Princess of Nothing — Chapter 5
A fantasy tale of magic, struggle, and survival- Draft 1
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CHAPTER 5
My time through the portal is both a nanosecond and an eternity. I have the distinct impression that everything I am has been unspooled — then reassembled.
Relief washes over me when my shoes connect with the pavement. The space is close to pitch-black, but immediately my vampire genetics take over and all becomes clear. I am in some sort of tunnel. Scents of earth, rock, and loam compete for dominance. I can even smell the minerals encapsulated within the beads of condensation forming on the shale that makes up the walls.
In the distance, far from where I stand, I see a circle of twilight: Outside.
A jolt of excitement zips through my system, my heart speeds up, my fingertips prickling.
Outside, where there are no walls, no bars of lead, no half-congealed cups of blood, no rattling chains and pinching shackles. Stars surely dot the darkening sky. I don’t have a specific memory of the night sky, but I know I’ve seen the stars — That I love them.
If I leave now maybe I could find help — my eyes flit to the gaping portal, still hovering silently in the air. It’s like a negative space, absorbing all light. Something my eyes cannot grow accustomed to.
Rec has yet to come through it. Perhaps something has delayed him on the other end. Or maybe something went wrong — now might be my only chance.
I launch into motion, sprinting towards the small circle of sky as adrenaline surges in my chest. I can make it — I can! I am fast. My high heels clip loudly. I run as quickly as I am able —
It’s a mistake.
Searing pain, the likes of which I’ve never known — not even from the Wabara’s acid — travels up my arms. Lightning bolts of violet spider web over my extremities, sinking deeper. The Djinn-magic cuts like a thousand tiny knives, twisting inside my veins with an excruciating slowness.
My muscles forget how to function. I can no longer see the tunnel clearly with blinding flashes of violet light strobing behind my eyes. The cutting sensation makes it to my skull.
A soft thud sounds behind me. Near silent footsteps draw near.
Rec chuckles. “At least now you have the answer to your question, and faster than I expected.” I hiss through my teeth because the spell seized my jaw. Rec steps into view. A slight smile curves his cruel mouth and genuine pleasure reflects in his gaze. His serpentine eyes flicker to his wristwatch. “You have another minute before you’ll be able to move. Good thing I don’t mind being fashionably late.”
My body remains immobilized for sixty more agonizing seconds as Rec clasps his hands behind his back. He watches me like someone who is taking in a captivating performance. “I’ve never tested these. I must say, I’m very pleased with the Djinn’s handiwork.”
When the minute is up, I nearly collapse. My limbs feel gelatinous as I bend forward, bracing my hands on my knees to collect myself, and suddenly heave, completely emptying the contents of my stomach — what little there was. I feel as though I’ve been turned inside out. It’s a miracle I don’t get any blood on my gown.
“Unless you enjoyed that sensation, I suggest you listen carefully. Stray too far from my side again, and…” Rec’s dark brows raise as he motions to the puddle of blood I just vomited. “That happens. Those bracelets tether you to me. I can increase or shorten your leash with barely a thought, so keep close and do exactly as I say.” Rec pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. He grips my chin with his icy fingers and wipes my mouth with too much force. His attention lingers on my swollen lips. When he’s done, he tosses the handkerchief into the puddle of blood on the ground. My mouth heals quickly but whatever these cuffs did to me is different. I’m slower to recover from it.
The energy boost the Maester gave me is gone. Maybe I needed it to withstand a taste of the Djinn magic and still function. I’m hunched over, trying to catch my breath when Rec offers me his arm. “Time to move, Faeling. You can recover on the way.”
Touching Rec in any capacity is the last thing I want to do. I take his arm only because I must. I have no choice and need support to keep upright.
Beneath his suit, he’s shockingly solid, and it feels more like I am holding onto concrete covered in skin than someone made of flesh and bone. Rec guides me deeper into the darkness. Away from the circle of twilight. Away from my only chance at freedom.
The tunnel has many doors. Most of them are made from wood, blending in with the stone and dirt, but toward the back of the tunnel, we near a door that is painted the same shade or scarlet as Rec’s magic-imbued tattoo, which is still visible over his suit jacket. The closer we get to it, the more anxious I feel. Where is he taking me? Why are we here? I wonder if he notices me tensing at his side.
Rec makes a series of knocks on the door, the pattern complex. The sounds of gears turning follow. The clink of a mechanism unhinging.
I am not prepared for what I see next.
The temperature dips. Goosebumps sweep over exposed skin and my breath becomes visible. A wraith stands — or rather floats — before us. It’s nearly seven feet tall and wears a tattered hooded cloak. The oversized hood turns toward Rec. He raises his arm and shows his tattoo to the wraith. Its face cannot be seen within the shadow of its hood. A shiver travels down my spine as I can’t help but wonder what the wraith’s face looks like. Does it have eyes, or dry, empty sockets where eyes should be?
Satisfied with Rec’s armband, it gestures for us to follow with a hand made of nothing more than living smoke and aged yellowy-brown bone. It glides down the hallway. Its movements — eerily smooth.
We enter a large, circular room. Rec guides me to my seat with his palm firmly pressed against my lower back. I can’t help but focus on the sensation of it — The pressure of his fingers — It feels like a threat, like ownership.
The space is reminiscent of an opera house. The seats are segmented off like private balconies — only we are not up high and there is no one on stage singing.
Now that we have arrived, every seat is full. The room grows quiet as if they all have been waiting for us.
In the center of the room, there is a podium. An elderly, bearded man dressed in a suit walks briskly toward it. He’s short in stature with ruddy cheeks. His ears are gently pointed, but not in the same way that mine are. Behind the podium are several built-in steps. He ascends them. I believe he is a gnome.
When he speaks, his words come out in a flurry as he gestures to an item that is set on a table before him. Some kind of urn. He speaks so quickly I cannot make out much of what he says, but when hands, talons, wings and tentacles are raised around the room, I quickly realize: This is an auction.
My skin turns clammy.
Was I next? Is this why Rec had the Maesters wash and dress me this way? Why he had my ears put on display — so I would fetch a higher price when he sold me!?
Suddenly, Rec’s eyes slide my way. In my peripherals, his forked tongue flicks out, scenting me. I can’t hide my fear from him, but I force myself to stare straight ahead and endure the weight of his gaze. His attention is something I can feel. It drains the color from my lips and cramps my stomach. Eventually, he looks back to the man on the podium, but murmurs in a voice so low only I can hear, “No one can afford you, Faeling.”
The invisible band around my chest — the one that constricts my breathing — loosens. It’s not that I want to remain a prisoner and endure Rec’s cruelty. It’s that I’ve been around long enough to know there are many evils in Midhaven — things even worse than him. Rec is the demon I know.
It’s time to auction off the next item.
My eyes widen when a human female gets dragged onto the platform. She’s young — early twenties maybe — swaying where she stands, eyes heavy, as if under some kind of influence. On her wrists are chains, not unlike the ones I’m used to wearing. I rub my ankles together, sensing the absence of my manacle.
The bids for her start immediately. The price for her skyrockets as five supes compete. I have always felt sorry for the humans. They deserve so much more. This planet was once theirs to rule and govern and look at what has become of them. So many awful creatures see them as lesser. As prey.
A ghoul with oversized, matte-black eyes wins the bid.
I flinch when Rec wipes away a tear from my cheek. A smile blooms across his lips as he leans to whisper, “Such a tender heart you have, Faeling.” He brings his finger to his mouth. His serpent’s tongue flicks out as he tastes my tears. I’m glad I’ve already emptied the contents of my stomach.
“That ghoul will eat her alive!” I hiss. “Slowly.”
Rec’s chuckle is low and dark. “Oh, believe me, I know. How much do you want to wager he’ll wait for her mind to clear first?” His tone is casual… Amused. “I hear they like it when they scream.”
“Seems you two have that in common,” I say.
“Yes.” Rec flashes me a predatory smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, daring me to challenge him further. I feel the bracelets around my wrists tingle in warning, as he shortens the leash. I clamp my mouth shut as he asks with mock innocence, “Wasn’t it only this morning I gave you fresh human blood for breakfast?” He leans closer still, whispering in my ear like a lover, “Type-O, if I’m not mistaken?” My stomach churns at the reminder. “Would you like to know her name?” he purrs. “Would you like to know how I bled her for you?”
Before I can make the mistake of retorting, a new item is brought onto the platform, and Rec’s attention is diverted. The way he sits forward in his seat with his back held straight has me following his gaze to see what it is.
The gnome opens up the dark wooden box to reveal a black crown. It’s hard to see more than that from where we are seated. “Crown of fae origin,” I catch the man saying, and then the bidding begins.
Rec is the first to lift his hand, raising two fingers. “Two million dollari,” the man says.
Across the room, a hooded figure with a slight build raises four fingers. “Four million dollari,” the man says. “Do I hear five?” Rec is quick to offer five, and on and on it goes.
Rec does not stop bidding until he’s won — a whopping eighty million dollari later. Being despicable is extremely lucrative. An attendant walks over to him with the device for payment, and Rec passes his palm over the scanner with a bland look on his face. When the transaction’s complete, they hand him the box. I glance across the room, only to find the rival bidder is already gone.
When I turn my attention back to Rec, he is opening the box containing the dark crown. Up close, I see the intricacy of the craftsmanship. The interlocking whirls and gentle loops that make up the crown. The tiny inscriptions etched into the back look familiar, but I can’t read the language. Rec eyes me. “Here, hold this, will you?” I’m shocked when he passes me the crown with an air of nonchalance.
The moment my skin touches it, I am greeted by the weight of its power. I inhale sharply, my gasp is so loud it momentarily interrupts the auction as some turn to face me. After a few seconds, the gnome continues.
I can feel it — it is something both wondrous and powerful. The ability to create and destroy, cradled between the palms of my hands.
Rec snatches it back, returning it to its velvet-lined box. That thing must have an enchantment on it. He looks at me. “Tell me exactly what you felt.”
But I don’t. Instead, I tell him the barest details. Whatever the crown is — it’s too powerful for Rec to have.
He smiles. “I needed to be sure it wasn’t a fake. It’s said the fae are especially…sensitive to its power.”
So that’s why Rec needed me here. To help him verify yet another rare artifact to add to his enormous illegal collection. But It’s wrong for him to have it. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I feel compelled to right that wrong. Maybe the artifact isn’t going to be part of his collection. Maybe he’s arranged a deal with someone else. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. No matter how much I may wish to do something, what could I do? I am powerless.
Once the auction is finished, the room empties into a large hall. People cluster together in small groups to socialize, holding crystal flutes in their hands. Rec forces me to take his arm once more as we enter.
My eyes widen and my mouth waters at the scent of glazed meats and roasted vegetables. Tables and tables laden with food sit there for the taking and barely anyone gathers around them. There’s more food than there are guests. What will be done with the remainder?
My stomach groans loudly. The hunger pangs are stronger than usual as Rec plucks a flute of red liquid from the loaded tray of a passing server. He swigs it back quickly and sets it down with a look of glorious boredom on his face as he observes the crowd.
Every male I pass pauses what they are saying to leer at me — their attention snagging on my ears — but nearly as many eyes linger on Rec, catching me off guard. It is easy for me to forget he is handsome when inside he is so ugly. “I think it’s time we take our leave, Faeling,” Rec says, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
On the one hand, I can’t wait to be away from him, but on the other…I am not in a cell. I am not chained. I am clean. There is laughter and conversation around me, and even if most of the people here are unsavory, part of me almost remembers what it’s like —
“Recruiter, may I have a word?” We both turn as a tall man with a mass of unruly copper hair approaches. I can tell by his scent that he is some kind of shapeshifter, but it’s hard to pin down. Lion, perhaps.
Rec slips on an amiable smile. One I know to be fake, and says, “Of course Solomon.”
Solomon's eyes, dart to me. “Alone, I mean.”
I feel Rec’s arm tense beneath my hand, but then he nods. “In a moment. First, I need a word with my…” He looks at me. “Partner.” I am shocked at his choice of words but try not to show it.
Solomon nods and steps away, going to help himself to another drink. Rec leans close and whispers, “You’ve served me well tonight, Faeling, so I’ll give you a little treat.” He gestures to the food. “Eat up. I’m extending your leash a bit. Don’t make me regret it.”
I almost can’t believe it when he walks away from me. Rec stands in the far corner of the room. He is speaking with the shapeshifter but faces my direction, and I know even if he looks interested in what the shifter has to say, that he’s still watching. There’s no way he’ll let me get far enough to escape.
Unsure of how long the conversation will last, I waste no time filling my plate. I start with the meat. I piled barbecued ribs, grilled chicken, and glazed meatballs high on one side. Then roasted potatoes, seasoned root vegetables, and stuffing on the other. Then cheeses, and a roll of bread to top it off. After finding a somewhat secluded corner, I immediately begin stuffing my face. A guttural moan — that several supernatural ears hear by the looks of it — escapes me as the smoky sweet flavor of untainted meat and vegetables hits my tongue.
I chew as quickly as I can. This may be the only time I get this opportunity, and I feel a wisp of panic at the fact that I am already becoming full when I have yet to consume three-quarters of my plate. I eat more of it anyway, ignoring the ache in my belly telling me to stop.
I’m about halfway finished when someone touches my shoulder. I swallow my mouthful of food, and look down at the elegant, male hand, noting the silver insignia ring on his pinkie finger. His touch is soft and hesitant. Nothing like Rec’s. “Nyxalia, is that you?” An accented voice says.
I turn around, tilting my chin to meet the soft, hazel eyes of a vampire. He smells faintly of teakwood and cloves, an oddly comforting scent. When he sees my face, his eyes widen in shock as he places both his hands on my shoulders and whispers, “Gods, it is you! How can this be!? Your father told everyone you were dead!”
My fingers clutch the fork I’m still holding, and my knuckles turn white. “I…” My eyes flicker across his face. “You know who I am?” I say at last. My voice is so soft I can barely hear it. I continue to examine him. The noble features, sandy hair, and deep-set eyes. Is he familiar? Do I know him?
“Yes!” he says, “of course I do!” He nearly laughs but grows serious when he registers the level of confusion on my face.
“You are mistaken, vampire.” Rec’s bitter voice sounds from behind him. The male spins around, and I notice they are nearly the same height.
The vampire’s eyes flicker to Rec’s tattoo, his gaze narrowing in recognition. “Recruiter…” he says slowly, wheels turning. “Do you have any idea — ”
“Do you?” Rec hisses, taking a fistful of the vampire’s collar. They stare at one another for a moment longer, before Rec lets go, shoving him back. “She belongs to me. I suggest you drop it.”
The vampire’s eyes flash as he rights himself, straightening his suit and looking to me for answers I cannot give. “Is that true?” he asks me.
Rec looks at me, and I know from the way his pupils constrict to barely visible slits — the way his lips curl and his viper’s fangs peek out from his gumline, that this vampire is in danger. “Yes,” I say, trying to force the warble out of my voice. “I’m sorry, but I am not whoever you think I am. I have never seen you before in my life.”
A crease forms between his eyes, and he looks at me for what I know is too long. I don’t believe you, his eyes say. But finally, he nods, “Then I sincerely apologize for disturbing your evening, My Lady. The mistake is mine.”
My Lady.
As I watch him stiffly walk away, I am astounded that no one else in the room has registered the scuffle. Or if they have, none of them seem to care. I can’t stop the racing of my heart as Rec suddenly yanks the bent fork out of my hands. It clatters to the table when he sets it down before taking my upper arm in a bruising grip.
We leave as well. Rec takes the lead, pulling me close behind him. We go out the same doors the vampire exited mere moments ago.
The doors open into an alley, and automatically, my eyes snap to the open sky above. There aren’t any stars to be seen. Light pollution and haze cast a strange orangey glow over everything. Sirens echo in the background. Vehicles and supes wings whiz by in the distance. We are in a city, but which city? Rec adjusts his emerald ring and the portal reopens. Without another word, he shoves me through.
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