The Mark of Voltaire

Part 1

My head hurt. The cold of so many vampires in one room chilled me to the bone. I don't know how long I had been there. Hours maybe. My head was foggy. Things were slowly coming into focus for me. I could see other humans laying on the floor, hands tied behind their back just like mine. I could hear the sounds of people speaking, and slowly the words came into focus.

"One hundred. That's my final offer," said the sharp voice of a woman a few feet away. She was standing over another human, who was kneeling on the floor. A young man with fluffy brown hair. She was standing with another vampire, who appeared to be holding some sort of ledger.

"Deal," the other vampire said. "He's yours." He yanked the young man to his feet and handed him to the cruel looking woman. She thanked him, and moved out of view. The male vampire moved out of my view again.

"This one is in such poor condition," a different woman's voice said from behind me. "Probably won't survive the night." Won't survive the night? I didn't feel that weak.

"You're always so rough with them, that's why they don't survive the night!" Another woman chided. Just what were these vampires planning to do with me?

"This one isn't for sale," said another voice. This voice was a man's, and it was low and gravelly, and sounded distinctly british.

"Is that so?" asked the second woman.

"Yes," the man said shortly.

"And why ever not?" the first one asked.

"Because I said so," the man responded.

"And who are you to order us around?!" the first woman asked, an edge creeping into her voice. "I'll have you know, my sister Irene and I are the daughters of Ivan Morvant, one of the wealthiest vampire clans. If I wish to purchase this human, I will!"

"Ah, yes. I knew I recognized you," the man said. "Julia Morvant. I've heard tales of your legendary rudeness," he said dryly. "Step aside. As I said, this one isn't for sale."

"If Julia wants to buy them, Julia absolutely will!" the sister, Irene, proclaimed. "You would do well to respect your superiors." the man snorted derisively.

"Superiors?" he chuckled. "You would be hard pressed to find a vampire of higher status than I, Miss. Morvant."

"Oh yeah?" Irene asked testily. "Well I don't recognize you. Just who are you anyway?" there was a pause, and then the man spoke again.

"Voltaire," he growled. The two women fell silent.

"W-we're sorry, we didn't realize it was you," Julia said. "Y-you never come to events like these, and n-no one really knows what you look like so we j-just assumed-"

"Leave!" Voltaire barked, cutting her off. I could hear the two women scurry away. Then he moved into my field of vision. He was tall, with almond shaped eyes and white hair. He looked younger than I was expecting. Somehow, due to the sophistication he carried himself with, I was expecting someone who looked less... well, less like someone my age. He looked maybe 20, although I knew he must have been a lot older. Vampires usually were. He crouched down in front of me, reaching out to lift my chin. I could see the black band of a tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his suit jacket. He was remarkably beautiful. His eyes gazed into mine, their deep red burning into me intensely.

"Do you need help getting to your feet?" he asked softly. It took me a moment to realize he was asking me a question. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Excuse me sir, you cannot be conversing with the merchandise," said the voice of another vampire. Voltaire shot them a look that was pure hatred.

"Find the Morvant girls and ask them who I am, and then tell me I can't be conversing with the merchandise," he spat, the last word dripping with venom. "As far as I'm concerned, this one is mine. I will handle payment later.'' With this, he scooped me up and began walking towards an exit. "These auction houses," he muttered to himself. "Reputable means. Reputable means my ass. These humans are scared. I doubt a single one is here willingly." I don't think he realized I could hear him. I could feel my heart rate quicken. What was going to happen to me? Who was this man? "Do not panic, darling," he murmured, voice much softer than when he had spoken with the Morvant sisters and the salesman. "I do not intend to hurt you. I will explain everything in due time, I promise." somehow, his words almost put me at ease. When we left the room, I felt warmer, and calmer. The overwhelming presence of so many vampires causes an innate fear response to rise up, whether you're in any actual danger or not. Some sort of fear inducing aura. I wasn't calm, but I was less panicked, and my head was less foggy. Voltaire approached a vehicle. It was too dark for me to see what kind, although I'm sure he could see it perfectly. He nodded to someone, and the door was opened. He gently placed me on the seat, before sitting down next to me. The door closed, and the car began to move. The interior was fancy, with dark leather covering the seats, and tinted windows. Due to the darkness outside and the tint of the windows, I couldn't see where we were going.

"If you like, I can untie your hands," Voltaire said. I turned to look at him, uttering the first words I had said since waking up in that sales room.

"Y-yes please," I said, voice barely above a whisper. I turned slightly and allowed him to undo the ropes. When my hands were free, I brought them in front of me, hugging myself as though to stave off a chill.

"Are you cold?" he asked. "I apologize, I do not have a blanket or anything in the car." I shook my head.

"No, I'm fine." I just wanted answers. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"You are probably wondering what's going to happen to you," he began. "Well, I'll begin by telling you what isn't going to happen. You are not going to be hurt. You are not going to be killed. You will reside in my house, assist in a few chores to keep things clean, and live under my protection." This sounded too good to be true. A vampire had bought me, and all he wanted was for me to do a few house chores?

"Y-you're not going to feed from me?" I asked softly.

"Heavens no!" Voltaire exclaimed. "I don't feed from humans. Not directly at least. I receive blood donations from reputable sources. More reputable than the auction house, that is. I do not wish to harm you, of that you can be sure." he fixed the collar of his shirt, momentarily looking away from me. "I wish I could say that you could go home, but you have been marked," he said. "You would be found and returned to the auction house, and I cannot say who would purchase you the next time. But do not worry. I will do everything within my power to protect you, and you shall enjoy every comfort I have to offer."

"W-what do you mean I have been marked?" I asked. He held out a hand, gesturing to mine.

"May I?" he asked. I hesitantly placed my hand in his. He flipped it over, showing me my wrist. He ran his hand over it, and a black tattoo appeared. It was a small circle, about four centimetres from my palm, right over the vein. "This is the mark of the catchers," he said. "It allows them to track your scent far more easily. They place it on every human they catch." I snatched my wrist back, examining the mark closer.

"T-they can track me?!" I exclaimed.

"Yes," Voltaire answered simply. "But I will be placing my mark there when we arrive at my home. It will block their ability to track you so long as you reside within my care. Leave with the intent to never return, and my mark will fade." he reached up and placed a hand on my cheek. "I promise you, you will be safe with me." he whispered. I don't know why, but I believed him.