Hox Giomar.
“Really, Hox? Drunk already?” Another voice. This one I’ve gotten to know over the past month… Zein’s. “Come in, Narref. You both may enter.”
“Yes, my lord.” Narref answers while side glancing me with his demand. I reluctantly fall in line behind him. Head down, wrists crossed, breathing even, muscles relaxed—yet postured.
What could they possibly want from me? If not my blood?
Only the marble tile welcomes my gaze as we emerge into the dimly lit room. The dancing lantern light plays with shadows of nearby chair legs and gold-embossed furnishings. I trail Narref’s black slacks until his gait turns to face the center of the room. I turn as well, but keep my head down. The burning desire to take in my surroundings—to know what I’m dealing with—floods every muscle in my face.
Keep looking down, keep looking down.
“So, this creature here… is the infamous Z29734?” Giomar’s voice pierces the air. The octaves rise as he continues, “The legendary human who spat in the council of Cain’s face—in my face—and still managed to get picked up by her sponsor? That one?”
My whole body is suddenly shivering. Uncontrollably.
“You asked to see her, well here she is.” Zein’s tone sounds exasperated, and I can’t say I blame him.
Giomar wanted to see me?
“My little birdies don’t lie,” Giomar sing-songs and tension hangs in the air. “I knew she was still alive. As well as the other two.”
My heart skips a beat. Savvy and Katarii?
Zein scoffs. “All right, Narref. That’s enough, send her back.”
“No, no, no, Narref. You stay there,” Giomar slurs, turning to Zein.
“Listen, mate, you can’t just be goin’ around taking supply units, regardless if they are passed on or not. It’s just not in the game. You’re young and stupid so I’ll let it slide this once but… you really should at least, I don’t know, ask or something.”
Giomar lets his fists fall to the table and I jump. “‘Ey girl. What are you staring at your feet for? Enjoy the party.”
“It is against her training,” Zein interrupts with a snarl.
“Pfft. Training? That ship has long sailed, mate.” Giomar counters. “Besides, rules are meant to be broken. You’re living proof of that.” He snickers and a fierce silence sweeps the room, chilling and lucid, as if war is about to break out over the table. Even Narref shifts his weight from heel to heel.
“I said to look up,” Giomar finally repeats.
I hesitantly lift my gaze, anxiety pumping far too fast through me to think of a better alternative. Giomar and Zein sit across a long, wooden and sculpted table spread end to end with hearty portions of Sabbanthian delicacies. My eyes skirt the roasted meats and vibrant fruits and vegetables before falling on Giomar, himself. He’s dressed in leather armor—dyed pieces of bound animal skin and metal plates covering a black ensemble, complete with the dangling silver emblems of Cain. The only amethyst thing on him is in the form of crystals hanging from his pointed ears, visible beneath his trimmed brown hair. His face, more disturbing now up close, draws upward as he completes his ferocity with a smirk. Vampires seem to always be good looking, but there’s something about the bad ones—the ones who look like they killed for a living and never batted an eye. The ones that seem to always be contemplating the worthlessness of your soul.
Behind Giomar stands a vampire official clad in in amethyst robes and hood, but it’s the girl next to him that hitches my breath. Human, as there is no doubt by her fragile existence. She’s shuddering, wobbly. Near every visible part of her is bruised and discolored as if she’s battling some pervasive illness. Dark circles line her eyes and beneath her cheekbones, trailing down her neck to the deep pools of her clavicles—utterly skeletal. Her right arm is connected to the vampire attendant at her side by way of a kortrastet, the thin, deep red tube weaves up into the vampire’s hand like a puppet string. A clawed forefinger covers the end of the siphon, apparently waiting for its master to give the order for more blood. This... is how Giomar treats his supply units. This is what wholly devoted Savvy would have had to look forward to. Rage tenses every muscle in my body.
“Oh.” Giomar turns to look at her as well. “You like her, eh?” He smiles back at me. “Aye, me too. She’s a great one. The best blood in my whole seraglio, if you ask me.”
Then why