The Consort's Fate

Chapter 9

Douglas huffs a trite laugh. "Coming from the most powerful being I know."

"My only true power is having the strength to hold on to whatever shreds of humanity reside within me," I confide. "The part of me that's vampire is dark. It's a cruel predator. Today is the first time I've truly submitted to it, to that side of me. He consumed me, and you saw the result of that choice."

I shift my gaze, staring at the oak dinette. Now bare of a runner, the natural wood bares its true form before us – riddled with beautiful chips, divots, and crevices of imperfection.

"I don't know your past, Finn," Douglas consoles me. "But I know you. Even if you're wholly vampire, there's humanity in you. There is. I've seen it with my own two eyes."

"Humanity doesn't exist in vampires," I argue. "You know that."

Douglas pops his shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. "According to Mr. Primary, anyway. But he also believed vampires were pretty much extinct. Turns out, that's not true either."

His words are biting as he replays the day's destruction. The loss. The bloodshed.

"Here we are!"

Maggie reappears, bringing us a bounty of food splayed across a silver platter. It triggers a memory of living in the Fortress. Every night, a packet of blood was delivered to my chambers on a tray similar to this. Every night, for months. There was never a note. Never a clue.

Overtime, Reyo confessed that it was his doing. He explained that I needed my strength and blood was the easiest way to get it to me. I needed to keep up appearances with the rest of the Secondary population, though. If they witnessed me drinking only blood without the supplement of food as sustenance, they might start to wonder. The rumors would continue to spread. Reyo could have none of that.

Maggie offers me a metal goblet filled with blood. Unlike the tray, this piece is weathered, with small bits of rust collecting at the bottom. There's something nostalgic about it, to see the change forced onto its state of being beneath the pressure of Time's hand. Something nostalgic, indeed.

"Not many humans have fresh blood like this on hand," I note aloud.

I bring the cup close to my nose, breathing in the scent of human blood. It's not tainted with the decay of Secondary blood, and it is just as fresh as the blood I received in the Fortress. It can't be more than a day old.

"And from what I've heard during my travels, purchasing such quality product is not cheap."

Accusation poisons the words, passively chiding her of whatever means she used to acquire it. She's already guilty of assisting in plotting and capturing her sworn leader's second hand. Stealing blood, or killing to acquire it, don't seem like such far-fetched ideas.

Besides, Douglas and I are in a precarious situation, and I need answers to survive. Before today, I didn't truly believe I was in danger of being captured. I certainly didn't believe vampires existed to this degree, either. I need a strong, mental footing - an even playing field - to keep us safe.

Maggie loosens a breath and glances down the hallway a second time. Douglas senses her discomfort and clears his throat, reaching for a napkin and setting a hand pie into it.

"Thank you for this," he says to Maggie, nodding his appreciation before wincing at the pain.

Her eyes follow the movement. "I never thought things would turn out the way they did today. We hadn't planned – "

"But you knew it was a possibility," I argue. "Why else bring in such heavy artillery for a simple capture?"

Maggie caves into herself, and Douglas gives me a pleading look. There's no hostility or anger coming from her emotions, only genuine sorrow, and shame.