Vampires rule our world, and demons haunt the shadows. The vampires come and go as they please, and we humans are little more than chattel. Our purpose is to serve them and to feed them. For the most part, we remain safe as long as we follow their laws they set forth, and keep our heads down, and remember our place.
We humans travel between villages on rare occasions, because getting caught outside after nightfall has deadly consequences. In the dark, we are playthings for whatever demons we are unlucky enough to cross paths with.
Once a year, during the claiming, the vampire court will come to our rundown village and demand a human, or several. Some even gladly go, willing to be servants to the monsters.
The thought of it sends a shiver crawling down my spine. No one knows what becomes of any of the claimed. Perhaps they do live in a world of luxury doting on their vampires, enjoying soft, comfortable plush beds at night. Or maybe they are nothing more than a snack for the long ride home, or worse. I can always imagine worse, but for now, I shove the thoughts aside.
A drop of water splatters on my cheek. It is the first sign of rain—real rain—after this endless bog of mist plaguing us all week. I think at this point, I’d rather be soaked through then perpetually damp.
Most shop owners are at the entrance, attempting to lure any and all passersby inside. The more desperate of them have spilled out onto the sidewalk, with makeshift booths.
Passing several, I lift a scarf from a woman too busy to notice me as she deals with a particularly unpleasant vendor. Then a cloak carelessly set aside by another. I turn the corner wrapping the cloak and scarf around me before anyone can notice the items are missing.
I shuffle through the crowd of villagers keeping my head down. I glance around, unable to shake the feeling that a shadow hovers just outside my peripheral. My shoulder bumps a man. He grunts rudely, muttering under his breath.
Giving him a simpering smile, I mutter my apologies to him as I place one hand on his arm, distracting him from the fact that my other hand is in his pocket pulling out his pathetically light bag of coins. I hadn’t meant to run into him. Usually, remorse presses down on my chest when I steal, though with the particularly nasty ones, the feeling is lessened when snatching up a pocket watch or lifting a bag of coin.
With a bag this light, it seems he spent most of his money trying to make himself look rich, or he’s too cheap to part with much when he deigns to visit this part of our little village.
As if any of us care about rich fabrics and ostentatious finery. A few citizens in Littlemire are lucky enough to enjoy a hot meal and a warm bed with enough legroom to stretch out every night. For the rest of us, a roof over our heads, enough coal to keep our homes heated against the worst of the chill, and a hot meal a few nights a week is the best we can hope for.
He starts to turn away, sneering at me, and I take the man’s antique watch for good measure.
I would never steal from someone struggling to get by, knowing the pain of going to bed hungry for far too many nights to inflict that kind of hardship on someone else. I’ve always made it a point to take only from those who can spare a little something without putting them in dire straights.
I glide away from him and lose myself in the crowd. A moment later, the man’s outcry cuts through the din of voices. “Someone stole my watch—my coin as well! Where did that thief go?”
Perhaps I was a little heavy-handed today—a little too greedy.
Having run out of our supply of salted meats and pickled vegetables, we are close to starving. It’s been all I could do for the last week to avoid Father’s temper. Always demanding money and food as if we were still rich.
Though I’m more likely to get caught, it looks as though I’ll have to pickpockets for at least the next week, possibly two. I’ll have to avoid hunting for game in the woods. I can’t let anything connect me to the death of that monster. To get caught would be instant death by the closest vampire… and it will not be a good death.
I duck into the nearest alley and crouch behind some boxes and wait until the furious man gives up looking for me.
I still can’t shake the feeling that a shadowy presence is hovering, watching, waiting to pounce. It stalks close behind, breathing down my neck. I spin to look back and catch whoever or whatever it is, but I’m alone.
Shame colors my cheeks. Shame and fear that the vampire has already been found. That I’ve already been discovered. That they will find me and demand my life in exchange for its cursed life. I scowl—a human life in exchange for that of a beast.
It is only hunger that drives me from hiding and into town.
But I’ve gotten rid of my bow and the arrows that could link me to what I’ve done. They will be buried deep under a mountain of garbage and rotted food by the end of the day. It’s a shame, I’ll have to buy more if I ever hope to hunt in the woods again.
Reaching up, I pull back my scarf and let my long, dark hair fall around my shoulders. I turn the scarf around, hiding the drab gray side and showing off the deep red of the other side. It will stand out just enough so that he can look me straight in the eye and still doubt it was me. After all, what thief in their right mind would wear such a color that would draw attention to them?
I take a deep breath and stand ready to move back out into the crowd. I think I have enough of a haul for today. I stick my hand into my pocket and pull out a few coins—just enough for a hot sweet roll or two. It’s a little decadent, but this week has been especially sparse. I’ll bring one home to Kathrine. She will enjoy the treat.
My mouth already waters at the thought of it—the warm, sweet bread, lightly coated with icing melting on my tongue.
The man continues making a scene a few stalls from where I emerge. I stroll on, taking my time as I pass each vendor until I get to the potter. A hand falls heavy on my shoulder, and I freeze. Not sure if I should fight, run, or play innocent.
Then a warm voice whispers close to my ear. “What has you looking so ruffled today, Clara?”
His fingers flick a lock of hair over my shoulder.
I turn to face Xander, giving him one of my rare but honest smiles. I shrug with one shoulder and let the back of my hand brush against his so that it would look like nothing more than an accidental contact to anyone paying attention. I long to hold his hand, or link arms, instead of hiding our affections to avoid a scandal.
“Just on my way to the baker,” I say casually, taking a few steps toward the patisserie. Xander sticks close to my side.
He gently elbows me. “Up to the usual then,” he says with a knowing smirk.
We both glance toward the center square, and the man I pickpocketed yelling even louder.
Xander jerks a thumb in the man’s direction. “I don’t suppose you happen to know what all that fuss is about, would you?”
“Not in the least,” I say, sniffing once, feigning offense and continuing on.
Together, we walk in silence past several more shop owners peddling their wares. “You need to be more careful,” he whispers.
I choose to ignore his warning. I’ll do this as long as I must to make ends meet and keep my family fed and clothed.
As we reach the patisserie, I inhale deeply. My stomach clenches at the sweet smells wafting from inside. “Do you want a sweet roll? It’s on me today.”
Then before I know what’s happening, he spins me into the alley and grabs my hips, pulling me to him. My chest is pressed up against his, and his arms wrap tightly around my waist. My back presses up against the rough, stone wall.
“Do you promise that it’s on you?” he practically purrs the words into my ear, sending a shiver down my body. His words make little sense, but the intended meaning shines clear in his tone.
“Why, Mr. Callowell! You are indecent,” I say in mock horror.
Up close, his hazel eyes shine, and I can see the smattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose.
I hastily swat at his arm and step to the side, freeing myself from his hold. Heat spreads across my cheeks, and his grin widens, happy he received the reaction he wanted from me.
“Don’t do that.” I bite the bottom of my lip and look around to see if anyone was watching. “What if someone sees?”
He groans and drops his head back, running a hand through his auburn hair in an unsuccessful attempt to smooth the mussed locks. “I don’t care what they think. You are mine, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.”
“But what if they tell your parents? They’ll never approve.”
“They’ll have no choice,” he murmurs sweetly, and wholly unconcerned. “After allowing each of my brothers to wed whomever they please, they will have to let me have my choice. And I choose you.” He looks stern. “You turned twenty-one months ago; you don’t have to stay at home anymore.” His face darkens at the thought of my situation.
He’s right. I could have left years ago.
But not really.
I could never forgive myself if I left Kathrine alone with Father and no one else to look after her.
Xander’s family is well off enough that I will never have to worry about Father again. I can escape him and live to a ripe old age with the man I love in peace. With Kathrine in my care, she will never have to worry about an empty belly ever again. And maybe I can finally get her the medicine she needs to be rid of her affliction once and for all.
“Come on,” I say, pulling him into the bakery with me. “Let’s get those sweet rolls.”
We go in and I gladly hand over the coins in exchange for two large pastries. Then the two of us retreat to the side of the building to enjoy our snacks. I savor each bite, forcing myself to go slow. Xander is finished by the time I have eaten half. I take out a handkerchief and wrap the remainder in it, then stuff it in my bag.
“How’s Kitty doing?” Xander asks, knowing exactly why I’m saving it.
I toe the ground with my mud-covered boot, kicking a pebble and watching it skitter away. Glancing up out of the corner of my eye, I say, “She’s struggling. The damp is making it harder for her to breathe.”
He nods. I adore him for asking because I know the subject makes him uncomfortable.
“I’d better get going,” I say, pushing away from the mist-slicked brick wall of the building.
I step out into the cobblestone street, but his hand catches mine and pulls me back.
“Meet me tomorrow night at the usual place?” he asks.
It’s hardly romantic meeting each other in the old barn behind my house. But it’s our spot. The one we’ve been going to for years. I nod and he presses his lips to mine, kissing me hard. I straighten the lapels of his cutaway morning coat.
Stepping back, I break the moment, moving out of his reach and throwing a wicked smile over my shoulder.
“Be careful,” he says, all teasing and playfulness vanishing from his voice.
I raise a brow at his uncharacteristic concern. He always cares, yet this is over the top even for him. “Aren’t I always?”
“I’m serious, Clara. Tonight is the first day of the claiming.”
The claiming. Shit. How could I be so stupid as to have forgotten? My timing killing that abomination couldn’t have been worse. I need to get home and fast. The blood drains from my face so quickly that it makes me dizzy. I turn away from Xander, but not before he sees.
“Are you all right?”
I nod, plastering a smile to my face. It’s false. It pains me to be less than genuine with him. But he mustn’t find out. No one can. It seems to put him at ease because he returns the expression. Then turning, I run out of our hideaway and into the crowd.
Slowing to a walk, I near the edge of the town when the unmistakable clatter of a carriage and hooves on the cobblestone road halt me in my tracks.
I swallow the lump of dread back down as a single carriage, led by two dappled grays, heads my way.
It turns from the main road and heads into the square. I stop and push back up into the stone of the nearest building, dropping my chin.
I don’t move a muscle… I barely so much as breathe as I wait for it to pass. It’s only a brief moment, but it feels like an eternity as the memories of my arrow finding its mark keep flashing through my mind over and over again.
The clatter of hooves stops in the center of the square opposite the fountain. While everyone else inches closer, I turn and run. I don’t make it far down the road before another carriage is headed my way, followed by another and three more behind it. They’ve all come. Every vampire royal, plus whatever others accompany them.
I shudder at the thought of so many untamed monsters in our midst.
In an effort to avoid them, I cross the road and jump the fence running through the Bennet’s field. He’d throw a fit if he found out, so it’s a good thing that he, like the rest of Littlemire, is currently distracted by vampires.
As I near the weather-worn house, no bigger than a cottage that I call home, I slow to a walk, easing my panting breaths to a slow, natural rhythm. Smoke curls from our tilted chimney, and, for a second, I can almost believe that Mother is inside preparing to start dinner, that Father is in his office working on his books, and Kathrine is curled up in a chair before the fire, reading.
I hear voices inside, Father’s and… another I’ve never heard before. I look around. There is no sign of hoof prints near our home or any leading to the barn.
A feeling of unease settles in my gut as I approach.