The Legend of Juliet: Part One (A Vampire Dystopia) (Finding Freedom Novellas) (5 page)

I straightened, becoming taller as the boy clutched at my arm from behind. I realized then that I was holding the vampire’s gaze, but instead of correcting my impudence I hardened my resolve, adopting a polite glare, causing her to step back a bit in shock. “I was only thinking of you, Miss. Most of the other...slaves...are newborns at the moment, so it would be difficult for you to find a replacement, and Master Delouge is against sharing last I heard,” the maid shrunk back at the mention of Sibold’s father, though she kept her confident air, recovering from my words.

The maid appeared to think for a moment before she nodded, and then stepped forward again slowly, her claws disappearing as her appearance regained its normality, and she grinned at me, her fangs showing. “Oh, yes, I know you – the little slave named Juliet,” she said silkily, her words causing shivers to echo down my spine as her tone changed; I had no idea what she wanted now, but I had a feeling that it wasn't good. With a few steps she was beside me, near enough that her breath played along my ear as she spoke. “How lucky you are, to be by Master Sibold’s side, to be the one that he looks to for everything,” to my surprise, envy filled her voice as she spoke, reaching down to grasp my forearm.

The maid pulled back, her breath leaving me, as she raised my arm to just below her eyelevel, her black orbs hungrily examining the bite marks on my wrist that were displayed. I squirmed as she leaned forward, as if wishing to bite me herself, though I knew that she wouldn’t; it would surely spell her death, to touch someone else’s slave without express permission. “To think, our great Master Sibold’s fangs rested here,” when she spoke, her voice was filled with longing, and then when she looked up, her eyes once again meeting mine, I understood.

Of course
.

She was jealous – and she wouldn’t be the only one, because it was no secret that a large majority of the vampires at the Manor, throughout Elisi Seven and the rest of the world, fancied Sibold – and why shouldn’t they? He was one of the most prominent and powerful Purebloods, and he had lived for thousands of years; he had seen so much that it boggled my mind to even imagine it…and he wasn’t at all lacking as far as looks, either.

It only made sense that the vampire maid was jealous – especially of the fact that I was the one from whom Sibold received his blood. To vampires, the exchange of blood was an intimate thing, though they didn’t often think of it that way when it came to their slaves – a Master thought nothing of feeding from their slave, but if they were to exchange or amass blood from another vampire, well, then
that
was intimate. So, despite the fact that Sibold taking my blood was not considered special in any way, the maid saw it as such, because if it had been her in my place, it would have meant more.

There were of course always exceptions to this rule…such as the L’Amblood, like Luke; but that was another story entirely, and quite complicated.

Speaking of Luke, he surprised all of us, the maid included, when he appeared behind the vampire, abruptly holding a knife up to the maid’s neck, faster than I could blink; she was a vampire, and would have healed from a cut, albeit much more slowly than Sibold would have, but if he chose to behead her, then she would die…and as a L’Amblood, he was strong enough to do it.

“Unhand Juliet; I won’t ask twice,” Luke’s voice was soft, commanding and dark when he spoke, his eyes focused on the maid who still held my forearm, her fangs growing dangerously close to the puncture wounds that Sibold had created not an hour earlier.

The maid’s hiss returned as she tightened her grip on my arm, causing me to wince, pain lacing through it. The motion brought up an ugly memory, Master Delouge’s face flashing through my mind, cruel and cold, but I hastily pushed the memory away, not wanting to melt into a pool of tears, trying to keep my façade of strength for the boy still hiding behind me. “She has wronged me, and I am entitled to justice,” the maid told Luke, her words said through clenched teeth, the knife that Luke held cutting into her skin as her neck moved with her words.

“She has committed no wrong, vampire. Your excuse is pathetic,” Luke said with humor as a harsh, barking laugh left his lips, and he released the vampire maid, withdrawing his knife. She quickly twisted from his grasp, and then in the blink of an eye turned towards him, her hands, once again sporting claws, aiming for his chest. He anticipated her move, and amazingly dodged it, his blade once again finding her throat. “Don’t try that again. I have no time to play games,” he said, his voice unfeeling, devoid of emotion as the maid relented, and he slowly withdrew his blade, being sure to leave another trail of blood in its wake.

I watched the scene unfold with large eyes, my heart beating wildly in my chest, worrying for Luke’s safety, and was relieved when the vampire maid stepped back, her ugly features vanishing as she calmed herself. She turned to leave – and then stopped, her hiss once again assaulting my ears.

“Come, boy!” she commanded, and with a yelp the young boy behind me hurried stumbling after his Mistress, who backhanded him the moment that he reached her side; to the boy’s credit, he didn’t cry, instead regaining his composure, whispering an apology to his Mistress as he tried to hold himself up – he was about to collapse, but I was sure that the fear of what she would do to him if he did outweighed any sense of sickness he might feel, adrenaline pumping; it was something that I understood as a slave.

I watched, anger growing as the two began to leave, the young boy trailing behind, his head hanging in shame and defeat. Before they rounded the corner of the hallway, he looked back at me, a small smile alighting on his face as he mouthed the words “
thank you
”, though his boyish, blue eyes remained defeated and grey.

My heart sank the moment they vanished as a horrible, wrenching question assaulted my mind: in speaking up, had I helped at all? Surely the vampire maid would punish him since she couldn’t punish me, and the punishment would be harsh because of her anger. But, still...the boy had thanked me.

Either way, I had seen the price that needed to be paid in order to think of the possibility of freedom, let alone obtain it, and it wasn’t a lesson that I would soon forget.

My heart leapt into my throat as I felt a hand land on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, and I looked up to see Luke towering above me, just a bit taller than Sibold; he wasn’t looking at me, but he was offering me comfort in his own way. “It seems that boy would have died without your interference. You should be proud,” he said without a smile; Luke didn’t like to show emotion when vampires were around, or if there was the possibility of them overhearing, or overseeing – about the only time he showed real emotion was when we were alone in our shared room, reserved for the slaves of the Pureblood Masters of the Manor; Master Delouge’s slaves – all five of them – remained in other quarters, as he wished.

“I’m not sure that I helped any,” I said as I lowered my head, a sob building in my throat. A tremble ran through me, and I wanted to cry, and never cease; my anger was gone, and now I felt strangely helpless.

It was so unfair, the world that I lived in – I knew that now for certain, and somehow knowing felt crueler than being ignorant.

Sibold had once told me a quote from a human stated long ago – “
Ignorance is bliss
” – and standing there, my heart crying for the boy when I could not, I began to agree with it.

But then I thought of what Sibold had said in response:

“If ignorance is allowed to prevail, then nothing will ever change, because knowledge will be lost, and with it, ideas.”

He had a point, but in that moment I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to acknowledge it fully.

Luke’s grip on my shoulder tightened in a warm way, as if he knew what it was that I was thinking. “Don’t worry, Juliet, change of any kind takes
time
,” he said, as if that were the answer to my woes – and who knew, maybe it was?

I was only just beginning to discover what it was to think fully, and I already knew from history that discovery took time – so perhaps Luke was right, and change did, too; it was something to think on.

I smiled up at Luke as he withdrew his grip, a small, infinitesimal grin curving on his lips as he reached down and took my hand in his, leading me back to our only safe, vampire-free haven, where we could always become who we were again.

“You are important to me...

...Never forget that.”

The moment that had led to my new life, that had truly pushed me forward towards it, had come shortly after Sibold had sunken into his chair, sipping at the tea that Miss Mercy had obtained for him; Sibold was a large fan of tea, but I wouldn’t discover that until later on.

The room had been quiet, save for the crackling of the fire, as Miss Mercy had warily lowered herself into a chair opposite Sibold, bowing her head a bit to remain respectful; my parents had stood off in the shadows, looking as though they were barely breathing; everyone but young, six-year-old me had understood the gravity of the situation, and how it, and my life up until that point, would end.

Finally it was Miss Mercy who had spoken, clearing her throat as she looked up from her own cup of tea, which had been situated on the small table beside her, untouched; later on I would discover it was forbidden to eat or drink in the presence of a Pureblood unless you were told to, after which you could hardly decline their generous offer – also, you were expected to offer your slave to them, should they show signs of needing to feed.

“Honey-girl, come introduce yourself to Master Sibold – and be polite,” Miss Mercy’s words had been directed at me, her tone soft as she’d looked up ever so slightly; most Lowerbloods had black eyes, but Miss Mercy’s had been brown, a lovely shade that matched her skin tone. Miss Mercy had always called me ‘honey-girl’, telling me that I was sweet. “Aren’t you excited? You’re going to get a name now,” she had smiled sweetly at me, but I had seen the tears springing, meeting her long, dark eyelashes.

Then, I hadn’t fully understood why she was crying, though I had assumed that it had something to do with the fact that the man – the vampire named Sibold – was there to take me away. I also hadn’t understood what she’d meant in telling me that I would finally be given a name.

I had asked my parents about it before, acknowledging early on that they had names, while I was only ever called ‘girl’, or ‘honey-girl’, not names because I’d heard too many others called the same or similar along with other names (given names). They were Kevin and Evangelique, our caretaker was Mercy, and the others at the Bright had names, too – the parents who would one day, if they hadn’t already, produce children for the vampires to claim as slaves, never seeing them again once they were born. It had never fully been explained to me why it was that I didn’t have a name, but that had never stopped me from wanting one.

In secret I had debated on a name for myself, never sharing my debate, but the moment that Miss Mercy had told me I would gain a name, due to the vampire sitting not far from me, I had hated the idea of names, had begun to hate the fact that I’d wanted one for so long – though somewhere deep, the longing for one remained.

My parents had only ever told me that, when I was older, I might gain a name – they had failed to tell me what would be lost when I did.

“I don’t want it!” Miss Mercy had jumped, her small smile vanishing the moment that I had shouted, my words appearing to splinter the air, breaking the peace. I’d remained hidden behind the settee, but I had torn my gaze from Miss Mercy’s disbelieving face to look at Sibold, who had remained sipping his tea, staring into the fireplace, not appearing bothered by my words, my defiance; this had infuriated me enough to bring me out from behind the settee, stomping until I was standing not far from Sibold, glaring up at him as any child who has no understanding of the world as of yet will, thinking myself to be right, and invincible. “I don’t want it, if it comes from him!” Miss Mercy’s gasp had been loud, as I’d pointed at Sibold, staring down the bridge of my nose at him.

The only one who hadn’t appeared shocked was Sibold, who had smiled slightly, his hazel eyes narrowing as he’d looked at me; I would later come to understand that this was his amused expression. His lack of anger had shaken me, because up until then I’d been comparing him to the dragon-man, and had thought of him as nothing but the person who would rip me from my family.

His action – or lack thereof – had confused me, causing me to frown as Miss Mercy had hastily stood and wrapped her arms around my middle, pulling me back swiftly.

“Please forgive her, Master Delouge – she’s just a young girl, and she hasn’t been properly taught yet!” the tone in Miss Mercy’s voice had confused me too as she had pulled me back. Then she had become almost quiet, nearly whispering as she told him: “That was my oversight, My Lord, and I’ll take any punishment if it would spare her from it.”

My eyes had widened as I’d wrestled with her grasp until I was looking up at her face, her words sobering me. “Punish...ment?” I had asked her, my mind buzzing, fear finally hitting me then; I’d known that word.

I hadn’t wanted anything to happen to Miss Mercy – especially because of me.

Sibold’s small smile had vanished abruptly when Miss Mercy had told him that she would accept punishment. He had opened his mouth to say something, but had closed it just as quickly when my mother, of all people, had appeared before him, dropping to her knees, her forehead nearly touching the floor as she’d bowed low; I had seen her shoulders shake, and had known that she was crying.

If my life had changed in that moment, I had also begun my premature trek into adulthood.

My mother had addressed Sibold. “Please, Master Delouge, I beg of you, take my daughter with you! She can be taught. I should be the one to take punishment, not Miss Mercy,” Sibold had barely moved; his eyes had focused on her though, witnessing her plight. “Please,” the last plea had been a soft one.