Chapter 23
Istep into an entirely new world.
Gone are the metal and concrete of the city. Gone are the symmetrical lines and grid-like patterns I was born into. All of that blandness and uniformity peels away as the Third Guardian prods me inside and new colors and textures spring to life right before my eyes.
The air is warm, like the oncoming winter can’t touch here.
A lush, scarlet rug spreads out before me, so soft and rich compared to the drab gray carpet I’m used to that I blink, realizing that I’ve never even thought carpet could be any other color besides gray.
But this… it’s soft underfoot as I force myself to take rigid steps forward, and so thick I feel like I could sink into it.
On either side of me, ivory pillars rise up to form an elaborate archway engraved with way too many designs to count.
Something glittery and bright hangs from the ceiling, a sort of light fixture that swoops and swirls and makes me dizzy with the sparkles it shoots into my vision.
I’ve only ever seen the glare of bright fluorescent lights or the stuttering of flames, not this fancy lighting that spreads a glittering glow over the room.
Or maybe hallway is more accurate, because this room is long and there seems to be no end in sight as the Third Guardian pushes me onward.
Where are we going? A private room where he’ll take my blood and then leave me to my own devices?
For as many times as I’ve dreamed about being Chosen, I’ve never given any thought to what would actually happen once I walked through those front doors.
Will it be quick, or will the process take a long time? Will I feel myself fade right away?
I steal a glance behind us to check if any other Guardians are following with their own Chosen Ones, but as far as I can see, we’re alone.
“Don’t worry, Saskia.” The Third Guardian’s voice slides out like a snake next to my ear. “We’ll be to the dining room in no time.”
I jolt at the realization that the Guardian knows my name.
They know everything about us, I told Odette months ago. But for some reason, I didn’t think it was possible for them to actually keep track of every one of their citizens. Are vampire memories exceptionally superior, or—
No, Lucan says, his voice rumbling up my body from where that necklace is wrapped around my thigh. This was premeditated. The son of a bitch must have planned to choose you long before tonight.
If tones could kill, the Third Guardian would be a splinter of bones at my feet already.
But unfortunately, that’s not how murder works, and I’m not even sure the Third Guardian’s bones are breakable. His hand against my back, forcing me forward, feels more like stone than skin. And suddenly, tears prick my eyes for the first time since I was Chosen.
My mother walked this same hallway. She took these same steps. And now, I am heading toward her same doom.
Except she didn’t possess this necklace.
Does he know? I wonder helplessly, not daring to steal a glance at the Guardian over my shoulder, although I feel his presence like a magnet—not a force pulling me toward him, but something that repels every atom in my body. Does he know we’re…
No, Lucan assures me. He would rip the necklace off you right now if he knew you had it.
At that, my step is a fraction lighter. Lucan can stay. I can keep him through whatever I’m about to endure.
I’m yours, he affirms, though something in his voice cracks. Tell me what you need from me, Saskia. Tell me how I can help.
I wish I could answer him, but there’s nothing he can really do from the other side of the Wall anyway. Which means it’s up to me to get through this. I’m the damsel in distress, but I can save myself—the male between my thighs is just an added benefit.
Keep on being the same asshole you’ve always been and I’ll do just fine, I reply with my chin tilted a fraction higher.
Because the catacombs wouldn’t have been possible without his snarky voice in my mind, goading and guiding me forward.
He’s not the light in the dark, exactly, but the shadows at my feet, the thing that reminds me how brave I really am in the dark.
And if I can deal with a Monster in my head, I can deal with this.
The hallway finally splits wide open into a sort of antechamber, two massive spiral staircases swooping up and around to a second floor, a polished wooden doorway between them.
Looking up, I find a domed ceiling high above my head, the same dome I’ve looked at from afar for twenty-three years.
Except it looks even more enormous on the inside.
Split into twelve sections, each depicts a painting of one of the Twelve Guardians, and the intricate gold swirls catch the light from the windows in all directions. The Third Guardian’s portrait is the most intense, peering down at me like an all-seeing god.
Next to me in actual form, he pushes me toward that doorway, and my resolve tightens into curling fists.
“I can walk in myself, thank you,” I tell him politely—though there’s a bit of bite to my voice as I flash a stiff smile over my shoulder.
The Third Guardian’s smile tightens, too, but he removes his hand from my back and gestures. “Of course. After you, then. We wouldn’t want to be late, would we?”
His red eyes hook into me as I breeze past him and stifle my smile. Let him be mad. It actually brings me a little joy.
Good girl, Lucan says. Keep defying the bastard.
My nerves light up with his appreciation—quickly smothered by a flare of shock as I step into this new room and my senses are assaulted yet again.
A table spreads from one end of the room to the other, longer and grander than any table I’ve ever seen.
Just like carpet, I’ve never given much thought to the possibility that tables could be anything other than thin metal squares on four spindly legs.
But this one stands on clawed legs made of dark mahogany with a beautiful lace cloth of some sort draped over it.
Yet hardly any part of its surface is even visible under the weight of all the food.
Silver platters of steaming chicken and ham and steak.
Ornate bowls of rice and pudding and soup.
Little glass plates overflowing with grapes and other colorful fruit I’ve never seen before.
Goblets filled with a burgundy liquid that looks too strong to be tea.
And so many other types of food or drink I wouldn’t be able to name even if I tried.
The smells wafting up make my mouth water against my will.
The sheer enormity of it makes me dizzy in comparison to the perfect little proportions everyone else gets back in the city.
Who would ever need this much abundance?
What purpose does it serve? And why is it laid out before us right now, when we’re supposed to be giving our blood to the Guardians?
Do they need to eat regular food before they sip from us?
I blink for several seconds before I realize there are already several others in the room.
Three other Guardians are sliding chairs out from under the table… but rather than sit in them, they gesture for their Chosen Ones to sit instead.
Two of the humans—a man with a green badge and a man with a purple one —glance nervously around before taking a seat. The third one, on the other hand, a woman with a scarlet badge like me, keeps her chin high and her posture stiff, refusing to flinch as she settles into the cushioned chair.
I find myself staring at this Chosen One for what feels like an eternity as I take in her expression, how it reflects the one I feel stamped on mine. She looks at me, too, and we share an emotion that has always been forbidden in the city of Xantera.
Defiance.
“I thought you said you could walk yourself?” the Third Guardian croons from behind me. I almost flinch, but stop myself just in time.
That’s it, little nightmare, Lucan says with pride. Don’t give him what he wants.
Bolstered by his words, I turn my head an inch to pin a glare straight into the Third Guardian’s face. Because yes, I can walk myself. But I can also run.
If I can just get to that key in the white drawing room before he catches me, I can…
At that moment, the other Chosen woman suddenly pushes back her chair in a flurry.
The legs screech against the floor and she takes off, her cloak flapping behind her, her arms pumping, her breaths sawing the air as she tries to make a break for it.
Faster than I can even blink, her Guardian streaks after her, his body nothing more than a blur.
A vicious CRACK vibrates through my very bones the next second, and when the blur of motion stops, the woman lies limp in her Guardian’s arms.
The adrenaline in my stomach flares and flatlines. I know what I’d put in the system at the Healing Center immediately: patient deceased.
Her eyes pop out of her skull, glassy and unseeing. Her head hangs from her neck by a thin scrap of skin, collarbone poking out of the side. The only movement in the entire room is her blood, squirting in several separate jets from the wound in her neck and splattering the floor.
“All this wasted food,” her Guardian breaks the silence with spitting venom in his words, his crimson eyes following the jets with equal parts disappointment and repulsion. “She could have regenerated the blood after this first time, but no, she had to be a runner.”
One of the other Guardians down the table gives out a little chuckle that scrapes away the breath in my lungs. “Better get to work then, Rufus.”
In evil’s case, “get to work” must mean mutilate a corpse even further. Without even dragging his victim out of the room to give her privacy in death, Rufus lowers his head and tears into her right then and there, ripping and squelching and sucking and oh, I’m going to be so fucking sick.
In my head, Lucan has gone carefully still and heavy, like an anchor to my soul.