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I grabbed the soap and began washing my face, hair, and wings. When I moved on to my body, I scrubbed my pale skin pink, taking more care only on my forearm where the bloodletter’s needle had just punctured me, adding another mark to the dozens of faint needle scars on my arms and the backs of my hands.

Unlike the more frugal masters, Lord Aldéric provided us with rose-petal soap. He favored the scent, and soon enough, I smelled like a rose bush in full bloom. I dunked once more, trying to get all the soap out of my long hair. Once completely clean, I could lounge in the water for the remainder of my hour.

The moment I surfaced, however, whimpers filled my ears. I stiffened, but before I could be sure of what I’d heard, the sound fell quiet. The cavern I’d claimed still appeared empty. Had I imagined the noise?

I treaded to the side of the deep pool, content to sit and rest for a while, but I’d just reached the stone bench when the whimpers came again.

They sounded fainter, drifting from deeper inside the bathhouse. Thinking someone might have slipped on the damp stone floor, I hopped out of the pool and wrapped my towel tightly around my body. Following my keen ears, I entered the next cavern. Empty. As was the one beyond. I moved deeper into the cave system, and my blood chilled when the whimpers abruptly turned to sobs.

I stopped, suddenly rethinking what I was doing. Should I leave the person alone? Most people who frequented slave bathhouses were miserable. But a niggling voice inside told me I had to check. The cries weren’t morose but verging on frantic. Someone needed help.

When I entered the fifth chamber, my blood froze.

No one had fallen. No one sobbed because the Fates had forsaken them. Actually, the person who had been crying wasn’t even conscious any longer, thanks to the vampire drinking from her neck.

Bastard! My fists clenched into hard balls.

I had no idea how the monster had gotten into the bathhouse. The only vampires allowed on the premises were the masters with accounts in good standing, and judging by this male’s disheveled attire, he couldn’t claim that status. And even if he could, drinking from the vein was forbidden in the bathhouse. It was one of the only places in all the city where blood slaves were safe.

No. This vampire had to be a newblood if he dared sneak into the bathhouse and assault someone’s property.

He hadn’t noticed me either, which all but confirmed his status as a newblood. Once a newblood found a target, their focus didn’t waver. Not until the person they drank from was dead, anyway. I shuddered. Newbloods were death personified, and as far as I knew, they had only one downfall. Compared to older vampires, they were clumsy—having not had time to adjust to their super speed and strength yet.

I debated what to do. It would be all too easy to slip through the bathhouse and retrieve the guards at the front door. But would they do anything to help the woman?

I doubted it. Newbloods were always ravenous, and once this vampire finished his meal, he might need another one right away. The guards knew that as well as I, but I also couldn’t just leave the woman.

Pivoting, I scanned the area for a weapon, and my attention caught on a rock dislodged from the cavern wall. Moving as light as a feather, I scooped up the rock and tiptoed closer to the vampire. He remained hunched over the woman, oblivious to everything except the slave hanging as heavy as wet silk in his arms. Her legs floated in the pool she’d been bathing in, lifeless.

Terrified I might be too late, I got as close as I dared and pulled back my arm to strike. Using all my strength, I slammed the rock into the back of his head, hoping to knock him out.

The vampire dropped the woman and a loud crack resonated through the bathhouse as her skull hit rock. Then the vampire spun my way with a monstrous hiss. His eyes blazed crimson, making my heart stop.

Burning moon! It hadn’t worked. He hadn’t dropped in pain, nor gone unconscious.

Panicking, I struck again, slamming the rock into his face and knocking him backward a few paces.

“Worthless shrew!” He tripped and barely caught himself. If there’d been any doubt in my mind that he was a newblood, that would have erased it.

“You shouldn’t be in here!” I yelled back. “If the masters—”

My words died on my lips as the vampire jumped, arms extended for me. I spun out of the way in time, thankful that the potion Lord Aldéric force-fed me each full moon to extinguish my fae magic could not dim the natural speed and strength of my kind.

“Help!” I screamed, hoping the guards at the front would hear. “Someone fell! They’re bleeding out!”

The guards wouldn’t help if they knew a vampire had attacked. Actually, in that case, they might even run. But if a blood slave fell and lost what made them valuable, the guards would come.

“Soon, you’ll be bleeding too.” The vampire darted toward me a second time.

I spun out of his grasp again, and as I did so, I clocked him in the back of the head with the rock. The vampire stumbled again, his own great speed driving him straight into the uneven stone wall.

A roar rang from his throat, and I darted backward as far as I could into the next chamber. The vampire twisted, focusing on me once more.

“You little—”

“Take a step back!” a voice shouted behind me right as a blast sounded, and air blew by my right shoulder.

I gasped as a wooden bullet slammed into the rock wall, so far from the vampire. Had the guard even been trying? That had been closer to hitting me than the vampire!