The Perfect Servant

Chapter 1

Edgar Allan Poe once said that the death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetic topic in the world. My mother was perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world. She had golden locks that shined under light, and skin the color of a porcelain dolls, and I had heard the men once say she had cheekbones that could cut you. My mother was beautiful, but her death had not been beautiful, and it most certainly had not been poetic.

If it were poetic, I would say something along the lines of 'the day my mother died...' followed by 'I lost all hope,' or, 'a part of me died.' My world doesn't work like that. The day my mother died, I could not even cry over her body. I couldn't cry at all. They let me watch long enough to see her body stop moving, and then I was carted from the room and shoved in a cell.

Not even Poe was that dark.

"Ms. Syla? I've had the feeders line up in the showing hall." I turned to Meena, one of the few slaves who had managed to move up from the showing hall and become a servant for The obsidian. It was a rare and special 'honor' to become a servant of the club. You had to be an especially well-behaved human, and one who had to be at the club for at least a month. That meant that most of the women and men who were servants of the club had 'problems' that turned buyers off from them. For most it was a prior master. Slaves who were returned were not regarded as the best buy you could make, regardless of whatever the reason may be. For Meena, it was because she was anemic.

No vampire wants a slave they can't drink from.

"Well done." I appraised her, motioning towards the wide open doors that lead to the large showing hall. "Please check in with the waiters and make sure they are prepared, the first buyers should be arriving soon." Meena nodded her head, tucking a stray brown hair away from her face. She skittered off to do as I asked, and I turned towards the rest of the room. I stood in the foyer where the buyers would first walk in. Moonlight shined in through the windows in the doors leading outside. I could see the very glint of the half moon shining off of the glass. To freedom. I shook my head, glancing down at my clipboard. Most everything had been prepared for the showing.

"Syla!" I stood perfectly upright, turning rigidly to face Carmichael. The tall, devilishly handsome man was a particularly old vampire who acted far younger than he was. He kept his light blond hair a shaggy mop atop his head, his long bangs often covering his hauntingly violet eyes. The man could have very well been twenty-five when he turned, but from the way he dressed and looked, he appeared nineteen at best. He gave me a roguish smile as he approached, and I kept my eyes locked with his.

There were a few good rules any human followed when dealing with vampires. The first, was that unless explicitly stated, you do not look away when they are looking at you. Vampires are predators, and they feed on weakness. There are those vampires who preferred submission. They liked their slaves to look down at their feet, and only speak when explicitly said to. Unfortunately, those humans never really lasted long.

Most vampires were different. You see, while vampires are predators, and they will absolutely prey on any weakness you show them, they are also...bored. A vampire will live forever if there is no outside force that kills them, and so they tend to get bored easily. They liked humans that presented a challenge, and it tended to work out well for us; we didn't set off their hunting instincts, and we didn't get killed for looking our superiors in the eye.

"Good evening, master. How was your slumber?" The second rule when dealing with vampires, is to always be respectful. Pride has a tendency to come with an immortal life. While some vampires may approve of a little wit, most didn't like when you got too lippy with them. I'd learned that the hard way a long time ago.

"Excellent! I had the most amazing dream! I dreamt that every single one of the new haul sold for their highest prices yet!" Carmichael threw an arm over my shoulder, pressing me up into his side. His fangs proudly protruded from his mouth when he spoke, his grin doing nothing to hide them. I took a split second to stare at the disgusting incisors and then turned my attention back to his eyes.