Sloane Briallen

The walls were painted a soft blue, the linoleum floor that mottled grey and white you saw in hospitals. 

I sat in a small bedroom, a bed up against one wall across from an oak dresser and TV.  A sliding glass door opened up to a cute desert garden.  Another door led to a bathroom, and another a closet.  It was tidy and smelled like the bouquet of pink roses lying on the bed next to me.

I wore a pair of shorts and a tank top, dark brown hair held back from my face by clips.  Sweat dripped from my temples.  Nursing homes were always so hot.

My grandmother sat in a wheelchair next to the bed, weathered hands clasped gently in her lap, a smile brightening up her heavily lined face.  She wore a pink sweater over blue jeans and bunny slippers I had gotten her for Christmas.  Her eyes were bright green, like the stems of daisies.  My mother always said I got my eyes from her, even though I was pretty sure my mother had the same eyes.

“Did I ever tell you about living in Chicago, my treasure?”  Nowadays, Mummi only spoke in Finnish.

I shook my head.

Her face darkened.  “Those were dark times.  I left Sweden to escape the war.  I was afraid the Nazis would come marching through all of Europe, and I would be thrown into a war.”

“So, you left to the US?”

“I did.  And I met the most amazing man.”

I brightened, grinning wide.  “Ukki?”  My grandfather.

She smiled gently.  “No, my love.  Another man.”

I paused, brow knitting in confusion.  Mummi had been with someone before Ukki?

“I spent a lot of time with him.  Got to know his siblings.  Got to know him.  I was very fond of him.”  Her gentle smile turned bitter.  “He loved me more than I deserved.  And probably more than he should have—we didn’t really know each other long enough.”

“Did you love him?”

She thought about that for a second before saying, “In a way.  Not in a way he deserved—he deserved more.”

The confusion did not get better.  What did it mean to love someone like that?  “Why did you break up?” I asked, trying to understand.

Mummi chuckled.  “So blunt, Sloanie.”

I blushed in embarrassment.  People at school told me I was too loud.  But I wanted the answer, and Mummi knew it.  She looked around conspiratorially before leaning in towards me.  “Can you keep a secret, Sloanie?” she asked.

I nodded, grinning.  Mummi had a mischievous streak, and she always used to involve me in her shenanigans, both before and after the wheelchair.  Before the wheelchair, we used to play pranks on my mom.  After the wheelchair, the hijinks revolved a lot more around pretending the wheelchair was impassably stuck in front of other nursing home residents that Mummi didn’t like.

“He was a vampire,” she whispered.  “And I couldn’t let him turn me into one, too!”

I rolled my eyes, letting out a huge, exasperated sigh.  “Mummi!  Don’t tease me.”

Mummi smiled.  “I’m sorry, Sloanie.  I love to play with you.”

“Mummi, why could you really not stay with him?”

“We weren’t right for each other.  His mother didn’t approve, and my family didn’t either.  We had to break up.”

I frowned.  “What was his name?”

“Karhi.”

My head hit the pillow with the sun past midday and I opened my eyes to . . . what time was it?

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table to see that it was 11:01 AM on the next day.

I blinked hard, staring at the phone as if the numbers would change.

11:02.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, scrubbing my hair back from my face. 

When was the last time I had dreamt about my grandmother?  Not in years.  Not even after Karhi turned me and I figured out who he was.

In retrospect, that story must have been painful for Mummi.  All of her smiles had to have to been sad.  She said she was teasing me, but she hadn’t been.  It had been real. 

I knew Karhi still had feelings about that whole deal.  It must have been a whirlwind romance or something.  I honestly had never really wanted to know.

I shook my head to clear it of those thoughts.  It didn’t matter right now.

I checked my phone.  I had a couple texts.  One from Mira and one from Karhi.  They both said they were driving out with the king and queen and would be back closer to midnight. 

No more texts from Mickey and none from Bell or the others.  I hated how that made my chest ache.  What the hell was I even expecting?  Apologies?  Pleas for forgiveness?

Some profession of love?

I clucked my tongue in annoyance, getting out of bed.  Fuck them.  I didn’t need whatever fucking begging I seemed to be looking for.  I didn’t need them.

I got out of bed, stalking towards the bathroom.  The door alerted me to how hard I had thrown it by slamming against the wall.  But neither the door nor the wall suffered any damage.

Right.  Probably some sort of reinforced something-or-other material because this entire castle was filled with vampires.

The bathroom was also nautical-themed.  The walls were blue, painted with white seashells, pink sand dollars, and red starfish.  A mirror with a frame painted with dark blue anchors hung over the sink, the cabinets beneath the sink painted the same blue as the anchors.  Lights were recessed into the ceiling above.

There was a jacuzzi tub made for at least two people opposite the door.  Close to the door was a stall shower with a rain faucet in the ceiling.  It was like Karhi’s bathroom back in the Cities.

I pulled off my clothes and stepped into the shower.  As a human, I hadn’t ever really cared for showering or bathing.  I had more valuable things to do with my time.

As a vampire, though, showers were often the only way that I felt any sort of gradient in cold and hot.  They had become therapeutic, a way to ground myself and feel something.

By the time I was out of the shower, the mirror was completely fogged over, the air damp with steam.  I felt more like myself than I had in the past three days. 

Fuck the entire Blackthorne family.  Fuck the vampires that had tried to hurt me.  Fuck December.  I wasn’t going to be this whining, sniveling thing anymore.  I had gotten through worse than this.  I was going to be fucking normal.

I rummaged through the drawers that Aoife had indicated held clothes for me.  I found black jeans and a black scoop neck sweater.  Perfect.  There were knee high leather boots.  Even.  Fucking.  Better.  

I laced them over my jeans before checking myself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door.  Something caught my eye and I looked to see that, amongst the hanging slacks and blouses, there was a black leather jacket.

“Fuck yes,” I whispered to myself, grabbing it and shrugging it on.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I zipped the jacket halfway.  The grin I gave myself was almost feral.

I looked dangerous.

I put my phone in my back pocket, grabbed a new pack of cigarettes and the Zippo lighter worth more than some small cars, and headed out.

I didn’t have a destination in mind.  I thought about maybe returning to lurking on the breezeway but ultimately threw it out.  There was a lot of the fun gossip in the castle to be heard up there, but I didn’t want to be discovered again.  This time, maybe by someone less friendly than Aoife.

I followed the path that Aoife had taken me through.  We had been at Amara’s room, so it may have not been the most direct, but I at least knew it would lead me outside.

I was just at Amara’s room when I heard heated voices.  I paused, debating whether to find a new route or risk it when I heard my name.

“ . . . that woman, brother.  Sloane, or whatever her name is.”  My name was said in a hiss.  It took me no time to place the voice as Saeran’s.

“Saeran, it’s hardly any of your business what measures my husband and I take to ensure my safety.”  That was Alice.

“Husband?  Did you two get married while I wasn’t looking?”  Saeran’s tone was casual and forced.  As if he was trying to pretend that he didn’t care.  “Shame I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

“The wedding is in June,” a new, male voice said.  “We’ve been living together for going on four years, Saeran.  Referring to each other as spouses really isn’t that outlandish.”

“Yes.  Four years—that’s quite a long time for a human, is it not?”

“Really?  Trying to insult my age, Saeran?”  She wasn’t even that old, right?  Maybe in her early thirties?

“Until you’ve married into this family, it is ‘your highness’ to you, Miss Costa.”

“I’ll call you ‘your highness’ the day I stick my foot—”

“Saeran, if you have nothing more to say, please let us be on our way.  We have an audience with General Faren soon.”

“Ah, yes, you would have a meeting with that—”

Alice cut him off.  “Don’t want to know what offensive thing you’re going to say, so goodbye.”  And then I heard footsteps walking away.

And I realized that I would be in Saeran’s direct line-of-sight if he went the opposite direction of Alice and her husband.

A door maybe two feet in front of me opened.  Amara poked her head out—right, this was her room—and beckoned me inside with a quick, urgent fluttering of one hand.

I bolted in and the door closed before Saeran could see me.  Amara closed the door just as I heard someone turn the corner making a disgusted noise.

Thanks, I mouthed.

“Oh, there’s a silencing spell on my room,” Amara said.  “I can hear what’s going on outside, but no one can hear into here.  Helps with privacy when you’re a human dealing with vampires.”

“Oh, that’s . . . han . . . dy . . .”  I trailed off, looking around the room.

I might as well have been in a whole ass house.  Like my own room, the stone walls and floors that made up the rest of the castle were missing here.  The floors were laid with tan wood and the walls were plastered or dry-walled or whatever that smooth-wall look was.  The walls were painted a pale grey with an accent strip of purple running across the middle all the way around.

The entryway had a shoe rack and a coat stand, both loaded with winter clothes and boots.  Four steps led down into a living room with a black suede sectional facing a wall with a TV mounted on it.  Speakers were set up on each wall, allowing for surround sound.

Four steps on the opposite side of the living room led to a dining room and an open granite-topped kitchen.  The entire back wall was filled with windows with floor-to-ceiling blinds.

On either side of the living room were steps leading to other rooms.

“Holy fuck,” I said, looking around.  There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling above the dining room table.  The living room had recessed lighting.  There was fucking crown molding.

“This is nothing.”  Amara waved it all off.  As she did, I noticed for the first time that she had a lot of rings on her fingers.  There was one on every single finger, including her thumbs.  Some of them even had more than one ring stacked.  Most of them were filled with different-colored gems.  A few were just regular silver and gold.  One of them was definitely a Changer, a piece of magic jewelry that allowed her to shapeshift so that her clothes molded to her form.

I realized I had missed what she said while staring at the rings.  “What?”

If she thought it was weird that I had zoned out, she didn’t show it.  “This is nothing.  You should see my chambers in the main castle.”

If this was nothing—a whole house in a fucking castle—then I didn’t know if I wanted to see her regular living quarters. 

“Thanks for the hide,” I said, my hand going back toward the handle of the door.  “He should be gone.”

“Wait,” Amara said, reaching out to my hand but stopping just short of touching it.  She bit the inside of her lip before saying, “Uh—have you been here before?”

I furrowed my brow.  “What?  Like this castle?”

Amara nodded.  She wasn’t meeting my gaze.  Why was she suddenly so awkward?

“No,” I shook my head, hand still on the handle.  “I’ve heard about it, but never been here.”

“Same.  This is my first time.  Um . . . I was going to explore.  If you . . . wanted to go together?”  She glanced up at me before looking away.  Spots of color appeared on her cheeks.

Oh.  So that’s how it was.  I found a grin unfurling despite myself.  “What if we come across Prince Asshat?”

She shrugged.  “Hazel would probably tear him in half if he touched me.  At the very least, she would dethrone him.”

I knew how valuable anthroshifters were to anyone who could lock one down.  I was simultaneously amazed that someone could lose an entire empire because of one, but also, their power was . . . well, for one, inimitable.  My understanding was that there were some mages who could do it—but it required a lot of magic and a lot of skill.  And while anthroshifter magic had its own bounds of what was physically possible, they weren’t very well-defined.

But I wasn’t supposed to know she was an anthroshifter.  So, I played dumb. “Why?”

She smiled mysteriously.  “It’s a secret.”  Her honey-colored eyes glinted.

I raised an eyebrow before shrugging.  “Alright, keep your secrets.  If you’re confident I’m in safe company, I would be glad to explore with you.”  It was something to do other than skulking around, trying to hide from Saeran.

Also, she was cute.

“So, what did you do to piss off Prince Dickhead?” she asked, grabbing a black coat from the coat stand and putting it on.

I shrugged one shoulder, opening the door into the hallway.  I still smelled the cypress and gin from his cologne.  Did he fucking bathe in it?  “While Aoife was settling you yesterday, I had the misfortune of making his acquaintance.  He didn’t like that I wasn’t getting on my knees to grovel at his feet.”

“Or just getting on your knees,” she said, locking the door before putting her keys in her pocket.  She set off in the direction I had originally heard Saeran arguing with Alice and, presumably, Cyly.  They were gone, of course, and we continued towards the exit of the building.

I snorted.  “Oh, is he one of those assholes?”

“If he can’t cow you or fuck you, then you’re a persona non grata.”

“Sounds like either way, he likes to dominate.”

She tapped her nose and pointed at me.  “You got it.  He’s an asshole with everyone and tries to come on to most people he comes across.  I will say, he doesn’t really discriminate on age, race, or anything else.  And that’s probably the only positive thing I can say about him.”

“Interesting,” I said, holding the door to the breezeway open for her.  “‘Indiscriminate fucker’ would not have been on my bingo card for him. It would have just been ‘fucker’.”

She passed me and waited until I had stepped through the door to continue.  “My understanding is he doesn’t tend to go for men.  But anyone else is fair game.”

“Huh,” I said.  “And you?”

She glanced up at me through her eyelashes.  They were long.  “And me?”

“Are you . . . discriminate?”  I winked.

“Yeah,” she said, looking away.  Her ears were red.  “In the exact same way.  Men are special exceptions.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” she squeaked, eyes very purposefully looking ahead.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

“How long have you worked for the Ruaidhrís?” I asked.  We had made it out of the Royal Building and gone into the Rest Of The Castle.  There was a lot more traffic here—servants holding trays or scurrying with papers, parents chasing after children, children chasing after children.  It was lively and booming, like a dormitory or something.  A huge, vampire-filled dormitory. 

The stone walls and floors continued to pervade the hallways, but rooms opening into the hallways showed a variety of interior designs, with plaster, brick, stucco, and even wood in one case.  It was like the castle had been built of stone as a base, and everyone got their individual says in what they wanted for their rooms (or in one case, a classroom).  It was probably the nightmare of an interior designer somewhere. 

“A few years,” Amara replied.  She sidestepped a kid running in the hall, a woman shouting after him that he needed to come back.  “You?”

“Oh, I don’t work for them,” I said.  “I’m here for other reasons.”

“Other reasons?”

“It’s a secret.” 

She smiled at me throwing her words back at her.  “Fair enough.  How long have you known them?  You have to be kind of a big deal to end up in the Royal Wing with the rest of us.”

I glanced at her incredulously.  “Wait, is it really called that?”

“‘The Royal Wing’?”  At my nod, she snorted.  It was a soft, delicate sound that made her nose wrinkle adorably.  “No.  It has some long name in Irish.  But that’s what everyone calls it in English.”

“I’ve been calling it the Royal Building.”

“Close enough,” she shrugged.  She twisted a ring on one hand.  “Who do you know in the family?”

“Not so much who I know as who I’m related to.  But I’ve known Aoife since before I became a vampire.”

“How long have you been a vampire?  You feel pretty young.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her.  “You feeling me, Amara?”

She flushed, looking away.  She looked like a tomato.  “No, I—wait, I meant—”

I threw my head back, laughing.  “I’m screwing with you.  I’ll be hitting a year soon.”

She glared at me, her ears still red.  But even with her glare, she couldn’t hold eye contact with me for longer than a second before looking away. 

Before I could stop myself, I said, “You’re really cute, you know that?”

She covered her face with her hands and made a noise that sounded like when you let air out of a balloon by pinching the opening tight without tying it off.  I tilted my head, bringing my face level with hers as we walked but tried not to crowd her in too much.

She glared at me over her fingers.  “Is this fun for you?”

“Immensely.”  I looked her up and down.  “But . . . you’re also not moving away.”

She stopped, and I stopped with her.  She looked up at me, the blush all the way up to her ears.  “I’m not,” she said.  “What are you going to do about it?”

I paused.  I hadn’t expected that sort of challenge from her.  But I couldn’t stop the grin that quirked up.  I took a tentative step towards her.  Her eyes stayed on mine—fierce and challenging but overlaid with that blush.  She didn’t move away.

I reached up to rest the tips of my fingers on her cheek.  A thrill of excitement shot down my spine at the contact.  Her skin was soft, the sensation sparkling across my fingers like a gentle fizz.  She smelled like something flowery, peonies or water lilies.

She looked up at me, not backing down.  Her lips were like a doll’s: small, almost puckered, and full.  They were parted in what may have been anticipation.

I pulled away, chuckling.  “Just kid—”

Amara grabbed the collar of my jacket with both hands and pulled me down.  Our mouths crashed together, and I made a noise of surprise, eyes wide.  Her eyes were scrunched shut, and her mouth was pursed tight.

I brought both hands up to cup her jaw, fingers brushing her hair, and I kissed her back.  I closed my eyes, and she relaxed against me, the purse of her lips easing into something softer.  I opened my mouth against hers, but I didn’t push any further.  I had been pretty heavy-handed with the flirting.  I didn’t want to overdo it with someone who flustered easily.  I had a feeling she was pretty inexperienced.

She loosened her grip on my jacket, hands easing against my shoulders.  Her tongue pressed into my mouth.  She tasted faintly of oranges.  Breakfast, maybe.  And she was so warm, almost a furnace, like most shifters.

“Oooh, Amara, get it!”

Amara jerked away from me.  Her absence was cold against my face, and I growled in annoyance, looking up to the source of the interruption.

Devlin and the other man I had seen with him and Alice the day before stood before us.  Devlin was the one who had spoken.  I realized we had stopped close to a set of stairs.  Further down the hall was a heavy door leading outside.

Like most vampires, they each wore clothes inappropriate for the weather.  They were in jeans, sneakers, and short sleeved shirts.  The Asian-Irish man even had a hint of flesh showing between his shirt and his pants.

I didn’t know if I was supposed to know who these men were.  I knew because of my creeping the day before, but I didn’t know how high profile they were in general.  Safer to play dumb.  “Can I help you?”

“You’re the one sticking your tongue down Amara’s throat in the middle of the entrance to the castle,” the Irish man shot back, lip curled in the start of a sneer.

“Correction: Amara was sticking her tongue down my throat.  I’m a gentleman, and I let others make the second move after I initiate the first.”

Amara’s head swiveled back so fast to look at me that I was surprised I didn’t hear a crack.  “Sloane!” she squeaked.  She was so read that she was almost purple.

I winked at her before looking back at the two men.

The sneer disappeared from the Irish man’s face, replaced with a look of surprise.  Devlin looked just as surprised.

“You’re Sloane?” the Irish man asked, the incredulity in his voice bordering on mockery.

I put a hand on my waist, standing to my full height and cocking my head at him.  “Yes.  And you are?”

Devlin smacked the man and hissed something at him in Irish.  From the limited amount I knew in Irish, I was pretty sure he said, play nice.  Aoife had taught me a little bit years back when she found out how good I was with languages.  Devlin looked up at me.  “Sorry, my partner is a bit prickly around new vampires in the castle.”

I raised an eyebrow, looking between them.  I didn’t reply, waiting for them to introduce themselves.

“I’m Devlin,” he said.  He tilted his head toward the other man.  “This is Fiachra.”  As he moved, the sleeve of his shirt rode up just enough for me to see black ink on his skin.  Script letters.  I saw two rows of words and the hint of a third further up his sleeve.  The top said The Johnsons, and the second said The Roe-Harrisons.  Family names.  I didn’t recognize the names, but I recognized the tattoos.  I’d seen them before.  Annie kept her list on the bottom of an old shoe.  I had kept mine in a sketchbook I got when I was twelve.

I pointed to Devlin’s tattoos with the hand not on my waist.  “How many?” I asked.

Devlin glanced at his arm as Fiachra snarled, “None of your business how many tattoos he has.”

I gave him a cool look before looking back at Devlin.  “Families,” I said.  His eyes widened only a little, but I saw his recognition.  “I was twenty in seven years.” 

He licked his lips before saying, “Four in two.”

I grimaced.  “That sucks.”  That averaged out to changing homes once every six months.

“Yours sucks more.”

I shrugged.  “I had a place to be, and it wasn’t in a stranger’s house.”

I more felt than saw his understanding.  Foster kids always found camaraderie with each other.

I could see from the way Fiachra’s mouth twisted that he didn’t know what we were talking about.  Nor did Amara.

“Well,” I said, looking at Amara.  “Shall we?”

I didn’t give Amara the chance to answer.  I headed straight for the wooden door.  She followed me without a word. 

We exited out into a courtyard bracketed on either side by the castle before giving way to houses inside of the walls surrounding the castle.  The snow here was hard packed from foot traffic.  Faintly I could smell manure on the air and hear goats bleating and horses whinnying.  Farm animals?

“What was that about?” Amara asked as the door closed behind us.

I glanced at Amara, biting at my top lip.  “How well do you know Devlin?”

She shook her head, putting her hands in the pockets of her puffy snow jacket.  “He’s only been here for about two years.  I don’t know too much about him.  My guess is that his turning was traumatic.  I hang out with him and Fiachra since they’re closer to my age whenever I’m here, which is probably a few times a year.  They’re tight with Alice, but I’m not as close to her.  I’ve known Fiachra the longest.”

“Devlin’s not a living vampire.”  It wasn’t a question.  I had been able to tell, standing as close to him as I was.

“No, he’s not.  He’s a human vampire like you.”

Interesting.  The memory of Devlin mentioning not knowing who his sire was flickered to the forefront of my mind.

“If he hasn’t told you, I’m not going to talk about it,” I said.  “That particular . . . experience, it can be tough to talk about.”

Amara studied me for a moment before nodding.  She looked around the courtyard.  “Shall we continue?”

“Making out?”

She scowled at me.  “Exploring.”

I shrugged one shoulder.  “Sure.”