A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon Book 1)

by Kelsey Quick

  I whip my head away. Even this vampire is toying with me.

  Laughter still present in his voice, he changes the subject. “Now, what should I call you? Numbers are far too bothersome.”

  “…Wavorly,” I reluctantly answer as I still tread carefully along the blackened halls.

  “No, no, I wasn’t asking you. It was rhetorical. Now let’s see. How about… Moron, or Cretin. Or, oh, I know! Dimwit. That’s a good one. How about I call you Dimwit from now on?” He jabs at me. And while I am surprised by his humor, I’m less than amused.

  “As you may have heard back there, my name is Gemini, though it is mandatory that you address me by ‘master’ from here on out.”

  “Please,” I snort. His company is proving to be a bit more bearable than other vampires that I’ve encountered. “If anything, it will be ‘Master Bloodsucking-Scumbag.’“

  He chuckles. “Dimwit’s got jokes.” And after a moment he says, “Well, Wavorly, I wish you and your little friends luck. You will need it.”

  He stops and opens a door to reveal a bright, full-moon lit night. Beneath the cascade of stars and milky atmosphere lies a gleaming metal ramp leading up to a huge, prestigious-looking chariot.

  “Depending on how all that turns out for you, we may or may not meet again.” He leaves me with these parting words.

  My eyes remain fixed on him as he motions me up the creaking slope. Then he turns to do the same for both Savvy and Katarii.

  Once the three of us are inside the chariot, everything goes dark as the doors are closed and locked. There are two resounding taps on the outside of the convoy. All three of us nearly fall over from the initial force of the chariot’s take-off, although we somehow manage to remain upright by shamelessly clinging to one another like lifelines.

  The chariot space is narrow, but obnoxiously long. Red-dyed velvet walls reflect golden yellow about every twelve feet by the flower-burning lanterns. Other supply units—very few altogether, and all wearing ruby red—sit on black-cushioned benches along the walls, telling me that we are on our way to Zein’s castle. They stare at us with scrutinizing eyes, but I can’t blame them. I’m pretty sure the other girls placed bets that I would end up a rejected supply unit even before my final escape attempt, so for me to be here despite my history must be quite a shock. On top of that, Savvy’s and Katarii’s amethyst dresses are like a beacon in the dead of night.

  Katarii is the first to walk toward three consecutive empty spots on a bench while Savvy and I reluctantly follow. I sit for a moment, looking at nothing else but my dry hands. I analyze every crease and joint consciously, as if they are the most enthralling distractions from the molestation of gazes. My eyes lift to meet Glera’s in particular, and as I do, she quickly looks away… although the questioning tension lingers.

  Glera is an exceptionally beautiful supply unit—glossy dark skin, almond eyes, and a head full of winding curls. She has always intrigued me. Unlike the other supply girls, she mainly kept to herself at Nightingale. I always assumed she had friends, but it seemed more often than not she would be at an empty table studying or staring outside of a nearby window, too busy thinking her own thoughts to care about the opinions of others. I often would wonder if she, too, saw past our cage into the open world since she didn’t originate from Saya. I’ve thought about approaching her a couple of times, but ultimately decided against it. What if she would have happily slapped me on that day, too?

  I frown into my hands. I can’t help it, every time I meet a new supply unit, I ask myself the same question.

  Savvy leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder and pulling me from my thoughts. She has a way of doing that at the right times. I tilt my head to rest on hers.

  “I don’t know where I would be without you,” she admits.

  “In that pit back there,” I say, and she giggles half-heartedly.

  “What do you think will happen once we get to his castle? “They have let Katarii and I come along for now, but what do you think Lord Zein will do with us? We don’t even belong to him.”

  “I won’t let him kill us,” I reply, unsure of how I could fulfill that promise if Zein set his mind to it. “You, especially. Of all people, you don’t deserve it. Me, however—.”

  “Stop. You can’t talk about yourself like that after what you just did for me and Katarii. I don’t know if I could have done that so easily.”

  “It wasn’t easy. And your opinion is biased,” I say, flicking my thumbs over one another. Under my breath, I concede, “I may have told all those vampires to go screw themselves during my judgment.”

  Savvy snaps her head up and scalds me with her reprimanding stare. She would be a good mother, if she weren’t trapped in Cain.

  She squeals between gritted teeth. “Wavorly, what?”

  I laugh, which causes her to laugh. And even Katarii, who has been obviously eavesdropping solemnly until now, chuckles. She finally speaks.

  “Well... I’d like to hear about it, if you want to share?”

  If she’s willing to wave her white flag, I guess there’s no reason to hold onto the broken eggshells of the past. I give her a slight smile and begin to explain—with fervor—how I made a complete and total fool of Zein in front of the entire panel of aristocratic vampires.

  ✽✽✽

  Hours pass before any hints of an impending arrival. We started the journey on a bumpy, gravel road, but then we lifted off the ground and all around us were howling winds and stomach-churning turbulence. As we began flying, I grew more sick by the minute. To keep my stomach from unleashing itself on all the unsuspecting supply units, I decided to disengage from my two friends—I guess I can venture to call Katarii a friend, I don’t know. She seems easy enough to get along with now that she owes me her life.

  We take a sharp downturn and my stomach lurches. I guess one upside to feeling sick is that I no longer feel the severe waves of hunger that have been developing over the past couple of days. I really could go for that bread and water in my rucksack that’s probably somewhere on the other side of Nightingale’s walls.

  The meeting between immovable ground and the tough, creaky wood of the chariot has us all losing our seats, and within seconds the chariot comes to a dramatic halt.

  A long and deafening quiet befalls the cabin until a couple of female voices come into earshot from the outside. I watch as the mechanic locks on the door next to me jerk back and forth until they are successfully wriggled out of place. The door-ramp falls outward, revealing the dark, violet shadows of night.

  Glera looks from me to the others before standing, which encourages the other girls to do so in succession until I’m the last one seated. Cool, spring air swirls about the interior, sending heavy goose bumps up my arms and face, and dispelling my bout of motion sickness. A head of raven black hair curves around the opening of the door. It’s a woman, maybe only a few years older than myself, and given her rounded set of ears, most definitely human. She steps inside, and blinks repeatedly to adjust her eyes to the inky, moonless dark of the cabin. The first thing that catches my eye is her dress-like, near sleeveless robe. An open-necked ruby piece, displaying golden embroidered emblems of Cain—the upside-down triangle topped with a diamond—up and down its hems, and skirting the ground beyond her white-socked toes. Beneath the heavy material is an ivory dress, only noticeable where the neck of the robe opens near her chest. A bright maroon sash, wrapped two or three times around the conjunction above her ribcage, gives off a satiny sheen as its two swaying tails fall harmoniously to the ground. The style is strange, but the strangest accent by far is the burgundy ribbon that is tied loosely around the breadth of her neck. It’s essentially a token—indicating that this woman is undoubtedly one of Zein’s established supply units.

  After her eyes adjust to the darkness, she calls out to us.

  “Hello, girls. I’m number Z43329, Emi for ease. Welcome to the Sabbanthian province, our most honorable Lord Zein’s territory.” Her narrow eyes fal
l on me and she offers a slight smile. “Why are all of you still in there? Come on out, don’t be shy.”

  As she turns to leave, the tension along my spine releases. Meeting female supply units always puts me on the sharpest of edge. Although this one seems kind enough, I don’t trust the feeling. Memories of those horrible times at Nightingale flood back, cutting off my curiosity and erecting walls.

  The physical punishment dealt to me by my class is a pretty terrible instance, but it was far from the only one. From making me the butt of their jokes, to cutting off my hair while I slept; from burning holes in my clothes to pushing me down stairwells, I’d decided that all human girls are vicious, especially when influenced by vampires. And until Savvy took a chance at her own isolation to be my friend, I had no reason to believe otherwise. Even in Avignon I was never permitted to be around anyone my age—perhaps for good reason. Either way, growing up in a small world of humans where beauty and subservience is everything, it’s tough to be the one with an axe to grind and uncultivated genetics.

  I stand and meet my fate head on. I breathe away the last of the nausea and file in line to exit, mentally preparing myself to pay attention to everything that I see, hear, or feel from here on out. Every crack, cranny, or flaw in security at Zein’s castle, I need to find. Knowledge is key if I’m to escape—assuming Zein doesn’t chop off my head first. My eyes glaze over, and I shudder at the thought.

  Glera is the first to exit the chariot, followed by the rest of the girls. Then it’s left to Katarii and Savvy staring at me expectantly, urging me to go first, their eyes filled with crippling uncertainty. I get it. Neither of them would be here without me, so it’s only natural.

  Once outside, the three of us line up behind the other girls. We are in the middle of an open field, surrounded by forests, and nuzzled by shriveling grasses that are still damp from a recent rain. I exhale sharply from the brunt of the cool air. Everyone looks around, and all seem disappointed that the scenery hasn’t changed much from Nightingale to the Sabbanth Province. None of them would know, because none of them care about obtaining knowledge that’s off-limits, but the Southern and Western areas of Cain are forestry. They’d have to go East or North for a real scene change.

  Ahead, a different, more regal-looking supply unit forces herself into the center of our attention. Although she wears the same intricate clothing as the one before, this woman has a gleam of royalty. Her bright, brownish-blond hair is more elaborate—pinned with jewels in an artistic fashion—and funnels into a taut widow’s peak. Her face is laden with copious amounts of makeup, while her body language renders her near-unapproachable. Pair all that with the bitter expression and raised nose, and it tells me everything. This human woman is the head of Zein’s supply units.

  With disgust stamped across her face, she clings to a note of parchment, peering at each of us and scribbling upon it while silently mumbling to herself. It is during this time that Emi sneaks over to Savvy, pushing a ruby robe into hers and Katarii’s hands.

  “To prevent others from asking questions,” she whispers, catching the three of us off-guard. She must already know of their situation. If so... then mine as well.

  While throwing on her robe, Katarii nudges both me and Savvy, pointing toward the front of the chariot. Four massive, horse-like beasts stand in two rows of two, whinnying impatiently. It’s their added features that make them “horse-like.” Their snouts are scrunched up like a pig’s, but off-brown and slightly more wrinkled and unattractive. Their ears are long and wide, yet shriveled thin, and hairless enough to see contrasting, stringy veins throughout. Moonlight rays glimmer upon the beasts’ onyx eyes and rove over velvety broad shoulders and hunched backs. A pair of rumpled leathery wings that stretch farther than the length of the creature itself, jointed and webbed, sit above the ribcage of each—looking like those of a cave bat. Unlike any creature I have ever seen before.

  Vampire soldiers, or servants I suppose, emerge from the surrounding woods and approach the horse-beasts with leather straps, untying them, readying them for the end of the night. The resonating voice of the head supply unit reclaims my attention.

  “New supply units to Lord Anton Zein, please allow me to welcome you, wholeheartedly. My name is Anaya, number Z16948,” she states, straightening her back and firming her features. “First, we will enter our lord’s noble home and then we will direct you along the most common route for supply units, prior to his return. We wouldn’t want to inconvenience him with our undesired presence, nor would we want you to get lost, so stay close and pay attention.”

  Anaya turns on her heel and walks toward the forest as the front-line of supply units follow. The hills ahead show no sign of a castle, nor anything but endless tree lines for that matter, which can only mean an exhaustive walk. My stomach gnaws at me desperately and fatigue hits me like a wave. I choke it all down and continue forward.

  About a kilometer into the trek, more strangely dressed vampire guards come into view. They are stationed radially in front of a large field, seemingly guarding nothing. Anaya, meters ahead, lifts her wrist. The sleeve of her robe falls away, revealing a thin cylindrical gold plate that looks to be painfully connected to her skin. I wince at the sight, remembering that the rest of us will be tagged as well. Her specific tag must act as some sort of signal, for the guard closest to her then raises his spear and makes a strange motion.

  After a few moments of silence, the endless forest ripples over itself like linens in the wind before dissolving into light blue hues—revealing a colossal stone-walled acropolis. My jaw drops on its own accord. Undoubtedly, the rows of trees that filled my sight moments ago were some sort of an illusion to what really occupied the space. Zein’s castle. I grimace at the thought of him, though I marvel at the majesty before me. It is still such a foreign concept that devilish vampires have this level of beauty mastered.

  “Isn’t it something?” Savvy marvels alongside the rest of the units. I don’t respond, but I do agree.

  As we trudge past the outer wall, I unwillingly think of Zein—his decision to spare me from the fallen—and my heart aches deeply. Not in anger this time, but in sadness. A long time ago I promised I would never allow myself to be appreciative of anything Zein did for me, because all of it was ultimately for himself; for the vampires and their bloodthirsty race. I shake my head vigorously.

  I think about the anklet dangling near my heel, and my resolve is instantly repaired—my anger refueled. He is a slave owner. He took me for his own gain. There is no other explanation. My eyes well and memories threaten to flood the gates.

  To rid my mind of it, I listen in on Savvy and Katarii’s conversation, which is currently revolving around the architecture of the castle. I need to be present. I can’t ask questions, or else I will fall apart.

  When we reach the courtyards, the stone path gives way to water gardens filled with greenery. Blue, purple, and red blossoms of every kind are scattered about, and all are enveloped in shadow and early fireflies. As we draw nearer, long, tinted windows that are nestled along the castle’s perimeter wall come into view. They reflect the moon and stars brilliantly, almost purposefully. I take note, as the doors open from some unknown force, that those windows must contain the castle’s gatekeepers. Information that might be necessary for later.

  Once inside, the elegance stuns me. Elaborate oil portraits of war and brutality—embellished by thickly carved frames—hang along the vast, inner sandstone walls. Bronze sculptures of soldiers boasting the valor of battle, and kilned pieces of beautiful women fill every empty corner or open space in the enormous and tapestry-adorned foyer. The first sculpture that greets us in the lobby is of the great general, himself, Zein. The bronze molding stands tall and proud, post-battle. One of its hands crosses over its body in some sort of salute, while the other holds a decapitated enemy—another vampire—by the hair. My stomach turns at the grotesque sight, reminding me of that vampire that Zein killed ten years ago. The one who nearly killed me. Thi
s is the type of person I’ll be serving, though it shouldn’t come as a surprise. It’s no secret that Zein is ruthless on the warfront, but with each passing painting of bloody battlefields, the rumors solidify, distorting my mental picture of him into something far more frightening.

  We continue on toward the heart of the castle. Anaya takes us down a tall hallway lit dimly by golden-waxed candles. The grace of such light is so intermittent, however, that the halls might as well be pitch black. A few corridors under our belts, and we emerge to a grandeur ballroom. The beautiful space, with seemingly no end to its height, is illuminated by the moon—soft, second-hand rays trickling in from tall paneled windows along the far wall. Many vampires, servants I gather, hurry about looking rather flushed, and spare only a moment to stare at us before resuming their affairs. In the center of the grand hall are two spiral staircases, each intertwining around one another, and reaching about five flights into the ceiling.

  “This is the most direct route for us to take to Lord Anton Zein’s chambers.” Emi pipes up with a smile. “This route was designed for the supply units specifically so that our lord wouldn’t have to wait too long for his meals.”

  Nothing can hide the disgust from my face, and Savvy notices.

  “Heaven forbid he waits two whole seconds.” She nudges me, letting the words fall off her tongue uneasily. I laugh out loud by accident, relishing the rare moment of spunk from Sav.

  Anaya’s eyes dart sideways to catch mine and I straighten. Her glare lasts long enough to warrant perturbed glances by the other supply units, forcing me look down at my feet. She resumes the tour, stating, “Normally we would take you up the staircases, but given that our noble lord is most likely entering the castle as we speak, we will head toward the seraglio. These twin-cases will be your most important destination, so forgetting their location, regardless of how often you are summoned, is inexcusable. If nothing else sinks in, at least remember this path.”