The transformation was brutal—worse than Abbot had warned him. Lawrence writhed in his bed like he had a fever, and when the hunger set in, he began to wish that he'd savoured killing that human. He needed blood, but Bronson only brought it to him every other hour; he knew that was to prevent him from gorging and making his transformation take longer, but he just...needed it.

Each passing hour felt like a century, dragging on longer than the one before. It was torture. But Lawrence had to hold on, he had to make it. He wouldn't let this beat him; he wouldn't let Count Abbot go free. He had to survive so that he could make him feel the pain and loss that he'd made him feel.

It was all worth it. The pain in his chest as his proselytes matured, the pounding in his head and burning of his nerves while his body evolved beyond that of a human, and the crushing, tormenting hunger. He'd go through it again if it meant that he got to get his revenge—if he got to give Abbot what was coming to him.

He suffered through the rest of the night, almost lunging at Bronson when he brought him blood; every cup only made him hungrier. When morning came, the agony got worse. His limbs felt like they were trapped in a vice, and there was an invisible dagger through his chest. The blood began to make him feel nauseous when he drank his next cup, but he knew that if he didn't drink it, he'd be a Fledgeling much longer than he wanted to be. So he downed each glass, ensuring that he swallowed every drop.

As the sun set, the burning inside him gradually decreased, like he'd taken some sort of painkiller, and it was finally kicking in. But he knew why he was starting to feel better. This was around the time Abbot had given him his blood and venom; this was the same time twenty-four hours ago that the man he loved started him on his journey into eternity.

A journey that he was now facing alone.

He wouldn't let the dismay get to him this time, though.

From his bed, he watched and waited until the last rays of light seeping in through the cracks in the curtains disappeared; the occasional chatter outside his door grew into mass conversation, signalling the awakening of the rest of the castle. He heard Bronson's voice, and when the General stepped into his room for what he hoped would be the last time, Lawrence sat up and looked over at him.

"You can mesh with the rest of the coven now," Bronson said. "You'll find most of the Fledgelings in the back right of the ballroom; they like—"

“Like the leather couches, yeah,” Lawrence mumbled as he stood up. He already knew most of the ins and outs of the coven and its ranks.

“Someone will also take your belongings up to your new room for later.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He then followed Bronson out of his room and through the candlelit halls; the many voices coming from the open doors bounced off the black walls, and the smell of blood and wine hung thick in the air. Lawrence couldn’t tell whether it was warm or cold anymore, but from his time as a human, he remembered the halls carrying a faint but bitter draft.

When he got to the ballroom, Bronson left him to join the other Generals and higher-ranking vampires. Lawrence didn't care, though; he'd rather be on his own right now than chauffeured around the place. The ballroom was bright and bustling with vampires, some much older than the rest. A huge crystal chandelier lit most of the open space, and small lanterns hung around the dark walls. Leather couches were lined around the room, and a huddle of them sat in the far right, where all the Fledgelings were grouped up.

To his immediate right, where Bronson had gone, were the Generals and some Adherents, as well as Master Percival, who was rarely seen mingling with the rest of the coven. He was Abbot's best friend, and it was likely that the only reason he was in the ballroom and not up in the penthouse tower drinking expensive wines with the Count was because he had been sent to make sure that Lawrence didn't cause any more trouble—Bronson had obviously told Abbot what he did to that human; it was his job to ensure the coven's smooth running, and someone murdering a human would have been considered a crime...if there were witnesses. But since there weren't, Abbot had probably already had Master Eddy make up some story involving the wolves.

Everyone else taking up space in the ballroom were either Acolytes—vampires younger than a hundred years—or some of the younger Adherents. Lawrence felt like he'd get along with them since he already knew as much as they did, but the Fledgelings were the ones he needed to talk to. So he made his way through the crowd; some of the vampires greeted him, and he responded with the best smile he could pull.

Some of the Fledgelings glanced up at him as he reached them, and they all looked miserable. Of course they did. They were all in the same boat as him...but they were heading in a different direction, and Lawrence had already jumped ship. While they moped and wallowed, he planned his revenge, starting with getting to know everything he could about Abbot and his authority.

"General Bronson said there was another joining us," one of the black-haired Fledgelings said quietly, his voice a mere whisper. His crimson eyes were filled with heartbreak, his dark skin had blood stains on it like he fed and didn't clean after, and he looked like he was clinging on to his immortal existence by a thread.

"Yeah. Lawrence," he replied. "You?"

"Mark," the man who first addressed him answered.

Lawrence looked at the guy next to him; his hair was almost grey, and his dark skin really brought out the red in his eyes. "And you?"

"Austin."

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"Daniel," the blonde man beside him said. "And that's Frederick," he said, nodding at the patchy-haired Fledgeling sitting on his own in the only armchair. "He doesn't really talk much."

The other blonde-haired man nodded at Lawrence. "Brent."

"Harrold," the last man said, his long hair a dirty blonde colour.

Abbot clearly preferred blondes.

Lawrence sat on the end of one of the couches.

"How was your transformation?" Mark asked.

"Fine," Lawrence muttered.

"General Carol is teaching us in about thirty minutes. Are you joining us?" Daniel questioned.

Lawrence knew that he should participate in any lessons that he could, but he could do that later. He'd finished his transformation, so his bloodlust wouldn't be so intense, and whenever it struck, he could easily get a hold of blood from storage. No, right now, he had to focus all his time and energy on destroying Abbot.

He shook his head in response. "Nah, not tonight." He rested his arms on his knees and glanced around at them all. "So, Count Abbot fucked you all over, huh?"

The same gloomy, depressed glower struck all their faces.

"What did he tell you? That once he turned you, you'd spend forever together?" he continued.

"He lied," Brent murmured sadly, his voice breaking.

"Did any of you ever confront him?" Lawrence asked.

They all looked around at each other.

"Frederick did," Daniel answered. "That's...part of why he doesn't really talk."

"Oh?" Lawrence adorned a curious frown.

"Count Abbot said that...what he was doing was for a noble cause," Daniel said, glancing at Frederick. "That it was what Lord Alucard wants."

"Bullshit," Harrold grumbled. "We're all fucking miserable. Our Lord doesn't want that. He needs strong soldiers, not...us."

"Harrold's ex-military," Austin muttered. "Count Abbot picked him up at a Royal Navy club just outside Myrefall.

Harrold slammed his hand on the table, his eyes glowing brightly as he growled, "He told me that I was joining a noble cause, too. But it was all a fucking lie. He said we'd rule this coven together. But the second he turned me...he just fucking kicked me to the kerb."

"He kicked us all to the kerb," Brent mumbled. "We're all just pawns. He got what he wanted, and now we're left to figure out what the hell we're supposed to do with our lives."

Lawrence pondered for a moment. Did Abbot actually think that what he was doing was for a noble cause? Did he think that Lord Alucard wanted him to recruit new vampires this way? He wondered...was the Count disobeying protocol? Lawrence didn't know the ins and outs of what Counts were supposed to do when recruiting and creating Fledgelings, but he did know that there were rules.

He needed to find out.

"Actually, yeah," he said, looking at Daniel. "I'll come to the lesson."

"I mean...we're all stuck like this now, right?" Brent said despondently. "We gotta learn how to deal with it."

Harrold clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. "I'm fucking starving." His red eyes were darker than any of the other Fledgelings', and the darker a vampire's eyes, the hungrier they were...which meant they were much more dangerous. "There better be blood."

"You're always hungry," Mark said.

Lawrence zoned out while the Fledgelings bickered. If he went to General Carol's lesson, perhaps he could learn a little more about the rules when it came to making new vampires. Maybe he could obtain information that would help him take Abbot down.

He leaned back in his seat and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

General Carol came out of a door between two lion statues; Lawrence watched the auburn-haired woman make her way over in a black ballgown. She wore jewels on her fingers, gold in her ears, and diamonds around her neck. Carol loved to display her title, looking like royalty, but not too much—she might upset Count Abbot.

"Fledgelings," she said, stopping beside the couches. "It's time for lessons."

They got up and followed her through the door she'd come out of. She took them down a long corridor, up a spiralling staircase, and into the highest room in a large tower. When the Fledgelings sat in front of a couch beside an empty fireplace, Lawrence sat with them, and he watched General Carol take a seat as if she were a queen.

"How are you all feeling tonight?" she asked.

Each Fledgeling gave their mopey answer.

When Carol looked at him, Lawrence said, "Fine."

"Is there blood?" Harrold asked eagerly.

"All in good time, Harrold. Today, Count Abbot has asked me to discuss the dangers of the forest with you all. There are werewolves and wolf walkers out there, and humans who wish to do us harm. There may be a treaty, but not all abide."

Lawrence didn't want to sit there and listen to what he already knew. He raised his hand like a student and watched Carol frown curiously.

"Yes...?"

"Lawrence," he said. He'd never crossed paths with her—not directly. He'd seen her strolling around sometimes while he was with Abbot, but they never got close enough to exchange names.

"Lawrence," she repeated with a smile. "You have a question?"

He nodded. "There's something I'm wondering about, yeah."

"Go ahead," she invited.

"Are there certain rules that higher-ranking vampires have to follow when turning humans?"

She frowned a little. "Oh...my dear, you won't be turning anyone as a Fledgeling."

"I know," he said calmly. "I'm just wondering about the higher-ranking vampires."

"Well..." she said as she thought to herself. "There are several rules, yes. Mainly to avoid conflict with the people of Myrefall. We can't turn humans into vampires unless the human either approaches us and asks, or we offer it to them, and they consent."

Lawrence wasn't going to hold back. "What if a vampire turns a human under false pretences?"

Carol's frown thickened. "What do you mean by that?"

He wanted to scoff. She had to be aware of what Abbot was doing. "Say a vampire started dating a human and told them that if they let the vampire turn them, they'd spent eternity together, but the second they turn the human, the vampire leaves them."

The woman looked uncomfortable...like she didn't want to answer.

And all the Fledgelings had the same dismayed but curious looks on their pale faces.

"Is that against the rules?" Brent spoke up.

"It would be, right?" Harrold added. "The human...consented to certain terms, but the vampire broke them."

Carol shook her head. "I think that we should move on, please."

"So, it is breaking the rules," Daniel stated.

The woman sighed deeply and shook her head. "Let's move on to the lesson."

Her reaction told Lawrence all he needed to know. Abbot was breaking the rules set in place when it came to turning humans. If Lord Alucard found out, he'd punish Abbot, wouldn't he? Maybe...he'd even strip him of his title. No. Turning humans under false pretences didn't sound like a crime punishable enough. He didn't just want Abbot to get a stern talking to and a slap on the wrist; he wanted the Count to suffer, to lose the thing he treasured most.

Lawrence schemed. He needed more information. He needed to learn more about Abbot, things that he didn't tell him when they were dating. If he was devious and cruel enough to break the laws of turning humans, then he had to be breaking more rules. Abbot seemed like the kind of guy who bent rules to satisfy himself...and doing it behind Lord Alucard's back probably gave him such a thrill.

But Lawrence was on to him. He'd find out what else Abbot was hiding, and to do that, he needed to get closer to the people who were closest to him.

He needed to get closer to Abbot's best friend.