Vampire Pet

RUN

Run.

That’s what her head keeps telling her. Run. Run. Run.

Grace is running through the forest.

Her lungs burn. Her thighs burn. Her back is still torn open from the last time Josh used the spiked whip, but she runs anyway because the alternative is a collar and a cage and another master with hands. Branches claw at her face. Her rags snag on thorns and rip. Bare feet slam into thick grass and dirty mud. Each step sends pain up her calf where Master Dean’s knife caught her before she put her own blade through his throat.

Four guards are chasing her.

She hears their boots. Heavy. Matching her pace. Crushing leaves and snapping twigs like they own the forest. They do. Vampires own everything. The trees. The dirt. Her.

But not tonight.

She broke the window in Dean’s study with a chair. Cut her palms to pieces climbing out. She’s been running for an hour. Maybe two. Time gets weird when your blood is on your tongue and your body is screaming.

She reaches a clearing and her legs give out for half a second. That’s all it takes.

They catch up.

She fights.

No silver knife now. She lost it three masters ago. Just hands and teeth and hate. The first guard grabs for her hair. She ducks, drives her fist up into his throat. He gags. She uses his stumble to slam her knee into his groin, then her elbow across his jaw when he doubles over. He goes down.

She fights fights fights fights fights.

The second guard is smarter. He waits until she’s turning and tackles her into the dirt. Air leaves her lungs. He pins her wrists with one hand. His fangs drop. “Stupid little rat,” he spits.

Grace headbutts him. His nose breaks with a wet crunch. He roars and loosens his grip for a second. She twists, gets her legs around his neck, and wrenches. Something pops. He goes limp.

Two down.

The two remaining get angry.

No more playing. No more taking her back for Josh to punish. They want her dead. One grabs her by the fire ginger hair and slams her head into a tree. Bark rips her cheek open. Stars burst behind her eyes. The other grabs her arms and yanks them behind her back until her shoulders scream.

Fangs sink into her neck.

The pain is hot and deep and wrong. She feels her blood leave her in long, greedy pulls. Her knees hit the mud. Her vision goes gray at the edges. The one drinking makes a sound like he’s tasting wine.

She goes limp. Makes her body dead weight. When he adjusts his grip, she moves. She bites. Latches onto his ear and rips sideways. He screams and lets go. She doesn’t stop. She’s on him, fingers in his eyes, thumbs pushing until she feels them give.

The last guard punches her in the ribs. She hears something crack. He’s on her, fangs out, aiming for her throat to finish it.

She passes out.

Night falls in the forest.

She wakes up to being dragged. Silver chains on her wrists and ankles. They burn like acid. Every bump and root on the forest floor sends jolts up her torn back. Mud is in her mouth. Blood is dried on her thigh. The two surviving guards are above her, arguing.

“She killed Mills.”

“Josh is gonna flay us for losing two.”

“Should’ve just staked her in the clearing.”

Josh. The pet master.

Josh isn’t human. Humans are cruel because they’re scared. Vampires are cruel because they’re bored. Josh has been running the East District pet shop for eighty years. He’s got eyes like old ice and a smile that never reaches them. He likes the punishment room. Likes the sound chains make on concrete.

They drag her through the back door of the pet shop before sunrise. Past the cages. Past the humans sleeping in their own filth. Past Emily’s cage. Emily is awake. Her blonde hair is dirty and her face is pale. She sees Grace and her mouth opens in a silent gasp.

They don’t take Grace to her cage.

They take her to the punishment room.

Concrete floor with drains in the middle. Hooks on the walls. Smells like copper and bleach and piss. Josh is already there. He’s tall in a way that isn’t human. Too still. Too graceful. His shirt is crisp and white. No blood on it. There never is.

He holds a whip. Not leather. Metal links with spikes at the end of each tongue. A cat-o-nine-tails built for ripping skin, not discipline.

They hook her chains to the ceiling. Her feet barely brush the floor. Her back is to him. The air is cold on her torn rags.

“Grace,” Josh says. His voice is smooth. Old. Like he’s been practicing sounding calm for a century. “You ran. You killed Master Dean. You killed two of my guards. Do you know how much that costs me?”

She says nothing.

The first lash comes without warning.

Fire explodes across her back. The spikes bite and drag. She hears her skin tear. Blood runs hot down her legs. She locks her jaw so tight her teeth ache.

“Cry,” Josh says. He walks in a slow circle around her. “It’s easier when you cry. The others cry. It’s natural.”

She doesn’t cry.

He flogs her. Deep. Measured. Like he’s painting. Ten lashes. Fifteen. Twenty. She counts. Counting is better than screaming. Her blood hits the concrete and runs toward the drain.

“You can make it stop,” Josh says. He’s not even breathing hard. “Beg me. Call me Master. Tell me you’re sorry for being a bad pet.”

Grace lifts her head. Her neck is shaking with the effort. She looks over her shoulder at him. Her icy blue eyes are wet but not from tears. From hate.

“You can never break me,” she says. Her voice is wrecked. “You can never make me beg or call you master.”

Josh laughs.

The sound is soft and it’s the worst sound in the room. “Not yet,” he says.

He cuts her down. She collapses to her knees on the concrete. Can’t hold herself up. He clips a leash to the collar she never takes off and drags her. Her knees and shins scrape raw on the floor. Out of the punishment room. Through the shop. Past rows of cages.

Humans look away. Nobody meets her eyes. Nobody except Emily.

He throws Grace into her cage. The door slams. The lock clicks.

She waits. Listens. His boots fade down the hall.

Then she sniffles. Tears come hot and angry and she hates them. She scrubs at her face with her wrist. Cleans the blood off her chin with her rag of a shirt.

Josh comes back ten minutes later. He doesn’t enter. Just throws a bowl through the bars. It clatters. Stale bread and dirty water slosh onto the floor.

Grace crawls to it. Picks up the bread. Drinks the water from her cupped hand. Looks at Josh through the bars. Holds the water in her mouth.

Then she spits it at him.

It hits his polished shoe.

Josh snarls. His face changes. The polite mask slips and what’s underneath is old and hungry and insulted. He unlocks the cage in one fast motion. Steps in. Backhands her across the face.

Her head cracks against the bars. She tastes thick metallic blood running through her mouth. She spits it onto the floor.

It’s bright red. Hers.

Josh leaves her there. Locks the cage.

“Feral b***h,” he mutters.

The cage next to hers rattles. Emily. She’s pressed against the bars, blonde hair hanging in her face. Her eyes are big and scared.

“Sorry,” Emily whispers. So quiet Grace almost doesn’t hear it. So quiet the cameras won’t pick it up. So quiet Josh won’t have a reason to flog her too.

Grace doesn’t say it back. Sorry is useless.

Grace stays in the pet shop for about two weeks.

Her back scabs. The scabs crack and bleed when she moves wrong. The silver burns on her wrists turn to thick, shiny scars. She eats the scraps. She drinks the water. She sleeps on the concrete and wakes up every time the lights buzz.

Then the bell rings.

A tall large figure rings the bell and Grace’s ears prick up. It’s a sound she knows. Customers. Money. A new master.

The man enters the pet shop.

Josh greets him with a “Well, welcome.” His voice is different. Lower. Respectful. Josh doesn’t do respectful unless the person that entered is either royalty or high in the vampire world.

Josh adds pleasantries. “My lord, it’s an honor. What pet are you looking for today? We have fresh stock. Boys. Girls. Any temperament you prefer.”

The tall man walks around. Walks around. He doesn’t speak. He just looks. He sees boys in one row, sitting quiet with their heads down. He sees girls in another, some crying, some empty-eyed.

Then he stops at Emily’s cage.

Emily has tears drowning down her face. She knows what being picked means. She’s been sold twice before and returned both times because she’s “too soft.”

The man points. “Her.”

Grace goes cold.

“No,” Grace says. She’s on her feet. Hands on the bars. “Drop her. Pick me instead.”

The man doesn’t answer her. He doesn’t even look at her. He just waves her off like she’s a fly.

Josh unlocks Emily’s cage. “Excellent choice, my lord. She’s gentle. Very biddable.”

Emily is crying so hard she can’t stand. Josh clips a leash to her collar and drags her out. She looks back at Grace. Mouths “sorry” again.

Grace is reminiscing now about how Emily got flogged because they are not meant to talk in the pet shop. Grace was talking to her one night. Just whispering about home. About before. Emily responded small. Just a “yeah.”

Josh heard.

He dragged Emily to the punishment room. Grace heard every lash. Ten. Emily screamed at three. Grace counted and hated herself for it.

Emily was the only person that cared about her in the pet shop. The only one who whispered at night. The only one who shared her bread when Grace couldn’t eat. Grace thought Emily was her only friend.

Now she’s gone. Dragged with a leash. Sold.

Six weeks later, Grace is still in the pet shop.

She’s getting tired of staying there. Tired of the smell. Tired of the concrete. Tired of Josh’s smile. She’s killed six masters and she’s still here.

She remembers how they told them to bathe once a week and pee once in three days. Water is rationed. Privacy doesn’t exist. But they have exceptions for period. Peeing three times a day and bathing twice a week. She had hers last week. Josh watched through the camera to make sure she didn’t “waste water.”

She reminisces about that when the bell rings again.

The door opens.

A tall figure enters. Grace looks up at the figure and he’s tall. About six four. Dark raven hair, thick and a little messy like he doesn’t care. Chiseled jaw. Shaving clean. No beard. He’s really tall. She has to crane her neck to see his face from her cage floor.

He has green mossy eyes.

He looks exactly like the last customer that came into the pet shop. Same height. Same build. Same way of walking like he owns the floor.