Page 13 of Fallen Thorns
“Hmm. Not exactly. That was my first attempt. I know I said before that I was confident it would work, but I honestly wasn’t sure. You were pretty far gone when I…” They shook their head, frantically waving their hands. “But, you know, it did.” They lifted their chin in pride. “And I think I’m going to really like you.”
“Oh.” I didn’t expect to hear something so kind. I never did. “Wow. Thanks?”
“You’re nineteen, right?”
“Yeah. Just.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“I was nineteen when I turned,” they beamed, almost fondly. “So we’ll forever be blessed with the beauty of youth.” Their voice turned into a sing-song, their teeth flashing again. Not sharp.
I laughed. We were joking about death — my death, for that matter — and yet I was still laughing. It was an unsure reaction though; normal interactions with strangers don’t flow for too long with me.
“You said there were others?” I picked my mug back up again, inhaling deeply before taking another sip.
“Many. You’ve already met Casper; then there’s his boyfriend, Ben, he’s such an angel. I think you three will get along well. Eternal goths with hearts of gold. They’re in a band, you know? Forever Red? They got quite big a few years back...”
Mars continued speaking, words marked with expressive hand gestures, but though I was looking at them, I was zoning out. The room suddenly shrunk, and I could no longer make out Mars’ features. I was dead. Murdered. By someone I thought I liked. I felt betrayed, but it was unlike any betrayal I’d experienced before. No, this betrayal cut deep into my bones. I’d let my guard down, stepped out of my comfort zone, and now I wasn’t even... me.
“Sorry. I’m rambling. I’ll just let you meet them; I’m sure they will love to meet you.” And just like that, I was being led out of the room and into a dimly lit corridor with oil paintings that hung haphazardly along the wall. My legs walked without command, the path paved by the solid form in front of me.
They were still talking, I realised, though I can never recall what they said.
It was the change of rooms that finally broke me from my daze. This time, we were in a much airier room with more decorations and stylish furnishings. There were about a dozen people in the room, some sat around a fireplace, deep in conversation, others milling around. One person instantly captured my attention: reclined over a chaise lounge, they were smoking a cigar in a pleated skirt that flowed elegantly over the side. I then spotted Casper, and whom I presumed to be Ben. He was a few inches shorter than his boyfriend, dressed in similar attire with a mop of thick, black curls on his head and the brightest green eyes. I understood what Mars meant by ‘angel’.
“That’s him, yeah?” He tipped his head in Casper’s direction, yet looked straight at me, a boyish grin across his freckled face.
I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Every face in the room swung in my direction, assessing me with intrigue. Six million eyes pierced needles into my skin. The best I could do was shrink into the shelter of Mars’ back, instinctively picking at my itchy shirt sleeves; the height comparison not helping.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Ben lowered his tone and edged towards me. “I’m Ben, by the way.” He held out his ringed hand, nails coated in chipped black polish. I just nodded and introduced myself with a forced smile.
“Look at that, Mars made themself a pet,” chaise lounge person piped up. I recoiled.
“Shut up, Lawrence,” Mars snarled. All eyes flitted between the two of them now.
“Just kidding,” Lawrence took a dramatic, long drag of his cigar. “You saved someone. Good going.”
“Ignore him,” Mars whispered only to me.
I shouldn’t have let the comment get to me, but surrounded by all those inhuman creatures, who all shared the same belief that I was some helpless human boy in desperate need of saving, I felt so weak and feeble — a rag doll, discarded in the street, to be stuck in the window of a charity shop, waiting for new owners to claim me. If my heart was still beating, I would have felt it pounding in my skull.
“Now, that is no way to treat a guest, Lawrence.”
A calming but assertive voice travelled from the other side of the room. I was shocked I hadn’t noticed her yet; the second she opened her mouth, the entire room fell silent.
I soon learned her name was Marianne. The Georgian Vampress and founder of The Thorns (I wondered briefly what she named them before Mars’ input). She stood before us then, donned in lavish 18thcentury garments. Strawberry blond ringlets were pinned high upon her head, and her face was pasted with white makeup and bright red blush. If not for her serious expression, I would have interpreted this guise as a jest. I would come to learn she frequently dressed herself in period clothing, for no other reason than she could. Though at the time, I viewed it as a welcoming costume; she was asserting her dominance.
“Mars, my dear, care to introduce us?”
Again, I was nothing but an object on display.
“Our lady, Marianne,” Mars addressed in an overly polite manner, spanning their arms across the room, “and my dear Thorns, please welcome our newest member, Arlo Everett. He’s nineteen, a student and...” they paused.Was my discomfort that obvious, even from behind them?“Sorry, I’ll let him speak for himself.” I know they thought they were being helpful and respectful but it made me feel worse. The damage was done.
“Hi,” was all I managed, spoken with a cracked voice and a clogged throat.
The entire room waited for me to continue, but I had nothing more to say. I had been thrust into this brand-new world over night, and the more I stood and took in the surroundings, the less sense everything made.
The smoke of Lawrence’s cigar reached my nostrils, as did the perfume of every single person in the room; my senses overloading.
“Welcome to The Thorns, Arlo. Welcome to your new family.” Marianne smiled.
