A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon Book 1)

by Kelsey Quick

  After a brief pause for a self-contained monologue of internal conflict, I reluctantly respond, “Yes... master.”

  He chuckles at my octaves of disgust while my mind wanders.

  “If you don’t mind me asking… why does Lord Zein tolerate Narref serving him if their relationship isn’t that great?”

  He hesitates a moment, seeming to wonder if he should answer. “Well, you would think our lord has a choice in the matter, but—

  Suddenly, Gemini pushes down on my head with his hand.

  “Bow,” he commands.

  The urgency in his voice leaves me with no questions, only compliance. Between bouncing red strands of hair, I make out guards lining the hallway, bent slightly in their own bows. A tall, intimidating figure strides down the center of the passage. His chains, armor, and weaponry rattle with each determined step, while many other steps scurry in follow.

  It’s most definitely Zein. And some of his personal attendants?

  I catch Gemini out of the corner of my eye as he gives a quick bow.

  “My Lord, Zein. Good afternoon!”

  The rattling metal echoes to a halt before us, and my heartbeat quickens.

  “Gemini,” Zein greets in a deep and melodic tone. “Escorting, are we?”

  “Yes, my lord,” he replies. “Taking our little troublemaker here back to the seraglio. I am unaware if Narref has relayed the information yet, but she’s doing well. In good condition!”

  A strange, long pause is left in the conversation, but I lose interest as my weighted eyelids become too much of a distraction. Blackness surrounds the edges of my vision as the pull of gravity grows stronger, pulling me to the floor.

  An obstruction curls beneath my torso, preventing me from completing the faceplant. I look up to find that it’s Zein’s arm that holds me in suspension. His expression is menacing; his eyes lock mine, teetering precariously between annoyance and... concern? Mine, however, can’t be anything less than that of a fawn caught in the jowls of a wolf. Although it is dim in the hall, I am able to see Zein’s face clearer than ever before. He would be horridly, strikingly handsome if he weren’t the literal bane of my existence.

  I furrow my eyebrows and push away, standing upright once more. The fragility of said fawn giving way to a tigress as I remember everything from last night. The pulsing pain in my neck. His manipulation and his cruelty. Now I picture him more like a weasel rather than a wolf. His eyes linger over mine for some time before they pull away to Gemini. The intimidation that has been pooling in them multiplies.

  “Good condition, hm?”

  “Well… erm, or so I thought.” Gemini tilts his head, eyeing me like a house of cards that might fold in on itself at any given moment. The vampire attendants in the background also don’t look too pleased.

  “Keep your eyes on her. Let me know if she causes any issues. And don’t let her fall next time.”

  “Forgive me, my lord. Th-the missions to the borderlands are today. Hopefully all is well despite the reports?” Gemini changes the subject expertly.

  “Abethos will never be free of our scrutiny. Despite international calm, their state has grown more… restless lately,” Zein responds after a moment, taking documents from a nearby scribe. “I am not too optimistic about it.”

  My interest hinges on ‘Abethos’—the neighboring, vampire state closest to Zein’s region of Cain. Most of the books I read about it were obviously written by Cainites, basically calling them hypocritical pacifists for their easy outlooks on blood consumption. The tensions are apparently high between the two states.

  “Well, safe travels, my lord. I will hope for the best,” Gemini says as he nudges me expectantly. I tighten my already balled fists.

  “Th-thank you, Lord Zein,” I say, the words dropping painfully from my lips. I swear by everything that he smirks, but the only thing I’m absolutely sure of is him and his advisors leaving, one clanking boot at a time. Once they are gone, Gemini pats me on the back.

  “You are free to move now. Eat more of that, okay?” he orders, gesturing to my bag of fruit. “That was nearly a disaster.”

  “Disaster? Are you serious? I would have barely hit my head or knees or something.”

  “Well, you never know... with how fragile you humans are.”

  I snort. “Yeah, you’re right. So fragile. Hopefully this grape doesn’t get lodged in my throat and I suffocate to death.”

  Gemini looks at me like I’m about to keel over and die.

  “I’m kidding, master Gemini.” I don’t understand why he would care anyway, unless keeping the blood supply safe is a life or death mission for these escorts. It’s funny how priorities change so suddenly between the Distribution and the seraglio, as well as the dynamic between all of the vampires involved—a vicious world overrun by extremes.

  “Calling me ‘master’ in the snarkiest way possible doesn’t accomplish what you intend to accomplish, Dimwit.” He sighs, rubbing his temples.

  A chuckle snakes its way into my throat. I’m wearing on him.

  “No, it does,” I assure. “Am I too much of a handful for you? Do you need to pass me off to someone else?”

  His dull, hazel eyes sweep over to me, taking me in with a smirk so cruel that I would never have guessed it belonging to Gemini. He crosses his fingers, and his expression strikes fear into my chest.

  “All you see is what I want you to see, darling. It is you who would benefit from other company.”

  The turn in conversation freezes me up, a raspberry that was halfway to my gaping mouth fumbles in between my fingertips as I picture every terror that his words could possibly allude.

  He laughs a guttural, stomach-turning laugh.

  “Nothing is ever fun and games,” he says. “Take what you are given with gratefulness. It is my job to make you feel comfortable here, you know, for heightened blood quality and all that.”

  I glower at him, realization slapping me in the face. I didn’t notice how comfortable I had already become with Gemini’s happy-sarcastic nature, and how I never once considered it could all be a show. He reads my face and puts his hands on his hips.

  “Oh, come now. I can’t let you have the upper hand all the time.” He winks at me, and suddenly I’m more confused than before. He either speaks sarcasm with much more grace and fluency, or he’s playing me in the palm of his hand. Either way, I’m jealous of the skill.

  Gemini struts down the hallway. “Come on, Dimwit. I have to get you back to the seraglio. I’ve got other issues to deal with besides the likes of you.”

  I stand dumbfounded for a moment and follow. The first obstacle are the stairs, of which I do my best to descend while inhaling the gold mine of blueberries stuck at the bottom of the fruit pack. We walk in such an awkward silence—well, awkward for me—because I can’t shake this sudden feeling of conflict—one that I never thought I would have. Gemini challenging my trust in his personality made me realize that I actually put trust in it. That I felt a level of comfort around him, and still kind of do.

  Why?

  I curse myself underneath my breath. Maybe I don’t hate all vampires. Individually, anyway. I despise the ones that attack and degrade humans, ones motivated by greed and malice—perhaps that is most of them, or even all of them. But really, my first impressions of Gemini, Ceti, and even the castle nurse aren’t all that bad. And if I were to pick at straws, Zein catching me earlier... well, that was almost an amiable act, even though the wounds on my neck beg to differ.

  I don’t know. The atmosphere feels different here, and I’m not sure if it is the castle or if it is me. It seems different from what I have always assumed, different than what I imagined when glaring at the professors and faculty from across the room back at the school.

  Was everything less dramatic than what I thought?

  I look down, studying my juice-stained hand and I frown. Despite the disapproval of every bone in my body, my all-consuming hatred of vampires isn’t amounting to a force all-too
-consuming.

  Why is that?

  I think of the doctor back in the Selection Hall. About the water and the blood. Maybe vampires are like us humans, trying to secure their finite resources. I look ahead to Gemini, who seems to be happily humming to himself.

  Then again, maybe they are only showing me what they want me to see.

  chapter 9

  The purple, hazy light from before—the one that led to the library—I see it again en route to the seraglio. I clam up, knowing that Gemini would also notice it. He’s a vampire after all, with stronger senses in every category. But even as we approach the fork, he keeps his eyes fixed ever left. While choking down my surprise, I wonder yet again if I’m crazy… but my curiosity is on fire. If I were to go back, would the library room be there? Was any of it even real?

  It doesn’t matter. It would be nice to get lost in something, especially now that I have to face the inevitable problems that come with dozens of other human women cramped up and pining over the same vampire… as well as my lack of a solid plan for escape. Shuddering at the thought, I pass the same auditorium from where I was first summoned, unsure of where I’m going or where everyone is.

  The first-floor lobby is a vacant, large square room that hosts several bamboo benches surrounded by clay-potted plants. There’s a decorated manhole that lies dead center in the space, a spiral staircase at its center.

  Although the darkness is a rough accommodation, I persist on my own after Gemini turns to mosey on back above ground. I stumble down the thin and steep stairwell to what looks like a factory. There are rows upon rows of connected desks that are bricked, grayed over from dust, and supporting the work of nearly every supply unit in the castle—from what I can imagine. It’s clear where the line is drawn between each duty. The laundry stations have teethed water wells built into their centers with two supply units assigned to each one. The water girl rinses and scrubs the assigned robes and sheets—given to them by the castle’s vampire servants—until they overflow their baskets with clean, dripping articles. Once her basket is full, the dryer girl drags the load toward the corner of the room where countless rails jut out from the wall, alternating upward and nearly reaching the ceiling that holds two huge… fans, I think they are called. A piece of technology from before the Days of Slaughter, meant to mimic high powered winds. That piece of history I learned from my mother, I’m fairly sure. The dryer effectively climbs the side rails while hanging the robes and sheets across several sections. Her partner cranks levers, spurring the cogs that turn the fan arms.

  I refocus my attention to the center of the room where supply units are using cloths, water, and peeling devices to clean mounds and mounds of human food. Well, I suppose it is also vampire food. They can’t live off human blood alone, from what I understand. My mouth waters when I spot crates of potatoes, cucumbers, cantaloupe, strawberries, rice, and other such items. Despite having just eaten, no amount of food can curb an appetite that has grown accustomed to hunger. Plus, who doesn’t like food?

  The next station is an assembly line of sorts. A wide, leather belt that holds glass tubes of product moves every minute or so between the circles of supply units. I spot the vials that are filled with chemicals, powders, and liquids, and I recognize the process immediately—thanks to the grade A self-education from Nightinghell. It is the art of blood compounding, the process of cultivating synthetic blood for impoverished vampires. During the Days of Slaughter, a few future-oriented vampires came up with a solution to the famine that had soon erupted. Synthetics. A technology so well-understood and harnessed that it only takes the mixing of a few ingredients to make a highly potent substitute for the real thing, even though it doesn’t fully satiate.

  My eyes fall on the two girls at the end of the synthetics assembly. One stirs the thick scarlet substance in a barrel, while the other funnels it into empty blood packs and places them in crates on a carrier. Then I recognize them: Savvy and Katarii. Without a moment’s hesitation, I descend the rest of the stairs, nearly tumbling to my death in my shaken rush. The flat ground is more welcoming of my flying feet, thankfully.

  “Sav!” I call out.

  Both she and Katarii turn to me, recognition lighting up their features like fireflies. Savvy catapults herself into my arms, nearly knocking me over. Her new, ruby robes are thick and warm. Her hair, freshly washed, smells of rose-water—her favorite flower. That’s one thing they guarantee us. If it has to do with anything that could potentially offend or displease your vampire owner—such as bodily stench—you would be treated to amenities that offset that. It’s one of the few ways they try to convince you that enslavement isn’t really enslavement.

  “Are you okay? I was so worried about you,” Savvy lets out in a breath.

  Every muscle tightens in my face and in my lungs. I can’t respond. Instead, I wrap my arms around her, my face falling on her shoulder.

  “Wave?” she questions.

  I now know she can feel the warmth from my tears that soak into her new pull-over robe. For the first time since opening my eyes this morning, the severe weight of the previous night hits me. I relive it. Zein’s overpowering presence within the shade of pure darkness. The pain of my blood curdling unnaturally icy beneath my skin. The haunting, and very real possibility that my actions may lead to the death of my best friend, who’s currently comforting me.

  But more so, I cry because despite the increased value of what I have to lose, I still want to escape. So badly that I consider unforgivable and gut-wrenching things. Despite the circumstances of this situation being better than expected, the thought of living the remainder of my life in yet another cage doubles me over. I’m not meant for it. I will go insane doing the same monotonous thing day after day to be readily available should Zein ever need me. Hatred reignites in my veins. I need to leave. If only to die a miserable death on my own time, I need that time.

  But I can’t lose Savvy.

  She strokes my back, consoling me, which fills my heart with even more shame. I leave the comfort of her shoulder and put in distance. For the first time, a wedge develops between us as real as the walls of Nightingale. Our biggest difference, the one we never needed to acknowledge because our friendship was so strong, is creating a fork in our lives. If only she wanted to be free like me. If only I could be as content as her.

  “What happened to you?” she prods in a whisper, pushing hair out of my face to better look at me.

  “I’m happy to see you,” I say in French, faking a smile.

  She grins, dimples assaulting her cheeks as Katarii approaches.

  “Wavorly, what happened? Everyone has been...” Katarii looks around the room uncomfortably. The other supply units quickly turn their attention elsewhere and I near shake my head. Why is it always me?

  “...worried,” she finishes, quieter now. ”Apparently being summoned so early on is very unusual and the rumors just exploded.”

  Great, I think to myself, looking around again as the idle chatter restarts across the room. If I wasn’t a popular conversation topic before, I definitely am now.

  Even though all other gazes have left mine, one pair of blue eyes still have the confidence to linger, bitterly. Anaya’s.

  “29734,” Anaya hisses my number from across the room. “Now that you’re done feigning sickness, it might be a good time to scrub the troughs.”

  The other supply units wrinkle their noses—a few of them even gagging a little.

  “The troughs?” I ask.

  Katarii enlightens me with a begrudging definition. “The latrines.”

  ✽✽✽

  “Oh my.” Savvy gasps.

  A putrid waft fills my nose and burns my eyes. I cover my mouth while muffling an apology to my companions.

  “The faster we do it, the faster we can forget it,” Katarii sighs, picking up her pail that’s loaded with an off-colored sponge, a roughly-cut bar of yellow soap, and a scrubbing brush with gunk on the ends. I’m grateful for Katarii’s optimism. R
ight now, “forgetting it” is enough of a motivator.

  The toilet troughs are literally troughs made of wooden “X” beams and steel landings. The steel is old and rusted, and most of the beams are water damaged to the point of rot—though I doubt water has ever been the culprit. It’s clear that the cleaning will not accomplish much—since the stench of sewage is most likely burned into the walls—but we at least give it a good effort.

  “So, Lord Zein actually bit you?” Savvy asks off-hand to me. Katarii looks my way briefly before going back to her scrubbing.

  “What?” I ask, and Savvy’s eyes drop to my neck.

  “Oh… yeah. They have vaccines now.”

  She nods. “The others told us. They said vampires prefer to bite, but apparently Lord Zein rarely does.”

  “That’s surprising.” I roll my eyes. “Let me guess, he bites when he’s mad?”

  She chews on her lip uneasily. “Usually when he doesn’t have time to wait for the kortrastet to pour, actually... but your guess would make sense, too...”

  Savvy switches from sponge to brush, awkwardly. “So, did you think you were going to turn into the fallen all the way up until he did it?”

  “Yes,” I groan, “Ended up looking like an idiot and passing out after begging him to kill me instead.” I shake my head at myself as I recall that moment. It’s one of those moments that will pop into my brain in the dead of night to remind me of how pathetic I am.

  “Wait, you can beg?” Savvy speaks French to me and gives me an incredulous look.

  “Shut up.” I laugh, smiling through the horror of getting some foreign substance from the trough on my hand.

  “What was that?” Katarii asks.

  “What was what?” Savvy replies.

  “Those words. They were words, right?”

  “You’ve heard us speak French, before,” Savvy chuckles.

  “Is that what it’s called?”

  “Yes, it’s my native language,” I interject for Savvy, none too enthusiastically. “From my hometown in France.”