A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon #1) - Kelsey Quick Page 0,17

control your mouth, do you?” he asks.

I don’t answer him. In fact, I make it a point not to. Any further involvement with this world is useless anyway. Unfortunately, he doesn’t let my newfound ability to remain silent stop him.

“If you would have begged, he would have kept you, you know? But now you have to pay the price for putting an unforgivable dent in his pride with your petty speech...,” he pauses to look down on me. “Though I suppose you truly believed all that you said to him?”

Reluctantly, I swivel my head to peer at him as I try to process his words. Should I even answer him? I’m already as good as dead anyway, and I don’t want anyone to mistake my actions on this night for stupidity.

“I have no intention of serving anyone that I don’t personally choose to serve. This is my life. And if the only way to be free is through death, then… okay.”

Narref laughs at me, replying, “Ah, but your fear says otherwise. I can smell it on you.”

“...I can’t help if I feel fear or not.” I reason with not only him, but with myself, my mind clearing to make way for my pride. “But it doesn’t make my decisions for me. That’s what makes us humans different from the cattle you think we are.”

“Oh? Well, your way of doing things seems to be working out for you.” He laughs at his own wit—or lack thereof. But even as we approach the cellar doors leading to the holdings of the fallen, I look him dead in the eyes and respond unshaken.

“Yes, it is.” I stand my ground, all the while he refuses to take me seriously. “If death is the only choice that I can make for myself, then I will make it.”

He snickers again while unlocking the chained handles of the cellar doors. Even this far away the howls and roars of the fallen, along with other—more innocent—screams shock my senses. Narref turns to me and smiles with a means to intimidate.

“Go ahead and justify yourself, but you should realize something before you meet this fantastic and courageous demise of yours. You nearly escaped from Nightingale, the most elite of all the supply schools, known for its near flawless security. So then, what made you so certain that you wouldn’t have been able to flee Lord Zein’s castle?”

My eyes widen.

“Are you saying that—”

“I’m saying that you were too busy balancing on your splintering step-stool that you never actually used that brain of yours,” Narref curtly interjects, opening the door to the dark stairwell.

I look him up and down. This guy, this vampire, doesn’t underestimate a human’s capability like the others do. How strange.

“Why are you—” I begin only to be cut off again.

“It’s no skin off my teeth. Your destination is at the bottom of the stairs. I would recommend you not to scream or scratch at the doors. No one will come for you and it will also grant you first place in line for ‘the drop,’” he says, nudging me forward as I lose my thoughts to the abyss of stairs, barely catching myself on the handrails as the strong stench of death and blood penetrates my nose. My heart snakes its way into my throat again.

“I hope this is what you truly wanted, two-nine-seven-three-four,” his soft voice is weighted by poor tidings. ”For now, it is your only choice.”

He slams the door and a loud sound ripples up from the bottom stairwell.

BAM!

“No, stop! PLEASE! NO!”

The plea of another supply unit.

My feet slip, and I take my first accidental step onto the stairs. Light suddenly fills my vision as tripped lanterns flicker on down the length and curves of the stairway, recognizing my entrance, and giving away my position.

“Hey, you up there! Quit stalling!” a squeaky voice calls out, the order obviously meant for me.

Dreadful screams and the wet, stringy sound of tearing flesh ricochet in waves throughout the stairwell—a supply unit meeting her end. My breath hitches.

Shaking, my hand makes use of the much-needed handrail, and I begin the descent into the fallen reserves.

This is it… this is really it.

The weight of foreboding death rests upon my shoulders, threatening to break me softly as I arrive at the mouth of the room.

Four vampire soldiers line the walls while an old man, who must be the surveyor, sits in a disgruntled heap upon a tall, metal chair, making tick marks every now and again on parchment. In front