Page 32 of Besieger
And neither are you two, she thought and mused. Their skin was tan and they had something Mediterranean about them but they also were not Greek. When they first spoke to her, Mihaela found their pronunciation weird until she realized they were not talking to her in Bulgarian at all. They were speaking Russian. Like her parents’ generation—and the one before them—children used to study Russian at school, but her class was one of the last to have it in the curriculum. Mihaela disliked using the language; its classical literature be damned.
“He isn’t, no,” the man conceded and pulled up the sleeve of his coat to look at his watch. “He should have taken you with him when he made you.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“You can ask him yourself.”
It took all the strength and self-control she possessed not to let her eyes wander over the man’s shoulder or scan the yard. She knew for a fact that her maker was not here. Astra had assured her that if other supernatural creatures were near, Astra would know about them even before Mihaela did. Supposedly a vampire could not hide from a prince of Hell, no matter how well their presence was shielded. Mihaela had no way to test Astra’s claim, but she believed her, sometimes a little too blindly and with a devotion she was not sure was entirely normal.Do I trust her because of our pact or because she already has a claim overme?Whatever the reason, right now Mihaela desperately wanted Astra to be here.
“Mihaela!”
She hated the sound of her name on his lips. Hated how he kept saying it.
“Among our kind, I am known asMarquisBracci—Silvio Bracci. Your maker, my Master, has sent me to bring you home.”
The thirst was there, but it did not gnaw at her from the inside like it normally did. It flowed beneath the thin layer of her skin, a kind of thirst that could be quenched with water but it would feel, oh, sogood if it were sparkling water. To guzzle down something cold and bubbly, the very opposite of blood.
In the beginning, during those first nights, Mihaela thought about blood like hot chocolate: thick and warm and sweet. Once it ran down her tongue she could not stop. She killed her victims and then struggled to find ways to dispose of the bodies. Astra had helped her, more out of pity than from any desire to actually assist with Mihaela’s transition from a sleep-deprived, anxious student to a newly-made vampire, permanently covered in gore.
Somehow it was harder to be a vampire in Sofia than in Tarnovo. Tarnovo was surrounded by hills and forests. If Mihaela wanted to, she could lure her victims out of town and hurl their bodies over a precipice, hoping a wild animal would find it first and take care of the rest.
Her maker had not taught her how to stalk humans and feed, or care for her new vampire self. She had to learn on her own, testing how far the fictional stories held true in reality. As they walked, Silvio ushered her to the side, the two of them slowly falling into step behind a man, the only mortal out on the street at this hour. Emerick—or theComte, for this was how thelonghaired vampire had introduced himself—remained a short distance behind them, hands shoved in his trouser pockets.
“Choose them young and healthy,” Silvio instructed. He laid a hand on the mortal’s shoulder and halted him.
The mortal wore a clouded expression, as if he had been caught sleepwalking. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, the rosiness made him look younger than he was. He could not have been more than thirty.
He did not flinch when Silvio began undoing the scarf and coat, baring the man’s throat. Mihaela had to rise on tiptoe if she wanted to reach the throbbing vein. Noticing her frown, Silvio’s hand pressed down and the man fell on his knees. A huff escaped his lips, like gas leaving a corpse’s stomach.
“This one was drinking,” theMarquisnoted, running his fingers through the man’s hair, combing it back. Mihaela could not stop looking at the unblinking eyes, how calm and willing he was. She preferred them struggling, not because she did not know how to cloud their minds or command their bodies like this, but because, perversely, it was less cruel.
“Drink a little from him first,” Silvio added. “I will find you another one to finish. There is no merit for restraint in one as young as you. Drink as many as you need.”
“If there’s alcohol in the blood canIget drunk?”
The moment the words came out Mihaela regretted them. There were far more pressing matters, far too many questions she needed answers for—about her, about them. She should have asked instead if the thirst would always be like this, strong and insistent.
“Not in the same way a human gets drunk but it will affect you. Makes you a little tipsy. And you will want more.”
“What if someone sees?” Mihaela asked.
They were out in the open, three figures standing in the shadows cast by a row of street lamps. Cars passed now and then, their horns croaking in the night.
Silvio moved behind the mortal and yanked the head back by the hair. The man made a noise and his Adam’s apple bobbed. Mihaela wanted to sink her teeth right in it and drain him. She knelt and put both hands on the man’s shoulders, going for an embrace before stopping. Silvio was studying her; without turning around, she knew that Emerick was watching too. The hunger prevailed over how exposed she felt, and she pressed her face in the man’s throat.
Her teeth pierced the skin and with the flow of blood came the memories—a flood of images she could not make sense of.
Push them aside and focus on the blood, Silvio’s voice thundered in her head and Mihaela spat from the shock. The blood oozed down her chin and she drew back to wipe at her mouth, before biting down again.
“Follow the blood, not the mind,” this time Silvio spoke aloud and Mihaela was thankful for it.
When there was nothing left to drink she stood up and let the body slump on the ground. Mihaela cut her finger and smeared some of her blood around the bite marks, watching them heal.
Just as Silvio said they would…
It was one of the few tricks he had shared, showing her how a proper vampire was meant to act. Mihaela was eagerly cautious of his next lesson, mimicking him to the best of her abilities.
TheMarquis, he hasn’t lied to me. Yet...
