Blood Slave

Chapter 1

"You summoned this council to buy a slave?" Lord Merrick scoffs into his goblet. "We could have had this conversation over a comm screen," he points to the shiny surface of a nearby table. Most households by now are equipped with standard communication panels, however, this one is in the heart of the vampire territory and privy to a select few.

No one in the room pays Lord Merrick's comment any heed. All eyes are riveted to the two cloaked Reavers standing to one side of the queen's office chamber. Clearly, the automatons are continuing to evolve beyond even what the Nocturnes predicted because these Reavers are more humanoid than any of the present vampires could remember. It shouldn't have been a surprise that the automatons have found a way to create synthetic skin.

"Seven," corrects the Reaver on the left. Its eyes lock on the vampire lord before its face turns fully in that direction. "We are here to buy seven slaves."

Lord Merrick looks around the room again, noting that everyone present is a senior member of the vampire clans. "How terribly specific," his lips part to show a hint of fangs, "what need do machines have for our slaves, hmm? Did you run out of metal?"

"Do you wish to use their skin? Is that how you've fabricated ways to look like people?" Lady Elaine lifts a jeweled hand to her throat.

Beside her, an heiress sips heated blood from her glass. "Is for status?" the female asks.

"Machines don't care about such things, Camila," Lord Denning's voice carries from where he's leaning next to the unlit hearth. "It's political; they want our secrets, and who better than a handful of our oldest slaves to help them gain even more power over Nocturnes."

There's a moment of silence in the room as the vampires contemplate centuries worth of secrets a slave might acquire.

"We," the second Reaver spoke to Lord Denning's suggestion, "have no interest in Nocturne political dealings."

"You mean as long as we stay inside the nicely drawn boxes you've made for us?" the vampire sneers. He might have said more, but a glint of shimmer from the corner of the room draws everyone's attention.

The vampire queen's gown captures every ray of light in multifaceted prisms; they are carrion rubies, rumored to be sourced only from the bodies of vampires who died in battle. The gems create a rosy glow about her that her skin appears warm to the untrained eye. As she turns away from the sunshine at her window, she dazzles her people anew. "Enough."

"Queen Lucita— "

A hand tipped with ornate ivory claws raises into the air. "You could have procured common slaves from even the basest of markets. It would have allowed you to remain in the shadows you favor, with no one the wiser of your purchase. Which stands to reason the ones you want are not common at all."

"We seek blood slaves," one of the Reavers affirms.

"This is a joke!" Lord Merrick exclaims. "You feed on electricity or some such."

"Blood slaves are not used exclusively for sustenance," one Reaver focuses on him. The other remains looking at the queen. "Nor do your laws require new masters to be vampires."

"You're getting ahead of yourselves," Queen Lucita reaches toward a serving tray on a tall table beside her, and uses one claw to puncture a slice of seasoned raw meat. Red drips down her chin as she chews, and sighs. "It's still warm," she purrs before choosing a second piece. Her stare is hostile when it returns to the Reavers. "The blood slaves are not for sale."

"You have not heard our offer."

The vampire queen lifts a perfectly groomed brow. "Impress me."

"Agree to give us complete ownership of the seven we ask for today, and in three years we will triple your current territory percentage. This will increase your resources exponentially. In addition, we have created a vaccine for those of your people with adverse effects to sunlight. Your scientists would be given it and the tools necessary to make it available for the mass market."

Queen Lucita taps her nails on the edge of the serving tray. "And what nasty delights do you have in store if I refuse?"

The Reavers did not miss a beat. "Neglecting to declare a fourth species during the signing of the peace accords, has consequences. The land we've offered you would be allocated to the survivors. We have made approximate calculations as to what the nymph population could have been if allowed to flourish as the vampire clans and wolf kingdom did. Flight drones are in position to terminate that exact number between the vampire and wolf populations. Your response today will determine if your people become an endangered species."

A furious hiss fills the air, each vampire rising to their feet.

"You dare!" Lord Denning began to loosen his necktie.

"But that was ages ago," Camilla's belligerent whine carries over the other voices. "Why should the youths be held responsible?"

"Your descendants already pay a price," the Reavers spoke up. "As do the wolves prodigy."

"And what's this about giving us more land? Even humans know that the planet is claiming back what's hers. Chunks of the earth are sinking into the sea!" Lord Merrick gestures toward the window behind him. "In three years, who's to say what the state of the earth will be?"

"What is time to an immortal?" is the Reavers' reply. "In three years, your clans will either be spread out comfortably or recovering from eons of lost generations. The choice is yours."

The queen's hand lifts a second time, and again there is instant silence. "Clever bots. You've discovered a way to stop the changes in the earth."

For the first time, the Reavers don't answer her, but her hand is already pointing to the doors they entered from. "Go. The blood slaves are in the next room. You may take them with full ownership, and you will have your three years. We shall see who is endangered when the time comes."