by Kelsey Quick
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“Did you hear from Madam Seriesa?” A supply unit says in passing while I head for the outer recreation area.
“No, what?” the other indulges.
“Lord Giomar from the Alaysian Province is here. Apparently he made a surprise visit to see our gracious Lord Zein.”
I put my head down and side step around the two girls. So that’s what the commotion has been about. A relentless circulation of chatter had been spreading through the seraglio, traveling from group to group, girl to girl, blood sac to blood sac—like a wildfire since midnight. Giomar, huh? I could really punch him in the face after what he did to Savvy. Come to think of it, do Savvy and Katarii know? I stop on the last few steps, preparing to turn around.
Thinking on it twice, however, I continue toward the recreation area. No, they were together on the work line where no rumor stone is left unturned. If they are upset, anything I say probably won’t help. Giomar’s rejection and their mutual disappointment is yet another thing they have in common, and my ultimate advice to ‘suck it up’ wouldn’t sit too well with either of them.
I scowl as I push open the door to the outside. The small world of pines and stone walls is a dark and cascading blue, the air still carrying with it the scent of winter despite the mid-season warmth. This small outdoor space for supply unit recreation is a five-story climb from the bottom of the seraglio. A rusty old door at the back leads up to the hatch, where the outside world lies. It’s a modest space for athletics and mild sunbathing. I had already scoped out the area for possible escape routes, but the perimeter of the enclosure is secured by a wall and guardsmen every fifty meters.
The space itself gives me small sense of nostalgia. Each time I step out into this small section of normalcy, my soul rekindles its spark; it’s joy for life. Running is my only escape.
Humming cicadas, thin wildflowers, a moon as bright as candlelight; the utter lack of care for anything but the present reminds me that simpler times existed, and could still exist again.
A soldier standing adjacent to the door greets me.
“Well?” His voice spikes at the end. “Get going, then.”
This particular guard is always here when I run in the evenings and seems to hate when I linger. Since I know that it bothers him, sometimes I make a point to do it.
“Bite me.” I dare him.
My tag goes off in response and nearly sends me off my feet.
But I was summoned yesterday, what in the—?
The soldier scoffs. “Unfortunately, it won’t be me doing the biting but the job’ll get done, it seems.”
Of course the tag would go off now, right in the middle of a comeback war. Pushing my way past him and back into the castle, I descend the steps in a trot. The nefarious beeping clings to my ear drums like a tick on a goat. It’s all I can do to change clothes, and shoulder through the fierce stares of the other girls as I make my way up the circular staircase, but I’m getting used to it. Narref meets me at the junction. As I come into his sight, the vampire attendant at the front punches in my numbers, silencing the tag.
“Took you long enough,” Narref murmurs, leaning side to side to analyze me.
“I was just about to run and I needed to change… sorry.”
He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows.
“...Sorry, your grace,” I reluctantly finish.
He upturns his nose and heads for the entrance to the rest of the castle. “Take care while following. We are going a different route this time.”
“I would imagine,” I reply. “With Lord Giomar here, it must be… the sitting room? Or is it the dining hall, your grace?”
Narref does not respond but he straightens slightly, turning right in the grand hall rather than left—away from the ivory staircase.
“What? I said ‘your grace,’ so why are you upset?” I simper.
“I heard you. Yes, the dining hall.” He seems on edge.
We enter through a set of doors as servants rush about with linens and trays in hand, each talking to one another so fast that I can barely make out any of it. Crimson curtains drape in front of rounded, steeple-like doors—the separate covered sections housing a different set of servants, cooking supplies, and stations. Wonderful smells afflict my nostrils. Roasting skewers of meat and veggies and sugary delicacies of all sorts—most of which would be covered with a layer of human blood upon serving. As I read back at Nightingale, vampires don’t only consume blood. They also require things other than syrupy metallics. My gag reflex reprimands my imagination.
“Lord Zein knows that he just summoned me yesterday, right?” I tiptoe the subject, mulling over the outline of him in my mind. “I have a history of passing out after multiple feedings, your grace.”
“Both our lord and I are well aware,” he replies, “Fortunately, you were not summoned for your blood, this evening.”
“What?” I nearly trip on my ruby dress that’s two sizes too long for me. As if all supply units—especially the ones who were not spawned for genes—are six foot tall.
Narref stops at the next doorway separated by garnet-embroidered fabric.
“Quiet. Remember your teachings,” he whispers.
Voices from beyond the veil pause a moment.
“Oi, Narref, old chump. You actually brought her, eh?” A gravelly voice slices through the curtain, followed by deranged laughter. The lump in my throat tightens, threatening to send up my lunch. It’s Hox Giomar.
“Really, Hox? Drunk already?” Another voice. This one I’ve gotten to know over the past month… Zein’s. “Come in, Narref. You both may enter.”
“Yes, my lord.” Narref answers while side glancing me with his demand. I reluctantly fall in line behind him. Head down, wrists crossed, breathing even, muscles relaxed—yet postured.
What could they possibly want from me? If not my blood?
Only the marble tile welcomes my gaze as we emerge into the dimly lit room. The dancing lantern light plays with shadows of nearby chair legs and gold-embossed furnishings. I trail Narref’s black slacks until his gait turns to face the center of the room. I turn as well, but keep my head down. The burning desire to take in my surroundings—to know what I’m dealing with—floods every muscle in my face.
Keep looking down, keep looking down.
“So, this creature here… is the infamous Z29734?” Giomar’s voice pierces the air. The octaves rise as he continues, “The legendary human who spat in the council of Cain’s face—in my face—and still managed to get picked up by her sponsor? That one?”
My whole body is suddenly shivering. Uncontrollably.
“You asked to see her, well here she is.” Zein’s tone sounds exasperated, and I can’t say I blame him.
Giomar wanted to see me?
“My little birdies don’t lie,” Giomar sing-songs and tension hangs in the air. “I knew she was still alive. As well as the other two.”
My heart skips a beat. Savvy and Katarii?
Zein scoffs. “All right, Narref. That’s enough, send her back.”
“No, no, no, Narref. You stay there,” Giomar slurs, turning to Zein.
“Listen, mate, you can’t just be goin’ around taking supply units, regardless if they are passed on or not. It’s just not in the game. You’re young and stupid so I’ll let it slide this once but… you really should at least, I don’t know, ask or something.”
Giomar lets his fists fall to the table and I jump. “‘Ey girl. What are you staring at your feet for? Enjoy the party.”
“It is against her training,” Zein interrupts with a snarl.
“Pfft. Training? That ship has long sailed, mate.” Giomar counters. “Besides, rules are meant to be broken. You’re living proof of that.” He snickers and a fierce silence sweeps the room, chilling and lucid, as if war is about to break out over the table. Even Narref shifts his weight from heel to heel.
“I said to look up,” Giomar finally repeats.
I hesitantly lift m
y gaze, anxiety pumping far too fast through me to think of a better alternative. Giomar and Zein sit across a long, wooden and sculpted table spread end to end with hearty portions of Sabbanthian delicacies. My eyes skirt the roasted meats and vibrant fruits and vegetables before falling on Giomar, himself. He’s dressed in leather armor—dyed pieces of bound animal skin and metal plates covering a black ensemble, complete with the dangling silver emblems of Cain. The only amethyst thing on him is in the form of crystals hanging from his pointed ears, visible beneath his trimmed brown hair. His face, more disturbing now up close, draws upward as he completes his ferocity with a smirk. Vampires seem to always be good looking, but there’s something about the bad ones—the ones who look like they killed for a living and never batted an eye. The ones that seem to always be contemplating the worthlessness of your soul.
Behind Giomar stands a vampire official clad in in amethyst robes and hood, but it’s the girl next to him that hitches my breath. Human, as there is no doubt by her fragile existence. She’s shuddering, wobbly. Near every visible part of her is bruised and discolored as if she’s battling some pervasive illness. Dark circles line her eyes and beneath her cheekbones, trailing down her neck to the deep pools of her clavicles—utterly skeletal. Her right arm is connected to the vampire attendant at her side by way of a kortrastet, the thin, deep red tube weaves up into the vampire’s hand like a puppet string. A clawed forefinger covers the end of the siphon, apparently waiting for its master to give the order for more blood. This... is how Giomar treats his supply units. This is what wholly devoted Savvy would have had to look forward to. Rage tenses every muscle in my body.
“Oh.” Giomar turns to look at her as well. “You like her, eh?” He smiles back at me. “Aye, me too. She’s a great one. The best blood in my whole seraglio, if you ask me.”
Then why don’t you treat her better? The same spark from the Selection Hall ignites my tongue and the control over my body swiftly depletes.
“Sorry to say, I’ll be keeping an eye on her so you can’t go takin’ her too,” he says to Zein, laughing heartily and cutting another bite out of his plate of meat. On the other side of Zein, Madam Ceti stands prim and proper with peripherals glancing me.
“More,” Giomar says as he takes a long swig of emerald liquid out of a wine glass. His attendant moves forward, dragging the frail supply unit up to the side of the table. He releases the siphon over the food and her blood coats the plate. A string snaps and I take half a step forward but Narref yanks back on my arm. Giomar smiles at me before addressing Zein.
“Would you like any? Yours is looking a little dry since you sent that other girl off.”
“No,” bluntly, Zein replies.
Giomar chuckles, cutting another slice of meat while shaking his head.
“So, I hear you and my old supply units were good friends back at Nightingale,” he says to me, using his fork to take a bite of the bloody steak. What could he possibly be after?
“Yes.” I say, leaving out the fact that Katarii really wasn’t.
“Are they happy here? With Lord Zein?”
I hesitate, fearing where this all might be going. Zein doesn’t interject, so I respond. “Yes. He treats them very well.”
“Ah, but would you say he makes good use of them? Of their valuable, youthful blood?”
My muscles constrict and I look to Zein, who remains silent. I shake my head to answer.
“No,” I whisper.
“I could have guessed. This ol’ chap has never been the type to effectively utilize his resources. Just think. All of that blood laid to waste, and not even curbing fallen hunger.”
Suddenly, I know why he’s here, and everything blurs.
He leans back in his chair. “All right then. I’ve decided. I want ‘em back.”
All boundaries lift in an instant and everything becomes free game.
“No,” I reply and every head in the room turns to me.
Narref pulls on me, rougher this time. “Be quiet, 297-”
“You can’t let him take them.” I turn to Zein whose expression is filled to the brim with animosity.
What am I doing?
“He will kill them!”
“Stay in your place,” he growls, and with as much restraint I can muster, I step back.
Giomar laughs maniacally. “Oh Anton, this… this is too great. You’re as soft as I knew you’d be, unable to control what supply you do have.”
Embarrassment draws heat to my face. I just screwed up. Royally.
“Why the elders decided to trust you with so much responsibility, I’ll never know.” The amethyst ruler takes another swig of the clearly-alcoholic beverage in his glass.
Zein sneers. “Right. You will never know because they cannot even trust you with a simple explanation.”
Giomar’s persistent smile drops into a crisp line.
“Are you done now?” Zein asks. “Any further and I will submit this encounter to the elders as an act of treason.”
The smirk returns and Giomar shifts his gaze to me. The way he does sends fear-filled goosebumps along my body.
“Oh, so trying to reclaim what’s mine is treasonous now, is it?”
“Under the given circumstances, yes.”
I swallow heavily. Does that mean Zein’s not handing over Savvy and Katarii? Silence lingers on until—
“Right, well…” Giomar stands and drops his hand towel into the plate of unconsumed blood and food. “It’s late. And I have news to report to the council.”
“Is that so?” Zein stands as well, not looking the least bit shaken.
“Aye,” Giomar replies as his assistant helps him into an amethyst overcoat. “That their thieving poster child can’t even manage his humans, let alone our ties with Abethos.”
He snaps his fingers and marches out of the room, his attendant and supply unit falling in line behind him. Gemini appears out of an adjacent hall and hesitates.
“I-I will see you out, lord Giomar.”
“Good,” the high-strung lord utters, letting Gemini lead the way. He turns one last time to Zein and sneers. “Those rioters outside the capital may not be so crazy after all, eh, mate?”
After the footsteps dissipate and the dining hall quiets, Zein drops back into his crafted chair. “Get out. All of you.”
I swallow a lump in my throat, rebelling even as Narref coaxes me to the door. “Lord Zein, I—”
“Get out,” he repeats, louder and less patient now.
Narref basically lifts me off the floor to filter me back through the doors, of which houses an eavesdropping Madam Ceti. She’s unusually somber and quiet… as if she knows, too, that nothing good could possibly come of this evening.
chapter 12
The seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes to hours. Today, like most of the days over the last three weeks, my tag should be going off—if Zein were to keep up his streak of summoning me every other day. However, yesterday could very well make it to where he never summons me again, and I don’t know how to feel about that, not when I have so much to say. So much to plead and, inevitably, apologize for.
“You going to eat that?” Savvy asks with a forced smile.
“No, go ahead.” I slide my boiled eggs and tomatoes toward her and she mouths her thanks. Ever since she witnessed me get summoned yesterday amidst Giomar’s visit, Savvy’s been walking on pins and needles. I assured her, much to my ever-growing list of things to feel guilty about, that I never even saw Giomar, and that Zein was just in the mood for my blood. However, she’s still been acting strange.
“The food seems good today, huh?” Katarii approaches from the line, choosing a spot across from Savvy. Surprise, surprise.
Higher than the long string of white lies on my guilt list, is the potential that Zein could take out his wrath on Katarii or Savvy. They were the subjects of the growing tension that ultimately led to my disregard for my place, and Giomar’s unseemly departure. So, it wouldn’t shock me if, at any
moment, Savvy’s or Katarii’s tag went off. And the shrilling siren in this moment would be no different... except that it’s my tag.
Zein’s sticking to his routine. At least, I can only hope that’s what he’s doing.
“Good luck,” Savvy says in French after a wave of surprise flees her face.
“Thanks,” I reply back, my expression deadpan, though my internal monologue is having a fit. “Hopefully he doesn’t bleed me dry.”
As I leave, I overhear Savvy explaining to Katarii the meaning of our small bit of French, and I frown a bit.
Gemini is the one who greets me at the entrance to the seraglio. He’s fresh with his pristine blond hair and clean-shaven face.
“Good morning, master,” I say as cordially as possible.
“Hello, Wavorly.” His voice seems a little off today. “Did you make sure to eat?”
He must also be feeling the effects of last night’s debacle. It has put all of the vampire attendants on edge.
“A little. Surely, you can smell it on my breath.” I attempt to joke.
He chuckles, his mood seeming to recover a bit. “I was trying not to. This way.”
The seraglio attendant punches in my number as I pass. I’m convinced that he’s had it memorized since the first couple evenings, but now he eyes me even more suspiciously than the first night.
Gemini leads me down the dark passageways that have started to become second nature to my feet. Although I could walk the entire way blindfolded, I still analyze everything; searching for every weakness that Zein’s monstrous castle may conceal, especially now that it might be my, Savvy’s, and Katarii’s best chance. I know perfectly well that I could never convince them to escape with me under the current circumstances, but if Zein were to actually consider giving them back to Giomar, I would do whatever I had to do. We pass the hallway where the violet wall is, and I see it glowing. It’s been glowing for the last four days, but I can’t bring myself to try and go back. If it can take me into the past, who knows where it will take me next. I hate to admit that I’m too scared to find out, and far too distracted right now.