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To Lay Low

[5 years later]

 

"Have you checked the slots, Hiln?"

 

Ion's question caused me to skid to a sudden halt. My shoes let out a final squeak as they gripped the polished floor of the verandah, bringing me to an abrupt pause. Ion, a few steps ahead, wore a look of unfortunate understanding as she registered my questioning gaze.

 

"Yes, I did this morning," I replied quietly, my voice barely audible. "Is something amiss?"

 

Rarely did anything go awry in our carefully orchestrated routine. And sudden changes were rarely a harbinger of good news. They held the potential to signify anything from disposing of a lifeless body to tending to an unexpected visitor from another castle.

 

"More or less," Ion whispered, shrugging her shoulders as the weight of the laundry basket in her arms shifted with her motion. Her crimson eyes flickered to the evening sky and back to me.

 

Her nerves were palpable, and that sent a shiver down my spine.

 

This did not bode well.

 

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I absentmindedly reached up to caress the tingling sensation.

 

"I met with Matadre today," Ion continued, her voice laden with unease. "The other servants will be returning to the castle tomorrow."

 

My pulse quickened ever so slightly and I struggled to contain the tremor coursing through my body as I focused on her words.

 

"That means..." I began, my voice trailing off, and Ion nodded slowly.

 

"It's a good thing you're retiring early," she interjected. "I still have my duties to finish before I can rest. Matadre has gone to inform the others. I'll make sure she knows I've relayed the message to you."

 

A tentative smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "I understand. Thank you."

 

Ion offered a slight nod and hurried away. "Goodnight, then," she murmured before vanishing around a corner, leaving me standing there with my racing heart.

 

Without a moment's hesitation, I sprang into action, hurtling through the boundless halls and down numerous flights of stairs until I reached one of the wings housing the servant quarters. I went straight to my room and swiftly locked the door behind me.

 

Within this expansive estate, housing only eleven servants, we were each afforded the luxury of having our rooms to ourselves. After all, the castle boasted an abundance of rooms beyond counting.

 

I sank onto the edge of my bed, clutching my chest and gazing out of the open window. The night sky painted a mesmerizing canvas of black, blue, and red hues, merging seamlessly overhead.

 

If all the servants were returning to the castle, that could only mean one thing—the arrival of every Lord.

 

I did not like this. I did not like this at all.

 

It was on a dark and foreboding evening much like this one, that I first laid eyes upon the Lords of the castle. The air held a biting chill, heavy with the scent of impending rain. I had snuck up to one of the overhanging balconies, accompanied by Becca, while our superiors departed the castle under the gleaming gaze of a crimson moon.

 

There they stood, five figures draped in the most opulent attire I had ever beheld—a testament to their lofty positions of power. Their dark suits, ruffled sleeves, and gleaming boots surpassed even the finery of the most esteemed town governors. Bathed in the eerie glow of the blood moon, they appeared ethereal, their commanding presence amplified by the translucent haze surrounding them. There was just one female among their ranks, her grace matched only by her otherworldly beauty and effortless poise.

 

Yet, it was one particular male who captured our attention the most. With a mane of striking red hair cascading down his back in sleek waves, he exuded a sense of cruelty that surpassed the harsh moonlight itself. As the Lords strode purposefully, he had stopped and titled his head, his gaze fixated in our direction.

 

Becca, quick-witted and nimble, had managed to duck out of sight. Though she could not completely elude his detection, it was good enough for her that she didn't have to face him. However, I wasn't as swift. I remained frozen in place. And while I couldn't see clearly enough and not too far either to make out minute details, I was certain our eyes locked.

 

Words cannot adequately describe the sheer dread and terror that consumed me in that fateful instant.

 

Even now, the memory of that evening sends a shiver coursing through my body. Since I began working within these castle walls, fortune had spared me from being assigned anywhere near the vampire Lords. The mere thought of being in proximity to their private wings rendered me immobile with fear. 

 

Then again, Irony had a peculiar way of weaving its threads. For it was my own decision to be surrounded by vampires.

 

"Hiln…" 

 

A muffled voice reached my ears, snapping me awake as it was followed by a gentle knock on my door. I sat up, my drowsiness slipping away as I looked at my window. It was even darker.

 

I might have been asleep for an hour or two.

 

"Becca?" I called out, making my way to the door and swinging it open. Her youthful face greeted me, and I couldn't help but smile, relieved to find that it wasn't Matadre, the head maid.

 

Becca's red eyes widened, her eyelashes fluttering with excitement. "Awake now, are we? What are you doing in bed? Heaven knows how many times I've called out to you." She bounced on her toes, brimming with energy. "Hurry out before Matadre comes looking for you."

 

I regarded her silently for a moment, perplexed. Then my panic started to mount. 

 

I woke up at the slightest sounds, how could she have been repeatedly calling me? 

 

Unless…

 

I reigned it in. Becca was one of them. She would notice the slip in my demeanour if I wasn't careful. And thankfully, something else occupied her mind.

 

I asked, "Why? I was informed that I had no further duties for the evening."

 

"No, no," she exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously, her cheeks and forehead flushed crimson. I couldn't help but notice the twinkle of anticipation in her voice.

 

Ah, this didn't bode well. It was highly likely that Becca was about to drag me into some misadventure. And what did Matadre have to do with it? My mind went to Ion's statement but I wasn't too sure. The Lords were coming tomorrow…

 

But what if they were here right now?

 

My face fell but Becca was too preoccupied with the skirts of her uniform to notice. 

 

Clutching the folds of her uniform, Becca continued, her words tumbling forth. "Lady Gremlin and Lord Fashire brought in fresh blood!" she exclaimed, giddy with excitement. "Pretty young things. We have to feed them."

 

I forced a smile, pushing down the repulsion threatening to surface on my face. This was nothing new. I should have grown accustomed to such matters over my five years of service within these walls.

 

Of course, it would have been possible for them to arrive tonight rather than tomorrow as expected.

 

"I'll be right down," I assured her, nodding my head. "Just give me a moment to get ready."

 

"Oh, alright!" Her smile widened, infectious in its enthusiasm. "I'll be waiting for you by the steps. Hurry!"

 

"Yes, yes. I'm coming," I groaned, closing the door shut.

 

Swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth, I approached the small basin on my bedside table. I knew the layout of my room from the back of my hand, hence I could easily navigate through the dark.

 

My eyesight had dwindled considerably as the effects of the potion were already wearing off.

 

The hunting of humans had long been abolished, yet it remained distressingly common for high-ranking vampires to acquire human 'pets' or, more accurately, 'blood bags.'

 

In the outside world, such practices were rare, almost unheard of. Little did I know, when I first entered this realm of vampires, that I would become entwined in their dark existence.

 

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and went to the bowl at my bed stand. Hunting of humans had long been abolished, but it was a very common occurrence for high-ranking vampires to buy human 'pets'… or in other words; 'blood bags'.

 

This was very rare for most of the vampires out there. And I thought it was no longer an issue until I became entwined in the depths of their dark world.

 

The world of the upper-class vampires.

 

These unfortunate people, considered lucky if they survived beyond a decade in the clutches of a vampire, were subjected to varying degrees of cruelty. While Lady Gremlin, in her own peculiar way, cared for her pet and kept him by her side throughout my stay here, he had succumbed to old age just last week. Hence, her acquisition of a new companion was hardly unexpected.

 

Lord Fashire, however, was a terrifying problem. His name alone struck fear into the hearts of all who crossed his path. A vampire of unparalleled horror, and the red-haired monster who had cast his menacing gaze upon me that ill-fated evening. Among the Lords who roamed the castle, he was the most ruthless and his notoriety extended far beyond the confines of the castle walls. Other households spoke of him, a whispered legend that permeated the darkest corners of the vampire realm.

 

I had heard the whispers, the rumours that circulated among the servants I worked alongside. Outlandish tales that both intrigued and terrified, painting a vivid portrait of the abominable Lord Fashire. They spoke of his ever-changing parade of pets, human playthings discarded like broken toys, replaced with alarming frequency. Rarely did any survive beyond a few weeks, their lives abruptly snuffed out on a whim.

 

I knew the other servants I worked with liked to gossip—some of them outrageous information—but I had met a pet of his once when I was out tending to Lady Gremlin's garden. It had taken my all not to cry out at the poor sight which had seared itself into my memory. The woman's emaciated frame had been sprawled upon the lush grass, her pallid skin drained of every drop of blood.

 

Shaking off the haunting imagery, I splashed cool water upon my face and hands, the mundane act serving as a feeble distraction from my wandering thoughts. Aware of my fading sense of hearing, I went into the bathing chamber, emptying the water into the porcelain sink, before retracing my steps to my sleeping quarters. With practised ease, I lifted the feathered mattress of my bed, revealing a hidden compartment where I pulled out the small vial. I took a sip of the crimson liquid and returned the vial to its secretive confines before resettling the mattress with a whisper of secrecy.

 

The urgency of the impending task at hand pressed upon me, and I rushed to the lavatory, pausing briefly to meet my gaze in the mirror's reflective surface. 

 

There, the fading red of my eyes flared to life once more, vibrant crimson hues replacing the dullness that had plagued them. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as my heightened senses returned, my hearing sharpening to its supernatural acuity.

 

I would need to head back to the village to get more potions from my aunt. This disguise would not hold indefinitely. The potion granted me a vampiric facade and bestowed upon me a handful of their abilities. Most importantly, they masked my true nature, concealing my 'human scent'.

 

 

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