After Daybreak

“Their way isn’t practical on a large scale.”

“I think it is.”

“The Council will never go for it. VampHu, the walled cities, they are here to stay.”

“We’ll see,” I murmur.

Chapter 9

The sky has turned from pitch black to shades of blue, signaling the sun’s rise. It’s a familiar color to me. How many nights have I seen it, waiting on the balcony for my parents to come home from Valentine Manor? I always held my breath when I saw the carriage coming down the street, heading home.

Now, I hold my breath again. Through the fading shadows, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I’ve only ever heard of this place, never seen a picture. The tallest tower looks as though it could pierce the moon and make it rain blood across the gray city. A place made like this, of stone and mortar, of towers and walls, would take decades if not centuries to build. Yet it’s been completed in only a few years. And as we approach along the road, which has turned from mere dirt and gravel to deeply inset cobblestone, I see how this monolithic city was made. Those who crafted the stone march across the fields, an exhausted race of enslaved Lessers. Dawn is approaching, and their slumped shoulders and dragging feet indicate a need for blood. But where is it? This is the capital, New Vampiria. Shouldn’t it be the most affluent of all?

Then, as we draw closer to the wall, my expectations of a Victorian era reborn are quickly dashed. The wall isn’t a wall at all, but merely the outcropped buildings of the city, small cottages made of ill-fitted stone. Is that where the Lessers live?

In the blink of an eye we’re inside the city itself, the road turning into a street that shoots straight to the massive tower in the center. On all sides we’re surrounded by gray buildings, weathered far beyond what should only have been their short life. Trash litters the street, nothing like the clean upkeep of the Valentine house that I’d expected. Instead of well-dressed vampires, the envy of the Lessers that surround Denver, I see bedraggled vampires looking at our car as though it may offer hope in this place. When we zoom past them, their stares continue to be reflected in our mirrors.

“Not what you expected?” Victor asks, my silence telling him everything.

“It looks . . .”

I struggle to find the words, so Victor does it for me. “Pathetic.”

“Yeah. Not at all like I’d imagined. I mean, it’s the vampire capital. Where’s the grace and elegance? Where’s the spoils from the war that they won?”

“When we talk to the Council, you’ll see why some of them consider the war a defeat instead of a victory.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say, angry that the vampires would be so arrogant that after nearly wiping humanity off the map they claim it wasn’t enough. Did the VampHu, which my father helped create, not go far enough in giving the vampires everything they wanted?

“Look around you, Dawn,” Victor says. “The world of isolated, walled cities is a strange one for humans. But a world running rampant with Lessers is stranger still for vampires. Now you’ll see that our grip on humanity is not as strong as we’d like you to believe.”

We pass under arches that connect buildings, walkways that act as tendons bringing the city together. But even from here, at this speed, I can see the cracks forming.

Victor turns down a street, away from the tower in the center.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“We arrived too late to see the Council until tonight. They’ll need to know of my arrival in the city first. It’s been a long time since a Valentine has sat at the table. My father was the patriarch, but he remained on his throne at Valentine Manor. He hated this place.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t like what they were trying to do. He thought the Old Families shouldn’t attempt to create human- like cities. I never agreed with him on things, but I did on that point. The heads of the Old Families live here, but it’s like they’re strangers in their own land. We were never meant to be like this. We were always meant to be in the shadows. Now that we’re in control, we don’t know how to be.”

“Wow.”

“That’s why I’m afraid of Sin,” Victor says. “He wants control. He wants power. And I think he knows exactly how to keep it.”

Victor slows to a stop outside a three-story building. Nothing unique about it. It could easily be mistaken for one of the many that we passed. I remember what Murdoch Valentine once said to me: “We vampires have never had imaginations.” I can see that now. Every building looks as though it was cast from the same mold, thought of by the same designer. But Victor must know this is the right spot as he gets out of the car.

“Should I be worried?” I ask. “I mean, the Lessers here look starved.”

“No,” Victor says. “The fact that you’re with me signals to them that you’re my . . . companion.”

“I have a feeling that means something else in the vampire world.”

“It does, yes. It translates into: You’re for me. Not for them. Nothing else needs to be said.”

I hope he’s right.

Richard and Faith climb out of the backseat and glance around.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Richard says. “It’s worse than I remembered.”

“New Vampiria has always lacked charm,” Faith says. “It’s the reason I’ve avoided it for so long.”

We open the trunk, gather our bags, and follow Victor through a wooden door, half eaten away by rain and rot.

The inside has the same glow of oil and gas lamps that haunted Valentine Manor. It looks like something that was made out of necessity and desperation. None of the tables really match; there’s no paint, simply the natural wood tones and textures.

Behind the front desk a vampire, clearly a Lesser, stands up. “Ah, Mr. Valentine. Oh, I do beg your pardon, Lord Valentine. Lady Faith, Mr. Carrollton. It’s a pleasure to have you all again gracing our humble hotel.”

“Thank you, Louis. We’d never dream of staying anywhere else. And please, call me Victor.”

“I’m afraid my manners would never allow such a thing.” Apparently his manners don’t extend to humans because he gives me a once-over as though I’m something he’d scrape off the bottom of his shoe. It’s obvious that, like Xavier, he considers me a blood diva. “How many rooms shall it be?”

“Just one. Your largest.”

“Straightaway, sir.”

When Louis takes the key off the rack, it becomes the only one missing; all the others hang silently. We’re the only guests staying here. And judging by the dust that’s gathered on those keys, we may be the first guests for some time.

We head up two flights of stairs, each board creaking and threatening to give way. The top floor is divided into two suites and we take the one on the right. Louis opens the door for us, gives Victor the key, and Victor passes him a very large envelope, which I suspect is filled with a different kind of payment. Blood. The only currency a vampire really needs. It’s obviously much more than Louis normally charges and he tries to give it back, but Victor won’t hear of it and practically pushes him out of the room to prevent any more protesting.

After we turn on all the lamps, we see that the suite is, much like the rest of the hotel, humble, as Louis put it. Brass fixtures on the walls and in the bathroom a giant bathtub with copper lion’s feet. The windows in the main room are covered by thick curtains, closed against the encroaching sun. The bedrooms, however, are completely windowless; probably a wise idea for a hotel catering to those who scorch in the sun.

“We’ll sleep through the day,” Victor says. “This evening we’ll meet with the Council.”

“Come on, Dawn,” Faith says, and strolls casually toward one of the bedrooms.