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"Now that that's settled," the Chatelaine stepped forward. "I've brought along a pint of blood for you, Dare, and some milk for Rabbit. I'm afraid it's all I could spare."
The vampire smiled for the first time since we arrived. Where her fangs should have been there were two empty spaces. I gasped, realizing she was a eunuch."Were you a servant?" I blurted.
Dare froze and raised her chin. "I'm no one's slave, whore." She ran her tongue over the twin voids. "I removed them myself."
My mouth fell open. "Why?"
"Because fangs are symbols of corruption and greed."
"But without them you can't heal as fast or live as long--"
"The strength I lost is offset by being able to stand proudly in the sun with my human comrades."
I had no idea how to respond to the fervor in her tone. I'd known many vampire servants over the years who'd had their fangs forcibly removed to keep them weaker than their masters. The idea of someone doing that to themselves was unfathomable.
Dismissing me, Dare bowed and kissed the Chatelaine's fingers before taking the gifts from her. "Thank you, Sister." She tossed the small bladder of milk at a lanky boy--the one the Chatelaine called "Rabbit"-- who looked no older than twelve. He had a mop of black hair on his head and was so thin, his collarbones jutted from his chest like twin blades. He shot the Sister a dimpled grin that lit up the dark room and scuttled away into the corner with Dare to feast on the meager buffet.
"I must be off now," the sister said. "Six--" At my frown, she corrected herself "--I mean, Carmina ... it's been a pleasure." She pressed something into my hand.>The man came forward into the light of the Chatelaine's torch. When his features came into view, I gasped and stumbled back into the nun. Scars webbed across his face like a mask of wax. His ruined mouth twisted into what I guessed was supposed to be a scowl. "So you're the infamous traitor?" He sniffed and jerked away like he'd smelled something foul on me. "The Troika's whore."
"Icarus." Each of the three syllables were weighed down with censure from the Chatelaine. "She's a fugitive. And she has information that could help the cause."
A female stepped forward. Her thin frame contradicted the posture of a warrior. Brown stubble sprouted from her pale scalp. A piercing yellow vampire's gaze raked over my body. "Bullshit. She's a Troika spy."
Sister Agrippa sighed. "No she isn't, Dare. Bringing her here was my idea."
"She just wants you to think that!" the female named Dare spat back.
"If the Troika wanted to use me to defeat the rebels," I shot a pointed look at her threadbare clothes, "don't you think they'd send me to infiltrate one that posed an actual threat?"
She gasped and Icarus's eyes narrowed to sharp slits. Besides me, the nun muttered a curse under her breath. I should have regretted my words, which had been motivated by anger more than logic. But didn't. It sounded a lot like Agrippa wanted me to team up with the rebels, but my only plan was to get as far from the Troika as possible. I braced myself for the return attack, hoping the Chatelaine would step in should it get out of hand. Instead, after a couple of tense seconds, the vamp's lips twitched and a snort escaped her pale lips.
"Fuck you, Traitor."
"Fuck you too, Hemo," I said using the slang humans used for vampires.
Icarus kept his eyes on me while I argued with his second in command. His gaze was assessing, weighing and judging. He found me lacking if the angry twist to his lip was any indication. I met his gaze with an unblinking glare. Finally, he spit on the dirt next to my feet. "She can stay."
The air escaped the room. Sister Agrippa looked as shocked at Dare.
"Icarus--" his vampire friend began, but he shook his head and disappeared back into the room. Over his shoulder he said, "If she steps out of line, we'll just kill her."
As he walked away, I noticed his hair was long enough to cover the back of his neck. Every human captured or born since the Troika took over was blood-typed upon birth and tattooed with their type on the back of their neck. Therefore, all humans under Troika control were required to keep their hair short or shaved completely.
My hair was short because of the regulations, but the back of my neck didn't bear the mark of my blood type. The Troika decided it would look bad on camera. Thank goodness, too, because the AB negative tattoo would be like a bull's eye to any vamp I ran into on the outside.
The vampire and I stared at each other across the threshold. My fingers itched to grab the knife at my ankle, but judging from her haggard appearance she was two seconds from flying into a blood rage. If it came to that I'd be dinner.
"Let me guess, your friends from Camp Vamp call you Six, right, tough girl?" the vampire said with an eye-roll.
"I don't have any friends." Especially none from "Camp Vamp" as she had so charmingly called the barracks masquerading as a school for Troika youth I'd grown up in. "And call me Carmina.”
"Carmina, sure. You heard Icarus. You want to keep breathing? You'll do what we say."
I flicked an angry glance at the Chatelaine for bringing me here in the first place. Grabbing her sleeve, I pulled her a little further down the corridor. "Thanks a lot."
She shrugged. "It's either them or take your chances sneaking past the army waiting for you topside."
"Why did you tell them I have intel?"
