Hello, welcome back! I hope you guys have enjoyed the last couple of weeks. Real life has been super busy... Anyway, please enjoy the new chap!

Chapter 7

"Wake up! Bella? Are you there?" I can sense Jessica and Angela, even though I can't see them. Sound illuminates my world, but my body is frozen. The horribly dry feeling along my lips and tongue tell me that my mouth has been open for a while. My eyes and mouth are gaping, begging to be reconnected to my brain, and everything is darkness until a weight lifts itself from my chest and I fling upward, gasping.

"What the hell happened?" Angela shakes me until I push her away. "Are you okay?"

I look around to see Jessica crying in the dim light of the hallway. Everything is black. The violet wall and door: gone.

"Did you… did you guys see the room?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"What room? Are you going crazy? This is a dead end, there's nothing here." Angela gasps for breath, her sentences running together. "We came after you and found you lying on the floor. You were breathing, but barely, and your eyes were open, not blinking. It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

I look to Jessica who confirms everything with her concerned, doe-brown eyes. The rippling violet wall, the soft fur of the rug against my feet, the weighty casting of the golden book… all of it felt so real. Jessica nears and helps me up as I desperately try to piece together what just happened.

"Are you deaf?" An annoyingly loud voice echoes across the stone walls, causing the three of us to jump. Anaya is plodding down the hall, looking even more cross now than before—which is surprising in itself. She plants herself in front of us, staring down at me from her easily six-foot height.

"You were given simple instructions to follow. Nothing too elaborate, or so I thought," she hisses condescendingly, mainly focusing on me. "Should you neglect adhering to my word in the future, you can expect a one-way ticket to the Sabbanthian fallen chambers."

My blood lights up at her power-play. As if she has the ability to decide my fate. She's human too. All head supply units are good for is sucking up and pouring out, and maybe leading a tour, that's it. I speak before I think.

"Yeah, right, get off your soapbox. No one with any real power cares what you have to say."

Angela and Jessica both clam up behind me as Anaya snickers, leaning forward to whisper in my ear. "Playing that card, are we? You don't know much about the rules of a seraglio, do you? Anything you need… new clothes, more food, maybe a pen and parchment to doodle… all of it comes through me."

I swallow and shift my focus between her gray-blue eyes. By this point, my better judgment has successfully wrangled my loose tongue, and I remain silent even as she smiles coyly, reveling in the slight victory. "I hope you understand the extent of what you've done. I can, and will, ruin you here."

She puts distance between us to speak to Jessica and Angela as well.

"Everyone is already line for tagging. Move now before I increase your punishment."

"Increase?" Angela asks lowly, almost unsure if she's allowed to ask at all.

"Yes." Anaya smiles. "Thanks to your friend, you will begin your next few days scrubbing the supply bathrooms. Move along."

It's hard to feel anything, anything at all, except for pure rage and confusion. What I saw behind the violet wall was real. Whether I stumbled into an alternate reality by mistake or into a vortex of witchcraft, I don't know. But it was real. And another thing that's real… my budding hatred for Anaya. Reluctantly, I lift my gaze to my friends.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know that this would..." I trail off, uncertain of how to properly apologize for what could very well be sheer craziness.

"Don't worry about it," Jessica whispers, "It's obvious Anaya has something against you."

"Even I can see that," Angela mumbles, although clearly upset by her punishment-by-association as she now stands with her arms crossed and body turned away from me.

I'm slow to nod as my eyes linger along the black wall behind me, aching to see the violet light again. To at least prove my own sanity to myself.

God, I hope I'm not crazy.

The small lobby of the Seraglio is well-lit, brighter than any other room I have ever seen while in the Stratocracy of Volterra. It's a nice change, being able to see clearly for once. Compared to the dormitories at Nightingale, the Seraglio is in better shape, even though the cracked walls and dusty remnant decor of horses and landscapes are barely comparable to the rest of the castle.

Everyone is already through the line once we get there. The counter assigned for tagging also happens to be the Seraglio's official entrance, guarded by a single male vampire servant, who sits behind and beneath an archway that reads,

Blood Supply Seraglio

Submission. Sacrifice. Obedience.

The servant looks up at me, after having just admitted Angela and Jessica, from behind the long counter.

"Number?" he questions me.

"E29734."

He rifles through his drawer of clacking metal tags before fitting the matched one to an electronic contraption with protruding, fang-like teeth.

"Right wrist." He outstretches a bony hand toward me.

I obey only after I consider all other options, dreading the sheer thought of the pins skewering my arm. He moves the contraption that holds my tag between two clamps, adjusting the pins and brackets according to my wrist size to render my arm immovable. The clamps release and the two pins pierce through my flesh until they are met and fastened into the brackets.

I yelp, trying to stifle my cry the best I can at the sudden flood of pain. The pins of the tag go all the way through the flesh while the brackets secure and shorten them. I look away, heat swelling in my chest at the thought of what it means. Officially branded. This permanent tag forces every vampire to recognize me as Lord Edward Cullen's property. It is also meant to alert me if I am being summoned by him.

I grit my teeth as blood and raw pain pulse out of the wound. The vampire attendant reaches for me and within a few short moments he has wrapped my wrist, tag and all, with a salve-laden arument bandage. The power of vampire-engineered salve is an amazing alleviator. Although any movement or tightening of my joints sends waves of discomfort up and down my arm, more or less it feels simply burdened, numb.

"Now that you're done whining, would you like to come in?" the scurvy, overly-hairy vampire asks, opening the passage gate directly next to him.

I cradle my throbbing arm and eye him coldly while side-stepping through the gate. On the other side, Emi stands meters away, waiting. She calls me over.

"This way, before you miss too much. Anaya is speaking." she whisper-yells. Clutching my arm and wondering why I should care, I force myself into a trot for Emi's sake rather than Anaya's.

When I reach her, she wastes no time in pushing me through the doorway and closing the door behind me. Anaya completely pauses her current topic and turns to glare at me from the makeshift stage. Her expression is one that is a strangely satisfied look of disappointment.

Of course.

This invites the new supply units in the back, as well as all of the experienced supply units at the front, to shift their gazes toward me. Jessica and Angela acknowledge me with pity from the back of the room, beckoning me to quickly come sit with them. My mouth goes dry as I try to ignore every pair of eyes that remain locked on me. Carefully, I maneuver down the main aisle, trying to locate my care-less attitude, as well as every single obstacle that might cause me to trip. With how things have been going for me lately, I wouldn't be surprised if a rock popped up out of nowhere to sabotage my footing.

Step by agonizing step echoes against the walls until dead silence finally rings about the room. It's only when I have completely sat cross-legged on the floor, alongside Angela and Jessica, does Anaya continue on with her lecture, redirecting everyone's attention from me, back to her. Oh, what I wouldn't do to see that woman catch on fire right now.

I'm distracted from my loathing by sharp throbs of pain shooting up my arm. I glance downward, moving the arument bandage slightly to run my fingers over the inscription of the tag's face plate. My identification number, age, blood type, and owner are all nestled within the grains of the stainless-steel band. I force myself to pay attention to the witch at the front in hopes she'll say something worthwhile for a plan of escape.

"The seraglio is five stories deep with each floor serving a unique purpose for the supply unit. The first Standing—where we are at this very moment—is the check-in, check-out, and meeting rooms. Most of you will have no business on the first floor unless you are tending to servants or have been summoned. Which, depending on our lord's fancy of your blood, could be very rare, or not at all." Her eyes fall on me for a brief moment and I scowl.

"The second Standing is where we all are stationed for overflow work from the castle's servants. Laundry washing, food cleaning, blood compounding, and donation. Overflow work may also require the supply unit to leave the Seraglio, which is only allowed by servant escort, and by permission from master Demetri, madam Coffet, or madam Victoria, the caretakers of the seraglio. The dining hall is on the third Standing and holds all rations earned by every supply unit. The quantity of rations that you are given directly correlates to how much work you complete. So, should you slack off all day, your skimpy meals will show for it."

That's alright. I'd rather starve, anyway. I lie to myself out of spite.

"Now, the fourth Standing is devoted solely to blood quality, meaning that it is meant for leisurely and self-pleasing activities. I would highly recommend not to spend the entire length of your days there, but care for your blood as our wonderful Lord Cullen's satisfaction with you is on the line." I roll my eyes as everyone lights up at the sound of his name. Cattle. All of them.

"And finally." She takes a breath. "The fifth is our shared bedchamber and lavatories. Curfew is at eleven every morning. No earlier, no later. Wake-up call is at seven every night. No earlier, and no later. Sheet and cleaning duty of the bedchamber will be assigned based on-"

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

A high-frequency sound erupts past my ears and across the room, stopping Anaya mid-sentence. I wince, lifting my hands to my ears instinctively only to throw them back down when the sound grows exponentially louder as a result.

Confused, I look down. And there, beneath the arument bandage that is soaked by my blood, is the light of my tag, flashing bright red, and emitting the offending noise.

My heart nearly stops, and shocked gazes fly toward me, making me the center of attention yet again. Anaya's expression is especially memorable as I lift my eyes enough to see her mouth drop slowly, as if her usually-collected self snapped and she was doing all she could to keep it together.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

The nagging frustration continues as I conclude…

…I'm being summoned.

Cullen returns in the next chap! Lucky for you... I might have it directly on hand :D