Night of the Shayde

by Lili Zander

  Table of Contents

  Raven

  Saber

  Zeke

  Nero

  About the Author

  Books by Lili Zander

  Night of the Shayde (A Reverse Harem Romance)

  The Alien Vampires of Shayde

  Lili Zander

  Contents

  1. Raven

  2. Saber

  3. Raven

  4. Zeke

  5. Raven

  6. Nero

  7. Raven

  8. Saber

  9. Raven

  10. Zeke

  11. Raven

  12. Nero

  13. Raven

  14. Saber

  15. Raven

  16. Zeke

  17. Raven

  18. Nero

  19. Raven

  20. Saber

  21. Raven

  22. Zeke

  23. Raven

  24. Raven

  25. Saber

  26. Raven

  27. Raven

  28. Nero

  29. Raven

  30. Raven

  31. Zeke

  32. Raven

  About the Author

  Books by Lili Zander

  Copyright © 2018 by Lili Zander.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  I’m exceedingly fortunate to be surrounded by the best team in the world.

  My thanks to all the Night of the Reverse Harem writers for roping me along on this mad journey, Miranda Martin, who made a beautiful, beautiful cover.

  Above all, to Miranda (a different one) who literally dropped everything to edit this story in the last-possible minute. You rock.

  1

  Raven

  I’m having a really great dream. I’m flying a skimmer over the frozen wastes of Boarus 4 in the middle of the night. The sky is clear, and the three moons blaze bright, and my brand-new skimmer purrs like a s’kal cat. A man is sitting in the co-pilot chair, and as I take a tight corner, he’s thrown against me, his hard chest crushing my breasts, his hands on either side of my hips…

  The banging on my pod door jerks me awake. “Open up by order of Overlord Zimmer,” a loud male voice shouts.

  Trouble.

  “Can’t even get laid in my dreams,” I grumble under my breath as I shimmy into a jumpsuit and quickly braid my hair. I press the button, and the thin plasteel door slides open. Sure enough, the man outside my door is Arnie Hento. Bitten human, blood-tax collector for Sector 23, and all-around dickwad.

  “Good night, Director Hento.” I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. His braids are piled up at the top of his head in something that looks like a bush grub’s nest. Even before Arnie Hento was bitten, he’d copied the court styles of Starra slavishly, but this latest get-up—an aggressively striped green and purple jumpsuit that hurts my eyes—is a new level of ridiculousness. Boarus 4 is a dusty mining colony, almost four hundred parsecs away from the Shayde capital of Starra. Fashion isn’t a priority here. Survival is.

  “Raven Peace Unnuk. Your blood-tax is due today.”

  “No, it’s not,” I reply immediately. “The law states that the monthly blood tax is due on SecondDay, not FirstDay.” Also, I don’t have any blood. I’ve still got twelve hours of backbreaking work in the mines before I get paid at dawn.

  He scowls at me. “You think you’re a lawyer, Unnuk? If I were you, I’d watch that attitude. You wouldn’t want anyone reporting you to the Shayde enforcers. Given your family history, you’ll probably get a six-month sentence in the re-education camps. Minimum.”

  Don’t let him goad you, Raven. Don’t think about the camps.

  I clench my hands into fists behind my back and stay silent as he spins on his heel and walks down the hallway to the next pod.

  Then I glance at the time and curse out loud. If the sun sets before I get to work, Overseer Thrip will dock my pay. Today, of all the days, I don’t need any more bad news.

  “Today is the day, isn’t it?” Ana Begić’s whisper is muffled by the sound of pickaxes. “The day your parents were taken?”

  I nod mutely. Fourteen years ago, my parents had been arrested on this day, FirstDay of FourthMonth. According to Ma Kaila, FirstDay of FourthMonth used to be a day of practical jokes on Old Earth, but their arrest had been no laughing matter. They’d swiftly been found guilty of plotting against the Shayde Empire and condemned to death, and I, their only child, was sent to a re-education camp in the middle of the Ice Deserts of Glacis.

  Ten years in the camp, and now four years in the mines. If anything, my burning need to find the person that betrayed them to the Empire and avenge their deaths has just grown with the passage of time.

  “You want to go out after this shift? Grab a drink? There’s a new bar in Sector 24. Drinks are cheap until sun-up. Just half-ounce each.”

  “That is cheap.” Overseer Thrip glances in our direction, and we both bend our heads and turn our attention back to the rocks. Thrip isn’t a bad sort, and I don’t think he particularly cares if we talk to each other as long as we continue to work. But ten years ago, a mine collapsed, killing two hundred humans, and ever since then, every one of the overseers is paranoid that it could happen to them.

  When I’m sure that his gaze is no longer on us, I slide up to her. “I can’t go tonight,” I whisper. “Next week?” Most of the miners are reluctant to form a friendship with someone from the camps, but Ana Begić has always been nice.

  “Of course, Raven.”

  Spaceflight would be almost impossible without boarium, and the only known deposits are located in the thirteen planets of the Courus system. The precious metal is too delicate to be extracted by machine. It’s hard, brutal work in the mines, and the pay is crap, but there’s always a steady stream of O-positive people willing to work here. It beats the alternative. When a human cannot pay the blood tax, they’re tossed into Overlord Zimmer’s dungeons.

  I line up at the end of my shift with the other workers for my pay, Ana right behind me. “Where’s Ingrid?” I ask her, noticing that the tall, blonde girl is missing.

  “You haven’t heard?” Ana’s eyes widen. “She undid her braids for a Shayde, and he bit her. Better, he’s keeping her. He’s set her up in a pod in Sector 7.”

  Whoa. Ingrid becoming a mistress of one of the vampyrs doesn’t surprise me. She was beautiful, after all, tall and Shayde-pale, her hair woven in golden braids that cascaded down her back. But the Shayde don’t often bite humans, especially the O-positive ones. We’re too ordinary for the gift. “He bit her?”

  Ana nods. “She’s delighted, of course.” She sighs. “Do you ever wish you’d get bitten, Raven?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” I ask dryly. I’m lying though. If the Shayde set Ingrid up as his mistress, he’ll feed from her. Too much and Ingrid will become a thrall, a pet possession of her Shayde master, unable to survive without him. When she starts aging, and the Shayde finds a younger replacement, she will wither away and die.

  I might be stuck in the mines, but I’m free.

  The sky is lightening as I walk back to my pod. A cold wind knifes into me, bringing the ice of the frozen wastes with it. I keep my head down and my hood up and lengthen my stride. My skin prickles with nerves. The ou
ter sectors are butted up against the ice deserts of Glacis. Nobody hangs out here if they can help it, especially not this close to daybreak. At night, the looters might be broken up by the Shayde enforcers, but the Shayde will not venture out in full sunlight, and the thugs know it.

  Most of the walk from Sector 20 to Sector 23 is above ground, but there’s a section that goes through a tunnel. Gangs of stray humans have taken to hanging out by the entrance and the exit, ready to ambush the unwary. I can fight—Spirit knows we learned to survive in Glacis—but I’d rather not. Nobody on Boarus 4—not even the gangs—wants to attract the attention of our Shayde masters.

  There’s no one hanging about the entrance. I take a deep breath and tighten my hold on the stick I carry for protection, saying a brief prayer to the Great Spirit in the Sky before plunging into the passage.

  It’s when I reach the exit that I see someone stumble toward me, his gait lurched, as if he’s spent too much time and blood in the taverns. I almost raise my weapon, but then he nears enough that I can see his bruised, swollen face.

  Vampyr.

  Immediately, I drop my stick and fall to my knees, my forehead touching the icy ground. “My Lord Shayde,” I whisper through dry lips. Who has hurt him? The gangs wouldn’t be foolish enough to attack one of the Shayde, would they? Overlord Zimmer has burned entire sectors for far less provocation.

  If the cameras spotted me… if they think I had anything to do with this…

  “Human.” His voice is hoarse and strained, his eyes red-tinged, glittering with madness, but his voice is overlaid with compulsion. “Come here.”

  Everything instinct is telling me to flee, but I’m not strong enough to fight the compulsion and not foolish enough to try. My pulse racing, I approach the stranger. Something is wrong. His clothing is ragged, and he smells like piss and sweat. He’s bleeding from several open wounds. He looks on the verge of passing out. This isn’t the result of too much drinking; vampyrs aren’t affected by alcohol the way humans are.

  “Yessss. Stay.” He wraps one hand around my neck, drawing me closer, and my mouth goes dry. Great Spirit in the Sky, he means to bite me, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  His fangs elongate. I gasp as they sink into my throat, hot fire filling my body as the Shayde takes blood from me. My vision goes blurry, and my head spins. “Good,” the Shayde whispers. “Now drink from me.” I watch, limp and placid, as he brings up his bleeding wrist to my lips. “Drink,” he repeats, this time with compulsion. Obediently, I open my mouth and allow the warm blood to pour down my throat.

  He makes me drink at least a pint before he’s satisfied. Then he looks at me. “They will hunt you now,” he says, his voice clear for the first time. “If they find out you drank from me, they will kill you. Don’t let that happen, human.”

  His words should alarm me, but the bite has made me lazy, languid. My body feels boneless, satiated. “Your species knows how to survive,” he continues harshly. “Do that now. Run fast and run hard.” He pulls me close once again. “You will not thank me for this gift, but it is the only way,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. “Get to Starra. Find Ivar Karlsson. He will protect you.”

  He tilts his head to one side, and his eyes fill with alarm. “They’re here,” he says tensely. “Run. I’ll buy you safe passage.”

  He pushes me away from him and takes off toward the ice deserts, running due west. No, I want to scream after him. Nobody can survive Glacis, not even a Shayde, and the west is especially dangerous. To go west is to die. But before I can chase him and pull him back to safety, I hear the thump-thump-thump of the choppers.

  The enforcers are here.

  I draw back into the tunnel. I should hide, but something compels me to stay where I am and watch.

  Three sleek spacecrafts approach from the inner city. I see the vampyr running as fast as he can, but the ice deserts are treacherous, and he slips and falls. Before he can scramble to his feet, the choppers are firing their weapons.

  The first brilliant blue ray grazes his arm, burning it away.

  The second leaves a hole in his chest.

  The third turns him to ash.

  I want to turn away. Bile rises in my throat, and tears prickle at my eyelids. My stomach churns, and I retch violently, but I force myself to stay where I am. To watch. To bear witness and to honor his death.

  Sing your death song, vampyr. Die like a hero going home.

  2

  Saber

  Starra, the world of eternal dusk, is a cesspool of intrigue. I rarely set foot in the capital, but this time, I have no choice. When Harek Levitan summons you for a mission, you show up. Or else.

  “Captain Hafsson.” Jarl Harek leans back in his chair and surveys me with cold black eyes. “Still proud, even after the disaster that was Rothis.”

  I expected this taunt. Rothis was indeed a clusterfuck—five Shayde dead, an entire convoy of supplies lost—but I’m willing to wager my last pint that the intelligence failure that led to our rout came directly from Levitan. The Jarl likes to pull his strings and have us dance around like marionettes.

  Unfortunately, my teammate Nero isn’t quite as good at concealing his emotions as I am. He stiffens in outrage and almost opens his mouth to say something in our defense, before a glance from me shuts him up.

  Levitan smiles coolly, noting the interaction. “If I had a choice, I’d select someone else for this next assignment, not the three of you.”

  The third member of my team is Zeke Ulrich. Zeke’s always got a ready smile on his face and is near impossible to ruffle. He’s not smiling now, but he’s still calm. He leans forward. “What would you like us to do, Jarl Harek?”

  “This.” The vid on his wall powers to life, and I see a man stumble toward a human woman. The sky is light, and there’s no one else in sight as he approaches her. He says something, and she walks toward him, fighting it with every step. Her face is hidden by her thick cloak, but I don’t have to see it to know he’s using compulsion.

  I continue to watch as he bites her, but then, something seems to alarm him. As soon as he’s done with the woman, he runs toward the open fields.

  Levitan pauses the vid. “This was taken on Boarus 4,” he says. “The man is Ottar Thistle. He is a known traitor, an enemy of the Shayde Empire. He used to be a Captain before he was stripped of his rank and sentenced to prison.”

  “What did he do?” Zeke asks, as curious as ever.

  “That’s irrelevant to our discussion,” the Jarl snaps. “Thistle was killed shortly after this scene by the local enforcers. Unfortunately, the fools didn’t have the good sense to arrest the woman.” His voice is icy, and I have a brief moment of sympathy for those poor suckers. Levitan doesn’t tolerate fools well. They’re probably already dead for this failure. “Ottar Thistle talked to the human. I want to know what he said. Your assignment is to find her and bring her in. A shuttle leaves for Boarus 4 in a few hours.” He levels another cold glare at me. “Succeed in this, Captain Hafsson, and your mistakes in Rothis will be forgotten, and you will be promoted.”

  I trust Levitan about as much as I trust a blue horntail. Not at all.

  But I’ve been part of the enforcers for fifteen years. They’re my family. My team. My failure in Rothis hangs over me like a cloud, and if I mess up another assignment, I’ll be kicked out of the only place I’ve ever belonged.

  I get to my feet. “You can count on me, Jarl Harek.”

  3

  Raven

  Gotta be smart.

  There are no cameras in the tunnel. I stay where I am for almost thirty minutes, trembling as the bite works its way through my system, wondering if the enforcers are going to come for me, trying to decide what to do. Once the first flush of fear passes, the training I received in the re-education camps takes over.

  My hood was up the entire time. The cameras will see a Shayde biting a human, but there’s nothing that’ll lead them to my door.

  Bit
the Shayde can tell when someone’s been bitten.

  Yes, but will the Overlord bother to search for me? Whatever the vampyr did, he’s dead now. Zimmer might consider the matter closed, especially now. The Night of the Shayde starts on the FifthDay of FourthMonth. It’s rumoured that some very important members of the Empire will be attending. The entire city has been in non-stop prep mode for months.

  Run, the vampyr had said.

  But already, the stinging at my neck is subsiding. There’s no reason to flee. There’s no crime in being bitten.

  Still, I take off my cloak and toss it in the trashcan. I wind my scarf around my neck to conceal the bite and wait until four women enter the tunnel. “Can I walk with you?” I ask. “The gangs…”

  I don’t need to say more. This close to sun-up, there’s safety in numbers. “Of course, sister,” one of them says. “Fall in.”

  Concealed among them, I make my way home.

  “The first mention of the Shayde is in the twenty-fifth century. Who can tell me where?”

  Ma Kaila runs an illegal history class in her home. I’ve been attending it for the last four years, ever since I reached the age of majority and left the re-education camps. At the start, it had been a small act of defiance, a way to prove that I could still think for myself, that I was still my parents’ daughter. I hadn’t expected to find myself fascinated.