Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“Well, we’d love to tell you,” Farmer Alfred says cheerfully. “But first, we need to get you some apple-picking gear.”
He and his wife disappear briefly into a small shed at the edge of the orchard and return with two sturdy baskets and a pair of long wooden poles. Each pole is at least six feet long, ending in a metal cup surrounded by four curved metal claws.
“See here,” Alfred says, demonstrating. He positions the cup around one of the apples, twists the pole gently, and the claws snip cleanly through the stem. The apple settles neatly into the cup. “Got one!” he says with satisfaction, like he was a fisherman hooking a fish. “And now you just lower it carefully into the basket and go on to get your next apple.”
He demonstrates, dumping the bright blue apple into Hanna’s basket.
His wife nods approvingly.
“It takes a bit of practice, but you’ll get the hang of it.”
“So—are you girls ready to get picking?” Alfred asks, then clears his throat. “Pardon me. I should have said ladies.”
“That’s all right—we don’t care about titles,” I say quickly. “And yes—we’d love to pick some apples.”
As I take the basket and pole from him, a warm, happy glow spreads through my chest.
I love new experiences…love learning how other people live. And this—standing in an Autumn orchard in a vampire realm, about to pick blood-apples with one of my best friends—this is something I never would have imagined for myself.
I’d never get to do anything like this in Tampa, I think. Even if they had apple picking no one would want to do it because it’s always so hot and humid.
But here in the vampire apple orchard, there’s no heat or humidity—no endless summer. There’s just crisp air, jewel-toned leaves rustling in the breeze, and the faint scent of apples and earth. I feel like I’m in Heaven.
We head deeper into the orchard, sunlight filtering through the branches, and for the first time since I was dragged into the Shadow Realm…
I feel something dangerously close to joy.
50
Jules
We spend the next stretch of time moving slowly through the orchard, the four of us drifting between the rows as though there’s nowhere else we need to be. Well, five if you count our bodyguard/carriage driver, who follows at a distance, his silver eyes watchful at all times. I can tell he takes his job and his promise to Lucian very seriously.
The old vampire couple turns out to be exactly the kind of people you want to spend an afternoon with—gentle, chatty, and endlessly patient. As we work, I learn that the farmer’s wife is named Marilla, which somehow fits her perfectly. She reminds me of my grandmother and has laugh lines around her eyes that make her look kind even when she’s not smiling.
“These poles are heavier than they look,” Hanna mutters, struggling to angle hers just right to catch an emerald green apple.
She’s not wrong. The wooden shaft is long and weighted at the end, and my shoulders ache faintly every time I lift it. I manage a few apples without incident, but Hanna keeps just missing—brushing the fruit, knocking leaves loose, and grumbling under her breath.
Finally, she gets one.
The metal cup closes around a blue apple with a satisfying snip, and when she lowers it into her basket, she lets out a triumphant laugh.
“I did it!” she says. “I officially picked a magical vampire apple!”
“Well done, my Lady,” Alfred says approvingly. He pulls a small folding knife from his pocket and flips it open with practiced ease. “Would you care to taste it?”
“Yes,” Hanna and I say at the same time. I’ve never had a blue apple and I like to try new foods.
He chuckles and slices the apple cleanly in half. Then he gives half to each of us.
I study my half with surprise. The inside is a shock of color—brilliant, almost neon orange, like a sunset trapped inside the fruit. Juice beads instantly along the cut surface, smelling sharp and bright.
I take a bite and the flavor explodes across my tongue—tart and sweet at once—almost citrusy, like a pink grapefruit and a Granny Smith apple had a baby. The texture is unmistakably apple-crisp, snapping cleanly when I bite down, juice flooding my mouth. It tastes delicious.
“Oh wow,” I murmur. “That’s… actually amazing.”
“Tastes like a really fancy apple crossed with a grapefruit,” Hanna says thoughtfully. “But without the bitterness.”
Marilla beams.
“Ah yes. Those are always a favorite with visitors.”
We move on through the orchard, sampling as we go.
The emerald green apples are next. Inside, their flesh is pale gold with faint green veins running through it like marble. They taste cooler somehow—fresh and clean, with a faint herbal note that reminds me of mint and cucumber. The juice feels lighter on my tongue—refreshing in a way I didn’t expect.