bidding on us individually. Any women who are chosen will be considered tributes to the entire clan, brought to live in the palace for the duration of their contracted term.
I don’t know much about how it works beyond that. Every bit of knowledge I have about the process for humans to sell themselves to vampires is from snippets and rumors I’ve picked up on the street, stories about someone who’s friend of a friend traded their freedom and blood for a time in exchange for money.
I have no idea who makes the ultimate decision about how much to bid or who to bid on, but when the auctioneer starts the bidding, several serious looking vampires step forward. They’re much less raucous than the rest of the crowd, probably representatives from the palace, and they point to the women they want and call out numbers as the man in the red suit keeps everything running smoothly.
The first time one of the vamps points at me, my heart leaps. I’m tempted to just accept his offer right away, but I worry about looking too eager and drawing suspicion. Even vampire fangirls probably do it partly for the money, so I hold out until I get a higher offer and then nod to the auctioneer.
The whole thing only takes a few minutes. Once the bidding ends, the girls who weren’t chosen step down from their pedestals, some of them looking relieved and others disappointed. The woman who greeted me when I first walked in ushers them off the stage, and they disappear through the crowd. I lose track of them before they reach the door, dragging my attention back to what’s going on around me.
“Lovely, lovely. Another successful auction. Now I know you’re all ready for a feast, am I right?”
As he speaks, the auctioneer moves to the center of the stage while a red-tinged spotlight follows him. The crowd whoops enthusiastically, as if they don’t do this all the damn time. He drinks in their excitement like it’s lifeblood—ironically—and continues to amp them up. As he’s gesticulating, he moves back behind the pedestals, to the center of the stage. He pulls a rope that I mistakenly assumed was a pull rope for the velvet curtain, and a second later, the whole stage begins rocking and shaking under my feet.
“Escorts, to your tributes,” the auctioneer says.
Just like that, there’s a massive vampire by my side. His chest is bare except for the two straps of leather crossing it, which end in a belt slung low around his hips. He’s wearing combat boots, and his pants are covered in chains. Apocalypse punk seems to be the standard uniform for these “escorts,” though none of them are wearing exactly the same thing. He glances down at me, clearly bored. He must have wanted a flight risk. He keeps glancing eagerly at the tear-streaked woman in front of us, silently daring her to bolt.
She doesn’t. She seems smarter than that, even if she did end up on the auction block along with the rest of us. She must’ve done something stupid at some point to get here.
The part of the stage behind the pedestals has sunk into the ground now, revealing a broad hidden passage almost as big as the auction room itself. At the end, stairs lead down into the dark. I glance around for a mechanism to open the stage from below, but I can’t see anything. I want to look harder, but I don’t think I can get away with it. Not now.
Two vampires guard the top of the stairs. The escort-tribute pair in front of me is stopped, the tribute is searched, and then they’re allowed to pass.
I deliberately keep my breathing even and steady, trying to keep my heart rate down. I expected to be searched and prepared for that eventuality, but there’s always a chance I didn’t do as well as I think I did. I’m not a master-level seamstress, although I’m usually handy enough when I need to be.
Unaware of my inner anxiety, my escort drags me to a halt in front of security. I paste on my most inviting smile and look up at the guards through my lashes.
“Is it a… strip search?” I ask, trying to look both nervous and excited by the idea, instead of just nauseated.
“No,” one of them says shortly. His expression is hard and blank. Unlike the raucous crowd who came to watch the auction, he’s clearly just here to do his job.