3.
The castle wasn't actually a castle. There were no towers, no turrets, and no moat, though there were decorative ponds and streams and walls protecting it from the town commons, and plenty of stone. Its proper name was Sparrow Hall, named because from above it resembled a bird flying, wings outstretched forward and tail fanned out.
Briarvale was the capital of the vampire territory on this continent and Sparrow Hall was where the court lived. The vampires had a king, because they had both ego and a desperate need for a powerful hand to keep their monstrousness in line.
Lincoln pulled to the head of the sparrow, a grand, intimidating entrance past a fountain large enough to swim in and a wall of windows, stone, and scrolling ironwork. Then he continued along the drive, to the right wing, curving around the tips and along the back.
The rest of the mansion was no less grand than the front. There were no lies in the presentation of the vampires' homestead. The place was full of the rich and powerful and made no effort to be subtle about it. The tenants of the garage Lincoln pulled into alone could have run the city budget for a decade.
Jackson dropped his glamour. Vixen studied his real face, but didn't gasp or draw back in horror or otherwise react at all. Lincoln pulled up to an opening in the breezeway, grounded by an iron work gate dripping with vines and guarded by a vampire in black and a blank face. Jackson exited and held out a hand to Vixen. After a moment she took it and let him help her out.
Jackson slipped his arm into Vixen's. She stiffened, but allowed him. He could taste her fear at the back of his throat. But stronger than it was the anger.
Being here scared her, as it should. But something enraged her too. Was it him? Or perhaps this place? Part of him wanted to know. But he couldn't.
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you," he whispered to her, as they strode past the courtyard. "But you cannot trust anyone you meet here. Their loyalties can never be to you."
She smiled up at him, as if he'd whispered something amazing. "Not even you," she said sweetly.
Oh, he wasn't supposed to like her. But he already did.
The plush carpet concealed their footfalls over stone. But the creatures around them could smell them, practically taste them in the air. There was no way to walk through the manor unseen. Even with vampire gifts, speakers and cameras watched every inch.
The vampire king was a paranoid old git. One didn't stay the vampire king for two hundred and fifty years without caution.
Most of the creatures milling about eyed them with some curiosity, but left them alone. As they slipped from the public areas to the private wings the crowd became thinner. Yet also more dangerous.
A woman stalked openly toward them on gold heels. Her long red hair was pulled back in a perfect twist, the red threaded through with gold chain. She wore a turquoise and purple sundress that curved around her breasts and fell to her ankles in a waterfall of graceful silk. With her tall stature and poise, she looked as if she could have stepped out of Golden Age Hollywood. It was a look she cultivated carefully.
"Jesse." He acknowledged her with a polite nod. He moved to walk past, but her presence seemed to fill the hall. So, she wanted a scene then.
"Who is this delicious thing, Jackson?" Jesse stalked around the pair of them, studying Vixen with predatory eyes.One long-fingered hand reached out and nearly touched the collar at Vixen's throat. "So you've purchased another pet. So soon? And I thought you truly cared for Vanessa?"
Jackson hid the angry growl which dearly wanted to claw its way out of his throat. "Despite affections we need companionship, Jesse."
"I heard His High Lord demanded you have a pet. Your line has a reputation, you know." She continued to circle them, her attention abandoning his pet and instead running her hands along his chest in a far too familiar way.
But this act wasn't for him. He already knew what came of Vanessa, and what the High Lord had told him behind closed doors. This was all either a test to see what he might give away or to sow discord between himself and his Vixen. Likely both. She was a multitasker.
"Everyone knows Briarvale has the best pet shops," Jackson replied calmly.
Jesse eyed Vixen's bandaged hands. "Did you break your new toy already?"
"An unfortunate choice by her breeder to mark her as his property. I disapproved."
Jesse laughed, a light sound at odds with both the heavy surroundings and the dark topic. It was as if the world around them couldn't affect her. Vampire invulnerability at its best.
"There's a feast tomorrow night. I look forward to her formal presentation." Jesse moved aside, and suddenly Jackson felt like he could breathe again.
***
Jackson led her into an apartment deep inside the vampire castle. Once they shuffled inside he locked the three locks on the door leading to the outside hall.
Ruby took in the apartment. The front door led into a small foyer with space for hanging jackets and a small closet. The boxing in seemed purposeful, Ruby noted. The smaller entryway allowed for an easier defense, should anyone outside try to force their way in,
After that it looked surprisingly normal. The foyer opened into a light and airy living space. A living room with tan leather furniture on cream carpet and honey-brown wood tables and bookshelves merged seamlessly with a cozy dining area beneath a gorgeous light that reminded her of a shattering star. A breakfast bar with three stools divided the simple kitchen from the rest of the space. The windows were covered with gauzy curtains, including the arc window in a door leading possibly outside. A spiral staircase led above.
It was a pretty enough space. But the only personal touches were the potted plants everywhere. This was a place he stayed, but not where he lived. He watched her carefully.
"I like the light," Ruby said at last.
He nodded.
She wasn't sure what he expected of her. Companionship? Friendship? Blood? He wasn't offering any clues.
"What do you want of me?" she asked outright.
His mouth opened. Then closed again.
His real face was handsome, devastatingly so. But they all were. His hair was dark and thick, his skin vampire smooth, but not exceptionally pale, as some vampires became. His facial structure was refined, his eyes intense. His real face was almost difficult to look at for its beauty.
Fucking vampires.
"Indulge me," he said at last. "Pretend we are old friends who haven't seen each other for quite some time."
He sat on a stool at the breakfast bar.
"Do you want me to pretend to be a vampire too?" Pretend they were somehow equals?
"If you wish."
Ruby pulled out a chair from the table and sat, slowly crossing one leg over the other and making sure he watched her movements. She could play vampire. The point of her heeled foot pointed to him.
"What are we doing here, Jackson?" She played with a leaf on the plant on the table. "This apartment is a show place. Hardly a home."
"We're here because the vampire king demands us all serve a certain amount of time in court. He likes to make sure we all know that he sees and hears all. That he knows what we do when he's not around and we all live at his grace."
"Sounds dull. The political intrigue of immortals."
"Tedious, yes. But never dull." He smiled. She returned it. "Especially when you are living inside the spider web."
"Who is Vanessa?"
The illusion shattered. Jackson stood and glared out the window. "She was my last pet."
Ruby had guessed as much. "What happened to her?"
"She died."
Ruby opened her mouth, but Jackson cut her off. "Not here. Are you hungry?"
Ruby shook her head.
"It's very late. Are you tired?"
She was. But she wasn't likely to sleep in his presence. "I am."
"You need a shower too, and sleep."
"Not likely," Ruby muttered.
"I can help you sleep," Jackson offered. Ruby felt cold.
"No. Never."
Jackson nodded. "As you wish."
He led her up to the stairs. The second floor was more than the first. His clothes hung on a rack along one wall of the room. Real books lined the desk area. They were mismatched and worn, a mix of paperbacks, hardbacks, and journals. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. The only bed in the room was a serious-looking, heavy duty four poster.
Had Jackson and his last pet slept together? Ruby couldn't confirm the shape of the apartment in her head with the little information she'd gathered on their walk through. There was a couch and a chair over by the bookshelves and desk. Maybe there...
"There's ashower through there. Help yourself to anything you find. If you need help, hollar."
The pause at the end of his words carried with her as she followed his gesture to the bathroom. It was nearly as large as the bedroom. A whirlpool tub sat on a small dais, surrounded by unlit candles and more plants. A double sink stood before a seamless wall of mirror. And the shower. It was shower room, not a stall, tiled in sandstone colored shades, with a bench and more plants hanging from brass hooks along the walls. She wasn't sure where to even begin. Did she move the plants, or leave them?
Even with bandaged hands she managed to slip out of the outfit the witches had dressed her in. The earrings she couldn't do anything about, and the collar...from what she could see it didn't even have a seam. Magic. But what did it do? Read her thoughts? Track her location? Explode if she tried to escape?
She'd never worn magic against her skin. It felt cool, and almost reassuring.
Ruby played with the levers in the shower stall. There were three of them, one for the typical head which grew from the front wall, one for the hidden spray from the ceiling overhead, and the last directed the spray through the hidden spouts along the sides. No less than a dozen bottles of soaps and shampoos lined the glass shelves up one corner. Some were cheap knock offs, others were pricy-looking stuff.
Someone loved this shower and Ruby saw why. With the spouts all going Ruby sat on the bench and felt pretty sure no one could hear her cry.
Crying came automatically. She'd suppressed the pain for so long. Phineas had tried to block the pain in her hands. But pain was fuel to Ruby. Pain kept her going when people crushed her hands and wired her mouth closed. When they starved and beat her. When she was tired and lost. Pain helped her stay, and feel, alive.
But sometimes it was too much.
She'd been liberated from a cage and a shitty owner by a handsome monster who had her healed, but then took her to a lavish, pretty cage in the middle of the biggest monster nest on the continent.
Her tears hit the messy point, where snot filled her head and emotions burned her throat raw. The glass slid open and her vampire, dressed in silk pants and nothing else, came inside. The spray soaked him, running down his marble-carved skin. He didn't seem to care.
At first he sat next to her on the bench. But when she didn't flinch away he put an arm around her and she couldn't help herself. Another warm body next to hers, not crying or forcing itself on her. Just there.
It felt so human.
He held her until she sniffle-snorted herself to a stop. Then he spoke, nearly too quiet to hear in the noise of the water droplets hitting the tile. "Vanessa. I loved her. She wasn't my pet, she was my companion, my lover. My everything. The witches were running the tests to determine if her genetics were compatible with vampirism.
"It's genetic and magic, you know. You have to have the right genes when you are bitten to turn, otherwise you just die.
"I had proposed. Whether she was going to turn or not she was going to be my partner for the rest of her life.
"And then, two nights ago someone here, one of my peers, killed her."
"But what do you want from me?" Ruby asked.
"I want you to tempt the killer back out so I can kill them myself."
She was bait. A noise slipped from her lips, something between a sob and a laugh. "You want me to be bait. You want them to try to kill me."
He didn't lie. "Yes."
"You expect me to die for you. For her."
He looked unhappy. "It would be ideal if you did not."
This time she did laugh. "Why me?"
He stayed quiet for a long moment. "Because you looked like you'd be hard to kill."
He gently pulled her to her feet and deeper into the spray. He could have forced her or compelled her, but he didn't. She could have fought, but she didn't.
He pulled a soap puff from the shelf and poured a generous dollop from a random bottle. With firm but gentle hands he began scrubbing her clean. If a shower could wash away the past it would have been this one.
His hands paused at the silver scars, just long enough for her to notice. One at her collarbone, another at the thick part of her hip. The third sat on her right wrist. The fourth was at the front of her left hip and the last on her calf. It was only after she was clean, and the glorious shower was quieted, that he brought them up again.
"Where did you get those," he asked, wrapping her up in a warm towel.
"I earned them," Ruby told him. She looked right into his eyes. "I cut those brands off me every time I escaped. I earned them."
"And that, my dear Vixen, is why I chose you to join me in my war."