Chapter 3: The Reason I

Marcel looked at him for a moment. The silence stretched just long enough to make Asher’s pulse jump again. Then the Vampire Lord spoke, his voice quiet and almost dry.

"If I wanted you dead, you would not have finished that sentence."

Asher blinked. "...That’s not as comforting as you think it is."

Marcel didn’t reply. He simply guided him into the waiting car. The door shut with a soft, expensive sound that felt completely foreign to Asher’s ears. The vehicle pulled away from the street, leaving the landlord and the lower districts behind.

Asher sat stiffly on the smooth leather seat, crystal ball clutched tightly against his chest. The silence inside the car was worse than the earlier tension, and he wasn’t the kind who enjoyed tension unless it was sexual. So his mouth decided to fill the silence without permission.

"So," he began, bouncing one knee, "do vampires really sparkle, or is that just bad propaganda? Because I’ve always wondered. It seems impractical. Very hard to hunt if you’re glittering like a chandelier."

Marcel glanced at him once, then looked forward again without giving him a reply.

Asher tried a different angle. "Am I allowed to request non-blood-related meals? I’m very open-minded, but I draw the line at drinking my coworkers. Just a personal preference."

He got nothing as well, but he was determined to not give up.

He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "If I correctly predict your death, do I still get paid? Asking for professional reasons."

That one earned the faintest curve of Marcel’s mouth. "You will be compensated regardless."

Asher opened his mouth to fire off another question, then stopped. The Vampire Lord was watching him. Not casually. Not with open threat. He was studying him, quietly and thoroughly, as if cataloguing every nervous twitch and forced joke.

The realization made Asher’s skin prickle. He sat back against the seat and forced a grin. "Is this a vampire thing or a ’you’re very strange’ thing?"

Marcel’s gaze didn’t waver. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice even.

"A month ago, you told me I would face death from within my own circle. You said the blade would come from someone who smiled as they offered loyalty." His eyes remained on Asher. "That warning was the only reason I survived the attempt."

Asher’s fingers tightened around the crystal ball.

"I decided then," Marcel continued, "that a human capable of seeing what my own people could not was too valuable to leave rotting in the slums. And also too interesting."

The last word hung in the air longer than it should have, and Asher didn’t know what to do with it, so he laughed under his breath. "Interesting is one word for it. Most people just say ’annoying’ or ’probably lying.’"

Marcel said nothing more.

The car eventually slowed. When the door opened again, Asher stepped out and froze.

The estate rose before him like something from a different world. White stone, tall arched windows, manicured gardens that looked like they had never known dust or decay. The place radiated old money and power. It made his former room look like a discarded box.

Asher’s mouth fell open for a full two seconds before he recovered.

"...Well," he said faintly. "This is slightly better than my previous mold palace. Only slightly, of course. I’m still emotionally attached to the water stains."

Marcel walked past him without comment. Asher hurried to follow.

The moment they entered the grand hall, every servant and vampire in sight stopped. Some bowed low. Others simply stared at the scruffy human walking beside their lord with a crystal ball hugged to his chest like a child’s toy.

Asher felt the weight of every gaze and instinctively moved a half-step closer to Marcel.

The Vampire Lord did not slow. His voice carried easily through the hall, calm and absolute.

"Prepare proper rooms for him. Clothes. Food. Whatever he requires." A pause. "No one is to touch him."

The final order settled over the hall like a quiet blade. Eyes turned from Marcel and settled on the fortune teller, each vampire probably wondering why their lord had just brought a human into his abode.

Asher glanced up at Marcel, then back at the staring faces, and muttered under his breath, "No pressure, you can take your time."