It was another bright night. A Friday night. The town buzzed with late preparations for the morrow, for a festival was planned to celebrate the birth of a new prince. Of course, we had never seen the king, nor the queen, or any royal for that matter, but the day would be celebrated nonetheless, and everyone would raise their beers for our great and gracious Protector.

I had met up early with Raymond, some distance outside of town, in some light woods. He awaited me tranquilly, looking dashing in a blue cape held by a bronze pin as he leaned against a beech. He regarded me as I turned up, tunic and trousers, and my old and thick winter cloak.

“I got you this,” he said, spinning a longsword through the air to me, which I caught nimbly. He smiled approvingly. “This one is the real deal. Not a dull practice sword.”

“Fantastic. And worry not… I shall spare your face, but only since it is so pretty,” I taunted light-heartedly, “and I would hate to give you trouble chasing the skirts.” It was what Raymond did. He had two passions: breaking the hearts of mortal women and honing his terrific swordplay.

He barked a laugh, “even with a scarred face, I would have no trouble!”

“Probably not,” I conceded, given that he was an immortal, alluring predator and that they were not. I wisely chose not to air that thought, however. Raymond struck me as the kind of guy who was good sport, right until he wasn’t. There was a tipping point in there, somewhere, and I didn’t know it well enough to walk the line, so best not to get close to it.

Plus, I felt more comfortable not having him irritated as we spared. For he was in truth a terrific swordsman. He struck first, bolting forward with one behind his back in a show of effortless grace and power. I pushed it aside and then the dance began.

And we danced around the clearing like the immortals that we were. I compensated for my inexperience with careful footwork and sharp focus, while he coolly parried my clumsy attacks and dismantled my defence before stepping back to recommence.

Naturally, I could not walk the talk. Raymond was unbeatable. When he lost patience, he simply dashed forward and chopped the sword out of my hand. This was done by striking very close to the handle with extreme, concentrated force. One needed remarkable timing and precision. And every time, I never failed to smile or laugh in the face of defeat. It was simply, truly impressive to me and in the face of such excellence, I could only cheer.

“Such a clean riposte,” I exclaimed with awe. And I didn’t mind losing when I had no expectations of winning. In my mind, I was winning, in that I was learning. I would have beat the me from yesterday. Probably. Or maybe not. I’d done really well yesterday. Or maybe Raymond had been distracted.

And he didn’t mind giving pointers, or explaining movements or techniques, or footwork, but he was very selective with his compliments. Today, he was in a good mood, apparently. The sword spun in his hand as he smiled broadly, “a perk of experience. Your timing, however, is excellent, considering your lack of experience and skill.”

I had always been athletic. But I didn’t know I had good timing. Nice.

“Actually,” Raymond started again, “I am hosting a card game later. You may join.”

“A card game?” He didn’t strike me as the type. “With who?”

He grinned, “with our victims, my friend. Michael and Caterina share one, and I have the other. You’re free to bring one, if you want to put in the effort. You see, I’ve been working these two for some time, in the taverns.” Ah. A man of three things then: skirt-chasing, fighting and gambling.

I laughed to him, “sounds lovely. At your house?”

He nodded, and hesitated, “you may also invite Fetinja… if you want to.” In the last month, they had seen almost nothing to her. They had only briefly spoken when our hunts had crossed path. It was partly my fault. They had been wary of her since I had turned up covered in wounds and scratches to meet them the day following our meeting, and without her. I should have waited a few days, taken time to heal up. Now they probably thought her somewhat unstable. Which maybe wasn’t too far off the truth, but she wasn’t that bad at all.

It didn’t matter though, for Fetinja showed no interest in them. She had in truth voiced multiples times her displeasure at their continued presence, for the danger of the Old One's passing had come and gone, but I wanted them to remain. The company was appreciated, and Epernay would be colder and emptier without them.

“I will pass on the invitation,” I promised, “though she is not too fond of card games.”

“Fair,” Raymond said dismissively, and in a moment of cheerful insanity, he passed the sword to the left hand and moved en garde.

“Really? Now you are underestimating me.” I claimed confidently, sticking my sword into his face with a ferocious grin, “it is on!”

Yet though his blade was slow and unprecise, his footwork and insight carried the fight for him. We were evenly matched. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, the swords whirled through the night, and the forest watched intriguingly as the two foreign elements duked it out in its heart.

No one won. He couldn’t end the fight with his left hand, but I couldn’t defeat him either. Yet for me, it was the best fight we had had yet, and it had lit a competitive spark in my chest. “Next time,” I swore to him as we clasped hands, “next I’ll have you!” He grinned happily. I think he was excited at having found someone to practice with. Michael was apparently not a fan of swords, or weapons, or fighting in general.

I came back and pitched the evening to Fetinja who readily refused, of course, and she gave me the cold shoulder for joining it. But I didn’t think too much of it, and went to join the card game around midnight. She had decided to punish me every time I broke routine to join them, and so it was, but otherwise, we had wonderful times together.

Their house was thick and wide. Michael owned the property, having shamelessly bought it from the unsuspecting mortals for its fine wine cellar where they could sleep unbothered, and the large living room where they could all hang out. I had spontaneously visited for the first time to play chess with Michael, after a hunt, and I had been destroyed. He was sharp, and I barely knew the rules. Since, I came every so often for a few games. He was happy to teach, and often played with handicap. He’d take a knight or a bishop of the board before we began. He still won.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Today, however, the occasion was different. Caterina gave me a polite smile when I entered, she was busy arranging the dinner table’s seating. I still hadn’t talked much with her. But a week ago, she had smile to me for the first time, a faint, small thing, but coming from her it seemed immense. We had talked a few times but only of practical trivialities. Michael was very protective, and I think it pleased her. Maybe that’s what Fetinja wanted too.

Three people came after me, led by Raymond. I heard them laughing long before they knocked. Then Michael elegantly came whisking down the stairs, he cheerfully greeted me en passant before opening the door. Raymond was accompanied by an older man with a serious pot-belly, which he held dearly in one hand while lazily gauging us. A slightly younger version of himself, bald but fitter, came in after, followed by a young, clever-looking charmer. They all looked wealthy. Their disappearance would not go unnoticed, and there were three, not two, as they had promised. That bothered me too, but I could not stop this now. And they knew I wouldn’t tell Fetinja. It would only make trouble and create more distance between them. Damn.

After some brief, disinterested greetings, we settled at the table and cards were dealt. Caterina did not play, for women held no interest in such games, or so was the custom. She served us wine as was proper, as well as cheese which only the three invitees tasted.

It was actually amusing, watching these three hustlers bring out their coin and grow more and more panicked as their tricks fell on deaf ears. The immortals raked in coin, and the morons started sweating. Raymond was most eager in entertaining them, while Michael was cool but polite, and I was completely disinterested and bordering on rude. A quick examination of their minds told me they were no saints but this still struck me as reckless. There was a reason we prayed on criminals, for people did not think twice when their bullies disappeared, they carried on and gave God a grateful prayer. And the ones with real power paid no heed.

When Raymond tired of the game, he exchanged a look with Michael, who called Caterina with an angel’s, mellow-sweet voice, that mentioned he was thirsty. The tell. She came over, grabbed the young one’s hair and jerked his head back. With surprising brutality, all three were murdered and emptied of blood. Michael broke the old man’s neck swiftly, to avoid an awkward struggle, while Raymond ignored the flailing arms as he tore into the neck.

I looked away from the gruesome spectacle, having already fed. I was not squeamish, simply uninterested. It all felt so meaningless. Like Fetinja, I never played with prey.

But the night was not over. The corpses were pulled to the side, and laid into a corner. Caterina joined us at the table. Raymond’s eyes twinkled as he wiped his mouth and licked his hand. “And now,” he began suavely, “to the real part of the night.” He eyed me. “I present to you, our very dear Archibald, new friend of the family, our most dear tradition,” Michael snorted at this. Raymond behaved like a drunk. The blood had a way of getting us worked up. It made Fetinja and I lusting of each other.

Raymond continued, as he dealt cards, “the game is the same, but the stakes are much, much higher! Empty your glass, Archie!” My eyebrows shot up. “Our very livelihood is at stake!” He laughed upon seeing my face lit up with understanding as well as some reservation. “Come on! We are not out to dupe you, my friend, it is all in good fun! Here, to prove it!”

And he drew a nail into his wrist and blood trickled out. It filled half a glass before coming to a dripping half. To my surprise, Michael did the same with a chuckle, and even Caterina obliged tranquilly. They handed me their three glasses and watched me expectantly.

“You’re serious?” Especially Michael’s blood was enticing to me. He was as old as Fetinja, if not older.

“Come on! I am itching to taste yours,” Raymond said, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Alright,” I said, growing a claw from a nail to cut open my wrist but Raymond reached over fast like a viper and grabbed it to stay my hand. He shook his head with a shit-eating grin.

“No. Your blood, we must win fair and square. This is our welcoming gift to our new guest,” he said and pushed his glass towards me expectantly.

Alright then. In three deep gulps, I emptied three glasses full of warm, immortal blood. Their strength rushed into my veins and I nearly bounced into the ceiling in pure exhilaration with the energy that suddenly spiked in every fibre. Or, Raymond and Caterina’s blood gave me energy, while Michael’s flowed through me and made me think I could walk on clouds, so light and vibrant I felt.

Raymond laughed, “you best enjoy it! From now on, you will have to earn every drop!”

I threw myself into the game then. We played for hours. I probably gave twice as much as I got, for they knew the game better, and they were older, but I tasted Michael’s blood twice more, and Raymond’s almost a dozen. Caterina’s, five times.

Slightly light-headed, I walked the town with a brimming, satisfying buzzing in my belly, feeling like the king of the world. I found Fetinja reading a book, in her study, and without my usual care I poured the evening’s events unto her. She had frozen as I spoke, but then her expression took on a mix of amusement and irritation, I imagined she was torn between being angry at my irresponsibleness or delighted at my cheer.

“You got the better end of that deal,” she remarked neutrally, “Michael’s blood will strengthen you, yours will do nothing permanent for them.”

I smiled, “it did not taste half as good as yours,” I drooled, and she spent the rest of the night exasperatedly fending off my clumsy advances, but I continued, for I sensed some amusement beneath it, and I found it fun and playful.

In the morning, she changed. I greeted her with a smile as she woke up, but her brows furrowed and she turned away like I was a nuisance. Not the first time, so I shrugged it off without too much hurt.

But she only grew colder from there. Less tolerant. In the early afternoon, when she took her favourite armchair and dove into a book, I put down my own volume and decided to try and get her to talk.

“Felinja?” I said in my calmest, most polite voice. She grunted. “Are you alright?” This made her look up.

“Why do you ask?” Her eyes were impassive, if not cold.

“You seem… distanced, today. I thought you perhaps were unwell.”

“I’m fine,” she said and dove back into the book. Damn. I’d been unsettled before, but now I was seriously worried.

“Really?”

She threw the book down and glared. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

I shook my head, “but you’re angry at me. Why?”

“I wasn’t, but now you’re bothering me.”

That lit my anger, it struck my pride head on. I bit down on the vexation and took the book up again.

Perhaps she had decided that I had wronged her yesterday. That I had been unfaithful, in taking blood from my new friends.

We hunted alone from then on. I kept to myself and waited for the storm to pass. Continued the routine.

But four nights after the card-game, I was tipped over the edge. I came to Michael’s for a chess game, a bit later than normal, and caught her scent on the front door. It rung every alarm bell in my mind. She had never been here before, and it struck me as strange that she would come for the first time without me.

And inside, in their saloon’s comfortable leather couch, next to a vividly burning fire in the hearth, they sat together. Raymond and Fetinja. She was laughing. The sound struck at my heart like a dagger, and twisted. Calmly, or numbly, I approached, walked in, feeling surprisingly lucid.

Raymond greeted me cheerfully, and I came close enough to smell her blood in him, to see the two small wounds on her wrist, where she had let him bite her. She did not hide them, quite the contrary. I ignored Raymond, for I had never fooled myself into thinking he was worthy of trust, I instead scrutinized her eyes. She had not slept with him, at least. Not a complete betrayal. Only a punishment. Her eyes stared back, tranquil and cold, her eyebrow rose faintly, confirming what I already knew. It was all very intentional.

Raymond read the situation on my face, and he raised an eyebrow at Fetinja. They sat together on the sofa, but each at one end, and they weren’t touching. But Fetinja had meant to hurt me with this, and I couldn’t forgive it. Not to this extent.

I smiled coldly. “You seem to be having fun. Do not let me interrupt, but do let Michael know that I passed, and that I would like to have a game tomorrow.” Raymond nodded, his cheer long dampened.

With that said, I walked.