My rudimentary vampire education was rough-going. Often, I felt as if I were trapped under an avalanche of outdated textbooks that had all been proven at least half-false. Sonja helped weed out the junk and pointed me toward volumes with fresher facts once she tired of answering my questions herself.
After my shower, I left my dirty fatigues in the hamper inside the wash room. A few of the harem staff washed the cadet clothing and did basic housecleaning duties around the base. Each of the human donors employed at the bat cave had some sort of part-time job closely linked to their blood work. Some of them were baristas in a terminal café owned by House Lilith, which supplied the human, half-sired, and wolf guests on base with their meals. Some worked in security or baggage, transporting luggage trailers back and forth across the runway. They served as the base’s eyes and ears topside.
It was all very and simple and efficient, requiring minimal staff in and out of the base or airport. And there wasn’t a lot of fancy technology or structural maintenance to fuss over—not with concrete walls and no Wi-Fi to speak of. There was one camera hardwired into the elevator, and the feed went to a single monitor just inside the tunnel. It was manned by a vampire and a couple harem donors, and it had to be the easiest job on base.
On my rougher days of training, when Mic and Blair were extra harassy or I was extra lonely, I wondered how much that easy job paid. I asked myself how much would really be enough to give it all up. How long would it take before the mindless, thankless monotony of it ate me alive? Could it be worth it?
The few minutes I shared with Mandy and Collins helped keep my spirits afloat. I enjoyed my time with Natalie, too, but our friendship was stunted by our working relationship. We both knew I’d be leaving the bat cave in a couple months, and she’d be staying several months longer before going off to college. That was the arrangement.
We all understood how this worked. But I had to keep reminding myself that she wasn’t mine. She wasn’t a member of my blood harem. I wouldn’t be taking her with me when I left. Which meant I would be resigned to drinking blood out of a paper cup again, especially if I ended things with Vin the way I planned to.
I had to hope that joining Blood Vice, and finally being accepted into the fold of the community, would grant me better insight and resources. Maybe there was a bulletin board in Roman’s field office—the office I expected to be hired at in St. Louis—that occasionally had flyers with those little tear-off phone numbers for human donors looking to join an exclusive harem. Maybe one of my new colleges would know a guy. Who knew?
Sonja had also given me a quick lowdown on the Who’s Who of supernatural society. A little vamp pop culture preview—the famous artists and musicians of the underground as well as the richest and most elite households. While entertaining, I somehow doubted I’d cross paths with any of those affluent vamps in Blood Vice.
Most of the fancy pants houses were headed up by fat bats that ran some company or another. House Hanson was known for their network security software engineers, the same way House Starling was known for their doctors. And House Novak was, of all things, known for their haute couture. They made sure the fancy vamps were always dressed to kill.
Mic just didn’t have what it took to be a true fashionista. His hateful face was probably pretty enough when he was sleeping—and Sonja mentioned that he’d botched a few cologne commercials before finally being shipped off to join Blood Vice. I guessed it was easy to torment me when he knew I wouldn’t have all of this juicy dirt on him as a vampling. I hadn’t sprung it on him yet, but I would eventually. I was just waiting for the right moment. I’d only have the element of surprise once. It needed to count.
I also learned a bit about Vanessa. I tried not to seem too interested when Sonja spoke about House Sorano, hoping my curiosity struck the right balance between wanting to learn and being a busybody. And hoping my jealousy wasn’t too obvious. I had no right to be bitter, but I also couldn’t control my gut reactions.
Lord Sorano, Faye’s sire and Vanessa’s grandsire, owned Sorano Munitions, the company responsible for designing and manufacturing Blood Vice’s girly-colored Silver Wolfsbane ammo. Many of House Sorano’s scions went into Blood Vice and quickly climbed the ranks. Faye had become the head sergeant over the vampire training program even before siring Vanessa.
Roman’s potential sire had spent five years as a member of Faye’s harem on base before the sergeant was granted permission to half-sire her. Then she’d spent another twenty years serving alongside Faye on base before being fully turned, and another thirty before being transferred to a Blood Vice field office. She’d spent over fifty years in a hellhole I was wondering if I’d last three months in. Maybe it wasn’t this exact hellhole, but I somehow doubted the previous bat cave had been any swankier than the upgraded one under the airport.
I was waiting for Sonja to spill some real dirt, but everything she shared about Vanessa just made me feel either sorry for her or even more inferior than I had before. And it made the femme fatale vamp’s super dry, super serious personality more understandable, too. Jealously, sympathy, and guilt were complicated enough on their own, but put them in a blender? Ugh.
Regardless of my emotional turmoil, talking with Sonja made me feel as if there might be some relatively normal future in store for me. Even if only one percent of vampires were like her and the rest were Mics and Blairs, I’d survive. I might even learn to enjoy my new life. So far, it had felt more like survival. But while I appreciated Sonja’s earnest sharing, I saved the more embarrassing blood donor relationship questions for Natalie. She could be more objective and humble about those things, since it was all so new to her, too. With Sonja, it was easier to confess not knowing a new person’s backstory than it was to admit not knowing how my own damn body chemistry worked.
The harem was quiet when I arrived. My wet hair dripped on the rug that sprawled through the hallway Natalie’s room was located off of. The other cadets would be there soon, too, but I rarely bumped into them. We stayed in our respective donors’ rooms. I’d spotted Kai in the foyer once, but never Sorano. I wondered if she kept her harem elsewhere or maybe waited until we were all in Kai’s class.
A few of the bedroom doors were propped open, spilling conversation and music into the hallway. No radio or television—just battery powered CD players or iPods that the donors probably charged up top during their day jobs. The BATC was frugal with their budget, and other than basic lighting, a well pump, and the golf cart charging dock, they didn’t spend much on utilities. It was a real Stone Age setup around here.
I picked out Natalie’s door, decorated with the glittery outline of a raven, and knocked. I wasn’t prepared for her melodramatic greeting.
“Tom Petty’s dead,” she wailed, thick mascara streaking down her face. “His heart gave out, and now the Heartbreakers are finished, and I’m heartbroken.”
“Oh, honey.” I’d barely opened my arms before she fell into me, sobbing hysterically.
My questions about sharing lifeblood could wait. I wasn’t even sure I should be feeding on her in this condition. I heard Mic’s obnoxious laugh filter down the hallway from the foyer and gently nudged Natalie back into her room, closing the door behind us. Breakdown crooned softly from the CD player.
“Last year was dark enough with the loss of Snape and the Goblin King.” She hiccupped and rubbed her wet cheek against my sleeve. I cringed, wondering how much makeup she was leaving behind. “There’s going to be a vampire memorial walk down Ventura Boulevard—well.” She rolled her eyes as she pulled away from me and sniffled. “Not with real vampires, obviously.”
“Wouldn’t that be a sight.” I gave her a small smile. “Do you want me to see if Sampson would be willing to trade shifts with you?”
“No, no, no.” She shook her head. “I think I could use the endorphins right now anyway.”
“Are you sure?” The idea of snacking on a crying girl seemed a little too…cheesy B horror film for my taste.
I snuggled in next to her as she lifted her wrist to my mouth. Thanks to the base harem donors, I was getting more comfortable with the fang-to-flesh feeding. It was no longer a blundering endeavor that I begrudgingly endured. I enjoyed myself a lot of the time, and I was beginning to find some semblance of separation in the act—discerning the different kinds of intimacy that Stella had mentioned.
My fangs settled over Natalie’s wrist, and I gently pressed down until her flesh opened. Her breath shuddered as my mouth suctioned around the new lesions. I’d gotten better at this part of the process, too, causing less damage and pain. I used my tongue and fingers on the veins in her arm to stimulate blood flow. I could have just as easily bitten down harder to get things moving along, but that method was for brutes like Mic. His surrogate donors were counting down the days until they’d be free of him the same way I was.
“What’s your favorite Petty song?” Natalie asked as I doctored her wrist afterward.
“Learning to Fly.” Story of my life, I thought with a soft snort.
She leaned across the bed and clicked a button on her player until she found it. Then she lay back on the bedspread, her tangle of colorful hair splaying out in a halo around the one side of her head. She was wearing her ratty jean vest today, with a faded, Heartbreakers tour tee shirt underneath.
“Is that the real deal?” I asked, leaning back on one elbow.
She nodded. “From the eighties. One of my former patrons gave it to me.”
I bristled at the thought of another vampire feeding on Natalie, but I didn’t say anything. Stupid, useless emotions. I felt ridiculous for having them. No one flipped out over their hairstylist having other clients, or their gynecologist seeing other patients. I wondered how long it would take before I stopped feeling like everyone I bit was mine.
Natalie and I lay on her bed, silently listening to the best of Tom while I played with her hair, separating and braiding each color. When it was time for me to leave for Kai’s law class, she stood to give me a hug.
“Will you stop by to see me again after your feeding with Sampson later?” she asked.
“Sure.” I squeezed her, breathing in the smell of her bubblegum-scented shampoo. Two months.
As I headed down the hallway, I wondered what the chances were of convincing her to go to college in St. Louis. I had a feeling she and Mandy would get along just fine. Though, Mandy probably wouldn’t be thrilled about having to share a room again.
The daydream was farfetched, but it brought a smile to my lips.
* * * * *
Vampire law was every bit the snooze fest human law had been. The classroom consisted of two long, concrete tables with matching benches set before a smaller table that served as Kai’s desk. He at least had a cushy looking chair to sit in. The rest of us dealt with aching tailbones that persisted throughout combat training most days.
Today, we were covering the vampiric legal system. It was familiar content that dragged at my eyelids, especially as Kai’s smooth, deep voice read from the course textbook.
“Like with human law, vampiric law works on the notion that one is innocent until proven guilty. But compared to the human court system, vampiric court is simple and concise. Punishments are more severe, but due to our extended lifespans, crime tends to be more severe as well. Undead offenders are emboldened by their bloodlust. This is why scion creation is so heavily regulated.”
Mic snorted. “And why sireless vamplings are usually put down like stray dogs.”
Kai glared at him even as he nodded. “If they are unregistered and have no one to attest to their endurance and discipline.” His eyes were kinder when they found me. “Though the rare few who are pardoned often thrive and work vigilantly to overcome their handicap.”
My face warmed at the insinuation that I was somehow less capable than the fashion police reject who hadn’t matured past his days as a schoolyard bully.
Kai turned a page and went on. “Since many households are run through trusts established via human channels and pay taxes as such, it is imperative that vampiric tax be kept as minimal as possible. Punishment methods for offenders are designed with this in mind. Sentencing costs undead taxpayers very little, and the public service rulings more than make up for the expense involved with the more severe verdicts of execution and, the maximum extent of the law, coffin-locking.”
“Wait.” I didn’t care how ignorant I would look to the others. I had to ask. “So it’s public service, death, then coffin-locking? That’s the order of severity?”
“Here we go.” Blair huffed and tossed her fiery ponytail over her shoulder before glaring at me. “Don’t worry, green fang. We all get to hang out in a coffin for three days before training is complete. You’ll understand why then.”
My jaw unhinged. Three days? I was expected to go three days without feeding?
Kai cleared his throat. “Let’s move on. We have a lot more to cover.”
I blinked around the room, seeing if anyone else was as alarmed by the news as I was. Emma frowned at me before turning her attention up to the front of the classroom. No one else seemed riled in the slightest. Had their sires prepared them for this? Had I somehow missed it in Roman’s notes? Could I even consider doing something that dumb and dangerous?
Kai resumed the lesson despite my obvious distress. “The categories of crime addressed by vampiric law are divided into three categories: violation of the blood, violation of the peace, and violation of the house. These correlate closely with the three forms of punishment. Violations of the blood, which are most often accidental harem deaths at the hands of untrained vamplings, result in a public service sentencing where the vampling can be more closely supervised until their bloodlust is under control.”
I remembered when Roman had caught up with me after I’d taken a bite out of a creep trying to carjack me in East St. Louis. He’d mentioned something about indentured service being a possible punishment—if he’d followed through and arrested me as he should have.
Kai continued. “Violations of the peace are more serious, though they can and do often overlap with blood violations. They occur when a vampire’s actions risk exposing our kind to humans as a whole, even in an unintentional way. Posting a video of you feeding on social media, for instance, would most likely result in a death sentence.”
“That seems a little extreme,” I injected, finally coming out of my stupor at learning I’d soon be getting a three-day coffin nap. “People make mistakes. They’re human.”
“We were human,” Blair said, giving me another of her annoyed glares. “Now we’re vampires, and as such, we have a responsibility to keep the peace through secrecy.”
“Yes.” Kai nodded, pleased with her reply. “That’s an excellent way to look at it. A human doing something ignorant for the world to see does not put their species in danger the same way a vampire’s actions can. And statistically speaking, when a punishment is more severe, the crime is less frequent.”
The corners of my mouth sagged, but I didn’t say anything more on the subject. Blair wasn’t the only one shooting daggers at me now. If I couldn’t keep quiet long enough for Kai to get through the lesson, we were going to end up running over. And then Sergeant Sorano would push us extra hard through combat training, possibly letting it eat into our second harem timeslot.
“Last one,” Kai said. “Violations of the house. When a vampire’s crime is against another vampire, namely against a noble or royal household. This crime is dealt the most severe punishment of being coffin-locked, a fate worse than death”—he raised both eyebrows at me, as if in challenge, but I didn’t interrupt this time—“because it c
an last for decades, centuries even, if the crime is serious enough. These crimes range anywhere from a verbal insult at a house master to murder. The only way a vampire can escape a coffin-lock sentence is if the accuser challenges them to a blood duel—”
“They still do those?” Sonja interrupted this time, saving me from having to myself. Of course, I would have rather she ask what the hell a blood duel was in the first place.
Kai grimaced and cocked his head. “They’re rare these days, but the law remains on the books.” When he noticed my confusion, he added, “Like a wild west gun duel, blood duels are to the death. The challenger risks dying themselves, of course, but they also stand to gain a more immediate and permanent retribution for whatever slight they’ve incurred.”
“Who would be stupid enough to accept a challenge like that rather than face a fair trial?” I asked.
Mic snorted. “You really don’t know anything, do you? Blood duels can’t be refused.”
Kai gave me a grim nod.
“What kind of fucked up law is that?” I glared at both of them.
My outburst changed the atmosphere immediately. The fact that I had been human more recently than anyone else in the room—several decades more recently—was so painfully obvious. Mic’s jab that I had no business training with seasoned scions came back to me, and heat boiled under my skin.
Kai closed the book on his desk and folded his arms on top of it. His dark eyes met mine with thoughtful consideration, if a little malice. “While I’d love to dissect every last law that you don’t agree with, Ms. Skye, we simply don’t have that kind of time to waste in my classroom. To help bring you up to speed, your harem time will be cut in half for the next week so you can lend a hand in the records department. Perhaps the history within those stacks will give you a better appreciation for the reasons behind our laws.”
I broke eye contact with him and scowled at my desk, refusing to acknowledge Mic’s and Blair’s snarky chortling. The harem was the only thing I actually enjoyed about this godforsaken place.
Blood in the Water (Blood Vice Book 3) Page 8