The fire crackles in our small wood burning stove as Kitty hums to herself on the wooden bench, sewing designs on plain white handkerchiefs. I sit at her feet, rereading my favorite—and only—book for what might possibly be the hundredth time. It’s a rare morning where I allow myself the luxury of relaxing and pretending that my life is almost normal.
But only for today. I have every intention of avoiding the woods for as long as I can.
Father bursts from his room, the door cracking against the wall as he stumbles into the room bleary-eyed, hungover, and rubbing at his face. He stops when he sees me, his face turning petulant the second his eyes lock on my face.
“Taking the day off, Clara?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be out there, working?”
I bristle at his tone. He acts as if it’s my duty and my duty alone to make sure this family is fed, clothed, and that he has plenty of gambling money to waste.
Kitty’s fingers freeze mid-motion, but she doesn’t look up at Father. Her nerves are already frayed at the fight that might come. For her sake, I hold my tongue, as much as it pains me to let those words of his go unchecked.
Carefully, I close my book and set it next to Kathrine as I lift myself up to stand.
“I was about to go out,” I say as pleasantly as one can through gritted teeth.
His bloodshot eyes narrow on me, not having missed my true feelings. He takes a step forward, his fists clenched at his side, and I ready myself for what’s to come.
Three knocks on the door halt him in his tracks. “Don’t just stand there, answer it.”
Kitty starts to rise. I gesture her to sit back down as I make my way to the door.
I blink several times as I stare into the most beautiful, deep blue eyes that sparkle in the early morning light, made even more striking by the thick lashes that frame them. He’s even more stunning in the light. I open my mouth to speak, but my words catch in my throat.
Mr. Devereaux smiles when he sees me, but there’s something cold and wicked in it. Today his expression is pleasant in a way that doesn’t ring true. Where yesterday he had seemed nearly apathetic, unimpressed… bored, today there’s malice in it.
My body reacts without thought, moving to slam the door in his face. There’s something dark about this man, and I want nothing to do with him.
A red ring forms around his irises, then I blink and it’s gone.
Father’s meaty hand grabs onto the edge of the door, preventing it from moving. “Mr. Devereaux,” he says, frowning. “I hadn’t expected you to return so soon… eh—why don’t you come in?”
I know what I saw. He is so much more than just a man. Already my mind is forming doubts. A ray from the rising sun flashed just right—a lingering lesser demon causing mischief.
Father’s hand wraps around my upper arm, dragging me back out of the way.
Vampire…
No… no, don’t let him in!
Father is giving me a murderous look, he will beat me the second this man leaves, but I don’t care. My gut is telling me he’s dangerous. The two men walk closer to the fire, and I'm left standing with my back against the door.
“I am afraid, Mr. Devereaux, you didn’t leave me with sufficient time to gather the funds I owe you,” Father says cajolingly, his false pleasantry dripping from his words.
One more punishment I will suffer once our guest has left. I know he will blame me for taking the morning off.
“I regret that more pressing matters have come up and I must leave sooner rather than later.” Mr. Devereaux looks at me, taking me in from head to toe, stark hunger in his eyes.
His stare is unrelenting. I feel exposed, even with all my layers of clothes. Once more, the thin ring of crimson flashes around his irises.
Mr. Devereaux wants me to know him for what he is.
He is looking for weakness or fear. If I didn’t know better, with the way he holds his shoulders, I would say he’s looking to make me cower in his shadow, trying to cow me into submission, ready to be manipulated, and used up… and killed, as though I was nothing more than some dumb animal bred for slaughter. I suppose, compared to them, that’s all we really are—a simple and powerless food source.
I can feel his ire as though he were running his fingertips over every inch of my skin. This monster that doesn’t know a thing about me has found displeasure in my very existence. It makes no sense. Though, when was a monster ever known to behave or feel logically?
I close my eyes and pull in a shuddering breath and sigh inwardly, careful not to let signs of my fear go any further than thoughts.
My gaze flicks to Kitty then back at him, and I could swear that his eyes sparkle with ill intent.
I glare at him, focusing on calming my breath and slowing my heart to a steady beat. I chase the fear away.
Or at least I tell myself that’s what I’m doing. My body has gone cold, chilled to the bone. I only manage to keep my pulse in check due to all those years of practice from hunting, forcing my body to relax so my arrows don’t fly too far off target. But vampires aren’t mindreaders. He can only sense my physiological responses to him.
He lists his head to the side, and I notice the slight narrowing of his eyes, the corners crinkling. His mouth twitches, not quite forming a sardonic smile.
We stare at each other a long moment before he turns away, facing my father once more.
“Perhaps, when you return this way—” Father tries.
“No.” The vampire cuts him off sharply, returning his attention to Father and taking a menacing step toward him. “I will not be back this way for some time, I must collect the debt owed to me and be on my way. I’m sure you can think of something…”
I glance to Kitty, as she keeps her head down, working on her stitching and trying hard not to notice the tension in the room.
“My daughter,” Father blurts out, waving a hand toward Kitty. “Take Kathrine, she will make a lovely wife.”
“Your—” Mr. Devereaux starts and seems to nearly choke on the words.
“No!” I know I shouldn’t interrupt, but I can’t allow him to give Kitty away as if she means nothing. I can’t allow her to become a meal for one of these monsters.
Mr. Devereaux swivels his attention in my direction, and I know from the curve of his lips before he schools his features that he will accept.
“No,” I say again, glad my voice doesn’t shake this time. “Not Kitty, she is too young. I will go instead.”
The words shock everyone in the room just as much as they do me, but I dare not take them back. I lift my chin as our guest steps closer. He studies me once more with the same look he had earlier, but this time he doesn’t attempt to hide it from anyone.
“Not Clara,” Father says. “She’s—” But he doesn’t get to finish.
Mr. Devereaux slices his hands through the air to silence him. “She will do. Our debts are settled.”
“Sh-she is worth more than the debt I owe you!”
Kitty snuffles in the corner. I hate this insufferable man. I am used to his hate, his abuse, and every part of his horrible nature. Poor Kitty is not.
His words and his meaning hit home. Kitty isn’t worth anything to him, but I am. Not because he loves me, I doubt there’s any part of him that knows love—but because I can provide him with money to gamble away.
He disgusts me.
“Mmm, perhaps you are right.”
My head snaps up toward Mr. Devereaux. Hope springs in my chest that my initial reaction was wrong. That same hope crashes down around me like so much shattered glass as he reaches within a pocket and produces a pouch, heavy with coin.
“This should cover the difference… and then some. You will find this offer to be more than fair.” There’s a strange vibration to his words.
Father looks from the pouch to me, then back. I’m frozen in place. No, no. Please, no, I mouth, shaking my head and praying he will refuse.
Kitty looks down at the crumpled handkerchief in her lap. I want her to say something. Anything. Why isn’t she protesting?
This entire situation is mad. What sort of man trades his daughter to pay off his debts?
The pouch lands with a clunk on our rough-hewn table. Father’s eyes grow wide seeing the size of it. My heart stops for an excruciatingly long moment as he decides. It should be easy.
Refuse! Refuse the damned offer, you bastard! I fling my thoughts toward him, willing him to do the right thing.
I am crushed, though not surprised when Father picks up the bag and extends his right hand. “I find this offer more than fair,” Father repeats. “You have a deal.”
Mr. Devereaux shakes his offered hand.
It is done.
I have been traded for my father’s debts. Kitty smothers a strangled sob, but I can’t look away from the man who now owns me. I stand in place, my body numb. I can barely remember how to breathe right now. I want to scream and rage and refuse. I want to take Kitty and leave these two to sort out their debts on their own.
The vampire faces me, looking far more devious than he had earlier. “It is time for you to pack, Miss Valmont—we must be on our way.”
I stand frozen in place.
“Clara, it is time for you to pack,” Father echos placidly. He’s looking at me, but it feels as though he isn’t truly seeing me at all. “Do not make Mr. Devereaux wait.”
Then the vampire turns to Kitty and smiles. Her face goes deathly pale.
I take that for the threat it is and hurry to my room.
My mind goes blank. I can’t even think about what to pack. And there is only a single trunk split between Kitty and me. I can’t take it with me, leaving her with nothing.
Kitty hurries in behind me. “Clara,” she says desperately in a hushed whisper. “Are you really going to let him take you?”
I grab my hunting bag and stuff what I can inside. Two shirts and a spare pair of trousers. I have no room for anything nicer—not that I have any desire to look nice for that beast in the other room. As a last second thought, I shove my hunting knife into my bag and bury it beneath the clothes.
“I have no choice…”
“Clara!” Father shouts from the other room. “What in the Otherworld is taking you so long?”
“Clara,” she whimpers. “Do not let that monster bed you.” Her eyes focus on the door at my back. “Kill him... Kill him, then return home to me.” She clasps my hands pleading.
I am not sure what I’d expected her to say, only that this wasn’t it.
I smile and nod as if I’ll do just that and be back in a week's time. Though, if I were to kill him, my life would be forfeit. Either way, I’ll never see my sweet sister’s face again.
“Promise me,” she begs again.
“I promise,” I say, gathering her up in a tight hug.