Darkling (3 page)

“You are here simply to be offered a job. If you decide against our offer, you will be safely returned to any place you wish. Of course, some of the things that you’ve stumbled upon on your way here,” he said with a wink, “would be removed from your memory.”

Just when I thought nothing more could startle me.

“Removed?” I whispered.

“To compel you to go on as normal, my dear. You would continue your life as if nothing unusual had happened. You might call it sort of hypnoses or mind manipulation if you like. No damage at all.”

For some ridiculous reason, the feeling of fear was starting to lose its edge. And my heart had almost returned to its regular beat.

“If that’s true, there is no real choice here, is there? You could just compel me to do by your will.”

“I could but that would be against our laws, my dear. Compelling is forbidden unless it is used to maintain our secrecy. People have to decide by their own free will; otherwise, what’s the use of having it?”

“So, what kind of talent is worth of all this trouble?”

“No trouble at all, dear. When Oswald sent me a video recording from the lobby, I was more than eager to meet with you. This talent that you have is a certain empathy that is synced with our enemies’. I don’t know what is behind it, but some people have it. And it’s extremely rare.”

“Enemies?” A chill went through my spine. I couldn’t even start to imagine what could possibly be more dangerous than those fangs and speed.

“We vampires have enemies among our own race, sort to speak. You had the luck of meeting one.”

I blinked confusedly, there’s no way the morose man from the lobby was scarier than this one facing me!

“They are, let us say, untamed types of vampires and our deadly enemies. For centuries, we fought their attacks and as the generations changed, some of my ideas evolved into projects. Like this one, for example. With time, I collected several talented people capable of quality dialog without Vocati endangering their lives. Invoked Ones, or Vocati, is the name of our enemy. And the story behind this Project is to get to know them better. Different approach to the fight.

“They are stronger and faster, and bigger in numbers than our Warriors. I believe that the old form of defense and “hit & run,” as well as the lack of strategy, are annihilating my race, especially since we are not
created
as they are, but are born.”

“What would my job be?” I asked quietly.

“You already had a taste of it when you made a connection with the one in the lobby.” He grinned and I tensed at the sight of his teeth. “And this particular specimen that Oswald got is a very special one. In fact, I didn’t even know that Vocati of its range would positively react to humans, and yet its reaction to you was very charming. So was yours.

“All in all, there is no danger. At the moment he is being restrained with pure silver and he cannot even walk, let alone attack. Your job would be to spend several hours with him and engage him in conversation. Four days a week. You should discover something about him, his life—or anything that he gives you. Any information is good information. Of course, you will first go through a three-week training period before meeting him. You’ll be trained to mentally and physically react to various situations.” He wrote something on a piece of paper and passed it to me.

A five-digit number.

“That would be your monthly salary. Since you are a student, online studies of your choice will be provided. Our teams would create a valid cover story for family and friends, to protect you. It’s an annual contract, and you would be an employee of Gazini, Inc.”

“What kind of cover story?”

“You can stay in contact with whomever you want. Teams would lightly compel them, feed them with some story that leaves you space to do your job with no worries.”

Listening to him, something clicked inside of me and suddenly things start functioning again. A huge weight fell from my shoulders. And then—thrill overwhelmed me. It was okay after all. Well, more or less. But I wasn’t not gonna end up as someone’s victim, food, prostitute, or ritual animal. I’d stay the way I was in the place of my choice—mythological mansion—earning lots of money in the weirdest way on the planet. White Rabbit really had brought me to Wonderland, because all of this
only
existed in kids’ nightmares and horror movies.

“Now, shall we proceed to dinner? You will meet the other Inquirers and the rest of those who work on the Project.”

His suddenly firm demeanor didn’t leave much space for the questions that had begun to surface.

Chapter 2

Dinner

The dining room was on the ground floor. As we approached, voices grew louder and my legs felt like they weighed a ton. I made a big effort not to lag behind the vampire, who had a graciously slow pace about him. Near the open door, I could hear the buzzing sound in my ears. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was sure there was no “Welcome!” sign. A grotesque image of
persons
with their fangs out wearing party caps and throwing confetti flashed in front of my eyes. It made me shiver all over again, and the air seemed to turn colder.

When we entered, the noise softened to a murmur, but there was no uncomfortable silence. Thank God. I had been dreading a grave hush with all eyes aimed in my direction, as if I was the main suspect of some indisputable crime. One of my worst nightmares: their fangs slowly dripping from the corners of their mouths while looking straight at me. If I hadn’t already been so stiff I would have been shaking again.

Not all of them looked at me. And the ones who did seemed either interested or indifferent. It felt slightly better than it did when I had been transferred to another school in the middle of semester. I hoped that I passed the worst.

I followed Baldur to the big U-shaped table. He sat at the head and offered me the place next to him. Carefully I obeyed, feeling more gazes on me. Oh, no. My heart sped up and the warmth spread over and reddened my face. I kept my eyes on the table, scared of locking them with someone else’s eyes—or fangs. Baldur made a slight move with his arm and everybody went silent.

“You’ve all heard by now that Oswald’s team got one true Vocati. What strikes me the most is that during his transport we found out an interesting fact, something that even I dismissed as impossible a long time ago. Even the Originals can make
connection
with humans! Thus, the presence of Miss Young.” He smiled at me, and my forehead burned with the gazes.

A new layer of redness blanketed me, but I tried to hold my eyes up, glancing over the heads in front of me.

The faces at the table were mostly pale and incredibly calm, as if in a line of porcelain dolls on a big shelf. I expected a more dramatic difference between them and me, but they only looked more pale and serene. It was the lack of pallor and calm that helped me to recognize
humans
at the table. There were six of them and they were sitting to my right.

They seemed most intrigued by me and somehow their presence brought me some peace. Does that make me a racist? If I weren’t so frightened I’d probably toss a little smile to my joke.

Baldur said that I would meet the rest of my team after dinner, and then called for the servants with a crystal bell. For some reason, that sound of the bell made me want to laugh hysterically, which I fought hard to keep down. It was tempting and inappropriate, like laughing in the middle of a funeral.

I expected a plate displaying a human head with an apple in its mouth, human roast, goulash of human organs, and goblets filled with blood. Luckily, I was wrong. Tonight’s menu was French cuisine, and of the three offered plates, I chose beef with cherry sauce. It was hard not to choose it, and the instant I tasted it, the subdued famine kicked in. I didn’t mind the red wine they served me. It was tasty. I thought of cows and asked myself if one could make beef out of person. A totally bizarre thought. However, I enjoyed the dinner so much that I almost forgot the table was full of vampires. Almost. Still too frightened to meet anyone’s eyes, I focused on my plate.

For dessert, we moved to another hall where a sweet feast filled a round table. There were all sorts of cakes, puddings, muffins, ice creams, fruit salads—it was like being in the Hansel and Gretel fairytale (no question of Baldur’s role in that story). I stuck to him like a three-year-old with her mom, terrified of being alone. Knowing that I was not, in fact, three, Baldur had stopped paying attention to me, probably assuming that I could behave in company. But the problem was that most of them were not exactly
people
. So I continued to follow the known evil.

When he stopped next to the three men, three male vampires—could I call them men?—he finally turned to me, indicating to one of them.

“This is Belun, our noble blood, and great strategist and fighter. He will lead your team and you will answer first to him and then to me. Now, we leave you.” With those words, the other two men began to follow him out.

I stood nailed to the spot. In front of me was Belun, tall and in his mid-twenties. Dark hair fell across his forehead, shadowing his right eye. His deep green eyes were looking right into me with an unpleasant tension. Nervously, I lowered my gaze. In his black dress shirt and dark blue jeans, he stood like a pillar waiting for me to crash into him with my full stamina. The silence between us was too long and discomfort took over. What did I do to deserve him looking at me like I was a friggin’ insect?!

Then he spoke, his voice short and sharp.

“Andrei Belun.”

I swallowed and gathered a little courage to look up at his eyes again.

“Nika Young.” I offered my hand and a bewildered look crossed his features. He held my hand a bit stronger than necessary, and a sudden jolt echoed through my body. For sure my face reddened again.

His hand was smooth and firm, a bit colder than mine. His gaze was devoid of positive emotions, and then he let my hand go.

“The weekly training schedule is in your suite,” he said, turning and leaving.

Baffled, I stood staring at his back until he was lost among the other people—creatures, whatever! That was so unpleasant. A schedule? I don’t remember accepting the job offer, but then I remembered Baldur’s fangs, and swallowed dryly. For a second, the hall started spinning. It was either the wine or terror, or something in food. I took an unsure step in a random direction. I was standing in the center of the hall. The buzzing in my ears started up again and a little voice started screaming inside my head. I didn’t try to calm it; I helplessly watched while the floor design threatened to chew me up.

“You alright?” I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I froze, expecting the worst punishment. A woman with blond wavy hair in a tight red knee-length dress was smiling at me. She was in her early thirties and holding a half-full glass of champagne that I couldn’t take my eyes off.

“Oh, you want this?” She passed me the glass.

I drank it down, not bothering to stop to taste it. She was still smiling.

“Better?”

My silence didn’t stop her.

“Really dear, there’s no reason for that going-to-the-gallows look.”

“Can you blame me?” I managed to say, and she uttered a charming laugh.

I had noticed that
people
here had a tendency to laugh. And she wasn’t at all pale.

“Of course not, but no one has seemed as perplexed as you do. How old are you anyway?”

“Eighteen.”

“Oh, you are the youngest of us,” she stopped to look at me better. “My name is Julia, I’m also an Inquirer and I was told that we are suitemates.”

“Nika.” This time my voice sounded slightly more confident.

“Nice to meet you, Nika. I believe that after the initial shock you will actually enjoy it here,” she said with an accent I couldn’t identify. She took my hand and led the way.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“San Diego. You?”

“Minsk.”

Of course I didn’t know where the hell that was, but I was embarrassed to ask. One thing was certain: the woman saved me from fainting in a place full of vampires. Plus, she seemed honest enough. And assuming my geographical ignorance, she explained.

“Minsk is the capital of Belarus. Eastern Europe.”

I forced a tiny smile.

“I know it’s a lot to digest for now but it’s all fun, really. You’ll see as soon as you relax a bit.”

I thought of the dark green gaze that had been thrown like a rock into my face. Yeah right, I’m gonna really like it here . . . but I didn’t want to burst her enthusiasm with my gloom. She stopped next to some people I had seen at the table.

“These are your colleagues. This is Lyndon; she’s a year older than you and she’s from London.” Julia grinned again.

Lyndon shook my hand and I told her my name.

“This is Max. He’s from Austria. And this is our one and only Blake Mason. He’s your countryman from Boston.”

Max, a chubby guy in his late thirties with a receding hairline, was grinning along with Julia. Blake was only a couple of years older than I was and seemed curious. Lyndon clearly hadn’t developed an opinion of me; nevertheless, a certain arrogance definitely came across.

“So, from where do
you
come from?” Max joyfully asked, holding a plate of cake.

I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant.

“Born and bred in California, busted in Iowa.”

“You sound as if they put you in a cage and tortured you for days.” That was Lyndon.

“What were you doing in Iowa for God’s sake?” The corner of Blake’s mouth was tilted up.

 “I’m starting to wonder that myself, actually…”

They all laughed at my response, all but Lyndon. I was not sure what was so funny, as I wasn’t joking. Judging by their expressions, they seemed to already have accepted me.

“You are the youngest and I know how this must be shocking for you. But trust me, you’ll settle in just fine here,” Max offered.

“Settle in fine? She’ll be legend!” Julia grinned at me again. “First Inquirer of the Original!” She gave me a friendly hit with her shoulder, and I fabricated another smile.