Page 66 of Nocte

In the beginning, when they thought I was a savior. A protector from boredom. From a loveless future. From ugliness.

But, oh, I never protected them.

I’d give my soul for her. Gave it up already. But why? Why?

Because she asked. I look at her, breathing easy, body limp. I look at her pale, gangly limbs. My limbs. Mine. All of her is mine to have. To take.

But only if she asks me to.

Why? Why?

“Did you hear me?” the blond mortal asks, having regained some energy. Colleen, the other one, called her. She is pale and thin with coils of blond hair threatening to burst from that bundle at the nape of her neck. Pretty, but not enough for Cassius. Young, but with a mind too old for me. She seems older than I am, as if she’s lived centuries. Lifetimes.

“I asked you what her name is?” the woman retorts, eyeing me from over her shoulder. Her hands are trembling, her brow still coated in sweat. It dampens her blue sweater and makes the wool cling to her flesh. Pink flesh, brimming with blood. “Can you not speak English?”

“Name?” I snap. “She doesn’t have one.”

Then I remember. Spit it out, “Niamh.”

“Oh, that’s pretty,” the mortal whispers, eyeing the fae once more. “It’s Irish in origin, isn’t it? I thought your kind didn’t have names like ours.”

Like them. Disgusting, vermin names. Humans have too many to keep track of. They name their children with whatever folly enters their minds at the time.

Stupid.

Foolish.

We are named for a God, our maker. Our master. I am a proud spawn of Cassius, one of the elder three?—

No.I shake my head and grit out a hiss. Even here, he creeps into my thoughts if I’m not careful. Even here, the bastard still seeks to infect me.

Because of her. I’m not near her. I creep closer from the corner the mortal banished me to. Crouch on the other end of the bed, too close to the fae. Nowhere near close enough.

I run my thumb along her throat. There. Like magic, the world is silent again. Only annoying blond mortals can penetrate with wary gasps and uneasy swallows.

“What is your relationship to her, vampire?” she wonders. “She isn’t a mortal, but she isn’t one of your kind either. Did you steal her from somewhere? Take her? Aim to sell her on the black market?”

“Yes,” I reply. “I took her.”

The truth.

A lie.

She followed me willingly. Followed me as a means to her end. Followed me to achieve her real aim.

But still. There was no Cassius prodding my every movement. No motel to drag her to.

She followed me out of that forsaken realm. She wanted to follow me.

“I don’t know what Mo lets your kind get away with, but I am not one for bribes, vampire,” the mortal hisses, her pink cheeks flushed, blue eyes angry. “If you have harmed her, I will report you to the authorities. Slavers are not tolerated here. The boneys will throw you right into the pits if?—”

I laugh, and the mortal jumps. So I bare my fangs and laugh again. Words aren’t necessary. Just this. As if any authority could maintain a hold over me.

The only authority I fear is Cassius.

Wait.No. Don’t fear him. Hate. Hate. Hate?—

“I mean it. Now, where are the clothes I sent you for?”