Chapter 7 Danni
Danni
The curtain lifts on its own accord, revealing a long corridor lit by the dull orange glow of antique lights along the walls.
Without hesitation, the others walk single-file into the tight space.
I glance back over my shoulder to get one last look at Knox, but to my disappointment, the ring is completely empty.
No vampires. No crowd. A twisted, gut-wrenching feeling starts to form in the pit of my stomach.
Where did they all go?
It’s all so fucked up.
I swallow down my fear like an extra-large pill as I take my first step into the corridor.
The musty brown wallpaper looks like it was designed in the 1920s.
I slide past several doors lining the hallway, taking my time to study every detail.
It all reminds me of an old hotel. I bet if I walk far enough, I’ll find an ice machine at the end of the hall.
As I walk past the doors, the names of the trainees magically appear, the letters scratching themselves into the dark wood.
I try to not freak out. A part of me wishes I was under the vampire’s spell. I bet it would make this whole process easier to comprehend.
In the space of a few hours, I’ve gone from being a small-town journalist, hell bent on finding my mother’s killer, to finding myself trapped inside a circus of nightmares. A circus powered by vampiric magic.
The goal I set myself all of those years ago suddenly seems like the least of my worries. I had no idea there were so many vampires. I thought maybe there were twenty or so, but from the sound of Knox’s speech, there’s an entire population of them hiding around here.
And speaking of, I’m not even going to try to figure out the situation with Knox right now. No idea what a “mate” is, but I want no part of it.
One step at a time, Danni. Just find your door, get in your room, and then spiral.
My heart races as I continue down the never-ending corridor, which becomes emptier by the second as people find their assigned rooms. Just as I think I’ll walk the corridor forever, the words “Danniella Martin” etch into the door closest to me. I twist the knob eagerly and push the door open.
The room is a stark contrast to the outdated corridor.
It’s small, but spacious enough for two people to stay here comfortably.
Parisian floor to ceiling windows sit opposite of the entrance, filling the room with natural light.
A queen-sized bed takes up the left side of the room, with a white wooden frame that twists into intricate swirls and patterns.
The silk sheets are pale blue, my favorite color.
To my right is a small door, which I guess leads to the bathroom, and the wall opposite the bed has a grand, French Provencal-style mirror and dressing table.
It isn’t a disappointing room at all, just not what I had expected.
I walk over to the windows to see if they will open, but of course they’re sealed shut.
The view outside is of the inbetween. The vast, unyielding desert I’d raced through is a stark reminder of where I will end up if I somehow manage to stage an escape.
I’m royally fucked.
The bag still strapped tightly across my chest feels heavier than ever despite its light contents.
I lift it slowly off me and dump it on the dressing table.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection and almost cringe.
I look as bad as I feel. My usually tanned skin is pale with deep purple crescents under my eyes.
My workwear has also seen better days. The white blouse I chose just this morning is covered in dried dirt and sand and ripped at the hem, which pisses me off.
I go through the motions of cleaning myself up, taking full advantage of the large, free-standing tub in the bathroom.
I don’t know what time we’re supposed to eat.
I haven’t noticed a single clock anywhere in the inbetween—or whatever the hell you call this place.
Once I finally manage to clean the sand out of my hair, I search through the wardrobe that had magically appeared when I left the bathroom.
It’s full of costumes. From tight, sparkly, nude-colored leotards that leave little to the imagination, to huge ball gowns complete with hoop skirts.
I clutch the towel around me tightly as I rifle through it all.
Do they really expect me to dress like one of those clowns?
The chamber door abruptly opens, startling me. I jump back from the wardrobe and lunge for my bag still perched on top of the dressing table. My eyes widen when one of those green scaly creatures that had tried to kill me steps into the room.
In my frantic attempt to find the stake in my bag, the towel drops unceremoniously to the floor, leaving me naked and vulnerable. Long, wet hair clings to my skin as I whip around and hold my weapon out in a threat. To my surprise, the creature throws up its hands to cover its eyes in shock.
“Don’t come any closer!” I yell, keeping the stake pointed directly at its face.
“I’m so sorry, miss! Master Knox said you would be dressed by now. I can come back!”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t the soft-spoken voice of a woman.
“You can talk?” The creatures I’d met in the desert had been less than hospitable, but this one seems to be more worried that I’m naked rather than me threatening it with a stake.
“Yes, miss, I’m not like the Rabbids. I’m something else.”
My grip on the stake tightens. “Why should I believe you?”
“Please, miss, I’m here to help you get ready for the welcoming dinner. Master Knox sent me.”
Oh. She’s in league with him.
Again, that internal battle with myself waged war inside of me. How is it possible for me to simply know that I can trust him and that he is basically my lifeline here? Nothing about this place makes sense.
And did she just call those creatures Rabbids?
“Okay, I’m going to… pick up my towel now. But one wrong move and you’re dead, do you understand?” I watch the creature nod her head feverishly, her hands still covering her eyes. I cover myself up quickly, never losing sight of her.
How am I supposed to know if Knox really did send her? This could all be an elaborate trick. In fact, it wouldn’t even surprise me if she lunges for my jugular the moment I lower the stake.
“You can take your hands away now. I’m decent.”
She hesitates for a moment. A small tremor in her hand as she uncovers her eyes tells me that maybe she’s not like the others.
Her face is just as twisted and scaly, but there is life and emotion behind her alarmingly red eyes.
She looks afraid of me and in that moment, I feel a tiny flicker of guilt.
“Miss, I am sorry I startled you. I was sent by Master Knox to help you get—”
“Dressed for the dinner, right?” I ask, my voice a tiny bit softer than before. She seems to relax; her shoulders fall a few notches and a small smile creeps across her face. It is an odd juxtaposition.
“Master says that you wouldn’t know where to start.
” I watch her tentatively edge closer to the wardrobe as if I might be startled by sudden movements.
She pulls out a silk robe in the same shade of powder blue as the silk bed sheets.
It bears no pattern. It doesn’t need it.
The only extra detail are sleeves frilled with a labyrinth of white lace.
“My name is Betty, by the way.”
She holds the robe open for me, hiding her face behind it. I glide into it, savoring the feeling of the soft fabric against my skin. The material is unbelievable, like everything else in this place.
“Now, shall we finish getting you ready?” Betty asks. “Master Knox isn’t very patient.”
I guess I have no choice but to trust the process.
“Knox seems to think the world and everybody’s schedule revolves around him…” My tone drips with sarcasm which, luckily, she finds funny.
Her laugh is raspy as if she smokes forty cigarettes a day. “He can be a bit spoiled. But that’s what happens when you’re the last remaining heir of one of The Five.” She guides me to the dressing table, pushing down on my shoulders firmly to make me sit.
“So, he’s, what? A prince? Shit, is that why my room is like Cinderella’s wet dream?” I scoff.
I watch Betty turn an odd shade of warm green. Is she blushing?
“The room is created to each individual’s specifications. The magic in this place never lies. It creates your deepest desires for you.”
Now it’s my turn to blush.
“Oh. I see,” I mutter sheepishly as she begins to brush my hair.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that the vampire slayer has a thing for princess bedrooms,” she taunts.
“I’m not a vampire slayer,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Of course you are, why else would you have brought stakes with you?” She nods towards the window and the endless desert outside. “We all saw how you killed a Rabbid out there. It’s not an easy feat. You must be well trained.”
I want to die of embarrassment. I have no training, just a revenge vendetta.