Puppet/Master (The Vale Chronicles Book 1)

by Joel Abernathy

  “It’s not brainwashing,” Arden snapped. “It’s called honor.”

  “Honor,” Vox scoffed. “Right. Because farming living beings and laying waste to everyone who stands in your way, man, woman and child, is so ‘honorable.’”

  “Eric never pretended to be merciful, but he does what it takes to ensure the survival of our kind,” said Arden.

  “‘Our kind?’” Vox challenged. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re not one of them, kid. You weren’t born with fangs and a hole where your soul should be, you were made that way. Forced. Indoctrinated. Twisted.”

  “Maybe that’s how you see it, but it’s not how I feel.”

  “No,” Vox muttered. “I imagine you feel like you only exist to serve Eric. Like he plucked you out of nothingness and made you into something worthy of being used.”

  Arden was struck by how closely the ghoul’s words mirrored his own feelings, but he refused to show or acknowledge it.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Vox said in a knowing tone. “I’ve been in your shoes. I get it. When you’ve been told your whole life that you exist to be someone’s toy, you feel lucky when they pick you off the shelf. It takes time to realize you exist outside of them, and right now, I’m sure that’s the last thing you want.”

  “And you know better?” Arden asked icily.

  The man’s eyes smiled above his hideous mask. “I know I’d rather be a zombie living for myself than a Puppet living for Eric.”

  Before Arden could respond, the microwave let out a shrill beep that made him jolt.

  “At ease,” Vox said, taking the plate out. He slid it across to Arden and sat on the stool on the other side of the counter to watch.

  The scent of the food was generating a mixed response in Arden’s gut. On the one hand, he was repulsed by the idea of going back to such a basic human function as eating, but on the other, he felt like his body was going to start eating itself if he didn’t. He reluctantly took a bite of the crust, surprised when it actually had a flavor other than dust.

  “Good, huh? Worth the trip to the other side.”

  “They don’t have delivery to the Vale?” Arden asked wryly.

  “Nah. The fae are all about fruits and balanced meals,” Vox answered, rolling his eyes. “Think that’s the real reason the elves left.”

  “The elves didn’t leave, they were banished.”

  Vox raised a dark eyebrow. “Is that what they told you?”

  Heavy footsteps in the hall announced that they weren’t alone before Harding came in, pausing warily at the door as he looked at Arden. “He’s out of the box?”

  “You can relax. He’s mortal.” Vox paused, glancing the Puppet up and down. “More or less.”

  Harding didn’t seem comforted, but the allure of pizza proved to be more than he could resist. He sat down next to Vox and looked at the other slice. “You gonna eat that?”

  “Knock yourself out,” Vox said, sliding the plate over to him.

  “I thought you were going to eat,” said Arden. He’d secretly hoped to get a glimpse at what was underneath that mask, but the ghoul hadn’t touched his food.

  “I don’t eat. Harding is just being a smartass,” he said.

  “What do you mean you don’t eat? Ever?” Arden asked in disbelief. He had been surrounded by ghouls all his life, but he realized just how little he’d actually conversed with any of them. They were as functional and silent as the furniture and weapons that filled Eric’s home, and he’d never actually thought about how they sustained themselves.

  “Not human food,” Vox said, as if that much should be obvious. “Ghouls don’t eat, we don’t dream, we don’t piss, and we don’t fuck. We’re like vampires without any of the benefits.”

  “Right,” Arden muttered. Harding was already on his third slice of cold pizza. Evidently, he did enough eating for the both of them.

  “So,” Harding said with a mouthful of crust as he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. “Did Dusk give him the spiel yet?”

  “As much of it as he’s ready for,” Vox answered, propping his chin on his fist. He stared longingly at the beer washing down the larger man’s throat.

  “Where’s our dear leader?”

  “Which one?” Vox asked wryly. “Dusk got called out and Leo… anyone’s guess.”

  Leo? No, it was impossible. It had to be someone else.

  All of a sudden, Arden’s head began to swim and he leaped up from the counter in a panic. His body felt heavy like it had before he’d blacked out, even if this was milder. “Something’s wrong,” he choked, grabbing his chest. He looked accusatorially at Vox. “You poisoned me!”

  “Only the once,” Vox assured him. The concern in his eyes made Arden doubt his first assumption. He stood and walked around the counter, touching Arden’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  Arden shook his head. He tried to walk but wound up staggering forward. If Vox hadn’t caught him, his legs would have given out. The ghoul’s arms were surprisingly strong for someone so lean, and he held Arden up easily. An unwelcome reminder of the new disparity between them. “Easy.”

  “What’s happening to me?” Arden asked hoarsely, his hands resting on the other man’s chest. He looked into Vox’s pale eyes out of fear and desperation and was surprised that there was more warmth in them than Eric had ever shown. “I feel weak.”

  “You are weak,” Vox said gently, stroking a loose strand of white hair behind Arden’s ear. “Your body is adjusting to being human again. You’re probably just tired.”

  Before Arden could protest, Vox lifted him into his arms like he weighed nothing. His face grew hot and for a moment, he thought that was another sign his body was shutting down until he remembered what it felt like to blush. “Put me down.”

  “You sure about that?” Vox challenged, carrying him down the hall. “Didn’t look like you were doing all that well on your own.”

  Arden turned away from him, his arms reluctantly draped around the ghoul’s neck. He had a point.

  “Don’t let him out of your sight,” Harding called after them.

  “You don’t need to tell me how to do my job,” Vox grumbled.

  “What is your job, exactly?” Arden asked.

  Vox looked up at him, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Isn’t it obvious?” His voice was pleasant, if slightly muffled by his mask. “For the moment, it’s babysitting you.”

  Arden scowled as Vox carried him into their room. The ghoul placed him on the bottom bunk and pulled a blanket over him as if he needed to be tucked in. Arden resented the gesture, and everything else, for that matter, but the bed was too soft and cool to complain.

  It had been so long since he’d slept in a real bed. The heavy frame of the bed and the bunk overhead made him feel a little less exposed, but it was still a far cry from the security of his coffin.

  “I can’t sleep like this.”

  “Yes, you can. You’re not a vampire anymore.”

  The words cut into him like daggers, even though Arden could tell they weren’t meant to wound.

  Vox’s gaze softened with pity. “I know it’s a lot, but just try to take it one thing at a time, okay?”

  “I hate this,” Arden murmured, sinking back into the pillows. Every bit of fabric that brushed against him, every breath that filled his lungs, it was all so full of sensation that had been duller as a vampire. Even the light was overwhelming. “I feel everything. I feel like I could break at any moment.”

  “You could,” Vox mused. “I know the feeling well. It’s called mortality.” He swept his hand down Arden’s face and the coolness of his touch was more comforting than Arden wanted to admit.

  “It sucks.”

  Vox chuckled. “Believe it or not, I’m jealous. Some of us would give anything for the chance to feel that way again.”

  His words tightened Arden’s chest in a way that made no more sense than the rest of these human reactions. It didn’t seem like all that long ago that h
e was turned, but the foreignness of every moment told him that was far from the truth. “Why can’t Dusk just use his ‘cure’ on you?”

  The other man looked away. “It doesn’t work like that. Not on ghouls.”

  “Why not?” asked Arden.

  Vox gave him a patient smile with his eyes. Somehow, they were as easy to read as anyone else’s lips. “Chimeras are made to change. It’s in your DNA. We don’t change. Ever.”

  “Oh,” Arden murmured. “Is that why you can’t eat regular food?”

  Vox nodded. He didn’t seem to want to go into it any further, and it was a struggle for Arden to keep his eyes open and his head off the pillow.

  “Don’t fight it,” said Vox. “You need rest.”

  “How do I know I’m not dying?” He hated sounding so weak and terrified, but as much as he hated Vox, too, the man was his only link to before. The only one who knew what he was going through, at least in part.

  “You’re not,” Vox promised. “But if you’re that scared, I’ll stay with you.”

  Arden’s pride made him hesitate, but he finally nodded. Vox climbed into the bed next to him, on top of the covers he’d pulled up over Arden. As drowsiness washed over him like a wave, Arden’s fear of drowning did nothing to keep him from being dragged under. Vox’s presence eased it inexplicably, but he wouldn’t let himself draw closer.

  “If you can’t sleep, why do you have a bed?” he finally asked.

  “I sleep, just not the same way you do,” he answered. “I don’t get tired, and I don’t dream. It’s more like shutting down for a few hours, but sometimes it’s enough just to go through the motions. To remember what it’s like.”

  “You really miss this?” Arden asked in disbelief. He could feel Vox’s breath on the back of his neck, cold as ice.

  “More than anything,” he murmured.

  Arden closed his eyes and started to drift off. When the sensation of falling jarred him awake, he gasped, but Vox’s strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling Arden to his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing the terror making Arden’s heart race. He relaxed in the other man’s embrace, his hand closing around Vox’s wrist to make him stay. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Those words shouldn’t have meant anything. They certainly shouldn’t have been a comfort, but they were. Arden’s eyes fell shut and he gave up on fighting. He hadn’t slept outside his coffin in decades, but as terrifying as the loss of consciousness was in a mortal vessel, Vox’s embrace proved more secure than those satin walls ever were.

  6

  Arden

  Arden dreamed like he never had. Or at least, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d dreamed in vivid color. It was a shame the subject matter was so brutal, because it was almost beautiful.

  He saw Eric. More accurately, Eric saw him and the vampire’s eyes filled with disgust.

  “Look what they’ve done to you,” he murmured, reaching out to touch Arden’s face. He leaned into his Master’s palm, his eyes fluttering shut.

  “I’m sorry, Master. I failed you, but I’ll make it right. You can turn me again…”

  “No,” Eric said, pulling his hand away. “You’re useless to me now.”

  Arden’s heart shattered into a dozen pieces at the sound of those words. “Master…”

  He reached for Eric out of desperation, but the man was already too far away.

  Awakened in a cold sweat, it took Arden a moment to catch his breath and remember where he was. Vox was gone and he was alone. He threw off the covers and went out into the hall. The place was silent, which he thought might have been a blessing in disguise.

  Arden rushed down the hallway and past the kitchen. It, too, was empty, giving him the slightest hope that there might be a way out. Not that he knew how to escape the Vale if that truly was where he was being held, but he’d deal with that when he got to it.

  He reached what seemed like a door to the outside, or at least to a stairwell leading up to it, and to his relief, it opened. When he saw the void on the other side, he froze. Tessellated walls made of crystal seemed to stretch out in all directions, but the angles made no sense. It was impossible to tell where one began and another ended, and the longer he stared, the closer he felt to madness.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Arden gasped and slammed the door shut. When he turned around, the man standing before him looked like he had been there all along. With straight, gleaming black hair that nearly touched his waist and a hard, square jaw, the man was drop dead gorgeous. His skin was a rich ochre and his amber eyes shone with knowing as he looked down at the considerably shorter man before him.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Elan,” he answered. “And you must be Dusk’s new pet.”

  “I’m no one’s pet,” he spat.

  “No? I heard you liked wearing Eric’s leash.”

  Arden grimaced. “That’s different.”

  “Ah, yes,” Elan mused, his tone full of smugness that put Harding to shame. “The bond between sire and child, also known as the rose-tinted lens that makes abuse seem like love.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I should, given that Eric is my half-brother.”

  Arden stared at him, waiting for the joke. “You’re lying.”

  Eric had never mentioned having a brother. Then again, the information Arden knew about his personal life was limited to whatever he needed to know to complete the mission.

  Elan shrugged. “Think what you like.” His gaze traveled down Arden’s face, studying him intently. “Harding wasn’t exaggerating, was he?”

  “About what?” Arden asked nervously.

  Elan’s only answer was a faint, condescending smile.

  “If you’re really his brother, why are you here working for them?” Arden asked. Now that he was looking, he could see the resemblance, but it still seemed impossible.

  “Nosy for a prisoner, aren’t you?”

  Arden frowned. “According to the others, I was rescued.”

  “Of course. My mistake. Dusk is always taking in strays.”

  “If he’s the fae, Harding’s the human and Vox is the ghoul, what does that make you?” he demanded.

  “Thirsty,” Elan answered, looking pointedly at Arden’s neck. “Care to offer yourself? I’m getting awfully tired of Harding’s blood. No flavor.”

  “You’re a vampire?” he asked in disbelief. He was more upset with himself for not being able to recognize it. Humiliated, really. He really was human.

  “Don’t beat yourself up. If humans could sense us, we’d all starve,” Elan said with an inviting wink.

  “I’m not feeding you,” Arden muttered, putting a hand up to block his neck even though he knew better than anyone how little that would do if the vampire decided to attack him. “Go bug Harding.”

  “My,” the vampire purred. He was down the hall one moment and the next, he was right in front of Arden, his finger propped under the smaller man’s chin to force his head up and expose his neck. Arden froze. So this was what being on the other end of it felt like. “Such a big mouth for the newly mortal.”

  Arden swallowed hard, a reflexive response he couldn’t help, but he refused to look away from the intensity of the vampire’s gaze. “Go ahead,” he challenged, intent on calling Elan’s bluff. And if it wasn’t a bluff, he didn’t have much to lose anyway. That haunting dream may have been a bit dramatic, but he knew it wasn’t far off from what the reality would be if he did find a way back to Eric. “Bite me. I’d love to see how that works out for you.”

  Elan held his gaze for a moment that felt like a year, but his lips finally curved into a smile and he pulled his hand away. “I’m only teasing. Unlike my brother, I’d never take something that wasn’t freely offered to me.” His gaze traveled down to Arden’s lips and despite the fact that they were nowhere near touching, his skin tingled with some strange electricity. Was this what he’d felt around
vampires before he became one of them? He couldn’t remember having such a reaction to anyone other than Eric, but that was a different, obsessive kind of infatuation.

  “Of course, if you change your mind and decide you’d like to remember what it’s like on the receiving end of a bite, I’d be happy to oblige,” said Elan. “Your blood smells delicious.”

  Arden glowered. His bravado made it easier to see through his charm. “I’m good,” he said flatly. “Where is Vox?”

  “He had something to take care of and he asked me to keep an eye on you.”

  If that was true, Arden had a bone to pick with the ghoul when he returned. “He couldn’t have gone far. There’s nothing but a hellscape out there.”

  Elan smiled. “I find it charming.”

  “What is that, anyway?” Arden asked, even though he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

  “That would be the Vale.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Alright, it’s the interdimensional waiting room between the Vale and your world,” he answered. “Or did you think it was simply a matter of digging a hole deep enough and popping into a magical city?”

  Arden hesitated. That wasn’t far off from what he’d thought, but he’d never put much focus on it. All he knew was that the Vale was underneath the surface world and magic kept it from being accessed by anyone the fae didn’t approve of. “The rest of you aren’t fae. Why are you allowed here?”

  “This is something like an airport,” he replied. “International territory.”

  “Oh…”

  “Tell me, how is my brother doing?” Elan asked, as if they’d been speaking about him all along. “Is he still grappling for control of the other vampire nations?”

  Arden frowned. “I believe he’s more than busy enough managing Ark. Not that Merinth and Daion would suffer for better leadership.”

  Elan laughed enthusiastically. “Wonderful! And you actually believe it,” he mused, cocking his head. “How charming.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Let’s put it this way,” Elan said in a wickedly sweet tone of voice. “When we were kids, I preferred cats. Eric preferred dogs.”