The Legend of Juliet: Part One (A Vampire Dystopia) (Finding Freedom Novellas)

by Lanc, Alexandra

  Sibold’s hazel eyes reflected in mine as his gaze held me for a span of time, hypnotizing me before my sense abruptly kicked in, and I hastily jumped up, his arms slipping from around my waist. I knelt before him, holding out my wrist as I bowed my head, remembering my place.

  I was a slave, a human, and he was my Master. I couldn’t afford to entertain the ideas that he was speaking of, because then...well, I would no longer be human; I would become a vampire – not in body, but in rank, placing myself at the same level as the rulers of the world, and then I would be destroyed for it.

  I knew that Sibold was only trying to help, knew that he cared about me, as so many Masters failed to, but I couldn’t forget the danger lurking around the corner, the danger that he had already warned me of.

  He couldn’t protect me from everything – and I wasn’t strong enough to protect myself.

  “P-Please, Master,” my tone was shaky when I spoke, and when I looked up, daring, Sibold appeared to have turned to stone, his frame ridged once again. “It is my duty to offer you my blood, so...won’t you take it?” my arm wobbled a bit as I tried to remain steady, tried to be a good slave, tried not to think.

  I disliked it that the vampires had to drink blood from humans — it was like stealing, and last I knew that was bad, even to the vampires, who, when it came to their kind, were full of respect — but I understood they needed blood to live, and I never minded when Sibold did it, because whatever he asked I would do it, no matter what the cost, no matter what it was.

  I would do anything for him.

  I heard Sibold sigh as I tilted my head back, gaining full sight of his face, before a small chuckle left his lips, and he reached out to take my arm in his hand, his touch warm, his lips pressing a kiss to my battered wrist, causing a hazy, floating feeling to spread through me before his sharp fangs grazed my skin.

  The world took a tumble as Sibold’s fangs bit through the bruised, scarred skin on my wrist, and suddenly bright red flowers appeared before my eyes, and I was abruptly carried away into darkness.

  “It’s time to go now...

  ...Are you ready?”

  I was six years old when I met Sibold – when my old life ended, and my new life officially begun.

  It was dark and stormy that night, the date in the tenth month of the year, which I had been told was once called ‘October’, previous to the vampire’s reign; now, its name was ‘Oritime’, which meant ‘moon month’ in the vampires’ language. I had been sitting inside Miss Mercy’s Bright along with my parents, nestled by the warm, crackling fire, lingering on the floor atop a carpeted rug. Something small and cold had been seen through the window, whipping across the sky outside, something that Miss Mercy had said was called “snow”, something that I had hardly been able to take my eyes from. All was quiet and peaceful when suddenly we had heard it—

  A knock had sounded from the front door, harsh and insistent.

  My parents had immediately stiffened as Miss Mercy started towards the oaken door, giving them both a harsh glance, silently telling them to stay back and to stay quiet, to not interfere with her business; they were friends, but she was a vampire above everything else. My parents had quickly stood from their seats and grabbed either one of my arms in order to usher me into a back room, to hide me from prying eyes, but we had never succeeded in vanishing.

  The front door had opened of its own accord before we had taken ten steps, and a tall, grim man had stepped into the Bright, pushing Miss Mercy aside as he had shrugged off the cold along with his long, brown coat; the vampires, known for being extremely old-fashioned and straight-laced, had adopted what I’d learned was termed a “caste system”, where each had their own place in society, some above others, the caretakers of the humans – of the Bright, Care, and Beginning houses – considered the lowest of the low, respected by humans, but hardly at all by their own kind.

  My parents and I had been caught the moment the grim vampire had stepped into Miss Mercy’s Bright, his dark eyes roaming, taking in the atmosphere. We hadn’t been able to hide in time.

  The vampire had seen me, and a slithering smile had stretched across his pale, somewhat sunken face, afterwards revealing his sharp, feral fangs.

  “Ah, Mercy. I came to see if you had any newborns to look at, as I am in need, so that I could place a claim to one, but it seems that you have something much more promising on your hands,” I had stiffened as the vampire stepped towards me, his stride long and languid, making my parents shake in fear, their hands still gripping at my arms. “Mind if I take a look?” he hadn’t waited for Miss Mercy’s reply; he’d closed the small distance between us, his black eyes appraising as he’d reached out, his bony fingers greedy.

  My first impression of the man had been this: he looked like a dragon. He was tall and slender – disgustingly so – and his face was blotchy, scaly, chaffing a bit, as if he had been caught in the direct sun; the sun burned vampires’ skin just as it did humans, but there was no sun to be seen nowadays – not any longer, not since the war that had brought the vampires to power; the sky was continuously grey, cloudy. His eyes had appeared dark, and had looked mildly like a lizard’s, and he’d had hardly any hair poking out from under his top hat, what little bit there was fraying at the ends, wispy and greying. His back had hunched in a crooked way as he’d bent down to look at me, and I had imagined that he was trying to hide his webbed wings.

  Even vampires could appear old.

  “Well, little girl, what is your name?” the vampire’s breath had made me recoil as I’d glared up at him, a lot braver as a young girl than I was as a woman – outwardly, anyway; I liked to think that I was still brave, though I wasn’t quite sure if it were true or not. He’d laughed before replying to his own question, refusing me room to speak. “Of course—you don’t have one. That is due to the fact that you haven’t been Chosen yet, now have you, little one?”

  I had almost expected my parents to speak up then, to ward off the creepy man who was looking at me as if I were a piece of meat, but they hadn’t, and part of me had resented them for it. It wouldn’t be until later that I would learn they couldn’t have warded him off if they had wanted to, because he was a vampire, a Master, and they were only human – Miss Mercy had taken care to shield me from the reality of the vampire world while I was at the Bright; I had known little of how the world operated then, much less than I would have had I been sent to the Care in preparation for my slaved existence.

  Miss Mercy had spoken when my parents could not. In fact, she had pushed me aside, and had then stepped in front of the dragon-man, shielding me from his blackened eyes, his foul breath, and his ill intent.

  “Mr. Cornelius, I don’t know what you think you are doing, but you can’t just walk in, and expect to take the child,” her voice had been somewhat high-pitched when she’d spoken, but I had known that she was serious from the way that she had stood, tall and straight.

  Miss Mercy had always been serious when it concerned me; she’d loved me as if I were her own child.

  But the dragon-man hadn’t known – or cared – that she was serious. He had laughed at her, sweeping her away again with one arm, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me forward, as if he owned me. “I can’t? Tell me, who is the Lord over this town? I am,” he had cackled as Miss Mercy had stepped back, shaking her head, bowing it, submitting to someone of higher rank, and my parents had all but shrunk into nothingness, scurrying into the shadows, out of the dragon-man’s sight. “It is because of me that you are all here, and because of me that this child will be Chosen—will have a future,” he had looked down at me as he’d said the word ‘future’, and in those black, appraising eyes of his, I had seen what kind of future it was that I would have, and it hadn’t been a pretty one; pain and sorrow waited in the house of that man.

  So, not knowing any better, and not caring anything for his authority, I had immediately fought back.

  I had kicked at his leg, putting as much force into the blow
as I could manage. “Lemme go!” I had shouted as I’d scrambled away, hissing at the dragon-man as if I were a vampire, too. “I’m not going with you!”

  I had hid behind the settee as the dragon-man rubbed at his now sore leg, though it couldn’t have hurt that much (especially since he was a vampire, and they healed quickly, overly so if they were a Pureblood). His black eyes had burned holes through me from where he had stood, over by the fire. My parents had gasped at my behavior as Miss Mercy had stared at me, her mouth open slightly, most likely trying to figure out how to fix the situation that I had placed myself in – how to make it so that I wouldn’t be killed.

  I should have died then, committing the highest act of treason against the Masters of the world – striking back, rebelling, revolting against the vampire’s will.

  I should have died.

  And I probably would have, if one thing hadn’t happened to change everything in my life—

  The front door had swung open of its own accord for the second time that night, just as the dragon-man had been about to pounce on me and no doubt choke me to death while everyone watched, unable to interfere. Time had appeared to pause as a figure stepped into the space, covered in the little white specks that were named “snow”, their hazel eyes landing on me immediately, as if they had known that I was there – that I was the one who they had been searching for, that I was the one who they had been sent to save; it had been as if an invisible chain linked us from the very beginning.

  Sibold had arrived, and though I hadn’t known it at the time, he had come to save me.

  Chapter Three

  Sibold was a wonderful Master. He was probably the most wonderful Master in the entire world, from what I had seen and heard. Even though we both knew we weren’t equals, he always tried to give me the best of everything, and that included an education; formally, he could write this education off on the notion that he didn’t wish to have a terribly simpleminded slave, and the other vampires would nod their heads in agreement (they had little say because of their social status, and for once, Master Delouge didn’t care), but he had made it clear to me time and time again that his real reason was for my benefit.

  My eyes widened as I blinked at the new book in my hands, heavy with a dusty, hard cover, much unlike the books I was normally given, which were often bound with leather instead of the thick, paper-like substance that bound this one.

  “Interesting, Juliet?” Sibold’s hazel eyes never left my face as he tried to ascertain what I thought of my new book, what might have been running through my mind; he was always trying to figure out what exactly it was that I was feeling, and I appreciated, loved that about him. “I assumed it would be good for you to read something different than your normal curriculum.”

  I was so confused with the reality of the book in my hands, so enthralled by its cover, with the new book’s title, that I couldn’t find it in myself to answer him. It was called “The Civil War”, and it seemed strange to me that Sibold would give me a book about war, since slaves were forbidden to speak of war…if they even were allowed to know what it was, as tales of war may lead to thoughts, and thoughts may lead to an uprising, though they were more fearful of our destruction in that regard than theirs; the vampires were proud, but even they couldn’t erase the fact that they needed us, since we were their only source of food – they had to admit it openly, though they never failed to scowl, hissing at the truth.

  I had been learning about the world from books since Sibold had taught me to read, tutoring me patiently a few months after I had arrived at the Manor, when I had finally begun to trust him; in fact, looking back I had a feeling that those reading sessions had led to me trusting him much more than anything else had, showing that he truly cared about me, slave or not. Most human slaves never learned the art of reading, their Masters finding it to be ‘unimportant’, too closely related to thinking, since knowledge would come with reading, and ideas would spawn from that, but Sibold...like I said, he was different. As a vampire, a Master, someone who could have anything he wished at his fingertips in mere moments, he loved to read, and soaked up words whenever he had the chance, often carrying a book around with him to read in between performing his duties, so it was only natural that I should be allowed to do the same, human or not, for the sake of him being saved annoyance; sometimes, he asked that I read to him when he was lethargic, or simply didn’t want to do it himself – I liked to think that he enjoyed the sound of my voice, even if it was wrong of me.

  “T-This is an a-ancient book,” my voice was quiet, wavering a bit, when I finally managed to speak, still staring at the book’s cover, my eyes tracing the lines of the letters; Sibold had taught me both the vampire’s alphabet, letters comprised of rustic, bold runes, and English, which he said had once, before the vampires had come to power, been a centric language to the humans. “It’s...a rectangle.”

  Sibold laughed softly at my reaction, as I gingerly opened the book’s cover, many times worn, the letters beginning to fade. “Yes, it certainly is,” there was a hint of humor in his voice, reflecting his chuckle, which caused me to look up, though I stopped my gaze from traveling before I could see his face – not because I would get in trouble, as we were alone, but because of his vicinity; he was close. “It was printed previous to the Vampoli leil Liaste, one of the few copies left to us.”

  I nodded, recalling the history that I had learned years ago now, the story playing out in my mind.

  The Vampoli leil Liaste – “Dawn of the Vampires” – was the time in history when the vampires had come to power after their long, seemingly eternal (proverbial) slumber. It had started simply, with a few vampires taking office or rule throughout the world, but then it had grown, festering into something monstrous. The vampires who were in charge had informed the humans that they only wanted peace—wanted to work together to create a new society, where they would hopefully be able to end their curse, free themselves from their need of blood through the scientific methods the humans had possessed, but—

  I clutched the book a little tighter in my hands as I frowned, remembering the truth, what Sibold had told me, letting me read from a history book that had been written specifically for Vampoli estinee, or vampire children, never intended for the humans.

  During the vampire’s plea for peace, the humans had realized the truth: that the vampires were slowly dying hiding in the shadows; the vampires had congregated in secret, and had decided to do something to change their fate, to cling to their lives – they had begun building a secret army behind the humans’ backs, amassing a military, the revered Heads (one of which had been, and still was, Sibold’s father, Master Delouge) gathering forces and preparing to strike while their elected vampires spread the word of peace to the humans, some of which believed it, and some of which didn’t; the ones who didn’t never gained enough followers to build an arsenal against what they believed would transpire, the vampires’ world domination power-play. The age of the humans had already begun to end by the time the truth had been discovered, and there had been no turning back from that point on; the humans had lost their Earth, their homes, and their lives, and with it their freedom, and their right to decide – their very humanity.

  “Will you not read, Juliet?” I nearly jumped when I heard Sibold’s voice, traveling to me from only inches away, shocked out of my earlier thoughts as I gasped and stumbled back; in my thinking I had become lost, and he had leaned down until we were at eye level, a sly smile playing across his lips, faint, as he’d watched my vacant expression with amusement.

  I had to stop thinking, I told myself, chiding as I gathered my wits about me. Sibold’s closeness never failed to unsettle me...though, not in a particularly bad way.

  I nodded as I snuck what I thought was a glance at him, making him grin slightly, his hazel eyes narrowing a bit as he chuckled lowly. I turned and settled into my chair, flipping a few pages into the book as I prepared to read, loving the way that the letters curved; most books now were
written in the vampires’ language, so it was a special treat for me to be able to read one that was written in English – the slaves and vampires still spoke in English, though the vampires’ used their native tongue too when talking to one another about something important, something they didn’t want their slaves to hear...though most of the time they hardly cared.

  As I stared down at the book now lying in front of me on the polished, wooden table that I often studied at, I marveled. It was a strange book, an old book, one I had never seen before, one that most likely was often only viewed by vampires like Sibold – vampires related to a Head, Purebloods. But despite the book’s oldness, the thing that intrigued me most was the shape, because the books we had now—which were mostly history books about our vampire rulers, or books of science, literature, and a thing called science-fiction, catered to our Masters—were made of half-circles, opening into full circles, the edge of the pages rounded.

  But this book...it was something entirely different. It was a rectangle, and the pages were also rectangles, and when you opened it up, it almost made a square.

  The book had come from the Eridium Liaste, the world before the vampires’ rule—