The Vampire's Sanguine Servant

Rain played a drumming beat on the large windows shrouded by thick, musty drapes. Lavinia absentmindedly clicked her fingernails, sharp and black, on the table where she sat.

She was trying to match the rhythm of the rain. She was vaguely aware that Ardashir, who called himself ‘the Vampiric King of Persia’, sitting across the long dining table from her, was talking to her. His voice was smooth and slow, his words rolling from him like silk.

He repulsed her. She took a sip from the glass in front of her. Coppery liquid, red as life, made her mouth feel sticky. She hummed and continued to beat the rhythm of the rain with her nails.

“Ma’am,” she started at the voice, which came from the man who seemingly appeared beside her, “can I offer you more.”

He indicated the glass which she now saw was empty. She hadn’t noticed. “Thank you, Matthew,” she brushed some of her loose, black hairs behind her ear as she looked at him, dressed in a vest and his shirtsleeves rolled back, scars covered his forearms and neck, his yellow hair, flecked with grey, was combed back behind his ears, “that would be lovely.”

Matthew smiled and poured more of the red liquid into her glass from a metal decanter that sat over a candle to heat it. “Is there anything else, ma’am?”

She sighed. “No, Matthew, that is all.” He nodded and began making his way to the other end of the table with the decanter, where Ardashir smiled in a predatory manner after being interrupted.

Matthew was a good servant, she admitted, and he enjoyed his work, but he never mastered the art of knowing when to silently serve and anticipate her needs. But his blood tasted very nice, O negative, so she didn’t mind.

“You’ve lost your accent, Liv.” Ardashir shook his empty glass at Matthew. “You sound like one of these Americans now.”

“You haven’t lost yours at all, Ardashir.” She smiled coyly at him. “You still sound like when I met you, the great Ardashir, Vampiric King of the Persians. And I am an American.”

“Do you even remember your mother tongue? Parlez-vous français?” He smirked as Matthew poured blood into his glass. He wasn’t even trying, only using basic French with her.

“Oui, je serais toujours française.” She frowned. “But I’m also American.”

Matthew placed the decanter over the flame and moved to stand in the corner again, waiting to serve.

“And you’re attempting to put me on the defensive.” She looked as if she were in her mid-twenties but she had played this little game of smiles and jabs with him for years, ever since he had ascended to minor nobility in the court of the Prince of the New East.

It was useful to have a solid voice in her corner at court but he was dangerous, and she never forgot that. “What is it that you want, Ardashir?” He opened his mouth to answer but she held up a hand. “Be direct. I’m tired and want you to leave so let’s get this over with, hmm?”

He smiled at her, more a sneer, before draining his glass quickly and speaking. “ Lord Adelan-“

“She’s the Lady Adelaide now,” she cut him off, “and has been for some time.” She took a sip of the warm and thick blood. “And you will show respect for your betters next time.” He frowned.

“Yes,” he sighed, “the…Lady Adelaide… has been causing problems for me. She blocks my import of blood servants.”

“She’s a traditionalist. Catching prey looks better than buying it to most of the court. You know this.” She drained her glass and held it out to the side, Matthew filled it wordlessly.

“Most of those “traditionalists” partake in my services all the same, albeit behind closed doors.” He shook his glass at Matthew. “Here, boy.”

His gaze fell on her again. “All I ask is that you act in both of our interests when I present myself to court.” Lavinia frowned.

Matthew stood to the side respectfully. “Yes, boy?” Ardashir smiled hungrily toward him.

“There is no more, sir. I’m very sorry.” Matthew was sweating as he indicated the empty decanter.

“Do I need to give you permission to get more?” Ardashir spoke quietly.

“That was the amount allocated for tonight. There is no more to get.” Matthew flexed his fingers behind his back absently.

‘Good boy,’ Lavinia thought. ‘Perhaps he deserves a reward later,’ she smirked to herself.

“Ardashir,” she almost whispered it but it was enough.

He needed her support and she was much higher than he in court. “You were talking to me.”

She waved Matthew to the wall. Ardashir frowned and looked at Matthew before returning his gaze to her. There was no sly mirth now.

“How is this in my best interest? I have no skin in the game when it comes to blood servants.” She glanced at Matthew who smiled at her. “I have hunted for every one of mine.”

Ardashir opened his mouth but she began speaking first. “I am going to make a guess and you tell me if it is correct.” She took a sip of blood.

“You needed someone with the power to help you, you knew I have not had a firm stance in court for years and as a result have no dangerous enemies. You thought I would be an easy sell, and I’m willing to bet that I’m not the first to hear this proposal.”

She swirled the blood in her glass, staring into it. “And I suppose you are about to ‘entice’ me with a poor compromise, perhaps even a percentage of your net profit.” She looked up from the glass at him and smiled. “So, was I correct?”

If stares could kill, Ardashir’s would have given her a second death around the middle of her spiel. He was silent, boring holes into her with his glare.

“I thought so.” She pursed her lips. “Matthew, show master Ardashir out.” She rose and Ardashir followed her example. She was pushing six foot one, taller than Ardashir by half a foot.

Matthew softly spoke to Ardashir, gesturing him toward the door. Lavinia let herself sigh in satisfaction and was more than a little pleased with herself.

It was after Matthew and Ardashir had left the room that she heard the strangled cry and something heavy hitting the floor.

Crossing the room quickly, her skirts swishing, she threw open the door and stepped into the hallway. Down the hallway, on the floor, Matthew writhed, blood spreading in a puddle from the marks on his neck.

Ardashir stood in the hallway, and wiped the blood from his mouth.

“Oh, what a mess,” he said levelly to her. “My apologies.”

He turned and began leaving but turned back as if struck by a thought. “Oh! And my lady?”

He paused and smiled as he spoke. “Happy hunting. It’s so hard to find good help these days.” And with that he shut the door, leaving Lavinia in her hall with a now very still Matthew who lay in a pool of blood.

Lavinia exhaled through her nose in fury.

‘The nerve!,’ she thought. She looked down at Matthew.

’He’ll be hard to replace,’ it was a cold thought, Matthew had served her for decades, but there had been others. Others who had been better than he was.

She had a finite amount of blood stored. She would need to find a replacement before that ran out.

’I could mix coconut water into it,’ she reasoned. ’That would make it last a little longer.’

Looking down at Matthew, a thought struck her. She hadn’t been hunting in decades. Would she be able to catch one?

If she couldn’t, she would need to buy one and that was out of the question when Ardashir had ties to every major merchant. Not to mention that it would make her look weak in court. She had worked very hard to dispel any rumors of weakness. This would undo all of it.

“F*ck,” she whispered. She had to formulate a plan to replace Matthew. And she would need to start hunting as soon as possible.