Puppet/Master (The Vale Chronicles Book 1)

by Joel Abernathy

  Arden

  There was a stillness that felt like death, and Arden had spent enough years on the other side of it to know. There was peace in the silence. The whiteness that encompassed everything and existed as nothing.

  Arden knew this place of everything and nothing. It felt like home. Or rather, it felt like where he belonged.

  He opened his eyes and found himself wrapped in a cocoon of pale blue light that looked like crystal. When he reached out to touch the facets, they stretched like a membrane. The cocoon glowed and warmth washed over him, making it harder to keep his eyes open or even remember how he’d gotten there.

  The memory of Harding lying on the floor was enough to jolt him out of the strange reverie. He pushed hard against the cocoon until it burst and he went tumbling down a crystal slope to a garden of beautiful purple flowers. The same ones from Dusk’s garden. Chrysalus blooms.

  Arden lifted his head and looked around, realizing that he was no longer on the surface. He wasn’t even sure he was in the Vale, for that matter. There was no sky, only crystal for as far as the eye could see, and it was difficult to tell which way was up. Gravity didn’t seem to be as solid in this realm.

  “Little one,” an androgynous voice called from somewhere in the distance. Arden turned around, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He was naked, but it was impossible to feel exposed. Everything here felt safe and right, even if he knew it wasn’t. Even if he knew it wasn’t real.

  “Who are you?” Arden demanded.

  “You know me,” the voice answered, clearer and closer. “You are of me.”

  Arden froze. “The Chrysalus?” he asked doubtfully.

  There was no reply, but Arden knew. He knew that voice better than his own, but he felt himself waking up. Someone was speaking to him. Calling his name.

  “Come back and find me when you’re ready,” the voice urged. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Waiting for what was the question. The world of crystal dissolved and when Arden opened his eyes, he was chained to a bed in what looked like a five-star hotel room. His head spun as he regained consciousness and he realized someone had dressed him carefully in clean, comfortable clothes and placed a bandage on his neck.

  The room wasn’t empty, which he only realized when he heard the sound of breathing. He jolted, lifting his head enough to see the Prince sitting in a chair across from the bed.

  “Good morning,” the elf said pleasantly, crossing one leg over the other. “My apologies for the restraints, but it’s obvious that your time with the Brotherhood took its toll.” He gave Arden a seductive smile. “Can’t have you running back to your kidnappers before your Master gets here, now, can we?”

  “Eric?” Arden’s voice was hoarse, but he couldn’t hide the hope he felt even through the grief over Harding’s death. Ever since he’d been cured, the sheer emotional range he was capable of had been bewildering. Most of all was the ability to feel two conflicting emotions at once.

  “Ah, good. So you haven’t entirely forgotten yourself,” the Prince said, standing to wander over to him. He stroked Arden’s cheek affectionately. “My apologies for not intervening sooner. When my new pet informed me that Eric’s beloved Puppet was on the auction floor, I had to be sure.”

  “Where is he?” Arden demanded. The Prince may have been his rightful rescuer, but he still cared for Vox. If the man had harmed him…

  “I assume you mean the ghoul who was with you?”

  Arden knew the Prince knew what he meant, so he didn’t bother clarifying.

  The elf sighed. “He’s alive, and will remain that way until your Master arrives. From there, it’s up to his discretion.”

  Arden was filled with such relief that he knew there was no room left to doubt that his feelings for Vox were genuine, if nothing else. At least Eric could be reasoned with.

  “What do you want?” Arden demanded.

  The Prince tilted his head and seemed to actually be confused. “What do I want?” he chuckled. “Eric is a dear ally. It’s merely common courtesy, from one monarch to another.”

  His words seemed to be the truth, and Arden told himself he had no reason to be suspicious of the man who had, in fact, saved him from his captors. Even if it didn’t feel like that.

  The Prince was right. Maybe Dusk really had gotten into his head… How else had he lost sight of his goals so easily? God, he was grieving the enemy, and yet knowing it was insane did nothing to stop the pang in his chest every time he thought of Harding.

  “I wonder,” said the Prince. “If I were to untie you, would you try to escape?”

  “Of course not,” Arden muttered.

  The Prince tilted his head and seemed to be weighing his response. “Better not risk it. I’d heard chimeras were deeply emotional creatures, but it seems your ability to grow attached to your captors exceeds my expectations.”

  Arden wanted to argue, but he knew that would only make him look more desperate to escape. He tried not to think about the likelihood that he would have, if not for the promise of seeing Eric.

  Someone knocked on the door and Arden’s heart skipped. He knew then that there was part of him that had never expected to see Eric again. Longing became one with the fear of rejection. The fear that in his current state, Eric would want nothing to do with him.

  The vampire seemed to be alone, but Arden knew that was far from the truth. Even if he were, there were few among the vampires or elves bold enough to challenge one as old and powerful as he.

  The sight of him in the flesh took Arden’s breath away. His angular face and aquiline profile, framed by lush, dark hair tapered down his neck. When those eyes swept across the room and landed on Arden, he felt both seen and exposed, found and lost. Eric’s gaze betrayed nothing of his innermost thoughts, as usual, but when he turned to the Prince, he seemed pleasant enough.

  “Lavien,” he said as the elf approached him. “I came as soon as I received your call. I don’t know how to thank you for reclaiming my pet.”

  “What a terrible lie,” the Prince said, pouting. “I should think after our last meeting you know perfectly well how to thank me.”

  Eric smiled, to Arden’s amazement. He had a low tolerance for games, especially those of the coquettish type, but when he pulled an arm around the Prince’s waist and pulled him in for a passionate kiss, Arden realized there was another side of his Master that he had never seen before.

  Jealousy and confusion rose up like a wave inside of him and when Eric finally broke the kiss, the Prince seemed faint. “My deepest appreciation,” said the vampire. “May I ask why he’s bound?”

  “It seemed like the safest option at the time,” the Prince said, casting a devilish glance in the other man’s direction. “I believe he’s grown fond of his captors.”

  Arden’s face burned with humiliation, but he knew better than to speak out of turn and embarrass Eric. He had enough to answer for as it was.

  “I see.” Eric’s voice was toneless and his face was blank as he studied Arden thoughtfully. There was no familiarity or gentleness in the way he looked at his creation. It was as if he was looking at someone he barely knew, which cut Arden deeper than anything else would have. “I’ll take it from here. My men have already moved the other prisoner.”

  Arden’s chest tightened. That meant Vox was still alive, and for the time being, Eric planned to keep him that way.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” the Prince said, nodding toward Arden on his way out the door. “Until we meet again, chimera.”

  Arden bristled, but his irritation faded to make room for fear and hesitation as Eric approached. The door closed behind the Prince and they were finally alone.

  “Well, well,” Eric said, running his hand along the restraints binding Arden to the bed. “Isn’t this a sight.”

  “Master—”

  Eric raised a hand to silence him. Arden swallowed.

  The vampire studied him for another moment, neither anger nor relief in
his demeanor. Arden wouldn’t know which one to feel until Eric chose somewhere to land. He finally drew his claws and cut through the leather as easily as string, freeing Arden from his bonds.

  The chimera sat up and rubbed his raw flesh, but he didn’t dare move far. “Thank you,” he said, keeping his gaze lowered.

  He could feel Eric’s gaze on him, disapproving and stern as it moved over his body. “When I received word there was a chimera being auctioned, as rare as they are, I never imagined it was you,” he said thoughtfully. “The possibility that you would allow yourself to be returned to such a weak state rather than to die fighting did not occur to me, and I must confess, I am not accustomed to being wrong.”

  Arden’s throat grew too tight to breathe. Shame had a grip on him, choking and squeezing until it felt like it would wring him dry. When Eric’s hand finally came to rest on his cheek, cool and smooth, he allowed the vampire to lift his head. Eric’s eyes were filled with the pity and affection he had kept concealed a moment ago, and Arden knew there was a chance he was only allowing himself to show it so Arden’s guard would be down. Either way, it was not a manipulation he had the power or the desire to resist.

  “My poor Puppet. Look what they’ve done to you.” Eric’s voice rang with concern that was all the more convincing to Arden’s frail and mortal heart. His Master had been impossible to resist when he was a vampire, and now, the obsession he instilled ran so much deeper. He was lost in it. Trapped by it. And yet, he was finally free.

  “I’m sorry,” Arden said, even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. “You can change me back.”

  It sounded absurd when he said it out loud. Of course Eric could change him back. Eric owned him. He could do anything he wanted.

  “Not yet,” Eric said after a moment of contemplation. “You may prove useful in this state, but first, tell me. Are Lavien’s concerns valid?”

  Arden gulped. “No, Master. I did what I had to do in order to escape.”

  It wasn’t entirely a lie. The plan had been to play along with Dusk’s little rehabilitation scheme until he had the chance to escape. So why did it feel like a lie?

  “So you did,” said Eric. Arden couldn’t tell whether he believed him or not, but when he opened his arms expectantly, it didn’t seem to matter. “Come here, my boy.”

  Arden’s legs wobbled as he stepped off the bed, still weak from the effects of the drugs. He could only half-blame his physical state for falling into Eric’s arms, and certainly not the tears that streamed down his face. He was sure the vampire smelled the salt in the air, but while crying had always been forbidden, Eric was in a forgiving mood and said nothing. He wrapped his arms around the chimera and held him close.

  “There, there,” he whispered, his fingertips slipping into Arden’s soft hair. “It’s alright. You’re home now.”

  Arden relaxed against the vampire’s solid chest. Eric’s fingers sank deeper until his nails pierced the flesh on the back of Arden’s neck. The chimera froze and his spine stiffened as those knife-like claws dug in. Eric’s other arm became a trap, keeping him both pinned and upright as his knees gave out. He barely managed to swallow the cry of pain in his throat as Eric dug in until he got a grip on Dusk’s implant and tore it out, letting Arden fall to the floor. The chimera managed to catch himself on his hands and knees with a fresh cry. He clutched the back of his neck to stop the bleeding as Eric studied the capsule-shaped implant between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and casually began to wipe the small device clean, holding it up to the light.

  “A magical tracker,” he mused, studying the faint glow around the electronic device. He crushed it between his fingers and rubbed away the grit left behind. The energy disappeared in a small cloud of dust. “As I assumed.”

  It was a struggle for Arden to breathe through the pain, and the wound was still bleeding profusely. Eric walked over to him and bit into his own wrist. “Drink,” he ordered, holding it out for Arden.

  Arden swallowed the disgust in his throat. It had been so long since he’d fed on blood, and while it was once as natural as bleeding, it turned his stomach. Still, he knew better than to refuse an order. He raised his Master’s wrist to his lips and drank of the hot, dripping blood until he felt the wound on his neck heal over.

  “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood,” Eric said, adjusting his cuff once Arden was finished. “I had half a mind to let you bleed the whole way back to Ark.”

  Arden shivered. He knew if Eric had any idea just how accustomed he’d become to his new nature, his punishment would have been much worse.

  Chapter 18

  Arden

  The trip back to Ark was long and silent, since Eric seemed intent on punishing Arden through a lack of interest. Then again, it was hard to tell the difference between intentional aloofness and the vampire’s usual behavior.

  Arden had never realized just how accustomed he’d grown to being the recipient of attention from the Brotherhood, both positive and negative. Even Elan doted over him, compared to Eric, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that his reception was an icy one.

  “So,” Eric said when their train was mere minutes away from its final stop. Arden would know those pale blue hills blending into the Arkan sky anywhere. “How was your time with my brother?”

  Arden didn’t answer at first. He wasn’t sure what Eric was looking for. “We didn’t speak very much,” he admitted. “He mentioned you.”

  Eric chuckled. “I’m sure he did.”

  They were alike in so many ways, the two vampires. And yet, where there was gentleness behind Elan’s frosty exterior, the exact opposite was true of Eric.

  Once the train reached the station, Eric led him out into the street, still clutching the leash he’d worn to the auction. It was a show of dominance and nothing more. Arden knew well that he would never make it any distance if he attempted to run from the vampire. Eric knew it, too. The fact that he was putting on a show of restraint meant he wanted Arden to be ashamed that it was necessary, and he was.

  He’d never deluded himself into thinking that his homecoming would be victorious, but his ego was the least of his problems. There had been no sign of Vox, but Arden had a sinking feeling the ghoul was locked away in one of the large metal containers the attendants were unloading from the cargo cars.

  If Eric had chosen to spare the ghoul’s life even knowing he was behind the theft of his prized puppet, it was not an act of mercy and Arden was in no position to negotiate with his Master. He knew that any attempts to intervene on Vox’s behalf just then would have the opposite effect.

  Eric’s house felt colder and emptier than he remembered, despite the fact that it was filled with servants and sycophants. Upon Eric’s instruction, he was taken up to his old room and the coffin sitting in the corner seemed to taunt him with memories of what was.

  He had wished for so long to be free of the burden of mortality, but now that a return to his undead state was inevitable, he feared that second death as much as he had ever feared living. It had taken so long to get used to the weight of breathing and the terror of falling asleep each night, but even those things he’d once found horrible now had a familiar comfort to them.

  Maybe it was just their association with the pampered life he’d known as the Brotherhood’s ward. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing right now. What Dusk and Leo had felt when they’d realized the mission was a failure.

  Did they even know of Harding’s death? Part of him was sure that the connection they shared would somehow give them notice, but what if they came looking and fell into Eric’s trap?

  The thought was too unsettling to entertain, and Arden was already overwhelmed by mixed feelings of guilt and longing in all directions. This was what he’d always wanted. To be returned to his Master. To be home. No matter how many times he reminded himself, it just wouldn’t sink in.

  When the door finally opened, the woman on the othe
r side gave his fractured heart some relief. Other than Eric, Lauren had been the only constant in his life since his earliest memory. His handler, his surrogate mother, his confidante. They had never shared any deep conversation, and yet she knew him better than anyone did. Somehow, it felt like he was seeing her for the very first time. He couldn’t remember the last time his heart had warmed at the sight of her, but it might have, long before he was turned. She had been there for those years, too, but they seemed so distant. So empty. Even now, he couldn’t quite recall them.

  “Lauren,” he cried, running over to his handler. She seemed startled when he threw his arms around her, but she returned the embrace, placing a hand on the back of his head.

  “Arden,” she said kindly. Her voice was always kind, but for the first time, he realized just how shallow that affectation truly was. So much fainter than the warmth in Dusk’s voice, even when he was speaking of nothing in particular. Nonetheless, her embrace was a comfort he didn’t feel like he deserved. “I’m so glad you’re back. We were all so worried about you.”

  He looked up at her and realized why she wasn’t breathing. He knew the look in a vampire’s eyes when prey was near. There was no mistaking it. He backed away, realizing the close proximity was probably uncomfortable for her, as old as she was. “Did my Master tell you what happened?”

  “I can see for myself,” she answered, folding her hands in front of her. She looked him over curiously. “I’m told that you will not be turned again anytime soon.”

  Arden gulped. “Did he say why?”

  Lauren shook her head, but the look on her face told him she wouldn’t have told him even if she knew. “I suppose feeding you will be a simpler matter now.”

  His face grew warm. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I hope you weren’t punished because of me.”

  “We all must pay the cost for failure,” she answered carefully. She swept her hair away from her eye and Arden gasped when he saw that it had been sewn shut over what appeared to be an empty socket.