His hands closed around your upper arms like manacles, then released. “Hush, it’s all right, Little Bird. I am not displeased with you.” His ocean eyes lit up as he laughed, still mockingly but not as harsh as usual. Not the laugh that meant another of the rapidly dwindling humans would be thrown to the shadows as meat.
“Stephen is another of the Night Brethren. He thinks he is lord and master above us all because he expects to take his father’s place as head of the council.”
Did he just…. You frowned, “I- you mean that vam- the Night Brethren can sire children?”
When his eyes looked up at you from under the hat’s brim, they’d bled gold again. “Why, yes, my Little Bird, though Stephen was turned at the same time as his father, he wasn’t born a vampire.” His calloused fingers continued to circle your skin, looking for bruises and scrapes. “To carry a night child requires a special sort of woman. These children can tear free from the body of a weaker soul, and-”
Yanking your arms away from him, you slid off the bed, pressing yourself into the corner farthest from his grinning form on the bed.
“That’s horrible!” You knew it was insane to speak back, but the casual way he spoke about such a thing. “The poor woman and the baby- how cruel to grow up knowing what you’d done to your mother!”
His grin faded and you realized you’d managed to surprise him. “Really, sweet fledgling? You would feel pity for these monstrous offspring? After they rip and-”
“It’s not their fault, either!” You were interrupting Black Heart. Oh, dear Lord, you were insane. You were finally driven to madness because your mouth kept moving. “Even with their- their paternity, the night children are still innocent. They couldn’t know what they were doing, and to live with that knowledge? To live without the only person who would truly love them?” The back of your hand was scrubbing the tears off your wet cheeks.
Black Heart stood, scoffing. “You know nothing. A child kept in her cage for a decade. What would you know about love?”
“I know my mother loved me.” The adrenaline was fading, and your knees shook. “She loves me,” you corrected, “I know she does.”
His head tilted with interest as your captor strolled closer.
“Really…” his tone was low, like the rumble of a satisfied panther, “do you think your dear mother could still love you if you were a monster? If she carried you inside her, knowing what you were?”
“Yes!” you spat, “No matter what. And she’ll come for me. She’ll find me.”
John was nose to nose with you now, the tip of his boots brushing your slippers. His red lips opened to spit back something cruel, but then pursed as he looked at you thoughtfully.
“We shall see,” was all he said as he closed the door, leaving you alone again. But even while you were shaking, you smiled. He’d let slip you’d been in the Birdcage for ten years. You were ten years old when the bombs came. When you lost your father to the fireball and your mother to the crowds. Now, you knew you were twenty years old. You were no child, and Black Heart knew it.
He returned that night. At least, you thought it was night, you weren’t sure why. The shadows outside were humming, a low buzz like cicadas in a summertime long before the bombs and the Night Brethren. He set the table with fine china and crystal goblets, pulling the cover off the food with a flourish. You had not seen fish or fresh vegetables since … you couldn’t remember but you sat down eagerly. He poured a dark red glass from the wine bottle and toasted you with his own.
“To life,” Black Heart said, drinking deeply.
The glass tilted a bit in your hand, lips parted in shock. One of the Night Brethren, toasting tolife?His band of monsters worshipped death, they danced in the ashes of the fallen world and chased survivors like sheep across its ruins. His toast was sacrilegious in a way you could barely comprehend. He enjoyed your appalled expression, nodding to your plate. “Enjoy your dinner, Little Bird, it was a challenge to procure, even for me.”
Even after his offensive, callous toast, you still brought a forkful of fish to your mouth. Earthy and meaty, halibut, maybe? Did the sea creatures survive the bombs? It was perfectly cooked and flaky, with a tang of lemon and there was butter on the asparagus. Your eyes closed involuntarily, and you let loose a tiny moan. Swallowing your fish, looked up to see Black Heart lean on the table, his expression was so hungry. Like he was starving and your appetite disappeared;youwere going to be his meal.
His goblet nudged yours again. “Drink with me, it’s bad luck to refuse a toast.” His eyes were sparkling and he grinned his fanged smile at you, the tips of them touching his full lower lip.
“To life,” you repeated, the words like ashes in your mouth but you forced yourself to drink. Black Heart had never served you alcohol before, though you remember your mother allowing you a sip of her champagne one New Year’s Eve. This didn’t taste anything like that, where the bubbles tickled your nose and throat. The mouthful of wine coated your tongue, slid down your throat so smoothly and you swallowed without hesitation. This drink warmed you inside like a flame, making your fingers and toes flex.
“To my sweet Little Bird,” he crooned, “so brave today. I am proud of you.”
“Why?” Black Heart wouldn’t answer until you took another sip of wine.
Leaning back, he stretched luxuriously, removing his hat and the full force of how handsome he was, how unearthly was like a slap on your cheek.
“Because, when Stephen forced his useless, entitled hide into your little sanctuary, you could have cajoled him, flattering and weeping and begging him to help you escape.” The smile on his perfect lips could almost be considered fond. “You were loyal to me.”
Shuddering, you took another sip of the wine, so warm and so heavy-tasting. “Not him. Never. He was evil. He didn’t care about me. He just wanted… something? What did he want, John?” Maybe you were drunk already, asking him questions. Talking so casually about another monster.
“He wanted you, Little Bird,” he said, admiring the light through the red lens of his drink, “he wanted to own you. He wanted your body. He wanted to show you off to the others, hurt you because he could.”
You were definitely drunk because here came another question. “He said you’d been hiding me and the council was searching for me? Why would-” you shook your head, “I’m just a human.”
One thick finger passed thoughtfully over his mouth as Black Heart observed you. “You are more than a mere human, Little Bird. You are mine. If for no other reason, that useless bastard would want you. But I saved you all those years ago because I knew you were rare and precious. Being shoved back and forth by adults who couldn’t be bothered to care about a child alone.”
“But- didn’t you see my mother?” You leaned forward, hands pressed together, pleading. “She was there, someone just pushed between us, we were holding hands and she couldn’t have gone far, she….” You didn’t remember this part at all, you didn’t remember anything between someone pushing you to the ground and waking up in your bed here in the Birdcage. You could swear that the monster seated across from you looked sincerely regretful. Not just pretending to have human emotions to mock you.
