Chương 43: Under Vaust Lights

Ravenport had never needed my name written on its paperwork for people to understand how much of the city revolved around me. Officially, I held no authority over it. The city had a mayor, a council, several government departments, tax codes thick enough to stun a horse, and enough paperwork to make even Adrian occasionally stare into the distance like a man witnessing the death of beauty.

On paper, Ravenport belonged to the state, which belonged to the country, which answered to whichever government currently believed borders were something more than polite suggestions backed by weapons. I had no interest in replacing any of them. City hall held very little appeal, and the chairs were ugly. I had even less interest in governing through endless laws and committees. My patience for rules tended to disappear the moment those rules stopped being useful.

None of that changed the simple reality that Ravenport existed in its current form because of Vaust Royale. The sleepy coastal settlement had grown outward from my hotel and casino until it became a sprawling metropolis of glass, neon, magic, and money. People came for the gambling, the entertainment, the lights, the protection, and most importantly, the rules that came with all of it. Merchants followed the money. Adventurers followed opportunity and danger.

Criminals inevitably followed both, and then somehow acted surprised when consequences eventually caught up with them. That was always the funniest part. A person could walk directly beneath a sign declaring, "No blood is spilled under Vaust lights without Vaust permission," and still decide that spilling blood was worth attempting. Some people treated warnings like decorations. I treated them like contracts.

Even the city's name had eventually required my involvement, although only because everyone insisted I needed to have an opinion. Once the settlement grew large enough to deserve something more official, the mayor, the council, and several visibly nervous developers arrived at Vaust Royale carrying a collection of proposals. Port Vaust. New Graymere. Westhaven. Crystal Bay. Someone even suggested Violet City, which I nearly approved purely out of spite.

In the end, my children cared far more about naming the city than I did, and what should have been a simple decision became a family argument that lasted considerably longer than necessary. Celeste, naturally, wanted the city named after herself.

"Celestia," she proposed with complete confidence. Adrian barely looked up.

"No."

"Celestine Harbor."

"No."

"Celesteport." That finally earned his full attention.

"Absolutely not." Celeste looked personally wounded.

"It has charm."

"It sounds like a perfume someone smuggled through customs." I turned toward Adrian.

"That was oddly specific." His expression did not change.

"I handled customs last decade." Celeste ignored him and placed both hands over her heart.

"Mother, imagine it. An entire city named after your most beloved daughter."

"I have four daughters."

"Your loudest beloved daughter."

"That's not a merit."

"It has presence." Aura, who had perched herself on the back of a chair she was absolutely not supposed to be sitting on, puffed smoke from her nose.

"Name it Dragonrest." Celeste stared at her.

"You're not even attempting subtlety." Aura blinked.

"I'm a dragon."

"Exactly." Nadia eventually suggested Ravenport, arguing that it sounded elegant and ominous without becoming embarrassing. Rowan immediately supported the choice, mostly because he thought it sounded like the kind of city that would have excellent shadows, while Malcolm simply felt the name suited the coastline. Vera liked it for an entirely different reason, pointing out with a smile that ravens were remarkably intelligent birds. Vesper responded by staring at all of us with its usual unreadable judgment.

Apparently, that counted as approval. So Ravenport it became. Truthfully, I had never cared much what the city was called, but the name grew on me quickly enough. It had a pleasant sound, suited the atmosphere, and, considering we were sitting directly beside the sea, at least made geographical sense. That was all a name really needed. During the day, Ravenport could almost convince visitors that it was perfectly respectable.

Sunlight reflected from glass towers, the harbor glittered along the coast, and families wandered through the entertainment district while adventurers in polished gear drank coffee beside office workers and witches wearing tailored business suits. Tourists gathered constantly near Vaust Royale's enormous fountain attraction, holding up phones while streams of water danced through arcs of violet, gold, and silver light. In daylight, Ravenport could almost pass for civilized, but nightfall stripped away the illusion.

Once the sun disappeared and the neon took over, the city revealed what it had truly become: a monster city dressed in a tailored coat. Dark alleys came alive beneath the neon glow, while rooftops became roads for creatures with claws. Gangs crawled from expensive hiding places dressed in suits, masks, leather, jewelry, stolen magic, and enough arrogance to fertilize a forest. Vampire covens attempted to carve out territory. Werewolf packs fought over districts no sane person wanted after midnight.

Witch cartels sold charms to people too stupid to read curse disclaimers, while demon cults reappeared every few years with the persistence of mold. Hunters prowled the streets as well, carrying themselves like righteous protectors while conveniently ignoring how often they behaved like criminals with better branding. Ravenport's shadows, however, belonged to someone far more capable. They belonged to my son.

Rowan had become frighteningly comfortable moving through the city after dark, slipping across rooftops and through alleyways as though the shadows themselves had agreed to make room for him. Unlike a certain brooding man dressed in black, he also spent considerably less time standing on rooftops trying to look dramatic. Usually… The Adventurer's Guild had evolved alongside Ravenport.

It still hunted monsters beyond the city and, regrettably, continued accepting absurd requests involving things like missing enchanted spoons, but within Ravenport it had become something much closer to a ranked, magically armed police force. F-ranks handled everyday problems such as missing persons, petty theft, escort work, and the occasional monster sighting that turned out to be nothing more than a drunken man wearing decorative horns.

C-ranks through A-ranks were called for more dangerous situations, including gangs, rogue mages, cursed buildings, and dangerous beasts. Once an entire district was threatened, S-ranks stepped in. SS-ranks were considerably rarer and powerful enough that most people treated their arrival like a natural disaster had shown up carrying identification. SSS stood above even them, a rank reserved for me and, eventually, the rest of my family.

People still liked to pretend that fact did not terrify them, and I found the effort adorable. The Guild's authority ended at the doors of Vaust Royale. Inside my walls, Vaust law took precedence, and everyone who mattered understood that, from the mayor and national government to several foreign officials who had already received one of Adrian's painfully polite replies. If something happened beneath Vaust's lights, House Vaust handled it.

That was one of the advantages of being ancient, obscenely wealthy, politically indispensable, and powerful enough that most modern weapons had become philosophical suggestions. The truly amusing part was that anyone curious enough could still trace me backward through history. Buried within the Guild archives beneath centuries of revised systems and digitized records, my original mercenary registration still existed. The Violet Extorter.

I had earned S-rank before most of the Guild's modern classifications even existed, walking into the old system as a problem and somehow never ceasing to be one. Now my face appeared in historical databases, security briefings, monster classification manuals, and several documentaries so inaccurate that I occasionally wondered whether the people making them had researched another vampire entirely.

Celeste loved those documentaries, mostly because they gave her fresh material to use against me whenever the opportunity arose. Thankfully, she wasn't currently in the room to remind me of any of them. I stood alone in my office on the hundredth floor, looking out over Ravenport as the city glowed beneath the night sky. From up there, the neon streets and illuminated towers almost looked peaceful. The silence lasted until the doors behind me burst open without so much as a knock.

Apparently, knocking had become a dead language in my household.

"Mother," Celeste sang as she swept into the room like a beautifully dressed storm with no concept of personal boundaries.

"We've got some live ones." I turned away from the window, and despite myself, a small smile touched my lips. One of the more entertaining portions of my evening had apparently arrived.

"Violators?"

"Oh, very much so." Celeste wore a black-and-violet dress threaded with protective charms, the fabric catching the light with every step. Over the years, she had developed a habit of borrowing pieces of my style, especially the darker colors, but violet always seemed to find its way into the final result. I suspected she liked the idea that it made us look more alike. Naturally, I had never encouraged her.

Her silver-blonde hair fell in perfect waves around her shoulders, which meant she had either spent an unreasonable amount of time arranging it or bullied reality into cooperating. With Celeste, both possibilities were equally believable. More importantly, she looked delighted. That usually meant whoever had broken my rules was exceptionally stupid, exceptionally guilty, or fortunate enough to be both. Either way, the evening had just become more interesting. I walked past her toward the private elevator.

"What happened?" She immediately fell into step beside me, practically glowing with anticipation.

"Four vampires." That caught my attention. A great many vampires had attempted to crawl toward House Vaust over the decades. Some wanted alliances, while others wanted protection. A surprising number wanted to join the House itself, as though my family was some exclusive nightclub rather than a bloodline bound directly to my soul. Most covens on the continent were weak rather than harmless, and there was an important difference between the two.

Even a pathetic snake could still bite if someone were foolish enough to step on it.

"Which coven?"

"A minor one from the east side. Black Thorn." I searched my memory for the name and found absolutely nothing worth remembering. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"How forgettable."

"I know, tragic." We reached the elevator at the center of the private floor. Black metal doors bore the Vaust crest, a crown positioned over fangs wrapped in violet flame, while the scanner beside them illuminated as we approached. Modern security was adorable. Facial recognition identified me first, followed by Celeste, before the system moved through blood signatures, soul wards, magical contamination checks, and several other layers of security Adrian had insisted were necessary.

Once our identities were confirmed, the standard floor panel illuminated with the usual destinations: Penthouse, Security Command, Casino, Hotel, Theater, Guild Liaison, Family District, and Staff Only. A second panel then slid quietly into view beneath it, hidden from anyone without the proper clearance. Near the bottom, a single red button waited beneath one word. Corrections… Celeste pressed it with considerably more enthusiasm than anyone should have shown for our destination.

The doors closed behind us, and a moment later, soft instrumental music began drifting through the elevator. I slowly looked toward the ceiling. Of all the things technology had given the world, elevator music remained one of the most baffling.

Humanity had harnessed electricity, flight, long-distance communication, artificial intelligence, and vehicles fast enough to make horses practically obsolete, yet somewhere during that magnificent journey, someone decided enclosed vertical travel required gentle instrumental suffering. Celeste swayed slightly to the melody. Then she looked at me.

"You look beautiful today." I gave her the look that had silenced far more sensible people over the years. Celeste had endured it thousands of times, however, and remained completely immune.

"I do not age. Would that not mean I look exactly the same every day?"

"Yes."

"Then the compliment is redundant." Her smile widened.

"And yet I tell you every day." I opened my mouth, paused, and then closed it again. Celeste tilted her head expectantly. Unfortunately, she had me there.

"True." Her smile softened in that dangerous little way she had whenever she knew she had won something small but meaningful. I looked forward again, trying not to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much the compliment had actually affected me. It was not that I disliked hearing it. Somewhere along the way, arguing with Celeste had simply become part of how we showed affection, and neither of us seemed particularly interested in changing that.

The elevator continued beneath Vaust Royale, its cheerful music remaining painfully inappropriate for the destination. Somewhere far above us, guests gambled, drank, danced, watched shows, rode attractions, slept beneath silk sheets, and photographed themselves in front of fountains. Beneath all that luxury sat the part of Vaust hospitality no brochure ever mentioned: our private corrections facility. The name had been Adrian's idea.

I had preferred The Pit, while Celeste championed Consequence Boutique with far too much enthusiasm. Vera suggested something calm and properly legal; Malcolm offered nothing at all, which usually meant he agreed with Adrian, and Nadia disliked the idea of naming the place in the first place. Adrian won in the end for the simple reason that he finished the paperwork before the rest of us realized he had already made the decision. Corrections existed for people who violated Vaust laws.

Theft, assault, trafficking, coercion, magical tampering, blood crimes, predation, cheating beyond what casino tradition reasonably allowed, and anything else severe enough to insult my hospitality could earn someone a visit. Punishments varied depending on the offense. Some people paid fines large enough to make their descendants feel poorer, while others were handed over to the Guild or, in certain cases, directly to their victims. A few simply disappeared from polite conversation altogether.

I considered the system wonderfully flexible. As the elevator descended into the reinforced levels beneath the public structure, I finally looked toward Celeste.

"What exactly did the vampires do?" Her brightness faded. That alone told me enough.

"They drugged guests," she explained, and the disgust creeping into her voice stripped away the last of her earlier amusement.

"Mostly attractive women… They isolated them, took them into private rooms, fed from them, and then…" Celeste's jaw tightened and she did not need to finish the sentence. The implication was enough to strip away every trace of amusement I had carried into the elevator, replacing it with a cold anger that settled deep and immediate.

"I understand." Celeste nodded once. When the doors finally opened, screams drifted toward us from somewhere farther down the corridor. Strangely, I felt more at ease hearing them than I had during the entire elevator ride. Perhaps that should have concerned me. I considered the thought for a moment, and then dismissed it. I could not think of a single reason to care. Corrections stretched beneath Vaust Royale in corridors of clean black stone, reinforced glass, steel, and layered magical wards.

Cells occupied one wing, interrogation rooms another, while medical facilities sat farther back because Adrian insisted that if we were going to hurt people professionally, someone needed to know precisely when to stop. He was practical like that. Several House-trained guards stood near the entrance, all disciplined enough to pretend they weren't listening to the screams echoing from the room ahead. They straightened immediately when they noticed me.

"Lady Vaust." I passed without slowing, with Celeste remaining beside me. The room we entered was one of Adrian's preferred spaces. There was nothing theatrical about it. No decorative bloodstains or unnecessary chains lined the walls. Instead, the room contained a table, several chairs, reinforced restraints, drainage built into the floor, spell-dampening walls, and clean tools arranged with the kind of precision that made violence feel almost administrative. Adrian stood near the table.

He wore a black suit with his gloves on and his sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. His expression remained calm, his posture controlled, and every movement carried the same absence of wasted effort that had followed him for more than a century. Over the years, my first son had learned to wear many different faces depending on what the family needed from him.

He could be the dutiful security chief, the perfectly polite host, the strategic advisor, the exhausted husband, or the older brother somehow responsible for keeping an immortal disaster of a family pointed in the same direction. This was a different face entirely, reserved for the people who had already crossed far enough beyond forgiveness that politeness no longer served a purpose. Four vampires were restrained throughout the room, and none of them had been treated gently.

One was missing several teeth, while another had both hands broken badly enough that the restraints prevented his regeneration from setting them properly. A third had already given up any attempt at dignity and was openly sobbing, while the fourth was trying desperately not to join him. Nadia stood beside Adrian with a cloth in one hand, fresh red-black blood still staining her lips.

Her expression was colder than I was accustomed to seeing, and that alone told me more about what had happened than the condition of the prisoners ever could. Nadia was gentle by nature, but gentleness had never meant weakness. She disliked cruelty, unnecessary pain, and especially using Blood Memory on unwilling victims unless she believed the circumstances genuinely deserved it. Apparently, these men had earned that distinction several times over. She looked toward me as I entered.

"Mother." Even after nearly a century, hearing that word from her still touched something old and strangely tender inside me. My attention moved toward the blood on her mouth.

"What did you find?" Nadia nodded toward the prisoners. Adrian slowly removed one glove as he answered for Nadia, his calm tone making the list of offenses feel even uglier.

"Everything has been confirmed. They're guilty of drugging, assault, coerced feeding, and repeated offenses at other establishments before they came here. They believed Vaust Royale was too busy to notice them." A sound of disgust escaped Celeste beside me as I studied the four restrained vampires more carefully. None of them were particularly impressive. If someone intended to violate my rules inside my home, the least they could do was be interesting enough to justify interrupting my evening.

The first vampire lifted his head. Blood ran freely from his nose, yet desperation quickly overcame whatever pride he had left.

"Lady Vaust, please. We didn't know those women were under your personal protection." I held his gaze for a long moment, letting the silence stretch just enough for him to realize how badly he had misjudged the situation. Whatever comfort he thought that excuse might earn him vanished almost immediately.

"They were inside my establishment." His throat moved nervously.

"We didn't kill anyone." Celeste smiled. There was nothing warm about it.

"Oh," she murmured.

"He thinks that's where the line is." The vampire flinched. Adrian placed his glove neatly on the table.

"They used charm-laced drugs. Security recovered residue from four drinks and three rooms. Two victims were found before the assaults could progress further, and Nadia confirmed five previous victims this month outside Vaust Royale." Nadia lowered her eyes for only a moment, her fingers tightening around the cloth as she fought the urge to wipe her mouth again. It was not the blood bothering her, but the memories she had been forced to see through it. That told me enough. My attention returned to the prisoners.

"You entered my home, drugged my guests, fed from them, and hurt them. Now your defense is that you happened to leave them alive?" The sobbing vampire finally broke beneath the pressure.

"We're vampires," he blurted.

"Feeding is natural." I moved before he could finish speaking. One instant I stood several feet away, and in the next my hand was wrapped around his throat with enough force to crack the chair beneath him. The room fell completely still, including Celeste, which said more about the sudden shift in my mood than anything else could have. I leaned closer, holding the vampire's gaze until he could see exactly how little mercy remained behind mine.

"Do not mistake appetite for permission." His mouth opened, but no sound escaped. That was better. I released him, and he collapsed back against the ruined chair, trembling hard enough to make the restraints rattle. Nadia watched in silence, her expression unreadable, while Adrian simply stepped aside. He did not need to ask what I intended to do with them. He already knew. That was why he had kept them alive for me.

"Names?" Nadia glanced toward the first prisoner.

"Darius Vale." My head turned slowly. The vampire stiffened immediately.

"Vale?" He swallowed. Celeste's eyebrows rose.

"That's unfortunate."

"Any relation?" Nadia's mouth tightened.

"Distant. His bloodline comes from one of Duke Edmund Vale's illegitimate descendants, sometime after Stonehaven fell." For a moment, the room seemed to recede as the past surfaced with uncomfortable clarity. I remembered the balcony, the flash of a knife, Malcolm's throat opening beneath the blade, and Vera's scream cutting through everything that followed. Duke Vale had eventually lost everything before joining the grave he deserved.

And now, after all this time, another parasite stood in front of me carrying a decayed fragment of that name. A slow smile touched my lips. Darius Vale began to shake.

"Bloodlines are fascinating things. Sometimes… they carry strength or talent. Occasional beauty. Then, every so often, a family manages to produce the same mistake." Celeste pressed a hand over her mouth as I glanced her way. She was clearly trying not to laugh, but the amusement in her eyes made it obvious she was losing that battle. Adrian remained focused on the prisoners.

"The other three belong to his coven. None have notable lineage." I sighed.

"Worse and worse." One of the nameless vampires panicked.

"We can pay." My attention shifted toward him. He immediately rushed to continue.

"We have accounts, assets, and territory. We can compensate the victims. We can compensate House Vaust." Celeste stared at him in open disgust.

"How generous. He wishes to purchase a soul after spending his own."

"I didn't mean…"

"Yes, you did." Nadia's voice was low. That made it land harder than shouting ever could. The room fell silent as she stepped forward, her eyes glowing faintly from the blood memories still moving through her mind.

"You meant it every time," Nadia told him.

"Gifts when money wasn't enough. Threats whenever that failed. You called it cleanup." The vampire went pale, but by then my attention had already begun to drift. I found myself looking around the room, suddenly aware of who was missing. Rowan was somewhere else in the city, while Malcolm and Vera were most likely off enjoying another one of their disgustingly healthy dates. Once, I would have mocked them for it. Now the thought only reminded me of the one person who still had not returned. Akane…

My gaze settled on the prisoners again, though my thoughts remained elsewhere. After so many years of waiting, the anticipation of her return had become a constant presence in the back of my mind, surfacing at the most inconvenient moments. I turned back toward Adrian.

"The victims?"

"Safe and being treated. Their memories have been preserved if they choose legal action. We've also offered compensation, medical care, and removal from public records where necessary."

"Well done." The four vampires watched me as the truth of their situation finally settled in. They might not have understood exactly what was about to happen, but they understood enough to know this was no longer a negotiation. They were waiting to hear their sentence. The vampire who had spent the entire time fighting back tears finally gathered enough courage to speak.

"You can't simply kill vampires from another coven. There are agreements." I tilted my head.

"Are there?" His eyes immediately darted toward Adrian. Adrian's expression remained solemn. Celeste, on the other hand, smiled brightly.

"Technically, yes. Several pages' worth, actually, complete with far too many signatures and an impressive amount of boring legal language." Relief flickered across the vampire's face.

"Then you know…"

"They cover feeding disputes," Adrian interrupted evenly.

"Territorial misunderstandings, accidental deaths, and unauthorized conversion attempts. They don't protect predators who drug guests inside Vaust Royale." Celeste nodded.

"They especially don't protect idiots. That clause is spiritual rather than written." I approached the table and picked up Adrian's discarded glove, holding it out to him without a word. He accepted it just as quietly, and once it was back in his hand, I turned my attention fully toward Darius.

"Darius Vale." He flinched at the sound of his full name.

"You and your coven will lose every asset you possess within Ravenport. Every property, account, hidden room, and blood den will be taken. Adrian will find them, Nadia will confirm them, and Rowan will watch anyone foolish enough to interfere." One of the other vampires began trembling even harder.

"As for the four of you, you chose to feed like animals while hiding behind civilization. Civilization will no longer protect you." Darius struggled against the restraints.

"Please." A faint smile touched my lips.

"No." Celeste's expression softened into that particular look she wore whenever she agreed with me completely. Beside her, Adrian calmly pulled his glove back on while Nadia stepped away from the table, and the guards outside straightened as if they already knew what was coming. With the decision made, I turned toward the door.

"Adrian."

"Yes, Mother?"

"Make an example of them." Darius began screaming before anyone had even touched him, which was premature but understandable. Celeste fell into step beside me as we left the room, and the heavy door sealed behind us just as the first real sounds of his punishment began. The corridor felt quieter once the noise was muffled behind reinforced walls, though never truly silent. Corrections rarely were. Celeste exhaled slowly as some of the tension finally left her shoulders.

"That was uglier than usual."

"Yes." Her expression remained troubled.

"I hate when vampires use hunger as an excuse."

"So do I." Her gaze shifted toward me, and I understood immediately what she was thinking. Hunger had been waiting for me from the moment I awakened as a vampire, and few creatures alive understood its pull better than I did. It could ache until concentration became difficult, burn through the throat and stomach, and narrow the entire world down to nothing but pulse, warmth, blood, and need. My family understood it too. None of us were innocent creatures pretending hunger made us something else.

Feeding and killing were simply parts of what we were, and occasionally, there was far more enjoyment in both than polite society would ever be comfortable admitting. The difference was choice. Hunger did not decide who suffered because of it, and when that restraint finally disappeared, it was directed toward people who had already given us a reason to stop caring about mercy. If we were capable of making that choice, then so were they.

Being a vampire did not erase responsibility simply because restraint was difficult. Hunger could explain an impulse, but it did not excuse drugging someone, taking away their ability to resist, and then hiding behind instinct afterward. Perhaps that was a moral line drawn in more shades of gray than most people would find comfortable. I could live with that. Hunger had never been my master, and I refused to accept it as an excuse from anyone else beneath my roof.

Celeste quietly slipped her hand around my arm, and I allowed it. For several steps, we walked together through the black corridors beneath Vaust Royale, passing cells filled with people who had learned too late that my hospitality came with boundaries. Eventually, Celeste looked up at me.

"You know," she murmured after a few steps, "you really do look beautiful today." I closed my eyes.

"Celeste."

"What?" Her voice carried entirely too much innocence.

"I wanted to end the evening on something pleasant."

"We just sentenced four vampires." I had never explicitly ordered their deaths, but Adrian knew me well enough to understand what making an example of them meant. None of those four were leaving Corrections alive.

"And now I'm balancing the mood." I looked down at her, finding absolutely no shame in her expression.

"You're impossible."

"I know." Celeste rested her head lightly against my shoulder, apparently taking the accusation as a compliment.

"You still let me do this." My eyes narrowed slightly. Most people would have known better than to cling to me after deliberately testing my patience. Celeste, somehow, had made a habit of it.

"You're taking advantage of my tolerance."

"Affection," she corrected.

"Tolerance," I retorted. Celeste tilted her head just enough to look up at me.

"And yet you keep letting me get away with it."

"That's because removing you every time would become exhausting." Her smile widened.

"So I've worn you down."

"Don't sound proud of that."

"I'm extremely proud of that." I looked straight ahead, refusing to encourage her any further. Celeste settled more comfortably against my shoulder, clearly interpreting my lack of resistance as another victory. I sighed. She was impossible.