“You want me to order you around?” she asks, but she doesn’t seem entirely surprised by my suggestion. It seems to me that Pharisa correctly judged that her subordinates were controlled by a necromancer, though how she was so quickly able to judge as much I’m not quite certain. Are there no other means of betrayal?

I shake my head, considering carefully what words to use to explain what I want from Syr. All that I want from her necromancy is a means to deny my sire his hold over me. His red eyes still linger where I would rather them gone, and the idea that he could stride into my new life and pull me to heel as one might do to a dog only further cements my desire to be free of his influence.

Syr and the others, mercenaries that they are, are easily convinced of my want for freedom. Though the necromancer’s eyes shimmer with sympathetic concerns that I did not particularly want to inspire from her, she leans closer still and I must again worry about her intentions.

I cannot recall ever meeting a person so openly expressive before, not to mention that the emotions that she feels are all so simple and kind. Even with my cruellest admissions, she hasn’t once shown disgust or fear of me. Her warm sympathies only give rise to a shadow within me as I recall the last time I slipped into such affectations of affection.

Just as when I revealed my true self to Belle, a dark shadow of desire rises within my frozen chest, and I turn to address Syr beside me.

“Syr,” I stop her as she explains a detail of her power that I do not quite understand. A flash of my vampiric eyes visibly sends a shiver through her. “You should know the monster that you are dealing with. I am a vampire, and while you are certainly accustomed to dealing with the dead, I am different.”

Blinking for half a moment, I turn my eyes to her and look at her as I look upon my prey. It isn’t difficult, as I’ve wanted to know her taste for some time now.

She’s already consumed by a deep-set fright that hasn’t wavered even once since we’ve met in the foyer. It is the sort of taste that I can sometimes find in soldiers who rub at old scars. She is constantly checking her surroundings, looking for new threats and expecting a fight to develop at any moment. Though it would at first look like she’s forgotten her weapons, they are always there at reach, and it would take but a small moment for her to reach them. Atop that, I do not doubt that she is still powerful without them.

That anxiety lingers in the air as a sweet temptation, like the scent of cakes spreading out from the kitchens. I want to know the real taste of what has been taunting me this whole time. Is she smoky? Sweet? Sour?

How might my own efforts affect her flavour? If I scare her? Torment or allies, or something equally terrible will it sweeten her further? I want to know what it is like to draw her blood when she is shivering in the depths of despair and horror. I want to taste her blood as she loses the strength in her limbs.

I want to know her taste when she finally sees me as a monster.

“I am reborn as a killer. It is who and what I am, and I take pleasure in it,” I explain. The others in the room have readied themselves for a fight but restrain themselves. I expect that they understand my intentions in showing this truth to them, I am not about to kill them or bring them to harm, but I do need them to understand that this is who I am.

“I have hunted men and women before, stealing their lives in the most torturous of ways has been a pleasure for me. I have torn apart their flesh, capturing fragments of their souls within, so that they might be kept in the torment of their final moments for a while longer. The terror and pain that I draw out of them, that sweetens their blood, is like nothing you would ever understand. There is no elixir sweeter than that of a person on the verge of death, frightened of the fall they cannot escape.”

I lean toward Syr, the only one whose reaction can be described as subdued. She barely even seems affected at all, though my gaze should be powered by powerful magics. Perhaps the fright that resides deep within her has some effect of resisting the magic, much akin to how a drunkard can resist the effects of wine better than most others.

Investing more power into my eyes, I push her harder. Her taste draws me in as I imagine the flavour of the blood pulsing at her neck. Sweat lingers on her brow, her tan skin shimmering in the flickering flames of so many candles, as warmth washes from her. The warmth of the living.

Her scent, more than mere fright can describe, reminds me of something earthy and wild.

“Do not ever forget what I am,” I say, but she does not listen, stepping closer instead of away. Everything about her is that little more intense, her warmth closer, her scent burning against my senses, making my fangs itch with an uncomfortable wanting.

Is she going to offer herself?

She was so forward before, perhaps I miscalculated in pushing her like this. If she is truly trying to toy with me then I’m not sure how I should react.

I take in a short breath of air to taste her more clearly, my head thick with growing desires and warmth that somehow exists within the cold that I have concentrated inside. She doesn’t retreat from me, as would be natural.

The emotions painted clear on her face show little more than curious excitement, her fears buried so deep that they aren’t expressed as clearly as everything else. That curiosity takes on an element of playfulness, a confident smirk turning her lips upward, inciting movement from my mockery of a heart. As the dead organ shudders to life, it pounds the one time before shattering itself with the simple movement, reforming as my vampiric magics rapidly repair the injury.

“Do you want me to attack you?” I ask, but she doesn’t say a word, stepping closer still.

I pull away from her, the temptation is growing to be too much. Her allies have their weapons ready to use should I lose grip on my desires for even a moment, and I’m sure that is what inspires her to have so much confidence as she plants herself into my chair right beside me. It is a chair made for one, and to squeeze in beside me her entire body rubs against mine from shoulder to thigh.

What sort of madness has inspired her to draw so close as I’m making a threat against her life? Is it a show of force, to indicate that she will not be frightened by me no matter what I am? Or something else entirely? An attempt at flirtation, even? I simply can’t comprehend what is going through her mind.

“Ah, maybe don’t goad her,” the amused mercenary at the back of the room has the minimum measure of common sense necessary to make it through life.

How much more dignity will these people strip from me?

“It’s okay, she won’t do anything,” Syr says, pressing her elbow into my side. The warmth of the casual act lingers in the ice-cold flesh that she presses against. I intensify the frost magic that is coursing through my veins, but I do not think that she cares at all. “She’s not like the other vampires.”

Perhaps as a necromancer, she has some insight into me that I cannot see for myself, but how that might lead to her current actions I do not know.

“I’m just as much of a monster,” I warn her. Belle did not believe it until I showed it to her in detail, until the moment that she felt my hunger for herself and saw what I do to my prey. Now, she sees me as a person in need of being ‘cured’. I’m sure that it will be no different this time. She will understand at some point, and perhaps even using her necromancy she will try to correct me.

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“You’re cold,” she says, wriggling beside me. She doesn’t move from my side, instead, she’s pressing up against me as if to wash my cold away with her warmth.

“I am,” I reply. I understand that I should perhaps speak with a more diplomatic attitude, but it is difficult to find the right words to speak when my threats are answered with an unnatural friendliness.

Perhaps, she would accept me, as Vael does… Maybe this isn’t like what happened with Belle.

I shouldn’t linger on such hopeful thoughts. We are here for business and I’m sure that we will be separated soon enough, to press forward with such fanciful desires would only trouble any professional relationship between us and hasten her leaving. I must remain focused on the task at hand.

“There is something else we wanted to ask about,” Nadia, the warrior elf, says. Her expression aimed at Syr seems to be a warning, and it’s clear that she disapproves of the younger elf’s actions so far, especially in pressing me as she has.

“Speak freely, what you say here will be kept as secret. Assuming that my mind is not plundered by Aldramodore, that is,” I explain, nodding my head to her. Syr is still pressing against my side, her warmth a difficult distraction to ignore, though I’m not so amateur as to let this break me.

“What is your interest in æther wells?” Nadia asks.

“I do not follow,” I reply slowly, reading her expression, that’s not the answer that she wants from me, but I have no other to give her. “I know of what you describe. Places in the land, or ocean where the æther flows out of the earth below, but I have no interest in such places, as I understand even scholars are mostly finished with their vain attempts to study them.”

“So, there’s nothing special about them to you as a vampire?” she asks, leaning closer still.

“Not that I am aware of,” I shake my head. “I am not a scholar and you should already be aware that I’m estranged from the rest of the vampiric community. Whichever of their schemes you’ve crossed, I have no new knowledge that can help you understand it. I know of a young man with the soul of a scholar, he might have some thoughts and theories. He was quite taken by the nature of my ‘corrupted’ æther as he describes it.

“Have you encountered vampires trying to seize such locations?”

“Could they be trying to corrupt the æther of the world?” Theo asks, leaning closer and rubbing at his chin.

“I can’t imagine how,” I shake my head. “While certainly a horrifying thought should such a thing succeed, I do not think I could sink my fangs into the soil and make a vampiric continent or anything so ridiculous. As amusing as the attempt might be.”

Syr isn’t listening, as soon as this topic was brought up she’s turned her attention elsewhere, the frown on her lips tells me that it’s not a happy place.

“What about ancient ruins?” Nadia bursts out, Theo flinches, and I would guess that he was unprepared to share quite so much with me. Even Nadia looks ashamed of herself.

“I’m afraid that I cannot help you, my knowledge is limited to old fairy tales,” I explain. They could only be speaking of the ancient ruins from the extinct elvish civilisation, it is as long dead as the dragons themselves.

“You don’t know anything about it?” Nadia asks more from desperation than curiosity, as I’ve already destroyed her hopes for the latter.

While I know nothing that pertains directly to her issues, I still know more than they do. Until the night we crossed paths, they didn’t even know of vampires, so I do share what knowledge I have. They seem to want to know more about the vampires as an organisation than as a cursed existence, and I do have some inkling about Aldramodore’s agents.

The very nature of this city, and how the vampires act across boundaries that are otherwise unbroken, is evidence enough that there is still more happening behind the scenes. Their organisation is well known among the criminal elements such as Semi and her small empire, and Aldramodore directly intervenes with us nobles, usually in court or at formal balls, but now, also with violence as he’s proven to me personally.

Whatever it is that he wants, he is what connects this city as a whole, and if anyone could be said to be a true ruler, then perhaps it would be him. I’m certain that he has some level of influence within the royal castle itself, but even if it is in the role of a servant, I am forced to recall what Semi said to me.

The dragon that threatens to burn the town down, is never a genuine ruler, even if those who run the town bow and scrape to the scaled beast. Whatever it is that occurs in the castle it makes little difference to the rest of us, whether the royals control the vampires or vice-versa we will continue to suffer with no end in sight.

As I explain what I understand to the mercenaries they grow increasingly disturbed, with the exception of Syr who seems not to care at all.

“So, it is the guys in the big castle that are responsible for everything?” Syr asks, smiling cheerfully as if it is not some great and terrible discovery to learn that the core of the corruption lies in the heart of the very kingdom.

“Yes, and they are powerful beyond your understanding,” I say, shaking my head. “It is the reason that I intend to flee this city. Even Aldramodore himself, as terrible a threat as he is, is not reason enough for me to leave. We must go somewhere there is still potential for something good to grow. I refuse to be steward over a decaying corpse of something that could have once been greater.”

“To return to my earlier request. I will need you to give me orders, we must test how much influence you can have over me.”

“You’re willingly submitting yourself to Syr?” The mage asks, sitting forward in her seat as she grips her staff tightly. “You, a noble, would allow Syr to control you?”

“As I’ve already said, I have no intent of being made a slave,” I correct her, shaking my head. “If my circumstances were kinder than this, perhaps I would have simply avoided meeting her at all but, as I am, I am far too much of a risk to my people. I would not be made into a weapon against the people that I serve.

“I do not see you, Syr, commanding me to kill my own servants. Yet, the same I cannot say for my sire,” I explain. “There is little else that I know of that could possibly allow me some means to resist him, so I have invited you in the hopes that you would help me.”

“What order should I give you?” she asks, gripping my hand tight. A means to express her magic, that is all.

“We need to test the limits of your power over me,” I say. “If you could perhaps give me something simple to test your magic?”

“Ah… okay,” she nods firmly after a brief moment of hesitation. A look of conflict passes through her gaze as she considers what to order me to do, but as she settles her mind on something her magic passes through her hands and into me.

It is warm beyond anything I’ve ever felt, and pleasant like that of fresh blood running through me. Almost as if I’ve been incomplete in this life so far, the magic fills out the hollows and my mind is racing as I try to comprehend what that might mean.

Vampires are meant to serve.

What if it is not our sires that are supposed to rule us, but instead necromancers? How did the first vampire come about? Were vampires made by necromancers?

Her magic winds a path into my chest and around my heart, but I feel no compulsions just yet, though I listen closer for any whisper she might make. My flesh and body are desperately eager to obey.

My hands shake, though it can’t be fear. I should not feel fear anymore…

“Punch me,” her words vibrate with the power in my chest. It grips me tight and though I try to refuse her, I sit up straight and raise a hand as I’ve seen others do. I launch my closed fist at her with all the force that I can put behind the blow, twisting in my seat to make the violence land. The light drains my vampiric enhancements, but my strength is still not inconsiderable.

My fist hits her shoulder, but she doesn’t seem affected by it in the slightest, instead reaching out to catch me as I slide out of my chair.

“So, how was that?” She asks, smiling happily as I place my feet under me and repair my hair that has become dishevelled from the sudden attack. “Was that what you were after?”

“It was an… efficient test,” I say, straightening myself out. Her hands are still on my waist, holding me in place, though she lets me go a moment after. “It seems that you have the ability to overwhelm my own will.”

“It only worked because you didn’t fight back,” she says. “The other vampires I tried that on were able to resist me.”

I hide my frustration behind a smile.

I was fighting against her orders.

“In any case, I will need to formulate a series of orders that will help me to resist my sire should the time come that he attempts to do the same to me,” I say. “While I consider it, would you like to stay and train with me for a while? I’m certain that you will do well against my kind with some more experience fighting against us.”

“Is that alright?” Theo asks, stepping up from his chair. “You’ll happily train us in how to kill you?”

“I’ve trained my servants to the same ends,” I reply. “Quite simply, there is more to be lost by keeping such things secret. Besides, I also learn how to battle around those who are aware of my weaknesses. Vampires are not entirely without power, even when you know how to fight us.

“Though that being said, there is nothing to be gained from battling me while the sun is still above us, so if you wish for that, then I will ask that you stay until dark comes. So, you can stay the night if you’d like.”

“Then we’ll accept your offer,” Theo nods slowly, “Are we sparring in the evening?”

“As the sun dies,” I nod to him.

“Wait, what are we doing?” Syr stands, still a little too close to me.