by J. A. London
“Why not?” he growls.
“Hursch isn’t encouraging anyone. That goes against his duties as the delegate. No one knows that better than Dawn. I think you should replace Hursch with someone more competent, someone who believes in what they do and understands the value of increasing the blood supply.”
“I think delegates have outlasted their usefulness,” Victor says. “I already have a plan in mind for getting more blood donations.”
Oh, no, the microchipping. During one of our shared dreams, Victor told me he was considering it. When he saw how bad things were, how little blood was being given. No, Victor, please, not here, not now.
The door flies open and in strides Roland Hursch. I’m surprised his own slime hasn’t stained his expensive gray suit or his perfectly styled hair. He spoke out publicly against me being a delegate every chance he got and now that he’s finally got the job, he’s making a complete mess of it.
“Unbelievable!” he shouts. “You should have informed me the moment Victor arrived.”
“That’s Lord Valentine,” Victor reminds him with a stern voice that would be foolish to challenge.
Hursch gives a smile and mocking bow. “Of course, Lord Valentine. Why am I the last to know about his visit? Why are there other Old Family vampires in the Agency?”
Clive rubs his eyes, maybe wishing this would all just go away.
“Roland—” Clive begins, opening his eyes.
“That’s Mr. Hursch.”
Clive sighs. “Mr. Hursch. Perhaps now isn’t the best time.”
“He’s come into our city and our agency. I demand a meeting with him right now.”
Clive holds up his hands in an attempt to calm down his belligerent delegate. “Fine. Perhaps you are right. Faith, Richard, if you will be so kind as to wait outside.”
“In the parking garage!” Hursch shouts. “Vampire ears are a little too keen.”
Faith is about to protest when Victor gives her a sharp look and confirming nod. She shoots him a glare that says, “I’ll do it, but I won’t like it.” Then she and Richard leave.
“Michael, Jeff, Ian. Could you three go speak with the head guardsman downstairs? I believe you may be able to give him advice on how to tighten the city’s security.” It’s a ridiculous task, but Clive shows his diplomacy by not simply dismissing them.
“Dawn can go as well,” Hursch says.
“She stays!” Victor and Clive declare simultaneously.
“Okay, then, Mr. Hursch,” Clive says. “You have the floor.”
“Thank you, Director,” Hursch says, turning toward Victor. “One Old Family vampire in the city I understand; exceptions must be made. But three? And you wonder why no one donates blood? You remind them, with these reckless actions, that you have no respect for our walls or the citizens they house. It’s an outrage! Why are you even here?”
“To discuss the actions I am taking in order to maintain a steady blood supply.”
“Blood supply? We discuss that at the manor each week.”
“I will be leaving for several days, Mr. Hursch, and as I find you unable to carry out my wishes, I am here now to discuss them.”
Hursch seems to consider for a moment but can’t think of the right response. Victor puts his hands behind his back and begins pacing, circling Hursch in the same way a shark might circle its prey.
“Your agency will be embedding microchips into one hundred citizens: young, healthy, and disease-free. I will provide these chips.”
“Where will you get them?” Hursch asks, trying to keep his composure but losing it every time Victor comes nearer.
“Prewar technology; I’ve had them for years, though I never imagined using them. Then again, I never imagined dealing with such an incompetent delegate.” Hursch swallows hard, perhaps expecting to be thrown against the wall for his arrogance, something I’ve seen Victor do before. “These chips will allow me to track the citizens and determine if they have given blood within the past four weeks. If they have not, I will send in my Lessers to take it through an IV.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Watch me!” Victor yells, and Hursch cringes, his eyes only opening after Victor has walked away. “After several months, we will increase the number of citizens being microchipped to five hundred, and then one thousand, with the end goal of two thousand citizens giving regularly. In this way, my Lessers are fed, the Thirst is staved off, and everyone is happy.”
He rejoins me, and even though he’s still the Victor I love, his speech reminds me harshly that we’ll never be able to see things quite the same. At the end of the day, he’s a vampire overlord in charge of feeding his vampires, and even if vampiric blood runs in my own veins, I’ve spent my whole life with humans, and to me they’ll always be people before blood sources.
I want to tell Victor that this isn’t the way to do it, but I can’t undermine his authority in front of Hursch.
“I expect to have a list of three hundred potential candidates by tomorrow,” Victor says.
“It can’t happen,” Hursch responds. “I won’t let it.”
“Mr. Hursch,” Clive says.
“You walk in here and—”
“Mr. Hursch.”
“Make demands so impossible that—”
“Mr. Hursch!” Clive shouts so loudly that even I jump. “You may write a report as to your opinion on these matters and present it to me tomorrow morning.”
“But—”
“Until then, you may leave.”
Hursch looks at all of us with unbelievable contempt before turning on his heels and storming out, making sure the door slams extra hard on the way out.
After a few moments pass and we know Hursch won’t be returning, Clive spins toward Victor. “Are you serious, Lord Valentine?”
“Very.”
Clive nods, perhaps in understanding of Victor’s position. It isn’t far from his own as director. Protect those for whom you are responsible, at all costs.
“As you can imagine, I dislike this microchipping idea,” he says. “It will spread fear and resentment. Vampires swooping in and taking blood, even if by IV, will recall memories of the war.”
Reaching out, I take Victor’s hand. He looks at me, and in his eyes, I see determination. He’s thinking of his Lessers, but we all need to think of everyone. “You promised me the world I dreamed of. This isn’t it.”
“I’m sorry, Dawn, but at this moment, I see no alternative.”
Clive clears his throat. “We have a special blood reserve,” he confesses. “No one else knows about it, not even you, Dawn. And especially not Hursch.”
I’m a little offended, but maybe it was for the best. Delegates shouldn’t know that an easy solution is right around the corner; that way they negotiate harder.
“It’s two weeks’ worth of blood,” he says. “Once it’s gone, it’s gone for good and we will be bone dry. But if I release the reserve, will you reconsider this plan of yours?”
Victor stands still, not saying a word, only thinking. After a few tense moments, he agrees. “Yes. But donations must begin again.”
“We are trying,” Clive assures him. “Believe me.”
“I do. With the blood situation temporarily under control, we can leave for New Vampiria tonight. I’m sorry it’s such short notice, but time is no longer on our side.”
“I understand. Meanwhile, we have an inner room where those of you allergic to sunlight can stay until nightfall. If you’ll gather Richard and Faith with you, I’m sure they’d appreciate it more than a parking garage.”
“I’m sure they would,” Victor says.
As much as I’d like to stay with him, I know I have a lot to do to get ready for this trip to the Vampire Council. And a guardian to persuade.
Victor touches my hand. “We’ll be outside your apartment a few minutes after dark. Be ready.”
“Is there anything special I need to pack?”
“Something conservative to wear whe
n you meet the Council members.”
“Not the corset and Victorian garb I wore for your father?” It took hours to get dressed.
He grins. “No. A dark suit should be fine.”
I’d love to give him a kiss, even just a tiny peck, but not with Clive here. I have to show him that I’m following Victor not because I love him, but because we’re doing the right thing.
“If I could speak with Dawn, alone,” Clive says.
Victor gives a short bow and leaves us.
Clive presses a button and the dark shades rise, letting in the bright sunlight. Before us spans all of Denver. I walk to the window and look out. I have a responsibility to the citizens of this city, no matter what runs through my blood.
If my father knew what he was, he put the citizens first as well.
“It was hard enough sending you to Los Angeles,” Clive says, coming to stand beside me. “I really don’t like the thought of you going to the Vampire Council.”
“It’s imperative that I go. I saw the V-Processing center and I can tell them that it’s fully operational.”
He seems to consider this answer, but it isn’t quite enough. That’s because one of the reasons I’m going is the vampire who just left the room. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
There is, and he can tell because he’s known me for a long time.
“I think your father kept secrets, too,” he says quietly.
Surprised by his words, I face him. “Why do you think that?”
“He told me that if anything happened to him, I should protect you from Valentine. But when Lord Valentine requested you serve as delegate, I put the city first.”
“You had no choice. Valentine would have made the citizens pay.”
“Probably. I trust this younger Valentine more, but not completely, because at his core he’s still a vampire. Remember that, Dawn. Vampires can’t be trusted. Anyway . . .” He sighs deeply. “I think it’s time I gave you something.”
He goes to his desk and unlocks one of the drawers. He opens it and pulls out a large cassette player. It’s nice, not something patched together by the city’s many junkers who scavenge for parts to re-create prewar devices.
“I’ve been debating for some time when to give this to you,” Clive says, approaching me with it. “You’ll want to listen to it in private. And keep it. I’ve never played it—it was always meant for your ears alone.”
He hands it to me. It’s heavy. Not just from the thick plastic and dust, but heavy with memories. I can’t really explain how I know that. “It’s from my father, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
I’m torn between the need to hear his voice again and putting off what his words might confirm. This could explain everything about my heritage. Or he could simply be singing me a lullaby. Or he’s saying goodbye.
Exhaustion settles over me.
“Try and get some sleep before tonight,” Clive says. “And know if you change your mind about going, I stand by you.”
“Thanks, Clive, but I have to do this.”
“Somehow, I knew you were going to say that.”
Chapter 6
Jeff pulls to a stop in front of our apartment building. Nothing ever looked so good to me. I wish I was going to have more than a few hours here, but I agree with Victor’s sense of urgency.
As soon as Jeff and I step into the apartment—
“Dawn!”
Tegan pops off the couch, leaps into my arms, and hugs me hard. “I was so scared that I’d never see you again.”
“That’ll never happen,” I say boldly. I don’t want her to know that I’d thought the same thing. It’s easy to be confident when all the dangers are behind you.
She pulls back, and I see that she’s aged, too. She still has her pixie features and her cropped blond hair sticks up all over the place, but she’s faced almost as many horrors as I have.
“My turn,” Rachel says. With her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and her casual clothes—jeans and T-shirt—I figure she’s not going to work today.
I give her a fierce hug.
“You could have told me what you were really up to, instead of just leaving a note,” Rachel chides.
“Clive ordered me not to say anything.”
“Since when do you obey orders?”
I smile. She’s been fairly tolerant of the issues I have with authority. “I was trying to protect you.”
“That I believe. How about some coffee?”
I glance over to see Tegan and Jeff studying me like they expect me to fall apart. “Love some. But I’m going to shower first.”
“It’ll be ready when you’re done,” Tegan says.
“Great. Thanks. I won’t be long.”
I walk into my bedroom and close the door behind me. I set the cassette player on my desk. I’m desperate to listen to it, but I want to be completely alone without the possibility of anyone disturbing me. Knowing Tegan, she’ll be in my room before I’m out of the shower.
I strip off my clothes. When they collapse to the floor, dust leaps off them, bits of Crimson Sands that have followed me into the city. Perhaps that’s a good sign, and I can carry the spirit of that place with me, too.
The shower is amazing. The water pooling at my feet is a dark brown at first as I wash all the dirt from my hair and skin, but when it runs clear, I turn the heat up and let myself absorb the warmth and the patter of drops against my skin. It’s almost like I can feel each individual droplet. How is that possible? Am I really changing? Becoming more like a vampire? I want to crawl out of my skin. I don’t feel at home in my own body anymore. It’s like I don’t know it any longer, like I don’t know me.
Tears sting my eyes. Crouching in the corner, I wrap my arms around my legs. In spite of the warmth, I shiver. I don’t want to be a vampire. I don’t want to have things in common with Sin. I don’t want to be a monster.
Shaking off the morose thoughts, I fight back the tears. I’m still Dawn Montgomery. I know who I am, even if I don’t know what I am. I’m the humans’ last hope, even if I don’t officially represent them, even if I’m no longer the delegate.
Fighting for them is in my blood, too. My parents did it. My brother did it.
With renewed resolve, I’m determined not to let Sin win, not to let him conquer me.
Standing up, I shut off the water. After I step out and dry off, I put on a pair of loose flannel pants, a tank top, and an old soft hoodie. I need the comfort right now. I walk into the bedroom.
Clothes are strewn all over my bed and Tegan is standing beside it holding up a red silk negligee.
“Jeff told us you were going to the Vampire Council. He and Rachel are arguing about it now, so I decided to help you pack. I don’t do well with yelling,” she says. “Where did you get this?”
I snatch it from her, ball it up, and shove it back into the drawer where I’d hidden it. “From Faith. She gave it to me when I was in the hospital recovering from Victor’s bite. I think as a joke. She said hospital gowns weren’t fashionable or something like that.”
“You should take it,” Tegan says. “You know. For when you and Victor are alone.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“We’re not going to be alone. Richard and Faith will be there.” I start sorting through the clothes, trying to determine what looks conservative.
“They won’t be there all the time. And not in the same room . . . or bed,” she emphasizes.
“I don’t know what the arrangements will be, but red silk is not appropriate.”
She sits on the bed. I guess now that she’s made a mess, she feels like her job is finished.
“Have you and Victor . . . done it?” she asks.
I feel the heat rushing to my face. I shake my head.
“Do you want to?”
Do I? “I think about it, but he’s a vampire. It makes a relationship hard.” Even though I may be part vampire as well, I’m not ready to admit it—not even to my best friend.
“You gave him your blood.”
“He was dying.”
“Maybe he’s dying to sleep with you.”
I wad up a T-shirt and throw it at her. Giggling, she ducks. It seems like it’s been forever since we’ve laughed.
“What about you and Michael?” I ask, turning the tables.
“What about us?” she asks, grabbing a shirt and starting to button it up, like it can’t be folded until every button is snugly in place.
“You seemed interested in him when we were in Los Angeles.”
“I’ve always thought he was hot, you know that. Even when he was your boyfriend.” She stills. “I hate what Sin did to his face.”
“He clawed his chest, too. After you guys got out of the city and Michael tried to fight him.”
“God, I can’t believe I loved that guy.” She studies me for a minute. “Is it because of what happened to me that you’re afraid to trust Victor with your heart?”
“Victor is nothing like Sin. But the world around us is so intense. I just wish we had time to do something simple like go on a picnic.”
She sits up, excited. “Maybe you’ll do something special when you’re in Vamp City. I bet they have fancy restaurants—”
“That serve blood?”
She scowls. “People live there, don’t they? Someone has to take care of stuff and provide that blood. I bet they have theaters and plays. These are the oldest of the Old Family vampires; they probably lavish themselves in extravagance. They won the war. They’re bound to have the best of everything. Museums, art, libraries. I’d love to see it.”
I can hear the deep wistfulness in her voice. I wish I could take her so she could experience all these wonderful things the Old Family has collected. Even if they are like Valentine and abhor modern technology, they’ll still have priceless heirlooms. Old Family are wealthy beyond imagining. They’ll have exquisite clothes, marvelous homes.
“I should probably pack a nice black dress,” I murmur. “And heels.”
“Definitely,” Tegan answers. “And wear your hair up. I really should go with you so I can fix it for you.”