Empire of the Vampire (Empire of the Vampire, #1)

by Jay Kristoff

Even the greatest of fools can’t deny the existence of evil. We dwell in its shadow every day. The best of us rise above it, the worst of us swallow it whole, but we all of us wade hip-deep through it, every moment of our lives.

‘Too much hate will burn a man to cinders, Chevalier.’ ‘Oui. But at least he’ll die warm.’

‘There’s no misery so deep as one you face by yourself. No nights darker than ones you spend alone. But you can learn to live with any weight. Your scars grow thick enough, they become armour.

Gabriel tapped an empty leather pouch at his belt. ‘Behold the purse in which I keep my fucks for what you think of me.’

‘I fucking hate potatoes.’

‘Everyone has an empty place inside,’ Gabriel sighed. ‘You can try to fill it with whatever you like. Wine. Women. Work. In the end, a hole is still a hole.’

‘I drank to forget. ‘I drank to feel, see, hear nothing.

‘It’s only in faerie tales that everything works out for the best with a magik spell or a prince’s kiss. It’s only in storybooks some little bastard picks up a sword and wields it like he was born to it. The rest of us? We have to work our arses off. And we might not ever taste triumph, but at least we dared to fail. We stand apart from those cowards whispering on the sidelines about how the strong did stumble, while never daring to set foot in the ring themselves. Victors are just folk who were never satisfied being vanquished. The only thing worse than finishing last is not beginning at all. And fuck finishing last.’

But finally, she exhaled a sweet narcotic cloud into the dark beyond the glass. And she spoke then, the warm blur in her bloodshot eyes belied by the steel in her voice. ‘“I’m no princess. I’m a fucking queen.”’

I got down on one knee. And I took her hand. And again, I brushed my lips against her knuckles. ‘“Please, Majesty.” ‘“Majesty?” she scoffed. ‘I shrugged. “You’re a fucking queen, remember?”

‘A life without books is a life not lived.

“What a world this would be, were it not held wholly and solely in the grip of stubborn old men.”

‘Music is a truth beyond telling. A bridge between strangest souls. Two men who speak not a word of each other’s tongues may yet feel their hearts soar likewise at the same refrain. Gift a man the most important of lessons, he may forget it amorrow. Gift him a beautiful song, and he shall hum it ’til the day the crows make a castle of his bones.’

It’s in silence we know ourselves, vampire. It’s in stillness we hear the questions that truly matter, scratching like baby birds on the eggshells of our eyes. Who am I? What do I want? What have I become? Truth is, the questions you hear in the quiet are always the most terrifying, because most people never take the time to listen to the answers. They dance. And they sing. And they fight. And they fuck. And they drown, filling their gullets with piss and their lungs with smoke and their heads with shit so they never have to learn the truth of who the fuck they are. Put a man in a room for a hundred years with a thousand books, and he’ll know a million truths. Put him in a room for a year with silence, and he’ll know himself.’

‘The only thing worse than a fool is a fool who thinks himself wise.’

‘“Fuck,” I sighed. ‘“Fuuuck,” Dior said. ‘“… Fuuuck?” I asked. ‘“Fuuuuuuuuck,” he nodded.

‘“A life without books is a life not lived.”

Your past is stone, but your future is clay. And you decide the shape of the life you’ll make.”

‘“Get dressed,” Dior spat. “Can’t have lil’ Gabriel flapping about while we’re running for our lives through a nunnery.” ‘“… lil’ Gabriel?” ‘“Fucksakes, just get dressed!”

‘“My wife used to tell me hearts only bruise. They never break. I don’t know if I believe that any more. I know this world is cruel. That saints and sinners suffer one and the same. I know every time you give a piece of yourself to someone, you risk them breaking it. I know there are some wounds that never truly heal, and sometimes all that’s left of people are their scars. I know time eats us all alive.”

Hold onto that fire inside you, girl. Because it makes you shine. And once it goes out, it goes out forever. Know you’ll make mistakes. Understand that it will bruise – hell, it might even break. But don’t lock it up inside your chest.”

But it’s a fool who looks with more fondness to the days behind than the ones ahead. And it’s a man drenched in defeat who sings that sad refrain; that things were better then.