“The wrist is fine,” he rumbles.
I offer him mine and he brushes his nose across the vein. I hear him inhale, and then he bites. I feel the rush of venom, but it’s far less personal than my other donations. I have no trouble blocking out the strange chemical reaction that inevitably happens.
George draws back earlier than either of my previous donors and politely closes the wound without being weird about it. “Yeah, you’re delicious. I’m guessing Marabella is gonna have you booked into next year.” He laughs.
“It’s good to keep busy,” I say because “I don’t plan to be here that long” doesn’t seem appropriate.
Without me asking, he pulls out his wallet and tips me five hundred dollars. “That’s for you.”
I stare down at the money. I should just say thank you.
“George, do you think anyone can stop the queen?”
He frowns. “You’re brave to ask that question. Maybe don’t be so brave with anyone else. But since you’re brave enough to ask it, I’ll be brave enough to answer. I thought there was one person who could stop her. Strongest motherfucker I ever met in my life. And right now she’s got him jailed in that dungeon of hers. If she can take that guy down, I’m not sure anyone else is capable of unseating her. Especially if she wins him to her side. If she does that, our fates are sealed.”
Damien. He’s talking about Damien. As he pulls the key to my room from his pocket and exits with a quick goodbye, I know in my gut I don’t have much time.
I’ve been at Marabella’s three weeks before I’m allowed to leave my room. By that time I’ve collected enough tips to pay off my debt and then some, but I hold it back. I know the location of the palace now thanks to Marcel, and I could ask Everald for a disguise if I needed one, but until I have a solid plan for gaining an audience with the queen, I need Marabella’s protection.
I’m relieved to be wearing some of the clothing I brought from home after so much time in the silky robe uniform. An actual bra along with my jeans and T-shirt. I’m thankful for the opportunity to stretch my legs. I’ve kept myself strong with yoga and the exercises Cassius taught me, but I am woefully tired of the same four walls.
The guard who escorts me, a vampire named Samuel, leads me out the back door for what I’m told is a prescribed walk. As he opens the door for me, my jaw slackens at what is behind it. After the blooming cherry tree in the foyer, I didn’t think anything else about Marabella’s could surprise me, but I was mistaken.
A Japanese garden unfolds before me within the confines of a towering stone wall. A trail of raked pebbles beckons us to flow forward into the quiet space, the path edged by a lush jungle of carefully pruned azaleas, camellias, and mums set among squat stone lanterns. The hollow sound of bamboo water features tipping on their axis as they fill and empty welcomes me forward. It’s irresistible. I step onto the stony path.
Only when I’m a few yards into the garden do I notice that Samuel is no longer beside me. I glance back to see him standing guard in the shadow of the doorway. Bright light drenches my skin. But we’re still underground. When I look up, if I squint, I can make out the ceiling of this subterranean world. Maybe the vampires just don’t like how intense the artificial light is. Fine with me.
I stride forward, following the bend of the path around a lone maple standing sentinel, its crimson leaves a riot of red against the muted tones of weathered rock and raked gravel. Beyond, a small wooden bridge rises from mossy outcroppings over a babbling creek. I’m delighted to find the flowing water populated by koi fish, living brushstrokes of orange and white darting beneath the rippling surface. The water winds to a small forest of dwarf pines that buffer the base of the stone barrier. Is it there to keep me in or them out?
“Ingenious, wouldn’t you say?” Marabella rounds the corner and flashes a cultivated smile in my direction. Dark brown hair gathers in loose curls atop her head, and her ample figure fills the elegant lavender cashmere sweater and wide-legged pants in ivory silk she’s wearing. Gone is the suburban housewife who ushered me through the red door, replaced by a shrewd businesswoman who owns every inch of her space. “When Sakura’s lover built this place for her, she was wise enough to insist on a sunlit garden. I imagine her relaxing here when Night Haven became too much for her.”
“Is it a charm like the cherry tree?”
She sighs. “No. Full-spectrum grow lights. Not strong enough to kill a vampire intruder as the sun would but strong enough to make them sorry for trying.”
Ingenious indeed. No human could possibly climb out. No vampire would risk climbing in.
She leans her elbows on the railing of the bridge, staring out over the water that flows beneath us. I wonder why she’s here. No way is it a coincidence that we are standing on this bridge at precisely the same moment, but the longer she remains silent, the more I wonder at her purpose.
“You never explained about the fees,” I finally say. There’s no emotion in my voice. I simply state the obvious to break the silence.
“We tell the donors who are smart enough to ask.” She stands up straight and turns toward me, her legs crossing at the ankle. “Anyway, I doubt it would have changed your mind had you known. Your reasons for wanting to be here are your own, but I’m guessing money isn’t the primary one.”
I say nothing. It isn’t a question anyway, and even if it were, I couldn’t share the answer without putting myself at risk.
“People come here for all sorts of reasons. Some to get clean or sober. Some to lose weight. Some to escape abuse or neglect, homelessness, poverty, a life of crime. Others, like your friend Olivia, hope to convince a patron to turn them, give them immortal life.”
“Olivia wants to be turned?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Marabella gives an uneven smile. “Oh yes, she has her mind set on it. I seriously doubt she’ll find a vampire willing to do it though. Few would risk it.”
“Why? I’d think vampires would want to make more vampires.”
She snorts. “No more than humans want children. Most who do understand it’s an enormous responsibility. A maker is responsible for training his progeny and keeping her within the old law until she learns. And that’s if both human and vampire survive the turning. To do it, the vampire must bite the human. Vampire venom is a must. Then the vampire must feed the human an uncomfortably large portion of their own blood, enough that it weakens them. And then they have to have the balls to kill the human.”
“Kill them, as in fully dead and gone?”
“As a doornail. Once they’ve turned, it’s very possible the new vampire will be stronger than the old, their body having their own blood to feed on. It’s not uncommon for the newly turned to kill their maker. Valeska killed hers. Olivia seems like the type who wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.”
