I couldn't wake up.

I had dreamed up an elaborate rescue, a daring escape, and when I woke up it would be gone. I would be in the crawlspace under Rider and Vanessa's house where we all slept to stay far from the sun's reach, waiting for them to wake up and let me out.

I had to stay asleep, had to let Benedikt stay real a little while longer-

Someone was knocking. Nobody ever knocked on the door this early in the evening.

I didn't open my eyes, trying to hold onto sleep, and was startled when my hand clutched a soft, clean pillow.

A door opened. "Jane."

I sat bolt upright, which was stupid because my head would smack into a wooden beam that held the house up from the dirt floor-

I didn't hit anything. I looked around the room, still vast, still clean, still beneath Chasecroft Manor. I turned to stare at the woman at my door, who flinched and swore under her breath before straightening herself up. "Uh… Jane, right?"

"It's real," I said. "It happened."

"Er… yes?" she said.

"I'm here."

"Yes, you are, honey." She seemed to pull herself together. "James sent a few of us down to bring you breakfast."

She turned to speak quietly to someone in the hall. I heard a quiet mutter of 'don't stare at her,' and then she was ushering in a boy and girl who couldn't have been much older than me.

I was almost certain they were the first humans I had seen in eight years. I stared at them as the girl brought in a tray and the boy brought in a pitcher of orange juice. They set the breakfast items on a desk against the wall, then stepped back and looked at the woman in charge. She looked at me expectantly.

"Well?" she asked. "Aren't you hungry? James said you would be."

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"To bring you breakfast," she said slowly, giving me a concerned look.

"No, why - why are you - not dead?" I managed, gesturing at them.

"Christ," the boy said, and the girl elbowed him.

"We're servants here in the manor," the woman said. "I'm Laura, and these are my children, John and Lexa. We - we work here."

"Work here."

"You know. Clean the house, make sure the place is livable. There are others who work the farmland Master Benedikt owns, but I imagine you won't see much of them."

"Farmland," I said.

"Well - yes, the farmland. Where do you think you are?"

I squinted at her, and she squinted back. "I don't know anything about farmland."

She waved me off. "We work, we don't get eaten, Jane. Simple as that. Now come eat your breakfast."

I slid out of bed, and she raised her eyebrows.

"What are you wear-" the boy started before the girl elbowed him again.

"John, don't be rude," Laura snapped.

I looked down at the plain athletic shorts and tank top I wore. It occurred to me that my clothes had a lot more bloodstains than theirs.

John, seeming embarrassed for speaking out of turn twice in a row, pulled the chair away from the desk for me. I peered at him for a moment, then sat down. He pushed the chair in, and I stared down at the meal before me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"What do you mean, what is it?" Laura asked, and when I glanced up at her she seemed insulted. "It's pancakes and sausages and eggs. What's it look like?"

"Never had this before," I said.

"Never-?" She stopped herself, and her expression softened. "It's breakfast, honey. Have at it."

I leaned over to sniff at the meal, and my mouth started watering. I picked up the fork on the tray and drove it into the sausage, which I held up to get a better look at. The smell of it made my stomach growl, and I tentatively took a nibble of it.

The taste exploded on my tongue, and I shoved the rest of it into my mouth, then did the same with the next sausage, and the next, and-

"Whoa, whoa, stop!" Laura exclaimed, grabbing my wrist. "You've got to swallow!"

I yanked my hand away from her, brandished my fork, and she jerked away in surprise.

"Jesus, what's wrong with her?" Lexa exclaimed.

I froze, staring at them, the first humans I had seen in years. They all looked mortified.

I forced the lump of partially-chewed meat down my throat, coughing when I had finally gotten it down. "I… sorry. I'm sorry."

"Just… take it easy," Laura said after a moment. She took the pitcher and poured me a glass of juice. "Here, wash it down with that."

I did as she said, the tang of the juice giving me goosebumps. "It's… really good."

"I'm glad you like it," she said. "Try the eggs."

I obeyed.

"They're my specialty, scrambled with cheese and some green onions - I wasn't sure if you'd want pepper on them-"

"They're good," I said around a mouthful of egg. I took another sip of juice before taking another bite. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, honey."

"Sorry for…" I gestured with my fork.

"It - it's okay."

I kept eating as Laura turned to her children. "Go back upstairs."

"But-" Lexa started.

"I said go back upstairs."

They cast another look at me, then left. I shoved another sausage into my mouth.

I flinched when Laura gently touched my shoulder, and she pulled her hand back quickly. "Jane, James said once you're done eating I should take you upstairs and get you some… some clean clothes. Alright?"

Another sip of orange juice. "Alright."

"Good." She stepped away, towards my bed, and after a moment I heard fabric rustling. I whipped around to see her straightening up the covers.

"You don't have to do that," I said urgently, half-rising from my seat.

"It's fine, I'm just-"

"You don't have to!"

She paused, watched me warily. After a moment she let the blankets fall back to the mattress. "Okay. Alright."

"I can do it myself," I said.

"You don't have to," she said. "There are maids that come down and-"

"I don't want to be any trouble," I insisted.

"It's not any trouble," she said, keeping her voice gentle. "I'm sure Master Benedikt would prefer the maids do it."

I hesitated, then settled back into my chair. "If… that's what he prefers."

"I'm certain it is," she said, her voice confident. "He wouldn't want you worrying about something silly like that."

Silly. I remembered Vanessa nearly breaking my fingers when I had moved her favorite blanket to the couch instead of leaving it below the house.

Silly, I suppose. I went back to my meal.

"Master Benedikt wants to have a little get-together at the end of the week," Laura said. "Some of the upper class, you know. Wants to show them how much nicer you're treated here. Personally, I don't think you'll be - erm, I'm not sure if a week's long enough to - I mean to say-"

"I look like shit."

"I didn't-"

"You didn't. But I look like shit." Nathan was right. Swearing helped relax my muscles, calmed the anxious buzz in my stomach. I took another drink of juice.

I heard Laura approach, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her rest one hand on the desk. "You look like you've had a very shitty time, yes."

I would have scoffed, but I had scrambled egg in my mouth.

"Do you want my opinion?"

It was a bit bizarre to have somebody ask for permission to tell me something. "Yes?"

"I'd say you're about ninety pounds, soaking wet. I'd say that's about fifty pounds lighter than a girl your age should be. You're covered in scars. You've got bruises that might not be healed up in a week. You won't be looking the way he wants you to look by the time the party's going to happen."

I looked up at her, my heart pounding. I would embarrass him. I would humiliate him. He would send me back. "I - I can look the way he wants. I can do it. I promise."

Laura looked startled, and I felt my eyes start to burn. "Honey, are you - don't cry, I didn't mean-"

"I can do it," I said tearfully. "I can - I don't want to go back. I don't want him to send me back. Please, I can, I can do it, I can look nicer, I-"

She went to her knees, reaching up to swipe my tears off my cheeks. "Oh, honey, don't cry - if you cry, I'll cry, I'm a crier, don't cry."

It is very hard to stop crying after you've started. I hiccuped, clutched at my stomach, tried to hold in the sobs that were threatening to rip their way out of me. It wasn't working.

"Honey, you won't go back, I promise," she said, and as she predicted she was starting to tear up, too. "Don't - look at me, see? Now I'm going, too. Oh, honey, I promise you won't go back."

I was weak, and it was easy for her to pull me into a tight embrace. She stroked my hair, reassured me. It took a while, but my distress passed, and I was left with my face pressed into her tear-stained shoulder with my arms wrapped tightly around her. She was soft, but there was a firmness beneath her skin, and it felt like certainty. I couldn't remember ever hugging someone before.

When were hugs supposed to stop? Her arms loosened, and she had to push a little before I let her go. She pulled a napkin off the tray and started wiping my face clean of snot and tears. "Let's get you cleaned up. Come on, let's go, up…"

Laura pulled me upright, led me to a door across from my bed, opened it to reveal a small bathroom. She led me to the sink and splashed some cool water on my face, wiping it off with a hand towel. "Let me get the shower started, then you wash up. I'll go get something more comfortable for you to wear, alright?"

I nodded, afraid that speaking would trigger another crying jag. She let me go to fiddle with the bathtub, and I sat on the toilet until she got the shower to the right temperature. "There we go. You've got towels here, and I'll be right back with some clothes. Take your time, okay? Wash your hair, soak a little. Relax. Alright?"

"Alright," I said, my voice thick. "Thank you."

Her face was tender, and she pushed a strand of hair out of my face. "You're welcome, honey. I'll be back."

She left, quietly shutting the bathroom door behind her.

My hands were shaking as I pulled off my filthy clothes. I kicked them aside, then gingerly stepped under the water's spray. Warmth washed over me, sank into me, and I had to lean against the wall so I wouldn't fall to my knees. I looked down at myself, my fingers grazing over where my ribs pressed tightly against my skin. Fifty pounds too skinny, she had said. I imagined looking down at a body whose skin wasn't pulled taut, gripping a stomach or thigh and having my fingers press into something soft. I imagined the scars fading.

There were a handful of bottles on a shelf built into the wall, and I ended up smearing myself with everything I could find. I washed my hair three times, scrubbed my skin raw.

By the time I stepped out of the shower, my fingers were pruny and I felt cleaner than I'd ever been in my life. I wrapped myself up in a forest green towel, and stared into the bronze mirror over the sink.

My eyes were bright blue, peering out from shadowed sockets. My cheeks were hollow, making my long face look gaunt and austere. I puffed them up, imagining how they would look full and rosy.

I looked away from the mirror, grabbing another towel to dry my hair. My hair was the only good thing about my appearance, dark and supple. Vanessa had trimmed the ends herself, making sure it didn't get brittle and frizzy. She couldn't do much more than pull it into a ponytail, but at least it was healthy. I glanced into the mirror again, experimenting with my hair pushed back, pulled forward, ineptly braided.

I liked the way it looked all pulled over one shoulder. It softened my face, at least a little. I walked out of the bathroom with it like that, the towel covering me from my armpits to my knees, and saw Laura jotting notes down in a journal at my desk.

She smiled when she saw me. "There - much better! I've got some clothes for you on the end of the bed. I'll step out and let you get dressed, alright?"

"Thank you," I said, looking down to hide my smile.

"You're welcome, honey."

She left, and I went to pull on the clothes. Some black underwear, dark jeans, black shirt, a green sweater, brown slippers. Once I was dressed I opened my door to let Laura back in. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh, Jane, you clean up so nicely. Look at how pretty you are! We can go upstairs and look at some more clothes for you, if you're ready."

"I'm ready," I said, bolstered by her approval.

x

x

I was not ready.

I stood on a sturdy white ottoman with half a dozen humans fluttering around me, holding up fabric swatches and wrapping measuring tape around every body part they could grab a hold of.

"Skinny. As. A rail," one groused.

"Are you absolutely sure you don't like this pattern?" another asked, desperation in his eyes.

"Stock humans usually have a lot of skin showing, don't they? We can't show her scars, they're just…"

"Maybe some layering over the chest? Make her look a bit, ah, fuller?"

One of them was holding two different pairs of shoes up to me, not saying anything, just gauging my reaction. Every time my eyes lingered on one, she would raise her eyebrows and lift it a bit higher, showing me a different angle. My eyes would stray to the other, and the pattern would repeat. After a few minutes of this, she nodded. "Ballet flats. I totally agree."

"I've got it! I've got it," one announced to the room, snatching up a sketchbook and scribbling furiously. "Sheath dress. Mandarin collar. Sleeveless. Floor length. Forest green. Over it - sheer black jacket, form-fitted, long sleeves, gold beads embroidered on it."

There was a long silence.

"Tom, you beautiful son of a bitch," one finally said, awestruck.

They all pounced on me with renewed vigor, more fabric swatches, more measurements.

I looked up to see Nathan standing in the open doorway, watching silently. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, uncertain. Should I greet him? Should I ignore him? I was in uncharted waters, not knowing how to properly stay afloat.

Fortunately, Nathan made the decision for me.

"The master needs to see her now," he said. The humans all nearly jumped out of their skins, then hurried to help me down and get out of my way.

I quickly went to Nathan's side, and he nodded to the silent group before turning and walking towards the main entryway. I followed silently.

"Benedikt's office is downstairs," Nathan said as he led me to the staircase. "The humans stay on the upper levels, usually. Do you want a tour of the warren?"

"Doesn't Master Benedikt need to see me?" I asked.

"Nah, you just looked tired. Thought I'd give you a break," he said lightly. "Tour?"

We were already going down the stairs, but I paused. "Should I… stay with the tailors? Don't they need to…"

"They've measured every inch of you at least seven hundred thousand times, haven't they?" he asked. "They've got what they need, I think."

He gave me a scrutinizing look. "Unless you want to stay with them. Quality human time."

"But it can't be floor-length because then you can't see the shoes!" came a sudden screech from upstairs. There was a crashing noise, then persistent arguing. I cringed.

"We have fun here," Nathan said, deadpan.

"A little break wouldn't hurt," I said, and Nathan gave me a sunny smile.

"That's what I'm saying! Come on, let's explore the shit out of this place."

We reached the bottom of the stairs, and Nathan pointed to a painting hanging over the doorway that led deeper beneath the house. It looked like a green horn on a shield of gold spots on a black background. "Chasecroft crest. Hunting horn on pean. Very classy. Somewhere around here is a book with all sorts of vampire family heraldry."

He laughed, shaking his head. "'Somewhere around here.' As if Benedikt doesn't keep it under his pillow or some shit."

"Why would he do that?" I asked as he guided me down - to the right, not down the middle towards my room.

"Huh? Oh, the boy's always trying to learn about family lines and shit. Like it matters. I mean, I guess I shouldn't say that. I'm probably the only one who doesn't actually think it matters." His face twisted with disdain. "Your great great grandsire doesn't mean shit when I'm ripping your heart out through your ass."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Do you… do that often?" I asked. He scoffed.

"Not as often as I'd like."

"Oh."

"Yeah, the boy's always tellin' me not to kill people. Always bitching about thinking things through and being political. It's boring. Jane, it's so boring. Jane. Fucking. Boring."

"I see."

"I just think it would be in the master's best interest to put off the party for a while longer," I heard Laura say from further down the hall.

Nathan went still, then pressed himself against the wall, gesturing for me to do the same. We crept forward.

"And you think you're the best judge of that because…?" James said. His voice was low, but unemotional.

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm the best judge," Laura said quickly. "I just think - the girl needs more time to regain her health. If he wants to show her off, wouldn't it be wise to make sure she's in better condition?"

Silence. Nathan caught my eye, gestured to a floor board in front of him, and deliberately stepped over it. I followed his lead, and we inched closer to an open door.

"It's just my opinion, sir."

"Your opinion is noted. That will be all."

Footsteps. Nathan flailed, grabbed the first door handle he could find, and dragged me into a dark room.

We both leaned against the door, our ears pressed to the wood, as the footsteps passed. Nathan relaxed and shot me a grin.

"Snooping again, Nathan?"

I jerked, turning and slamming my back against the door. Nathan turned to give the speaker an exasperated look. "Scaring the shit out of me again, Millie?"

Millecent stood before us, backlit by a lamp on her desk. Her face was as gaunt as mine, thin lines making her look as if she'd been carved from stone. "It's the little things that make life worth living."

"Of course," Nathan said, rolling his eyes.

She turned to me, her grey eyes raking up and down my body. "You look much improved already, Jane."

"Th-thank you," I stammered. "I… feel much improved."

She nodded, a quick jerk of her head, then turned and walked back to her desk. "What is she doing down here, Nathan?"

"We're taking a tour," he said lightly, holding his arms up and pulling himself onto his toes with a full body stretch.

"And snooping." She sat down in a high-backed chair, picking up a pen and examining some papers.

"The snooping was incidental," Nathan said, approaching the desk. I followed him, and sat when he gestured to a much humbler chair in front of the desk. "Not intentional."

"You always say that," she said, making a note on the page in front of her. "And yet you never seem to learn from your mistakes."

"That would imply I regret them! And I, notoriously, regret nothing."

I found myself looking around the room as they spoke. The walls were lined with shelves, books interspersed with human skulls with crystals wedged in their mouths.

"So it would seem."

On the wall behind Millecent's desk was a massive sword, mounted with great care. The fabrics of the rugs and chair cushions were a deep purple, rather than the dark green I had seen throughout the rest of Chasecroft Manor.

"What are you working on?" Nathan asked, leaning forward and tilting his head to see Millecent's paperwork.

"Benedikt's guest list," she replied. "I find it far too... friendly."

"The guest list… is too friendly."

"Most things are," she said tersely. "He has invited too many people. I dislike the idea of so many in our home."

"You realize that's the point of a party, right?"

"A party should be no more than five people and their respective guards."

"See, that - that's why you're not in charge of parties." Nathan leaned back in his chair, scowling. "How many people did he invite?"

Millecent scoffed. "Fifteen!"

"That's not a party! That's a get-together, at best."

"It's too much. It's unnecessary." She leaned back in her seat, fingers clawlike on the ends of her armrests. "Especially for this feeble show of power. They will be expecting more than some waif he picked up in a game of cards."

"So… what, we add in some violence? I can do that." He gave her an urgent look, eyes widened and head tilted forward. "Please let me do that."

She hummed, picking up the page to examine it. "That could shorten the guest list immensely…"

"That's what I'm-" Nathan started before there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Millecent said.

"Enter," Nathan echoed, in a sinister voice. The door opened, footsteps approached, and Nathan leaned against my chair. "Millie, you should get a cat. Like a fluffy white cat, to pet when people come to see you."

Millecent raised an eyebrow.

"It would really add to your supervillain mystique," Nathan insisted as James came to stand on the other side of my chair.

"It has come to my attention that the girl will need more time to recover," James said. He glanced down at me, impassive, and I quickly looked away. "As it stands, her condition is… not worthy of a party."

"Rude," Nathan muttered.

"I agree," Millecent said. "However, his enthusiasm seems to be unchecked by my logic."

"Christ, he's excited about something?" Nathan asked, clapping his hands to his cheeks and widening his eyes in nearly comical distress. "How could we have let this happen!?"

"How could you have let this happen," Millecent corrected, her voice cool and disapproving.

"It's almost like I like him being happy," Nathan said, his hands dropping to his hips and his eyes narrowing. "Fucking sue me."

"I value his safety over his happiness," Millecent said. She crumpled up the guest list in one hand, tossing it into a wastebasket.

"He can't be happy when he's dead," James agreed.

"We manage just fine," Nathan snapped. "And what the fuck is a party going to do to him? Between the three of us, nobody's going to actually have a chance to hurt him."

"Your blind need to support his every reckless action does you no credit," Millecent shot back, her upper lip curling. "Your attitude is not in his best interests."

Nathan bristled, and James cut in. "What Millecent means is that we are in a tense situation. Benedikt isn't like us. He has to work within the bounds of propriety, or risk losing the respect of very powerful vampires."

"Half-breeds must be rarely seen and never heard," Nathan said in a nasally voice, mocking something he must have heard hundreds of times before. "That would make sense if there was another vampire member of the Chasecroft family to run the manor. But there isn't, so he can't just sit around and look pretty the way you want him to."

"He can't just-"

"Step the fuck up? Yes! He can! You just keep telling him he can't!" Nathan snapped. "You are the worst parents ever."

"We are not his parents," James snarled. I flinched away. When I glanced up I saw him reach up to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to control his sudden flash of temper. "We… are not his parents. But we are sworn to his protection. Regardless of what you think, we want what is best for him. He's spent his life building ties with these people, and we won't let him throw it all away on a whim."

"He listens to you, Nathan," Millecent said. Her voice was much calmer now, her expression earnest. "If you tell him our concerns, he may see reason. If you care for him at all, you would at least try to speak to him."

I watched Nathan from the corner of my eye, saw his jaw clench and his fingers twitch as if he wanted to tear at something. After a moment, he turned and walked to the door. "Fine. No promises."

He slammed the door shut behind him before I could even go to stand. I looked at Millecent, uncertain. She sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair. "I don't suppose this is going to work."

"I shouldn't think so," James agreed softly. He looked down to me again. "You mentioned she was acquired at an early age."

"Oh, yes," she said, staring up at the ceiling. She bared her teeth. "Highly illegal."

"Perhaps her previous owners can be brought to the party," he suggested. "Made an example of."

"I considered it." She considered me. "These soft fools would protest. The fact that she wasn't turned as a child could be considered a loophole."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't understand how I'm… illegal."

Millecent raised her eyebrows, but didn't shut me down. "You aren't illegal yourself, girl. Owning human children, however, is a grave crime… or would be, if the laws were enforced properly."

"I still don't…" I stopped myself, not wanting to step out of place.

"You know what Nathan is, yes?" James asked, turning to face me as he leaned against Millecent's desk.

"A… vampire?" I guessed. His lips twitched into a small smile.

"Yes. A vampireling, to be precise, someone who was turned into a vampire as a child. Throughout history, vampirelings have been abused and mistreated, typically in the form of child rings. They were made to fight, usually to the death."

"I destroyed the child rings, later in my reign," Millecent said. "Made turning children illegal, as I considered it to be unnecessary cruelty."

"Your reign?" I asked. Her left eye twitched. "I'm sorry."

"No need," she said, a bit stiff. "You understand vampires are led by a monarch, on the Bloodsoaked Throne."

"I heard that there was a queen," I said slowly.

"Yes," Millecent said. "Until I was overthrown, I was queen. I held our people in check and maintained our population to the best of my ability. With James as my loyal right hand, of course."

James dipped his head, his humility betrayed by the wry smile on his face.

"Why were you overthrown?" I asked. "I mean - I shouldn't-"

"An interest in history is a favorable quality," she said. "But I see no reason, at this time, to share my own history with you."

I ducked my head. "I'm sorry."

"You are forgiven." She stood from her chair. "Can you read, Jane?"

"A - a little. My lady."

"Hm." She went to one of the shelves, her long fingers grazing over the spines of old books. After a moment she pulled one down, then turned and held it out to me. "Literacy is also a favorable quality."

I took the book with trembling fingers. There was no title on the worn black cover, and it was heavy in my hands. "Thank you."

"Do you know your way back to your room?" she asked. "I'm sure you've had enough excitement for one day."

"Yes, my lady, I think so," I said.

"Very well. You are dismissed." She returned to her seat, not sparing me another look. I stood, ducking my head before walking to the door.

"Jane," James said, and I stopped, turning to face him.

His head was tilted, as if he was examining me. "What do you think of Master Benedikt?"

I looked down at the book in my hands, as if it would have answers. When I looked back at him, my voice was firm. "He saved me."

James looked at Millecent, who examined her paperwork as she spoke.

"Stock humans have been known to strike up a certain degree of… fellowship… with their masters. Perhaps you will have more influence over Benedikt than the rest of us." She looked up from her work, her eyes keen. "You would use that influence wisely, wouldn't you, Jane?"

The idea of having any sort of influence was baffling. Frightening.

Very, very interesting.

"Of course," I said. "He saved me. I want what's best for him."

A small smile twisted her thin lips. "That will be all, Jane."

I closed the door softly behind me, then ran to my room. I was winded by the time I reached it, closing my door and laying the book open on my desk.

The first page had a long, fumbling title. 'Common Sanguinarian Law as decreed by Her Majesty and Her Majesty's Justiciars, 1482.'

I turned the page, and started to read.

x

author's note

nearly 5k words! it only took me a month to write them... sorry about that. i'm dealing with some irl stuff rn. the next chapter will be the actual party!

anyway, let me know what you think so far! thanks for reading 333