The private rooms in Hawthorne Manor were massive; the guest room for preferred guests, as Ophelia called it, was bigger than my farmhouse. Melissa and Adrian’s apartment was also bigger than where I lived, but this room was bigger than that too.

  The bed alone was calling my name, and Ophelia had told me when I arrived that I would be better off sleeping for the few hours of daylight left before she escorted me. So, having my own private room and private catering was a treat.

  Lord Hawthorne wasn’t able to come meet me himself, since it seemed he had to visit an “elder,” whatever that was. Ophelia was in charge, and without her father here, the entire maid-and-butler corps had been running a lot less stressed. It didn’t mean I was getting less attention, as more food and more drinks kept showing up at my door.

  Ophelia opened the door an hour later, entering in clothing that seemed similar to her father’s: a black overcoat with a red corset—except instead of dress pants and a cravat, she had elected to wear shorts and a golden necklace with Amaril’s eye on it. On her hips was a simple sheath for a knife, but her hands—her claws—looked far more dangerous.

  Her face was dolled up, her short white hair underneath a headband, and her pale lips painted black. Her eyeshadow was also the same dark shade as she stared up at me. “Lady Hart—”

  “You can call me Ashley. Or Ash. Or Ashy, since…”

  “...Ashy, then. You wanted me to take you out to see the world for your blight project?”

  “Yes,” I affirmed, looking at her outfit again. “I… think that’s probably the best bet; otherwise, I’d have to ask Lord Haw—”

  “Don’t,” she dryly interrupted. “I can tell you’re smitten with him—most women your age are. But, and I must remind you of this—I am currently 148 years old. My father is far older.”

  “...And?”

  “You’re... eighteen, Lady… Ashy. There is no way that’s going to go well, and even more than that, we are vampires. We do not feel romance in that way. It’s not about love with us; it’s about power and control.”

  “...Okay, this is weird.”

  “Ashley Hart. I am advising you as a friend not to pursue this. The fact you’ve come to me is a good sign for your intelligence, but my father is more likely to use your… lack of social abilities to his advantage. The last thing you want to be is enthralled.”

  “I can’t be—”

  “Love and devotion is another form of enthrallment. I understand your kind can’t be affected by us, trigger our bloodthirst, or anything akin, but… Father’s last wife was a countess. That was where the money came from. After they had drained her finances, Father had her killed.”

  Ophelia’s words were blunt, dry, and lacked any grace. It felt like listening to one of my lecturers talk about a historical event, except I didn’t have to force myself to pay attention. “...Okay, noted, Ophelia. But like…”

  She tilted her head up to expose her neck. “This is not what people who love do. That is the fate that awaited Countess Hawthorne two hundred years ago.”

  My eyes narrowed automatically. I heard the Winter Wind of my symphony, and saw the world go gray. I could immediately tell Ophelia was a vampire, outside of the fact that she had explicitly told me. I could tell there were four more vampires underneath in the other quarters, of lesser strength and “windiness” than Ophelia.

  But her collar seemed to call to me. I licked my lips as my eyes flashed red.

  My hand rose up, and Ophelia flinched. She didn’t back away, but I could feel the uneasiness to her—it was the sensation of the wind dying down, and the cold around her body picking up.

  I missed the sound of my insects.

  I shook that thought away and raised my hand. The winter storm of her collar was on a different “tone” than my own magic, but it wasn’t hard to find.

  My fingers opened up, and my voice became like maggots and ash.

  “Ila’ki vook Rhyvest...”

  (By my command.)

  The two storms came together and then met at the same intensity. The room fogged in ice and snow, and the candlelights that illuminated it flickered out. Green light poured from the collar and came to my hand.

  I put it into a glass bottle.

  I stared at the notification, eyes wide, then stared at the green soul resting in the bottle. Ophelia hesitantly went up to touch her neck, then pulled on the metal collar.

  She ripped it off her throat, breaking it against her skin and not even leaving a bruise. A warm smile formed on her face, unguarded and truly genuine. “...Thank you, [Vampyre],” she said quietly. “I am in your service. Your will is my—”

  “Yeah, I’d rather form a contract than whatever this is…” I cut her off, glancing to the side. That caused Ophelia to frown.

  “Have I done something that does not make me a good ser—”

  “I... don’t deal in slaves or servants.” I looked at the soul in the bottle and sighed, handing it to Ophelia. “Get rid of this.”

  “Your wish is my command, mis—”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “And stop that. We’re friends.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “You’re also messing with me, aren’t you?”

  “No, mistress.”

  “Okay, that is worse. Ophelia, stop. I came here to ask for your help, not to, uh… free you and then enslave you? I’m not even a [Vampyre]... I don’t think I want to be one.”

  She blinked at me, her lips pouting. “If it’s about the earlier conversation, I am sure I can talk to Father and tell him to treat you—”

  “No! I don’t want a servant. I would rather work with you as an equal!”

  “I am unable to make a contract. I am not a mortal like you are, yet. I’d have to become a [Vampire Lord].”

  “...And to do that, we’d have to kill your father.”

  “Are you offering?”

  “No… I’m right now just here to…”

  “Explore the world and get places for the blight, I understand, Mi—Ashy.”

  I frowned again, crossing my arms. This was exceptionally weird for me. “I’m going to change the topic—so how do we do this, do you become a bat or do I become a bat?”

  “I was thinking we should just go for a carriage ride and stop around.”

  “Wouldn’t that take forever?”

  “...Did you think you’re going to see fifty different locations in one night? I’m not even sure what your ‘astral realm’ considers a zone.”

  My fingers squeezed against my forearms as she spoke. She had a point. I was thinking it’d be easy to see, but I didn’t know the answer to either.

  “I see.”

  Ophelia nodded and went to the closet. “As requested, I have gotten you new dresses.” She opened the door, and inside were exactly ten dresses.

  “Oh! Wow, these are so beautiful…” I began, my hand touching the fabric on the red one first. It was a long dress with sequins and gems, with a golden waistline that worked like a belt.

  Ophelia, however, took out another one, looking more like rough linen with leather attachments. “May I recommend this for travel, Ashy?” Her voice was still too formal, and her way of speaking made Ashy sound like a “mistress” to my inner ear.

  “Yeah… that would make more sense. But, Ophelia… I don’t want to...”

  “Flowers-by-the-River,” she interrupted, pulling the dress from the closet and bringing it toward me. “Strip to your undergarments, Ashy.”

  “Sorry?”

  “You have an aversion to blighting your hometown, correct? Father wanted you to prove your loyalty to him. I… just want to go into town. Flowers-by-the-River. I get my wish, you fulfill your oath to my father, and you have living sources.”

  “You know, you’re taking it incredibly nonchalantly that I just broke your collar. Isn’t Lord Hawthorne going to be, you know, angry?”

  “Yes. I look forward to it,” she grinned. “He’ll be angry at me, not you. You’ll have to deal with the other [Vampyre] who lives in Flowers-by-the-River, but those wars happen all the time.”

  My face paled. “Will yo—”

  Her hand came to my back and undid the strings holding my farmgirl attire. Normally, it’d go to the inventory immediately, but since it was a maid acting for me and I had no replacement, the entire process had to be followed. “Spread your arms, Ashy.”

  “Ophelia, are you going to help me against…”

  “Matthew Dawnwater? Of course. I’ve wanted to kill that bastard for ages now. I am now unbound.” Her words were far different than the… lack of… emotion in her tone. “Spread them.”

  I did as I was told and let my clothing fall to the ground. “Step forward,” she commanded, making me step out of my clothes. “You’ll have to change your undergarments too. And, while I cannot smell you, with the amount of dirt on your skin, I will draw you a bath.”

  “You are treating this entire situation far too casually, Ophelia.”

  “You kill my Father, I kill your [Vampyre]; I get to roam around Flowers-by-the-River, and you are protected by a [Vampire Lord]. I don’t see why I would be worried,” she casually chatted, before turning to the door and saying something outside.

  “Your bath will be drawn shortly. We have enough time before night approaches. The carriage driver will be waiting for us.”

  “Oh! Right. Can you ask one of your servants to bring me some of the dirt outside?”

  “...The dirt?”

  “You said you can walk on the ground since it’s blighted. I wanted to see how much of the ground was blighted to let you do that.”

  “Five percent,” she immediately said.

  “Do you know that?”

  “The [Vampyre] said so.”

  “Yes, that’s the minimum, but do you know that?”

  “...No,” she admitted, and got one of the servants to get me the sample as well. “Anyways, come with me, and I’ll bathe you. Then, we can discuss our travel plans.”

  I sat in a stone tub as hot water was poured atop me. This was far different than the river washing I normally did. Also, Ophelia was watching me and smoothing out my hair. “You had this dyed, Lad—Ashy?”

  “Madeleine did it for me. You can tell?”

  “Yes, you didn’t wash it off properly,” she said, letting her gloved fingers touch my hair and then showing me the pigment on the glove. Her hand took a mixture of egg wash and charcoal to act as the cleanser. It was mixed with honey and chamomile for scent, and she ran it through my scalp.

  “Ophelia, you don’t really seem to care about any of that killing you’re suggesting.”

  “You don’t either,” she said calmly, pulling my hair out, and then pulling out an ivory comb.

  “Right, because I’m not even sure if you’re joking.”

  “I’m not,” she plainly responded, and let the comb’s teeth run through the strands. I could feel her hands softly guide the teeth, and every time it got tangled, she’d pull slowly back and pour oil on it. Her fingers worked on the knots until they dislodged.

  “Then why are you so willing to help me?” I hesitantly asked.

  “Instead of planning to kill you myself?” Her hands released my hair and let the mixture rest against my scalp. She instead took a sponge and mixed it in the egg wash and ash. “Sit up so I can scrape your back.”

  I did so, but the cool air on my cold skin was unpleasant. I was enjoying the hot water far, far more.

  “The way I see it, I was going to have to kill my father anyway. That was the last lesson to become a Lord—there can only be one in a region. So, for me to do that, I need allies, and the other [Vampyre]—whether you decide to be one or not is irrelevant—is far more… capable than you are, Ashy. So I’d have to kill him too.”

  “Okay, then aren’t I a loose end?” I asked, trying to turn around to look at her eyes.

  She held me straight and leaned in. Her cheek pressed against mine, even as her hands rubbed and scraped the filth off my back. “No. Anyone running an enterprise knows that you must have allies, and it’s often during a regime change that the advisors shift. And I would rather have you in my court with your boring, mundane problems than his problems. Either his, Ashy, before you ask.”

  I pouted. She stole my next question! “Okay… so you’re willing to help me because I’m not as big of a threat as the others?”

  “No. Because you’re the same as your maid friend—Ms. Carnwich, is it? And even Madeleine. You’re just trying to escape and survive, not conquer and dominate. I can work with that.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t—”

  “There are exactly forty-one eighteen-year-old women in Oakheart, Lady Hart. Of that, thirty-eight of them went to the same school. The chances that you do not know Ms. Carnwich, who knows Lord Skye, who knows his wife, Lady Bellamine, is nearing 0%. I assume she went to you to figure out a way out of my father’s cruelties?”

  “Yes, she did…” I admitted.

  “I will give you her payments for the month then. How much are you paying her?”

  “Two gold a day?”

  “Sixty gold? Easy,” she idly commented. “I’ll have it paid as Ms. Carnwich’s severance package.”

  “Thanks, Ophelia.” That caused her to pause.

  “...Don’t mention it... Ashy,” she slowly responded, before her attention went back to scrubbing my skin. “What you will mention, however, is if you plan to allow me access to Flowers-by-the-River.”

  “Yeah, sure, why not?” I responded casually.

  “Interesting… so quick. Not caring about the lives there, Lady Hart?”

  “I… didn’t actually consider that.”

  “Will that change your plans?”

  “No,” I admitted, and didn’t feel embarrassed at my answer. I didn’t really care about the people in the other city.

  “Good. Let’s get you dressed, Lady Hart. Then we can take a noble lady to see the sights. I do hope some bandits attack us. I am getting hungry,” Ophelia added idly.

  Two of the servants came in, one holding dirt, and the other bringing in the adventurer’s dress that had been hanging. I looked at the dirt. I didn’t have to fully examine it to see its results.

  “That’s… fifty percent, Ophelia.”

  “...Are you… I will kill that bastard myself.” Ophelia frowned. “No wonder my staff keep getting sick and refusing to work here. Are you able to fix it, Mistress?”

  “...I think I can? But that would definitely draw his attention to me, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, and I will deal with it. After we deal with Father.”

  “Then I think it might need to be left alone until that point. Also, are we committed to killing Lord Hawthorne?”

  “...Yes, we are, Lady Hart. Unless you want to be made lesser and just a concubine.”

  I glared at her, but it didn’t stop her from helping me dress. The clothing was tight and kind of heavy, but the leather patches felt protective.

  “Our carriage awaits, Lady Hart. Are you ready to see the rest of the world?” Ophelia asked.

  “I guess I am. No turning back, huh?”

  “Together,” Ophelia answered. “No turning back.”