Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

Clearing his throat, he turns his face to me, and I inch backward. He has an angry look like Daddy gets. I squeeze my kitten tight in my arms, frowning.

“They’re my sons. Noah and Remi.”

Noah and Remi. I like those names. I wonder if they’ll want to be my friend. Maybe they’ll want to hold Midnight.

“You’re to stay away from them.” His words are firm, like when Daddy tells me it’s bedtime. My tummy does that twisting again, hurting. I’m really, really hungry.

Midnight licks my face, his tongue rough against my sore cheeks. “Why?” I choke on my words. My mouth feels like my kitten’s tongue. I’m thirsty too.

The man looks away toward the door again, twisting the knob.

“Because they won’t be pleased you’re here. You’re to stay out of their way once they get home, do you understand?”

I want to ask where they are and why I have to stay away from them.

“Freya?” he booms my name, making me jump, nearly dropping Midnight. My head bobs up and down.

“Good.”

He pulls the door open, and a lady comes inside, jet black hair like Midnight’s, pulled back into a braid. I like when Mama braids my hair. She smiles at the man, her lips thin, lines around her eyes like grandpa. When she looks at me, her smile goes away. Maybe she can see I’ve wet myself. The black dress she has on wouldn’t show pee if she wet herself.

“Freya, this is Dominque,” the man says, tilting his head to watch me. I don’t like them both looking at me.

“Hello, Freya,” the lady says. Her voice is different from mine. Mama calls that an accent.

I hold a hand up to wave hello.

“I’m going to get you some clothes to change into, then I’ll re-dress your bandage and fetch you some food, okay?”

The man nods his head to me. I know it means I should reply, so I copy him and say, “Okay.”

“Good.” She turns and leaves.

“It’s going to take some adjusting, but with time, you’ll get used to your new life here.” He places the picture of his sons against his chest.

Re-opening the door, he leaves too, closing it behind him. There’s a soft click then louder clicking.

Placing Midnight down, I walk to the door. The ball handle is almost too big for my little hand, so I use both and twist, trying to open the door. It doesn’t budge. He locked me inside.

Like Midnight, I can’t leave this room either.

Two

Freya

Dominque frowns down at me, her lips in a thin line. She looks silly. “Your shirt is on inside out, Freya,” she tuts, pulling the material over my head, turning it the right way before putting it back on. She’s not gentle like Mama. I miss Mama.

Midnight wraps his body around my legs, meowing. I think he misses Mama too. “Shoo,” Dominque says, moving him away with her foot. He runs away, going under the chair in the corner of the room. She doesn’t like him. I don’t think she likes me either. She brings me clothes and food, and sometimes she brings things for me to draw on with colored pens, but she doesn’t stay long or answer my questions about when I’ll see Mama. She just says what the man said all those days ago.

“You don’t have a mama.”

“Let’s brush your hair now.” She pats my shoulder. I hate it when she brushes my hair. I don’t know why it even needs to be brushed. She locks the door when she leaves and no one else comes to see me, not even the man from before. It’s been lots of sleeps since I first came here. I’m bored of this room. I like looking out the big glass door at the trees. There’s a balcony out there I want to go on, but that door is locked too.

“It’s a special day today, Freya. Mr. Remington wants you to have dinner with him,” Dominque tells me, her voice softer than before.

I fidget with my hands as she tugs and pulls my hair into a ponytail. “Would you like that?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug, rubbing my eyes. Is Mr. Remington the man who brought me here?

“You’re to be on your best behavior. You’ll do as he asks and remember your manners.” Manners are what she’s been teaching me. She didn’t like the way I ate my food. Said it wasn’t ladylike. I don’t know what that means. I’m not a lady, I’m a little girl.

“Are you ready?” She swivels me around, looking at my hair, then licks her thumb and wipes my cheek. It’s so gross, I want to stamp on her toe.

“Can Midnight come?” I ask when she’s finished smearing her spit on my face.

“No.”

Taking my hand, she opens the bedroom door. My belly flips over when she tugs me out toward some stairs. The carpet is soft under my feet. The walls are tall with lots of windows. My mouth pops open when we pass lots of rooms, all giant-sized, then another set of stairs. This place was like one of those houses I saw on TV. A mansion.