Forsaken Blood

- VOID -

The cell was cold, quiet and dull. There was nothing for Layla to do except wallow in her own misery. Distant footsteps echoed through the ancient halls reminding her of just how desolate she truly was.

She paced up and down the tiny room, shook the door, and desperately looked for a way out, a sign, anything. Hopelessness fell on her and she fell back onto the aged mattress creating a cloud of dust that shot into the air.

The hours felt like days slowly passing and her anxiety was at breaking point. She had so much time now to ponder everything, to doubt all her choices. Had she made the right decision to come here? She wanted to meet her fate and discover the truth behind the cards. Maybe Sophie was right, maybe you can't outrun fate. Could it be true? All paths lead to the same end?

Was I destined to die at 18?...

The scene of her mother's dead body came to Layla like she was living it all over again. She ached at the loss. She would never see her again. Not even a chance to say goodbye. Guilt consumed her and shattered whatever was left of her severed heart. Her mother was now nothing but a cherished memory.

If only I wasn't thinking of myself she would still be alive...

The jingling of keys snapped Layla back to the present moment and she listened to the clicking of an ancient lock. The door slowly creaked open and there stood a man dressed in a tailored black-on-black suit. His mousy brown hair was slicked back and fierce black eyes bore down on her. But he looked relaxed as he stood tall with his hands in his pockets.

He slid his hands from his pockets and gracefully glided across the room to her. He grasped her hand with a gentle delicacy and lifted her up. His dark eyes swallowed her whole and curiously looked her up and down as though he had never seen a woman before. It sent a strange feeling to Layla and a sudden calmness came over her.

His eyes met hers and with a confident smile he began to speak quietly, "you seem to have found yourself on the wrong side of the river. Miss...?"

She was hesitant to answer but knew she had been left with no choice. "Layla, Layla Sinclair."

"You may call me Kane, Miss Sinclair. Please, follow me," he said.

She followed slowly behind him and noticed that his posture was that of a different upbringing. She thought that his walk looked like that of an aristocrat.

She followed him up the long grey hallway and ended up in an enormous room lit by crystal chandeliers. A flickering fire crackled in a fireplace that warmed the chamber and she noticed that the fine decorations were dominated by crimson and black colorings. Gothic and Baroque styles were mingled in beautiful silk rugs, ornate couches, large wrought-iron candelabras and an intricately carved dark oak table that was placed in the centre.

Is this where they live...

Layla was told to sit and wait and she felt a sense of nostalgia wash over her. She couldn't understand it and wondered if she had been here before.

Kane returned a few moments later, "Miss Sinclair, he is ready for you. Please follow me."

Who was ready for me?... she suddenly thought.

Her stomach knotted itself and her breathing went shallow.

Is this the end of the road?...

Kane led her to another room toward the end of another hallway.

"Dimitry," he said, talking to someone in the next room, "this is Layla Sinclair, the one who was spoken of."

A silent reply led Kane to open the door wide and usher Layla in. Her eyes immediately found the enormous roaring marble fireplace. It boggled her mind in its size and beauty as she noticed the various styles of baroque couches and chairs that lay around it. Everything felt as though it belonged in another world, as though she had stepped into an 18th-century gentleman's smoking lounge.

Just at that moment a high-back leather swivel chair slowly turned around and Layla met her host, Dimitry.

"One so young such as yourself... wondering around in the lands of the damned... doesn't seem wise to me, Miss Sinclair." He said with a heavy Russian accent.

Dimitry had a noble look to him, with his chocolate brown hair pulled back into a soft ponytail. His large brown eyes were bordered by dark eyebrows that sat just above his eyelids. He was impeccably dressed in his tailored black suit.

"I can explain," she said under her breath, "I was just..."

"Shhhhh..." Dimitry raised a finger to his mouth and said, "explanations aren't necessary now, my dear."

Layla was in shock, her hands started to tremble.

"Do you know who we are?" Dimitry asked.

Layla was about to blurt out vampires but then the image of Marco came to the forefront of her mind. Maybe if they discovered she came to find Marco, then they would kill him for letting out their secret.

"No, I am sorry, Dimitry. I shouldn't have come, I haven't seen anything. I can go home and not say a word," Layla said while her heart was about to jump out of her chest.

Dimitry recognised her heart beat had risen.

"Oh, I am sorry Miss Sinclair, it is a little late for that. You won't be going anywhere. One might say that you may have just awoken a few of our members' appetites," Dimitry smirked before turning to Kane again, "show Miss Sinclair to her room please."

Kane took Layla by the arm and she suddenly broke his grip.

"My room!?" She screamed, "I have a room, and it's not here! You can't keep me here! This is kidnapping and you will pay for this." Layla shrugged her arm away from Kane and yelled at Dimitry.

Dimitry's eyes widened and ears drew back as he let out a thundering growl and lunged toward her with such strength that it sent vibrations through Layla's entire body. At that moment she felt a glimpse of his power and dared not say another word.