Prepare Yourself
Step. Step. Step.
I kept my eyes focused on my feet beneath the oversized gray robes. The tapping of my sensible chambermaid’s shoes echoed a clanging melody in time with the chain secured around my throat. I was like a canine being taken for a walk. And my handler, none other than Commander Dommik Thorne.
He sported his full regalia. Black, custom-fitted leather armor from head to toe. Beneath our hooded robes, our two-person parade drew little attention amongst the debauchery we passed in the halls of the Northern Hive.
It was almost too easy. Moving past the small group of dwellers who erupted in a chorus of cheers and groans as a pair of dice revealed a winning—or losing—roll. Strolling by a female vampire complaining that the male fucking her against a stone wall wasn’t trying hard enough.
The activity in this Hive was constant, a perk to the sun-avoidant citizens living in an underground community versus their above-ground Southern Hive counterparts.
Dommik never looked back. Never checked on me. It would have given him away. We took a right down a corridor that was much less inhabited, walking with purpose and keeping to ourselves.
Step. Step. Step.
“Nearly there,” he threw a low whisper over his shoulder to me.
Another left followed by a quick right. Down a set of stairs and we were standing in front of Eryx’s office.
This was too easy, I thought.
Dommik made quick work of picking the lock and as he pushed the door open, I asked, “Is it strange that there isn’t a guard posted?”
He ushered me through into the dark space. “Most wouldn’t be stupid enough to break in. Mercy is a once-in-a-century practice under Eryx’s rule.”
“And you already used up that once in a century mercy?”
“Yeah.” Dommik froze and my blood ran cold at the thought of getting caught here.
If I thought the punishment delivered at the Southern Hive was horrific, I couldn’t imagine what kind of creative and nightmare-inducing sentences were carried out here.
Light bloomed from a nearby lantern. “We need to be quick.” Dommik pressed the cold metal handle of the clunky fixture into my palms.
“I could be quicker if you unchained me.”
He all but ignored the comment as he went to work. “You said the book from your vision was green?”
“No, black.”
His fingers floated over the stacked shelves of the dim office, reciting the colors of their spines, most of which were brown and red.
I turned my attention to the large, ornate desk littered with papers, some perfectly legible, others crumpled with drops of dried, dark brown blood droplets. I wondered which of Talia’s sisters' life force stained the orders and missives.
Carefully, I set the lantern down and scanned the tabletop.
“Black!” Dommik celebrated, before scoffing and quickly returning the book to its home on the shelf.
There were two drawers framing the space where Eryx would sit.
One by one, I slid them open, using a quill to poke through the items. I knew next to nothing about Eryx beyond his cruelty, but was surprised to find his office in such disarray.
Gorvin would never allow Rhazien to work in such conditions.
I smiled and chuckled to myself at the thought, catching Dommik’s attention. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s nice to see you smile.” He paused his search. “I hope to see more of that when this is over.”
“I smile,” I said under my breath.
“Only when you think people are watching you.” His fingers traced another row of books. “But when you’re alone…”
He stopped talking when he noticed me glaring at him from the desk.
I couldn’t dispute it and I wondered why he looked so confident while making such a claim. Had he really been watching me that closely?
“I smile,” I said again as if it were a fact as solid as the Irriset mountain range.
“My mistake.”
I clicked my tongue at him as I continued to survey the contents of the drawers. The last thing I wanted to do was touch too many things, leaving a scent in this forbidden space.
Quills, files, papers, boxes, bags of coin, odd trinkets, and books haphazardly filled the compartments. I turned my attention to their twins on the other side of the desk.
The smaller of the two opened without complaint and held more of the same contents. But the larger one caught, giving a thud when it refused to budge against a lock.
Dommik’s head snapped to me.
We listened, wondering if the loud bang had drawn any attention. But nothing. No rushing footsteps, no whispered orders.
My heart pounded underneath my gray robes. The black form of the commander appeared at my side and went to work on the lock.
I watched him intently. The speed of his fingers, the flicker of shadow that came and went as he clenched his jaw, the smirk revealing a mischievous dimple as the drawer slid open.
It was thrilling.
Unlike the others, this drawer was nearly empty. And inside, as if it was just waiting to be discovered, the black tome from my vision.
My breath hitched as I reached for it and thumbed through its pages. Dommik loomed over me. His presence unnerved me. I didn’t want to be rushed.
“Well?” he inquired with a heavy breath.
Quickly, but carefully, I flicked through the pages, searching for the image of the necklace. I pushed the pages wide and traced the contents with my finger. My eyes fixated on a name. My name.
Bergmont. I followed the family lineage up the page. This line was my family.
And it wasn’t just us.
The book was filled with page after page of family trees, magical heritage, all the way back to: The Source.
Dommik’s patience was running out. “Reyva—what is it?”
But we both froze before I could answer. The door handle to the office rattled. There was no time to write down any notes. We needed to take the book.
Dommik squared his stance, putting himself between me and the door, and silently drew a blade while I closed the tome and tucked it in the waistband of my chambermaid’s clothes.
The sound of keys fumbling on the other side of the door masked that of the wooden drawer I steadily pushed closed.
There, all is as it was. Except for me, of course. But I’d sort out my feelings about this mountain-sized familial secret later.
We couldn’t leave the way we came and we were nearly out of time. Luckily, Talia’s memories had shown me a way out. I strode to the wall with the lone bookcase and wedged my fingers between its wooden edges and the stone wall.
Dommik mouthed to me, ‘What are you doing?’
Busy pulling at the heavy furniture, all I could do was summon him with a nod that silently screamed, ‘Hurry up and help me!’
Sweat began to bead beneath my robes and the chain encasing my throat as I fruitlessly pulled. Dommik, on the other hand, exhibited no effort at all, pulling the bookcase away and revealing exactly what I knew would be there.
A perfectly carved opening in the stone. There was only darkness beyond the rounded edges of the opening, but the familiarity I pulled from the memory told me it was our way out.
I said a silent thank you to Talia for unknowingly saving our lives, then rushed into the dark.
Behind me, Dommik pulled on an iron handle on the back of the bookcase, sealing us into the cavernous hallway.
Once concealed, Dommik used his body to frame me.
The black of his armor camouflaged the grays of my borrowed robes.
My eyes darted, searching, unseeing. But he was there, and he was close. And getting closer.
I didn’t gasp when his hands found my shoulders. I didn’t recoil when he pulled me into him, beneath his cloak to shield me entirely should anyone find us. I pulled my arms to my chest while he wrapped his around me.
Within the coverage of the all-consuming darkness, he could have been anyone.
An enemy. An assailant. Rhazien himself.
But my body knew better. Dommik Thorne was holding me like I was a fragile piece of glass.
This was not the lust-filled, hungry Dommik I thought I knew.
This was something else. Tender. Careful.
After a minute of breathless waiting, the office door beyond our hiding place closed again, and we parted. The silence in the darkness elongated those first few seconds into what felt like minutes.
Dommik placed a hand on my chest, at first laying it completely flat above my breast before tapping his fingers, mimicking my quickened heartbeat. A silent instruction for me to breathe and calm my body.
I inhaled the musky moisture of the secluded tunnel. His fingers continued to keep time and slowed alongside my beats until they reached their normal state.
Dommik’s hands found my shoulders and gave them an encouraging squeeze. Then, they slowly moved down my arms until they met my covered wrists. He pulled slightly, signaling to follow him.
Descending into the dark of the tombs was the first moment I wished I was a vampire.
There may have been torches along the way, but we couldn’t risk lighting them and alerting any guards or court members that we’d been somewhere prohibited.
So I let Dommik—and his vampiric sight—lead me through the relentless dark.
In those silent steps, I realized Dommik led me often, and never astray. Led me away from the axe, to the Hive, through the Moon Garden, and now the Northern Hive. In a moment of disorientation, I could trust Dommik to be my eyes.
Like the thieves we were, we crept down the hall. Twenty paces. Fifty paces. One hundred and forty-seven paces later, we paused and the sound of wood scraping against the stone floor filled the silence of the cavern.
A blend of lazy, orange light and unfazed murmurs bled into the crack between the heavy barrier and the corridor.
Dommik’s profile, illuminated by the torches beyond our hiding place, belonged to a seasoned soldier. It was alert and filled with assessment. I could almost see the wheels turning in his mind.
“What is it?” I snipped, more frustrated at the pain radiating from where my face met his back than the fact that he’d stopped moving without notice. I tried to move around him, but he turned to block my view.