That look on his face at the pole studio reminded me of my father. I couldn’t save my family from that rotten man, but I can help Dora.
Silently, I step up to the back door. It will take a flick of my wrist to break the ancient lock, but when I twist the handle, the door opens.
I pause at the threshold. Thankfully, the mythology of vampires requiring permission to cross a threshold is nonsense. Upyr like Alaric cling to an ancient code of politeness because they prefer not to frighten their food. But I like my prey afraid. From the moment I became an Upyr, my world was one of violence.
“Hello, Mike.”
He raises his head, his whole body trembling as he tries to figure out how I appeared in his kitchen. “Y-y-y-you.”
“Yes. Me.”
I step towards him. I don’t turn on the light. I see perfectly well in the dark and I want Mike afraid. Heshouldbe afraid.
Blake is not my second surname. I lost a bet with Allie so he named me after one of his grim poets. For several decades, I wore the name Gideon Vega – a name that causes women to swoon and the most ancient and powerful Upyr to quake in their slippers.
The chair makes a loudSQUEEEAKas I slide it out. Mike winces. He twists his hands into knots. I slide into the chair opposite him and set the knife on the table, blade pointed towards him.
We both stare at the knife for several tense, silent moments.
“You have nothing to fear,” I say in my friendliest voice. “Not yet, at least. I’m here for a chat.”
Mike’s eyes flick to my face, then back to the knife. He doesn’t utter a word.
Wise man.
I taste his fear on my tongue – hot and sticky and metallic. He smells much more appetising than he did at the pole studio. I can hear his pulse pounding erratically. He’s terrified.Good.
I hadn’t planned on drinking from him, but his fear smells delicious.Perhaps it would teach him…
No. I think of Hamish Aeturnus’s message on the Sepulchrr app, the one that’s now up to 50,000 Digs. The last thing I need right now is to prove Hamish and the Conclave right about me.
“I’m here to talk about your wife.”
“You… s-s-stay away from Dora.”
Mike’s skin is bone white. He’s trembling like a Christmas trifle on a foosball table.
I’ve still got it.
“Dora is a remarkable woman.” I steeple my fingers like a wise man imparting important truths. “I’m sure you know this, or you wouldn’t have married her. Women aren’t our possessions, Mike. They’re not unruly pets that need discipline, or faulty tools we send back to the shop if they don’t work the way we want. Women aremythological creatures, and our only job on this earth is to worship them and get out of their way when they need to flatten a civilisation.”
“W-w-why are you telling me this?” Mike sinks lower in his chair.
“Because I think you could use a little advice, man to man. I careabout Dora very much, and you need to know that trying to control her is going to end badly for you.”
“But… butshealready told me this!”
“She? Dora?”
“No.” Mike’s whole body convulses with fear. “The… the tall, scary one. Arabella. She was here just before you. Sh-sh-she—”
“Shewhat, Mike?”
He whimpers, shrinking into himself.
Arabella, you wild, beautiful, sadistic creature.
Mike’s face twists with agony. “She hasfangs—”
