My throat felt tight, and my tongue felt thick and heavy. I swallowed repeatedly, though my mouth was almost dry. I was certain that, were I still living, my gorge would be rising.

The prisoner, whose name I had never learned, never woke from the knockout blow that Jerrow had given him. Even so, as the blood flow began to slacken from where I'd slit the side of his neck, he began to gasp in great convulsive breaths, and then to writhe against his bonds in jerky, rhythmic contraction of his entire body. He nearly wrenched free of Jerrow's grasp where the old man held him up over the wine caraffe in my hands.

"Don't drop it! Take it away, that's enough." Jerrow ordered sharply, and I drew the jug back in shaking hands. I knelt, staring in sickened fascination as the man lurched in his final death throes, the last of his blood pumping onto the stone floor of the basement. When I held the caraffe firmly by my side, Jerrow simply dropped the man's quivering corpse like a sack of potatoes. The old steward stood, inspecting his jacket and sleeves for blood splatter. There was none.

I, however, would need a change of clothes. Two great arcs of dark stains crossed the front of my vest, and the cuff of my right sleeve was speckled with dark red.

I blinked hard at my shirt sleeve, and the stains there were red no more, colorless as everything else in my new condition. I thought about things I had seen since waking, and in my memory most were colored much as I knew them to be in reality, where they didn't stand out strangely for their lack of color. How much of perception relies on preconception? I wondered.

I shook my head. I was trying not to think about what I had just been a part of. That was wrong. I looked up from a directionless stare to see Jerrow standing over me, a thoughtful look on his lined face.

He said nothing, so I asked, "What now?"

"Now," he rumbled, "You bring your Mistress her breakfast."

I thought about that for a moment. I had seen Lilly eat meals often enough in my time of employment with the Thrace household, and nothing had ever seemed out of the ordinary. However, Jerrow had hinted that there had been some strange... manipulation, or effect, upon my perception in that time to keep me from noticing other oddities. I inquired, "Does she take any other food? I... seem to recall..."

"She'll have her usual breakfast. And you'll need to pour that into another pitcher. An unbroken one."

"Of course." I said, and rose carefully to my feet so as not to spill. "What about the.. prisoner?" We both looked to the remains of the mercenary. Where his mutilated face wasn't covered with blood it was as pale as marble. Exsanguinated.

"Genly will take care of it." Said Jerrow in a matter-of-fact tone. It. It's not a man any more. Just dead flesh. Like me? A chill ran down my spine and I felt the hair on my forearms rise. I clung to the eerie serenity that dampened my natural feelings.

"Genly?" I asked, "Does he... bury our... victims... in the garden then?" I wondered at how many corpses might be found under the roses and blackberry bushes. How old is the Thrace baronage? How long have they been vampires?

"No. We'll talk about Genly later." Jerrow turned to head toward the basement stairs. As I followed, I said, "There's a lot we're talking about later, isn't there?"

The old man eyed me over his shoulder. "You've entered an entirely new world, Calor. You can't learn everything in an hour."

I shut my eyes for a few steps, attempting to order my thoughts. When I opened them I glanced back at the archway into the storage room. "Why did you cut his nose off?"

Jerrow paused at the bottom of the stairway, silent for a moment. He spoke softly but firmly. "Torture's not a great tool for getting the truth out of someone. Mostly they just tell you what they think you want to hear, or whatever they think will get you to stop." He turned to face me. "But still, you can learn some things. If you know what to look for."

I frowned at him in consternation. "But you didn't ask him any other questions. You just knocked him out right after." Again I glanced back to where the body lay. "You didn't really ask him much at all."

"I wasn't interested in his words. What I needed to know was who he was, and what he represented." Jerrow turned back to the stairs. "Pain, fear, and confusion don't leave much room for dissembling."

"Still..." I protested, "That last bit just seemed... malicious."

"Well that's because it was." Gaunt shoulders lifted in a shrug. "That rat-fuck son of a whore killed Davis. The boy was almost like a son to me. I should have done worse."

I cringed slightly at the venom in his voice, and remained silent as we ascended the stairs.

In the kitchen we found a new carafe, a drinking glass, and a plate of warm sliced ham with soft cheese and sourdough rolls. Neither Clara nor Beth were present. Again I found myself looking back toward the basement. Did they hear the screams of the prisoner while they worked? How could the other servants be unaware of what goes on in this house? But then... What of myself? I wouldn't have believed any of this.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I remained silent, cradling the life's blood of a man that I had murdered, while I followed Jerrow to Lilly's apartments on the north side of the manor. My thoughts swirled, trying to put some order to all that had happened. It all still felt softly surreal, distanced by an emotional wall that I was both grateful for and resentful of.

A wet blanket, bearing down on my natural feelings. Perhaps I would have panicked without it, but at the same time it is making it hard to appreciate the gravity of my situation. I just killed a man in cold blood, and I am going to feed his blood to a monster. I myself am a monster. Not figuratively speaking.

And it's not perfect. I remembered the moments when the pressure of calm in my mind had seemed to fray.

The door was open, and we went in to find the Baroness Thrace seated at a small table that she often used for private meals, one hand tapping a fingernail on the surface as she looked out a small window to the nearby woods. Beth was standing nearby, holding the damp dress folded over one arm and apparently waiting for her lady's attention.

Jerrow lightly cleared his throat as he set the plate of food on the table, but when that got no response he spoke.

"Lilly."

She looked at him. She started to look at me, but then turned her head to Beth.

"Throw it away, Beth. Or burn it, just get rid of it." I looked at the dress, and was suddenly acutely aware that I had not changed out of my own gore stained clothes.

"Shouldn't I..." Beth began but was interrupted.

"I really don't care what you do with it. It's yours now, do what you think is best."

Beth nodded, looking uncomfortable, then smile apologetically at the two of us and left the room.

I had never seen Lilly be so short with her maid servant, or anyone really. Not that I can remember, anyway.

"Lilly..." Jerrow began, in the tone of a father admonishing his daughter. He too was interrupted.

"Not right now, Jerrow. Please. I'm exhausted. I'm not in the mood. Is that breakfast? Good." She pulled the plate nearer, picked up a slice of ham and began to eat it.

Jerrow watched her with scowl that buried his features in a mass of wrinkles. He gestured at me to set the carafe down, and I did. I was unsure of my place here. Should I play the servant? I did not normally attend the lady at her private meals. I looked to Jerrow for guidance, but he was still frowning at Lilly, who studiously avoided looking at either of us while she ate.

"Shall I pour you a drink?" I asked, still holding the cup. No response. Jerrow grunted and gestured. I retrieved the carafe and poured.

When I set the glass of dark liquid next to her plate, Lilly stared glumly at it, chewing slowly. Then she sat back and looked at me silently for a few moments.

'I know why you're doing this, but I don't like it." I was confused at her words for a moment until I realized that she was speaking to Jerrow. The safest course seemed to be silence, and so I remained.

Jerrow, too had nothing to say to this.

Lilly's eyes flicked down to the stains on my vest, and lingered there. She took a slow, deep breath and sighed it out. "You're a bastard, Jerrow."

"My parents were married, my lady," Jerrow replied with a bit of ironic humor in his voice, "And we haven't got time to play nice. I know this isn't what we wanted, but this is what we have. Let's deal with it."

Lilly smiled tightly and humorlessly. She pointed to a chair near the wall. "Bring that over here and sit, Calor. I'm tired of looking up at you." I obeyed.

As I sat down at the table, Lilly lifted the cup and took a long, deep drink. She set the glass down more than half empty, squeezed her eyes shut, and shivered briefly. Then she picked up a piece of cheese and nibbled on it.

I had so many questions. It wasn't proper for a bodyguard to interrogate their employer. Even less so for a thrall to question their master, I imagined. So I waited, and looked out the window so as not to stare at her while she ate.

Daylight. Sunlight burns vampires.

So Jerrow had said. It had been their certain test of my status. I looked around the room, well lit by the morning light, but there was no beam or shaft of light entering the window. So the sun is not visible from this side of the building. That must be it.

I glanced back to Lady Lilly to find her studying me in turn, wiping her fingers on a handkerchief. "Sunlight?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

I blinked. "Yes..." I dragged the word out, hoping for an explanation without asking for one.

"Direct sunlight only," offered Jerrow, "And no, we don't know why that is either. Things just are as they are."

Lilly smiled at him over my shoulder, a hint of the kind young woman that I thought I knew.

"Alright, well. What have you told him so far? What do you need from me? Aside from..." She paused and cleared her throat, and I saw a brief flicker of emotion on her face as she fought to control her expression.

"I told him about our plans for him. Your plans for him."

She stared at the old man appalled, her mouth open in shock. I felt intensely uncomfortable, and turned my gaze to the tabletop. Apparently the emotional damper of my condition did not extend to cover chagrin.

"Why!?" She demanded. "What possible good does that..." She trailed off, apparently lost for words.

"He needs to know how it is. How vampires deal with mortal humans. He needs to understand that, to internalize it, fast. And you do too, my young lady." Again Jerrow spoke like a father to a misbehaving daughter. "People aren't, well, people. Not to you. They're tools, and they're food. There are exceptions, but you have to make those exceptions. And that's not a choice you should ever make lightly."

I brought a hand to my mouth, stroking my freshly shaved chin as I contemplated the now empty glass in front of Lilly. I'm not the only one with adjustments to make. Should that be comforting? I reached for the carafe, and Lilly watched but said nothing as I refilled her glass.

She did not take it, but let silence hang in the air as she stared at it, her hands on her lap.

"We have preparations to make," said Jerrow briskly, "And you should get some sleep. But first, Calor here needs his contract."

"Contract?" I asked, and Lilly looked confused for a moment too, but then her expression cleared. "Right. Contract. Do you have it?" She lifted her glass and drank again, repeating also the small shiver after.

"I do." The steward acknowledged, and produced a folded paper which he placed on the table.

Lilly set the glass down and unfolded the page, which turned out to be surprisingly long. This must be the 'script' Jerrow mentioned.

Lilly began to read, "Calor Reed, hear me now and obey me forevermore. These orders I give to you at this time supersede and supplant any others that may follow, where conflict arises, excepting only such cases where you can confirm without any doubt at all that my will in the matter is in contradiction to the commands you now receive. For any matter that...."