New York City, New York.A place of dreams, they said. It was impressive, I will say that about it. Every handful of steps could land you on the corner of opportunity. My opportunity was nestled comfortably in oil and steel, which allowed me to purchase the place I now call my Nest, but it was not home. It could not be home,yet.
It would be a bit ridiculous to call this a townhome, considering the estate occupied half an entire block on Fifth Avenue. The limewashed brick and white stone made for an impressive display for those passing by, and I had just as impressive a view of the park. It was rather fun to have such a large green space in the middle of such an industrial hellscape.
As I stared at it now, I could see bodies of water glistening in the distance from my window. The sun was hot as it was magnified through the glass, though it still struggled to brighten the dark office.
The entire room was detailed with a rich, dark maple. It extended to designs along the ceiling and the walls, even lining the doorframes and windows. There were hints of crimson scattered around the room, from the rugs to some details on the upholstery.
Along the walls were a few paintings. I chose autumn hunting scenes to complement the rest of the room. On the only other wall without windows was my bookshelf, though it was much smaller than the collection I had in London. I had brought nothing to this new and mysterious land; I could always buy more things.
I ashed my cigarette above the crystal glass before proceeding to suck the last bit of life from the paper.
“I knew you would be sulking in here,” a Russian accent chimed at my door.
“What did I say about entering my study uninvited?”
“Whatever it was, I wasn’t listening,” he laughed. The other side of the desk creaked—presumably, from him sitting on it. It was wise to keep the desk between us. “Be thankful I come bearing good news.”
Luka was not quite second hand, but for safety reasons, he was close enough to be one. The cost of keeping an eye on him was his proximity to me. Abarelytolerable nightmare. I kept him busy with a recruitment position, which was more of a glorified secretary at best.
We have spent the last two years pitching to individuals in his network who were skilled enough in their trades, but with no bloodline to reap the benefits of an old Nest. The response so far has been positive, as unattached Vipera have no loyalty to anything but their own survival. We curated our Nest to only the best, brightest, and deadliest. We had nearly five hundred recruits, twenty of whom lived on the estate on the lower floors.
We had only one issue: none of them were Hosts. The competition unionized them, boycotting just our Nest. Not everyone was ready for something new, I suppose.Normalpeople were fine for some dining occasions; it was something to chew on. But in this day and age, Hosts are expected at any respected establishment. They were just convenient, refined. A Nest can get much done if they only have to feed on a Host once a month rather than normal bodies weekly. We were in the age of convenience, so modern Vipera expected nothing less. It was already a hard bargain recruiting to a brand-new Nest, never mind food insecurity added to the list of concerns. Class pride is a finicky thing. Not everyone was partial to the wealthy or swells, despite my money being older than any of them five times over.
“The world must be ending if you are the one to blow the trumpet.”
“So theatrical.” Luka leaned forward, slapping a piece of paper on the desk and plucking a fountain pen from the holder, circlingand underlining a line of text. Before he spoke, he looked up, as if to take in my reaction. “I found Alina.”
His voice in my ear became a mere buzz. My heart rose in my throat with every beat before I swallowed it back down. “What?”
“I found?—”
I hurled the glass ashtray at him.
He ducked forward, and it shattered against the floor behind him. “This is good news?—”
I reached across the desk, grabbing him by the jaw.
His nostrils flared, but he knew better than to do anything else to display his displeasure.
My fingers dug into his scarred skin.
He had never healed from that night, the skin remaining darker where he had been burned. The scar and discoloration went from his brow to his chin, cutting through his eye and lip. A gift from her and I. A reminder. Awarning. The parts of it that cut through his lip exposed his canines slightly due to the taut scarring. While I would have called this permanent maiming punishment, it would never be enough.
“I told you that you are forbidden from looking. I wish to not hear her name on your filthy tongue.Ever.” I looked in each of his eyes, searching for a reason to crush his head on the ornate mahogany between us.
He grabbed my wrist, squeezing it to remind me he could break it if he had to. “She’s not going to come back?—”
“She needs time.”
“It’s been two years, Silas.”
“She will come back; she knows where to find me. I left her letters?—”
“She’s not coming back,” he repeated slowly, sternly.
I let him go with a sneer, sitting down behind the desk, the leather of my chair warm from the glow of the window.
“I didn’t have to seek her out.” Luka rubbed his jaw and slid the paper forward. “This came from your father’s account.”
