Jaded Touch (Vesper) (2 page)

I scrambled back away from the violence and found my place on my knees, my head lowered, contrite. I couldn’t bring myself to meet the stunned eyes of my Lady or her little, mute daughter. “Milady.” My voice shook with fear. Oh, no.

Vashni bent and whispered into her daughter’s ear, and her bald Vesper Child – the Original Child, our most sacred immortal – turned and walked away with her bathrobe cinched tight around her waist. I shivered. I’d not only broken Vashni’s explicit command to stop fighting my sisters: I’d done it in front of the one we were supposed to protect from all harm. The precious Child of Vashni and Levitiqas, born in the Garden where it all began.

I felt a feather-light touch on my hair and shuddered with shame.

“They were cruel to you again?” Vashni asked.

Her voice was so gentle with understanding, yet authoritarian, and somehow disappointed at the same time. I shook and kept my head bowed, submissive though she touched me with kindness. “I’m sorry. I lost control.”

“Again.” The disapproval in her voice was clear, though I got the impression it wasn’t only directed at me.

I nodded. “I’m sorry.” I had no excuse for my actions, for violence against my sisters in our peaceful home.

“We are not animals, like the Gents. We are not cruel, nor are we barbarians, fighting and bleeding all over the palace.”

I knew this. I knew Vashni wanted us to be very different from the Gents, the male Vespers who fought and killed one another so often. Yet when Rachel touched my scars as no one else dared to do, the pain wasn’t one I could ignore. Coupled with humiliation... could she really blame me?

Yes. Yes, she could. Though she knew my history, her sympathy only ran so far. My history was buried in the past, where she felt I should leave it, if only my sisters would let me.

“You will be confined to your room for one week. As will your sisters. Clean up your mess, first, Three.” Vashni turned, scooped up my sisters by an arm on each, and left. Kind or not, she was still an Original Immortal, and still protective of the rules I’d broken more than once.

I bowed low as she left, obedient and contrite. All I’d meant to do was take a bath, and avoid my sisters like the plagues they were. Instead, I’d broken both the rules and Vashni’s trust in me. I sighed, grabbed the stack of towels from near the wall and began to clean up.

Locked in my ornate, private room of the underground palace, I stared at the wall, wishing I could see the moonlight. My books and movies couldn’t distract me from my disappointment in myself, nor could the delicate twists of pure gold vines along my walls soothe the frustration with my sisters. Such material things didn’t matter when I couldn’t control my temper or change my circumstances to escape Rachel and Hirah. The nighttime sky always comforted my struggles, whether I was battling my rage, my yearning for a glimpse of memory of my creator, or the solitude of Vesper life that tore me apart. But lockdown meant isolation for the week Vashni specified, so I prayed the moonlight would still be there waiting for me when I got out. My beloved, mysterious creator was long gone. Killed for his crimes – one of which was my existence. And now I suffered because of it, because I was made by him and my sisters were unforgiving wenches.

Sometimes, I wondered what I’d do if given the chance to step outside the rules and try living life as a reckless human might live it. And each day of bored, agonizing solitude reminded me that even an immortal life had a time limit, even if only by the stern hands of our masters. Each day that passed, I was a day closer to that uncertain end, and wasting time as I grew angrier and more alone.

I didn’t want to be angry and alone anymore. But I was a slave. A Vesper servant, protecting the human race, our food source. I didn’t have a choice.

Crash

I dropped from a tree branch at just the right moment and landed on the roof of the train with a clang. The freeing whip of the midnight wind through my hair after a solid week confined to my room refreshed me out of my despondent mood. I inhaled through my nose and tasted all the most invigorating scents the world had to offer: pine, Earth, water, metal, and the heat of friction beneath the train. Yes, I had terrible sisters and ugly scars. Yes, my past was equally ugly. But that didn’t mean my future had to be just as bad, not if I didn’t let it. Besides, my life was a million times better than the life of the Gents. The male Vespers had to serve beneath Levitiqas, and my Lady Vashni was an angel by comparison.

I cranked open the top-hatch of the engine and poked my head inside. The train men knew not to look up until spoken to. If I was a Gent, they’d probably get smacked around for being so bold. But the drivers were responsible for our safe transport, and the Original Child’s transfer between her parents’ homes. I felt we owed them respect, if nothing else.

“Hey, boys!” I called, and the two train men looked up – safe to do so, because I wasn’t a brutal Gent here to torture the humans for fun.

Jack - the engineer, a well-tanned man in his twenties with a genuine, boyish smile – grinned. “Hey, Three, what the fuck are you doing out?”

I smirked at his casual profanity. Jack was always so fearless... with me, anyway. I had no idea how he behaved in the presence of Gents, since we weren’t allowed to travel together. “I was on lockdown for a while. Needed the fresh air.”

The shorter, older man next to him looked back to his work. Jack had been a hogger with the train company for less than a year, but adapted so easily to the presence of man-eating immortals upon his trains that he spoke with a casual attitude. Smart-mouthed and fearless. I wondered how long he would last until he crossed the wrong Gent with his careless tongue and dehydrated into a tasty little snack, poisoned by Vesper fangs. His companion was newer to the company and shied back to his duties while Jack slung his arm over the back of his seat and studied me, grinning the whole time.

“Lockdown for what?” Jack asked, squinting as though he couldn’t fathom a Vesper in trouble.

I shifted to lean a little further into the top of the engine. “Fighting. I beat Rachel and Hirah into rude little wench-puddles.”

Jack let out a sharp laugh. “Good job, Three. Bitches deserved it.”

I returned his smile and shrugged. “They may have deserved it, but it’s not my right to do so. It’s a rule in our palace: no fighting.”

“Why break the rules, if you’re going to get grounded for it?” Jack asked.

I giggled.
Grounded.
Like we were petulant children.
I suppose we act like it, sometimes.
“Sometimes I just can’t resist, even if it gets me in trouble.”

Jack spun his chair and crossed his hands behind his head, peering up at me. I tried to ignore his solid biceps flexing with the motion, and the way I wanted to drop into the engine and sit closer to him. Something mischievous lit a spark to his features, and I tilted my head, curious.

“Funny,” he said. “Sometimes I just can’t resist things either, even if it gets me in trouble.”

I blinked. What?

Jack’s mischievous gaze darkened in the silence after his words. He cleared his throat and brought his hands down into his lap, averting his gaze, and it dawned on me.

He was talking about resisting
me.
Oh. And by my lack of reply, he probably thought he was already in trouble for the insinuation.

“I guess we have that in common,” I said.

Jack nodded. “Wonder what else we have in common?”

I wondered, too. Was that a door I wanted to open?

Yes, yes it was. Jack’s charm was infectious. But I knew the rules. And I was going to try to follow them better to keep myself out of lockdown. I thumbed over my shoulder. “I’ll be in the lounge car if you need me.”

He licked his lips and something humorous glinted in his eyes. “Why would I need you?”

Good point. I liked Jack. What wasn’t to like? He spoke casually to me, he kept in shape, and his skin was nicely tanned from many long evenings on his patio, barbecuing with other train men and probably drinking heavily, as our fearful, traumatized hoggers tended to do. That’s how I imagined he spent his spare time, anyway. I shook my head, embarrassed that I’d imagined it so thoroughly.

Yes, I liked him. And now he probably knew it. I should have just gone to the lounge car without bothering to say hi. The smile melted off my face in an attempt to hide my familiarity and I rose to my feet, kicking the hatch shut. It made a satisfying, loud thud that vanished behind me in the whip of the train’s momentum, and I stalked back to the lounge car and slid inside.

I was busy beading a stone and leather bracelet in the lounge car halfway back the length of the train when I felt the explosion. I didn’t have time to guess at what happened, because the train flipped and I struggled to find my orientation, scrambling
up
the floor as the car tilted sideways. I relented in the struggle to climb and let myself slide down the floor on my ass until I reached the open side door of the car, and I tried to get out. But the crunch of folding metal surrounded me and my legs were pinned down against the Earth, the train car smashing me into the soft dirt.

I scoffed as the dust and mud settled around me.
Lucky I’m not human!
What the hell blew up?
My legs ached from the crash and the way I was trapped beneath the crumpled, still-groaning metal, but my body was intact. I wiggled my toes, relieved to be unharmed. Yep, that good ol’ Vesper strength came through for me again.

I heard shouting at the front of the train and knew I had to get out if I was going to help the humans, the faithful train operators who transported us across the Canadian countryside without fail. I tried to pull my legs out, but I’d likely come away missing a boot. Why did something bad have to happen
now?
I had to handle this carefully. I didn’t want another tedious week of confinement if I screwed anything up again.

More shouting, and the sound of metal on metal. The men! Were they stuck? They knew I was on board, so I guessed they were trying to make sure their prized passenger was alright. I wrapped my fingers around the frame of the giant, sliding door that pinned me down, and began to heave. I pulled and pried until the metal bent against my superior strength, and I was able to wriggle my legs out, boots and all.

I’d dare any male Vesper to challenge that we Maids were inferior of physical strength!

I dusted my hands off, staining my dark jeans, shook some wads of mud and grass out of my black curls. Thank God my boots were okay. It wasn’t exactly a fetish – I just loved leather boots of any variety. These were my knee-high, black lace-up chunk heels, and I didn’t want to lose them to the dirt beneath a train, of all things. I dusted them off, too, and then dove at the roof of the train – which was on my left, thanks to the derailment - throwing my weight and strength into the impact of my shoulder. I shoved until the metal creaked once again, welding seams popped, and a hole opened in the corner of the train car where the joints met. I pried at the hole and widened it to accommodate my slight figure, and then slipped through unmarred, though the sharp edge of metal ripped a bit of my shirt by my shoulder.

I bolted forward, my heels pounding the iron of the rail, until I reached the engine of the overturned train. We trusted these humans with our immortal lives, and I owed it to them to make sure they were alright.

I sprang into the air and landed on the side of another car, the wheels still slowly turning in the air as I ran atop it. I reached the engine and poked my head inside, but there was no engineer, no conductor… no one. The entire engine was blackened by smoke, the wheels were distorted from the explosion, and the grass around the tracks was black for half the length of the overturned train behind me. I straightened and gazed around, scanning for signs of life, or anything else. All I saw was the low fire burning in the damp grass to the side, probably caused by sparking of the wheels on the rail, or perhaps by the explosion itself. There was no one around to tell me what the hell happened.

This was bad. I craned my neck to survey and took in the hot smell of death, and the faint thrumming of a heartbeat somewhere nearby. Someone was still alive, at least.

“Three…” a voice tugged my attention from deep down in the ditch.

I leapt off the train and skidded through the wet ditch until I reached his side. The train engineer half-sat, leaning on his elbow, clutching his bicep. The familiar scent of hot blood wafted through my nostrils and I clenched my jaw shut to staunch the natural flow of poison from my fangs that surged whenever my appetite was pricked.

Hoggers were not food. We needed them; therefore we were only allowed to kill them if they broke the rules. My Lady made sure we understood
that
best of all.

I slid to a halt and pressed my hand to his bicep, trying to stop the bleeding. His muscle was solid and warm, liquid pulsing through my cold fingers, and I peered up into his face.

“Jack,” I said, relieved he was okay. He cringed, his face dirty and swollen.

“I’m sorry, Three.” His voice was breathless with fear. “I saw people on the tracks, so I called for the brakeman… all of the other hoggers are dead. The people... the ones on the tracks... cut the brakeman to pieces, and I hid...” Jack shuddered, his brown hair quivering with the motion over a dark, bruised temple.

I pushed him down onto his back, my hand still firm against his wounded bicep and climbed over him. I tossed my black curls out of my face as a vicious gust of wind rushed around us, and laid my hand against his forehead. I might not be the oldest of Vespers, or even the most senior of the Maids, but I ran at a cool enough temperature to soothe the ache in his head, so I pressed on the purple swelling like an ice pack.

“Breathe, Jack,” I whispered, and he shook again. “Who? Who did you see on the tracks?”

He shivered. Shock? How much blood had he lost? Would he be able to stay conscious long enough to give me the answers I needed? His blood was so hot on my hands, and that familiar hunger surged through me at the contact. I wanted to taste it. To drink just a touch, and then let him crumple up so I could swallow him whole…