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I turned to stare at my friend in disbelief. “You think I’m worried about losing my mind? That I’m upset because I don’t believe I can control myself at my age around those pitiable humans? Is that what you really think? Have you changed so much from the vampire I’ve known all these years that you’re okay with what’s in that barn?” My voice was raised, and I didn’t doubt others in the lodge could hear me, but I didn’t care.

Nathaniel’s expression hardened. “The world is different, Vincent. This is reality now,” he said, gesturing toward the barn, the prison. “These humans will survive, multiply, and eventually help repopulate the planet.”

“Don’t you dare try to make yourselves out to be heroes,” I spat. “It’s disgusting. These are living human beings. I understand the circumstances, but there has to be a better way. You’re worried about my sanity, about my humanity remaining intact? How long can you younger vampires feed and live like this and still hold on to yours? How long before you become nothing more than animals, if you aren’t already? The only thing that keeps us civilized is being part of civilization, and this is not it.”

I could see my words had no effect on Nathaniel. I needed a long walk to think things through. I turned my back on Nathaniel and strode off.

Nathaniel called after me, “Vincent, if you want to survive this, you’ll have to change.”

I stalked away from the clearing. Once I was out of sight of the main building, I launched myself down the steep slope of the mountain, heading in the opposite direction I’d come the night before. It felt good to run, the cold wind biting at my cheeks and exposed arms.

As I ran, I weighed my options. I could stay and accept this new way of doing things. I could follow Richard’s survival strategy and become part of this twisted community. I would have friends, be fed, and slowly lose my mind. Or I could challenge Richard for leadership. I could try to change how things were done and improve the situation for the captive humans. However, I would likely have to challenge all the vampires at the lodge who were presumably content with the status quo. Many would die, and I might not survive. Alternatively, I could take the third option and leave.

I thought hard about it as I sped downward, weaving between the trees, my boots sinking into the deep snow. I ran for quite some time. Just as I was about to turn back toward the lodge, I heard gunshots in the distance and, without thinking, veered toward the sound to investigate.

Several more shots rang out as I approached a small cabin nestled at the base of a nearby mountain, part of the same range as the one where the lodge was situated, but about fifty miles to the north. The air carried gunpowder, woodsmoke, human scent, and the distinct scent of two vampires. I recognized one of them immediately. I stayed hidden and downwind. I didn’t want to confront the two, but I was curious about what they were doing there—though I had a pretty good idea.

By the time I found a perch to observe from, it was quiet. Faint light spilled from the front door of the one-room cabin. After a few minutes, a male vampire appeared on the porch, the limp body of a large human slung over one shoulder. The human was massive; the vampire had little trouble shouldering the weight. Behind him came a female vampire with another small body draped over her back in a fireman’s carry. My gut twisted with anger when I saw her face.

Anna seemed to be in her element. Her relaxed features and expert handling of the human told me she’d done this before. The two vampires leaped off the porch, carrying their burdens, and hurried toward the lodge. This was a hunting party, and it had been successful. I didn’t doubt the two unconscious humans would be part of the wretched stable by morning, and the thought made me feel ill.

I was about to climb down from my hiding place when the wind shifted, and I caught another whiff of woodsmoke drifting in from the west. I still had several hours before I needed to return, and in the end, curiosity won out. I followed the scent to a small timber house, like the others I’d seen in the area. A car, mostly buried in the snow, was parked off to one side. The house was occupied, but the fire I’d smelled had recently been put out, and no light shone from within.

I crept silently around the side of the cabin and listened. One strong human heartbeat sounded inside, a male by the scent lingering in the air. There was also the soft, rapid heartbeat of a small animal.

I dared to peek through the window above me and spotted the man. He was young, probably in his mid-to-late twenties, with dark blond hair and long limbs. Moonlight filtering through the window cast his features in shades of blue and silver. With a start, I realized I recognized the man.

It was the same man I’d seen at the bar the night I’d drunk the tainted blood. He sat on the floor with his legs crossed, a rifle beside him. A fluffy orange cat was curled in his lap, and he absentmindedly petted the animal. His eyes were wide in the dim light, and he seemed to be straining to hear sounds from outside.

At first, I worried he’d somehow heard my approach, but then I remembered the gunshots. The man must have heard them at this distance and was listening for trouble. His breathing was rapid, but he bent his head toward the cat and whispered, “It’s okay, Samson. We are going to be okay.” He kissed the animal on the head, then resumed his rhythmic petting.

I stepped back from the window and sat with my back against the cabin wall. I listened to the beating of the man’s kind heart and to his soft murmurs to his pet. How had we both ended up so far from the reality we’d once known? Was this man’s life unrecognizable to him as mine was to me? Nathaniel’s words echoed in my mind, and I knew they were true.

We would all have to change to survive.

Eventually, I pushed myself to my feet and made my way back to the lodge. The warm lights and cheerful atmosphere looked different to me as I climbed the front steps and entered. Nathaniel was sitting in the lounge, clearly waiting for my return. When he saw me, he rushed over.

“I’m glad you’re back, and I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “We can work this out, I’m sure of it.” He rested a hand on my shoulder, as he had so many times before, and searched my face for a reaction.

I smiled at him fondly. “I don’t know.” I couldn’t keep the sadness from my voice. “I have a lot to think about, old friend. We’ll talk tomorrow night, okay? I’m still a bit worn out from my journey.”

Nathaniel nodded and let his hand drop to his side, disappointment clear on his face. I went upstairs alone and locked myself in my room for the day. My cigarette case sat beside my open pack, and I considered reaching for it, but I only smoked when I wanted to think, and despite what I’d said to Nathaniel, I wasn’t ready to do that just yet. I needed the oblivion of sensation.

I filled the old claw-footed tub and sank into the scalding water. I wanted to forget everything I’d seen that night, even if only for a little while. Tomorrow would be time for decisions.

17

JULIAN

Two nights after returning from my trip to town, I sat in front of the stove, enjoying the warmth. I was deciding whether to add more wood when gunshots sounded in the distance. I hurriedly set Samson down and went to the door. I stepped onto the porch as two more shots rang out, then silence. With the mountains all around, it was impossible to tell how far away they were.

I rushed back inside, grabbed the mug of tea I’d been sipping, and doused the fire in the stove. The steam kicked back and hit me like a wet towel, making me cough. I used the fireplace poker to spread the wet coals, ensuring they wouldn’t reignite, then gently eased the stove door shut.

The rifle was leaning against the wall by the front door. I hoped like hell whoever was shooting would stay put and not come looking for trouble. I could shoot, but man, I didn’t want to have to go there.

Scooping Samson off the sofa, I sat on the floor in the corner of the cabin and listened.

It was eerily quiet outside, the sounds muffled by snow and wind. I petted Samson and strained to hear anything, anything that might tell me whether whoever’d fired those shots was getting closer.