I reach the final landing and, just a few steps to the right, my bedroom door. As I unlock it, I can’t stop myself from glancing down, through the railings, to the trail of blood now staining the tiles below. A shadow passes over my heart. However much I hate Henry for his casual disregard of human life, even I haven’t completely tamed the monster inside. Instead, I keep it in a cage, where there’s always danger of opening the door. It’s a constant struggle to keep that creature from taking control. From consuming the rest of me.
With this dismal thought, I hear the lock turn, and I hurry to open the door.
The moment I step over the threshold, I make sure to secure the lock again—sisters are the noisiest creatures left alive on this earth. I put my purse and keys on the table, along with the box Alexei made for me. Then, going to my dresser, I open a drawer, pull off my clothes, and put on a pair of white silk pajamas. Normally, I prefer the ratty T-shirt I stole from my sister, Valerie, but on the morning surrounding a vampire’s shift to maturity, they never wake alone. Everyone wants to see the moment their brand-new eyes open. It’s become tradition for Fledglings to put extra effort into their appearance during the Awakening.
Noting the clock on the wall—coming back earlier gave me some extra time, at least—I pad across the plush carpet and retrieve a bottle of lotion from my nightstand. It was delivered just two nights ago, from our trading parter to the west, across the North Pacific Ocean. Squirting some into my hands, I go to the vanity and perch on the velvet-covered stool before it.
As I rub the lotion into my skin, I study the eyes looking back in the mirror. Brown. Simple. Unassuming. My Unawakened siblings and cousins seem eager to lose their birth colors, but I’m going to miss mine. They fit me. I push my hair away from my face. It falls right back into my eyes a moment later, of course—it’s an impossible mess of chestnut-colored curls that no heat styling or product can tame.
I’m still about to attempt it when the door opens and Gabriela slips inside. The key I gave her shines from a chain around her neck.
“You’re abusing your emergency key privileges,” I point out, picking up a wand of mascara to darken my lashes. I grin when she rolls her eyes at me. If my father were to ever catch her doing that, her head would end up on the chopping block… or worse. Even still, it gives me a warm thrill every time she does it.
The brown-skinned human approaches the vanity, its soft glow making her appear younger. But even they can’t do away with the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes—Gabriela is in her early fifties. Sometimes it still startles me when I see the streak of gray in her hair. She was assigned my Caretaker at birth. Usually, once a vampire is ten years old, the Caretaker is removed to avoid any attachments from forming. Gabriela, however, is well-liked amongst the females in my family. They pulled the strings necessary that allowed her to stay.
Wearing a strange expression, Gabriela slides a piece of folded parchment onto the vanity. Her sleeve rides up slightly, just as Alexei’s did, and I catch a glimpse of that dark band etched coldly into her smooth skin. It’s considered rude to ask a slave how they lost their freedom, and Gabriela has never willingly spoke of it, but I always wonder when her mark peers out at me. “From your father,” the human murmurs, unaware of my scrutiny.
“What is it?” I ask, shaking myself. I glance at the paper curiously, resting innocuously on the glass surface of the vanity.
“I didn’t read it, mija. How would I know? Take a look once you’re ready for bed.” Gabriela gently pushes my hands out of the way, and takes over. As she tests the heat of the curling iron, her lavender gaze meets mine in the mirror.
Every mortal has the same shade—well, every human and the Lavenders, who are shunned creatures with the misfortune of being both vampire and human—but I like to think hers are just a bit more vibrant. Richer.
“Are you nervous?” she asks in the common tongue, swirling a piece of my hair around the wand. Though Gabriela taught me Spanish as a child, the lessons stopped when Father heard me speaking it once. I imagine, had it been any one of the other Fledglings, he would have barred their access to the feeders for days, but in my case, it was only a firm scolding and getting sent to my rooms for the night.
Before I can answer, the door opens again. This time, my mother comes through, and my mouth goes dry.
Outlined by light from the hallway, I notice for the thousandth time how her frame appears more breakable than willowy. But the rest of her—the papery skin and crow-black hair, along with her tendency to only wear black clothing—is every inch the cliché of a female vampire. There’s also a silver chain around her neck, at the end of which dangles a small bottle full of blood. I once explained it to a human child as the vampiric equivalent of a wedding ring. While the Vampire King may have several wives, she must be utterly faithful to him. The blood, which is the king’s and hers mixed together, may as well be a binding contract.
However unfair my mother’s circumstances, the sight of her still makes me want to hide.
“Thank you, Gabriela,” Mother says in a level tone. An obvious dismissal.
The woman I wish was my mother sets the curling iron down and moves away, bowing gracefully. She leaves the room without another look in my direction. I hear her voice in my head, a memory from childhood. Careful, little one, careful. We can’t let them know we love each other, okay?
Once Gabriela is gone, I focus on my mother again. She doesn’t meet my gaze, though—she rarely does. It’s as if the very sight of me makes her sick. She’s birthed other children, of course. Four others, and she has no such difficulties with them. Over the years, the sting of this has faded to a dull throb, brought back in earnest only when I happen to witness a tender moment between one of my aunts and their offspring.
“Is everything all right?” I ask as I powder my nose to remove any excess shine.
She clears her throat and looks at me. Right at me. The brightness of her amber eyes is startling. “How do you feel?”
If it were Gabriela asking, I would have an entirely different answer. How do I feel? Scared. Sad. Nervous.
I have so many questions I’m not allowed to ask. Why does the color of my eyes determine the rest of my life? Why did Father insist on constructing our society this way?
But… I despise confrontation. It will only reaffirm truths I’m already painfully aware of. Most days, I’m content with our mutual denial. “I’m fine so far,” I reply, matching Mother’s polite tone. “My gums are still tender, but I know that’s normal.”
She nods, fussing with a piece of lint on her skirt that isn’t there. “The adult canines won’t finish coming in until a few days after the Awakening. That’s when your venom will be at its strongest as well, so you’ll need to be mindful when feeding to ensure you don’t overdose your feeder. ”
Tender gums are how an adolescent vampire knows what’s about to happen, but canines are just the start of it. Mature vampires are stronger, move faster, see farther, and hear better. Every sense is heightened. Granted, they need to feed more, but with the human population flourishing under Father’s rule, it’s not as if there’s a shortage of blood.
Once a vampire reaches maturity, which always happens in the days surrounding our twenty-third birthdays, our eyes change color.