CHAPTER EIGHT
8
Morwenna
Dear mind,
Ugh. This is hopeless. Pointless. What does it take to escape from someone you hate, especially when that someone is a vampire, specifically the Lord of the Vimics, a.k.a. Lord Draven Vimic? But I’ll call him Mr. Fang Fang with the Sparkle Face because all I see in him is... I hate him. Now, I know running away is one of the toughest, yet most foolish things to do, considering he’s a vampire and he’ll inevitably find me.
Surveying his manor, there are thousands of vampire guards patrolling every inch, every room enough to get hopelessly lost, that’s for sure. And don’t even get me started on the outside. I don’t even know how many rooms are in this vast, luxurious manor, but they’re all under vampire guard.
It’s only been three minutes, and I’m already feeling doomed.
“Oh, you must be Lord Draven’s plaything?” A seasoned and laced voice with a hint of faded grandeur voice cut through the air tinged with strain. I turn to see an elderly woman, though she doesn’t appear old; perhaps in her late forties or fifties, or maybe early fifties. Is fifty considered old?
“Excuse me!” I reply, clearing my throat, caught off guard by her words. I can’t quite gauge her age; I thought she might be a vampire, but her skin lacks the typical paleness. Is she human? No, she doesn’t quite fit that description either.
She raked me with a slow, critical glance. “Unbelievable. Lord Draven spares you, and this is what we get?” Her voice dripped with disdain.
“I never asked to be spared!” I mutter under my breath, glancing up at Draven, still seated on his throne a distance away. I managed to leave the spot near him, but now I’m stuck here among his subjects, with his gaze piercing through me. Damn it, he’s still watching me.
The woman sighed, a weary rasp. “Look,” she rasped, “whether you like it or not, you’re one of us now. Time to get to work.”
My voice, barely a whisper, cracked. “W-Work?”
“Yes, work. Do I have to really repeat myself?” the woman scoffed. It’s not like I’m surprised to work; he’s made it clear my life will never be the same. I just never thought I’d start working now...
Morwenna Petrova, that’s my name. A 26-year-old girl who’s maybe a bit lazy. Well, I won’t call myself lazy; I can cook, some dishes at least. I’ve prepared burnt meals before and good meals too, depending on my mood or if I put my mind to it. But anything beyond that? No thanks. Work was my kryptonite. And now I have to work for Draven, AKA Mr. Fang Fang Sparkle Face (a moniker I wouldn’t dare utter aloud).
I know my life will be miserable, especially now that this lady who might look young but clearly isn’t, has mentioned the dreaded word W-word. My stomach churned.
Then my mind flashes. “If I may ask, what kind of work will I be doing?” I questioned, for maybe one or two reasons. One, would it involve bloodletting for Draven’s...vampirely needs? Or will I be... intimate with him? Just the thought made me gulp; the taste of his... well, let’s not go there.
The woman, clearly preoccupied with barking orders at the remaining servants, barely acknowledged me.
The throne room bustled with pre-work activity, the lingering brothers of sin having already dispersed. The dim, candlelit atmosphere felt oppressive. How anyone could navigate this near-darkness was beyond me. Vampires, of course, had night vision on their side. The Chimeran servants, I presumed, were accustomed to the gloom unlike me.
I glance up at Draven again, but he’s gone. Well, that was fast. Oh well, whatever.
Her voice snapped, “Any task assigned, you complete it. No questions.” A curt answer, devoid of reassurance.
“What sort of tasks?” I persisted, my stomach clenching. Her response lacked the tranquility I craved.
A sneer twisted her lips. “Tasks that require obedience, not interrogation. Be prepared to work when called upon.”
“And these tasks... do they involve working for...” I hesitated the words catching in my throat, realizing it was inappropriate to address Draven so informally in front of others, especially as his servant. No, Morwenna, this shouldn’t be so difficult. Taking a deep breath, I forced out the name, “Lord Draven?”
The woman’s expression remained impassive as she responded, “Yes. You are already his servant, his... Plaything.”
I internally cursed.
So, working here meant I would be intimate with him. The thought made me uncomfortable, and I resented being labeled as his mere plaything.
Under her breath, I caught her murmured words, “I doubt you’ll last here for long anyway.”
“Huh?” I questioned, catching her statement.
Her brow furrowed slightly. “You won’t endure here for long... If you prove useless, Lord Draven will discard you like the others,” she stated matter-of-factly.
So, I wasn’t the first to serve him. Her words sparked curiosity about what fate befell those who failed to satisfy him. Did he dispose of them? Given his nature, engaging in illicit activities such as blood collection, it wouldn’t surprise me. But should I concern myself with that? I was uncertain. The woman continued, “All it takes is one mistake, and he’ll dispose of you.”
My breath hitched. Not fear, exactly. More like a sickening validation of my suspicions. So, he does kill humans? And here I was, naively believing he had some kind of pact with the mayor of Chimera City. How incredibly gullible could that mayor be?
The woman’s words were clearly meant to intimidate, but they barely registered. I’m good at hiding fear. Very good. “What does it take to mess up?” I inquired. To meet one’s demise or perhaps flee from this place, though the likelihood is slim, very slim.
Surprise flickered across her face, but she answered. “Mess up!” she snapped.
Not quite the response I anticipated, but then again, I wasn’t exactly expecting a profound answer from her. If Theresa were here, she’d probably berate me for not cherishing my life, blah blah blah... I should count myself fortunate that Lord Draven spared me, blah blah blah... typical Theresa nonsense.
A sigh escaped me. Running wouldn’t help. Defeat tasted bitter. But I detest the notion of defeat. “I’m prepared to commence work,” I asserted, swallowing hard. “Give me whatever tasks you have; it’s not as though I have any other choice,” I added with a hint of resignation.
“You’ll begin at dawn,” she replied.
“With this gloom, I doubt the sun even knows where we are,” I muttered.
“Then start now!” she snapped in frustration.
“Now?”
“Considering your ingratitude for Lord Draven’s supposed mercy, perhaps you should. Time waits for no one.” She gestured to someone unseen.
Whatever. “Asshole,” I muttered under my breath, about to turn and leave. Big mistake. She caught it.
The woman’s voice dripped with indignation. “Excuse me, but did you just call me...”
“I didn’t call you an asshole!” I retorted, though she certainly resembled one.
Her outrage only intensified. “I am the housekeeper of Lord Draven’s Manor, responsible for the smooth running of this entire household, and...”
She puffed out her chest, clearly preparing to unleash a torrent of self-importance.
“Blah blah blah,” I cut in, “I don’t give a fig about your title. Whether you’re the queen of Chimera or Draven’s personal sock washer makes no difference to me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You have a sharp tongue for a servant, young lady.” A bony finger jabbed in my direction. “If not for your association with the master, I wouldn’t have given a thought to end you at this moment...”
“How utterly terrifying,” I drawled, a sardonic lilt in my voice.
“I’m coming for you!” she huffed and stormed off, her threats dissipating into the vastness of the castle. A moment ago, I braced myself for a duel, not a disgruntled retreat. My interactions with her had caused whispers among fellow Chimerans.
The encounter left me unsettled. Perhaps it was her venomous tone, hinting at a darkness hidden beneath the surface. Maybe it was the way she spoke of Draven, mentioning past executions for displeasing him. A shiver ran down my spine.
Work at Draven Manor was never dull, that much was certain. There were those forced into servitude, like myself, those bound by family obligations like Theresa, and a few, like me, who simply couldn’t find better prospects. But that blowhard housekeeper? Power seemed to intoxicate her, fueling a delusion of grandeur that would make a queen blush.
That woman was so self-absorbed, and her tone suggested she had the power to ruin me. What if she went to report me to Draven or one of the Brothers of Sin, who had powers? Besides, she had mentioned that Draven had eliminated people before my arrival because they didn’t meet his standards for satisfaction.
Swallowing hard, I wrestled with the absurdity of the situation. I doubt I’ll ever meet his standards, especially considering I don’t back down from an argument.
Stubbornness had landed me in a predicament so twisted, even a seasoned gossip columnist like myself wouldn’t believe it. And what was the argument even about? Him. Shoving his manhood down my throat because I wouldn’t budge. A humiliating experience I never wanted, especially with him. Talk about a power play. It’s ironic, really. Daniel, the guy I’ve been seeing, would probably give anything for that kind of… intimacy. But no, our relationship is a whole different can of worms I’m not opening today.
Reflecting on it now, I can’t believe I had Draven’s dick in my mouth.
So, focusing on the current situation, I swallowed nervously. Should I apologize to her, just to ease my own life?
“I don’t even know her name,” I muttered under my breath.
Apparently, I wasn’t being quite as discreet as I thought. “Lady Jen,” a voice piped up, distinctly feminine. I whipped around, surprised someone had overheard me. Standing there was a young woman, my age maybe, though something felt off. Like she wasn’t quite who she seemed.
“Lady Jen?” I repeated, confirming the name hung in the air.
“She might be a bit of a dragon, prone to dramatics and the occasional tantrum,” the girl chuckled, “but you’ll get used to her, just like everyone else around here.”
“Oh,” escaped my lips, a weak acknowledgement. Frankly, I doubted getting used to this bizarre situation was even an option.
I’ll probably get used to it.
My stomach churned. What if Lady Jen, with her icy glare and steely resolve, decides to make me the scapegoat for everything gone wrong? I shuddered. “I hope...” I muttered, the words barely audible.
“Well, bless your brave heart,” a voice chirped beside me. “You’re the first soul here who hasn’t crumpled at the thought of Lady Jen!”
“Oh, really?” I muttered. “She seems... manageable.” A blatant lie, but facing my fear head-on was exactly my forte.
“Manageable? Everyone trembles at her wrath. Trust me, you don’t want to see her unleash it.”
“Oh, I’ve seen it,” I retorted, a sliver of defiance in my voice. “And let’s just say ‘terrified’ wasn’t the word that came to mind.” A heavy sigh escaped my lips, betraying the bravado. Deep down, I knew I’d be scared once she starts assigning tasks to me.
The girl grinned, revealing a dimple in her cheek. “Then perhaps you can teach me a thing or two. By the way,” she held up a lantern, casting a warm glow on her features. As our eyes met, I noticed how pale she was, “I’m Elara Vance. And you are...?”
“A vampire,” I blurted, my voice laced with disdain. “You’re a vampire?”
“Yes, I am,” she confirmed, looking a bit confused by my reaction, though it was true. “And...”
“I hate vampires,” I whispered.
Her eyebrows shot up. “O-Okay!”
I could tell she was keen to keep the conversation going.
“I really mean it,” I insisted, taking a step back from her. “I hate vampires, your kind. So, you should stop talking to me!” I added, scanning the dimly lit throne room. Where could I run to? I hardly knew my way around here, yet Elara kept getting closer. “Don’t follow me,” I warned.
“I just wanted to let you know that Lady Jen says I should introduce you to one of your first tasks, and that’s in the kitchen.”
My brows shot up. “The kitchen? What on earth would vampires need with a kitchen? You’re not exactly known for your culinary expertise, are you?” I couldn’t help but add a touch of snark.
Her smile faltered slightly. “There are many things you don’t know about us.”
“Well, I do know you all crave blood... and who knows, you might want to drink mine!” I said, refusing to trust them, not even her.
“Relax...” she said. Relax? There was nothing to relax about. Then she continued, “I don’t drink human blood, and besides, the Vimics supply us with blood, so no one is drinking anyone’s blood.”
I scoffed again. “What about luring them? I’m sure vampires love to lure Chimerans in to sign contracts with them and feed on their blood.”
“No!”
“Well, you do, and I’m not believing you or any—”
“I see where you’re going with that. I understand you hate my kind. Maybe some of us still lure your people in to take their blood, but I assure you, I don’t drink human blood,” she said firmly. “Besides, I haven’t had human blood for years, so I’m not interested in yours,” she added.
Her voice sounded sincere and honest, and I briefly considered whether I should trust her or not.
No.
“I still don’t trust you or your kind,” I insisted, refusing to give in.
“Very well then,” she accepted. “You don’t need to trust me, and I honestly don’t blame you for hating my kind either,” she said.
“Then we should stop talking,” I suggested.
“I’m still under Lady Jen’s orders,” she reminded me. “I should lead you to your first task in the kitchen,” she said.
“Okay,” I agreed, taking a step forward and accidentally colliding with a maid carrying a tray. Thankfully, nothing broke. Stupid darkness! It was so dark I could barely see anything, and I realized I had mistaken the kitchen for my home. How foolish of me. “Oh, the kitchen!” I exclaimed, feeling a bit embarrassed as I met Elara’s gaze. It seemed like she was about to laugh at me. “Lead the way!” I said.
Elara inclined her head, but to my surprise, she remained rooted to the spot. Confusion clouded my mind. Before I could voice my questions, the opulent surroundings dissolved into wisps of smoke. In their place, a bustling kitchen materialized, gleaming with an almost opulent air. Intrigued by this unexpected display of magic, I momentarily forgot my initial reservations.
“How did you do it...?” I asked, curious. It reminded me of something Draven had done once, although not quite the same. Was witchcraft practiced here or something? But then I remembered why I was even asking her this question—I hated vampires, including her and her kind. My mood shifted immediately. “Never mind,” I said dismissively.
But Elara, seemingly unfazed, offered a single, enigmatic word. “Magic.”
“Magic?” I echoed, skepticism coloring my tone. “Witchcraft, you mean? Are you some sort of sorceress or something?” My words were laced with disdain, a poor attempt to mask the prickle of curiosity that sparked within me.
“Half-witch,” she corrected gently.
“Half-vampire?” I blurted, the question tumbling out before I could restrain it.
“Indeed,” she confirmed.
“But how is that possible? I thought vampires were vampires and witches were, you know, witches, not mixed?” I questioned.
Elara offered a melancholic smile. “My mother, a witch, fell in love with a vampire – my father. And here I am, their unorthodox offspring.”
“So, you can perform magic?” I pressed, my curiosity battling with my prejudice.
“I dabble,” she admitted. “My mother fears the dangers of magic, especially when working for the Vimic family.”
“You work for Lord Draven?” The name sent a shiver down my spine.
She shook her head. “No. My allegiance lies with Aric Vimic, the Prince of Lust, not his brother.”
“What’s the difference with that?” I furrowed my brow, confusion clouding my mind.
“The Vimic family is divided into eight brothers, the Princes of Sin, but there’s one that isn’t a Prince; he’s like the god, the king, and that’s Lord Draven. The seven Princes of Sins are: Pride, Envy, Wrath, Greed, Sloth, Gluttony, and Lust. In this estate, each Prince of the Seven Sins has their own castle, and Lord Draven’s castle happens to be the heart of the Vimic. So, what I’m trying to say is that every Prince of Sin has their own servants, and I work under the Prince of Lust, not Lord Draven,” she explained. “And you happen to work for Lord Draven!” she added.
Now I get it, just a little bit.
“And what happens if I try to leave?” I questioned.
“I wouldn’t try to leave if I were you,” she said, her voice having a little edge of laughter.
I sighed. Where would I even run to if I ever left here?
“Well...” I glanced back at the environment I was in—the kitchen, with dirty dishes waiting to be washed. “So, I guess my task is to start washing dishes. This shouldn’t be that hard; it’s just dishes, and I’ve washed dishes before. Plus, there aren’t even as many dishes as I had anticipated, so I guess I should start getting back to work!” I added, my voice low as I began strolling towards the dish area to get started.
Then her voice stopped me, “What if I help you?”
“Why would you want to help me?” I questioned, thinking it was a joke.
“I don’t know, because you need help,” she replied.
“And who said I need help? I don’t need help, especially from you, a vampire... or a witch,” I said, returning to my defensive attitude.
Honestly, I never expected a vampire to care enough to offer help. I was too proud to ask for help, especially from my enemies.
“Very well then,” Elara said.
My mind returned to the piles of dishes, so I knew it was time for me to start cleaning. It shouldn’t be too bad... I shouldn’t start regretting now. Being his servant was better than being his wife, even though it felt foolish because now I would have to endure the torture of being his servant.
There was no turning back on my words. There never was.
With that, I sighed.
I just hoped it wouldn’t get worse from here.