everything grew.”
The beginnings of this story are so beautiful and hopeful.
But I know what comes next.
“But talk spreads fast in small towns. Their strange, nocturnal ways drew attention. And soon, an accident happened. A House member fathered a child. The mother hid that child, but when it died at three years old, it Resurrected.” It chills my blood just thinking about an immortal Born child. “When it awoke, it killed its mother, and the acts were witnessed.”
There’s true shock and horror in their faces. Some of them, at least. I can’t even imagine it, and I don’t know how I’ll take it if, when we finally face the Bitten army, they have children among their numbers. Because this could happen even easier with the Bitten. All it takes is draining just a little too much blood, and you have yourself a newborn Bitten.
“The town revolted. They’d had enough,” I say quietly. “They stormed both Conrath plantations. The houses were set on fire. Elijah was blamed for letting this crime happen and they killed him, and three others. And then they took them to the center of town. To the tree that sits at the end of Main Street. They strung them up, and hanged their dead bodies. On display for the entire town to see.”
The lot of them are absolutely silent as they learn the history of their new town and House. It’s grim. But I can’t imagine it is entirely unique. Keeping vampires hidden and quiet all these years can’t have been easy. It’s quite a thing Cyrus has accomplished over thousands of years.
“My father, in his grief and on such a horrifying night, did what I’m sure many of you would have done,” I continue. “There was blood shed that night. Revenge. They tried to kill him, too, but Henry escaped. And when things settled down, my father returned to his Estate, never to partake in this town’s events again. He remained removed for the rest of his life.”
I turn out to face the land around me. “But the tree they hanged my uncle from is dead. It’s cursed. The ground around it scorched. The plantation died, turning to swamp, and hundreds of jobs were lost. The town was cursed for what they did to my uncle.”
I turn to face them all as I conclude my story. I hear doors being closed out in front of the house and know the others have arrived. “And that is the legacy of this House. That is what we are recovering from.”
Suddenly, Cameron walks through the great room, breaking out onto the back deck. “Whoa,” he says, looking around at all the silent people. “Why so serious?”
This breaks laughter from more than one person, and the spell that I’ve woven is broken with the comedic relief Cameron can always be counted on to bring.
One by one, my house members file into the House and we begin walking back through the doors, into the large room. When everyone is inside, the doors are closed tightly and everyone can remove their sunshades.
I look around at our numbers. Twenty of them. That feels like far too many people for me to be technically in charge of. But far too few to fight off an entire army of Bitten with a massive grudge.
“Thank you all for coming,” I say as everyone settles into couches, chairs, or finds somewhere to stand. I go to stand before them all, my eyes flicking to Ian for a moment. He chooses to stand, his arms folded over his chest, his knees bent just slightly. His instincts are to prepare to fight. I know this can’t be easy for him. The wary expression on his face confirms it.
“I hardly even know where to begin,” I confess as I look back at everyone else. “So much has happened. So much has changed. So much is still to come.”
“Guess we can start with the fact that you survived Court,” Danny pipes up. “From what I hear, that makes you pretty damn unique.”
I nod my head. “I suppose so. It wasn’t easy. It certainly wasn’t fun. And all that fear Jasmine and those of you who were with her had before he came? You all were justified.” I kind of chuckle, because I have to relieve some of the horror I’m reliving in my brain. “I just have to say: don’t ever go and piss Cyrus off.”
A few of the House members laugh with me, but most are stony faced. They can’t even really imagine what it was like.
“Anyway, I sat as a prisoner for over a month before they even started my trial. And I found my cell neighbor was Ian while I was there.” I look over at him. He gives me a knowing smile. Those first few weeks were not pleasant ones between us. “Ian never left me, by the way. I know the King made you all lie to me about it. So…as you may have guessed, things are different now.”
“I assume this means this beautiful specimen is off the market then?” the beautiful and curvy woman asks, eying Ian up and down with a hungry and playful smile on her lips.
“Very,” I say, perhaps a little too defensively.
Everyone laughs at that and I look to see Ian giving me a very proud smile. The fire in my belly flares for a moment.
But now is not the time to pull him into a private room.
“Anyway, things were ugly. I didn’t know if I was going to make it for a while there. But in the end, there was no evidence that proved I built this army and tried to kill the King. So here we are,” I say, feeling relieved having got the first order of business out of the way.
“I know many of you came into this House because of one of the King’s infamous games. We totaled six members before he arrived, and now we sit at twenty. Some of you were forced to join a House you knew nothing about.” I look at Lexington, my eyes drifting to the others who used to be members of the House of Allaway. “Others, well, I don’t know anything about your history yet, but I know you didn’t really have much of a choice when it came to joining us.”
I place my hands behind my back, clasping my wrist. I lift my chin, looking them all over. “You have a choice now. King Cyrus i
s gone, his games are over. He has no reason to have any contact with us, and I certainly have no intention of getting in touch. So, I give you, all of you, the choice now. If you want to leave, you can. If you wish to return to where you came from, you can. I promise, I won’t hold any harsh thoughts against you. I will let you go willingly, peacefully.”
I look around, trying to read the expressions of those I do not know well. The curvy woman evaluates me, but she seems pleased by what she sees. The older woman who volunteered must have done so for a reason, because she looks content.
But, a man, small and timid in mannerisms, fidgets. He looks around at the others, as if waiting for someone else to make the first step.
“It’s okay,” I say, directing it at him. Of course, every eye jumps to him. And he looks like he wishes he could wither away and disappear under their stares. “If you don’t wish to stay, I mean it. You can go in peace.”
“It’s just…” he says, squirming under the pressure. “I had finally started this job I’d worked so hard for. And I met this woman; things were starting to go somewhere.”
A little smile works onto my lips. “Then what are you waiting for?” I trail off, asking for his name.
“Toby,” he offers timidly.
“Thank you for being with us, even for a short time, Toby,” I say, walking across the space and wrapping him in for a quick, light hug. “I wish you the best of luck.”
He backs away from me when I release him, giving me this look like he doesn’t quite believe what I’m saying. Like he expects me to take it back. But I just smile. He takes one step away, toward the door. And then another. With a lot of pairs of eyes watching him, he opens the door, waves a terrified goodbye, and slips out, sunshades in place.
“Anyone else?” I ask. I’m actually relieved someone left. Having so many numbers is kind of terrifying and overwhelming.
But no one else says a word. They all simply watch me expectantly.
Eight original members, eight new, one Ian. One here only to help us win a war.
“Thank you for your support and loyalty,” I say. “I promise to take the time to get to know each of you whom I haven’t gotten to meet. But for now, there are some things we need to discuss.”
“We will be going to war—soon,” I begin with the biggest issue. “Whoever the leader of the Bitten army is, has something personal against me. I don’t know what it is, but I’m certain they know I am back. I need you to be vigilant. Anna will organize groups to patrol town at all times, searching for signs of activity. Ian will be on the hunt.” I look at him when I say this because it’s not something we’ve yet discussed, but it’s something we need. He only nods his head in confirmation. “He’ll be searching for any problems with Bitten.
“I don’t want this to come to civil war and I have no problem with the Bitten in general, but they’ve threatened our secrets of survival here in Silent Bend, taken too many innocent lives.” My voice grows quieter for a moment, frustration and sadness sinking into me. “We have to do something about it. We are the House of the South Eastern United States. This is our job.”
Many of them nod their heads, understanding, prepared to do whatever it will take.
“Silent Bend has constantly been stuck in the middle of this battle, ever since my family moved into its borders,” I continue. “We need to do what we can to protect it—this is our home. We may never gain the trust of those we live beside, but we will do the best we can to make a peaceful existence with them. We will protect them the best we can. Because what were all of you once, before you Resurrected?”
“Human.” It’s Trinity, Cameron, and the older woman who all answer at the same time.
I nod. “That’s right. And that is my number one rule: if you cannot be satisfied with the donated blood Nial provides, if you need to feed on fresh blood, you never, ever do it within the borders of our town. And you never, ever create any Bitten.”
My eyes dart to Samuel for just a moment, the one House member who broke this rule. I punished him for it, severely, by forcing him to feed on me when I was still human, to the point he nearly killed me.
“Now, I have to say, and to some of you, I’ve already said it, I’m different,” I say and it leaves my chest in a breathy exhale. “I began losing myself. But I’m just a normal girl who was thrust into this crazy world. I didn’t have enough education. I didn’t have enough preparation. I was put on this rocket and asked to know how to fly it without anyone telling me what the control functions were.
“But I did some learning. I did some finding. And I’m not the vicious, vengeful leader I was turning into. If you disagree with the way I’m doing something, speak up. I promise I will listen now.”
I plead with them. Beg for their forgiveness. For their trust.
And those that do not know me well, they’re unsure. And that’s okay. Because I plan to prove myself to them.
“We’ll reevaluate the living arrangements over the next few days. If you feel strongly that you want to live in one House or the other, please talk with Lillian, and we will get things figured out.” It’s trivial, but important. I don’t want anyone to feel like they are a lesser citizen because they are not living at the Estate.
“And last but not least, I need each of you to come to the House and take a good long look at the painting of Henry Conrath in the library. I need you to know his face,” I say, “so that you can recognize the man should you see him. I believe my father is still alive, and I plan to find him.”
GETTING DOWN HERE IN A private way was impossible.
When the entryway to Henry’s lair is twelve feet across and drops from the floor, it’s impossible to go inside without being noticed. Thankfully, when Trinity and Samuel saw me heading down, they simply turned away and gave me my privacy.
As I got down to the floor, I hopped off, removed my key, and found a lever, which closed the door, leaving me down here alone and in private.
Now, on my own, I wander the lab.
On one shelf are three boxes of empty glass vials. One box of syringes. And on the bottom shelf are three long, black, duffle-type bags.
I have no doubt they’re body bags.
There’s a huge fridge that dominates another wall. Three doors open into it, each lined with glass windows so that you can see the contents without opening them. Labels are marked with titles such as Genesis Serum 12.4. Another reads Genesis Serum 22.8. Such a wide variety of numbers. On the next shelf down, there are more vials that read BC 1 through 5, only three vials of each. And then there’s an entire bin full of vials that read BC COMPLETE.
Containers of mixtures line the middle fridge; things I can’t even pronounce. Bottles with the names of animals written on the outside are along one shelf, the red contents make me sure that they contain blood. There’s tiger, bat, viper, and many others there.
On a bottom shelf, I find a bin that contains only three vials, ones I recognize, and I instantly know what the EW labels stand for.
Elle Ward.
They’re vampire toxins. The ones that immobilize vampires for twelve hours.
So many other things line the shelves of the refrigerators, but I turn back to the microscope set up on one table, and peer down through the eyepiece. There’s a slide already inserted, but I have no idea what I’m looking for.
Other medical and experimental equipment is set up here and there, perfectly organized and meticulously cleaned. I don’t understand what it is they do, but they look complicated and vastly important.
I do plan to bring Nial down here with me at some point, but I needed some time to check everything out for myself first. He was my father, and if there are any clues as to where he is, I want to find them first.
Perhaps it’s childish, but I need it.
I scan through every single book, checking to see if there are any unmarked spines that could perhaps be a journal or notebook. But everything is carefully labeled, all professional and with a specific topic. I pull random b
ooks from the shelf, leafing through the pages, hoping that maybe I’ll find notes in the margins, something to indicate what Henry was working on down here, but there’s nothing. Every page looks undisturbed, not even a wrinkle. But the well-worn spines tell me he at least read them all. Maybe even multiple times.
I think maybe I’ve learned something new about Henry. Everything is so perfectly organized. So meticulously clean. In it’s order and place. It’s all a little…obsessive compulsive.
“What were you doing down here, Henry?” I breathe to myself. I settle into a chair, a tall one that sits at counter height, and tuck my knees into my chest. My eyes scan everything, over and over. But I just can’t quite seem to make any sense of it.
Vampirism was born of science and curses. Cyrus, even though he did what he did thousands of years ago, was obsessed with science and immortality. He may not have had a lab, but what once might have been looked at as witchcraft back then could be explained by science today.
Henry is doing some kind of science down here. I want to know what.
There is a photograph of me that draws my attention and I cross the space to pick it up off a shelf before returning to my seat.
I find it’s not just a frame, it’s actually a photo album. It isn’t long, just a slender binding holding them together, but it houses about a dozen pictures.
My prom picture. My graduation picture. My twenty-first birthday party. Me working at my old bakery.
And one where I’m about to board a plane. The one I took from Colorado to Silent Bend, before I knew anything.
“You’re alive,” I breathe. An hour at a time, I’m slowly coming to accept the fact. No one can quite prove it one way or the other, but I just feel it in my gut. He’s alive.
Maybe that’s why my desire to get to know him was so strong. Because somehow, I just knew that I’d be getting the chance eventually.
“Why have you been hiding?” I whisper into the lab.
I stand, setting the picture frame back on the shelf, when I bump into it. And it shifts just slightly, in a way that doesn’t line up with the wall.