Chronicles of the Uprising (Trilogy 1): Trilogy 1 (3 page)

“You buy her for me now!” the little girl continued to scream, holding tightly to the cell bars.

“All right, dearest,” her father cooed in her ear. “If she means that much to you.” He called over to a handler, “I’ll take that girl and the big one here.”

“Very good, sir.”

“There you are, Olive. Your very own gladiator. What shall you call her?”

“You’re silly, Daddy. Gladiators don’t get names.”

“They do if you want them to. You think about it while we go get some treats for the ride home.”

The little girl giggled as she took her dad’s hand and walked out of the room.

A handler tapped her cell with his light. “Lucky you… you have yourself an owner. Let’s go.”

He directed her down into the lower levels to a small cell marked with her slave number 8254-A.

In the cell next to her, another vampire stirred, a tall man with unusually caramel-colored skin and a bald head. He stood and looked in on her.  “Welcome to the Iron Gate prison. Your new home for the rest of your immortal life. Now that you’ve gotten yourself in, there’s only one way out…”

Mira looked up and met the icy eyes of her cellmate. “We’ll see about that.”

Chronicles of the Uprising: Book 1

Katie Salidas

April 17
^th
, 2210 – New Haven City.
Westernmost
Province of the Iron Gate, Pacific Coast

The roar of the crowd, all twenty-five-thousand people in attendance, rose to a thundering crescendo when Mira delivered a bone-crunching blow to her opponent’s ribs. Standing only five feet tall, she might not have appeared a formidable warrior, but the thin, spiky-haired waif of a vampire could hold her weight and more when put to the test. Amplified by the superb acoustics, the sound of bones cracking echoed through the Superdome arena. The defeated, a red-headed male vampire staggered, punch-drunk, and then dropped to his knees. Dirt and sweat coated his face but could not mask the fear in his icy blue eyes. His was a look Mira had seen so many times before. Her opponent’s immortal life had finally come to an end, and he was ready to take the final deadly blow.

Above her, Mira knew the fifty-foot mega screen showed her hapless victim in brilliant resolution, ensuring that all who were attending, and those watching from the comfort of their homes, could see these last gruesome moments in crystal clear high-definition.

Mira gazed down at her opponent’s blood-soaked face. Though he was her enemy for the moment, she did not relish having to end him. No one should be forced into the arena and told to kill or be killed. It wasn’t right. But it was what was demanded of her, and given the choice between her life and someone else’s… well, there really was no choice. No matter the cost, Mira was a survivor.

She glanced up to the large private box overlooking the arena. A well-dressed man in deep-purple robes sat, enjoying what appeared to be a dinner of filet mignon and roast potatoes. Even here, in the dusty arena below, Mira’s enhanced senses picked up the tantalizing scent of very rare, bloody steak. She could hardly believe that a human could not only watch the murder about to take place, but also sit and eat the dead flesh of a once-living being while doing it. From the smell of it, the poor beast was practically still bleeding on his plate. Who was truly the more savage creature?

Over the crowd’s roar, an announcer introduced the well-dressed man, Lucian Stavros, Regent of the Iron Gate. Lucian gently and purposefully slowly set down his knife and fork. He took another moment to wipe his face clean and then smiled, acknowledging the roaring crowd.

Chants of “Death, death, death” rang out from the throng as a single unified demand.

The Regent listened for a moment, making a show of putting his hands to his ears to hear screaming hoard’s request, and then held a hand out, with his thumb pointed to the side.

As if the next moment were the most important, the anticipating mass hushed. Eerie silence filled the arena as everyone watched for the Regent to make his decision.

From her vantage point below, Mira saw the steely look of determination cross the Regent’s face. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought he took this decision seriously; but then, he was human, and they never cared much if her kind lived or died. Lucian Stavros took a cursory glance down at Mira. Their eyes met. It was only a brief moment, but in that short time, Mira saw him waver.

Could it be true, she wondered, or was it just a trick of the light? No human actually cared about the lives of vampires. The moment faded, and the fleeting thought left.

Mira saw the Regent’s decision. He turned his thumb down. Death! 

The crowd went wild.

The last hope for her defeated opponent had vanished; Mira had to finish him. “Sorry,” she whispered to the half-dead vampire on his knees before her. Though her fangs tingled at the prospect of tasting his final dying moments — her reward, if you could call it that, for living through another battle —  she did not enjoy what she was about to do. Like her, he was a slave, forced into servitude to the humans as they saw fit. He had not asked for this, and neither had she. But, despite what either of them wanted, it was the will of the crowd, the humans, that had to be served.

Aiming to sever the carotid artery with her fangs, Mira dove at her opponent’s neck. His death would be quick. At least she could afford him that luxury.

Hot, sweet, and energizing, his blood flowed freely down her parched throat. She’d been starved for so long. Denied the one thing she needed. And now, free to drink her fill, it was all she could do not to let the beast within her take over. Blood was everything: food, drink, life-giving essence, and pure ecstasy. Even the smallest amount could provide healing nourishment and pleasure all at once. But Mira could not let herself take pleasure from it, knowing the source. This was no willing donor. This was a fallen comrade. A fellow vampire. One of her own kind. His death ordered by the command of the humans. No matter how good his blood tasted, it was not for her to enjoy. She’d take only what she needed to heal from her wounds, and let his death come quickly. 

More cheers erupted around Mira. The crowd, despite being entirely human, proved more bloodthirsty than she. The irony of it was sickening. Distantly, she heard the announcer proclaim her the winner.

With a roar, she threw her head back, ripping out her opponent’s throat, spraying what remained of his blood out into the air. They wanted carnage – they could have it. She had to keep her adoring fans happy lest they turn on her. In the arena, the life or death of a gladiator often came down to the will of the crowd. And though she was repulsed by what she had to do, she knew how to play the game.

The satisfying flush of fresh blood in her system and the heady rush that came with it was short lived. The reality of her situation was always close to the surface. Above, the giant dome roof parted, sending a hot blast of UV light down around Mira like a cage.

Not wanting to let them regain their strength, the humans were quick to remind vampires where their place was and who their masters were. Not even afforded a moment’s respite for her victory, Mira was already enduring the painful reminder that she was a slave. Worse, a prisoner.

Her skin singed where the light touched. Instinctively, she held up her hands in surrender. The faster she let them haul her away to the prison level, the better.

The crowd around still roared with applause. But were they cheering for Mira, or happy to see her being tortured by blinding light? A bit of both, probably. Humans loved to see any bit of vampire suffering. Though it angered her, Mira would not show it and invite their ire.

Two humans, one male and one female, approached Mira, both wearing standard issue black Kevlar body suits and hoods with a wooden stake and hammer emblazoned across the chest. Handlers. Specially trained to deal with vampires and equipped to kill if necessary. Among their weapons were UV torches, quick blasting light sticks able to direct a powerful beam of ultraviolet light at the push of a button. The female’s hand inched towards her UV torch as they approached Mira. She was a new appointee as Mira’s handler, who preferred to shoot first and ask questions later. Mira hated the mocha-skinned Amazon wannabe and would have loved nothing more than to rip her to shreds. Few females were allowed to be handlers, and this one had wanted to prove herself from the moment she’d been assigned to Mira. 

Once Mira might have acted on her desire to kill the nuisance handler and take whatever punishment she’d be given, but after years in this prison Mira had learned her lesson. Fighting back was best done strategically. Immortality was not invincibility, and she was no fool.

“Arms out, slave.” The largest of the two handlers, a male with a deep voice, barked the order at her.

“Come to congratulate me on my victory and adorn me with jewelry?” With a cocky smile, she held out her hands, awaiting the silver cuffs with which they’d restrain her.

“Silence!” The male refused to look at her. He fastened the cuffs around her wrists and pulled back quickly, almost as if he feared what Mira might do.

Silver stung her skin, but Mira wouldn’t let on that she was in any pain. “I always did have a thing for the strong silent types.” She smirked despite the discomfort the cuffs were already creating. Hives were beginning to pepper Mira’s smooth alabaster skin. An annoying allergic reaction, but she’d never admit how much it bothered her. Any sign of weakness could be exploited.

The male handler refused to acknowledge her or engage her further. He continued to work shackling her feet and then connected another silver chain between the two sets of restraints. When finished, he pointed toward the door at the edge of the arena. The female handler pressed a few buttons on a small communicator device around her wrist. Above, the dome began to close, and the shafts of light surrounding Mira vanished.

Thankful to be back in the dark, Mira nodded to her handlers as if to say, “Lead on,” and followed as they directed her away from the arena, down to the pens.

Her moment of fame was over.

Not a word was exchanged between Mira and her handlers as they exited the arena and headed down through the lower levels toward the prison. Only the sound of their bootsteps on the smooth concrete broke the silence. Not that Mira had anything to say to the pair of humans who ushered her back and forth from the arena to her cell, but it would be nice if occasionally she was treated as something more than an unwanted creature whose usefulness had ended the moment she dealt her final blow in the arena.

The silence ended as they passed through a set of thick metal doors. The light beyond dimmed, but the echoes of agony through the corridors became intensely vivid. Deep within the underground, where no sunlight could reach, was where the vampires were kept. Dark and dank, scented with the foul odor of unwashed bodies, blood, and mold, this was the place Mira called home, the only place she’d known for the last thirty years. She was lucky to have lived that long. Countless other vampires had come and gone before her, and many more had been slain at the point of her own teeth. The gladiator’s life was all she knew now. Occasionally there were vague remembrances of what life had been like before her capture, but almost her entire vampire existence had been down in these dirty cells.

Fed only with the blood of other unwanted vermin, the humans had practically starved Mira and her kind to the point of savagery. It not only served to keep her kind more eager to fight in the arena, but also reinforced the image of their savagery in the human population’s mind. 

Rounding one dark corridor and heading down another equally gloomy one, the trio traveled further into the murky underbelly of the arena. Mournful howls and agonizing screams grated on Mira’s nerves as they passed by the Hall of Punishment. Vampires who failed in battle but had not been killed were made to suffer unthinkable tortures at the hands of their human owners. Mira had unfortunately seen the inside of that hall on more than one occasion. If vampires could scar, she’d be unrecognizably disfigured from her time within those walls. Her punishments, rather than for failure in battle, had been ordered as attempts to break her spirit. No one, neither her handlers nor her Owner, had any affection for Mira. Free-spirited, uncooperative, and cocky as she was, Mira had not broken. Not once. No matter what vile punishments they’d thrown at her. As long as she was imprisoned in Iron Gate, she had one thought and one thought only… freedom. She’d have it someday, no matter how long it took. But though she loathed the arena and the life she had to lead, she knew that staying alive was the only way to get that freedom she so desired. And to do that, she had to remain a winner in the arena. It was the only reason she was still alive, despite her many attempts at escape and even more episodes of bad behavior. She knew as long as she kept winning, and earning her Owner lots of prize money, she’d be safe from final death.

They passed through a large corridor of prison cells before finally reaching Mira’s, a small six-by-eight-foot cage of silver-coated steel bars with an automatically locking doorway. Her door, marked number 8254-A, was locked via an electronic keypad. Mira casually glanced over, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, as they entered the ten-digit access code on the keypad. 753951…

The butt of a UV torch connected with the back of her head. A lightning fast jolt of pain had Mira hissing through gritted teeth.

“Eyes forward, slave,” the female handler ordered.

Instinct more than anger drove Mira to turn on her handler. The fresh throbbing in her head mixed with frantic energy from her recent feed. Mira snarled, fangs bared, ready to strike, and advanced on the female handler.

Gone was the stony expression on the human woman’s face. Fear widened her eyes. Realization. Complete understanding of what a vampire is capable of, especially a formidable arena gladiator who’d just fed…

“Stand down, vampire.” The human woman tried to put authority into her voice, but her fear was clear, and Mira wasn’t in the mood to take orders.

With little effort, Mira snapped apart the silver shackles and grabbed hold of her handler’s neck. Ready to squeeze the human woman like a bug, Mira tightened her grip, choking off the handler’s air supply as she forced her backwards onto the silver-coated cell bars.

Alarms sounded all around her. The other handler turned on his UV light and shined it in Mira’s face. She closed her eyes against the sting but refused to let go. Fangs still bared, she bit blindly at her handler, enjoying the terrified screams, savoring the delicious tremors running through the human’s weak body.

An army of heavy-footed steps flooded the corridor. More handlers were arriving. Mira had shaken up the hornets’ nest this time. The taste of the handler’s fresh blood would not be worth the punishment they’d deliver if she killed the human. Just as she was ready to release her prey, the entire cell block flooded with light. In a fraction of a second, Mira’s skin felt as if it had gone up in flames. She, however, was not the only one to suffer. Other vampires peacefully lounging in their cells began to howl in pain as the dreadful light filled every inch of space.

Her whole body on fire, Mira released her prey and balled herself up, trying to hide in the small shadows created by those standing around her.  

Something hard connected with Mira’s head. She blacked out for the briefest of moments, which was all the humans needed to shove her into her cell and slam the door shut. Once secured, the lights went out and an eerie silence replaced the previous chaos.

“Try that again, you fucking leech, and we’ll see you staked out in the morning sun,” the male handler spat at her. He held tight to his compatriot, inspecting her Kevlar suit for any signs of damage.

Skin crispy, flaking off of her body, there wasn’t an inch of Mira that didn’t hurt; yet still she managed to laugh. “Come in here and say that, big man.”

The male handler, having finished his once-over of his partner, turned his UV torch on Mira in response.

Already at the limits of what she could feel, Mira continued to laugh through the burning blast of light.

“She’s fucking crazy,” the female handler yelled over Mira’s cackling laughter.

The male handler nodded stiffly and clicked off his torch. “What do you expect, she’s a leech.”

“Yeah, because humans are so sane,” Mira retorted. Though she tried to sound cocky, she couldn’t hide the edge of pain in her voice. There was not an inch of her body that was not raw and angry at that moment.

“Don’t let her taunt you. File an incident report on that crazy leech, and she’ll get what’s coming to her.” The voices trailed off.

Mira stared up at the ceiling. The coolness of the concrete floor was a small comfort to her searing skin. Her wounds were already beginning to heal, thanks to the blood she’d been able to drink in battle, but Mira knew that was the last she’d taste for a while. No doubt the handlers would report her to her Owner, and she’d be given some archaic punishment for her crimes. Even in their heyday, vampires had never been as cruel as the humans now were to them. Some deserved death, sure, but the rest just wanted to live their eternity in comfort and peace.

“Good job, Mira,” George, a male vampire in the adjacent cell groaned. “Did we all need to suffer for your midnight snack?”

Mira huffed in frustration, at war with herself over what she’d just done. Part of her felt guilty for what the other vampires had endured because of her actions, but another part was not going to stand by idly while the humans attacked her for no reason. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have the balls to try it yourself.”

“I’m not that stupid.” George’s dark bald head appeared at the bars. Though he sounded angry, none of it showed in his concerned expression. “This is a maximum security facility. There are cameras, monitors, sensors. Face it, honey, we’re stuck in here until the day we die.”

“Well, as I recall, you were the one doing the fucking last night. You were gone more than five hours.” Her muscles protested every movement, but Mira slowly rolled over on to her stomach and gingerly pushed herself up to her knees. She was healing, but not quickly enough for her liking. “Is it true? Did you get a new Patron?”

“I know how to play the game.” A cocky smile replaced the look of concern. George flashed her his perfectly white, perfectly sharp teeth. Tall, well-built, dark skinned-for a vampire – and that beautiful bald head human women seemed to just adore. That man knew his strengths; he was a handsome devil who flaunted it every chance he got, and it worked wonders. He hadn’t been in the arena for well over a month, too busy with his ever-growing list of admirers. “Yep.  Got myself a hot vein and a little free time. Which is more than most of us can hope for.”

 “Well, have fun being a human’s play toy,” she grumbled.  Jealousy burned in Mira’s gut. She may not have been a traditional beauty, but she was the best fighter in the place, and she’d never attracted a Patron. Fresh blood. Small comforts. The ability to leave your cell, even if it was only to service your Patron. Those were luxuries she’d never been afforded. George was a pretty face, he wasn’t even that great a fighter, and somehow he had managed to get Patrons lining up around the building for a few moments of his service. 

“Oh, I will. Beats the punishment you’re about to endure.”

Mira lifted her head just enough to see a pair of expensive heels walking down the way toward her cell. She knew the familiar clip-clop of her Owner’s stilettos.
Damn.
She’d hoped it would be a little while longer before her Owner had gotten wind of Mira’s disobedience.

Speaking of traditional beauties… her Owner, a former runway model and a pretty little princess in her own right, seethed with anger as she approached the cell. Mira didn’t need to look up to know the deep hazel eyes of Olivia Preston were staring down at her through impossibly long and thick eyelashes. Her perfectly pink lip would be curled upward in a dangerous sneer. Olivia was the worst kind of Owner Mira could have landed: beautiful, spoiled, and self-important. “Stand up, slave. Show your master some respect!”

Respect. The woman didn’t know the meaning of the word. Olivia Preston was well known for treating everyone — vampire and human alike — as if they were her things. Try as she might, Mira could hardly hold back her contempt for the pampered little princess. “The fact that I haven’t attempted to rip your throat out is a show of respect all its own.”

Unaffected by Mira’s threat, Olivia continued to stare down the imprisoned vampire. “If you weren’t such a damn good fighter, I’d have you put down like the dog you are.”

“I should be so lucky.”

Olivia wouldn’t follow through with that threat; Mira knew that, though she could do many worse things. She wouldn’t kill her prize fighter. The money Mira earned her for all the battles she’d won had paid for every piece of expensive clothing she wore, all the way down to her gaudy, gem-encrusted heels.

“I had come here to congratulate you on your win today…”

Mira waited in silence, refusing to look up at her Owner, who was impatiently tapping her heels on the concrete ground. She knew there was nothing at the end of that sentence that she really wanted to hear.

Olivia’s foot came to rest. “…Instead, I get a report you attacked your handler.”

“She threw the first punch.” Mira laughed. “Too bad she couldn’t back it up.” She shouldn’t have said it, but couldn’t hold her tongue.

“This was meant to be your reward.”

Mira had to look up this time to see just what her Owner was holding.

Clutched in her pale pink claws, was a small vial with red liquid inside.

Instinctively, Mira began to salivate. Blood. As much as she enjoyed disrespecting her Owner, this might not have been the best time to do it.

Recognition flashed in Olivia’s hazel eyes. “Yes. Now I have your attention, don’t I?

She dropped the small vial to the ground, where it shattered.

The sweet scent of that crimson liquid wafted up to Mira’s nose.
Such a terrible waste.
It almost brought a tear to her eyes. If she hadn’t already fed today, she’d probably have licked it off the floor, shards of glass and all. Other vampires in the area had caught wind of the smell too, and they whined and begged for a small taste.

Olivia sneered at Mira. “You need an attitude adjustment. You want to smart off and be disrespectful to me… you’ll pay for it.”

Here it comes: the punishment.
There was nothing for her to say; she’d already said enough to piss off her Owner.

“Forty-eight hours in the lightbox. No blood after. Perhaps that will teach you a little respect.” She turned on her heel and stormed away.

“Respect. Ha! I haven’t learned it yet. And you haven’t earned it,” Mira shouted back to her Owner. She was already in for the worst punishment possible – might as well get in a final jab while she could.

“Damn, girl.” George whistled. “Humans do love a tan, but you’re going to be one crispy thing after forty-eight hours.”

Mira had no reply. He spoke the truth. The lightbox was truly the worst kind of punishment a vampire could be given. Intermittent flashes of light just long enough to burn but not long enough to kill. It was with methods like this that the humans had enslaved her kind. One weakness was all they needed to exploit. Humans grossly outnumbered vampires, and with this one weakness, they had brought the vampire nation to its knees.