The Rapture

Furious I lash out, “Am I just a prize to be won then?”

Arlo retracts from me, taken back at my hostility. “No, Evie, you are not a prize to be one, look I will do my best to explain.”

Just as Arlo continues to explain the complexities of my new existence, Alistair emerges from the shadows, the enigmatic vampire who orchestrated my spectacle in front of everyone at the party. His presence sends a shiver down my spine.

"We need to talk," he declares, his voice carrying an air of authority that brookes no argument.

Without waiting for a response, he leads us deeper into the mansion, away from the lingering echoes of the crowd. We pass through dimly lit hallways, the flickering gaslight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Thick wooden doors line the corridor, their intricate carvings hinting at the mansion's age and the secrets hidden within.

Finally, we reach Alistair's office, a grand chamber that exudes both power and antiquity. As we enter, the wall-to-ceiling windows glide open with a silent whoosh, as if controlled by an unseen force. Moonlight floods the room, illuminating the rich mahogany desk and the ornate Victorian throne chairs that await us.

My eyes are drawn to the view beyond the windows. The sight that greets me is both breathtaking and bewildering. The cityscape of Veritas shimmers in the distance, nestled against the dark expanse of the ocean. But we aren't on an island. I had driven here, hadn't I? I had seen the familiar roads as we headed into the country.

Confusion gnaws at me, but before I can voice my questions, Alistair gestures towards the two throne chairs. "Please, be seated," he invites, his tone formal yet strangely welcoming.

Arlo and I exchange a glance before settling into the opulent throne chairs. The armrests are intricately carved from ivory, and the high backs reach towards the ceiling, crowned with gilded crests. Alistair takes his place behind the massive mahogany desk, his throne eclipsing the other furnishings. It is a marvel of artistry and extravagance, forged from blackened wood and steel, the seat and backrest studded with countless sapphires that shimmer in the moonlight.

He leans back, his fingers steepled before him, a predator assessing his prey. The questions swirl in my mind, vying for attention. But one thing is clear: I have been thrust into a world far more complex and mysterious than I could have ever imagined. And the answers I seek lie somewhere within the walls of this enigmatic mansion.

Alistair's piercing gaze settles on Arlo, his voice a calm yet authoritative rumble. "Why did you turn her?" he questions, his words laced with a hint of disapproval. "She wasn't ready."

Arlo hesitates for a moment, the weight of Alistair's authority momentarily stifling his response. But he quickly regains his composure, his voice steady as he addresses the accusation. "She was being hunted, Alistair," he explains, "by both demons and knights. She told me she ran away because she felt trapped, and obligated to work for the wealthy at the hospital. It makes me wonder if her parents might be under the influence of demons."

My anger flares. "My parents are not evil!" I retort, my voice rising in defense of my family. "They've always been loving and supportive."

Alistair raises a placating hand, silencing my outburst. "We're not accusing them of anything, Evie," he says soothingly.

"We're simply trying to understand the situation." Arlo nods in agreement. “It would be new for demons and angels to be working together, but…." Arlo trails off before he can finish the thought.

My heart pounds in my chest. Demons? Angels? What is this war Arlo speaks of? And why does it involve my parents?

"I saw a knight chasing her," he adds, his voice grim. "I believe it is the knight who convinced her to run, to escape the supposed 'evil' of her parents. If I hadn't intervened, she could have been taken by the angels and forced to serve as one of their knights or worse."

My mind reels. A knight? Was that supposed to be somehow worse than being a vampire? And why was this war being fought? The angels are on the good side, right?

"I know you asked me to watch over her," Arlo continues, addressing Alistair directly, "but something about her feels... important. Both the demons and the angels have been watching her closely. It's not normal for them to care about medical students. Perhaps they're looking to target our food source, or trying to establish a new foothold in the human world. Or maybe they're after something more, something Evie possesses. Whatever the reason, she's a pawn in a dangerous game, and I couldn't allow them to take her will.”

Alistair remains silent for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "This changes everything." Alistair's piercing gaze shifts to me, his voice softening slightly but still retaining its authoritative edge.

"When did you plan to start working at the hospital?" he inquires.

"Next month," I reply, my tone defiant. "But I'm not going to—"

Alistair cuts me off, his voice brooking no argument. "You will, and you will work nights. We're simply accelerating our plans. Arlo," he turns to the other vampire, "I know you've never wanted a pupil, but she's yours now. You have one month to train her and ensure her survival."

The word "pupil" grates on my nerves. It feels demeaning like being reduced to a mere pawn in their game. My anger simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

Arlo simply nods, his expression impassive.

The lack of support from my supposed protector fuels my frustration. Unable to contain my emotions any longer, I rise abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the stone floor.

"I'm leaving this place," I declare, my voice shaking with indignation.

I spin on my heel, my long hair whipping around my face in a gesture of defiance. With a final burst of anger, I shove the heavy throne chair behind me, sending it crashing to the floor with a resounding thud.

Arlo, unfazed by my outburst, merely shrugs and follows me out of the room. The echoes of our footsteps fade down the corridor, leaving Alistair alone in the opulent chamber.

As I storm down the hall contemplating, Arlo turning me unexpectedly has thrown a wrench into his carefully laid schemes.