Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
“Don’t be silly. Those Romanians and Italians and so help us the Germans will never let go their iron-tight grip. But don’t for a second think it isn’t possible once other measures are first made.” She brings her face so close, lowers her voice to a near inaudible whisper. “I have friends all over the world. Vampire Emperors in Africa, north and south. Siberia. To the farthest wastes of Canada and the tip of Argentina. Australia. It is not so farfetched to think we can rule the world someday. Remember that story about the bat and the wolf and the bloody moon we made up every night during our dark days?” She cradles her brother’s face. “This news I brought you tonight, it’s nothing at all. Just a bump in the road we’ve paved over countless histories together. Rise with me. Take the next step. Everyone is ready.”
Markadian stares back at his sister, at first dead-eyed, with no joy in his face, no life, not even a breath.
Then he turns his face fully, lays his eyes upon Kaleb at last, still naked on the bed, sheets tucked around his waist. Kaleb, watching all of this, listening, feeling like he is ten steps behind.
Though Markadian looks at Kaleb, it’s as if he doesn’t see him, like he’s looking through him.
Then Markadian smiles. “How very less boring everything became in an instant.” He giggles, stifles it, then smiles wider. All the dots and smears of blood on his face spread farther apart when he smiles, making him appear demented. “An answer to every single one of my problems … in such a cute package.”
“Be easy on him. He is innocent.” Ashara leans in. “And … perhaps still useful.”
Those particular words twist Kaleb’s stomach. “U-Useful?” The word slips out before he can stop it, quickly presses fingers to his lips. “Sorry,” he breathes through them.
Markadian stares at Kaleb for far, far too long, unsettlingly long. Then he asks his sister, “What did you do with Tristan?”
Ashara smirks at the side of her brother’s face. “You’ll find this hilarious. It’s been so long since he’s seen me, he forgot my special talent. He tried to give me a dream … and thus gave himself a dream instead.”
Markadian’s smile cracks even worse, showing his bloodied teeth. “Funny,” he says.
“He’s asleep until we decide what we want to do with him.”
“So many options,” says Markadian, his ghoulish eyes still looking through Kaleb. “So many entertaining options. I think I already know what I want. What I would love. What would … make me so … so happy.” His smile has become a toothy grin. Another half laugh jumps from his throat. “Fucking perfect.”
“And what shall we do with our honored violinist?”
Markadian finally comes back, closes his mouth, his eyes on Kaleb fully. “My Blood, you are dismissed. Please see your way back to your chambers. Practice your music. You will be … the star of the show tonight, and a star must be prepared.”
After a moment of uncertainty, Kaleb slips out of the bed. He glances at the floor, at the bed, realizes he has no clothes. “I …” He peers at Ashara, at Lord Markadian. “I think my outfit seems to have … um, to have …”
“A performance to be had in front of all the court of gods,” Markadian goes on, ignoring his obvious plea, “the biggest stage you have known or will ever know again. Go, Kaleb.”
Kaleb hesitates once more as Markadian and Ashara stare at him in silence. He realizes he can’t very well strip the bed of its sheets, so he surrenders them, then awkwardly pads his way out of the room naked.
Outside the doors, the female twins called Miss May stand guard. Kaleb continues on, hands covering his privates, as he makes his way down the unfamiliar hallway.
Eight or nine random turns later, Kaleb is no closer to finding his room or anywhere familiar to help him there. He’s passed many faces, and many faces have turned to watch him go. One stifled a laugh. Kaleb’s face red, hands covering himself as best as he can, he continues walking, over and over telling himself in his mind: “I am strong, I have resolve and fortitude.”
Ashara was speaking Hindi.
At least he’s ninety percent sure she was.
Kaleb finds his thoughts racing in the absence of having the dignity of even an illusion of clothes on his body. He worries over Ashara’s words, how they so quickly turned Markadian’s mood dark. Kaleb couldn’t help feeling like the news somehow directly related to him. Ashara’s body language. The fact that she spoke another language, hiding whatever it was she told her brother in front of Kaleb.
What Ashara may not have realized is that Kaleb has read a lot of books over the past two and a half decades, living in the cells beneath the House of Vegasyn. He’s picked up so many random pieces of information, none of which have ever proven useful even in idle conversation.