Chapter 43

Clara

“Hey,” Ronan said, “how would you like a tour of the Warren?”

I was a little nervous about going out among all the other vampires. But it would be a good idea to know my way around. And it might be a good distraction from everything I had just learned.

“That sounds nice,” I wrote.

“Great! Tracy, do you want to come with us or stay here and rest?” Ronan asked.

Tracy looked regretful. “I’d love to come, but I really am exhausted.”

“It’s daylight, love, you need your rest,” Ronan said. “Don’t you worry, I’ll take good care of our girl.”

Tracy smiled. “Okay. I’ll take a little nap, and we can talk more when you get back.”

“And you’ll see the healer tonight,” Ronan added. “You were in that dungeon a while.”

“All right, all right, I’ll see the healers. But I am taking a nap first! Anyway, they’ll be busy with Kieran.”

“Is he going to be all right?” I wrote.

I remembered how weak the vampire had been before I offered him my blood. Was he still unwell? Had I not offered enough? Or was there something wrong with my blood?

“He’ll be fine, the healers are confident he’ll make a full recovery,” Ronan said. “We’ll stop by later and see him. He wants to thank you in person.”

“He doesn’t have to,” I wrote.

“Sure he does, he might not have made it home if not for you,” Ronan said.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I wrote a short good bye message to Tracy and followed Ronan out into the twisting tunnels of the Warren.

“All right, so this tunnel is mostly where folks keep their personal quarters,” Ronan said. “There are a few more tunnels like it spread around.”

I nodded, looking around curiously. The small cavern rooms were separated out with thick curtains or makeshift doors fitted into the entrances. I saw that most of them were brightly decorated, giving a homey atmosphere to what might have been a dark, dank area.

“Now, that way,” Ronan pointed, “is the healer’s cavern. If you’re ever feeling hurt or sick, go there. If you forget the way, follow this symbol on the cavern walls.”

Ronan tapped a small, bright red star placed high up on the wall.

“We don’t have maps of the Warren,” Ronan explained. “But folks need to be able to find the healers no matter what. So we put that star to guide folks in. Just turn in every tunnel or entry that has one, and you’ll end up where you need to be.”

I nodded my understanding.

“That hallway leads to the smaller meeting hall,” Ronan points down another tunnel. “That’s mostly for business stuff, you’re not likely to need to go there. Now this way,” he pointed down a larger tunnel, “you’ll find a lot more interesting.”

“What’s there?” I wrote.

“Well, down here and to the left, we have the kitchens. They’re communal. There’s just not space for everyone to have their own kitchen, and well, ventilation would be a problem. You can come to the pantry any time you need a light snack.”

I could just take food any time? I was sure there was an allotment. I’d ask Tracy later.

“And here,” Ronan led me through a large pair of double doors, “is our main dining hall. Some folks prefer to take their meals to eat privately, but most of us like to eat together.”

The dining hall was a massive cavern with crystals embedded in the walls, magnifying the flickering torchlight so that the room was as bright as a daylight courtyard. There were two long tables flanked by benches, and several smaller tables scattered around. I saw a door leading to what had to be the kitchens on the far wall.

I wondered where the vampire’s nobles ate, because I saw no evidence of a high table or any kind a dais. Maybe they had a separate hall.

“And through here is the market,” Ronan said. “This is where most folks spend their time. We have a little schoolroom for the children, and the artisans and craftsmen gather to do their work. If you need something, you can just ask around. Odds are someone makes it or knows someone who does.”

“I have no coin, though,” I wrote.

“Neither do we,” Ronan laughed. “We aren’t that formal. We just trade for what we need.”

I didn’t understand, and wrote that down. Ronan nodded.

“I’ll try and explain. Follow me,” he said.

Ronan led me to another large cavern. This one was crowded with people. I saw a blacksmith working in a small alcove. Another vampire sat on a crate, carving something from a chunk of wood.

I passed a pair of women dipping lengths of cloth into colored water. To my shock, I realized that they weren’t vampires. They were werewolves!

I pointed them out to Ronan.

“Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know,” Ronan said. “It’s not just us blood suckers here in the Warren. We’ve got wolves, too. They’re mostly Rogues, those banished by the packs.”

I shuddered and stepped closer to the vampire. The only Rogue I’d ever met was the one who’d attacked me at the shack.

But hadn’t Ronan suggested that my own father was a Rogue?

“I’m guessing you never heard anything good about Rogue wolves or vampires, huh?” Ronan guessed.

I shook my head.

“Well, it’s okay to be nervous. Just give us a chance, huh? Don’t judge until you’ve actually spent some time with the folks around here. I think you’ll like some of them if you give them a chance.”

That didn’t seem like too much to ask, so I nodded.

“Great! Oh, here’s someone you’ll like. Her name is Jules. She’s our resident story teller.”

I followed where he was pointing to see a woman, a vampire, perched on a bench with a mass of brightly colored yarn arrayed around her. I saw her wiggle a pair of sticks, and realized she was knitting.

Of all things, I had never imagined a vampire would knit.

“Hey there, Jules,” Ronan said. “This here is Clara, we’re fairly sure she’s Tracy’s niece. She’s a guest. I was just explaining how we do trade without any coin.”

“Well hello there,” Jules said.

I waved.

“Oh, she’s shy, how cute.”

I tapped my throat and shook my head, then held up my notebook.

“Oh, my mistake,” Jules said. “You look cold. I’ve just about finished this shawl. Sit with me and listen to an old woman’s stories and it’s yours.”

I tilted my head, confused.

“That’s how we do things here,” Ronan explained. If you want or need something, you offer something else in trade. Either something you’ve made, or your time and effort. Jules here could, for example, ask you to help her wind her yarn into balls to make them easier to manage.”

I nodded. I used to do that for my adoptive mother. It would feel nostalgic to do it again.

“Well there we go, then,” Jules said. She patted the bench next to her.

I took up the yarn winder and got to work. Ronan settled cross legged at our feet.

“Did you have anything in particular you wanted to hear a story about?” Jules asked. “I like to talk while I knit, and you haven’t heard any of my stories.”

I thought for a moment, and then wrote, “I’d like to know about the Warren. How you all came here, and why.”

“Oh, that’s a good, long story,” Jules said. “All right, get comfortable and I’ll tell you all about us.”