“The hunger clouds everything,” he acknowledged.“But underneath it, the bond remains.You simply haven’t learned to recognize it.”
“You said I was too young, too new to do it!”
“Typically, that would be true.Most vampires learn to discern their senses through time and experience.But you can do it with focused intention.”
“How can I focus on a feeling I’ve never experienced?”The urgency and panic in my voice were clear.“You mentioned a crowded room.If I know what someone’s voice sounds like< I can focus on it.But this sire bond, this connection, I have no idea what the feeling is like!”
“Unfortunately, you have no choice but to try,” he replied.“You must try.”
I opened my book, fingers finding a passage I’d marked just yesterday, when the hunger had been merely painful rather than all-consuming.
“Mental prayer,” I read aloud, though the words swam before my eyes, “consists not in thinking much but in loving much.The important thing is not to think much but to love much, and so to do that which best stirs you to love.”
Desiderius remained silent, watching as I traced the words with one trembling finger.St.Teresa had written these instructions for living souls seeking God, not for the undead seeking their monstrous offspring.Yet something in her guidance resonated—the idea of reaching past thought into pure intention.I didn’t know what a sire bond felt like, but in a way, the girls were my children, my offspring.I was something like a mother to them, even though I was younger than Ruth in human terms, and not much older than Rebecca.Even as a vampire, I’d only been one for a few weeks before I’d bitten the two of them—and Silas ensured their transformation.
“She speaks of detachment,” I continued, finding another marked passage.“Detachment from worldly concerns to achieve union with the divine.Perhaps I need to detach from this hunger, from this physical prison, to feel the spiritual connection, to feel love for Ruth and Rebecca.”
“I’m not sure the words of a Spanish Christian mystic are going to help you understand vampirism,” Desiderius said, though his tone held less dismissal than before.“But if it helps you focus, then use it.”
I closed the book carefully, holding it against my chest like armor.Then I closed my eyes, trying to push past the screaming need in my throat, the hollow ache in my stomach, the weakness that made standing an act of will.St.Teresa wrote of the prayer of quiet, where the soul rests in God’s presence without words or images.Could I find my progeny in such silence?
The hunger fought me at every turn.Each time I tried to sink into that quiet space, my body’s demands dragged me back—the memory of blood’s warmth, its copper taste, the way it had once filled the empty spaces within me.Four days without feeding had sharpened these memories into weapons that cut through any attempt at concentration.
“I can’t,” I gasped, eyes snapping open.“The hunger is too strong.”
“The hunger is an excuse.”Desiderius’s words held no sympathy.“You think I don’t feel it too?That my centuries of existence have somehow dulled the need?I may be able to endure longer than you, but in another sense, age has made it worse—I remember more clearly what I’ve lost, what feeding used to mean when I was young enough to take pleasure in it.I’ve fed on humans more times than you ever did; it took me ages before I’d found a solution.I know how easy it is to embrace my appetite, how much simpler it is to forget my humanity, my faith, and to indulge the monster within.”
His admission startled me.I’d never heard him speak so frankly about his own struggles.
“Try again,” he commanded.“But this time, don’t fight the hunger.Use it.The bond between sire and progeny is born of blood—let your hunger guide you to theirs.”
I closed my eyes once more, but this time I didn’t try to suppress the burning need.Instead, I simplyacknowledgedit.The hunger wanted blood, craved it with single-minded purpose.And somewhere in this dark world, two creatures carried my blood in their veins, transformed by my bite into something neither living nor properly dead.
At first, nothing.Just the same hollow aching, the same desperate need.But then, faint as a spider’s thread caught in moonlight, I felt...something.Not a physical sensation but an awareness, like knowing someone stood behind you without turning to look.It pulled from somewhere deep in my chest.
“Northeast,” I whispered, eyes still closed.“They’re northeast of here.”
“How far?”
I tried to gauge distance through this tenuous connection, but it was like trying to measure the length of a shadow.“I don’t know.But they’re moving.Circling something.”
“Hunting,” Desiderius said grimly.“We need to go.Now.”
We moved through the forest with what speed our weakened bodies could manage.Desiderius led, his centuries of experience allowing him to navigate the darkness with economy of movement I couldn’t match.I stumbled more than walked, catching myself on tree trunks, my feet tangling in undergrowth I couldn’t see clearly even with my enhanced night vision.The hunger had dulled even that vampiric advantage.
But the connection grew stronger as we moved.What had been a thread became a rope, then a chain, pulling me forward with increasing urgency.I felt their hunger mixing with mine, amplifying it until I could barely think past the drive to reach them.They were ravenous, beyond thought or reason, operating on pure instinct.Not feral, not quite, but they were losing themselves.
“There,” Desiderius pointed through the trees.
Yellow light spilled from windows in the distance—a farmhouse, isolated, vulnerable.The kind of place a family might choose for its peace and privacy, never knowing it made them perfect prey for creatures like us.
That’s when I heard them—not Ruth and Rebecca, but the family inside.Five heartbeats, each with its own rhythm.The parents’ hearts beat steady and strong, unaware of danger.But the children—three of them—their smaller hearts raced like hummingbirds, faster than adult hearts ever could.The sound cut through everything else, through the hunger and exhaustion and despair, reaching something primal within me.
Blood.Young blood.Rich with life.
I pressed St.Teresa’s book harder against my chest, using the physical pain of its corners digging into my ribs to anchor myself.“They’re circling the house.”
Through the trees, I caught glimpses of movement—shadows darker than the night itself, flowing around the farmhouse’s perimeter.Ruth and Rebecca had become predators.
