Page 17 of Blood as Sweet as Roses

Crimson

“Rise and shine,” I hum deviously, as I swing the coffin lid open.

Two gleaming, red eyes glare up at me. But Waylan can’t move. He’s bound in silver chains, unable to heal, his skin raw and burning from the toxic metal.

Murad’s nose twitches as he regards the vampire from the other side of the coffin, an expression of distaste across his features.

“I wanted to leave you in there for another six months,” I tell Waylan. “But Murad convinced me to give you another chance.”

Waylan snorts. His voice is raw and raspy, thick because his fangs are elongated in hunger over his chin. “You bitch…”

“Well, then,” I tsk, starting to lower the coffin lid again. “If that’s how you’re going to…”

“Wait!” he gasps, squirming under the silver chains. They’re so thick, I can feel the sting in the air from only a foot above him. He must be in absolute agony. “Roslyn…please…”

There’s a little flicker in my chest as something deep inside me catches. It’s the way he said my name. The pleading dance of syllables on his tongue has an echoed cadence…a memory that flashes behind my eyelids…

But I push the feeling down. I’ve had a lot of practice doing that. And I cover my brief discomposure by masking my voice in malice.

“You betrayed me, Waylan. Plotted against me as soon as I ascended to the throne. How can I trust you now? What use do I have, for a power-hungry vampire with his eye on my throne?”

“It…it was Sabina,” he says. “She’s the one who secured the potion. It was her idea to poison you.”

“Oh, that’s very convenient,” I drawl. “First, I’m the one who needs to be taken down a notch, who doesn’t deserve the throne. And now that you’re all bound up in silver, still bleeding from your balls, it was all Sabina’s idea?”

“She’s coming for you,” Waylan hisses. “Ignore my warning, fine. But it will be your own grave that you’ll dig.”

“Don’t tell me how to…”

But Murad steps forward, looking down at the prostrate vampire. “Were there any others involved in your plot? External forces we should be aware of?”

Waylan shakes his head. “Just Sabina and I.”

“Did you ever suspect her of allying with any of the disgraced northern vampires? Oana or Cedric?” Murad asks with a frown.

“It’s…it’s not impossible, but I never spoke to them. I swear it.”

Murad brings a finger to his chin, his eyes unfocused as he contemplates Waylan’s words. He looks thoughtful, so I lower the lid to the coffin again, cutting off Waylan’s muffled shout off as the airtight box clicks shut.

“You think Sabina is plotting with Oana and Cedric?” I ask Murad.

“I think we should prepare ourselves for anything,” he replies, grimly stroking his beard. “But if you seek my counsel…”

“You know I respect your advice, Murad.”

“Knowing Waylan and Sabina, I think it’s a lot more likely that she was the mastermind behind this. You won’t get her confession, and Waylan’s word isn’t enough to bind her in chains, however…Waylan is a powerful vampire. But he’s not smart or skilled enough to be a true threat to your reign.”

“Noted,” I answer, considering his words.

With a sigh, I swing the coffin lid open again.

“Do you vow absolute loyalty to me, Waylan Night?” I demand.

“Yes, Crimson.”

“Try again.”

His nostrils flare. “Yes, my king.”

I bend down over him, giving him a glimpse of my fangs. “If I get just a whiff of your disobedience…just a hint of any treachery from you…I will stake you on the spot, and any others that have allied with you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” There’s a defeated, submissive expression in his eyes.

I believe Murad’s counsel was the right one.

I still don’t trust Waylan, but I have to be smart.

I can’t go staking every single older vampire in my clan, otherwise I’ll have no one left.

Better to keep Waylan for now. Perhaps this early punishment will set him right.

And it’s undeniably satisfying to force him to defer to me. Maybe once he’s recovered, I’ll make him kneel before my throne. That would be delightful.

In the meantime, perhaps I’ll find that breather again. The one with the sweet blood and the submissive nature. A wonderful thrill of anticipation springs inside me as I picture her on her knees, serving me.

But I must be careful. I shouldn’t become overly attached to one breather, no matter how tantalizing she is. It would be dangerous for us both.

I raise my voice. “Alin!”

The door to the dungeon opens, and the younger vampire comes in. He wears thick gloves up to his elbows to protect his hands, but I know his task will still not be pleasant.

“Unbind Waylan and give him some blood,” I instruct, gesturing to the bottles of distilled blood in a crate by the coffin. “He may be freed, but keep an eye on him as he recovers.”

“Certainly, my king.”

Murad and I exit the dungeon, to the sounds of peeling flesh and pained gasps.

“I don’t miss having that job,” I mutter to him as he closes the dungeon door behind us.

“Well, I don’t envy you your’s,” the other vampire replies wistfully.

I grimace. “We’ll have to keep an eye on Sabina.”

“I’ll speak with her,” Murad offers. “Perhaps…”

“No, I’ll do it,” I reply. “I’m not Xavian, I can do my own dirty work directly.”

“Well…” Murad’s eyes flicker back toward the dungeon door behind us. “Not all of your dirty work.”

“Touché.”

Murad retires to his library, and I search for Sabina.

She’s not in her office, or in the lounge.

This late into the night (early in the morning, really), there are few breathers still awake, so the lounge is quite empty.

There’s a small group of vampires and breathers enjoying each other enthusiastically on the larger couches at the back of the room, but it doesn’t appear Sabina is among them.

She could be down in her crypt, but something draws me out into the night, to the courtyard behind the mansion.

I don’t come out here often enough. Tonight, the sky is overcast, a thin mist hanging in the air.

I recall that the dew used to have a rich, invigorating smell.

But the memory is long lost to me. Vampires don’t smell the way that living humans do.

Our range of senses is strictly limited to blood, magic, and desire.

A sharp shriek snaps me out of my contemplative mood.

It sounds like a vampire, a playful but pained sound.

Not an unusual one to hear in our mansion, but the chorus of shouts and jeers that follow it tug at my curiosity, and I follow the noise, relying on my vampiric night vision to navigate the shadowy courtyard.

There’s a cobblestoned garden at its heart, with a fountain and many wooden benches interspersed between thorny rose bushes and well-groomed shrubs.

A contingent of young vampires is gathered here, engaged in playful reverie.

I don’t smell any living humans, which is perhaps why I didn’t sense them immediately when I came outside.

It’s a bit unusual, for them to be having such an… exuberant time without any breathers.

Then I see a flash of silver, and I realize what’s going on.

“What are you doing?” I snap angrily, making my presence known.

The shouts and laughter immediately cease, as all eyes turn to me. There are about a dozen vampires here, all relatively young, under a hundred years. Two of them stand in the center, their bare arms exposed, thin chains of silver burning their skin.

It looks like Cassandra is winning. Good for her, but I’m still disappointed.

“Get that silver off your skin at once,” I command.

“Sorry, sir!” whimpers the other vampire, wincing as he pulls the chains off. They leave burning marks along his olive skin, which hiss as they heal.

“We were just playing Winter chains, my king,” Cassandra says, giving me a pleading expression. “And I was lasting the longest!”

“You’re not playing anymore,” I reply, firmly. “It’s a waste of your healing abilities, and will weaken you. Those are thin chains, but the more you add, the more your energy and power will be sapped. You’re too young to know how much you can safely tolerate without seriously injuring yourselves.”

“We were being careful!” one of the older vampires counters. “Didn’t you ever play Winter chains, Crimson?”

I cross my arms. “That’s beside the point. I won’t have you using silver on each other, and that’s final. Take those chains back to the dungeon. If you’d seen what I have, you wouldn’t be so eager to silver yourselves, trust me.”

There’s a weak chorus of disappointed sighs and groans as the newborn vampires place the chains in a wooden box. They disperse obediently, if begrudgingly, into the night.

“If you want to toughen yourselves up, spend a little more time in the gym! Or practice your magic!” I lecture as they disappear.

But I doubt any of them will heed that advice.

It’s far more impressive to show off how much silver you can bear than to spend time honing your vampiric strength, or reading dusty witch books in Murad’s library.

But I was serious about what I said. Most of these young vampires don’t remember what it was like hundreds of years ago.

This world might be harsh, but it used to be far, far more brutal.

Those chains were small, they should have seen what we used to use when I was their age.

Once I silvered myself so badly that it took me an entire fortnight to recover completely.

We were attacked by a coven of witches in the meantime, and one of them almost staked me because I was still sluggish.

It didn’t make me stronger, it made me more vulnerable.

Even though I did used to win most times…it certainly didn’t hurt my reputation.

I’m about to go back down to the crypts, when I catch an unusual scent in the air. It’s a living human, or no…certainly living, but their blood has an ethereal, mystical quality to it…

I glance to a dark corner of the courtyard.

There’s a bench surrounded by heaping, black rosebushes.

Kai sits on the bench, wearing a dress of rich blue, wrapped up in the arms of a breather.

He has tangled, matching blue hair, pale skin the colour of ivory, and wears only a pair of loose, linen pants with no shoes.

“Good evening, Kai,” I mutter.

The pair jumps when they see me, and Kai scrambles to their feet.

“Cr-Crimson…” they say, surprised. They stand between me and the breather, as though trying to conceal him from my sight.

“Who is that?” I demand. “I don’t recognize him. He’s not one of the breathers in our employ.”

They crosses their arms irritably. “You know exactly who that is, Crimson. And I have nothing to hide from you, I’m not ashamed.”

I glare at the man behind her. He gives me a tiny wave.

“Is that your merman?” I ask. “Isn’t he supposed to have a massive fin? I assume that’s the whole appeal.”

“Don’t fetishize him!” Kai snaps haughtily. “And he’s wearing an enchanted gem.” They point to his bare chest, where he wears a teardrop pendent of glowing emerald. “Obviously, it contains a magical spell which gives him legs so he can walk on land.”

“Nothing about that is obvious,” I grumble. This is the last thing I want to deal with right now, but I have to draw a line in the sand. “Kai, we discussed this already…”

“You’re so unreasonable!” they counter. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“Because I’m responsible for making sure you and the other vampires are safe,” I reply, frustration colouring my words. “Something that none of you seem to appreciate.”

“I’m safe with Neptune!” they declare. “He takes care of me!”

I raise an eyebrow. “His name is Neptune? Really?”

They huff. “You don’t take our relationship seriously! We’re in love, Crimson. But of course you can’t understand that. You’re as cold as ice. You wouldn’t know real love if it staked you in the heart!”

Now they’re really invoking my ire. I hiss at them, flashing the red in my eyes. The merman hurries unsteadily to his feet, and takes them by the shoulder.

“Kai, it’s all right,” he says softly. “I can go, I don’t want to cause any trouble…”

But Kai is glaring at me fiercely, their pointed canines peeking through their teeth. “Just because you’re cursed by that stupid prophecy, doesn’t mean that the rest of us can’t find our true love!”

Now they’ve crossed the line. I step toward them, rising to my full height, making my intentions clear. Both of them quiver under my gaze, the merman clutching Kai’s shoulder tightly.

“I will not be disrespected, Kai,” I growl. “If you mention any prophecy again, I will rip that ridiculous gem from your merman’s throat and the donors will be eating calamari for dinner tomorrow night. Is my meaning clear?”

“You’re an evil bitch, Crimson!” Kai shrieks, bloody tears rolling down their cheeks.

“Am I clear?”

“Yes, yes, you’re clear!” Neptune squeaks, taking Kai’s hand and pulling them back toward the mansion. They scramble, hand-in-hand, across the cobbled paths and into the looming building. I watch them go, bitter in my small victory.

If you had told me that it would be this frustrating to lead a vampire clan…

Well, I probably still would have taken the throne.

What can I say? I love power, money, and blood. I’m a vampire. And if that means occasionally terrifying and threatening the other vampires to keep them in line, I suppose it’s a small price to pay.

But I don’t like how Kai invoked the prophecy.

Not that I take that sort of nonsense seriously, but I don’t want them spreading rumours among the other vampires in the Night clan.

Every magical person in the eastern region is aware of my power and ruthlessness, but my reign is still new, and any perceived weakness is a concern.

I’ll have to tread carefully.

And perhaps…I should be thoughtful about which breathers I drink from. Spread out my attention more. I’ve allowed myself to become infatuated with that new one, and I can’t allow that to happen.

No matter how beautiful she is, or how exquisite her blood, it’s not worth the risk.

To me…or to her.