Page 27 of Hunger & Harmony

We hold a three-second staring contest before Lorelai’s shrill laughter cuts through the crisp air.

“Alright, everyone! Let’s load back up!”

By the time I look back at him, Cam is approaching the bus. Or Cash? I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. Maybe I heard him wrong. Maybe he’s tired or just an asshole who wanted to spook the new girl. That’s all the explanations I can think of . . .

I pocket my phone, not bothering to check what else my mom is saying. There’s no time to address this. I just need to make it to Gravemont. Hearing from Viola would be a lifesaver.

Firmly seating myself at the table, I notice Cam or Cash or whatever slipping into the driver’s cabin. He must be helping the driver navigate.

We start the final stretch. The moonlit coastline is replaced by choppier waters to our left, and distant mountain ranges rise from the grasslands to the right. Whispers of trees become an onslaught of evergreens, and the temperature drops further. A mist of rain hides the moon and stars.

I marvel at its beauty as we rush by. My hometown is nothing but plains and wheat fields.

The trees and mountains give way to concrete, and my awe wanes. In the dead of night, the industrial city of Gravemont is eerily vacant. It’s like we’re the only ones rolling through this landscape of asphalt and urban density. Like the city itself is holding its breath.

My teeth worry at my lower lip. I’m not blind to how much graffiti protests ‘leeches’ and ‘blood thieves’ on the old buildings we pass or under bridges. The closer to downtown we get, the more flyers are plastered everywhere. These outcries litter every corner and dance amongst dead leaves.

The first sign of life appears when we roll to the front of a hotel. A distinctly vintage architecture forms the looming building. Despite its warm and opulent exterior, the security is unlike anything I’ve seen so far. Even onboarding the tour bus earlier and witnessing fans and media crowding around, nothing comes close to this amount of armed guards.

“You hanging in there?”

I turn to Ezren with as bright of a smile as I can.

“Of course! Traveling is easy, and I’m getting used to this whole . . .five in the morning bedtime thing.”

“I know,” he says, bumping my shoulder with his as the bus slows to a halt. “I’m talking about the hostility.”

My smile falters, and he shrugs.

“We’re used to it. A lot of our most loyal fans are here, but so are some of the biggest haters.”

“Why?” I whisper. I turn back to the window, eyes fixed on the venomous messages left for Arteria scrawled onto the hotel’s brick. “Why would anyone hate you guys?”

“Lack of understanding,” he hums. “Jealousy, too. Who wouldn’t want to be or get with me?”

I laugh weakly. I’m definitely the last to know about vampires’ divisive effect on the human population, but the unrest is palpable in this city. I swear, even wrong notes echo in the distance as doors open and everyone unloads.

“Cadie!” Lorelai hollers, and I follow her voice out into the sea of security. “Get everyone checked in and settled.”

“We know what to do,” Ezren says as he steps off the bus. “We’re not babies.”

“Do you ever just listen?” Ryel huffs as he joins.

“Quiet,” Selene says, and even the guards seem to straighten up at the sight of her.

A single burst of light catches my attention. Then another. And another.

Wide-eyed, I search around, only now realizing that the media is waiting, despite security pushing back on them. The last to leave, Niko descends the steps with his head high. My gaze softens as I stare, knowing the burden on his shoulders. He makes it seem weightless.

The media is like gas, and Niko is the match. Everything immediately catches fire.

Chaos. Shouting and jostling break out, and the front doors are only right there. The cameramen and reporters try to muscle past the wall of guards, screaming questions and insults alike. My hands find Ezren’s wrist, and then Niko’s arm, unsure if I’m helping them or they’re protecting me as we wade towards the entrance.

When the automatic doors open, we stumble into the lobby. I can barely notice the old luxury of the interior, unable to appreciate any details as reporters swarm from the outside. Already, the staff attend to us, taking our luggage and coordinating where to go. I’m grateful for the smooth process. I suspect this hotel has a history with Arteria.

It’s only when the elevator doors slide closed and begin the journey up to the top floor that I focus on my right hand. More importantly, what’s in it.

“Oh, Your Majesty!” I gasp, retracting my hand like he’s a hot surface.