Bloodwitch (10 page)

“I THINK WE’LL
find out what you are together,” Jaguar answered. “As it happens, I remember being your age, and am of the opinion that a young man’s full potential is rarely obvious at this point in his life.”

Two responses warred in my mind. I wanted to agree with him, and promise that I
did
have value, no matter what Mistress Jeshickah thought she had seen. On the other hand, his words had also challenged one of the most fundamental facts in my knowledge.

“But … vampires don’t age,” I protested. That was an inarguable fact. They didn’t age, and they couldn’t die, so how could Jaguar possibly remember being my age?

“We aren’t
born
vampires,” he replied. “I told you before that my mother was Azteka, though she left my human
father to raise me. Jeshickah chose me, gave me her blood, and made me a vampire centuries ago.”

“Was
she
always a vampire?”

“As far as you and I are concerned, yes,” Jaguar answered. “Rationally, she must have been born something else, but the mistress’s history is another subject that is hazardous to one’s health.”

“I would never—” I broke off when I realized he wasn’t mad at me for asking. I went back to another, safer subject anyway. “Why did your mother give you up?”

He looked at me, his expression suddenly serious. After a quiet moment he said, “That isn’t the question you want to ask.”

I took a deep, shaky breath. Every hint of irreverent humor had left the air. “Why did my mother give
me
up?”

“We don’t know for sure,” he said. “Azteka are strong, but they aren’t immortal, and the world out there is harsh. Your mother may have been hurt or even killed. All we know is that we found you, apparently abandoned, in the woods. Did the pochteca tell you anything when you met her?”

“She was friendly at first,” I said, “but when she realized where I came from, she …” I trailed off, remembering the way the Azteka woman had dragged me toward the market after I said I wanted to go home to Lady Brina and Taro. “Why were they so mean to me?”

“Vance, look around!” Jaguar said, sharply enough that I flinched. “What do you see?”

I obediently examined the hallway, though I wasn’t sure what Jaguar’s point was.

Thick, richly patterned carpet like I had seen throughout the building. White candles flickering in iron holders set into the walls. Magic runes etched discreetly into woodwork.

“You are warm and dry, safe, and have no fear of starvation,” Jaguar said. “Your clothes are new, made of Chinese nankeen and tailored just for you. Take a moment and compare what you have to what you know of life in the outside world. Then
you
tell
me
why they hate you.”

He leaned against the frescoed wall and waited for me to respond.

You were raised with every luxury
, Malachi had told me when I asked about his dance.
You never struggled. Never questioned. Never triumphed, or feared failure. You never hungered, or wondered if you would see tomorrow
.

“You mean,” I ventured, “that I have things other people don’t have. They don’t like me because they’re jealous.” I knew about jealousy, though I had never had much cause to feel it. Lady Brina’s stories of the gods were full of jealousy, and the anger and warfare caused by it.

“That’s part of it. The other part … How to explain? You’re familiar with the serpiente, right? Your friend Calysta
was a snake.” Her name made me flinch, but Jaguar continued as if he hadn’t just poked a raw wound. “Serpiente say they worship freedom. They don’t think anyone should rule anyone else, except their own king. They use Midnight like a cautionary tale, a fable to scare children, but the reality is they
need
us. They use our markets to trade, and our laws to protect them from groups who might otherwise threaten them. They even use us to get rid of criminals who would otherwise be executed, because we can give them a second chance. That’s how Calysta came to us.”

“Calysta killed herself,” I said softly, pointing out the flaw in that logic. What kind of “second chance” had we actually given her?

“Calysta was part of the Obsidian guild once,” Jaguar elaborated. “I gather her suicide was preceded by a visit from Malachi. I don’t know what relationship they had, or what memories seeing him may have brought up.”

Another reason to dislike Malachi—as if I needed another one.

“So the serpiente trade with us, and send criminals to us, but they don’t like us?” I said, trying to understand the bigger picture. I remembered how Hara, the serpiente princess, had acted, and that Malachi had told me she would kill me if she found out who I was.

“They feel that we take away their freedom to live and die as they choose.” Jaguar’s tone was nonjudgmental, as if he were leaving the final decision to me.

“And the Azteka feel the same way?” I asked.

He nodded, and added, “The Azteka homeland is far to the south of here, so we only see their traders—the pochteca. They have had unchallenged magical dominance for a very long time and do not like the fact that Midnight expects them to follow the same rules as everyone else.”

I thought about everyone I had seen in the market. It seemed like a
lot
of people thought the same thing, judging by the looks I had received while waiting for Taro. “If we’re doing the right thing,” I asked, “then why do so many people hate us?”

“Maybe we’re not,” Jaguar answered with a shrug, as if the question were irrelevant. “That’s something you will need to decide for yourself. You could be like Malachi Obsidian. He is welcome in these walls but chooses to live in the woods like an animal instead. He had his reasons to leave, just as I have my reasons to stay. His reasons, and my reasons, and those of people like Brina or the pochteca, may not be
your
reasons. You need to discover those on your own. Now come on. I want to show you something.”

He started walking again, as if the previous conversation had been an inconsequential thing, easily brushed aside. I continued to ponder it while we stopped at my room and he instructed me to put on my heavy outdoor clothing and then led me through the broad front door of the building.

After so many hours inside without a single window, I blinked against the afternoon sunlight. Momentarily
blinded, I tried not to stumble as Jaguar explained, “This is the only door in or out of Midnight. Spells keep my kind from appearing inside the building, so even we must go through this door if we wish to enter.”

A wide path led from the building through the surrounding forest, but Jaguar did not lead us that way. Instead, he guided me down a smaller path, which brought us around the back of the stone edifice known as Midnight proper and to a large wood-and-stone construction.

All around us people were working busily—slaves, judging by the dull colors of their outerwear and the collars wrapping their necks. One was using a shovel to sprinkle gray ash over the path, which was slick with ice. Another was leading a beautiful horse.

The slave paused and half bowed, showing respect without relinquishing the bridle. I had seen horses in Lady Brina’s paintings, but I had never realized they were so
big
! This one was a ruddy chestnut brown, with a sprinkling of white like snowflakes across its flanks.

“That’s Dika,” Jaguar said. At first I thought he was introducing me to the slave, but then I realized he was talking about the horse. “Jeshickah’s Palouse lines are her pride and joy. Welcome to the stables, Vance. Lead the way, Felix,” he added, prompting the slave leading Dika to continue escorting his charge inside.

“Felix is the stable marshal,” Jaguar explained, “which makes him the highest-ranking slave in Midnight. He has
permission to speak freely at any time and even give instructions to my kind or yours, when it is necessary for the performance of his duties.” With a shake of his head, Jaguar added, “As you have probably gathered, every beast here is more precious to Jeshickah than you or I. Fortunately, they need exercise and company to stay healthy, so Jeshickah has given me permission to teach you to ride.”

“Me?”
I squeaked. Between my awe at just standing before these beautiful creatures and Jaguar’s very clear description of Mistress Jeshickah’s fondness for them, I hardly dared breathe in their presence.

“You don’t want to spend your whole life at Midnight proper,” Jaguar added. “Learning to ride will give you access to places like the market, or nearby properties like the di’Birgetta estate, should you need to visit there. If your lessons go well, perhaps you could even make it to Kendra’s yuletide ball in a couple days—I see that interests you.”

Sometimes I wished I were less transparent. “Could I really go?” I asked, my excitement almost eclipsing my nerves. Kendra’s ball was
the
event of the year, attended by everyone who mattered in this world. I tried to picture myself among them, not as “little Vance” the quetzal or Lady Brina’s greenhouse boy, but as a fellow guest. Someone Lady Brina might respect.

“Of course, if you choose. I’ll speak to the tailor about having proper apparel made. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Felix!” The slave looked up from his charge.
“Vance here is going to assist you for a while.” To me he added, “Riding is a privilege that must be earned. No one touches Jeshickah’s horses without knowing their proper care. Hard work will also put muscle on your bones and help you grow into your height. The next time Jeshickah sees you, she won’t even recognize the scrawny, fragile child from the di’Birgetta greenhouse.” He patted my shoulder hard enough to make me stumble. “Make us proud, Vance.”

Yes
. That was what I wanted. I would prove to Mistress Jeshickah that she was wrong. Maybe I could even convince Lady Brina that I wasn’t useless clutter.

That was what I held on to as Felix put me through my paces.

He immediately put me to work on Dika, who needed to be dried off and cooled down after her recent ride. Every time I completed a task, he showed me a new one. Once Dika was happily stabled, my work had only just begun.

Weren’t humans supposed to be
weak
compared to shapeshifters? Every slave in the stables seemed to be able to lift more than me and carry their burdens longer. When I paused in the middle of fetching water, trying to catch my breath, one of the slaves noticed my distress and took the heavy buckets from me with ease.

No wonder Mistress Jeshickah thought so little of me.

If Jaguar meant the day to be humbling, he succeeded, but I was determined to rise to the challenge. In the greenhouse
I had never encountered a task that wasn’t easy for me. Here, I had something to prove—
myself
.

At the end of the day, Felix assigned a slave to help me back to my room. I was so tired I could barely see straight, but I forced myself to bathe anyway. Mistress Jeshickah did not tolerate filth, and a day working in the stables had left me far from pristine. At last I collapsed on the bed, closed my eyes, and disappeared into the void of sleep.

I was alone in the forest, and I had lost the path. It was so dark I couldn’t even see the hand I waved in front of my face. Snow swirled around me, driven by wailing winds
.

As I struggled forward in the darkness, the slushy flakes became needle sharp. They pierced my clothing and my skin as they landed. Rivulets of hot blood trailed down my body, scalding me where they flowed over flesh and hissing when they fell into the snow at my feet
.

My own violent shudder woke me. I jumped to my feet and turned up the lamp, needing light to dispel the darkness of the nightmare. I didn’t know what hour it was, but I knew it would be a long time before I wanted to shut my eyes again.

When I opened the door, Rose looked up from where she had been kneeling just outside.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.

“No,” I answered, “I’m fine. What time is it?”

“Nearly sunrise, sir.”

It had been past midnight when I had returned from the stables. I knew I should sleep more, but I needed to clear that dream from my mind first.

I didn’t want to go outside alone at night, and the walls here were too close for me to feel comfortable in my quetzal form, so I traveled the halls absently, stretching my legs.

Heavy strides took me toward what Jaguar called the west wing. I hoped to see a friendly face but doubted I would. I knew that vampires
could
be awake during the daytime, like Lady Brina when she was desperate to finish a painting, but most of them preferred to fall asleep at sunrise.

“Vance!”

Hearing my name spoken by one of the last voices I expected to hear caused me to whirl about. Malachi was standing in the middle of the hall, his silver hair and mostly white clothing making him stand out like a shining diamond.

“What are
you
doing here?” I demanded, bracing myself. Jaguar had said that Malachi was allowed to be here but that he chose
not
to be.
He had his reasons to leave, just as I have my reasons to stay
. I hadn’t expected—or wanted—to see him again.