Chapter 6: Crimson Roads - Hunger & Harmony

Daylight gives way to darkness as the tour bus rolls onto the open highway. My beacon of hope lies in a bed of navy and stars above, the waxing gibbous moon bright and energizing.

This is it.

I almost lost sight of my excitement. It bubbles to the surface as I stare out the tinted window, unable to believe I’m finally here. On the road, on tour with rock stars, and all without anyone’s permission but my own.

“Cadie!”

Not that I can forget I’m still very much on the clock.

“Uh-huh?” I ask as I swivel around to face Lorelai.

She sits at the table across the walkway, her laptop open. When I take a seat across from her, I’m not surprised there’s already coffee rings stained onto the silver wood.

“Make sure everyone is fed and resting, m’kay?”

“Of course.”

“No dillying,” she says, not looking up from her screen.

“I wouldn’t even dream of dallying,” I respond as I stand again.

Her laughter follows me as I walk from the dining and kitchen area. You could easily fit a group of eight in here. Eleven hours is going to breeze by with six of us spread out.

Selene and Ryel lounge on opposite sides of the leather couch. He’s scrawling something in a notebook, too engrossed to notice me. Given that Selene was wearing headphones with her eyes closed, though, maybe he’s ignoring me on purpose.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask them.

“My hairbrush and some Type A,” she says.

Ryel continues pretending I don’t exist, so I don’t bother pushing. After sourcing Selene’s carry-on bag and favorite blood from the mini-fridge, I hand her the matte brush. Long strands of silver thread through the black bristles, and it oddly reminds me of when my parents groom our family cat, Misty.

Selene is stunning. It’s hard to believe she’s even more so without her eyes lined and lips painted. Ryel is just as casual, his dyed-red hair pulled up into a small ponytail, and a black hoodie set on his sturdy frame.

After fixing her hair, she tosses the brush my way. Effectively dismissed, I return her bag and continue my search for the remaining members.

Deeper in the bus, I spot the bathroom door locked. I really hope it’s Niko in there. I don’t see anyone in the remaining bunks or hanging by the closets.

As if my life were one bad punchline, the master bedroom doors suddenly open to reveal Niko peeking out. Childish as he is, he immediately slams the doors shut upon seeing me. I roll my eyes. Disappointing, but not surprising.

“Lookin’ for me?”

To my delight, the bathroom door slides open before I even think about knocking on Niko’s.

“Yup,” I say, popping the ‘p’ for good measure. “Anything I can get you?”

“What’s your blood type?” Ezren asks with a wink.

I snort.

“Actually . . .” I shrug. “No clue.”

“Don’t worry, I can smell it,” he says, sauntering up to me playfully. “Might have to give Type O more consideration.”

It’s then that his eyes flick down to the shirt I’m wearing. His fangs gleam proudly as he grins.

“Especially since you accepted my gift.”

There’s a mysterious thump from inside the bedroom. A string of muffled curses behind those black doors, too. Ezren glances over before his smile turns mischievous.

“You know what that means, right?”

A tattooed arm swings over my shoulders. I burst into giggles as he pulls me in, his hug chaste but his tone disgustingly cheesy.

“You’re mine now,” he sing-songs so loudly, I’m sure one could hear it from the moon.

Not even half a beat later, the bedroom doors slam open.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were there, Your Majesty,” Ezren says, his faux innocence cracking me up.

When he steps out, Niko’s eyes drop to my chest. It’s brief, but enough to notice. His jaw clenches, and the wooden doors look like they’re going to give way where he’s gripping.

“I’m trying to rest,” Niko hisses.

His disheveled hair and tired scowl are proof of that.

“My bad,” I say, holding back most of my snark. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Leave.”

After exchanging a look with Ezren, I nod.

“Can do. Let me know if there’s anything else.” I glance up. “What about you?”

“You’ve satisfied me enough, Pookie,” Ezren coos, and I have to playfully punch his shoulder for that.

“Ez.”

He snickers triumphantly as he steps away. Before Niko can scold either of us, my work phone buzzes.

“It’s Selene!”

I don’t have to explain more than that.

Up the narrow hallway, I follow the path until I’m sitting across from her and Lorelai at the table. The chill, mundane vibe has dissipated, making room for pinched eyebrows and furious mouse clicks.

“What is it?” I ask, stomach sinking further the longer they don’t answer.

After a few more moments of tense silence, Lorelai whips around her laptop. Multiple windows are up, each showing news articles and videos with similar headlines.

Anti-vampire protests are rising in Gravemont.

My brain nearly short-circuits as I scan over the words, reading everything but not understanding.

Tensions, near-violent skirmishes, crowds with pickets.

I sit back, wide eyes flicking between Selene and Lorelai. It’s hard to know what to say.

Ryel and Ezren file in, the latter taking his spot next to me while Ryel heads to the couch. Niko appears, too, keeping his back against the wall as Selene speaks. The hum of the highway leading to Gravemont is a humbling backing track.

“Correspondence from the Court came in. Archduchess Imara has already relayed a warning about this,” she says.

Isn’t that Niko’s aunt and the previous regent?

“She’s pushing to not play this venue?” Ezren asks like he already knows the answer.

“With threats to revoke privileges if a scandal arises,” Ryel hums.

Niko remains silent. It’s confusing. If he truly is king, then how could his aunt threaten him? Is he not the one in charge? The air pressure in the bus is nearly suffocating, regardless.

I turn the laptop away, tired of the ugly clickbait titles and comments.

“What’s your call?”

Selene looks at Niko. Everyone is. Even I turn towards him.

My heart leaps when his eyes find mine first. Those burgundy irises leave me dizzy, so I lower my gaze to his crossed arms.

“We’re going.”

No one dares to object. In fact, when I glance at everyone, they look assured. Relaxed. As prickly as Ryel is, even his body language loosens. Niko may have to answer to his family and his Court, but it’s obvious that here, with his bandmates and allies, his word is law. They trust him.

“We’ve defied in worse ways,” Ezren says with a dry laugh.

Selene nods.

“Survived worse, too.”

“What do the Midnight Cynics not scrutinize?” Niko adds, and the road to Gravemont already feels breezier. “They weren’t the ones facing the first wave of hate like we did.”

“Man, I thought we’d never play a live show again,” Ezren says, shaking his head as he glances down at me. “Really!”

I smile weakly in response before I glance Niko’s way.

While everyone is already getting back to business, his eyes remain unfocused, and I don’t miss how tight his jaw is. His knuckles blanch paler, too, and I fight the urge to say something. It’s not my business. It’s not my right. I can’t stop my heart from sinking lower when he quietly turns and disappears back up the walkway, like he’s hoping no one notices.

So, I pretend I don’t. What right does a human assistant have? Especially when he’s made it clear how he feels about me. Didn’t I already tell myself to stop caring? All I’d do is make it worse.

I don’t care. I won’t make it worse.

Like a mantra, I loop that in my mind as the drive continues.

Between the occasional pouch request or chat with Lorelai or Ezren, I read up in the notes section for the cities we’ll be going to. There’s not a lot of information I don’t already know. Who put these useless notes together?

We’re more than halfway through the journey when the bus exits the highway for a pit stop.

There’s been plenty of room to spread out, but when the night air hits my flushed face, I’m renewed. After midnight in Sunveil is almost busier than during the day. Here, only the gravel under my sneakers and echoing rumbles of the distant highway break up the silence. There are just a few silhouettes in the cozy glow of the gas station up ahead, too.

“Brr.”

I shiver as I huddle into my denim jacket. Over six hours north is no joke. October finally feels like itself when my breath crystallizes in faint puffs.

“Five minutes' break, everyone,” Lorelai announces, her loud voice ricocheting off exposed branches and curling leaves. “Seven minutes until we leave again!”

Lorelai snatches Ezren’s elbow, dragging him up the dim path to the gas station. Ryel lights a cigarette and leans against the bus. Selene and Niko are still inside.

I’m about to follow the two bickering all the way to the building when my back pocket starts vibrating.

With a squee, I pull out my personal phone. Perfect timing to quickly bitch to Viola!

My disappointment falls off a cliff when I see my mom’s caller ID.

As if I’d answer. I let it ring, hoping she’ll figure I’m asleep and give up. So what if we haven’t talked for over a week? Accounting firm internships are serious work, right?

The call finally drops, and I let out a sigh.

Only for my stomach to invent a new type of somersault when a text flashes above the ‘missed call’ notification.

Life Giver

Where are you? This is serious.

What is she talking about? I run through a million different answers, the lies tangling when another message comes through.

Life Giver

Please. We saw the footage.

I’m too busy losing my shit to notice when a figure looms closer to me. A yelp catches in my throat when I hear his voice.

“You should reply. Family has a way of finding out the truth.”

Scrambling backwards, I face the intruder under a single street lamp. What’s his name again? Cam? He peers down at me through the shadow of his hoodie and curly brown bangs. Does this guy own other clothes?

I grip my thundering heart with one hand, the other clutching my phone. I’m too sick to even look when another vibration alerts me.

There’s something about the way he said that. Calm and flat, as if he already knew what was on my screen.

“Huh?” is all I can muster.

We hold a three-second staring contest before Lorelai’s shrill laughter cuts through the crisp air.

“Alright, everyone! Let’s load back up!”

By the time I look back at him, Cam is approaching the bus. Or Cash? I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. Maybe I heard him wrong. Maybe he’s tired or just an asshole who wanted to spook the new girl. That’s all the explanations I can think of . . .

I pocket my phone, not bothering to check what else my mom is saying. There’s no time to address this. I just need to make it to Gravemont. Hearing from Viola would be a lifesaver.

Firmly seating myself at the table, I notice Cam or Cash or whatever slipping into the driver’s cabin. He must be helping the driver navigate.

We start the final stretch. The moonlit coastline is replaced by choppier waters to our left, and distant mountain ranges rise from the grasslands to the right. Whispers of trees become an onslaught of evergreens, and the temperature drops further. A mist of rain hides the moon and stars.

I marvel at its beauty as we rush by. My hometown is nothing but plains and wheat fields.

The trees and mountains give way to concrete, and my awe wanes. In the dead of night, the industrial city of Gravemont is eerily vacant. It’s like we’re the only ones rolling through this landscape of asphalt and urban density. Like the city itself is holding its breath.

My teeth worry at my lower lip. I’m not blind to how much graffiti protests ‘leeches’ and ‘blood thieves’ on the old buildings we pass or under bridges. The closer to downtown we get, the more flyers are plastered everywhere. These outcries litter every corner and dance amongst dead leaves.

The first sign of life appears when we roll to the front of a hotel. A distinctly vintage architecture forms the looming building. Despite its warm and opulent exterior, the security is unlike anything I’ve seen so far. Even onboarding the tour bus earlier and witnessing fans and media crowding around, nothing comes close to this amount of armed guards.

“You hanging in there?”

I turn to Ezren with as bright of a smile as I can.

“Of course! Traveling is easy, and I’m getting used to this whole . . .five in the morning bedtime thing.”

“I know,” he says, bumping my shoulder with his as the bus slows to a halt. “I’m talking about the hostility.”

My smile falters, and he shrugs.

“We’re used to it. A lot of our most loyal fans are here, but so are some of the biggest haters.”

“Why?” I whisper. I turn back to the window, eyes fixed on the venomous messages left for Arteria scrawled onto the hotel’s brick. “Why would anyone hate you guys?”

“Lack of understanding,” he hums. “Jealousy, too. Who wouldn’t want to be or get with me?”

I laugh weakly. I’m definitely the last to know about vampires’ divisive effect on the human population, but the unrest is palpable in this city. I swear, even wrong notes echo in the distance as doors open and everyone unloads.

“Cadie!” Lorelai hollers, and I follow her voice out into the sea of security. “Get everyone checked in and settled.”

“We know what to do,” Ezren says as he steps off the bus. “We’re not babies.”

“Do you ever just listen?” Ryel huffs as he joins.

“Quiet,” Selene says, and even the guards seem to straighten up at the sight of her.

A single burst of light catches my attention. Then another. And another.

Wide-eyed, I search around, only now realizing that the media is waiting, despite security pushing back on them. The last to leave, Niko descends the steps with his head high. My gaze softens as I stare, knowing the burden on his shoulders. He makes it seem weightless.

The media is like gas, and Niko is the match. Everything immediately catches fire.

Chaos. Shouting and jostling break out, and the front doors are only right there. The cameramen and reporters try to muscle past the wall of guards, screaming questions and insults alike. My hands find Ezren’s wrist, and then Niko’s arm, unsure if I’m helping them or they’re protecting me as we wade towards the entrance.

When the automatic doors open, we stumble into the lobby. I can barely notice the old luxury of the interior, unable to appreciate any details as reporters swarm from the outside. Already, the staff attend to us, taking our luggage and coordinating where to go. I’m grateful for the smooth process. I suspect this hotel has a history with Arteria.

It’s only when the elevator doors slide closed and begin the journey up to the top floor that I focus on my right hand. More importantly, what’s in it.

“Oh, Your Majesty!” I gasp, retracting my hand like he’s a hot surface.

I glance around to confirm, but I don’t know how it ended up just us in this spacious elevator. Was I dragging him by his bicep the entire time? I clear my throat and occupy myself with the elevator buttons.

“Sorry . . .”

“For?”

My lips form a line. Is he really gonna make me say it?

“I’m sorry for dragging you in here. I didn't realize.”

Silence. I peek through the reflective black wall to see his reaction. Niko leans against the other side, arms crossed and eyes fixed on me. A tingle shoots up my spine.

“The . . .chaos, you know. I wasn’t prepared,” I continue, as if talking more isn’t digging my grave deeper. “I grabbed Ez, too, so⁠—”

“You’d prefer him?”

I catch my own brows furrowing in confusion.

“Huh?”

My eyes flick back to his reflection, watching the way he adjusts his posture and turns his face.

“Never mind.”

Against my better judgment, I slowly turn to look at him. We’re still quite a few floors away from the destination.

Do I prefer Ezren? To him? If that’s what he’s asking, the answer is obvious.

Ezren is a good guy. He’s funny and has opened up to me, too. It’s the complete opposite of the one scowling at the corner just to avoid facing me.

His first words to me were literal insults. He’s insufferably hot and cold, and I can’t stand him. I admire Niko from a distance, but when face-to-face, he’s a petulant asshole.

All day, the answer is one hundred percent clear.

“You don’t even tolerate me,” I mumble.

His hands twitch. The elevator slows.

“Ez is a friend,” I continue. “It’s not about preference. I don’t even know you, Your Majesty.”

What is the point of this conversation? Even watching his eyes widen subtly, I hate how my stomach leaps. I hate the inkling of hope that overstays in my heart. The doors slide open, and I turn away from him.

“You’d run to the furthest corners of Aurea if you got any closer to me.”

I stiffen. Did he say that out loud? I don’t stay to find out, hurrying out of the elevator and blindly up the hallway to create distance.

Because I’m sure he didn’t say it. I know he didn’t.

And I’ve never heard the wrong notes take form in someone’s voice before.