by Eden Fierce
“Oh yeah?” I said, reaching down to poke at his only weakness: his ribs. Lukas let out a howl, and I giggled.
“All right, all right,” Father said as he walked into the room. “That’s enough. Before you break something … again.”
A knock sounded on the door, and we all looked at one another. Father opened the door, leaning his head just far enough that I couldn’t read his lips as he whispered to whomever stood outside.
“Understood.” Father shut the door and just one look let us know that our work for the day wasn’t finished.
“Should I get the horses?” Lukas asked, glancing at me. My hopes lifted for just a moment, hoping Father would let me stay. I didn’t know why he made me go along; he knew I hated it. Father gestured to Lukas, then looked to me. “Help your brother.”
I obeyed, following Lukas outside. The ground was covered in dew, and everything was quiet, even the doves. Lukas had a candle in hand, making his way to the stalls. He pulled out our geldings, and I helped him fasten them to the wagon.
“Who do you think it is?” I asked.
“Probably old man Smithson. He hasn’t been well lately.”
Father came out with Clemens, wearing his good coat. We watched as he climbed into his seat and gripped the reins firmly in his hands. Clemens sat next to him, and I joined my brother in the back.
Lukas didn’t seem fazed. He didn’t feel the way I did; the deaths didn’t seem to bother him. The reason for collecting them didn’t either. It was all meant for death. Everything we did. When I was young, I was proud of who we were, but as I learned more about what the Priory meant, we felt less like protectors, and more like dealers of death.
I reached up and touched Father’s shoulder.
“Is it Mr. Smithson?” I asked.
He patted my hand.
“Who is it?” I whispered.
“She’s from Eyre. It’ll be an hour’s ride. No one we know, love. No one we know.”
I sat back, only partly relieved. The road to Eyre was rough. I stared at my father’s large black bag, knowing the horror that waited inside. The tubing and the glass bottles that would collect the lifeless blood we used for Vileon.
The sun had already breached the horizon by the time Father slowed the horses. The wagon came to a halt in front of a run-down home just outside Eyre, the village just to the east of ours. That it was an unfortunate family only made me feel worse. Our clients were mostly poor, desperate for the measly ten chits Father offered for the blood of their dead. My father brought his bag with him as he stepped off the wagon. A teenage girl about my age stepped outside to greet us.
“Thank you, Mr. Helgren,” she whispered, pulling him into the house.
Lukas and I traded glances.
My father didn’t respond. The dirt floor crunched beneath my shoes as I followed quietly behind Lukas. The air was stale and smelled foul, typical for most houses we entered for collection.
“Really, sir, she thought it quite an honor to be of use to you.” She smiled softly, pride in her eyes. “It helped her, too…she was at peace with her death.”
The girl walked to the back of the house, glancing back at Father with pure adoration, clearly hoping for a sign of his approval. He was well-known everywhere we went, hailed as a hero, a savior, or both.
Father nodded, and I thought I caught a glimmer of embarrassment in his eyes. He might have been one of the greatest Priors to have ever lived, but he was a humble man.
“They say you have no fear,” she said. She took a left turn down a hall and then turned into the first room. A woman lay in the bed, frail and still.
Father set his bag on the bedside table and began to work without a response to her silly statement. He was a man with four children who went out into the woods every night. Of course he had fear. Changing meant the end of humanity and an eternity of torture from insatiable thirst, and we had been in danger of that since we turned old enough to hunt. Father made us all promise that if any of us were turned, and he was unable to end our suffering, the others would take care of it for him. We were his only weakness.
Lukas poked tubes through the holes in the lids of two large jars. I took two needles and inserted them into tiny veins in each of her arms.
“Eris?” Father asked.
“Difficult, but…yes…it’s flowing.” Once the dark blood began to flow, I looked away, unable to watch the steady dripping and then splashing into the glass containers.
After that, all there was left to do was wait.
A yawn escaped my lips, and Father touched my arm.
“Just a bit longer.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
Clemens checked the tubing and used different pressure points on the woman’s body to facilitate the blood flow. Once the jars were full, Father pulled out a pen.
“Would you sign, please?” he said, holding out a paper to the girl.
“Me? I don’t think I—”
“I’ll do it,” a man said, stepping out from the shadows. He’d been there awhile, quiet and solemn. Father had chosen not to address him, so I followed his example. Ours was a questionable business, paying money for the blood of the dead, but Father insisted that we conduct ourselves as professionals, and that we treat the families with respect.
The man signed, he was given his chits, and then he stumbled back to his wooden stool in the corner, covering his face with his hands. The girl comforted him, and Father motioned to us that it was time to pack our things and leave.
“Should we have just taken her, Father?” Lukas asked as he settled into the back of the wagon. “Like we did with Ireck?”
“Ireck was a friend. It was best for Cala that we harvested his blood where she couldn’t see. They don’t agree with this, you know.”
“Then why did Cala allow us to harvest him at all?” Lukas began.
“Because it is the duty of the council to protect our territories, even in death.”
“But it’s not the duty of the poor?”
“They are those whom we protect.”
“Is that why you pay them?”
“Yes,” Father said simply, and the wagon moved forward.
We rode the entire journey home in silence, too tired to carry a conversation.
After we unloaded Father’s bag and unharnessed the horses, I trudged into the house and collapsed onto my bed. After a few moments, I groaned and then stood. My body was begging for rest, but I needed to change out of my clothes. I hung up my daggers and holsters and changed into a long, white, cotton gown.
Eager to climb into bed, I took a leap onto the mattress and quickly pulled up the covers around me. After a deep breath, my body melted into the softness beneath me.
While I was waiting to fall asleep, a familiar feeling came over me. I felt it nearly every morning when I turned in, but the sun was high in the sky. The eerie feeling surprised me. I pulled the blanket up to my neck, and I waited.
A small peck at the window, and I was on my feet, in a defensive stance. Only the perimeter wall a hundred yards or so could be seen, and then one of my cousins walking along the stone wall with a crossbow slung over his shoulder.
I looked down at the grass beneath my window. A small, perfectly round pebble was nestled in the dry, yellow remains of the grass. I looked up again. My cousin was gone, but a pair of small, reflective eyes glimmered at the top of the wall.
“Father!” I screamed. “Father!”
Clemens and Father rushed into my room at the same time, both with tired eyes and wearing their nightclothes.
“What is it? What is it, child?” Father said, looking in all directions outside my window.
“I saw something! At the top of the wall!”
Father scrambled outside. Clemens followed closely behind. The grounds were suddenly alive and busy. The Priory was on full alert, and my family was standing at every checkpoint along the wall.
Mother came into my room, waiting for news while I kept close, dagger
in hand.
Outside my window, one of the cousins approached Father, and they had an intense discussion. Father seemed angry, and I was nervous when I heard the front door slam. He came into my room without my brothers.
“I know what I saw,” I said.
“Aye, that’s what I told the others. The scouts saw nothing. No tracks. You’re sure it wasn’t an animal, Eris?”
“I can tell the difference between an animal and a nightwalker, Father. I saw its eyes.”
“It doesn’t make sense for one to be out in the daylight,” he said, mostly to himself. He was troubled. “You’re sure your eyes weren’t just playing tricks on you? You’re exhausted.”
“No. I don’t think so. I mean…it’s possible, but…”
Father nodded, and held out his hand for my mother. “Get some sleep.”
I tried. My body begged for sleep, but after hours of tossing and turning, I finally climbed out of bed well before evening. I ambled down the hallway to the great chamber. It was empty and dark except for the embers glowing red in the fireplace. The house was quiet, and I wrapped my arms tighter across my waist.
The eyes that hovered above the stone wall that surrounded our home wouldn’t leave my thoughts. I played that moment over and over in my mind, trying to think about what the face around the eyes looked like. But the harder I focused, the less I could see.
By the time I’d kindled another fire, the house was alive again. The clouds snuffed out the late-afternoon sun.
Lukas trudged into the great chamber in a rather foul mood. “Father has said we’re staying in tonight,” he grumbled, twisting the iron tool in his hands.
I sat up. “Oh? Did he say why?”
“So that you can rest. You know…for your celebration.”
I instantly felt sick. “Oh.”
I went into the kitchen and came upon Jonathan sitting at the table. He was watching Ursula pull fresh bread from the oven.
“Smells wonderful, Ursula,” Mother said with a smile.
“Can you teach me?” Jonathan asked.
“To bake?” Ursula asked, surprised.
Jonathan shrugged his shoulders, his cheeks turning a pale shade of red. “I just like it so much. Seems like I should know how to make it for myself.”
“It’s a good idea, Jonathan,” I said, patting his shoulder.
His embarrassment vanished, and he joined Ursula, watching her intently.
Mother shook her head. “I have a son who wishes to learn to bake, and a daughter who refuses to.”
I offered an apologetic half smile. “But she’s good to have around in the dark?”
Mother chuckled and leaned against my side. “That she is.”
Ursula rang the bell, and several pairs of footsteps could be heard making their way to the table.
Mother sat next to me and patted my knee. “Blessings, please.”
I nodded, and once Father and the boys were settled, we all bowed our heads.
“Bless us, Father God, that we work for your glory. And bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies. Amen.”
Everyone at the table repeated my last word in unison, all in different tones.
Father sat at the opposite end of the large wooden table from Mother. The boys sat on each side, and although I usually sat next to Father, Mother seemed to want to be closer to me lately. I imagined it was because of my upcoming betrothal.
Two extra chairs sat empty. Those we kept for guests, but we hadn’t had any in a while.
A knock sounded at the door, and Father left the table. His deep voice softened while he spoke to the person at the door. He returned only briefly to kiss my mother, and then he took his hat and coat and left again, shutting the heavy door behind him.
We all looked to Mother. She squirmed nervously in her seat.
“He had some business to attend to. Eat your breakfast.”
“What kind of business?” Jonathan asked.
Mother lowered her chin, and my little brother sank back into his seat.
“Sorry,” he said.
After a few bites, Clemens set down his fork. “Should we go into town, Mother? I could pick up the fabric you were wanting. It should be in.”
“What a wonderful idea, Clemens, thank you,” Mother said.
Lukas, Jonathan, and I rolled our eyes. We knew the real reason he wanted to venture into town. If we had the night off, he wanted to see Emelen.
“Be sure to bring your brothers and sister with you,” Mother added.
Clemens paused, and then his shoulders fell. I stifled a giggle. Mother knew his real reason too.
We walked together, the younger boys teasing Clemens. I walked along one rut, while the boys walked in a line in the other. The wagons left deep indentations in the roads, and once the mud dried, it was a fun way to pass the time it took to walk to town.
We passed the first houses, A-framed and made of stacked wooden planks and small windows with attached shutters. The roofs were covered with woven strips of bark, leather, and tar, and covered in grass. I sometimes wished our house looked like theirs, but Mother explained that our stone walls were necessary.
While Clemens stood with Emelen in front of Brewster’s Bakery in the center of town, I took the boys to the sweet shop. After picking out a few pieces of licorice, we ducked into the blacksmith’s, looking for anything new.
“Nothing exciting,” Lukas said.
“Where next?” Jonathan asked.
I put my hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “We best pick up the fabric for Mother. No doubt Clemens will forget.”
Jonathan chuckled.
We pushed open the door to the fabric store, and Lukas ran his fingers over the bright hues and prints. Mother had her eye on a purple jacquard, so I chose two shades, grape and lavender, and paid the woman at the counter.
Jonathan nodded in approval. “Clemens owes you one.”
“I’ll add it to the pile,” I said as we returned to the street.
The sun was setting, so I found the closest bench and sat too. We watched the townspeople hurry about their errands so they could get home, and listened to the village weavers singing their beautiful birdsong while they settled into their nests for the night. Neither the birds nor the people dared wander at night, for fear of the predators from deep within the Glades. Mothers hurried their children along the dirt streets, and one by one, the shops began to close.
The clouds broke just long enough for the glorious sun to make a dramatic exit, painting the sky in purples and pinks as it extinguished into the mountaintops.
I closed my eyes and welcomed the last moments of the sun that I loved so much. It was so warm, so different from the cold night. Maybe one day I would find a way to spend my days in the sun instead of inside asleep. Until then I would have to learn to love the moon.
“I’ll, uh…I’ll be right back,” Lukas said. He disappeared behind a corner before I had a chance to call after him.
Jonathan made a face.
“Do you know where he’s off to?” I asked.
Jonathan just sighed. “Why does everyone have to act so crazy when they get older?”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed again. “Nothing.”
After several minutes of waiting, I grabbed Jonathan by the hand and walked in the direction Lukas had run. We passed Clemens and Emelen along the way.
“Have you seen Lukas?” I asked.
Clemens nodded and pointed to the alley. I walked in that direction and came upon Lukas, his arms crossed, his head leaned against the corner of the building. He was gawking like an idiot at Johanna Wayland.
“It’s time to go, Lukas.”
“But—” he said, startled. His reaction annoyed me. He was a trained Prior. It was in his blood to detect something or someone sneaking up on him, and all it took were the detestably straw-colored locks and hideous bright-green eyes of that sow to distract him.
“We’re going home, Lukas. Now.”
I
walked away, and Lukas followed with a smile on his face.
“Why so cross, sister?” he asked.
I turned on my heels, and Lukas stopped with just an inch between our noses.
“Of all the ridiculous girls in this godforsaken territory, you’re falling for Johanna?” I seethed.
“She’s wonderful,” Lukas said in the most preposterous tone.
“She’s awful!”
“She’s beautiful.”
“She’s a boorish, brainless witch!”
Lukas’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t realize you were friends.”
I groaned at his teasing, and Lukas howled with laughter.
Jonathan frowned. “You’ve never forgiven her, have you?”
“And I never will,” I said, continuing home.
LUKAS CHUCKLED AND THEN CROSSED HIS ARMS. “We were only talking.”
Johanna had been cruel to me as a child, and I always chalked it up to jealousy. One day she caught Lukas’s eye, and she realized she didn’t need to be jealous because she could marry into our family. Of course, she never admitted to it, but I knew what she was up to.
“I’ve warned you about her. She means to use you, Lukas. She only wants what our family name can do for her.”
“If you only got to know her,” Lukas protested. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s so much different than what you believe her to be. I understand that she was mean to you when we were children, but we’re not children anymore. Can’t you let it go? She’s apologized. You can’t parade around like a grown-up and then be so childish.”
I lifted my chin. “I can’t just let her manipulate my little brother like that. I can’t just stand by while she plays you like a violin.”
“She wasn’t…,” he started, but then smiled. “You really think she means to marry me?”