“What’s not to understand? When your training is complete, you will choose who purchases you.” Cyrus’s answer is simple, as if he’s told me a million times before.
“What if I don’t want to be sold?”
He scoffs. “I’m afraid that’s not an option.” He moves to the apartment door. “Go take a shower, Violet.” He closes the door behind him. “Be smart,” his voice echoes through the wooden door.
Out of the options I have, he’s right. I’m safer here. I can’t take the chance on harming my family, or…I wipe a silent tear…or my friends. I concentrate on walking slowly to the bathroom, making sure to walk at human speed. I’ll be damned if Cyrus is going to teach me everything.
I step into the modern bathroom, finding all the latest hair and face products. Locking the door behind me, I laugh at the ignorance that motion means. A door lock won’t stop Cyrus. Hell, I’m not sure a brick wall would stop him.
I take a much longer shower than necessary, using every provided product. Staring into the mirror, for the first time, I see the woman I’ve become. Bright red hair and large brown eyes stare back at me. The dirt-brown they’ve been since birth has been replaced with an amber glow. Soft intentional freckles cover my cheeks, rounded out by bright pink lips. “Who are you, Violet Du Four?” I ask the woman staring back at me. She doesn’t answer…just continues to stare.
I wrap a towel around me and move into the adjoining bedroom. A large chifforobe against the wall catches my attention. I open the door, surprised by what’s inside. A full row of dresses that rival the one in the dress shop window. I swallow the lump in my throat at the memory of my friends and the simplicity of that moment. My hands glide across the silk fabric. Is this real?
Pulling a light blue silk dress from the cabinet, the beadwork around the neckline is the first thing I notice. Each intricate ball is hand-sewn together to form a beautiful flower. This is a work of art in fabric form, simple, elegant, and screams sophistication and grace.
I glance through the rest of the dresses. All are equal to the first in their complexity and beauty. I slidemy first choice over my head, making sure to tie the sash into the perfect bow. I pull red hair high on my head and take time to apply all the makeup products I can find. Other than the dyed hair, the Violet in front of me is almost…dare I say, pretty?
Back in the living room, I’m surprised to find Cyrus sitting on the couch. “I didn’t hear you come in,” I say, stopping in my tracks.
“I’m quiet like that.” He looks me up and down. “You look…nice.”
“Thank you. The clothes in the closet are perfect.”
“I thought you’d like them. I had a bit of help picking them out.” He takes a sip from the open bottle of blood in his hands. “They’re yours to take with you.” He holds a bottle in my direction. “Care for one?”
I shake my head. “No.” After nearly killing the man in the alley, the hunger pangs have subsided for the moment.
He nods toward an uncovered window. “The sun is starting to rise. After the dye is removed, we’ll leave for Florida.”
“Why Florida?” I ask.
“I have a home and friends there. You’ll be safe and away from the possibility of running into someone you know.”
Sadness fills me with his words. “I want to tell them goodbye,” I whisper.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’m sorry.” He slidesforward on the couch. “They think you’re dead, Violet. That’s the best closure you can provide.”
“That’s not closure,” I retort.
“What would you tell them? You’re a vampire and afraid you’re going to eat them, or maybe that you’ve met someone and are moving to another state without discussing anything with them?” Long arms cross his chest. “Do either of those provide closure?”
He’s right, and it pisses me off. “No,” I answer, refusing to look at him.
“The salon opens in thirty minutes. There’s a suitcase in the bathroom. Fill it with the clothes you want to take. What’s left here, we will get later.” I turn without another word and follow instructions. I manage to fit most of the dresses inside the suitcase, trying not to wrinkle them in the process. I don’t bother with taking anything else and am in the living room several minutes later with my suitcase in hand.
Cyrus doesn’t speak as he leads me through the door and out onto Bourbon Street. The smell of warm blood brings my stomach back to life. “Fight it,” he whispers for my ears only. I do as he suggests, focusing my attention on the few workers who are preparing for the day. Most businesses are still closed, which makes the walk easier. I laugh at my thoughts. Businesses, meaning speakeasies or bars. It’s way too early for them to open.
We move through the city at human speed. My instincts have strangely changed from hunting theintoxicating smell of humans to having to fight to remain at a constant speed. Cyrus stops in front of an unsuspecting door on Royal Street. “This is a salon?” I ask, inspecting the plain door.
“At times,” Cyrus answers mysteriously, leading me inside. We enter a narrow exposed brick hallway. Overgrown greenery lines the walk as we continue moving ahead. The hallway leads to a large courtyard. Unlike most courtyards I’ve seen in the city, this one is surrounded by glass, combining the outside and inside together. The greenery that lined the hallway is nothing compared to what’s inside. A few oak trees, nearly two-stories tall, surround the room, reaching for the sun high above.
“Ah, mon amour!” a young woman greets, as we enter the open room. Her French accent is strong, and the warmth of her voice offers instant relief. She wraps thin arms around Cyrus’s shoulders, pulling him close. “You look better each time I see you.” She steps back, patting him lightly on the shoulders, looking at me. “Is this her?”
I clear my throat and hold out my hand. “Violet Du Four,” I greet her. The warmth of her hand reminds me of the blood that crossed my lips not long ago. Dark hair is curled tightly to her scalp. Her dark eyes are the perfect shade to match her ebony skin. She’s beautiful in a way I’ve never seen before.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Violet Du Four. My name is Monique Devereaux.”
I look around the home/courtyard. Honestly, I don’t know what it is. “Do you live here?”
