Zoe Perrenoud - Bloodlender

BLOODLENDER

BOOK I OF THE BLOODLENDER TRILOGY

Zoe Perrenoud

Bloodlender

Print edition ISBN: 978_99987_893_1_9

E-book edition ISBN: 978_99987_893_0_2

Copyright 2021 Zoe Perrenoud. All rights reserved.

Cover design by Fay Lane.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organisations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.

To Elio and Lyria

CONTENTS

The day my father was murdered, I made him a promise.

Not that I knew something was going to happen to him. None of us did. We had lunch at a bistro by the opera house. Roast chicken and chocolate mousse. He tried to hold my hand on the way home, but I told him I was too old for that. Maman was in one of her moods, marching ahead like we didnt even know each other.

Whys she mad at us? I asked Papa.

He sighed. No reason. Best to leave your mother alone when shes like this.

But she hates it when I get mad. How come she gets away with it?

Because its important we keep her happy.

I dont care if shes happy.

Papas gaze hardened. You dont mean that.

I did mean it, with a ten-year-olds flair for the dramatic, but he sounded disappointed, so I said I was sorry. Let him take my hand and squeeze it hard.

Sophie, promise me youll always mind your mother, he said. Promise me youll keep each other safe.

An odd request, but Papa said strange things sometimes. I gave him my word so we could hurry up and go home. I didnt think about it again until after he was gone, when the concept of safety no longer existed and the notion that my mother might protect me against anything made me want to laugh and scream at the same time.

We fell apart in different ways over the next six years. While I struggled to fill the hole in my heart, Maman acted as if Papa had left us of his own accord. She stopped saying his name and channelled her grief into a tight-knit set of rules designed to control my every waking hour. No more birthday parties. No more school plays. I had to text her as soon as I got out of class and again when I boarded the bus home. She knew every timetable by heart, every number in my phone. I argued and cursed and slammed my bedroom door more times than I could count, but I never broke my promise. I toed the line as close to the edge as I dared.

One day , I told myself. One day, shell have to let you go.

Rain splattered the windowpane of my bedroom. With a wary glance at the clouds outside, I pulled on the only dress I owned, a simple navy piece with deep pockets. I knew what I wanted to see in the mirror. A pretty mouth brought to life with a practised slash of crimson lipstick. Tousled curls bouncing around a pair of tanned shoulders. Sleek black fabric without a single crease of excess material to hide behind, but it wouldnt matter because my hands wouldnt be shaking, would they?

Instead, the chest of the girl in the mirror rose and fell. Good luck with that , she seemed to say. I snapped a pic, sent it to my best friend Mariam, and played with an old tube of tinted lip gloss while I waited for a reply. Seconds later, my phone rang.

You already know what I think, Mariam said.

Its the best I can do.

Oh, Sophie. Come on .

An edge crept into my tone. Im talking about the dress.

Well, Im not.

Erics a nice guy. Didnt we agree youd be happy for me?

Mariam ignored me. What does your mum say?

I checked my watch and stuck my head into the corridor. Silence, save for the ticking of the kitchen clock downstairs. She hasnt come home yet.

But its seven oclock.

I know.

I did know. A part of me had been aware of the odd lack of movement inside the house, but Id kept dragging my thoughts back to Eric and what might or might not happen tonight. You mean, if those pockets dont get in the way? My stomach filled with butterflies, immediately squashed by the mental image of my mother lying face-down in a ditch somewhere.

Shell be back soon. I kept my voice steady. Shes driving me to the cinema.

Wow. Mariam sounded genuinely impressed. Generous.

She wouldnt let me go otherwise.

I looked at my watch again. I wanted to hang up and go downstairs and eat something before Maman came home, even if arguing on an empty stomach was easier. Shed pretend to forget, or find some excuse, but I wouldnt let her. Not this time.

My fingers gripped the phone. I need this, Mar.

A pause, followed by a small sigh. I know.

I wont do anything stupid.

I know.

We left it at that. She didnt wish me luck and I didnt mention the condom hidden away in my bag. Id bought it that morning from the vending machine in the girls toilets, heart racing the whole time. I wasnt going to use it. I just wanted to have it. I wanted to be one of those girls who has one just in case , because just in case implies theres at least a chance. One day. Maybe.

But not tonight, with my eleven oclock curfew. Not with Maman breathing down my neck and down my phone, which I wasnt allowed to turn off anyway, not even inside the cinema.

Maman, who hadnt come home.

I settled at the kitchen table with a plate of bread and cheese, out of habit rather than hunger. Fourteen text messages and six attempted calls later, I still hadnt eaten anything.

Where are you? I muttered.

The hands of the kitchen clock moved at the pace of a cat stretching first one way and then the other, evading its owners hand. The film started in half an hour. You should text him. But what if Maman walked in? Eric wouldnt have to know how close Id come to cancelling.

I tried calling her again. Nothing.

Ten excruciating minutes passed. Then five more. With shaking fingers, I pulled up Erics number. Maybe he wouldnt answer. If I could leave a message

Hey. The sound of his warm voice sent a shiver across the back of my neck. Where are you?

I swallowed hard. At home.

Why? The films about to start.

My mums not back. Shes supposed to drive me.

Eric groaned. Youre sixteen years old, Sophie. Take a taxi.

You dont understand. I cant just

I already paid for the tickets.

Silence stretched between us. He was right. Of course, he was. The girl with the bright lipstick and the black dress the girl who carried that condom just in case she wouldnt think twice. My foot twitched, but I didnt get up. Instead, I willed Eric to say the right thing. Part of me wanted him to tell me to stick to my mothers rules. That doing so wouldnt make me weird, or childish, or weak. When he didnt, I sighed and said the words Id been so desperate to avoid.

I dont think Im going to make it. Im sorry, Eric.

Forget it, he muttered. See you at school.

The line went dead. There. Over before anything could happen. For a few glorious days, Id let myself believe someone cared. A boy could like me in spite of my plain wardrobe and bookish tastes. Me, the girl who wore dresses with pockets. The girl with the dead father and crazy mother.

The freak.

I closed my eyes against the sting of tears and felt it then. A faint buzz beneath my skin. A crackle, as if someone had sparked an ember in my blood. It had been happening a lot lately, whenever Maman and I couldnt agree. I reached for a slice of cheese and took a vengeful bite, hoping to calm my nerves, and gagged on the saltiness. The streetlamp outside our house blinked on and filled the kitchen with sallow light.