“You alright?” I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I froze, expecting the worst punishment. A woman with blond wavy hair in a tight red knee-length dress was smiling at me. She was in her early thirties and holding a half-full glass of champagne that I couldn’t take my eyes off.
“Oh, you want this?” She passed me the glass.
I drank it down, not bothering to stop to taste it. She was still smiling.
“Better?”
My silence didn’t stop her.
“Really dear, there’s no reason for that going-to-the-gallows look.”
“Can you blame me?” I managed to say, and she uttered a charming laugh.
I had noticed that people here had a tendency to laugh. And she wasn’t at all pale.
“Of course not, but no one has seemed as perplexed as you do. How old are you anyway?”
“Eighteen.”
“Oh, you are the youngest of us,” she stopped to look at me better. “My name is Julia, I’m also an Inquirer and I was told that we are suitemates.”
“Nika.” This time my voice sounded slightly more confident.
“Nice to meet you, Nika. I believe that after the initial shock you will actually enjoy it here,” she said with an accent I couldn’t identify. She took my hand and led the way.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“San Diego. You?”
“Minsk.”
Of course I didn’t know where the hell that was, but I was embarrassed to ask. One thing was certain: the woman saved me from fainting in a place full of vampires. Plus, she seemed honest enough. And assuming my geographical ignorance, she explained.
“Minsk is the capital of Belarus. Eastern Europe.”
I forced a tiny smile.
“I know it’s a lot to digest for now but it’s all fun, really. You’ll see as soon as you relax a bit.”
I thought of the dark green gaze that had been thrown like a rock into my face. Yeah right, I’m gonna really like it here . . . but I didn’t want to burst her enthusiasm with my gloom. She stopped next to some people I had seen at the table.
“These are your colleagues. This is Lyndon; she’s a year older than you and she’s from London.” Julia grinned again.
Lyndon shook my hand and I told her my name.
“This is Max. He’s from Austria. And this is our one and only Blake Mason. He’s your countryman from Boston.”
Max, a chubby guy in his late thirties with a receding hairline, was grinning along with Julia. Blake was only a couple of years older than I was and seemed curious. Lyndon clearly hadn’t developed an opinion of me; nevertheless, a certain arrogance definitely came across.
“So, from where do you come from?” Max joyfully asked, holding a plate of cake.
I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant.
“Born and bred in California, busted in Iowa.”
“You sound as if they put you in a cage and tortured you for days.” That was Lyndon.
“What were you doing in Iowa for God’s sake?” The corner of Blake’s mouth was tilted up.
“I’m starting to wonder that myself, actually…”
They all laughed at my response, all but Lyndon. I was not sure what was so funny, as I wasn’t joking. Judging by their expressions, they seemed to already have accepted me.
“You are the youngest and I know how this must be shocking for you. But trust me, you’ll settle in just fine here,” Max offered.
“Settle in fine? She’ll be legend!” Julia grinned at me again. “First Inquirer of the Original!” She gave me a friendly hit with her shoulder, and I fabricated another smile.
I observed them, listening to their stories, not knowing how to contribute to the casual conversation. I was with my maybe-future fellow co-workers. But as I watched them, one question kept bugging me.
“Why us?”
They stopped talking and looked at me. Even though I had cut in, I couldn’t help myself.
“Why us of all people?”
Blake’s dark eyes spread in surprise.
“It seems that you’ve found yourself a partner in crime, Blake.” Max beamed. “You know, he’s trying to figure that one out too.”
“Emphasis on trying. I don’t have much material to begin with. And the vamps are not being very helpful either.” He watched me, intrigued.
“So, no one knows.” I concluded. Blake nodded affirmatively.
“Oh, there are more colleagues!” Julia pointed out a tall guy with light brown hair talking to a porcelain-esque girl. He looked to be in his late twenties. “That’s Tibor… He and Blake are suitemates, like you and I. But Max, Lyndon and Gustavo have their own suites. Gustavo’s been here for the longest time.”
“Since when?”
“For a couple of decades, as far as I know,” Max added.
“The whole of eternity,” Lyndon commented, and I found something reassuring in that. The man had endured that long in this place without being eaten or worse.
Gustavo appeared to be in his late fifties with almost fully gray hair, olive-skinned, and with wrinkles. Yeah, wrinkles—that’s something you didn’t see much in this place.
“Where’s he from?” I asked.
“Argentina,” Lyndon said aloofly. She had an oval face, and dark hair that fell nicely to her shoulders. She seemed composed and distant. Blake also had a bit of composed demeanor, but with his height it seemed aristocratic. Plus I’d seen him trying to smile. With her that was not the case.
She yawned.
“You tired?” Julia asked me.
“A little.”
“Let’s go then. Tomorrow’s the first day of your fairytale,” she told me, winking. I thought of fanged fairies fluttering around in wait of my death wish.
“I thought I was already done with the first day.” I waved goodbye to the others and followed her. She was really stunning in that red dress, and I wondered for whom it was meant.
“What do you think of them?”
“They accepted me enough, I think.”
“That’s for sure. I mean, I understand Blake’s obsession to find the pattern in the talent, as they call it. We’re all different. We hang with each other and with the others.”
“You mean vampires?” She didn’t seem to mind that I appeared taken aback.
“Of course. You’ll get used to it.”
We took the stairs to a lower level. Underground.
“Are we sleeping in coffins?”
“That wouldn’t be so odd, would it?” She laughed.
I didn’t answer.
“There’s a network of underground tunnels connecting the buildings. It’s a faster and warmer way around.”
Right, I forgot about the freezing weather outside.
“This time last year it was snowing,” Julia added.
“I’ve never felt this temperature in October, let alone seen snow.”
“Before coming here, Gustavo had never even seen the snow!”
“I can relate to that.”
“Only Max has no problem with the cold, but he comes from the Alps. And as for the rest of us . . . we’re managing,” she smiled.
“Too much new info.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll sleep like a baby. Something in this air knocks you out in no time.”
“I hope there’s nothing in the air for real.”
Julia laughed again. If nothing, I was glad I amused her. We entered a modern building that was light with modern furniture. None of the Dungeons and Dragons feel of the last building.
“This is our dormitory. It’s the smallest building and there are lots of rooms, if you wanna get your own. Lyndon was staying with me at first, and after a couple of months, she opted for her own place. Along with us, there are servants and three guards here.”
Guards, as in vampires, I thought.
“Room service is available day and night. You’ve already have met Lena. A strange, tough girl.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her family lived on the Scandinavian Peninsula and Vocati massacred them. The worst part is that she was there, poor creature. She saw everything.”
“How’d she end up here?”
“Warriors were tailing those Vocati for some time and they got into a fight. After the vamps successfully fought them off, they took Lena under their wing, not knowing what to do with her. She was only six, so they thought they’d let her stay with them and decide her future when she got older.”
“It’s not like it’s a hard choice. This is the only life she knows, and it sounds like she probably has some horrible memories,” I added.
I felt a certain sympathy for Lena; so serious and professional. There are terrible war stories, but for me this one beat them all.
“When did you come here?” I asked.
“Four years ago. Gustavo, Tibor and Max were already here. Then Blake and Lyndon came. And now we got you.”
We stopped in front of a door I hadn’t yet seen.
“I’ve already seen these signs…”
“They’re runes. This one is raido, which means the journey.”
It looked like broken letter R.
“Runes are the letter and symbolism of Nordic mythology. You’ll get your share of literature, don’t you worry.”
We entered a spacious light-colored room with two large couches in an L shape, a huge TV, impressive stereo, glass tables, red sofa, zebra skin cushions and a fluffy white carpet. It seemed pleasant.
“This is the common room. There is a kitchenette with a microwave and a coffee machine. As you can see, each has her own bedroom; yours is the one on the left.” She wished me goodnight and closed the door to her room, giving me time to get familiar with the place.
My bedroom was big, bigger than the one I had been in when I arrived. Is it possible that was only a few hours ago? I had always wanted to have a huge bed. This one had pastel yellow covers, and the wallpaper was dark red with vintage thin stripes. To the right of the bed and right next to the windows was an enormous closet. There was a table with a laptop on it, two night-tables on each side of the bed, and a green sofa. I wasn’t particularly fond of that green, especially in the light of the night’s events. Again the dark green gaze. I frowned.
The bookshelf facing the closet was filled with classics, but still had enough free space for me to fill in with personal touches. Byron, Elliot, Frost, Dostoyevsky, Shakespeare and many others milled around the shelves. I liked the choice and dragged the sofa next to it.
The walls were empty. I assumed I could do with them what I wanted. On the bed, I found my clothes that I had left in the other room. They smelled nice and clean, and beside them was a cotton white nightgown. Sweet, my mom would love to see me in that. Mom—I took a deep breath.
I found my cell phone and a folded piece of paper on one of the night tables. My week’s schedule was written in elegant handwriting, as well as a request for a list of people with whom I would like to stay in contact. Ha, not much to put there.
According to the schedule, tomorrow at 10am I had a History class followed by Psychology. Then lunch and training at 4pm. Those were the only classes I’d get. Only their timetable changed. There were no professor names or information on where the classes would take place. I’d have to wake up early and ask Julia.
The darkness of the forest stared through the windows at me in the cotton nightgown, cuddled under the comforter. It was cozy and I disappeared into the peace behind my eyes like a carefree lamb before the slaughter.
Chapter 3
The First Day
Following Lena to my first class, I thought about the previous night’s dream. In it, I was standing with my back against a mossy wall, barefoot, feeling the wetness of the dew on the grass. In front of me, an angry peasant crowed yelled in an unknown language while throwing dark green rocks at me! I had felt pain in my sleep, and now its symbolism was even more irritating.
“This is the biggest building in the compound and most things are done here. Classes and training, and the cells are here too.”
Lena’s words pulled me from my dream. We were on a vast lower floor. We walked through a steel door and on past glass-walled rooms that seemed to be offices and were, for the most part, empty. When we arrived at a metal staircase, she stopped.
“Through that door,” she indicated the one on my right, “are your training classes.” We continued up the stairs. I followed nervously, glancing back at the dark door.
I thought of the horrific images of her parents’ death that were now a part of her. Forever repeating the same terror over and over. At least that’s what I would do, and, from her serious look, I knew that her pillow was probably still tear-stained at night. I’ve always hated that animal-territorial-whatever primal instinct. I’d always thought about it in the context of human wars, but apparently untamed vampires share the same brutality. Violence is in our core; it’s the essence of our survival. No matter the millennium, it always comes down to that. However, with my whole being I wished for something different—for people to overcome those primal instincts with their mind, with education. It couldn’t be something found in a utopian fantasy world—it had to be possible!
Lena stopped in front of another door.
“Mr. Matthews is waiting for you.”
After she had left, I tapped on the door, realizing that I was actually entering a vampire’s den. We would be one-on-one. Oh, no. Panic overwhelmed my body just as a melodic voice bid me to come in.
Gritting my teeth, I entered.
“Sit wherever you wish, Miss Young.”
He was leaning against the table, and, when I entered, looked up in happy anticipation. He looked to be in his early thirties, and he had a sincere-seeming smile, porcelain skin, and lively brown child-like eyes.
“I am François Matthews and I’ll be teaching you about vampire history. The relevant parts.” His eyes smiled.
The room seemed like any other professor’s space, with a glass table, white board on the wall, and a built-in bookcase that stretched floor to ceiling. Matthews himself looked like an average college professor in a tweed jacket with elbow patches—though fashionable, not old.
I sat as far away as possible within the limits of politeness. I didn’t want to deal with another angry fangy vampire.
“Do you have any special request regarding what I should call you?”
“Nika?” I was very careful.
“Good. Shall we start then, Nika?” He flashed me another toothy grin. No fangs, though, which was comforting. He passed a notebook and pencils to me. Right, school supplies—I forgot about that.
“Surely you have many questions, so, why don’t we start from there.”
Yeah, a ton! Only, in that moment I felt unprepared, blank. I dug around for the first one.
“So, the daylight—” I started, but he waved me off with a chuckle.
“We are not of the Bram Stocker mythology lines. We are a living, breathing species, a civilization of its own. We are integrated into human society, we work, pay taxes, eat . . . and fight our own daily battles,” he said, and based on his look, he didn’t seem too excited about explaining the difference between urban fantasy vampires and their own species. He waited for my next question.
“Well, I’ve been told that vampires are born not created.”
“That is correct. There is a Book of Law, which is not as large as those law books that humans use…” He laughed at his joke. “It strictly forbids the making of a vampire out of a human. This is because of centuries and centuries of problems and wars with humans that all resulted from the existence of those creatures—Rogues, the created vampires. Their tempers were troublesome due to the specific mixture of human blood and our poison. They were extremely wild, frantic and savage. Brutally violent. In earlier times it was thought that this was part of the makeover, the period of adjustment that happened before they evolved into the way we are. But that idea turned out to be false. Time passed and they b
ecame even more untamed and violent—so my race finds no comfort in the existence of such an un-trainable and uncontrollable wild horde.”
“Do they still exist?”
“No, they became extinct long time ago.”
I thought of Baldur and his bare teeth being completely untamable. The short hairs sprung up along the nape of my neck.
“Why did they exist in the first place?” I asked.
“First out of love. Vampires are born from relationship between vampire man and human woman, who may or may not give birth to a vampire child. There is one chance in three that a baby born of this union will be vampire. So, we all have had one human parent and sometimes even human siblings. We do actually age, but at a much slower rate than humans . . . thus the love dramas. They are a huge part of our history, maybe even more so than in human history. After birth we continue to age as a human does until we reach eighteen, and then the vampire preservation gene awakens and each of our years equals several human decades until we enter our thirties. After that, one of our years equals one of your centuries.”
I considered that timespan, overwhelmed, and wondered how old he could be.
“Human mothers are usually happy with their vampire children; but the problem is, of course, that they age and the children stay the same. Our history is not so much based on blood like human history is—but rather, on broken hearts. Maybe you can understand why vampires used to turn their women, create them. They did it out of deep love, or because the women begged them. It was hard for women to be aware of their own decay while their spouses look as they did the first day they had met. Most of them would do anything to stop aging. The vampire would always stay with his beloved no matter her age, until her death. Often, the women themselves would chase their vampire lovers away, not wanting to be seen in their old and wrinkled state. A lot of suffering was, and probably still is, harbored in these relationships. Of course, there were—and are—those cases when the vampire was one who departed, leaving behind the hate and anger. But such betrayal is extremely rare for our race; mostly those were the deeds of Rogues.”
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