The Immortal Rules. Julie Kagawa

Kanin warned, as if reading my thoughts. “The humans of the Inner City might be better dressed and better fed, but only because they are useful. And what do you think will happen to them, once their master grows bored or displeased?”

      “I’m guessing they don’t have a retirement plan.”

      Kanin snorted.

      “And you want me to eventually live up there?”

      He glanced down at me, his expression softening. “Allison, how you live your life is up to you. I can only give you the skills you need to survive. But eventually, you will have to make your own decisions, come to your own terms about what you are. You are Vampire, but what kind of monster you become is out of my hands.”

      “What if I don’t want to live up there?” I gave him a sideways look, then focused on the tracks at my feet, watching them glimmer as we passed. “What if I wanted to … go with you?”

      “No.” Kanin’s voice was sharp, booming down the tunnel, making me wince. “No,” he said again, softer this time. “I would not suffer anyone to endure the path I walk. My road must always be traveled alone.”

      And that was the end of it.

      The subway went on, but Kanin took me down another, narrower tunnel, through a dozen more twists and turns, until I was completely lost. We passed under storm drains and metal grates, where I could look up and finally see the city above, gleaming and bright. But the streets seemed empty, abandoned. I’d been expecting crowds of people out walking the streets, unafraid of the night and the predators surrounding them. Maybe I would even catch a glimpse of a vampire, surrounded by his pets and thralls, strolling down the sidewalk. A vehicle passed overhead, making a manhole cover clink, filling the quiet with the growl of its engine. I gaped at the sight of a real, working car, but other than that, the city was as silent as the Fringe.

      And, as we continued under the quiet streets, the lights revealed other things, too.

      You didn’t notice it at first, being dazzled by the lights and the tall buildings, but the Inner City was just as broken and damaged as the worst parts of the Fringe. There were no rows of gleaming mansions, no buildings overflowing with food and clothes and everything you’d need, no cars for every family. There were a lot of broken, half-decayed buildings that looked slightly more taken care of than the rest of the city. There were flickering streetlamps and rusty cars and weeds growing through walls and concrete. Except for the trio of gleaming vampire towers in the distance, the Inner City looked like a brighter, well-lit version of the Fringe.

      “Not what you expected, is it?” Kanin mused, as we ducked into another cement tube and the lights faded above us. I followed, not knowing if I was vindicated or disappointed.

      “Where are all the people?” I wondered. “And the vampires?”

      “The humans who are awake are all working,” Kanin said. “Keeping the electrical grid up and running, managing the remains of the sewer systems, repairing broken machinery. That’s why the vampires look for those who are talented or knowledgeable or skilled and take them into the city—they need them to keep it running. They also have humans to man their factories, clean and repair their buildings, and grow the food needed for the rest of the population. The rest of them, guards, thralls, pets and concubines, serve them in other ways.”

      “But … everyone can’t be working.”

      “True,” Kanin agreed. “Everyone else is behind closed, locked doors, keeping off the streets and out of sight as much as they can. They are much closer to the monsters than the people of the Fringe, and they have just as much reason to be afraid.”

      “Wow,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Wouldn’t everyone back home be surprised to learn how it really is up there.”

      Kanin didn’t say anything to that, and we traveled in silence for a while.

      He finally stopped at a steel ladder that went up to a metal grate on the ceiling. Pushing it aside with the ease of vampire strength, he climbed through the hole and beckoned me to follow.

      “Where are we now?” I asked, trailing him down another long cement hallway. At the end of this one, we hit a rusty metal door, locked, of course, but Kanin put his shoulder to the metal and bashed it open.

      “We,” he replied, stepping back for me to take in my surroundings, “are in the basement storage of the city’s old museum.”

      I gazed around in wonder. We were standing at the edge of the largest room I’d ever seen in my life, a warehouse of cement and steel that stretched farther than even my vampire vision reached. Rusting metal shelves created a labyrinth of aisles, hundreds of narrow corridors that vanished into the back of the room. The contents of those shelves were covered in sheets or stored in wooden boxes, wrapped in a thick film of spiderwebs and dust. If I took in a breath I could smell the choking stench of mold and fungi, growing everywhere, but surprisingly, the shelves seemed fairly intact.