Page 84 of Nocte

Because bringing her back would be a reward for Cassius. He would get his initial quest fulfilled. Killing her would no longer be the most fun part of this game.

No. I grip her hand so tightly she couldn’t pull away if she tried. I lead her from the gallery, though her eyes linger, and she cranes her neck back for one final look. But still, she follows.

She doesn’t resist the hand I have clenching her tightly. She follows me. Wants to follow me.

She has to follow me.

Because I have a debt to repay. Because of her. The fat mortal gave me a package to deliver like some kind of fucking messenger boy.

Messenger boy. An image comes to mind: running, chasing down minutes and hours. Parcels in hand, running and chasing.

Me?

I can’t remember. Won’t remember. The past is in the past. The past is dead.

I am dead. I am Caspian.

A vamryer, the pinnacle of all beings. Unaffected by time. Unable to age. Unable to feel any emotion but greedy, gnawing, thirsty hunger.

But she…

My little fae is hungry. Her steps falter. She winces as her belly rumbles, unused to the sensation. Although she was hidden, shamed, and shunned, she never went hungry. Not for long. Not for days.

Don’t care. I try to ignore her. Ignore the growling howls of her stomach. Ignore her dry, longing swallows. Ignore. Ignore. It will take her body days to die from hunger. Days she doesn’t have.

Cassius will come. An army will come. The fae, though they hate her and hide her, they will come…

I stop. Fragrance rides a cold wind that whips past and makes her inhale raggedly. Her stomach grumbles. There is food. Mortal food, greasy and nutrient-less. There is a stand on the corner of the nearby street where a man hands out steaming slabs of meat on buns. Rolls, they are called. Sausage rolls.

She wants one, even though she’s never tasted it. Never even tasted meat—just lived on gruel and bread. She wants one.

I don’t care. I pull her forward and keep walking. There is a debt to be repaid. A balance to right. She owes me enough already. I’ve given her enough already.

I stop. A mortal stares at me in confusion, a slab of steaming meat raised.

“Give it to me,” I say, but my voice is cool, pretty, and sweet.

He smiles. I smile.

He gives me the greasy, disgusting thing.

I give it to her. She swallows. “Thank you. But they pay for things here,” she says as I pull her along, leaving the mortal and his meat stand behind. “I read that custom in the archives. We should pay for it. With money.”

“Don’t have any,” I growl at her. It’s not like I need it anyway. Whenever I came here on Cassius’ accord, he never once supplied me with money. It isn’t necessary. I look at mortals in their empty, dull eyes. I smile and make a request. Give me. Give now. Give it all, no questions asked.

They give. They go about their meaningless lives. Money or words are all the same. Only in the other realm does money matter. We can only pay for things with silver there and adhere to the rules. Cassius supplies us with all the money we could ever need.

Because everything we buy is always for him.

Except the day I took his silver and bought a rose. I pretended like giving it to her was on behalf of him—but it wasn’t. It never was. I gave it to her because I wanted to…

I wanted to.

“Eat,” I snap at her now, shaking my head to clear it. Stupid memories. Pointless memories.

She hesitates. It’s stolen goods, and in her worthless, sheltered not-fae life, she’s never had to contend with stealing. Just hoping—a greater mortal sin in their world. So what is this in comparison?

“Eat.” I pull her aside into the mouth of an alley and make her face me. I snatch the sausage roll from her grasp. Rip off a piece of it. Greasy, disgusting morsel. I shove it against her lips. She bites. Her eyes widen as she bites once more. Chews. Swallows.