Page 7 of A Whisper in the Dark

“It was not you I hated,” she whispers fiercely, her titiangaze darting around us, abrupt as the movements of a fly. She’s not going to let them find her, then. She’s going to run.

Hope and desperation battle in my chest. I grapple for her hand, saying, “Mother, wherever you’re going, please take me with—”

“It was myself,” she rushes on, talking over me as though I haven’t made a sound. “I knew this day would come. I didn’t have the strength to kill you, but I also didn’t know how to prepare you for it. How to tell a child that she had been born to die. Now I’ve just damned us both.”

“Then help me,” I blurt, reaching for her, but she’s already turning away.

“Tell your brothers and sisters I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Mother!” I hiss desperately. Gabriela is coming toward us. Her footsteps echo in my eardrums. “You owe me this! Please!”

At the end of the hall, my mother glances back, just once. Then she’s gone.

Less than a second later, Gabriela’s warm hand touches my arm. The smell of her rose-scented shampoo drifts past. “I’m sorry, but there’s no time,” she whispers. “If the king changes his mind or comes back and sees you haven’t left yet…”

I nod, blinking fast to hold the tears at bay. Her hand slides down and takes mine. She gives me one more second to gather my composure, and then Gabriela and I hurry silently down the hall and into a stairwell only used by staff. My footsteps make a clattering sound against the metal steps, echoing in the confined space.

Gabriela moves faster than I ever knew her capable, and within a minute, we’re bursting through a side door and the smell of freshly mowed grass assaults my senses. It’s raining again. Or maybe it never stopped. Through the downpour, I see that a car is already waiting. No more limousines for me—this is the vehicle I’ve seen our gardener get into. Fat drops pound against its roof with such ferocity they sound like gunshots.

I rush to get into the backseat, wary of making anyone wait on me. When it occurs to me that I don’t hear Gabriela’s footsteps, I look back. She’s standing in a shadow near the door, her expression sad but strong at the same time. Why did she stop? Why isn’t she running to my side?

Reality hits like an unforgiving wind. Of course, Gabriela can’t come with me. She’s a slave, and they’d hunt her down, forcing her right back here.

By the blood. If anyone suspects that she knew about my true heritage, they’ll take her life. Without hesitation. She’s already risked much by, I suspect, arranging this ride.

The moment I realize we’ll never see each other again, tears well in my wells and wet my cheeks as they fall. Raphael starts to close the door, but Gabriela rushes forward, and he falters. In a rush of warmth and familiar smells, the small human cups my face in her work-roughened hands. “Stop crying,mija, there’s no time. I will find you, okay? Keep your head down and do as you’re told.I will find you.”

Sniffing, I can only manage a nod, and Gabriela presses a harried kiss to my cheek. She exchanges a look with Mei Lien, so brief I wonder if I imagined it, and pulls back. A moment later, the door closes between us, and I’m watching her shrink through a layer of foggy glass as she retreats.

Only until we turn left, and she’s no longer within sight, do I settle into my seat. The three humans crowded in the space with me don’t say a word. The tickle at the back of my throat—the thirst of a vampire freshly Awoken—chooses that moment to return. I seek Alexei’s gaze in the mirror, hoping for comfort or kindness, but he’s focused on the road. When I glance at Raphael, though, he’s watching me.

“May I know where we’re going?” I venture, an obvious waver in my voice.

The dark-haired human says nothing. As the silence stretches, I dart a glance toward Mei Lien, recalling the look she shared with Gabriela. She pretends to be absorbed in the city passing by. A rare flash of rebellion blinds me for a moment. Maybe I should take advantage of their reluctance, their distraction. I’m still a vampire, even if I’m only half of one, and I’m stronger than them. I could escape this car if I tried.

Then I look at Alexei again. I stare at that aging profile, the curve of his ear, a sight more familiar to me than even my own mother’s face. If I broke free and did any damage to the car, to the reputation of the Vampire King—more than I already have, that is—Alexei would be punished for it. They all would be.

I soon realize we’re driving down side roads. A tremor of fear travels down my spine. What if I’m wrong about their good intentions? What if they’re taking me somewhere to kill me?

At this point, maybe it would be an act of mercy.

I don’t recognize any of the businesses or street names, which means we must be in Wardthorpe. Long ago, Father forbade everyone in the mansion from coming here. It’s the biggest district in the city, a place for vampires who defy the king’s color-coded system and free humans. Their freedom comes at a steep price, though. The vampires exist without the protection of guards or the royal purse strings. The unclaimed humans may be fed upon or outright killed. They, too, are forced to find other ways to pay their bills.

Alexei drives us out of Wardthorpe and into more familiar territory. The dilapidated homes and shops of Oldbel crawl past. Here, the currencies are anything vital for survival. It is everything opposite the home I’ve known until now.

During my upbringing, I wasn’t resourceful like Beatrix or strong like Valerie. I hid away with my books and my growing things. I spent most of my efforts coaxing flowers from the ground.

In this world, flowers are nothing but colorful things to be stepped on.

“His Majesty assigned you to the sewer sector,” Raphael mutters, startling me.

“Wh-what does that mean? Sewer sector?” I repeat, feeling as if I might vomit all over the backseat. To my shame, I’ve never taken much interest in the politics of New Ve, never expressed any interest in exploring the inner workings of the society Alexander Travesty has built. All that affected me was the Awakening and the color of my eyes… and even that is shrouded in a veil of vague explanations and unanswered questions. Once, I heard my cousin challenging Alexander’s logic for manipulating our very DNA to match his vision, but one day Marcus fell remarkably silent on the subject.

“…a squadron of humans assigned to every district,” Raphael is explaining. I force myself to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. “They patrol the underground and ensure our citizens’ survival from…”

His hesitation is enough to fill in the blanks.

Decades ago, before New Ve was formed, a virus swept the world. Humans and vampires alike can contract it, and the result is similar to rabies, except these victims don’t die. They roam, mindless and endlessly hungry. We call them weepers—amongst their many other gruesome symptoms, victims of the virus are constantly sobbing, crying, and wailing.

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