Page 24 of The Sanguine Selection
“What happens when someone goes back?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I chose to serve.”
Her words startle me, and I look at her with new eyes. “You were part of The Selection?”
“Twenty years ago.”
“Why… why did you choose to stay?”
Her brown gaze holds mine steady as she answers. “For security. For the pleasure that they give you.”
My brows knit together in confusion. Security I can understand, but pleasure? “What pleasure?”
Lena clutches at the white ruffle at her neck. “You are untouched, and it’s not my place to tell you… but the feeling they can give when they take their fill of your blood is indescribable. Enough that I’ve never looked back on my past.”
I tremble at this, because deep down, I know she speaks the truth.
If I stay, I might very well lose my soul.
12
Oxana
My head is spinningbut my belly is full. Perhaps a little too full, as a burp creeps up my throat and I try to swallow it down. Never in my life have I been in a situation where food is abundant, where empty platters are quickly replaced with freshly cooked and perfectly seasoned meat. Where bowls with mounds of mashed potatoes bathed in swaths of butter are steaming hot and ready to be gobbled down. Where loaves of bread pulled right from the oven fill the room with the smells of home.
Of home…
Ignoring the ache in my chest, I wipe my mouth and pretend to have manners but quickly realize I’m not the only girl to devour her food. A girl a year or two younger than me, her arms like twigs, eats the potatoes right from the serving bowl. A pair of twins sits towards the end of the table, delicately using their forks and knives to bring small slivers of food to their mouths, eyes looking down at the rest of us in disdain. No doubt they hail from the second ring.
It’s now, dragging my eyes from the twins, that I even realize the expanse of the dining area. The tables must be as long as my entire house, perhaps even more. Dozens of wooden chairs housing women anywhere from a young sixteen to those in their late thirties are polished, gleaming under the soft lighting of flickering candles. Above us, the arched ceiling is painted with the snarling faces of demons with gray bodies ripping flesh from the pale necks of naked female victims.
I swallow hard, and so do the others who followed my gaze. Fear begins to sink in and the gauzy dress we’ve been put in feels like a beacon of death, the way Papa told me the dead used to be dressed in their finest as they were laid to rest below the earth. Lambs for slaughter. Ripe fruit ready for picking.
I glance from face to face, wondering at how very different we all are, marveling that this many different faces could be looking back at me. One girl has hair a shade of orange I’ve never seen before, another has one thick eyebrow where there should be two. One of the oldest of us waddles around the table, her belly heavy with child. I’ve never seen a pregnant person before, only imagined it in my mind, from the stories Papa would tell of Mom when she was pregnant with me.
It’s incredible, to grow a life within you and I press my hands to my own belly somehow knowing I’ll never get that chance. No one speaks as forks, knives, and spoons are laid on the impressive table, not even a whisper of wonder, encouragement, empathy. It’s the calm before the storm, I can almost feel the tension rippling across my skin.
A pain against my palm has me relaxing my fingers around the necklace, and as a set of double doors swings open, I quickly place the necklace over my head but keep the charm behind me, resting against my spine, covered by my hair. The way Lena spoke of it confirms that it has some value and I do not wish for it to be stolen. Perhaps the chain alone wouldn’t be worth the effort.
Lords Vikkon and Navar saunter in with a fluidity in their movements that feels almost unnatural. They flash smiles at us in what is supposed to be a disarming sort of way, but their teeth are too white, almost animalistic, feral. And it just makes them look scary. Someone whispers the word, “Vampires,” behind me. The face of Elias flashes in my mind, of his lips on my neck, tasting my blood, the sting of his bite.
Peering at the Lords, I notice many similarities to Elias. The stillness of their actions, the pale skin, foreboding smiles. There is something so distinctly inhuman about them, something that reminds me of Elias. These Lords, indeed, are vampires. My blood runs cold. The instinct is to run from them, to get away, to hide all my skin from their hungry eyes. But I’m stuck, a prisoner without shackles.
Lord Navar steps forward, stroking his long, black beard. “Welcome to the Sanguine Selection. You are the lucky thirty-five, women who have the potential of being the chosen one to wake our kings.” His voice is melodic, alluring, soothing almost. “As there is no higher honor for a human female, precautions must remain in place and testing must be done. As Jasper informed you, a sampling of your blood will be taken and the high ranking lords of our coven, Libarryn, will taste them all. It is our hope that one or more of you will stand out amongst the others, that a few of you will be exquisite and unique enough to make the cut and give us cause for a second round. Now, if you will, please follow me.”
With a sweep of his tailcoat, he heads back through the door, Lord Vikkon on his heels. Tentatively, we push our chairs back and stand, no one wanting to be the first to follow. With an annoyed huff, the twins mumble, “Well I guess we’ll go first,” and head out the door, their long, auburn braids, swaying behind them.
The rest of us hurry after them into a narrow stone corridor. Niches carved into the walls house grotesque statues illuminated by candles, the wavering shadows making the creatures appear to be moving. I can almost hear them growling.
Our bare feet pad along the cold floor and I wrap my arms around myself trying to stave off the chill that these flimsy dresses do nothing to suppress. On the hottest day of summer I’d still be wearing more than this.
An orange glow up ahead has me craning my neck to see what awaits us. I scent burning wood of a fire but something else as well, a heady, enticing smell that has my mouthwatering but not for hunger.
Funneled into this next room, the lucky thirty-five as we have been referred to are lined up against an empty gray wall. Directly across from us, perched in elaborate, plush chairs are men and women so hauntingly beautiful that I almost can’t look at them, but at the same time can’t tear my gaze away. Dressed in sharp suits, and curve hugging gowns, hair perfectly styled, facial hair neatly trimmed—they must be the high ranking individuals Lord Navar spoke of and amongst their ranks are Lords Vikkon and Navar themselves.
To my right a massive hearth houses a blazing fire but the hearth itself has my breath catching. For this is no ordinary fireplace. Carved into a great, gaping maw, this fire roars behind a set of sharp, stone teeth, ensconced inside the mouth of a beast.
It’s terrifying.
