by K J Sutton
An instant later, another set of hinges groan. A harried-looking woman emerges wearing pink floral pajamas. She notices me standing there, frowns slightly, and walks by without a word before rushing to close the bathroom door behind her.
Nice to meet you, too.
Then, within my next breath, two more doors open. Nina brushes past, and I notice the reek of dust and sweat on her clothes. Working clothes. My nose wrinkles. “You missed breakfast,” is all she says.
Drew is right behind her. “I tried to wake you, but you must be a heavy sleeper,” he offers apologetically.
The confirmation that I missed a freshly-made meal makes my face fall. Despite what old human literature says, vampires eat solid food… we just don’t have to in order to keep living. As the twins reach the end of the hall, my stomach makes a sound of protest. Both humans look back at me, Nina wearing an expression of impatience and Drew looking expectant. “Aren’t you coming?” he calls, forgetting there’s no need to raise his voice. “Our shift starts in fifteen minutes.”
Oh, god. This is really happening.
“What would happen if I didn’t go?” I ask, thinking of the weepers. I’ve never fought anyone in my life. Well, aside from my siblings, and they never truly tried to harm me. This… this is life or death.
Nina snorts, as if my question is ridiculous. She’s not wrong.
“After the king personally made sure you were assigned to this sector?” Drew clarifies. He tilts his head and falls silent for a few seconds, as though he’s really considering it. “You’d probably be treated like every other deserter—they’d add your name to the bounty list. Every hunter in New Ve would be out for you.”
I’ve heard of bounty hunters, of course. In the interest of delegation, the king had decided to keep certain aspects of the humans’ judicial courts intact. Each district has its own law officials and hearing courts. If someone tries to run, a bounty hunter steps in.
I don’t really feel like being hunted today.
“I guess we’d better get going, then,” I manage, glancing down at the clothes I showed up in last night. Since I slept in them, they’re even more disheveled now. But they’ll have to last a while longer.
As we descend the stairs, the cat twining between our ankles and yowling for its breakfast, Ada’s voice drifts to me again. I hear my name. Unnerved, I follow the sound of murmured conversation into the parlor. To my surprise, Drew and Nina follow.
The boardinghouse owner stands in the middle of the room, her posture stiff and furious. She must wake up earlier than everyone else, because her blond hair is tucked back in an elegant chignon, and the scent of soap rolls off her skin. When my eyes fall on the man standing next to her, I frown and take in his almost-completely tattooed skin. He’s wearing leather pants and a v-neck shirt that shows off his smooth skin and defined muscles. Why would these two be talking about me?
“Good morning,” Ada says to all three of us. Her gaze lands on my face and lingers there—she knows I’ve fed. “I trust you slept well, Charlotte.”
Reminding myself that I broke no laws and just took what was freely offered, I clear my throat. “It’s Charlie now, actually. And yes… thank you again for your hospitality.”
Ada nods curtly, her expression inscrutable, then gestures to the black-haired man next to her. “This is Hideshi Takahashi.”
Moving so quickly that even I don’t catch it, Hideshi pulls out a piece of unbreakable plastic that serves as his identification. My eyes scan over it quickly. He’s a city employee and a kitsune.
A girl I used to drink with at the clubs was one—she’d used her nine tails to hold shots.
There’s no sign of Hideshi’s tails, sadly. He wears his human shape like a uniform, not a hair or a feature out of place. Most creatures I know prefer to live somewhere between their two forms.
“Um, hi,” I say, waving awkwardly. Sensing Ada’s rising temperature, I glance at her again, hoping for some kind of clue about this visit. Her eyes are darker than usual, her lips drawn into a tight line of displeasure. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
Nina sighs as if we’re boring her to death and leaves the room. Drew, however, lingers at my side, his posture somehow protective.
Protective towards… me?
“Go. I’ll catch up with you,” I tell him, but he acts as though I haven’t spoken and remains where he is.
“We just processed your paperwork,” the kitsune says crisply. “Normally, I don’t make house visits, but as this is a high profile case, protocol needs to be followed to the letter.”
“Paperwork?” I repeat, and Ada’s nostrils flare. When I look back at the kitsune, something clicks in my mind. Of course. The tattoos. The marks every slave wears to let everyone else know what they are. Owned. Weak. Lesser.
Horror gnaws a hole in my stomach.
The tattoo is put in two places—around the right wrist and on the left side of the neck—and at least one of them needs to be showing at all times. The wrist tattoo is a black band and the neck is the wearer’s citizen number.
Tattoos are particularly painful for vampires. Not only because of our sensitive skin, but also because the needles have to go deeper for us, in order to be permanent.
“Can you make this quick?” I force out, balling my hands into fists so no one can see how they’re shaking. “I can’t be late for my first day of work.”
I’m not even sure what happens to Lavender slaves who irritate their masters.
“It takes about sixty seconds for each mark.” Hideshi moves to a bag that’s resting on the apothecary table. He pulls out something that looks like a cross between a gun and a hairdryer. His calm gaze asks the question. Are you going to cooperate?
I swallow a lump of fear in my throat, school my features into a bland mask, and give the kitsune a brief nod. I scoot around him and lower myself onto the hard couch. Drew follows and sits next to me, our legs brushing. I turn to look at him, and he shoots me an easygoing smile, as if he’s trying to calm my nerves. I do my best to smile back.
With quick, practiced movements, Hideshi sets the tattoo gun down, pulls on some rubber gloves, and picks it back up again. Ada chooses that moment to leave the room, and her footsteps thunder in my ears as she walks past. The cat darts after her, mewling pitifully. With obvious reluctance, Drew shifts over to give the kitsune better access to me. The dark-eyed shifter sets his gun against my skin and pulls the trigger without warning or hesitation.
The pain makes my fangs slide out.
Digging into the arm of the couch, I breathe hard but refuse to make a sound. I’m not sure why, exactly. Maybe I don’t want to give my father the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me—although I doubt he’ll even hear about this. To the Travestys, I no longer exist. As the years pass, I will become nothing more than a bad memory.
“Hey, want to hear a joke, Charlie?” Drew asks abruptly.
I swallow a ball of pain lodged in my throat. “A… a joke?”
“Yeah, you didn’t know? I tell the best jokes. So, okay, why don’t vampires make good artists?”
How many seconds had it been since the kitsune pulled that fucking trigger? I try to focus on the air going in and out of my lungs. Drew taps my knee with his free hand, an obvious bid for attention, and I look up at him through my lashes, unable to hide a flash of annoyance. “Yes?” I say through my teeth. Am I even halfway through the sixty seconds?
“Fine, I’ll say it again. Because you clearly weren’t paying attention the first time. Why is it, Charlie Travesty, that vampires don’t make good artists?”
It feels like acid is burning through every layer in my neck. “Considering Monet was a distant cousin to the Vampire King, this joke is off to a wildly horrible start.”
“Because they always like to draw blood,” Drew concludes, ignoring this. A bizarre sound bursts from me, and I think I meant it to be laughter.
A second later, Hideshi removes the gun, and my relief is so profound that I also le
t out a whimper.
It takes a moment to realize that I’m clutching Drew’s hand. Slowly, I loosen my grip. I keep holding on, though. Because at this moment, I’m terrified that Drew is the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart. When Hideshi does something to the tattoo gun that makes it open, then close around my wrist, I go rigid again. “Relax,” the kitsune says sharply, dark eyes flashing. “If you’re tense, it’ll hurt more.”
As I struggle to obey, Drew taps my nose, drawing my attention back to him. The moment our eyes meet he asks, “Why couldn’t Dracula’s wife sleep?”
But his jokes aren’t enough to distract me. Maybe the wrist mark is more painful because of the bone—all I know is that my entire arm is on fire. I turn away from Hideshi and Drew, scraping at my reserves of endurance to hold back an agonized scream. Drew says something that I don’t hear. There’s only the pain, the spots of color in my vision, the inferno spreading through me. Sixty seconds has never felt so long.
Finished at last, the needles retreat and the kitsune’s warm presence retreats. Visibly shaking, I turn on the cushion. I can’t stop myself from glancing down and looking at the new bands encircling my wrist. Do I look as drained as I feel? Drew offers an encouraging squeeze before pulling his hand away. Without a word to either of us, Hideshi removes his gloves and tucks the tattoo gun away into the leather bag.
“Oh, leaving already?” Ada asks him, reappearing with a teapot in hand. “I was just about to poison your tea.”
Hideshi just gives her a dead-eyed stare in response, and as I grit my teeth through the lingering pain, I wonder if they knew each other before this. “Are you okay to stand?” Drew murmurs, helping me up anyway. Hideshi quits the room without another word.
I take a breath—it feels like the millionth time I’ve done that already, since waking—and meet the human’s violet-colored gaze. “You’ll be there today? At our sector?”
He gives me a quiet sort of smile and squeezes my hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Ada breezes past, now holding a tea mug and a plate of toast. Once again, the cat is right on her heels, batting at them every step of the way. Ada pauses in the doorway and fixes her gaze on the boy beside me. “Don’t be a hero and get yourself killed,” she says to him abruptly, her grip tightening on the plate. Her eyes flick towards me and, just like that, her meaning becomes clear.
And if there was any doubt, Ada’s next words make any misunderstanding impossible. “If you need a good lay, I know an excellent brothel,” she adds.
Ada doesn’t spare me another glance as she glides into the dining room. I stare after her, feeling more curious than hurt—I grew up in a nest of vipers who made it a form of entertainment to be cruel. How do I know this creature? Something about her is so familiar…
Drew doesn’t seem bothered by Ada’s harsh words, either, and winks at me when she’s out of sight. “Thanks for the advice, doll.”
With that, he inclines his head toward the front door in a silent question. Are you ready?
All I can manage in return is a tight smile. Drew gives me a knowing grin before he backs out of the parlor and strides to the door. Strangely enough, in that moment, he reminds me of Cain. Though the two of them couldn’t be more different, they have the same walk. The same confidence. The same certainty of their place in this world. I envy that.
A cool breeze kisses my skin, then, coaxing me from my thoughts. The whisper of air grants a moment of reprieve from the throbbing pain. I note that, for once, it’s not raining. Drew stands on the porch, facing me, an expectant curve to his lips. I finally send an answer back with my eyes. Ready. Sort of. Maybe.
Why can’t I take that first step?
“Hey, Drew?” I venture, gripping the edge of the doorway with white fingers.
He faces me again, having turned to give someone—probably Nina—a reassuring wave. Even now, there’s no impatience in his eyes. He looks up at me from the bottom of the stairs. “Yeah?”
“Why couldn’t Dracula’s wife sleep?” I blurt.
Drew Hayes rewards me with a warm, beautiful smile. His hair lifts in another breeze. “Why, she couldn’t sleep because of that old bastard’s coffin!”
The joke doesn’t make me laugh, but I feel the start of one, glowing within my chest like a faint light. The pain emanating from the fresh slave marks seems to abate, just a little.
After a moment, Drew cocks his head. The movement reminds me of last night, when we first met. It’s another way he speaks without actually saying anything out loud. What are you waiting for?
This time, I don’t give myself another chance to rethink it.
In the next breath, I step out after my new friend, feeling terrifyingly unprepared to begin our night in the shadow world beneath New Ve.
Chapter Five
As we step into the twilight, the stars readying for another night of shining, I turn my face away from Drew to hide a wince as the tattoos throb. Clouds leave my mouth with every inhale and exhale. A garbage truck rolls past in a burst of sound, off to begin its evening route. The sun has gone down, but its lifeblood still seeps across the horizon. The sky is a stunning blend of blues, wisps of clouds in some places and clusters of faint stars in others.
But I barely see any of it as we walk. All I can think about is the new slave marks on my body. They’re hot and cold at the same time, two burning spots. Is this what getting stabbed feels like?
Drew says my name, and I turn to look at him. Angry tears have gathered in my eyes, and now they blur his solemn expression. “I’m okay,” I tell him. The words sound weak, even to my own ears. I swallow and try again. “Or at least I will be. Maybe.”
I wait for him to respond. Instead, Drew bows his head, drawing my gaze to his own tattoo. The mark is obviously older than mine, the numbers dull and faded. Oblivious to my scrutiny, Drew’s chin presses against his chest and his expression is thoughtful.
We pass the side of a building, its brick side covered in what appear to be anti-vampire flyers. Kill them with milk thistle! Then, farther down, a bible verse. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Ephesians 6:12.
“Did you hear about the vampire who died of a broken heart?” Drew asks suddenly.
I try to summon a smile. “I’m sorry… I’m not in the mood for jokes right now,” I admit, feeling terrible even as I say it.
He acknowledges my words with a resigned shrug. “In a place like this, Charlie, you usually won’t be in the mood to laugh. That’s why you have to force yourself to find the humor, at least once every day. That’s the rule. Or you won’t survive here—I can promise you that. Now, I want you to tell me. Did you hear about the vampire who died of a broken heart?”
I can’t decide if I want to punch him or make out with him. We turn a corner, and there’s Nina up ahead, along with a petite blond I recognize from the boardinghouse. I tug my sleeve down over the tattoo—although they have marks, as well, I don’t want any commentary on mine. I want to mourn without an audience. “No, Drew, I didn’t hear about that vampire. Please, please tell me about his broken heart,” I say, smiling more freely now.
Drew gives a sad shake of his head. “He had loved in vein.”
For a moment, I’m trapped somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You’re a strange human.”
He nudges his shoulder against mine. “Right back at you.”
The words make me frown. Because he’s right—I am human. At least, part of me is. Like it or not, this is my world now.
“It’s not all bad, you know,” Drew adds, drawing me from my thoughts. “The sewer sector. The weepers don’t get in very often, and when they do, we watch each other’s backs. Most of the job is just clearing blockages or cleaning trash off the bullet tracks.”
We’re close enough to Nina and the blond that I can make out their
conversation now. The streets are getting busier, filling with cars and other slaves rushing to their sectors. We must be nearing Midtown—high above our heads, like a tragic imitation of New York City’s Times Square, now nothing more than a ghost city full of dry sobs, a giant screen lights the street. As I watch, my mother’s face appears on it. Beside her, New Ve’s most popular news anchor, Danielle of House Winter, stares out at the city with bright blue eyes. Her bleach-blond hair gleams angelically, but it’s just a skilled façade—I’ve seen her rip a feeder’s throat out with her teeth.
Her sweet voice echoes over the city as she urges citizens to report any sightings of Cassandra Travesty. I can almost forget how angry I am at my mother when I wonder what will the king do to her. Will he make an example of her in his bid for eliminating any future Lavenders?
The image on the screen shifts again, and my stomach tightens at the sight of Mother’s familiar dark gaze. There’s so much I wish I could’ve asked her. Who is my real father? Why was he worth the risk of what’s unfolding now?
Up ahead, Nina’s attention suddenly turns, and I follow it just in time to see a female vampire follow a human man out of a third-story window. Except, she doesn’t use the fire escape—she jumps. I forget Danielle’s broadcast and people stop to watch her slim form drop and hit the ground in a graceful crouch. Her boots make gravel fly. As the female straightens, I see she has several piercings on her face. She wears a t-shirt with a picture of a fanged smiley face on it… and it’s flicking everyone off.
“Who was that?” I whisper with wide eyes.
“No one you want to get noticed by,” Nina calls back, overhearing me. “If you do, you’re as good as dead.”
Drew rolls his eyes in my direction, a conspiratorial smile curving his lips. “Don’t mind her. She acts like that because people have let her down in the past, and now she doesn’t trust as easily.”
Nina hears this, too. “Why don’t you tell her my bra size while you’re at it?” she snaps.