The days of the week trickled by in idleness. Selene felt every action was anti-climactic after the realisation that had changed everything for her, that had shaken her awake. She wandered about the house, her heart beating frantically at every sound or step, hoping, desperately hoping, that it would be Hector. It never was.
She made an effort to act normally around Xander, and spoke to him every day. At first their conversation was stilted, rendered unnatural by what had passed between them, but he too made an effort to normalize matters: not once did he mention Diana, or the awful secret he had exposed. But despite their efforts, any attempt to ignore it was in vain: it floated between them, a wordless knife tearing them apart, preventing any real bond forming. Yes, they laughed and smiled, and talked for hours, but each was wearing an unseen armour.
And when Xander laughed, and when he smiled, a sad twinge pulled at Selene, making her wish the face she looked upon belonged to someone else.
Late one evening, only a few nights after Xander had sliced into his own flesh, Selene crept out of his room, unlocking the door with a key she had been given by one of the Varks, and made her way down the stairs, tiptoeing along the corridor, feeling the plush red carpet squeeze between her toes with every step. There was a hum of nocturnal life in the house, of Varks and Vampires moving about, carrying on with their mundane activities. The curtains in the hall were open, allowing the moon to brush every surface with its pale glow. Suddenly a scream pierced the almost-silence and Selene halted, crouched, gripping the banister with one hand.
The sound had come from Io, Hector's bedroom, and Selene moved towards the door, her heart hammering in her chest, moving its way up her throat, choking her. She pressed a hand against the door and rested her ear against it. She could hear Hector inside, murmuring, his voice incomprehensible through the thick wood that separated them. It was the closest she had knowingly been to Hector in days, and she let her cheek slide gently to the surface of the wood, as though it had been his skin she pressed against.
The girl's screams continued, staccato-ing up and down, high and low, as Hector inflicted pain. Selene could her the sound of blows, blunt thumping sounds, dulled by the soundproofing of the door and walls.
Selene gasped and took a step back from the door, suddenly realising who was inside. Lorna. She was one of Hector's other girls, and it was her eighteenth birthday that day. Selene couldn't believe she had forgotten; she had been in such a daze the past few days that anyone other than herself, Hector, and Xander had ceased to exist.
Lorna was only a serving girl; she didn't have a Vampire-facing role in society, and Selene had never considered her a threat, or competition in any way; not that she had ever really thought of the girls like that until now. Lorna was small and scrawny, almost like a child, and her nose was permanently red as though she had a cold.
Selene scraped her nails down her bare arms, digging them into the epidermis, reprimanding herself for having forgotten.
Of course there are other girls. Of course he sleeps with them, bites them, makes them do whatever he wants.
She screwed up her face as the thoughts ran through her mind, and a worm of pain raised its head.
The girls were forbidden from discussing what Hector did to them in private. He had made that secrecy a law in his own home, and as a result the girls looked at one another suspiciously, unable to become friends, and could never form alliances. The threat of the Grand Chamber, Central Control and the Bleedings loomed between them at all times.
The door of the bedroom swung open and Selene tripped backwards, pressing herself against the banister. Lorna came flying out as though she had been thrown, and landed on all fours, her hands grimy with blood and her hair a dark and knotted halo around her head. She was whining like an animal that had been kicked by its owner, and lifted one of her hands limply to wipe her mouth. Her white nightdress was ripped; shredded into ribbons, dangling about her bare knees which were covered in carpet burns. Blood stained the white gown as it trickled down her thighs and from the puncture wounds in her neck.
Selene's immediate impulse was to run to her, to put her arms around her, but instead she pressed her lips together and stood still, holding onto the railing behind her with an arm outstretched on either side. Moments later Hector stepped out into the corridor, his previously impeccable shirt torn, a wound on his own chest healing even as Selene stared at it, the skin moving and closing over, each edge of the wound binding with the other. His shirt was also reddened with blood, but whether it was his own or Lorna's, Selene couldn't tell. He wiped his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand and glanced at the tiny girl at his feet.
But only for a second. Then he lifted his head, his hair damp with sweat, and looked at Selene.
"What are you doing here?" His fists were clenched, hanging at his sides like impotent weapons.
"I was -"
"Take her back downstairs," he said, kicking Lorna who squealed and curled up, tucking her knees further beneath her chest, rolling into a tighter ball.
Selene moved without hesitation now, lifting Lorna to her feet as though she were as soft and light as creamed butter, but the girl was awkward and her limbs didn't want to move in the right way. They were like twigs that had no articulated joints and Selene struggled to manipulate her into motion, deliberately avoiding looking at Hector. He was closer to an animal than a man in that moment, and she couldn't bear it.
"Selene," he said, causing her to pause. She held her breath, her strength exhausted in moving Lorna. She looked straight ahead without turning to acknowledge him, focusing on the stairs that would lead her away from him.
"Yes."
"Go back to the theatre. Diana has requested you."
At Diana's name Selene felt her stomach tighten, a vicious serpent writhing within her. She nodded, and, supporting Lorna's quivering body, descended to the basement.
*
She took Lorna to the dormitory that she shared with the other girls. It was cramped and the beds were small and close together, although the sheets were good quality and always clean. Between each bed was a small bedside table with one drawer in it and a cupboard below, although Selene wasn't sure what the girls would keep in there; they had so few personal possessions. As she looked around she was glad she didn't have to sleep there, despite the fact that having her own bedroom meant the other girls treated her with contempt, jealous of the special treatment she received.
Fortunately most of the girls were either sleeping or out at work, and those that weren't paid no attention to Selene as she laid Lorna down on the only free bed in the room, and sat down next to her.
"Thank you," Lorna murmured through swollen and bloodied lips.
As Selene looked at her lying on the bed, she pitied the girl, with her bird-like features. She stroked her face and moved the hair that was plastered to her clammy cheeks.
"You'll feel better tomorrow."
"Did he bite you too?"
Selene was unsure how to respond. She was shocked by the fact that the other girls didn't know that Hector hadn't touched her; they assumed the deed had been done.
"No."
"He didn't make you drink his blood?" Lorna's eyes widened, her lashes flashing between her tears.
Selene didn't want to answer the question, but Lorna's face was pleading. The image of Hector's wounded chest flickered through Selene's mind, so she forced her brain to work on physical action instead and pressed her hand to Lorna's forehead, checking to see if she was feverish.
"No," she answered, finally.
"Oh." Lorna fell silent, and moved her head away from Selene's touch.
"Why do you ask?"
"He said he does it to everyone, that it's part of our initiation. The exchange of blood connects us to him. After it's done he can see what I see, feel what I feel. We are bound together forever: I can never escape him now. It cures the wounds too."
Selene felt the words like a blow to her body: Hector had rejected her completely, and yet he had taken this tiny bird-child to his bed, and bound her to him forever. But she forced herself to speak:
"Try not to think about it. When you feel better you can have a shower. You should sleep." Selene noticed that the wounds on Lorna's neck seemed to have healed, almost as rapidly as the wound on Hector's chest had done; the blood was dark and crusted over, and on her lips it ran in dark patches too. Even as Selene watched the swelling in Lorna's face became less pronounced.
The visible high-speed healing of the skin was horrific and Selene swallowed deeply and turned her head aside.
Did it make it alright to injure someone, if you could heal them too? Inflict pain, if you could take it away again? Hector had tortured this girl; there were marks around her wrists and ankles, and even her neck, fading now, that suggested he had bound her, and bound her tight.
Selene watched for a moment as Lorna closed her eyes and turned on her side to sleep, grimacing as she moved over a tender spot. Selene rose from her seated position and walked down the corridor to her own room to gather the things she needed for the theatre.
She grabbed her bag, an over-sized leather satchel, and began to throw stuff inside it: make-up, hair brush, costume, dancing shoes. She knew she was moving rapidly so as to prevent her mind from thinking too much, but she couldn't help it. She was unnerved; Hector had treated Lorna cruelly and it was vile; unexpected even. But there was a voice in her head that kept asking over and over again: why not me? And the thought alone repulsed her; she knew it was wrong, twisted, abhorrent.
But she had no control over the feelings and thoughts that roared in her mind. Not only had Hector not slept with her, he had not bitten her. He had never tasted her blood. She was now certain he must feed off the other girls, drinking their blood regularly, and feeding them his own to cover his tracks.
She understood completely: the other girls were fully initiated. The ritual of drinking the owner's blood served to complete their enslavement. To know that no action or thought was private; that Hector could see everything they could see, feel everything they could feel, was terrifying, a violation of everything it meant to be human. But in a strange way, that unity with Hector was what Selene desired most.
She pressed the contents of her bag down with palm and splayed fingers, and flicked the lid over and fed the leather thongs into the buckles, pulling them so tight the bag would have squealed if it had had a voice.
*
"Not like that Selene! Concentrate!" Diana was stressed, and scratched at her face as though the action might sort out the dancers' deficiencies, or at least relieve some of the discomfort she evidently felt at watching their incompetent movements. "For blood's sake, what has happened to your feet? You move like an oaf. If you don't get it together I'll have to replace you in the dance. Jackie or Cecily could easily takeover, isn't that right?"
Jackie and Cecily nodded, but neither one looked overly keen. The lead dance role was intense, demanding, and neither one would have been truly prepared for it. And Selene was far more talented than they were, although they would never have admitted it.
Eventually Diana signalled that the rehearsal was over, and the girls were free to leave. Selene dragged her tired feet over the star-covered stage and knelt down beside her bag. She opened it and pulled a small towel from inside, and wiped the sweat from her face. She held the towel over her eyes and pressed it down, appreciating the moment of darkness despite the hubbub of the other dancers that floated around her.
"How's our little virgin?" Asked Jackie, sidling up to where Selene crouched and pulling down the seat of the chair in the front row. She sat down with a creak and propped her elbows on her knees and leant forward so she was almost head-to-head with Selene.
Selene stood up, refusing to even acknowledge Jackie's existence, hefted her bag onto her shoulder and turned away. Then she walked quickly across the stage and down the stairs behind the curtain.
"Oh Selene, don't take it to heart so!" Jackie laughed and followed Selene's twisting path through the narrow backstage corridors.
"Look Jackie, can you just leave me alone?" She spoke as she walked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
"But Selene, I find you fascinating. I can't leave you alone."
They were halfway up the staircase to Selene's dressing room when Selene, a few steps above, turned to face Jackie, looking down upon her. The old wooden staircase creaked as they shifted their weight, muscles ready to spring like lions in the grasslands. Selene felt the crumbling of the cream paintwork beneath her hand as she reached out to steady herself against the wall.
"Why?"
"You and Hector: what is that? It's not normal you know. I can tell by the way he looks at you. You're more than just a slave to him. We all know it. But what I don't understand -" she paused and sighed, her exhalation like a threat as she moved up a step, almost eye-to-eye with Selene. She inched closer until Selene could feel her breath on her face, and then she whispered, "is why."
Selene pushed her with all her might, pressing both palms flat against Jackie's chest. Jackie lost her footing and slipped down several of the steps, her feet clattering like wooden spoons in a kitchen, and Selene worried for a second that she would fall and break her neck. To murder another human was illegal, especially if they had a powerful owner who would seek vengeance for the destruction of their property.
"Who owns you?" Selene shouted, following her down the stairs. Jackie backed away when she reached ground level. "Who is your owner? Don't they want to fuck you? Who is it? Where did you come from?" Selene was beginning to scream, but the screams weren't truly related to this particular interaction. They merely served to release a tension that had been building up for weeks.
"Wow, Hector really needs to take you in hand. Look at all this repressed sexuality that's festering inside you; I've never seen a girl who needs a fuck as much as you do." Jackie waved her arms about, encapsulating the whole of Selene's body as she did so, her eyebrows rippling like independent creatures. She began to laugh and Selene felt a lump rise in her throat, so large and painful that she was sure she couldn't push it back down.
"What's going on?"
Diana stepped into the small space, and behind her some of the other dancers bobbed about, anxious to see what was happening, crammed into the tiny corridor. Selene could make out Cecily just over Diana's left shoulder.
"Selene wants to know who my owner is," said Jackie.
"Is that so?" Diana stepped towards Selene and grabbed her chin with a grip so tight it was like a crab's claw, her long nails pricking like pincers. "Why is it of interest to you?"
Selene shook her head, attempting to get the hot fingers from her face.
"I-"
"She's mine." Diana hissed and released Selene, pushing her back against the opposite wall. "Oh, and Selene, do try and mind your own business. What I do with my humans is of no concern to you."