Chapter 4 Vivian

O ctober first, the night of the second bi-annual Culling of the year. Always held on the same date at the same stroke of midnight.

Finally, tonight's the night, and so far, at least, it's going perfectly to plan, and I refuse to let anything tarnish it now. But I'm not going to jinx it just yet; it hasn't truly even begun. My staff has spent the last two weeks preparing my hotel for this very evening, and they did a phenomenal job.

"Sounds great, Harriet. I'll see you shortly," I say, ending the call with Harriet Bailey, one of our council members, as I lean against the cold stone railing of the stairs leading into the Barlowe.

The Barlowe, known for exuding opulence and meeting every dark desire…well, when it comes to interior decor, I mean. The halls, rooms, walls, and soul of the building are carefully dressed in the most delicious shades of red, black, and gold. No expense spared. Although, no expense could have truly been too high for me to afford when this place was built.

Money is such a fickle aspect of this world. You can never have enough, it seems. Your tastes just get richer.

Although, I cannot speak for everyone. I haven't shuddered at the cost of anything for many decades. But I suppose that comes with the territory of being nearly two hundred years old and forever possessing the beauty of a woman only twenty-three years of age.

I have seen a lot in my time, more than I'd like, if I'm being honest. Yet, it is only the beginning of my lifetime. I still have forever to go. Quite literally.

But I don't take my time for granted. I savor every moment possible, especially nights like tonight where all of my hard work comes to fruition.

The High Council exists for the sole purpose of overseeing the Cullings and ensuring that all rules are followed and fairly enforced amongst the vampires. The High Council consists of five members.

Harriet Bailey, thirty-two years old—well, in human-appearing years, or HA, at least. However, she's been thirty-two for the last twelve years.She heads the communication between the lower councils and us, often staying behind the scenes or traveling to the other districts.

Then we have Ava Hart, twenty-nine years old in HA years, which she has been for fifteen years. She is one of the few people in this world I call my friend. She's the one who people go to with concerns and complaints.

Jason Belmoore. Fifty-two HA years old. Seven years as a vampire. He's sweet as sugar and offers a helping hand to anyone in need. He handles our finances and has also auctioneered the last nine Cullings.

Skylar Jane. Eighteen HA years old. She's been eighteen for the last ten years. She's a spitfire who has no issue speaking her mind and reading others' minds. Which is a very valuable skill as our resident sheriff, checking in on the other councils to ensure they are following the rules.

And then there's me. Vivian Barlowe. Twenty-three HA years. I've been twenty-three for the last one hundred and forty birthdays.

My role in the High Council is to observe, oversee, and enforce. I observe the community around us, ensuring that our secret stays a secret, the exception being the humans that participate in the Culling. But they understand the rules of the agreement. If they spread the knowledge of our existence, any money they earn will be taken and they may face more severe consequences. Participating in the Culling is a privilege, one I will quickly revoke to those who don't respect it. I also enforce the rules we have set, dishing out the punishments that are agreed upon by the High Council. Punishing the vampires who have no regard for human life don't deserve my mercy and they don't get it.

Before my twenty-third birthday, I had no idea that the stories of witches, werewolves, and vampires were derived from real life, a lot of them created by the paranormal factions, to hide their truth in plain sight, at least half of it. It's easier to control the narrative if you write it yourself. They filled the stories with lies and superstitions that couldn't have been further from the truth.

Unlike the movies, vampires aren't created through a simple bite. It's far more complicated than that. There is only one way for a human to change and for it to happen, they must be willing.

There is a lot our bite can do. Feeding, sucking blood from the body, is just the beginning. Our fangs possess venom, each vampire creating its own unique strain. If a human is willing to accept our bite, then we simply inject a lose dose of our venom into their system. Enough to get the job done with the least amount of pain.

But once that's administered, the human must die to fully change. Our bodies still work like before. Our heart beats, blood courses through us, and we seem normal. But we're faster, running quicker than the human eye can keep up with. We become insanely strong. Depending on who we were as humans, we may have manifested a gift, although it's incredibly rare.

On my twenty-third birthday, I was attacked by a man who couldn't take no for an answer. I was attending the theater with a few of my friends. After the show, when we were walking home, we were approached by three men who wanted to take us home and have their way with us. We had no interest, and they had no care. At one point during the attack, I became unconscious and when I came to, my friends were dead. At first, I thought I was too, that I was dreaming when a woman swept me into her arms and asked me if I wanted a second chance at life, one that would last for all eternity. I said yes and here I am one hundred and seventy-three years later.

It's weird though. It doesn't seem like I've been around that long. It feels like it was yesterday when I became a vampire. As if I blinked a little too hard and time traveled to this moment. I definitely don't feel that old, that's for sure. I feel like I've lived… maybe eighty years.

But when your body doesn't age and everyone treats you as you appear, it's easy to live that way. Plus, I don't mind the free drinks when I go out and get hit on.

My dress flies behind me from a strong gust of wind, and shivering goose bumps break across my entire body, stretching from my perfectly styled updo to my black pointed heels.

The air is electric tonight, my skin buzzing beneath the glowing stars and moon. I don't know what it is, but I feel… on edge, like I'm mid-gasp, holding my breath and waiting for whatever it is to come.

"Viv! There you are. You've been missing for like a half hour." I spin and glance up, spotting Ava standing outside of the ten-foot-tall arched doors as she begins descending the stairs to the landing I'm on. "I had to make so many executive decisions, and it was terrible. You know I hate making any and every decision. Ever."

A chuckle escapes my lips, disappearing into the dark, foggy night. "I know. I'm sorry. I took a call from Harriet and just got lost in my thoughts, I guess."

She squints and furrows her brows, halting in place. "Is everything alright?"

Nodding, I dismiss the sense of unease in the pit of my stomach and begin to ascend the stairs, the red satin of my gown billowing in the wind. "Everything's great. Are we ready for the arrivals?"

Her eyes darken, and a wicked smile tips one side of her lips up. "They already have begun and ended, and might I add, some of them look extra delicious."

Rolling my eyes, I hook my arm in hers as the double doors of the front entrance are pulled open for us by my staff.

Security is very important. It is especially of the utmost importance tonight. No human other than those invited may attend the Culling. It is a sacred tradition, and our secrets can never become the public's knowledge. That is the most treasured rule.

Glancing at the large clock tower in the center of the foyer, placed perfectly beneath the sky-high ceiling and dangling Victorian chandeliers, I check the time. Eleven fifteen p.m. The main event begins at midnight. But there is still much to do.

The humans have already all arrived, so now we are just waiting for our guests. They'll trickle in over the next half an hour, finding their seats in the auditorium hidden beneath the clock tower. Then, the doors will seal shut, and the night will really begin.

Tapping the head of the microphone, I hear the thumps boom in the speakers of the dim and candle-lit circular room. Standing in the center of the stage, I spin around, looking through the tinted glass into each booth on the other side of the dark pane, where the guests have gathered. If it weren't for my enhanced sight, I doubt I would be able to make out a single face.

Once I have acknowledged everyone on the bottom row, I glance up to the second row of booths and do the same, repeating it once more with the third and final row.

My heart is pounding so hard in my chest I'm afraid it might actually burst right here. I've hosted this Culling since the very first one. I have hunted vamps and killed them for breaking our laws. I have faced fear and death itself and won. But speaking in front of a crowd this large always makes me feel so fragile . I suppose that's the humanity in me, after all.

"Welcome to the Barlowe," I announce, and light, muffled clapping from behind the glass is heard throughout the circular room. "The night is finally upon us, and I know you are all eager to begin. For those of you who are joining us again, welcome back. We are so happy that you are here. For our newbies in the house, I'll explain how this will work." Lifting my pen into the air, I slowly spin around and show all of the booths. "You have each been given a pen with a red button on the top. The press of that button will signify your bid. You can bid as many times as you'd like, but you can only win once."

I continue. "If an individual piques my interest, I will simply press down on this and speak my bid into the tiny microphone embedded in the side of the device." I demonstrate the motion. "Your bid will then be announced by Jason in the soft-spoken speaker system in each of your booths. If another bid is recognized after yours, you will need to bid again at the higher price to stay in the game. Please, if you have any questions, ask the concierge placed outside each of your rooms. Enjoy your night, have fun—" My tone straightens like a line drawing taut, leaving no room for argument. "And please—" I pause. "—remember the rules."

My heels click against the hardwood circle stage as I make my way to the exit and through the door, passing the microphone off to Jason, who will be calling the auction tonight. He, of course, can bid; he will just have to do it simultaneously. But he's not new to this; he's done it for the last five years.

"Wonderfully done, Vivian," Jason praises as I push open the door into the hallway with a smile on my face.

"Thank you." I grin, stepping through the threshold of the door and making my way to my booth, the one I share with the rest of the High Council.

Ava lightly claps for me as I enter, pride etched in every pore of her perfectly smooth skin. "You did amazing, babes. Seriously."

"Thank you," I coo, sitting down in the empty velvet chair next to hers. "I don't know why I still get so nervous."

"Because public speaking is fucking terrifying." She laughs, and I join in. Our laughter immediately dims when the first human steps onto the stage with a smile and a wave.

He's adorable. Messy brown hair. Looks like he's maybe in his late twenties. He's a cutie. Someone is certainly going to snatch him right up.

He does a fun twirl with a happy grin on his lips. None of them are required to do anything when they come onstage. There is even an option of a chair if they simply want to sit while the auction takes place. Or they can share a talent, a story, information about themselves, or whatever they desire. It's completely up to them.

It just gives us a little insight into who they are, what they want out of this experience, and depending on what the vamp's interests are, that may sway them one way or another to place a bid.

Jason introduces our first human from the card he filled out when he arrived tonight. "This is Alex. He's twenty-eight years old. He loves to play basketball in his free time and listen to country music. He prefers to date women but has no preference on age or ethnicity."

This earns a few cheers as well as a few boos, which I can't help but giggle at. I'm sure there is someone in here who would love to take Alex home.

Jason continues. "He has type B positive blood and is looking to make this experience a romantic one to remember."

There is no starting bid set, but it is kind of an unwritten rule that you bid high, knowing that your donation is seen by the High Council, and our favor goes a long way in this world. There are lower-level auctions held for vamps of lower income, also overseen by their local councils, all held in different districts on the same night.

Mine, however, is for the filthy rich and wealthy. If you want to participate here, you have to be prepared to dish out hundreds of thousands in the course of an evening to the council and the selected human.

Jason's microphone only plays in the booths; the humans can never hear what he says. We like to keep it that way so there doesn't become a sense of competition to them on who can earn the highest bid. There's enough gossip in the vampire world when it comes to the Culling without adding the human gossip in.

Soft instrumental music lightly sounds in our booth, seeping through the glass of the stage. We play the music to help keep them relaxed and to cancel out any potential noise from us.

The first bid is announced over the speaker, pulling me from my thoughts. "We have five thousand from Juliet."

If there are ever duplicate named attendees, they are addressed by first and last initial. If by chance those are the same, then the full name is read.

"Six thousand for Holland. Do we have seven thousand?"

Jason pauses, waiting for another bid.

"Going once. Going twice. Alex goes to Holland."

We clap, even though only the booths directly beside us can hear. But it's tradition, after all.

Six thousand isn't bad for the first bid. Typically, people hold off bidding at all, wanting to see who the options are first. And thankfully, there's a written rule about the amount that goes to the human.

The vampire's bidding amount is a donation to the local council to use for the good of their community. The bidding amount is never known by the human. The money they receive comes from the vampire themselves, amounting to a minimum of one hundred thousand dollars. They can give as much as they want, but it has to at least meet that requirement.

There are no secrets during the Culling between the vampires and the humans. We both know what we are here for and what benefits exist for both parties.

Vampires can participate in tonight's event, or they can choose a human on their own outside of the Culling, but the arrangement must still be reported to the council by October third, two days following our auction.

For the past one hundred and thirteen years, I have done it that way. I choose someone in need of the funds, and I arrange it outside of the auction, keeping my deals private from wandering, malicious eyes that tend to follow me.

As one of the founding members of the High Council, it comes with its advantages and disadvantages. One of the disadvantages being that everyone else wants to know who I feed off.

They want to target those people for themselves, discover why I choose them, and to be frank, my favor puts them at risk. Not just at risk from the vampires who follow the rules but from the ones who don't, especially from them.

My bloodlings don't even enter my home; they haven't for many, many years. Instead, I meet them at various locations during feeding weeks, never the same place twice. Our arrangement is strictly business. No talking. No getting to know one another. I drink, I leave.

Maybe I overestimate my own importance, but I'd rather that than put the human in harm's way for doing me a favor.

The next individual is brought out onstage, a pretty brunette woman. Jason reads her card, and within moments, her bidding is over, and she is replaced by the next human. This cycle repeats itself over and over as a new potential bloodling is introduced and won in the auction by a vampire.

The next hour goes by in a blur of bids and celebrations of pairings. Human after human.

No one piques my interest, although even if they had, I wouldn't have bid. I don't participate in the Cullings. I never have. It's too dangerous for the human.

They may be under my protection for the two-week stay. No one would dare touch them while they were mine. But afterward, when they went back to their normal life, I wouldn't be able to save them from the dangers that would follow. And I know from experience that they would.

Sitting up in my chair, I set my empty wineglass down and anticipate the arrival of the next human to the stage.

The back of my neck tingles, and a shiver runs down my spine as I take a deep breath, every fiber of my being recognizing the delicious scent the second it breaches my nose.

It's intoxicating. Invigorating. It makes every nerve in my body stand on end, begging to be touched. My shoulders shimmy as a shiver runs through them, remembering last night and the hot man behind the curtain.

God, the way he looked at me, the way he touched me…it was like he saw deep inside of me, down to the core. He saw the loneliness, the fire, the rage, every part of me, and pinned me against the wall anyway.

I haven't felt anything like that…ever. I've had my fair share of romance over the years and thoroughly enjoyed my time. When you don't need sleep or to regain your stamina, the options are endless, and I explored almost all of them. Aside from spending time with my vampire friends, I stick to the shadows and the confines of my home.

Last night was unexpected. I should have left him alone, but I couldn't help it. Something deep within me called out to him. I was drawn to him, desperately needing to discover more. Being with him was like touching a live wire, and my entire being jolted back to life. And fuck, I want to feel it again. I was hoping to find him after tonight. I was going to search this entire city, looking for his scent. Every building, every street, every alley. But he found me first.

And in the worst possible place.

Did he know what I was last night when he kissed me? Did he come here searching for me?

"This is Greyson. He loves to play the piano in his spare time and is currently studying finance at the University of Saint Eldritch. He has O negative blood type. He prefers to date women."

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck!

"Right out of the gate, we have a bid of five thousand to Claire."

"A bid of seven thousand to Sandra."

"Eight thousand to Samantha. We've got a popular start for Greyson. Is anyone else interested? Oh, wait a second…ten thousand back to Claire."

They continue to bid back and forth until it's up to eighty thousand. My palms are sweating as I hear a woman's name announced with each new bid that isn't my own.

Claire. Sandra. Samantha. It doesn't matter what their names are, they can't have him. My heart is racing, beating in my chest with vigor as I try to talk myself out of what I'm doing.

But it's too late.

Wrapping my sweating fingers around the pen, I lift my thumb, hovering it above the button, take a deep breath, and state my claim, one no one else in this building can come close to competing with. "One million dollars."

The entire building falls completely silent as my bid is announced through the speakers. But that silence is short-lived as every vampire in the vicinity gasps at my participation.

They know as well as I do that I haven't participated in the Culling for decades. My decision may have been hasty and reckless, but I don't care.

The only thing I care about right now is him . And there is no chance in hell someone else is going to bring him home. You're mine, Greyson. Mine.