The Servant Trade

***To my readers. I am doing some major revision of this story. My goal is to add depth to the story and characters. The will be triggering content throughout the book, so read with caution. All events are 100% fiction and have no basis in the real world. Feedback is welcome. It is my ultimate goal to create a book that is enjoyable to read. Thank you for investing time in my book.*** Prologue                   Hidden within the midst of modern-day society, there is a world that 95% of the human population doesn’t know exists. All of those stories, the myths, legends, fairytales, and nightmares have a basis in the truth. The monsters of fantasy are as real as your next-door neighbor. It’s quite possible that your next-door neighbor is one of these monsters. That’s right, Mr. and Mrs. Jones could very well be witches, real witches. That doctor that only works third shift in the ER could quite possibly be a vampire.                 Witches and vampires aren’t alone in their existence. Name a “mythological” creature, and chances are it’s real. While the vast majority of humans are oblivious that these things are real, these beings are well aware of human existence. They prey on the human race, but not in the way the legends and myths suggest. The humans that are aware of the full truth fall into three categories. There are the hunters that prey on the supernatural. Then there are humans in places of high authority that work with the supernatural to keep some semblance of peace and ignorance in human societies. Then there are the less fortunate humans. These are the select few that fall prey to the supernatural, with their governments’ help.                 What do the supernatural beings of the world want with humans, one might ask. It’s simple, labor. The government entities profit by looking the other way when human children disappear into the hidden world of the supernatural. There are many ways that vampires, witches, and the like collect and train children to serve them. However, the services required aren’t so varied. Simple to hard labor is the primary reason the supernatural force humans into lives of servitude. Humans are also commonly used for s****l gratification and nourishment for vampires.                 I just happen to be a vampire with a handful of human servants. I bought them from my brood mate, Bethesda. She has been the most successful proprietor of human servants for half a millennium. Her humans start life out as babies that no one wants. When her business began, she acquired orphans that would have lived lives of servitude and abuse in human society. These days she finds them in dumpsters, usually, shortly after birth. She has about a dozen scouts that observe the human world for severe abuse in the homes of human families. If the abuse is severe and the children are young enough, she steps in, kills the parents, and takes the children. In her mind, there are things worse than a life of involuntary servitude. I’ve observed the world for centuries, she might not be too far off.                 I was growing tired of life. Humans were violent and hateful, not all of them, but the ones that were lowered my opinion of the whole species. The “good ones” were grossly abused by the corrupt. They weren’t all aware of the abuse and lived in ignorance. They served human masters in cubicles, restaurants, fields, etc. In short, the lives led by humans unaware of us weren’t that different than our servants’ lives. I woke the last night of my life thinking on these things. I had the “gift” of clairvoyance. It showed me the world would never change, not enough for me to find happiness in it. It was time to say goodbye.                 I have no anger or resentment towards my sire, David Kingston. I was dying when he turned me a thousand years ago. I was young and afraid of death. I was also one of his human servants at the time. It was his practices that led to a majority of vampires keeping human servants. It gave us the ability to hide more effectively from the church that was bent on burning us out of existence, literally. David saved me and loved me. He gave me an indefinite lifespan. I’ve had hundreds of happy and sad years. Now, I’m just tired. There is one more thing I need to do before I greet the sun in the morning. My death will not be easy or painless. It won’t be quick either because I am so old. But I will have eternal sleep. That is all I want, after I see Bethesda one last time.                 I met my sister outside of the house of a human family on her radar. It was the house that was in my last prophetic dream. I didn’t know the details because I didn’t put in the work to decipher the message. Visions of the future don’t play out in one’s mind like a film. They’re enigmatic and needed to be interpreted. If I cared enough, I could have told Bethesda the reason for my message. I didn’t care though. I wouldn’t be here to see the end results.                 I smiled at my beautiful sister. She was just over five feet tall, with wild, red curls falling to her waist. She had full breasts and hips and a slim waist. It was her beauty and red hair that led to her being persecuted thirteen hundred years ago. The Catholics were foolish and believed red hair was an indicator of a witch. I know much better now. David turned her to preserve her beauty, and she hadn’t changed much in thirteen centuries of life.                 “What brings you here, Amelia?” Bethesda asked, she knew me well enough. I didn’t like interacting with humans. I barely interacted with my servants.                 “A dream, what else,” I countered.                 She didn’t ask anymore questions. We were here with a purpose, to save an infant girl from a horrible life. I knew that if Bethesda succeeded and heeded my message, the girl would have a good life. That was all I knew. There was a scream of agony inside the house, followed by the wail of an infant. It was time to help Bethesda with her work. We entered the rundown cape cod. The woman that screamed was weeping pitifully.                 “Shut up!” a man’s voice demanded angrily.                 It was difficult to determine who he was yelling at. The baby screamed from pain and fear. The woman couldn’t scream, she was weak. She continued to weep. There was the sound of a gun going off. The woman quieted, while the man demanded for silence again. The baby continued to scream. Her screams became louder. Bethesda rushed to the source with me close behind.                 The scene in front of us was precisely the reason I no longer wanted to live. The woman, most likely the baby’s mother, was lying face down in a pool of blood. Half of her head was missing because of the bullet the man put through it. If I said that was the worst of it, I’d be lying. It was a shock how the baby had the strength to scream the way she did. The man had his back to us as he hit her repeatedly with a thick, leather belt. There were welts all over her tiny body, with a long cut around her abdomen to her back. She couldn’t be more than seven or eight months old. There was nothing short of a miracle keeping her alive at this point. While I was frozen in horror, Bethesda sprang into action.                 The man started screaming in agony as soon as Bethesda pulled him away from the baby. Her fangs were already in his flesh, draining away his lifeforce. She was furious about how he treated his wife and child and made sure his last moments were filled with torment. She did NOT make his death swift. It felt like an eternity, watching her latched onto his neck, with him struggling in vain to get away. Bethesda was a tiny woman, but she was at least a hundred times stronger than a human. The baby’s wails of pain brought me away from my shock. She still needed to be comforted.                 I picked her up and held her close. I didn’t have Bethesda’s gifts, but I could offer comfort. At least I thought. It hurt her to be touched at all. She continued to scream. I returned her to the sofa she was being beaten on moments before. Removing her clothes told me why it hurt her to be touched. There were deep bruises all over her body. I was sure she had internal bleeding, which was very bad for such a small human. Bethesda threw the man across the house and came to my side.                 “Oh, Beth, we were too late,” I lamented.                 “We just barely made it,” she argued.                 Bethesda picked the little girl up. Her magic had the desired effect. Bethesda had healing magic. I watched as the darkest bruises receded. The baby calmed down and hiccupped. Her watery blue eyes fixated on Bethesda’s face. She smiled and hugged my sister around the neck tightly. Bethesda didn’t discourage the affection, not even the sloppy infant kisses on the cheek.                 “Teach her everything, Beth,” I said. “My dream said it will serve her and us well. This one is special.”                 “How?” Bethesda asked.                 “I don’t know, but it’s vital,” I said.                 “Are you going back into seclusion, or will you help clean up?”                 “Go ahead, I have this covered,” I said.                 Bethesda smiled and promised she would thoroughly educate the girl. Then she was gone. I looked at the two dead adults. I didn’t have to wait for the sun. There was a gas range in the kitchen. I closed the windows and turned on the burners, all of them, blowing out the flames as I went. It would be just as painful but quicker than waiting for the sun to do it. As the house filled with gas, I looked for a lighter or matches. My farewell letter and will was left with my head servant before I left home. My maker would inherit everything, including my servants. He gave me so much; this would be my last gift to him. That and the girl, when she came of age.