Chapter 1: The Interview

*VICKY*

Drip, drip, drip…

Blood trickled down onto my face, giving off a deadly alluring aroma. I tried to restrain my desire, but my pupils still slowly turned red.

A thought flashed across my mind. I knew exactly what I needed.

A tranquilizer.

It was the only way to stop my thirst. Every Kindred would carry these bottles with them, but I couldn't find any in my pockets.

Why didn't I bring it? I knew better—it was so important. I sighed. Was my brain getting worse from sleeping too long? Then it striked me: where am I?

I looked down and saw a sturdy, porcelain bathtub. The blood had already reached my ankles. The fragrance was getting really hard to resist. I couldn't hold out anymore. Fangs slowly appeared in my mouth. I had no choice. This was my nature. It was like a jackal seeing rotten meat.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to try and get a hold of my desire for blood. When they opened, they immediately fixated on a cross on the other end of the bath.

A man was trussed up and firmly anchored to it, the blood seeping from his body. Now that I had found the source of the irresistible aroma, and the more it filled my senses, the more I realized I couldn't help but move toward him.

Who was this person? Was he still alive? He was bleeding too much; there was no way a human would've survived this. But still, I couldn't leave him there. I stopped half way; should I call the police or an ambulance first?

A series of questions flew through my mind, but they slowly became more and more blurry, as one obvious one made its way through.

I was a Kindred. I should only be thinking about how to be able to eat a full meal. Rules? To hell with rules. Since he was going to die anyway, it didn't matter if I ate a few mouthfuls.

I crawled up to his neck. The smell of him was intoxicating. I breathed him in—all of his previous fear, dread, and sadness—and bit down hard.

Only, he didn't taste like the salty sweetness I had become accustomed to. Instead he tasted somewhat like…chocolate? Why on Earth would a human—

***

My body jolted as I woke. It had all been a dream.

I licked the roof of my mouth; the chocolate I had eaten before bed still lingered on my tastebuds. I groaned from the bliss I had just awoken from. I knew it would never be possible to taste that delectable flavor again.

It was illegal to take human blood at will in this day and age unless one could form a Blood Bond—the sacred union between a human and a Kindred for eternity.

But finding a human that was willing wasn't that easy. And once found, it was required that the human remain under legal obligation to keep the secret of the Kindred world. If this law was broken, it meant death for both the Kindred and the human.

Every Kindred had unique needs for their Blood Bond. The rules weren't subjective, per say, but it all related to the smell. Only humans whose smell completely matched the Kindred's needs could become their 'mate'. Let me put it this way: the probability of this happening was not much higher than the probability of winning the lottery.

A loud noise came from my stomach. I placed a hand on it; I was starving.

The Kindred law stated that anyone who dared to take human blood, even if it was the spare blood in the hospital, would immediately be sentenced to 100 years of imprisonment. There were stories from those who had broken the law.

From what I've heard, they were thrown into some dark place; so dark that their sight—the ability to see in the pitch black—was rendered useless. They couldn't hear or smell anything. And worst of all, their body was made to be fixed to the wall…unable to move or scream…

No. Forget it. I'd do without. I rolled out of bed and took two bottles of tranquilizers from the fridge. I opened one of them, gulped it, and put the other in my pocket.

According to human legend, Kindred were a group of evil monsters that specialized in kidnapping beautiful girls and sucking them dry. They would also turn people who had been bitten into their own kind. If humans wanted to kill us, they would need sunlight, holy relics, or garlic.

Obviously, they had never actually met one. These stereotypes were all vastly outdated. I opened the curtains, and bright sunlight streamed in. I took a deep breath and basked in its warmth. I loved the sunshine. Night was another story—especially at Hinland—and the girls here were better off not walking outside alone; but in the day…it felt like anything was possible.

After washing up, I habitually turned on a seemingly old radio and the gas stove to prepare breakfast.

I shuffled around the kitchen, gathering the items needed for breakfast. It didn't make a difference—it wouldn't satisfy my true hunger. But mixed with the tranquilizer, it had worked for the past five-hundred-odd years, so until I found my Blood Bond, it would do.

A musical chime sounded on the radio before moving into a monotone, broken male voice.

"Good morning everyone. This is you Kindred traffic report for the New York metropolitan area. Morning rush hour is upon us, so try to avoid densely populated places, and if you must go out, please take tranquilizers in advance..."

The local Kindred broadcast. It was set up in the 1900s to remind Kindred where the most people were every day. Although almost none of the Kindred would drink unbonded blood now, there were always that small percent that took the risk, whether due to misfortune or deviant behavior.

Kindred law stipulated that if a member did not have a mate, he or she must enter a forced slumber every 80 years, using the time to reset their life and odds of being bonded.

However, this came with high risk: when one was sleeping, anyone could discover them and turn them into a Berserker. Or they could be burned. Hibernation was a secret to every Kindred, but it was also dangerous.

I couldn't tell you anymore how many times my life had been reset. I lost count after somewhere around the eighth time.

Whatever.

I didn't care about the Blood Bond. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy life.

After a proficient operation, I made my favorite fried egg and bacon. I even added a cupcake. Today is an important day for me. First, today was my twentieth birthday...well, my 533rd twentieth birthday.

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. I knew what I wanted. I prayed silently to the gods I hoped were above, and blew out the candle before sandwiching the bacon between my fried egg and slowly eating it.

A sense of happiness rose from the bottom of my heart as a result of the food I was devouring.

The second reason was for my interview at Kingsland Hotel to start my career as a chef. It was something I had waited for, for as long as I could remember, and now, it was finally coming true.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

I pulled it out of my pocket. When I turned on the screen, it lit up with the words "interview" written across the front, with the time: 45 minutes?! I still had to get ready and catch the train!

I scarfed down the remainder of my food, and raced to my bedroom to change. Throwing my hair into a sleek bun, I quickly checked my appearance in the mirror. Another myth: the dead can't see their reflection.

But one benefit? No matter how disheveled I appeared to myself, I knew to humans, I looked pulled together and somewhat ethereal

I grabbed my keys and locked the door behind me before racing down the hall of my apartment complex and into the city streets. Kindred of all sorts wandered around, tending to their day to day business, while I weaved in and out of them toward the gates leading to the human limits.

I passed the security check, and pushed for the train station. This would be a hell of a lot faster if only I could engage my speed—but doing so in the human world would only attract attention, risking the wrong kind.

The sound of roaring trains on numerous platforms echoed throughout the station. I looked down at my ticket and then back up at the signs, searching for number 24. It had to be here somewhere. 21…22…23…2—

A loud whirring sound began and the noise of churning wheels boomed through the station.

SHIT!

I picked up my pace and sped toward the train, which was getting progressively louder.

"Wait for me, wait!"

The conductor stopped halfway into the doorframe, and looked in my direction, rolling his eyes.

"One more!" he shouted back into the station, before stepping off to let me by.

I gave him a thankful nod as I showed him my ticket and entered the cabin, moments before the train pulled away from the station. Luckily, I wasn't late after all.

Once I stepped off the train and headed outside, I looked at my watch: ten minutes to spare, with the Kingsland Hotel just around the corner at Platoon Square. I smiled to myself and took a breath. I had to give the other party a perfect impression.

As a new landmark, the Kingsland Hotel was the most luxurious place in Maritiza city. Legend has it that the boss, Leon Kinghtly, was a difficult fellow who had perverse requirements for his menu and the food his staff created. He would taste every new dish personally, and only by conquering his tricky taste buds, could it be officially put out for service.

This was also why Kingsland Hotel could become the new favorite of the upper class.

However, for a Kindred who had lived for more than 500 years, that was nothing. I had met every kind of person imaginable—what was a tight-knit chef in comparison?

Yet, the moment I stepped into the lobby, I began to regret my previous thoughts. The luxury had far exceeded my imagination. I'm not even sure luxurious was the right word. More like immaculacy. Thick, square marble pillars towered around the lobby while modern decorations, coupled with a few neoclassical elements, fused the two conflicting elements together.

I moved throughout the lobby and toward the hostess, who wore a tight black pencil skirt and a long sleeved turtle-neck shirt.

"U-uhm…I'm here for an interview with Leon Kightly…" I stated.

Her eyes scanned me up and down, and then squinted together as she pursed her lips together. Her silence was nerve-wrecking, but I cleared my throat and adjusted my posture, hoping to make myself appear more confident than I actually was.

Instead of responding, the hostess nodded and directed me to follow her. As I admired the surrounding scenery, I was guided to the back kitchen. The longer we walked, the more curious I was about what kind of person Leon would be.

We stopped short of a man in a kitchen jacket, who appeared just as friendly as the woman who dropped me here.

He outstretched his hand and uttered one word: "Resume."

I dug into my coat pocket and pulled out my resume, handing it to the staff member. He glanced it over in eerie silence, and then pointed to a set of chairs before continuing.

"Sit."

I sucked in a breath to re-center myself and sat in the closest available seat. For a hotel, the surroundings were strangely quiet. I could barely hear the sounds of the people moving around in the kitchen.

I took another deep breath. This kind of environment was most likely to make people nervous. I didn't know what I was nervous about: I was a Kindred, it should be the opposite. But yet, here I was.

"Vicky Eaton!"

I jumped at the sudden noise, and then realized what was happening. It was finally my turn. I picked up my tools and walked toward the kitchen.

A man, looking to be in his forties, held my resume in his hand. When I entered, he smoothed his mustache and looked at me skeptically.

"Only 20 years old?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice having a hint of a quiver. "Today is my birthday."

"And you've done all of these jobs?"

He glanced back down at the long list of experiences in disbelief. I even picked the highlights to write. If it weren't for the limited paper, I swore my resume would be as thick as a Bible.

"With your resume, you're more than qualified for other positions with better pay. Why do you want to be a chef?"

I forced an awkward smile. "If I said that I wanted to experience a different life, would you believe me?"

God, what am I saying? Who would believe this bullshit? However, the man laughed with an ugly, missing tooth smile.

"Fair enough. Let's see what you've got, kid. Maybe you'll impress me." He turned and glanced at his assistant. "What do we have left?"

"Half an apple, a pint of milk, a little syrup, and... this half-eaten cake base..."

He looked back at me and shrugged. "Alright, what do you say? Up for the challenge?"

I smiled. This was it—my moment to shine. And I was more ready than he would ever know.