Chapter 58 58
Chapter 58 58
Morning arrived without celebration.
No rooster’s crow, no church bells, only gray light creeping slowly through the gap in the window. I woke first. My head felt light, the wound on my arm had closed completely, leaving only a thin line like a bad memory.
I sat up and looked at Dahlia, still asleep. Her face was peaceful now. No shadow of hunger, no trembling. Just my little sister, who once loved running through the palace gardens, chasing night butterflies.
“We need to be better prepared,” I whispered, mostly to myself.
I stood, took my jacket, slipped a folding knife into my pocket. The money from last night’s work was still there. Not much, but enough for today.
Before leaving, I looked at Dahlia once more.
“I will find a way,” I murmured. “You wait for me.”
The city in the morning was different.
More honest. More brutal. No glittering lights to deceive. Only people with tired eyes, vendors shouting their wares, the smell of warm bread mixed with exhaust fumes.
I walked along the sidewalk, trying to appear ordinary. My steps could not be too light. My gaze could not be too sharp. I imitated humans.
At a street corner, an old woman was sweeping. She glanced at me.
“Do you live around here, dear?” she asked kindly.
I stopped. “I just moved.”
“Oh?” She smiled. “If you are looking for extra work, the market behind there always needs helping hands.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She continued sweeping, as if that small exchange was enough. But for me, it was a reminder. We were no longer princesses of Crimsonveil. We were just two unknown women in a human city.
I continued toward the large market. I did not know exactly what I was seeking, but my instincts moved. A city this big always had a dark side. And in that darkness, there were usually creatures like us.
I entered a narrow alley behind the market. The smell of fish, animal blood, and wet garbage filled the air. For humans, it was disgusting. For vampires, it was the trace of life.
A man in a hat stood near a rusted iron door. He smoked, his eyes scanning everyone who passed.
I stopped in front of him.
“Lost, miss?” he asked.
“I am looking for someone,” I answered carefully.
“Name?”
“I have no name. Only… a need.”
He looked at me more sharply now. Then he gave a thin smile, as if he understood.
“Go in.”
The iron door opened. Stairs led underground. Dim lights. Low music pulsing softly. The smell of metal… and something else. Blood.
I descended the stairs without hesitation.
Below, the room was wide. Many people sat at the bar stools. Some were too pale. Some were too still. Their eyes were not human.
I found them.
My own kind.
A silver-haired woman stood behind the counter. Her eyes were dark red. She looked at me as if weighing my worth.
“New,” she said. Not a question. A conclusion.
I nodded. “Me and my sister.”
“Hungry?”
“Yes.”
She turned toward a large refrigerator behind her. “Nothing here is free. You pay, or you work.”
I pulled the money from my pocket. “This is all I have.”
She considered it briefly. Then she took out a small bottle filled with dark red liquid.
“One bottle. Enough for one night.”
I swallowed. “I need two.”
She shook her head. “Fixed price.”
I looked at the bottle. Then at her.
“If I work,” I said. “How much?”
She gave a small smile. “Smart. Come tonight. We will talk.”
I took the bottle and left. I did not wait for her to change her mind. I did not give my instincts time to doubt. Because I knew chances like this were rare.
When I returned to the room, Dahlia was already awake. She sat on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees.
“You took long,” she said softly.
I lifted the small bottle. “Look.”
Her eyes widened. “That is…?”
I nodded. “Drink only a little.”
She took the bottle with trembling hands. Opened the cap. The scent of pure blood filled the room. She drank slowly. Her face changed instantly. Her breathing steadied. Her shoulders relaxed.
“Thank you,” she said after finishing.
I sat beside her. “Tonight I will work again. But not at the café.”
“Where?”
I looked at her. “A place for us. A safe place. But you cannot come tonight.”
“I can help.”
“No.” My voice was gentle but left no room for argument. “You are still recovering. You stay here. Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone.”
She looked at me. “Sister… be careful.”
I gave a small smile. “I am always careful.”
Night fell again.
And for the first time since we ran away, I did not feel like I was only fleeing. I felt like I was moving toward something.
Maybe safety.
Or a far greater danger.
But whatever it was, I would face it.
For Dahlia.
For our freedom.
And for myself.