by K J Sutton
“Get it out of my fucking sight,” he says to the guards.
It. The word sends my world tilting. In a twisted moment of déjà vu—was it only a few hours ago my mother walked away from me?—the king leaves. That’s what I am to him now. Human. No, worse, a halfling. Even the word is dirty.
Father reaches the threshold and waits for his security team to give the all-clear. I know that once he leaves, I will never see him again, and my fate will harden to concrete.
“Father, please,” I cry.
Gasps sound throughout the room—never has a Lavender laid eyes upon the king, much less addressed him directly.
Father doesn’t turn around. Now, like my mother, he can’t even bear to look at me. “You’re lucky I’m not putting you on the wall,” he murmurs.
Horror trickles through my veins like ice.
The wall. It encircles the entirety of New Ve, and in certain parts, where income is low and crime more rampant, its surface is adorned with corpses. Slaves who displeased their masters, criminals who were put to death, and the Lavenders. It’s not even considered an offense to kill one.
This time, when the Vampire King walks away, I remain silent. Once he’s truly gone, the rest of the room empties quickly. As everyone leaves, my eyes land on Gabriela standing near the door, her gaze cast downward. My composure cracks and I fight the urge to run into her arms.
“Good luck,” someone says. Startled, my gaze snaps to Valerie’s hard, lovely face.
We’ve never been close, but I admire her. She doesn’t take part in the inevitable drama or vicious gossip, choosing instead to study war strategy and spend hours at the royal shooting gallery. She also treats her feeders kindly.
I’m so surprised by her kindness now that by the time I think to respond, she’s already through the door and gone. I’m never going to see her again.
As a wave of grief crashes over me, two humans from the security team come in. Raphael and Mei Lien. I’ve known them both for years. Last month, I brought Mei Lien a cake for her birthday, made from scratch.
Neither of them say a word, but they don’t need to—we all know they’re here to remove me from the mansion grounds. My eyes flit over their faces, hard and devoid of emotion. They’ve learned to remain expressionless, though they usually break this rule around me, offering winks or smiles when no one is looking.
But now? I may as well be just another monster, for how they’re avoiding my gaze.
“Am I allowed to take anything?” I ask, my voice hollow. I don’t know who I’m asking, exactly. It’s strange to be asking humans permission for anything.
It feels like the air freezes inside my lungs when I remember that I’m part human, too. Thank the blood I was never cruel to them. I once witnessed Henry removing a slave’s limbs like he was pulling off the wings of a butterfly. To my everlasting shame, I was too terrified to intervene.
Which is why other slaves may take revenge on me, anyway. I’m a vulnerable target. An easy way to strike out at the vampires who’ve hurt them for decades. No, longer, because humans were our prey long before 1992, when subspecies came out of the shadows and announced themselves to the human population.
After another moment of stilted silence, Gabriela is the one to respond. She nods once, her full lips pursed. “Quickly. Keep it out of sight, mija.”
A strange panic seizes me. I snatch up the box Alexei gave me, shoving it into my stretchy waistband. Not for the letter within, I tell myself, but for the human hands that made it. I also have enough sense to take my phone.
Just as I move toward Gabriela again, I realize I’m still in the silk pajamas. I’m never coming back here—I’ll need real clothes. Taking advantage of the humans’ uncertainty, I hurry to the closet and grab everything in a rush. Jeans, socks, a long-sleeved shirt, and a sweater over this that reads NEW VE UNIVERSITY across the chest. Cain’s, of course, as Father only encourages education after the Awakening—and now that I’m a Lavender, I’ll never be able to attend. I’m in such a hurry that I just yank the clothes on over my pajamas.
Once again, I hesitate. My mind races in a thousand directions, one of which is the day ahead. There are so many unknowns. Where will I stay? How will I survive? Panic flutters in my throat, threatening to bring up all the blood I drank at the club.
Just as Gabriela opens her mouth, likely to urge me away, I rush back to the table. I half-expect my purse to be gone. But there it is, resting on the marble surface, still sticky from the blood cocktail Cain spilled all over us both. I have no idea how much is actually in it, but I’ve always treated money like used tissue or crumpled receipts—disposable. Now, I wish I’d been more cautious. I rummage through it, snatching up any coins I find. The Vampire King’s hard face gleams on the silvery surface of a dollar just before I shove it deep into my pocket.
Then, trying to hide how my mouth is trembling, I return to Gabriela’s side. A wordless communication passes between the three humans before, one by one, we file out of what used to be my bedroom. None of us says a word, and a moment later, we’re in the shadowed hallway, where everything emanates menace—even the furniture. My entire body is shaking now. Is this what going into shock feels like? There’s a loud ringing—
A cold hand clamps around my wrist and yanks me back. I don’t have a chance to react before the vampire moves in a blur and another hand covers my mouth. The scream dies in my throat when I recognize the scent permeating this end of the hall, a smell I’ve always imagined as crushed flowers. Mother.
Once I go still, she releases her hold, and I face her. I have so many questions that the weight of them crushes my tongue. But when her shadowed face stares down into mine, I can’t find the courage to ask them. Even now, after how far Cassandra Travesty has fallen, she still makes me feel small.
“It was not you I hated,” she whispers fiercely, her titian gaze darting around us, abrupt as the movements of a fly. She’s not going to let them find her, then. She’s going to run.
Hope and desperation battle in my chest. I grapple for her hand, saying, “Mother, wherever you’re going, please take me with—”
“It was myself,” she rushes on, talking over me as though I haven’t made a sound. “I knew this day would come. I didn’t have the strength to kill you, but I also didn’t know how to prepare you for it. How to tell a child that she had been born to die. Now I’ve just damned us both.”
“Then help me,” I blurt, reaching for her, but she’s already turning away.
“Tell your brothers and sisters I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Mother!” I hiss desperately. Gabriela is coming toward us. Her footsteps echo in my eardrums. “You owe me this! Please!”
At the end of the hall, my mother glances back, just once. Then she’s gone.
Less than a second later, Gabriela’s warm hand touches my arm. The smell of her rose-scented shampoo drifts past. “I’m sorry, but there’s no time,” she whispers. “If the king changes his mind or comes back and sees you haven’t left yet…”
I nod, blinking fast to hold the tears at bay. Her hand slides down and takes mine. She gives me one more second to gather my composure, and then Gabriela and I hurry silently down the hall and into a stairwell only used by staff. My footsteps make a clattering sound against the metal steps, echoing in the confined space.
Gabriela moves faster than I ever knew her capable, and within a minute, we’re bursting through a side door and the smell of freshly mowed grass assaults my senses. It’s raining again. Or maybe it never stopped. Through the downpour, I see that a car is already waiting. No more limousines for me—this is the vehicle I’ve seen our gardener get into. Fat drops pound against its roof with such ferocity they sound like gunshots.
I rush to get into the backseat, wary of making anyone wait on me. When it occurs to me that I don’t hear Gabriela’s footsteps, I look back. She’s standing in a shadow near the door, her expression sad but strong at the same time. Why did she stop? Why isn’t she
running to my side?
Reality hits like an unforgiving wind. Of course, Gabriela can’t come with me. She’s a slave, and they’d hunt her down, forcing her right back here.
By the blood. If anyone suspects that she knew about my true heritage, they’ll take her life. Without hesitation. She’s already risked much by, I suspect, arranging this ride.
The moment I realize we’ll never see each other again, tears well in my wells and wet my cheeks as they fall. Raphael starts to close the door, but Gabriela rushes forward, and he falters. In a rush of warmth and familiar smells, the small human cups my face in her work-roughened hands. “Stop crying, mija, there’s no time. I will find you, okay? Keep your head down and do as you’re told. I will find you.”
Sniffing, I can only manage a nod, and Gabriela presses a harried kiss to my cheek. She exchanges a look with Mei Lien, so brief I wonder if I imagined it, and pulls back. A moment later, the door closes between us, and I’m watching her shrink through a layer of foggy glass as she retreats.
Only until we turn left, and she’s no longer within sight, do I settle into my seat. The three humans crowded in the space with me don’t say a word. The tickle at the back of my throat—the thirst of a vampire freshly Awoken—chooses that moment to return. I seek Alexei’s gaze in the mirror, hoping for comfort or kindness, but he is focused on the road. When I glance at Raphael, though, he’s watching me.
“May I know where you’re taking me?” I venture, an obvious waver in my voice.
The dark-haired human says nothing. As the silence stretches, I dart a glance toward Mei Lien, recalling the look she shared with Gabriela. She pretends to be absorbed in the city passing by. A rare flash of rebellion blinds me for a moment. Maybe I should take advantage of their reluctance, their distraction. I’m still a vampire, even if I’m only half of one, and I’m stronger than them. I could escape this car if I tried.
Then I look at Alexei again. I stare at that aging profile, the curve of his ear, a sight more familiar to me than even my own mother’s face. If I broke free and did any damage to the car, to the reputation of the Vampire King, Alexei would be punished for it. They all would be.
I soon realize we’re driving down side roads. A tremor of fear travels down my spine. What if I’m wrong about their good intentions? What if they’re taking me somewhere to kill me?
At this point, maybe it would be an act of mercy.
I don’t recognize any of the businesses or street names, which means we must be in Wardthorpe. Long ago, Father forbade everyone in the mansion from coming here. It’s the biggest district in the city, a place for vampires who defy the king’s color-coded system and free humans. Their freedom comes at a steep price, though. The vampires exist without the protection of guards or the royal purse strings. The unclaimed humans may be fed upon or outright killed. They, too, are forced to find other ways to pay their bills.
Alexei drives us out of Wardthorpe and into more familiar territory. The dilapidated homes and shops of Oldbel crawl past. Here, the currencies are anything vital for survival. It is everything opposite the home I’ve known until now.
During my upbringing, I wasn’t resourceful like Beatrix or strong like Valerie. I hid away with my books and my growing things. I spent most of my efforts coaxing flowers from the ground.
In this world, flowers are nothing but colorful things to be stepped on.
“His Majesty assigned you to the sewer sector,” Raphael mutters, startling me.
“Wh-what does that mean? Sewer sector?” I repeat, feeling as if I might vomit all over the backseat. To my shame, I’ve never taken much interest in the politics of New Ve, never expressed any interest in exploring the inner workings of the society Alexander Travesty has built. All that affected me was the Awakening and the color of my eyes… and even that is shrouded in a veil of vague explanations and unanswered questions. Once, I heard my cousin challenging Alexander’s logic for manipulating our very DNA to match his vision, but one day Marcus fell remarkably silent on the subject.
“…a squadron of humans assigned to every district,” Raphael is explaining. I force myself to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. “They patrol the underground and ensure our citizens’ survival from…”
His hesitation is enough to fill in the blanks.
Decades ago, before New Ve was formed, a virus swept the world. Humans and vampires alike can contract it, and the result is similar to rabies, except these victims don’t die. They roam, mindless and endlessly hungry. We call them weepers—amongst their many other gruesome symptoms, victims of the virus are constantly sobbing, crying, and wailing.
It’s one of the eeriest, most disturbing sounds I have ever heard. I’ve never experienced it with my own ears, but even captured on recordings, the weeping makes my blood run cold.
“He assigned me to a sector where I’m most likely to die, didn’t he?” I ask in a low voice.
Raphael says nothing, which again, is an answer in itself. At least there won’t be a body for Father to hang on the wall, I think as I stare out the window.
For the first time, Mei Lien speaks. Her tone is heavy with reluctance, and I remember again that moment between her and Gabriela. “There’s a boardinghouse near here,” she says, ignoring Raphael’s intense stare. “I don’t know the name of it, but it’s run by a woman called Ada. She might have a room.”
I try to thank her, but my throat shudders with pain, yet another poorly-timed reminder that I haven’t fed. The monster within me rears its ugly head, singing like the call of a water nymph. Drain these humans. Drain them dry and take the car.
The thought makes my heart race and my gums throb. I can’t. Surely, if I tried to run, the famously unforgiving Vampire King would send troops after me, resulting in a punishment far worse than anything I could face at this boardinghouse of Mei Lien’s. I shove the voice away and lick my gums in an attempt to lessen the ache.
The brakes squeal as the car comes to a complete stop. Just then, a tinny voice speaks from Raphael’s earpiece—my heart is beating too loud to make out the words. Frowning, he turns his head away to listen. Taking advantage of his distraction, I look toward the front seat. Alexei is watching in the rearview mirror.
“Please don’t leave me here,” I whisper, knowing even as I say it there’s nothing he can do.
He averts his gaze, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “I’m sorry, dócha.”
Finished with his conversation, Raphael is looking at me now, his mouth a thin line of tension. “A lot of people are sorry today,” is all I say to Alexei, my voice faint. A numb sensation creeps through me.
Cold air fills the car as Raphael gets out. He holds the door open, a silent but effective way of saying that it’s time. Choking back a sob, I force myself to slide across the seat and get to my feet.
The rain immediately comes for me, sinking greedily into my clothes and along my skin. I stand there, searching for the strength to let go of the car. Raphael’s lavender gaze meets mine. “Good luck,” he says quietly. The same words my mother had said to me last night.
“Th-thanks,” I rasp. There’s a sound stuck in my throat, something halfway between a sob and a scream. As I try to swallow it, again and again, I step back so Raphael can finally close the door. He climbs in and does exactly that.
No one in the car looks back as Alexei guides them away from the curb.
After a brief hesitation, the vehicle picks up speed, its tires crunching over a shattered bottle in the street. Though I try not to, I can’t stop myself from watching my last tie to the mansion—to my family and a life I didn’t get to have—drive away. The taillights vanish around a corner a few moments later, leaving me drenched, terrified, and alone.
I look around. Oldbel looks back, with broken windows for eyes and a trash-littered street as an unsmiling mouth. The ache at the back of my throat returns. Feed. Feed. Feed. Within seconds, it becomes more. It feels like there’s something clawing at me from the inside. I ne
ed blood, and soon if I want to survive the next few hours.
“Welcome home,” I whisper, shivering.
Chapter Three
The swell of voices and the tangy, sweet scent of human blood assails my senses, making my temples pound in tune with the throbbing in my gums.
I stare up at the boardinghouse I’ve been searching for all night. To my consternation, I discovered that nothing in Oldbel is marked, whether by street signs or house numbers, and no one would give me directions. Each person I came in contact with took one startled look at my face and fled. While it’s common knowledge that my kind isn’t exactly liked around here, Wardthorpe, or Midtown, I suspect the city has already learned of my disastrous Awakening.
This resulting in hours spent wandering down quiet roads. The moon isn’t always good company—my thoughts were crowded with memories of this night. Beatrix’s averted gaze as she handed me the mirror, the bottomless darkness in the Vampire King’s eyes as he stared into mine, the wisps of my mother’s dark hair as she turned away in that shadowed hallway, Gabriela retreating in the rain.
Now it’s 4:30 in the morning and the sun will be rising soon.
The building’s exterior is made of old wood and well on its way to rotting off. The handful of shingles left on the roof are covered in moss. Even from the street, I can smell all the humans inside. There’s at least half a dozen of them. Then there’s the house next door, which carries the familiar scents of an opium den. This is the place I’ve been trying so hard to find? This is where Gabriela thought I would find refuge? A bitter breath of laughter escapes me, fogging the cold air in front of me.
I could’ve gone to a hotel, of course, so long as I kept my eyes lowered. I’d subtly counted the money during my journey, and apparently the amount I grabbed earlier was just under three thousand dollars. Pocket change for a royal vampire.
A frown pulls down my mouth as it occurs to me… now that I’m not a member of the family, now that everything I know is forfeit, does taking the money make me a thief? Without it, though, I don’t stand a chance, so I suppose it doesn’t matter. New Ve isn’t kind to the homeless and the destitute. Bodies that aren’t mounted on the wall are simply burned.