by Kelsey Quick
She makes a sharp turn back, cutting through our entire group with rough nudges from her shoulders. I manage to jerk back in time, which gathers me a particularly venomous scowl from her. It takes everything in me to not return the gesture.
Great, another Mettingskew.
Silence lingers across Savvy and me for a few moments as we let the atmosphere soak up the tension caused by Anaya, until Katarii draws in her breath.
“...Maybe she’s upset that she has a huge stick in her butt?” Katarii blurts, and the three of us erupt into laughter. Thank goodness Anaya is so far ahead, or we would have received an even testier glare.
We continue the trek through the maze of corridors and hallways, but I’m paying attention to everything. From the gold-encased scrolls that the scribes carry along the passages to the key rings dangling on the maid carts. They might be useful later.
After the three of us fall silent, the waist of my dress is tugged, and I look back to see Emi.
“Don’t worry about Anaya,” the petite woman reassures quietly. “She’s the head of the seraglio, and also our lord’s personal favorite. So, she starts off particularly territorial when new units arrive.”
Personal favorite?
“...Oh,” I reply, kind of saddened that Nightingale politics exist here, too. “That makes sense. Thanks.”
“Of course.” She smiles warmly, quickly adding, “Lord Zein should be home any minute now. All of the servants look so antsy. It would be good if we kept up.”
She pats my arm before rushing to catch Anaya and I consider the possibility that Emi might be a nice supply unit. I wonder if she’s like Savvy? Naturally warm-hearted and compassionate.
“...Sounds like it’s Lord Zein’s stick that she has stuck up her butt, then.” Katarii’s voice interrupts my thoughts as she corrects her previous statement, and I can’t help but snort. My view of Katarii is also changing—gradually lightening the more the real her surfaces.
Savvy’s eyes widen. “I suppose being Lord Anton Zein’s favorite requires an attitude?”
“Then the three of us have a good chance.” I casually retort and it surprises me. I never usually feel comfortable enough to be myself.
It takes a while before one especially long corridor starts into a decline, growing more and more steep until it almost becomes impossible for the rest of us to stand without sliding downward. Anaya and Emi, however, are seasoned professionals. We make it to a spacious landing, much to my relief, while Anaya turns and informs us.
“Ahead are the Seraglio Chambers. As soon as you enter you will be tagged with your respective numbers and summoning devices. These are essential for you to gain entrance.” She pauses to glance over us. “Afterward we will go over the rules and expectations of each supply unit, specific to Lord Anton Zein’s preferences. So, stay close and keep to the left.”
I follow behind the others as they all descend into darkness. A steep stairwell welcomes my hesitant feet and I reach out to either side of the walls to prevent myself from falling. As the ground drops, the walls grow cooler against my fingertips. I should have suspected we would be residing below ground. How fitting. Also, how troublesome. Without immediate access to the outside world, a feat such as escaping from an underground blood harem is going to take much more than some intel and rope. Time to locate a shovel and some dynamite, I suppose.
Eventually we reach the end of the stairs, walking ahead for a period and reaching a fork in the path. Everyone follows left as told, though I find the right more compelling in this moment, and not just because I am a rebellious soul. Although it is so faint that it causes me to question my sanity, a light purple hue pulsates from the right. I stop abruptly.
“What is it?” Savvy asks, running into me.
“Do you see that?”
“Huh?” Both she and Katarii look down my line of sight curiously.
“See what?” Katarii asks.
“There. There’s a light coming from that hall,” I say, looking up at them for only a moment before turning back.
“Wavorly, are you seriously doing this? We don’t see anything.” Savvy sounds legitimately upset as I feel my way along the sandstone walls, toward the light. Lovely Savvy. Always a rule follower, like the rest of them. I could never seem to pluck her from those infallible traits that Saya guaranteed on all of their sales, the kind that sap the sheer individuality out of the human, albeit rendering them soulless blood sacs. Sometimes I wonder if I would have liked Savvy if she had been born to the world as I had, with the ability and free will to choose who she wanted to be.
But I guess there’s something innate in everyone that always surfaces at one time or another. I think hers is kindness and some sort of strong moral compass, while mine is still up in the air. I like to label myself the outcast, but I don’t think that counts. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so bitter if life simply continued on in my hometown of Avignon, like normal.
But was it even that normal?
The light pulsates brighter as I round the corridor and for a split-second, I’m afraid. What could produce this glow other than something living? A vampire awaiting me, luring me, even? One with littler self-control than the ones at Nightingale, whom were specially trained to face arduous temptations every day. I shake the thought from my head. No one here would dare touch a supply unit of Zein’s. As we were taught in Daily Lessons Among our Masters back in fourth year etiquette studies, lesser vampires who so much as touch the supply unit of their masters were subject to death penalties. All of which are gruesome, according to texts, since vampires are fairly close to immortal. So, I should be fine. I’ll be fine.
I peer around the final length of the curve, and my mouth nearly drop. I swallow down my heart and step closer. Before me is a wall that is made of a strange, violet light, as if the bright, rigidity of lightning met the ever darkening, fluidity of the ocean. It ripples, and skips over itself at times; the whole thing a fragile mess of anti-physics.
Am I dreaming?
A door makes itself known in the center of the wall, rippling with the rest of it.
The wall itself is sheer enough for me to at least see if there’s movement on the other side, but all I can make out are shapes—rectangles, more specifically—unmoving. I give it another moment or two, just in case something is waiting until the last minute to jump out and strike, before I cautiously reach my hand out toward the handle. Increasing warmth, and a strangeness that can only be described as light particles collapsing and hardening into something moveable, fill my hand. A real door handle. I push down on it and open the waving impression of an entrance. Everything on the inside solidifies into a complete change of scenery. A lit lantern bounces light off a patch-patterned marble wall, rather than sandstone. A fur rug lines the entire floor, glistening black and silver from the fluttering light. Leather chairs upholstered with brass buttons, small table rounds, and rows and rows of bookshelves fill the large space. I step inside and take extra care to close the door softly, which adds an ounce of comfort to this dangerous mission that I would most definitely get reprimanded for.
Add it to the rest of the list.
I walk across the room and look down and along the shelves filled with scroll cases and books, making sure that some creeper vampire isn’t hiding out, waiting for me to take the bait before leaping on me. The room is empty, I conclude as a script at the back of it catches my eye. Between two windows at the back, some sort of cursive scribbling is chiseled into the wall. I take one last glance around me before making my way to it. The title is legible enough for Acclevin, the official language of Cain, but the rest of the words are in a completely foreign language, most of which look like “n’s” and outdated math symbols.
The Setting Sun? I mull over the title in my head, hoping it will lend some sort of clue to the overall message. It looks like a poem by the way the sentences are structured, but it must be important if someone took the time to inscribe it on a wall.
Despite the frustration o
f having no earthly idea how to decipher it, but feeling every need to, I think of how I could maybe bribe a servant for a language dictionary or something. It takes almost too much time for me to realize that I’m practically brain-storming how to get a book while walking through a library.
Only you, Wavorly.
I start at the far-left bookcase and run my fingers over the spines, mumbling the different words for ‘dictionary’ so that I don’t accidentally skip over one. To my surprise, I find “The Setting Sun” written on the spine of one of the books. The entire thing is gold-plated, making it heavier than a brick. What’s better than a dictionary? An entire book covering a couple stanzas of poetry. I open it and the first thing that graces the pages is, “On Behalf of the Elders: Great Library of…” The next word is lost on me, so I try to sound it out. “...EE-Shah-er.”
Amidst my endeavors, a glinting object in the far corner of the room catches my attention. A glass case enclosed by gilded metal rests against the far-right wall. I close the book, hugging it to my chest—definitely because I want to and not because it is heavy—and walk over to the display.
On one end there’s a handgun with a chain attached to it, an artistic impression of a fruit tree running up and down its grip. Next to the gun is a bracelet with tri-colored beads, followed by a white and black swirl patch, and then on the far right there are two steel bracelets with fleur de lis on each end of the wrist adjustments. On the second shelf of the case are dual cuff links with “SAW” embossed on the front, and next to it: a brooch. A beautiful sapphire and gold piece, intricately fire-shaped and crafted to the finest detail. I’m suddenly reminded of the dying fire in my mother’s bright blue eyes that night. And as I recall them, the entire library, including myself, is engulfed by flames.
chapter 6
“Wake up! Wavorly, what happened?!” I can sense Savvy and Katarii, even though I can’t see them. Sound illuminates my world, but my body is frozen. The horribly dry feeling along my lips and tongue tell me that my mouth has been open for a while. My eyes and mouth are gaping, begging to be reconnected to my brain, and everything is darkness until a weight lifts itself from my chest and I fling upward, gasping.
“What the hell happened?” Katarii is still lightly shaking me. “Are you okay?”
I look around to see Savvy crying in the dim light of the hallway. Everything is black. The violet wall and door: gone.
“Did you… did you guys see the room?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“What room? Are you going crazy? This is a dead end, there’s nothing here.” Katarii gasps for breath, her sentences running together. “We came after you and found you lying on the floor. You were breathing, but barely, and your eyes were open, not blinking. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I look to Savvy who confirms everything with her concerned, doe-brown eyes. The rippling violet wall, the soft fur of the rug against my feet, the weighty casting of the golden book… all of it felt so real. Savvy nears and helps me up as I desperately try to piece together what just happened.
“How dare you?” An annoyingly loud voice echoes across the stone walls, causing the three of us to jump. Anaya is plodding down the hall, looking even more cross now than before—which is a feat. She plants herself in front of us, staring down at me from her easily six-foot height.
“You were given simple instructions to follow. Nothing too elaborate, or so I thought,” she hisses, mainly focusing on me. “Should you neglect adhering to my word in the future, you can expect a one-way ticket to the Sabbanthian fallen chambers.”
My blood lights up at her power-play. As if she has the ability to decide my fate. She’s human too. All head supply units are good for is sucking up and pouring out, and maybe leading a tour, that’s it. Before I can stop it, my ever-boiling sass presents itself.
“Get off your pedestal. No one with any real power would back your threats.”
Katarii and Savvy both clam up behind me as Anaya’s soft expression of surprise thaws to amusement.
She snickers, leaning forward to whisper in my ear. “Oh, taking that route, are we? You don’t know much about the rules of a seraglio, dear. Anything you need… new clothes, more food, maybe a pen and parchment… all of it comes through me.”
I swallow and shift my focus between her gray-blue eyes. By this point, my better judgment has successfully wrangled my loose tongue, and I remain silent even as she smiles coyly, reveling in the victory. “I hope you understand the extent of what you’ve just done. I can, and will, ruin you here.”
Her crisp and ominous words are enough to make my stomach writhe.
She puts distance between us to speak to Savvy and Katarii.
“Everyone is already in line for tagging. Move now before I increase your punishment.”
“Increase?” Katarii asks softly, almost unsure if she’s allowed to ask at all.
“Yes.” Anaya says, the curve of her mouth a fierce snake that curls into her cheek. “Thanks to your friend, you will begin your next few days scrubbing the supply latrines. Move along, or else.”
It’s hard to feel anything, anything at all, except for pure rage and confusion. What I saw behind the violet wall was real. Whether I stumbled into an alternate reality by mistake or into a vortex of witchcraft, I don’t know. But it was real. And another thing that’s real… my budding hatred for Anaya. Reluctantly, I lift my gaze to my friends.
“I’m sorry... I didn’t know that this would...” I trail off, uncertain of how to properly apologize for what could very well be sheer craziness.
“Don’t worry about it, Wave,” Savvy whispers, “It’s obvious Anaya has something against you.”
“Even I can see that,” Katarii mumbles, although clearly upset by her punishment-by-association as she now stands with her arms crossed and body turned away from me.
I’m slow to nod as my eyes linger along the black wall behind me, aching to see the violet light again. To at least prove my own sanity to myself.
God, I hope I’m not crazy.
✽✽✽
The small lobby of the Seraglio is well-lit, brighter than any other room I have ever seen while in the Stratocracy of Cain. It’s a nice change, being able to see clearly for once. Compared to the dormitories at Nightingale, the Seraglio is in better shape, even though the cracked walls and dusty remnant decor of horses and landscapes are barely comparable to the rest of the castle.
Everyone is already through the line once we get there. The counter assigned for tagging also happens to be the Seraglio’s official entrance, guarded by a single male vampire servant, who sits behind and beneath an archway that reads,
Blood Supply Seraglio
Submission. Sacrifice. Obedience.
The servant looks up at me, after having just admitted Katarii and Savvy, from behind the long counter.
“Number?” he questions me.
“Z29734.”
He rifles through his drawer of clacking metal tags before fitting the matched one to a contraption with protruding, fang-like teeth.
“Right wrist.” He outstretches a bony hand.
I obey only after I consider all other options, dreading the sheer thought of the pins skewering my arm. He moves the contraption that holds my tag between two clamps, adjusting the pins and brackets to my wrist size to render my arm immovable. The clamps release and the two pins pierce through my flesh until they are met and fastened into the brackets.
I yelp, trying to stifle my cry the best I can at the sudden flood of pain. The pins of the tag go all the way through the flesh while the brackets secure and shorten them. I look away, heat swelling in my chest at the thought of what it means. Officially branded. This permanent tag forces every vampire to recognize me as Lord Anton Zein’s property. I scowl at the thought.
Blood and raw pain pulse out of the wound, making me grit my teeth. The vampire attendant reaches for me and wraps my wrist, tag and all, with a salve-laden arument bandage. The power of
vampire-engineered salve is an amazing alleviator. Although any movement or tightening of my joints sends waves of discomfort up and down my arm, more or less it feels simply burdened, numb.
“Now that yer done whining, would you like to come in?” the scurvy, overly-hairy vampire asks, opening the passage gate directly next to him.
I cradle my throbbing arm and eye him coldly while side-stepping through the gate. On the other side, Emi stands meters away, waiting. She calls me over.
“This way, before you miss too much. Anaya is speaking,” she whisper-yells. Clutching my arm and wondering if I can even handle hearing Anaya’s voice again, I force myself into a trot.
When I reach her, she wastes no time ushering me through the doorway and closing it promptly. Anaya pauses her current topic and turns to glare at me from the makeshift stage. Her expression is that of a strangely satisfied look of disappointment.
Of course.
The new supply units in the back, as well as all of the experienced supply units at the front shift their unamused gazes toward me—and the walls instantly go up. Savvy and Katarii acknowledge me with pity from the back of the room, following up with hand signals that beckon me to sit with them. My mouth dries as I try to ignore every pair of eyes that remain locked on me. Carefully, I maneuver down the main aisle, trying to locate my care-less attitude, as well as any potential obstacle that might cause me to trip. With how things have been going for me lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if a rock popped up out of nowhere to sabotage my footing.
Step by agonizing step echoes against the walls until dead silence finally rings about the room. It’s only when I have completely sat cross-legged on the floor alongside Katarii and Savvy does Anaya continue on, redirecting everyone’s attention from me, back to her. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to see that woman catch on fire right now.
I’m distracted from my loathing by sharp throbs of pain shooting up my arm. I glance downward, moving the arument bandage slightly to run my fingers over the inscription of the tag’s face plate. My identification number, blood type, and owner are all nestled within the grains of the stainless-steel band. I force myself to pay attention to Anaya in hopes she’ll say something worthwhile for my developing plan of escape.