13 Fata Ignotum

Sleek long guns are attached on one side of the ceiling, about two feet away from each other. Their muzzle follows our every move with red lasers pointing at our clothes. One wrong move and these might kill us.

"Will these red dots whatever, can shoot us?" I ask, observing the way the guns move like robots.

Dimitri mutters. "Not if it can, but if it will. Look down Amber, those are dangerous."

"Why is that?" I glance at him. He seems calm yet there is a clear warning in his words.

"They are programmed to shoot if you act suspiciously. The security department takes their job seriously."

"Can they hear us? The security, I mean." I add.

"Every word sweetcakes, so hold out your tongue." I froze, as his cool breath hits my ear when he whispers the last words. He walks away confidently.

We reach the entrance and I marvel at how big the room is. It is like a small arena. There are, all in all, five floors. Each floor is balcony-inspired-like, in a full circle with a huge hole in the middle.

The floors are attached to the wall and are wide and have seats on and railings. The only difference is each floor is equivalent to only one range seat. Then there is a staircase in the middle connecting each floor.

“The first equal is the first circle of seats, followed by the second equal, third equal, the fourth wing, and the top crown. I will be seating at the top crown along with aunt Meredith.” He is gesturing with his hand here and there while describing the whole place.

"Remind me why am I here again?" I start to feel unease. Men and women already occupy most of the seats. Some eyeing us with open curiosity: mostly eyeing me.

He sighs, "You want answers, sweetcakes. Don't mind 'em."

"Geez, it's too cold here," I complain, rubbing my arms. We ascend the stairs to first equal. I choose a seat near the stairs. It is getting colder, or is it just me?

"Here... take it." He takes off his coat and hands it to me.

"What about you?"

"I'll survive." He smiles then lifts his head. "See over there?"

He points at the highest seats where Meredith is talking to a young woman. As if she felt me staring, the woman's eyes meet mine, and her forehead creases, turning her body in my direction. She smiles and waves when she sees Dimitri though.

"Who's the beautiful chick?" I ask, grabbing his coat tighter.

"Mikaela." He raises his hand and smiles at her. “That is where I will be seating.”

"Am I the only one here?" Uneasiness growing on me, noticing the emptiness of seats on this floor. The third and second are occupied, no one's on the fourth wing and only six-person are on the top crown.

"I think so too, it should not be that bad." He assures me. "I will look over you from my seat. I need to go now Amber."

I nod in agreement, staring at his captivating eyes. He was not called ‘the hottest guy in school’ for nothing.

I take my seat and let my eyes travel around to satisfy my curiosity. There is a black stone chair at the center. I am quite surprised that I did not notice it earlier. The seats are made of stones too, the whole staircases, and everything indeed is fantastically crafted into detail.

A bell sounded and I look up to see an aged woman dressed in fluffy attire. She is in the top crown seats. She is beautiful. Even her old age could not hide how beautiful she might have been at her prime.

Her chestnut hair is trimmed short in a fashionable way. Her eyes glimmer, the color of leaves, just like mom.

'Strange. She reminds me of mom.' I whisper, narrowing my eyes. She addresses a speech but her words fell on deaf ears as my attention caught up with Mikaela beside Dimitri.

She is whispering in his ear, maybe some silly jokes. Because he smiles and looks at her.

I think I hear my name being called in the distance.

"Amber Iris."

My head snaps at the same old woman, who seems scolding me with her stern eyes. Talk about being caught not listening firsthand. I did.

"Yes?" I clear my throat as I sat straighter.

"Please seat on the fata ignotum?"

"Fata - ignotum?" I repeat, did I hear her right?

In the corner of my eye, I see Dimitri abruptly standing up in what looks like a protest but the old woman raises her hand to stop him.

"Fata ignotum, Fate of the unknown. Please seat on the black stone chair." She explains, pointing at the black chair in the center.

"But-" I hear Dimitri say, but she intervenes.

"Chief Enforcer Trevor, I always have high regards for you, perhaps you've forgotten the formalities in a court trial?" She states accusingly, raising a brow. "Should I remind you?"

"This is not what we agreed to." He utters. Even at a distance, I can see his expression morphing into anger. His hand balled into a fist.

"Dimitri!" Meredith whisper-yells, shaking her head 'no'.

"You knew?" He shakes his head, looking surprised at her aunt.

"It is the only way." She says seriously, not taking off her eyes at his nephew. She holds his arm as if to stop him.

Dimitri's gaze turns from his aunt, and onto the old woman, then finally at me. From here, I could see the rage in his eyes. He is breathing heavily as well. I have never seen him this angry.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, he is a bit relaxed. He nods at me as if to tell me ‘it is okay.’

I nod back and start to descend the stairs, taking my time in each step. They might order me to sit there but I would do it at my own pace.

I reach the fata ignotum, my hands tracing the now visible patterns etched on it, inscribed in hieroglyphic. It is cold to the touch, like ice, probably the coldest thing in this room in contrast with the heated glares I am getting. Dimitri already went back on his seat, his body tensely forward.

I sit on it straight, trying to look calm with all accusing eyes on me, like I am a criminal on trial. What did I ever do to these people? I am the victim here, with a vampire, hunting me down. Okay-scratch that, with a crazy vampire who thinks I am a lost and found booth for this Ebenezer Dustan Duncan Widric III.

A woman from the second equal descends to the mini-lifted stage, to where I am. She is wearing big thick eyeglasses. Her blonde hair is in a bun and she is impressively dressed in an autumn crisp coat with a white cotton blouse inside. Her pencil-cut skirt is knee-length paired with stockings and 5-inch heels.

She holds a book in her hand and stands beside me. "State your name."

"Amber Iris Walsh Taylor," I say.

"Case in trial?" She asks again, making my eyes squint in confusion.

Dimitri’s words suddenly pass through my mind. ‘You can never enter the doors unless either you are part of the royal council or a vampire in execution.’

In a matter of seconds, my heart beats wild and out of control. I feel my blood drains from my face and a slight headache is forming.