Bride

“Vania says you’re not dying.” I’m aiming for rude. Unfortunately, I think I just sound curious.

“I trust that you’re healthy, too.” He smiles faintly. “How have the last seven years treated you?”

There is a beautiful vintage clock behind his head. I watch it tick eight seconds before saying, “Just peachy.”

“Yes?” He gives me a once-over. “You’d better remove them, Misery. Someone might mistake you for a Human.”

He’s referring to my brown contacts. Which I considered taking out in the car, before deciding not to bother. The problem is, there are many other signs that I’ve been living among the Humans, most not so quickly reversible. The fangs I shave to dull points every week, for instance, are unlikely to escape his notice. “I was at work.”

“Ah, yes. Vania mentioned you have a job. Something with computers, knowing you?”

“Something like that.”

He nods. “And how is your little friend? Once again safe and sound, I trust.”

I stiffen. “How do you know she—”

“Oh, Misery. You didn’t really think that your communications with Owen went unmonitored, did you?”

I clench my fists behind my back and seriously debate slamming the door behind me and returning home. But there must be a reason he brought me here, and I need to know it. So I take my phone out of my pocket, and once I’m sitting across from Father, I lay it face up on his desk.

I tap on the timer app, set it for exactly ten minutes, and turn it toward him. Then I lean back in the chair. “Why am I here?”

“It’s been years since I last saw my only daughter.” He presses his lips together. “Is that not enough reason?”

“Nine minutes and forty-three seconds left.”

“Misery. My child.” The Tongue. “Why are you angry at me?”

I lift my eyebrow.

“You should not feel anger, but pride. The right choice is the one that ensures happiness for the largest number of people. And you were the means to that choice.”

I study him calmly. I’m positive that he really does believe this bullshit. That he thinks he’s a good guy. “Nine minutes and twenty-two seconds.”

He looks briefly, genuinely sad. Then he says, “There is to be a wedding.”

I jerk my head back. “A wedding? As in . . . like the Humans do?”

“A marriage ceremony. Like the Vampyres used to have.”

“Whose? Yours? Are you going to . . .” I don’t bother finishing the sentence—the sheer thought is ludicrous. It’s not just weddings that have gone out of fashion hundreds of years ago, but the entire idea of long-term relationships. As it turns out, when your species sucks at producing children, encouraging sexual walkabouts and the search for reproductively compatible partners takes precedence over romance. I doubt Vampyres were ever particularly romantic, anyway. “Whose?”

Father sighs. “Yet to be decided.”

I don’t like this, not any of it, but I’m not sure why yet. Something prickles in my ear, a whisper that I should get the hell out now, but as I’m about to stand, Father says, “Since you chose to live among the Humans, you must have been following their news.”

“Some of it,” I lie. We could be at war with Eurasia and on the verge of cloning unicorns, and I’d have no clue. I’ve been busy. Searching. Scouring. “Why?”

“The Humans recently had an election.”

I had no idea, but I nod. “Wonder what that’s like.” A leadership structure that’s not an unattainable council whose membership is restricted to a handful of families, passed down from generation to generation like a chipped china set.

“Not ideal. As Arthur Davenport was not reelected.”

“Governor Davenport?” The City is divided between the local Were pack and the Vampyres, but the rest of the Southwest region is almost exclusively Human. And for the last few decades, they’ve chosen Arthur Davenport to represent them—as far as I can recall, with little hesitation. That jerk. “Who’s the new guy?”

“A woman. Maddie Garcia is the governor-elect, and her term will start in a few months.”

“And your take on her . . . ?” He must have one. Father’s collaboration with Governor Davenport is the driving force behind the amicable relationship between our two people.

Well. Amicable might be too strong of a word. The average Human still thinks that we’re gagging to suck their cattle dry and mind-scramble their loved ones; the average Vampyre still thinks that Humans are cu

“I have no opinion,” he tells me, impassible. “Nor will I have the opportunity to form one soon, as Ms. Garcia has refused all my requests for meetings.”

“Ah.” Ms. Garcia must be wiser than I am.

“However, I am still tasked with guaranteeing the safety of my people. And once Governor Davenport is gone, in addition to the Were threat that we constantly face at the southern border, there might be one at the north. From the Humans.”

“I doubt she wants trouble, Father.” I pick at my nail polish. “She’ll probably just leave the current alliance as it is and cut down on the ceremonial bullshit—”

“Her team has informed us that as soon as she takes office, the Collateral program will be no more.”

I freeze. And then slowly look up. “What?”

“We have been formally asked to return the Human Collateral. And they will send back the girl who’s currently serving as the Vampyre Collateral—”

“Boy,” I correct him automatically. My fingertips feel numb. “The current Vampyre Collateral is a boy.” I met him once. He had dark hair and a constant frown and said “No, thank you” when I asked if he needed help carrying a stack of books. By now he might very well be as tall as me.

“Whatever it might be, the return will happen next week. The Humans have decided not to wait for Maddie Garcia to take office.”

“I don’t see . . .” I swallow. Gather myself. “It’s for the best. It’s a stupid practice.”

“It has been ensuring peace between the Vampyres and the Humans for over one hundred years.”

“Seems a little cruel to me,” I counter calmly. “Asking an eight-year-old to relocate alone inside enemy territory to play hostage.”

“ ‘Hostage’ is such a crude, simplistic word.”

“You hold a Human child as a deterrent for ten years, with the mutual understanding that if the Humans violate the terms of our alliance, the Vampyres will instantly murder the child. That seems crude and simplistic, too.”

Father’s eyes narrow. “It’s not unilateral.” His voice grows harder. “The Humans hold a Vampyre child for the same reason—”

“I know, Father.” I lean forward. “I was the previous Vampyre Collateral, in case you have forgotten.”

I wouldn’t put it past him—but no. He might not recall the way I tried to hold his hand as the armored sedan drove us north, or me trying to hide behind Vania’s thigh when I first got a glimpse of the Humans’ oddly colored eyes. He might not know how it felt, growing up with the knowledge that if the ceasefire between us and the Humans broke down, the same caregivers who’d taught me how to ride a bike would come into my room and drive a knife through my heart. He might not dwell on the fact that he sent his daughter to be the eleventh Collateral, ten years a prisoner among people who hated her kind.

But he does remember. Because the first rule of the Collateral, of course, is that they have to be closely tied to those in power. Those who make decisions concerning peace and war. And if Maddie Garcia doesn’t want to throw a member of her family under the bus in the name of public safety, that only makes me respect her more. The boy who took over when I turned eighteen is the grandson of Councilwoman Ewing. And when I served as the Vampyre Collateral, my Human counterpart was the grandson of Governor Davenport. I used to wonder if he felt like I did—sometimes angry, sometimes resigned. Mostly expendable. I’d sure love to know if, now that years have passed, he gets along with his family better than I do with mine.