“Don’t worry,” Parsons said. “They will never be able to come this far.”
Parsons took a large bite of pastry and shoved off the covers to get her dress on. She wanted to get down to the prison quickly, just in case this war business threw things off.
“The general has received a report from the northern base,” the guard told Parsons when she arrived at the prison. “The prisoner and Velsa were spotted there. So you don’t need to question him. Calban doesn’t want you to use this today either,” the guard said, as he handed Parsons the wand. “Just hold it.”
“What am I supposed to do, then?”
“You don’t get it, Miss Belvray? The general always has his reasons for everything he does. I believe you’re playing the Princess of Balance.”
This explained her role in an instant. Or at least, the role Calban might have dreamed for her, although whether she could play it was another matter.
In mythology, the Princess of Balance tamed the Lord of the Wicked. She did so by being kind to him while he was imprisoned by her father, the Lord of the Just. Despite being the embodiment of higher virtues like bravery and honor, the Lord of the Just was not actually “kind”. The lords battled back and forth for a century, and finally, the Lord of the Just had thrown the Lord of the Wicked in a dank dark prison and had him tortured. The little princess snuck food and water to the man who had cursed the land, and in doing so, softened his heart and dealt the final blow against evil. So the story went.
Of course, there was no indication that Dennis was evil. But it was easy to imagine that Calban saw himself as the Lord of the Just—brave and honorable on behalf of all Daramons, but often merciless on a personal level.
“I see,” she murmured. “But I’m hardly a princess.”
“You live in a palace,” the guard said, good-naturedly. “Close enough.”
Parsons’ lips quirked at the idea of her house being a ‘palace’, but she supposed the guard probably lived in an apartment.
He let her into the cell. Dennis was quiet. He looked much worse than yesterday. When the door shut behind her, the vampire looked up with glazed eyes like he didn’t remember her, and then looked away again.
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he said. “I heard that Velsa and Kessily got away…” He laughed dryly.
“So I’m told.”
“So are you just here to gawk?”
“I don’t gawk.” Parsons crossed her arms. She kept her distance, but she was having a hard time keeping her eyes off of him. Maybe she was gawking. For being from another world, he didn’t look that different from Daramons or Miralem except that his ears were round instead of pointed. But there was something rather rugged and pure about him, she thought.
“Then what are you looking at, doll?”
She flinched, as if some spell had been broken. Approaching quickly, she slapped his face. Two years ago she had her old skeleton swapped out for a new one made of metal, and she knew her barely padded fingers had to sting. “What makes you think you can speak to me like that?”
“I don’t see why I can’t. My position can’t get much worse.” His head struck at her like he was trying to bite her, and she jumped back.
He laughed. “Aren’t your body parts replaceable?”
“You surprised me.” She hissed, “I’m trying to help you. The Peacock General would like to set you free, if you behave yourself.”
“Free? What does that mean, to the Peacock General? Can I go back to America? I doubt it.”
“I’m not entirely sure, but it must be better than your present condition.”
He battled against his chains, pulling at them so hard that dust rained down from the ceiling where the chains were mounted. “I need blood,” he growled.
“Did you hear me?” Parsons pressed. “You need to behave yourself.”
“I heard you. I don’t ‘behave’. I’m not six years old.” He glared. “Look, girl. I’m in pain. I’m exhausted. I’m starving. I’ve already been through this with your people before. If you want to help me, then help me. But I’m done talking about it. No one is going to set me free. They want too much to understand my magic.”
She glared back. Once again, he was making her feel uncomfortable, and she didn’t like it. It wasn’t his place to question a world he didn’t really understand. It wasn’t hers either. “We are steered by fate, Mr. Faraday. The general will let you free, if fate decrees it.”
“Ah.” He looked at her like she was crazy. “So far, fate has not been very kind. All I wanted,” he added wearily, “was to see my mother one last time.”
She went cold, a jolt of understand passing through her. She didn’t always have the best instincts about people, but she couldn’t shake the sense that Dennis knew what it was like to be her. Not the precise circumstances, but the loneliness. The focused grief that evolved into dull sorrow.
“Maybe…I could loosen your chains,” she said. The position of his shoulders looked painful, like his joints could dislocate any moment.
“I won’t stop you.”
She went to the wall, where a lever operated to loosen the tension. She had trouble getting it to turn at first, since she wasn’t all that strong and didn’t have much weight to throw into it either, but when she tried pulling on it instead of pushing, it started to creak. The chains were very noisy sliding along. She half-expected the guard to come in and tell her to stop, but it was worth a try.
She allowed him to let his arms down. He sighed faintly with relief.
“Do they keep you like that all night?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“They did this before?”
“They have to chain me up whenever they starve me.”
“I don’t really understand why they’re starving you,” Parsons admitted.
He leaned against the wall, arms limp, and briefly shut his eyes.
“I could try to ask the guard for some blood,” she said. “Maybe he’d let you have some if I asked.” After all, if she was really supposed to be the Princess of Balance, she owed him that much.
He opened one eye. “Just enough,” he murmured, “to keep you alive.”
She had the disconcerting feeling that this was a quote. She imagined Calban giving him a cup of blood and saying that very thing.
Strangely, she could imagine Calban relishing a moment of cruelty, and at the same time, she couldn’t think of him as a villain. He had always been larger than life. When he was benevolent, it was a grand benevolence. It wasn’t surprising to imagine an opposite side of that coin.
She opened the door. “Excuse me…” She caught the guard’s attention.
He came over and locked the door again as she stepped out. “Do you need something?”
“We can’t give him a little blood? He’s already chained up down here all alone. It seems cruel.”
“Follow me.” The guard led her back to the guard post station outside. He unlocked the cabinet and took out a cup of blood.
Her eyes widened.
“We were going to feed him today anyway,” he said. “But the general was hoping you’d volunteer. Just be very, very careful. He will tear you to bits to get this stuff.”
She carefully carried the cup while he led her back to the door. As soon as the door creaked open, Dennis strained against his slackened chains. His mouth was open, biting the air. His fangs seemed even sharper than before.
“You messed with the restraints?” the guard demanded, stopping in his tracks, a vein bulging in his forehead.
“Yes…I mean—he has to drink.”
“No. That’s not how it works. We have to keep his arms and legs restrained; otherwise he could hurt you when you bring the blood within reach. It’s too dangerous. And it’s hard to chain him up again once he’s free.” Grumbling, the guard tried to pull the lever, as Dennis struggled against him.
“I won’t hurt her,” Dennis said, in a low voice. “She’s not edible.”
In his eyes, she saw hatred—for her and everyone else in Nalim Ima.
“This isn’t right,” Parsons said, almost too quietly for the guard to hear.
“It’s for your safety.” He yanked the lever to lock it in place and departed the room once more.
She brought the blood closer to Dennis, and as she got near, he struggled against the chains again, almost involuntarily it seemed. She stopped just out of reach.
“Please,” he growled. “Give it to me. Don’t just look at me like that.”
She would have to feed him herself. She tried to look like this bored her. She put the cup to his lips and tipped it forward carefully so he could drink. It wasn’t much blood. Not a quarter of what his file said he needed.
Even in the poor light, she was close enough to see every vein in his pale skin. Every lash of his eyes. The trace of stubble on his cheeks. In a moment when she wanted to detach herself, she was instead deeply rooted in the present. She wanted to touch him. She wasn’t sure why. She wanted to feel if his skin was cold…if his arms felt soft or hard.
He would probably cringe if she touched him.
How will I tell Els about this?
She would certainly have to tell Els something. It was hard enough to hide from Papa, but impossible to hide things from Els. And Els would keep Parsons’ secrets to her death—but she would also tease Parsons about them.
“Thank you.” He shut his eyes, blood trickling down his chin. He tried to catch the drop with his tongue before it escaped, but it was too late.
She took out a handkerchief. “Hold still.” She wiped it quickly.
“This doesn’t faze you at all,” he said.
She bit her lip and shook her head, although if he saw the gesture, it would have to be out of the corners of his eyes, because he was staring at the floor, rarely looking at her face. “I’m good at hiding what I think.” She drew her hands back, carefully folding the handkerchief so the blood was on the inside.
“Yes. I’d say so,” Dennis said. “I can’t figure you out.”
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” she said.
She left the room, shoving the door shut behind her. The guard was waiting at the end of the corridor to come and lock it.
“Managed it?” He nodded at the door. “This is really no place for a girl unless you have a taste for trouble.”
“I do, actually. I suppose that’s why I’m here and not at the university.”
Chapter Seven
When her work day ended, rather than going home, she headed for Calban’s house at the top of the hill. She needed answers about Dennis.
Her own home was in the same neighborhood, but of course the prime lot on the hilltop belonged to the general. His home was vast and modern, built when Parsons was a child in the style of the American mansions like the homes of the Vanderbilts and the Astors. Gardens surrounded it, and although Parsons was not much for gardening because she hated getting dirty, she didn’t mind an excuse to pass through them on a sunny May day, especially when it had been such a long winter this year. Butterflies danced around her in every direction, almost like they were guiding her to the door.
Irik answered. “I haven’t seen him since last night,” she said. “He must be busy with the consulting the Wodrenarune about the base attack.”
“Thank you,” Parsons said, turning to go.
“Parsons—you could come in.” Irik spread one hand toward the interior of the mansion.
Parsons wasn’t ready to be friends with Irik again. Certainly not when she had so much else to sort out. “I’m sorry, I have a busy night. Maybe sometime, we can meet for cake.” Irik might not know, being from another country, but an invitation for “cake” meant she was off Parsons’ social list. It was too much trouble to make friends with anyone besides Els, anyway. Els could be awfully annoying herself, but Parsons knew exactly what sort of annoying she would be.
She stopped by her own house and picked up her pet snake Antoinette. Shortly after she got her adult body, she had realized that one way to deter unwanted attention was to carry around a pet that most people found unappealing, and besides Royale the rat she had also acquired a snake and a tarantula. One drop of a mild tethering spell on Antoinette’s back and the snake was unable to slither more than a foot away from Parsons and couldn’t get lost.
Then, she went to Els’ house. In recent years, Parsons had realized that the only way to hang out with Els anymore was to surprise her. If she tried to make plans in advance, Els would inevitably show up with an uninvited boy. But if Parsons just dropped by and grabbed her, this could be avoided.
Els had a brief argument with her mother about going anywhere, and slammed the door before smiling brightly at Parsons. “Please tell me we’re going to Wonderland. I could use some fresh air. Maybe it won’t be crowded with the fighting going on to the north.”
“Exactly what I was thinking, if it’s even open.”
It was a relief to be with someone familiar and comfortable. After settling into the automobile, Els stroked Antoinette’s head with a finger and fished out her tin of Swells. “Do you want one or are you still trying to quit?”
“I’m not trying to quit,” Parsons said. “I have quit. I don’t think I was ever addicted. But no, I don’t want one. Life is already tense enough without Papa having that argument with me again.”
“What’s tense about life?”
“The past two days have been so very strange. I’m not supposed to tell anyone about it, so—”
“Of course,” Els said. “I won’t tell anyone all the gritty details you are surely about to tell me.”
“The guys at work were at it again. When I came in, they had all the women’s magazines on top with a note, calling me ‘doll eyes’.”
Els smirked. “I hope you wrote one back. ‘Hey, flesh turds—’”
“I can’t say that.”
“Have I taught you nothing?”
Parsons glared into traffic. Els lived in a busy neighborhood, closer to the city center, and it was always annoying getting over to the ferry from here. “I don’t want to talk like a five-year-old boy. I want to be taken seriously. Let me finish the story.”
Els waved her hand. “Of course.”
“I complained to Calban about it and he gave me a new job. It’s—” She felt a little warm and squirmy just trying to explain it. “The vampire. They caught him and they have him chained up in prison.”
“Chained?”
“Calban asked me to interrogate him, to find out where the prisoner and Velsa went.”
“Was he handsome?”
Parsons shot her a look. “No. He looked terrible, and he’s a human, so his ears are round and he’s all hairy—” She immediately realized she had protested too much and made a terrible error in the process.
“All hairy where?” Els asked, almost cackling.
Parsons tried to look disdainful. “His shirt was unbuttoned,” she said.
“You’re blushing,” Els whispered.
“That’s impossible.”
“You’re blushing…what’s the word? Psychogickle blushing.”
“Psychological,” Parsons said. The concept of psychology had been making the rounds of upper class gossip lately, and talk of dreams was all the rage at certain parties, but Parsons barely understood it and she was pretty sure Els didn’t either. Surely there was no such thing as psychological blushing.
“I don’t think anyone wouldn’t look terrible in prison,” Parsons continued. “I don’t know why Calban asked me to do it. The vampire—Mr. Faraday—told me that we kept him captive for five years and experimented on him…”
“That’s very grim. I mean, how on earth did you respond?”
“I don’t know. It was awkward.” Parsons shook her head. She didn
’t tell Els about feeding him the blood; there was no way that wouldn’t sound sexual once filtered through Els’ dirty mind. “I’m sure he’s still chained up down there all alone in that cold room. I feel like I should do something about it.”
Els was quiet for a moment, smoking. Parsons knew she was dying to pry more about whether Dennis was attractive and whether Parsons had been attracted to him, and she was prepared to be defensive.
“So he’s from the Fallen Lands,” Els said.
“Yes. America.”
“Did you ask him about that?”
“No. The situation was not ideal for conversation.” She added, in a softer voice, “Calban wanted me to torture him.”
“What? That’s crazy. What does he think that’s going to accomplish? I mean—so he was chained like, to the wall?”
Parsons nodded.
“Were you comfortable with this?”
“No.”
“I should say,” Els said. “Working for Calban seems like a terrible idea every time. I know he’s always been nice to your face, but he shouldn’t put you in that position.”
“Calban isn’t nice,” Parsons said. “I think that’s the point. But…this does show that he trusts me with a real job.”
Els raised her eyebrows, but didn’t argue. They would never quite agree on Lord Jherin and Calban. That was true for all Halnari Miralem who lived among Daramons. Everyone knew they didn’t believe that the Wodrenarune knew everything, but they kept their mouths shut.
Wonderland Park was situated on an island that stuck out from the mainland, with all of its lights shining like a beacon. If one of the dragons attacking the north decided to come south, they could easily burn Wonderland Park to a crisp. But Parsons wasn’t afraid.
Unfortunately, it seemed that no one else was afraid either.
Not only was the park open, but hoards of people were waiting for the ferry. The park had only recently been made public. For years, you had to have a pass issued by the Wodrenarune to enter the park, as a favored perk of working for him. But when the existence of the Fallen Lands was made known to everyone, the park began charging admission to people without a pass. It was still expensive and hence very exclusive—but then, it seemed like everyone in Nalim Ima had money pouring in. Industry and manufacturing boomed on the west side of the city and unemployment was almost unknown. All the owners and managers of these new factories and the shops that sold the tidal wave of goods had money, and they all seemed to be here—or their rich, idle wives were, at least.
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