32. Caspian

Adebt repaid. A day wasted. A simple fucking exchange.

I should leave her there at the mouth of her precious museum, her precious art gallery. Leave her there to be gobbled up by hungry shadows and struck by another bus. I should leave her there.

Because bringing her back would be a reward for Cassius. He would get his initial quest fulfilled. Killing her would no longer be the most fun part of this game.

No. I grip her hand so tightly she couldn't pull away if she tried. I lead her from the gallery, though her eyes linger, and she cranes her neck back for one final look. But still, she follows.

She doesn't resist the hand I have clenching her tightly. She follows me. Wants to follow me.

She has to follow me.

Because I have a debt to repay. Because of her. The fat mortal gave me a package to deliver like some kind of fucking messenger boy.

Messenger boy. An image comes to mind: running, chasing down minutes and hours. Parcels in hand, running and chasing.

Me?

I can't remember. Won't remember. The past is in the past. The past is dead.

I am dead. I am Caspian.

A vamryer, the pinnacle of all beings. Unaffected by time. Unable to age. Unable to feel any emotion but greedy, gnawing, thirsty hunger.

But she…

My little fae is hungry. Her steps falter. She winces as her belly rumbles, unused to the sensation. Although she was hidden, shamed, and shunned, she never went hungry. Not for long. Not for days.

Don't care. I try to ignore her. Ignore the growling howls of her stomach. Ignore her dry, longing swallows. Ignore. Ignore. It will take her body days to die from hunger. Days she doesn't have.

Cassius will come. An army will come. The fae, though they hate her and hide her, they will come…

I stop. Fragrance rides a cold wind that whips past and makes her inhale raggedly. Her stomach grumbles. There is food. Mortal food, greasy and nutrient-less. There is a stand on the corner of the nearby street where a man hands out steaming slabs of meat on buns. Rolls, they are called. Sausage rolls.

She wants one, even though she's never tasted it. Never even tasted meat—just lived on gruel and bread. She wants one.

I don't care. I pull her forward and keep walking. There is a debt to be repaid. A balance to right. She owes me enough already. I've given her enough already.

I stop. A mortal stares at me in confusion, a slab of steaming meat raised.

"Give it to me," I say, but my voice is cool, pretty, and sweet.

He smiles. I smile.

He gives me the greasy, disgusting thing.

I give it to her. She swallows. "Thank you. But they pay for things here," she says as I pull her along, leaving the mortal and his meat stand behind. "I read that custom in the archives. We should pay for it. With money."

"Don't have any," I growl at her. It's not like I need it anyway. Whenever I came here on Cassius' accord, he never once supplied me with money. It isn't necessary. I look at mortals in their empty, dull eyes. I smile and make a request. Give me. Give now. Give it all, no questions asked.

They give. They go about their meaningless lives. Money or words are all the same. Only in the other realm does money matter. We can only pay for things with silver there and adhere to the rules. Cassius supplies us with all the money we could ever need.

Because everything we buy is always for him.

Except the day I took his silver and bought a rose. I pretended like giving it to her was on behalf of him—but it wasn't. It never was. I gave it to her because I wanted to…

I wanted to.

"Eat," I snap at her now, shaking my head to clear it. Stupid memories. Pointless memories.

She hesitates. It's stolen goods, and in her worthless, sheltered not-fae life, she's never had to contend with stealing. Just hoping—a greater mortal sin in their world. So what is this in comparison?

"Eat." I pull her aside into the mouth of an alley and make her face me. I snatch the sausage roll from her grasp. Rip off a piece of it. Greasy, disgusting morsel. I shove it against her lips. She bites. Her eyes widen as she bites once more. Chews. Swallows.

"It's good," she whispers, as if she's never understood the concept before. Good food. Better than just palatable food. Like a rich, delicious bloodstream spilling from a gaping neck. A willing neck. Willing blood tastes the sweetest, and she has promised me hers.

That is why I feed her every last bite. I want that heart pumping freely. I want her blood to taste oh, so sweet. Sated and full, she'll taste better than she would starving and frail.

I need to feed her more. She is different than I. Not a flawless, peerless vamryre, but a weak, nearly-mortal fae. Her body will disintegrate into dust and bones if I'm not careful. I've let her be broken beyond repair once already.

I take her hand and pull her into me—protection from the shadows. She is a creature desiring protection. The world looks at her and looms. It doesn't shy away like the pathetic fae and the others in our old realm.

The mortals look at her here, and they don't see an ugly thing. Their eyes linger on her—more than they even linger on me. They watch her swallow. Watched her smile in that gallery. Watched her laugh and spin so freely the first moment she set foot here.

She is pretty to them—no, beyond pretty. She is an otherworldly being, shiny and new in their eyes. She is valuable in their eyes. I will have to protect her here. Guard her here.

She is shiny and valuable, and I can see that so very many want to steal her.

But she is mine.

"Is this the place?" she wonders, her lips soft and shiny with grease, her eyes wide and questioning. She sees a building straight ahead. A building we've been standing in front of for maybe a minute or more. A building I don't want to enter.

I can smell that something is off with it. It reeks of deadly, corrupted magic.

The fat mortal can deliver her parcel herself. I won't.

My little fae catches my attention. I see her, black eyes innocently staring. Heart so innocently pumping. Skin so innocently glistening.

She's drawn several eyes our way without even trying. Without even realizing it. She's used to hateful, furtive glances, but these are lingering and wistful. Men here long for her. They rake their gazes over her body with hungry, groping eyes.

And women want her too. They want to coddle her, hold her, and protect her from the dark, wicked things. Too many people are watching her. Staring.

"Come." I snatch for her wrist and tug her along, closer to that infernal, unwelcoming building. The address on the parcel is the same as the numbers gleaming above a set of main doors in a rusting metal script.

It feels familiar. At the same time, it doesn't. What is this place, and what use could a mortal mundane have for sending me here?

A distraction,a part of me warns. You know that all of this is a distraction. A lie.

Because Cassius is coming—and you want to see him, you sick fuck. You'll lead your little fae into a trap just to see him. Smell him. Kill him.

Enough. I banish the thoughts and step inside the building, with the fae at my heels. She watches and stares as we traverse a narrow hallway, black with soot and age and the stink from decades of mortals who have lived here throughout the ages.

But mortals no longer live here now. They have been banished by another type of creature. One more sneaking and insidious. It set up shop in this mortal realm, but it doesn't belong.

Like me and the fae, the inhabitants of this dwelling do not belong.

Our quarry lives behind a battered black door. I knock. Slam. Rattle the damn thing in its hinges.

"Coming," a voice replies, sickly sweet and chillingly familiar.

"We're going," I tell the fae, but she blinks at me, confused. She doesn't understand what kind of place this is. Doesn't recognize the light tones coming from the other end of that door.

The creatures living here are not mundane, or corrupted, strange mortals like the blond Colleen.

They are vamryre. All, full-blooded vamryre, hiding in the mortal realm like wayward children. Fugitives. Outlaws.

"I said I'm coming!" The dwelling creature snaps.

It's because I knocked again. Slammed on the door, threatening to break it with every pounding, thudding smash. I should run and get the fae away, but I can't.

I need to see. Need to smell.

I need to look into the eyes of these creatures and see who they belong to. How they escaped. How. How? How!

The door opens and a creature appears on the other end, garish and glaring and dressed in vibrant purple silk. It is a man. Or a woman. A creature beyond such limitations. It, whatever it is, leans against a doorframe, dressed in silk, its hair dark, blacker than midnight, eyes a piercing green.

This creature did not belong to Cassius. A brother or sister from another master. Another slaver. Another collection of broken doll-toys.

"From which corner of bloody hell did Mo find you?" He-she-it, murmurs, their eyes gleaming, fingers clenching the doorframe. Then they see my fae, and greedy hunger flashes across their gaze. No fear. Utter terror. They see her and shy back, hissing through glossy, perfect teeth. They see her, and their fangs spring from their sheaths, cutting the air.

Not to bite with.

To kill.

They see her, my pretty fae thing, and they want to destroy her. Crush her.

They fear her.

"Step toward me, brother," they say, their voice gentle and fake. "Leave it behind. Yes, that is the way. Come toward me."

Their green eyes beckon. Their voice beckons. For they are older than I am. Wiser. A brother in blood and knowledge. I should listen. Need to listen.

A new master. A better master than Cassius…

I let go of her, my greedy, corrupted fae. I let go of her, and the cold reality comes rushing back. I let go of her, and I remember all of the things I don't want to. Don't need to. I let go of her, and the world loses its pretty fucking sheen.

I snatch her again. Grip her again so hard she winces.

But all is well again. I can think like myself again. I can glare at the other vamryre and tell it to go to hell.

"She is mine," I say.

The figure shudders. "Well, darling, I certainly am not one to judge another for their choice of kink. To each their own, I say. Just leave it over there in the doorway—no, not the package, the dirty thing. Yes. Leave it there?—"

He means my fae. He doesn't want her in his pretty house, near his pretty, fake collection of sparkly, shiny things.

Too late. I drag her toward me. Bring her with me.

He doesn't want her here, but whatever is in this package, he needs. He needs me to carry it deeper within this maze of rooms and set it on the floor before a closed door. There is something behind this door. Something I want. Need.

Something I have forgotten but desperately need.

Can't remember now. Don't care. I look at my fae toy, and I don't care.

"Well, that is done," the fugitive vamryre remarks. He hasn't followed us here. He lingers paces away at the end of the hall. He watches, his nostrils flared, eyes fearful and furtive. They dart to my fae, then to me, and back again.

He fears her, this corrupted being. He eyes her as if she's the broken one. The lying one. The fearful one.

But he is here, and so am I.

"Who do you belong to?" I ask.

"No one," he replies, chin in the air, throat gripping around a hard swallow. "Out here, I belong to myself, as I assume you do. But don't think you can sow any trouble here, vampire. I know what you are. I know which master you belong to?—"

He uses present tense, not past.

"Don't think you can bring your troubles here. I know of your kind. I know of you, boy."

"Caspian," I correct with a cold smile. "I am Caspian."

"You are one of Cassius' toys," he counters as a hint of power radiates through those dark eyes. He dresses like a woman and wears their perfume. He carries himself with the air of a man. He is deceitful but not weak. I can feel his control wash over me and threaten. Watch yourself, boy. "It isn't like your master to let your kind wander too far off your leash. Now go!" He beckons us forward and then wills us away with waving hands and delicate fingers. "Get out. You've done your duty. Get out."

I want to. Gladly, I will leave.

"Wait," the creature commands as we near the door, my fae and I. "Make it wait outside. I need to speak with you, boy."

I look at her. I look at my fingers gripping tightly to the little fae. Her hands are pink from the pressure. Pink from the blood flow necessary to supply those tiny, grasping fingers. Blood flow stilted from how tightly I grip her. How hard. I let her go, and the world will fall away.

I let her go, and she might slip away. No. Never.

I keep her close. Keep her near me. Always, I will keep her near me.

"I don't think this is a conversation you want it to hear," the vamryre warns.

Don't care to listen. Don't care to hear his lies.

I start to leave.

"Wait! Just hear me out. Oh, well fine then, have it your way. Do you know what that thing beside you even is? Because I do. I can smell its gross corruption. Its corrupted you already, you do realize? Broken thing. Disturbing thing." It eyes my fae and sighs in pity. It eyes me and sighs in disgust.

Stupid, arrogant vamryre. It thinks it knows everything. It thinks it knows what my fae is.

But he doesn't.

I do.

"She is… freedom," I say in a rush, spinning to face him fully. Growling to prove a point. "She is freedom from him, and she is mine. Touch her and I will kill you. Touch her and I will rip you limb from limb?—"

"I know," the other vamryre says softly. "I know, because that is what it does. Corrupts and bends others to its will. Don't you see? You mean nothing to it. To this creature you are a means to an end. It already has you under her spell."

Under her spell. Where I would rather be than anywhere else. Under her spell, away from Cassius. Under her spell, and able to feel. To fuck and taste and enjoy and feel.

Under her spell…

Where I need to be. Where I will stay.

Under her spell?

"So be it," I say. Then I drag her away, my fearful, startled fae. She heard every word that worthless creature said. She isn't smart enough, like me, to discount it. She took in his lies, and they fester in her mind. They toy with her. Corrupt her sense of self.

That stupid vamryre will ruin everything. Everything.

He'll make her think she is dirty and unworthy, and she will hide from me.

She will leave me.

Only I can leave her—not the other way around.

She can never leave me.

I will never let her leave me.