The Vampire's Crimson Kiss (Editing)

Chapter 21/ The Labyrinth in the Library

It was a few weeks after the Duke's hidden gift. I wore it and the ring every day I could in case the Duke appeared. I found myself missing him. The coven seemed back to normal after the assassination attempt. I was wearing my silver collar and was out of my chambers. I walked down the corridors as proudly as I could, swishing in my long dress. My posture was excellent, and I hardly needed to think about it anymore. My clothing, my hair, my makeup were perfect, and aside from the silver collar, I was little different from the bite-born, so the familiars and most of the coven treated me with respect.

With the amount of venom I consumed with Electra and the others on occasion, my voices had surfaced during the day. The Duke said he loved listening to me, thinking he could almost make out vampiric words and phrases. The tones of some of the voices were more in a vampiric register, but while half awake, I was being used as a trumpet. This also extended the moments I could amuse myself believing I could command animals. When I was young, I dreamt I could not fly but hover off the ground, and I knew that was unreal too. It wasn't very nycha to admit to venom delusions, so I said nothing about it. I never tried to demonstrate to others as the failure before everyone would condemn me as a weasel. If honesty is my judge, I was enjoying the freedom of being free with my voices. The more vampires I met, the more they than tolerated my occasional speaking in tongues. Electra even said they were very nycha.

I found it a huge relief not to have to strain each time I felt the hood of the voices closing over me. Now I would let the voices out and let them chatter, then take over again, feeling more whole and restored than before. The duke had visited a number of times and had begun to insist that I wearing my silver collar in my rooms when he was around. From my readings, it was clear vampires would feed on each other, sharing blood as a carnal ritual of intimate union. While I wore it, he continued to act like a gentleman around me. He had promised to leave me untouched. Perhaps it was the books that I was reading, but I found myself desperate for the touch of his hand on me.

Continuing down the corridor, I greeted my neighbors if they happened to be passing while ignoring the familiars like they did. My campaign with the rest of the coven was beginning to pick up pace. I was told my accent was improving, and my understanding was good enough to follow some conversations I overheard at the night market. I was winning more acquaintances in the coven, but this meant more entertaining and now occasionally visiting others in return.

Today, Mary and I followed my usual route up to the observation deck to watch the sun, as was my right. Mary stood with me, and the two guards, more used to life in the gloom, stood near the elevator. Today we had plans.

After the sunset was over, we continued to the high-floor tower where the Duke's rooms were. The duke's rooms covered several floors, including one that was disused. I had been a quick learner and had practically memorized the books I had begun with. With permission, we were to visit the library to find new books to continue my education. My original intention was to find a book that was a bit more than a catalog of smut.

The Duke's personal library was magnificent and sumptuous space, a monument to centuries of learning and sophistication. The room was large and exuded an atmosphere of intellectual might that was irrefutable as soon as one walked in.

Comfortable chairs upholstered in rich, dark velvet were strategically placed throughout the room, each inviting guests to sit and peruse the countless volumes that lined the walls. A roaring fire crackled in an ornate stone fireplace on one side, casting a warm, flickering glow that added to the cozy ambiance. The firelight danced upon the polished wooden floor, creating a mesmerizing play of shadows and light.

The walls were a sight to behold, adorned with shelves upon shelves of books that stretched from floor to ceiling. The books were neatly organized in graceful wooden arches, their leather-bound spines showcasing a wide array of colors and textures. Each arch held a different collection, from ancient tomes of dark rituals to volumes of classical literature and philosophy. The smell of aged parchment and ink permeated the air, a heady perfume that hinted at untold stories and hidden knowledge.