The Daughter She Left in the Sun

When I was little, my mother always told me we were low-blood half-breeds.

She made me drink expired blood packs and wear old clothes, and I lived in a basement with no sunlight at all.

I had to dodge daylight and run errands for the black market every day, and I still couldn't afford the conversion fee.

I believed her. I starved until my fangs wouldn't even come in, and I never dared to ask for a single drop of fresh blood.

Until the year I turned eight, when I sold cheap blood serum at an underground auction.

I saw her buy top-grade pure blood and a diamond crown for her daughter, and the auction house owner bowed low and called her Madam.

I ran to her and called her Mom. A high-ranking vampire beside her looked surprised:

"Is this another Hollowell daughter? Why is her aura so weak?"

My mother smiled and said I was a crazy street urchin from the slums who begged for scraps.

Three days later, she said she would take me to apply for relief. She left me in the open wasteland at noon, with no shade anywhere.

I waited a full day, the sun scorching my skin, but she never came back.

Sixteen years later, my bloodline awakened, and I sat on the dark high platform where the ancient vampire Consortium chooses the Prince's bride.

The steward told me the girl in the tailored gown was the pride of House Hollowell, the one most likely to be chosen by the Prince.

I recognized her at once. It was my sister.

1

I sat behind the gauze curtain on the dark high platform.

The steward bowed and opened a heavy gilded register.

His fingertip slid over the silky pages and stopped on one name.

"My lady, this is Miss Arabella Hollowell, the pride of House Hollowell."

I followed the direction of his gaze.

Under the spotlight, a girl in a custom gown lifted her skirt gracefully and sank into a curtsy to the guests below.

She was my sister, Arabella Hollowell.

The noble vampires around us raised their glasses of bright red liquid.

"Such pure blood, truly a Hollowell!"

"This poise, this aura! She was born to be the Prince's bride!"

Praise rose on all sides.

Arabella lifted her chin even higher.

I picked up the goblet by my hand, and the crimson wine swayed in the glass.

The mildew stink of the basement, mixed with blood and rot, rushed back into my nose after sixteen years.

Crack.

A crisp shattering sound rang out.

The goblet turned to powder in my hand. Wine mixed with shards of glass dripped between my fingers.

"Our family is poor, so you have to be sensible."

"It's expired animal blood. Heat it up and it's still drinkable."

"What new clothes? Your sister is frail. The pretty sun cloaks belong to her."

Mother's words echoed in my ears, each one tasting of cold rust.

She locked me in a boiler room where the sun never reached, and gave me only a small bag of black, stinking blood plasma each day.

Other vampire children got soothing drops when their fangs came in.

I got nothing, and I learned to hurt without making a sound.

My sister was "resting", after all. I wasn't allowed to wake her.

I thought every low-blood vampire's life had to be this bitter.

But my sister, supposedly so frail, slept in a luxurious temperature-controlled coffin lined with velvet.

Her closet was full of countless expensive sun cloaks, each one set with diamond chips.

Her daily drink was the freshest type A blood, flown in from a human noble estate.

On stage, Arabella was displaying the blood-shaping she was so proud of.

A drop of blood rose from her fingertip and turned into a butterfly in the air, fluttering around.

Applause filled the hall.

"What a genius!"

"Lady Hollowell is a wonderful teacher!"

I drew out a silk handkerchief and wiped the wine and blood from my fingertips, slowly and unhurried.

The stain soaked into the white silk at once, leaving not a trace.

I tossed the used handkerchief to the floor and watched the dazzling girl on stage with cold eyes.

The steward noticed my gesture. He bent down and asked carefully.

"My lady, are you pleased?"

2

The year I turned seven, I was so hungry I couldn't think.

For three days in a row, Mother "forgot" to send me any food.

I crawled out through the crack under the boiler room door and slipped into my sister's room.

She had just finished her afternoon tea, and a fine crystal blood bottle had been tossed carelessly beside the trash bin.

I picked it up. Inside, it was completely empty.