At Death's Door (Wraith's Rebellion Book 1)

by Aya DeAniege

  “We need to take another ride,” Quin said, holding up his keys. “You want to see something nifty first, though?”

  “None of the cool stuff is here, you said.”

  “I can show you this,” Quin said, pulling me away from the room, over to a box in the middle of the room.

  In the box was a little blue ball. The ball was made of glass. It was dark in colour, not the bright blue I was used to seeing in glass. You know that cobalt glass stuff from like the seventies? Or maybe it was the sixties?

  That’s the colour I was used to seeing, but it was darker than that.

  As I approached, the ball raised in the air. I came to a stop and stepped back, watching as the ball sunk back to its velveteen surface.

  Frowning, I approached again and the ball raised into the air once more.

  “There are mortals, and there are humans,” Quin said. “Mortals are everyone. Humans are those who are not stock or descendants. This is a ball that belonged to a young man made into a vampire. He had psychic powers before he was turned. Afterward, he imbued several rocks just like this with the blood of stock.”

  “To identify them?”

  “Yes. If you were a human, there’d be nothing of interest in this area for you.”

  “My being a descendant changes nothing, she said.”

  “Just like vampires coming out changed nothing for you,” Quin said. He set a hand on the acrylic box, and the little ball started spinning slowly. “You are a descendant of Death stock. I’ve never had the privilege, but I’m told it was one of the oldest stocks, released when Death went into hiding.

  “The others brought in any they could, but he controlled breeding very closely. It’s a watered-down stock now. Margaret has had the original. There has been a dozen or so found through history who retain the flavour, but of course, you are completely protected.”

  “And if Death comes about?”

  “Once released, the stock is free. He released them. There is no centuries-old debt that he can claim you owe him. You are protected.”

  “So why bring it up?”

  “To explain why everyone is sniffing after you like you’re a fine steak. You aren’t in danger. They aren’t going to bite you. After your job is done, you may find yourself with so called friends. I would suggest avoiding them.”

  “Are there others?”

  “Like you? Yes. Though none are quite so beautiful.”

  “Flattery will not get you out of this interview, Mr. Fedora.”

  “Mr. Fedora?” Quin laughed. “I knew you had a name for me.”

  I couldn’t help but smile just a little in response.

  “Why did you go back for it?” I asked.

  “You told me to,” Quin said, sounding puzzled suddenly.

  “Are you in the habit of doing whatever mortals tell you to?” I asked.

  I focused on the ball, still spinning slowly in the air.

  Dear, fellow humans. Magic exists.

  That doesn’t mean grandma really was a witch, or that you can teach yourself to teleport. It doesn’t change anything from yesterday, but I just felt like you should know.

  Sometimes rocks can float, and masks can hide demonic figures. You might not be a regular human, but descendant or not, you are still boring as could be.

  I looked over the box, to Quin.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “Only the ones pretty enough to get away with calling me, Mr. Fedora.”

  As I’ll be taking you to see Sasha, let’s talk about her and Lucrecia.

  Sasha stands five-foot-two inches. She is petite. Frankly, she wouldn’t be a hundred pounds sopping wet, holding a hundred pounds. She’s just that small. You look at her and think she’s some kind of pixie.

  I’ve heard her be referred to in such terms before. Pixie, fae, sidhe even.

  When she was first turned, she went by another name. Her name changes often. I will call her Sasha—which is the name she goes by these days—so that you won’t become confused later.

  She also tries to make up for the fact that she was so tiny.

  She found me on the side of the road, knocked me unconscious and dragged me two months travel away. By the time she let me out of the box, I was near rabid. They chained me by the neck to a pillar as she delivered my bottle of blood to the Council who sat in chairs just out of reach of me.

  They use no table, as they don’t ever keep notes. They rarely review written evidence, mainly physical.

  Lucrecia, you’ve seen her. Blonde, blue eyed. Roman in descent she claims, but I don’t think that hair and those eyes can come from the Romans. She does have the nose, however.

  She was the Elder Council, as in she had been on the Council the longest time. She would be replaced next and stood for the traditions of the past while the Younger Council is the same position as Margaret now, to bring them forward.

  Elder Council is presented with the evidence first. She took the bottle and inspected it, tasting some of the blood from inside.

  “Maker’s Blood,” she said, handing the bottle to another of the Council. “How long was your travel?”

  “Two months,” Sasha snapped out. “He bit me.”

  “Did he drink your blood?”

  “No, but he still bit me. Like a beast. His goal was to rip into my flesh. Mortals are whispering about bloodsucker in the night, haunting the road, thanks to him.”

  “The poor thing is starving, is why he bit you, child,” Lucrecia said, approaching me slowly. “Send to my stock, tell them I have a new child.”

  “You don’t have a new child,” Sasha snapped out with such anger that her teeth gnashed as the words came out.

  “Do as I bid you, without protest.”

  Sasha went off grumbling to herself.

  Lucrecia set a hand on my head. I could hear her heartbeat, feel the warm pulse of her blood through her fingers. She showed me no violence, no anger, but instead lifted my face with a finger. I met her eyes, and the fight went out of me.

  “Who made you?”

  “God.”

  “No, child, who made you immortal? Surely you know?”

  I shook my head, not understanding. And then it came to me. Lu was the one who made me.

  Until that point, I hadn’t linked the two. He had bitten me, and things had changed, but I thought I had been simply denied entrance to Heaven and that this was my Hell.

  “He called himself Lu.”

  “Lu,” Lucrecia said with all the hatred of centuries of bad blood. She pulled away from me and turned to the others on the Council. “The old man has made himself another child. Without permission. I told you arresting him to a city would not be enough. House arrest. He walks a thin line, barely obeying the laws. Now this child must pay the price for his insolence.

  “How weaned do you think he is? How wild do you believe that this child would be if we found him when the bottle was empty? Who would wean him?

  “Oh, that’s right. Me. Again.”

  A bucket was set at my side. In it was blood. A full bucket of blood. Full. I would have to take out a caravan to get that much blood. There it was, presented to me without comment.

  I wanted to drink the bucket. I licked my lips but remained where I was. I knew too well the price for touching what was not mine.

  “Drink,” Sasha demanded.

  I hissed at her. The woman reached down and tapped the side of the bucket. When I didn’t immediately react, she turned her full attention to Lucrecia.

  The other woman turned, peering at Sasha, then turning to me.

  “Drink child.”

  “I’ve not earned it.”

  “That was a command, not a suggestion. Drink.”

  I took the bucket in my hands and drank the whole thing. It left me with a bulging belly and a disgusted feeling. My whole body ached for the blood, but I was unable to process it all.

  Lucrecia watched me for several minutes.

  “The weaning has barely begun,” she said, walkin
g off. She returned with the bottle. As she spoke, she tipped the bottle and wet her finger in Lu’s blood, offering it to me. I lapped at it eagerly, trying to get every drop off her flesh. “Half a wine bottle is not going to be enough to do it properly. I could lose half my stock to tame him back to humanity.”

  “Look at those features,” one of the others murmured.

  “Is he worth it, Lucrecia? We can do a mercy, if necessary.”

  I believe that they thought I was a great deal younger than I was. It is possible to kill a baby vampire for the first two days. After that, they would have to contact Death to do the deed.

  Not that he would have responded in that case.

  “Lu’s children all have powers. Do you want him dead before we discover what that is? Before he has a chance to burn Lu’s city to the ground? Mercy is for the halflings and those too young. He was just shy of thirty when he was changed. He had a healthy life. If we kill him, we might as well do the same to a dozen others who had small deformities when they were turned, Lu included.

  “But name me one of our own who has the ability to wean him. I’ll send him to them instead.”

  “There is none,” one of them muttered, annoyed. “But I see your point. A child is a hardship on a vampire, but two? Even if Sasha is almost weaned.”

  By that time, I was becoming sleepy. I hadn’t had a feed like that since my first night. After so long without food, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open.

  They came to a type of payment for Lucrecia.

  A sum of gold would be fined against Lu, once the gold was collected it would be given to Lucrecia. There would be a ‘lift’ of three from each stock to help offset Lucrecia’s losses.

  A lift is when the Council takes stock from vampires. We can choose which of our stock goes to the lift, but it must be paid. Failure to do so will result in the loss of stock.

  Basically, open hunting season on your stock is declared. They can be hunted to the last of them unless you release them before that happens.

  Lucrecia took the Death stock, so your ancestors, and the Patronus stock from the lift, and gifted them to Sasha as her starter stock. So, I never tasted the original. The others were used to feed me almost as soon as they arrived. Lucrecia made me sip the stock, to experience the different flavours. It was challenging for me not to gulp.

  Few children are offered that opportunity. To taste the stocks so early in their lives, but those were events months and even years later.

  That night in the Council Chambers I knew nothing of what they meant. The sun was a few hours away, so Lucrecia took me to her bedroom. I stumbled. She dropped me onto the bed and climbed atop me. Kissing, touching.

  I figured it was time to earn my keep. I was responsive and, when it came time was fully able to perform. Definitely not a difficult task for me.

  Mm, to be with a woman after so long?

  My performance was not spectacular. I performed like Lu might have, for some reason thinking that a woman would enjoy that.

  Laying in the aftermath, Lucrecia made an annoyed, almost disgusted sound.

  “About what I expected. How’s your stomach, child? It’s flattened right out again. Did you want more?”

  “Please,” I groaned.

  “Before I had you brought here, I took a bit of Lu’s blood. I’ve not had anything else to eat. Want to have a full belly?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said, sitting up.

  I ran a hand over her body, hardly believing it was there. Lucrecia reached to the nightstand as I lapped at her nipple. The touch made her stiffen.

  “Curious little one, aren’t you?” she asked.

  She slit her wrist with the knife and brought my lips to the wound with a hand on the back of my head. I lapped and sucked eagerly at the blood. It wasn’t long before the wound healed.

  Lucrecia repeated the process three more times. In total, I might have gotten two cups of liquid from her, but my belly was full, and I felt sated for the first time in ever, near as I could tell.

  As the sun rose that night, I fell asleep in the arms of a beautiful woman, warm, fed, cleaned even.

  Random sex is random.

  You laugh, but I awoke in chains. Chained to the bed. Oh, I know how that goes. So, I was very, very confused when Lucrecia walked in with four beautiful maidens and a carafe of blood. I was fed, and it was explained to me that my sexual skills were lacking.

  The women were there to teach me how to be gentle. I was chained for their safety.

  I had three days of sex and blood. Not just me being ridden for someone else’s pleasure either. I didn’t even ask about the bottle.

  On the fourth day, the blood made me vomit. Lucrecia sent the girls away and cleaned me up.

  No Maker’s Blood for three days?

  She was impressed. I had tried to stretch the blood by skipping some nights. Basically, I had begun the process of weaning myself, but when presented with the blood drank greedily like a baby vamp.

  “Two months without, and then three days without,” she said as Sasha walked into the room. “Bring me an elder. He needs as much food as we can get into him.”

  An hour later an elderly woman was brought in. She wasn’t bent over with age but was still old. Her head was shaved, and she was wearing only a linen shift. Without being told what to do, she laid down on the floor.

  Lucrecia bound her feet. Then she smiled at the woman.

  “I’ve watched you grow from a curious babe to a beautiful woman, and then into a respected elder. I am gladdened that I can grant you this last rite.”

  I don’t think I want to hear this.

  It has happened for centuries. Those who reach a certain age and are no longer capable, or those with terminal illnesses, will ask us for the last rite. If we decide to do it with our own hand, they view it as the final gift. They find peace in it.

  The woman was hoisted by her legs up into the air. Her arms were then bound to the same contraption. Leaving the arms hanging risks blood running into them, and is a waste. We rarely waste the lifeblood of stock.

  Lucrecia moved to a table and picked up a knife. It was long and shiny. Lucrecia is a creature of tradition. The knife has been used for centuries. She re-hones the edge each time, to make certain the blade is sharp.

  As she honed the blade, she spoke.

  Tradition and ritual when raising stock are necessary. It makes them feel more comfortable. They know what is going to happen, they’ve seen it with their own eyes. Private rites are only granted to very respected elders.

  The elderly woman didn’t seem present as Lucrecia spoke. Her eyes almost seemed to glaze over. As if in a cloud of euphoria.

  Lucrecia set a bucket under the elder and then slit her throat from behind. The woman never saw it coming, didn’t feel it either.

  Drugs?

  In a manner of speaking. We’ve had centuries to dabble. A drop of Maker’s Blood under the tongue absorbs like any drug. A bit of venom injected into a vein prevents clotting.

  A drop of a drug and they’re in a cloud as their life drains away.

  She felt absolutely nothing. The sharp blade ensured a quick slice. A skilled hand meant that Lucrecia was able to get through the flesh and with a flick of the knife, took the head off by slipping between two vertebrae.

  The head came off and was set with such delicate precision on a silver platter.

  Gravity did the rest. Lucrecia pulled out a golden ladle, which she used to fill two goblets. I drank greedily from one. She sipped the other.

  “This is your last taste of Maker’s Blood for six months,” she said. “Enjoy it.”

  “Waste of rites,” Sasha said from the doorway. “Infecting her with Lu’s blood like that?”

  “It doesn’t change who she was, or what she did for our line.”

  “She deserved better.”

  Lucrecia sighed heavily. “She may have been your nanny, but you knew this day was coming. I gave her private rites in part so that you wouldn
’t witness it.”

  “She doesn’t smell the way she should.”

  “When was the last time you supped?”

  “Four months, ten days, six hours,” Sasha said. “Before that three months.”

  “You will join him on his weaning. You will not sup for six months.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I have kept your belly full. You have not known his hunger or his pain. You will learn what it is like to have your Maker cast you out. Except, I am not casting you out. Join him. From this point forward you do not go anywhere without him.”

  I had finished my goblet some time ago. I wanted more. Lucrecia came to me and took the goblet, refilling it. I sipped.

  “Four hours until it clots, thanks to the venom,” Lucrecia said, kneeling by the bucket. “Sip it, savour it. My stock almost carries the flavour of berries. But that is more about feed, than blood. The honey undertones are from the blood.

  “This one has been a favourite of mine since she was five. She was bright, intelligent, and tasted of sunshine. Unfortunately, she was barren. Breeding her siblings has resulted in failure to reproduce her taste.

  “With Lu’s blood, the taste is more sunset rather than morning light. It’s a different sort of flavour, but not spoiled in any fashion. As time goes on, you will appreciate the flavour. We don’t taste salt or iron in human blood.”

  I sipped because I had been commanded. To me, it tasted of food and the goblet it was served in. I could taste Sasha’s skin and smell her hair, but the blood in my cup had no distinct flavour to it. It was food, that was all.

  “What do you taste?”

  “Her skin,” I said, my eyes on Sasha.

  The woman glared at me. Every bit of her dared me to try to touch her. Instead, I sipped from the goblet again.

  “It is thick and creamy almost, but I taste nothing in particular.”

  “It should take one hundred years to wean a fledgling. Sasha is fifty years turned. Many of us return to our Makers over the centuries and sup again. It is not required, however.”

  “I don’t want to sleep with him,” Sasha snapped.

  “And you don’t have to,” Lucrecia said. “The child is hard. I’ll have to send for another maiden or two to see to him. He’s in that condition because of you.”