by K J Sutton
Footsteps thunder in my ears. Then, a second later, the doorway fills with more faces. More stares. In a single glance, I can see that all the progress I’ve made, the trust I’ve gained, is gone. Benjamin won’t meet my gaze. Garrett’s wide eyes are full of fear.
The three of us stay where we are as Ada enters last. She takes in the situation with her calm, golden gaze. I try to see it as she would—a Lavender standing there, wearing an expression that’s probably equal parts horror and hunger. Then, across the room, huddles two of her human boarders. The boy is covered in bite marks, some old, some undeniably fresh. He looks pale and worried, still reaching for the girl as though she’s about to collapse, while she wears a small, triumphant smile, partially obscured by the river of blood coming out of her nose. The floor around her is covered in dust and plaster.
I swallow again, but the lump in my throat only seems to get bigger. “Ada, this isn’t what—”
“Get out.” She speaks without hesitation, without regret. I see Penelope peeking around the tall vampire, her old eyes gleaming with the same light in Nina’s. I never stood a chance with them, did I? Their prejudice runs too deep. I would’ve been better off trying to pull an ancient tree from the ground with my bare hands than get them to accept me.
I don’t let myself look in Drew’s direction. Even if he doesn’t agree with Nina, or Ada, or Penelope, it would be wrong to make him choose. I’m just some Lavender he’s been hanging out with the past few weeks. We’ve only had one date. I know better than anyone how thick blood can be.
“I’ll be out in five minutes. I just need to pack my things,” I say, keeping my face turned toward the window. The words taste like dirt.
I feel Ada giving me a long, hard stare. “Fine. Everyone else, the show is over. If you don’t get to your sectors, you won’t get paid. If you don’t get paid, Ada kicks you out on your ass. These are the facts.”
The crowd around the doorway quickly disperses, including Drew and Nina. Neither of them looks in my direction. Ada steps out, too. She doesn’t say a word, but I can still hear a clock ticking, my time in this place counting down.
The next few minutes are a blur. Literally, since I’m crying as I gather all my new things together and shoving them into a backpack. I try not to listen to the conversations happening around me, but everyone in the boardinghouse whispers furiously about the Shakespearean play they just witnessed.
Sniffing, I pull on my coat, loop the scarf around me, and leave the tiny bedroom that had somehow started to feel like mine. As I descend the stairs, I hear Drew and Nina’s voices, drifting through the bathroom door. He’s tending to a cut on her head. Guilt fills my throat. I hurry on, ignoring the cat, who tries to follow me out the front door. I shut the door firmly in her unhappy face.
The rain has slowed by the time I’m walking down the street. A car blares by, and I can hear voices laughing and shouting through the tinted windows. I yank my hood up over my head and shoulder my backpack, trying to hide a surge of fear that goes through my entire body. Okay, where am I going? Plan. I need to make a plan. Thank the blood it’s Sunday, and I don’t have to show my face in the sewer sector.
Hotel first. Once I’m somewhere dry and safe, I’ll worry about everything else. I start walking, keeping my gaze up in hopes of spotting a vacancy sign. Every now and then, I glance down, where cracks in the pavement mock my solidarity. As I step over a puddle, I catch a glimpse of white petals—it’s a small flower—and I’m almost too late in drawing back.
It seems impossible a thing as fragile as a flower should grow through a force unrelenting as concrete. Feeling desperate and drained of my own strength, I borrow one of its petals, straightening with it tucked in my fist. I keep going, noticing how the city has begun to wake. Doors rattle as shopkeepers push them upward. Mist and steam fills the street.
When the drizzle becomes a torrent, I give in to the urge to hail a cab. As it squeals to a stop, the back tire splashes through a puddle, drenching my boots. I rush to get in.
“Where to?” the driver asks without turning. There’s a cigarette between his lips, making the words muffled. I close the door and angle my body toward him. Another car passes in a flash of bright headlights, and I see the tip of my driver’s pointed ear. Fairy.
“I’m just looking for a hotel. Is there something on the cheaper side? Near Midtown?”
The fairy is silent for a moment, the tip of his cigarette glowing orange. Then he nods. “Yeah, I think I have an idea.”
“Great. Thanks.” I settle back in the seat, feeling hollow. My eyes flick to the window and watch the city passing by. I don’t think. Don’t cry. Don’t speak. I just look out at the pretty lights. Opera music drifts from the speakers near my feet.
“You have arrived,” the tinny voice of the driver’s GPS states as the sedan rolls to a stop. I tip the driver, murmur something polite, and step out. The awning overhead protects me from the rain as I stand. The hotel is new, sleek, modern—it does not look cheap. When the cab driver pulls away, I think about holding up my middle finger.
Instead, I swallow a sigh, pull on the long handle, and step into the warmth.
I enter the enormous lobby and immediately take in the sparse, white decor. One of the walls glistens with running water, while the other is a mammoth electric fireplace. Leather chairs rest in front of it, with a small liquor cart within arm’s reach.
My wet footsteps echo as I approach the front desk, which is a long, sharp-edged slab of concrete. Light fixtures glow at frequent intervals along the front. A single human stands behind it.
“Welcome to Alexander’s,” she says with a wide, white smile. Her blond hair is tied back in a tight, professional ponytail. Her skin is so flawless that she doesn’t look real. “How may I be of service?”
I shoulder my backpack again, keeping my eyes down. Truthfully, I’m not sure whether it’s even legal for a Lavender to book a hotel suite. “I’d like a room for the night,” I mutter.
The human—a slave, I note when her sleeve rides up, exposing the dark band around her wrist—rattles off the variety of options. I hold out my ID and ask for the cheapest one. She types something on the flat keyboard in front of her. After a few minutes the human chirps, “Your cellular device can now be used to unlock the door to your suite—”
“I don’t have a phone right now.”
“Thank you for letting me know, Miss Travesty. Just a moment.” She types some more, swipes a piece of plastic over a black pad, then presents it to me across the desk. “Will that be coin or card?”
As a response, I slide over a pile of silver coins. Briskly, the desk clerk counts them, and slides a handful back. “Your suite is on the nineteenth floor and the number is on your key card. Feel free to sleep with the windows open, if you like—all of our rooms provide excellent UV protection. And of course, please don’t hesitate to stop by the Feeding Suite here on the first floor. Every human is carefully vetted to ensure your health and enjoyment. Enjoy your stay, Miss Travesty. ”
“Thanks,” I mumble, retreating from the desk. My feet feel like lead as I move toward the elevators.
I don’t remember getting on one. I don’t remember getting off it, either. The next thing I know, I’m swaying on my feet in front of a door. Blearily, I press the key card against a small screen, just over the handle. The darkness flashes green, and there’s a click. I open the door and step inside.
Automatic lights flicker on, and my gaze immediately goes to the minibar. Alexander’s now stocks AB negative! it reads on a small, plastic placard atop the small fridge. After what I did to Nina, the thought of drinking blood makes my stomach roil. I look away, thinking to explore the rest of the room, but as I set my backpack down someone knocks on the door. I turn toward it, frowning as I try to think of who would be bothering me here. A feeder, maybe? Or did someone recognize me and leak my location to the press?
Honestly, it’s a miracle they haven’t found me yet.
Trying
to move soundlessly, I put my eye in front of the peep hole. The hallway is empty, though. Annoyed and weary, I sigh and turn away. But the knocking comes again, a heavy succession of three. What the hell? Moving in a blur, I wrench the door open, ready to release my temper on the reporter who couldn’t even let me have one night of peace.
But as the door swings open, and I see who stands on the other side, my stomach drops. All the angry words fade on my tongue.
In a voice deep as oceans, the vampire says, “Hello, Charlotte.”
I’m still staring at him with disbelief. When I finally manage to speak, I sound like a child again. Like the child he once claimed to love.
“Father?”
END OF VOLUME TWO
About the Author
Jessi Elliott is a Family Law Clerk and author of both young adult and new adult romantic fiction. Her love of writing was born after many years of reading and reviewing books on her blog.
She lives in Southwestern Ontario with her adorable cat, Phoebe. Yes, named after the Friends character.
When she’s not plotting her next writing project, she likes to spend her time hanging with friends and family, getting lost in a steamy romance novel, watching Friends, and drinking coffee.
You can find Jessi at www.jessielliott.com, on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. You can join her newsletter to stay up to date on book news and upcoming releases.
About the Author
K.J. Sutton lives in a land of darkness and snow. She has received multiple awards for her work, and her most recent novel Restless Slumber was a Barnes & Noble bestseller.
When she’s writing, K.J. always has a cup of Vanilla Chai in her hand and despises wearing anything besides pajamas. She adores interacting with fellow writers and readers. Until then, she's hard at work on her next book. K.J. Sutton also writes young adult novels as Kelsey Sutton.
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