#d.u.s.k.

Sheknows the damage has been done. She knows it’s too late. The both do. But shesays it anyway. Again and again.

“Don’tlook. Don’t… it’s not…”

“It’sme,” Amoretta says quietly. Her arms don’t go up around Lucrecia’s shoulderslike they should. Like they would, in any other situation. Because Amoretta washer protector, Amoretta was her safety, when Lucrecia thought of home it wasAmoretta’s face she saw. Amoretta—was real…goddamnit all.

“No. No it’s not. You’re you. You’re—” She doesn’t have to look to knowAmoretta’s face hasn’t turned away from the bloody glass. She knows the othergirl is still staring at it like it’s both her savior, her validation, confirmationof everything wrong in her life and…it’s her end.

Amorettashifts just enough so that her next sigh is against Lucie’s ear. It’s resignationand Lucie has never hated a sound that’s come out of her mouth more.

“Itexplains… everything. Lucie…” Something is shifting. She can feel it as thetension seeps out of Amoretta’s shoulders. The fight. It’s leaving her. “LucieI’m not real. I’ve never been. I’m—”

Pleasestop. Please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease…!

There’sa glow coming off her skin now. Something not unlike the image from the glassbut… so much worse. They both know what it is before Amoretta can finish herthought.

“…Andof course… now I just… go back to you, don’t I?” She slowly reaches up to grabLucie’s shoulders and push her away, look her in the eyes one last time.

Luciedoesn’t want it. Lucie wants her warmth. Lucie wants her laugh. Lucie wants towatch her twirl into the café and be brazen and careless—Lucie wants Amorettato glow but absolutely not like this.

Andshe doesn’t want to look her in the eyes now. She doesn’t want to watch thatcolor flood out of her, drained by this disgusting glow that’s trying to willLucie to say goodbye.

“Fightit Ama.” She says quickly, her voice a little strained, choked in her throat.

Amorettadoesn’t falter, like staring into that glass has filled her mind with all theknowledge in the world to know what is and what must be and this… apparently,must be: “No.”

“Fightit,” She says again, she grasps at Amroretta’s arms, her hands still grippingher shoulder, “You’re so much more than a childish thought why can’t you just—stay—”

Amorettasighs again, deeply, her entire body sagging as she shuts her eyes and pressesher forehead to Lucie’s, “I will stay. I’ll always be with you Lucie. It’s… I’mnot a real person. This is how it should have been.”

Theglow is dying out now, the pressure on Lucie’s shoulder is loosening, Amoretta’spractically going transparent before her eyes and Lucie hates every second ofit.

“Ididn’t fall in love with a fakeperson.”

Amoretta’seyes shoot open.

Luciefeels something cracking. Straining. Something is filling her chest and she’snot sure if its desperation or if it’s Amoretta’s very spirit.

Shethinks it’s desperation.

“Ididn’t make you up. I could never—you are so much more—”

“Youlove me?” Her voice is a ghosts.

Lucieknows she’s crying though she can’t feel the wetness on her cheeks because herbody is buzzing, trying to take Amoretta in. Failing. How can she? Amoretta is too much. Too much spirit, too much history. Herexistence can’t just be wiped away!

“Y-yeah…”Lucie bites her lip and feels absolutely miserable. This was never somethingshe was supposed to say out loud. Never.

“You’rein love with an evolved form of yourself, what a narcissist.”  The ghost practically giggles. Lucie might hateher for just a few seconds at that, because she is so, so, tired of listening to Amoretta talk herself into nothing like that.

“Youknow that’s not it! I’m nothing like you. You’re brave and strong and you’re thekindest person I’ve ever met and—”

“I’myou.”

“NO,you are NOT!”

Itsnaps. Lucie doesn’t know what. But it does.

Thetwo of them stand in the darkness of this cursed room beside that heinousmirror and Lucie feels the pressure on her shoulders just a bit stronger than before.She looks up into Amoretta’s eyes and finds them the deepest orange she’s everseen them.

“Youknow…” Amoretta started with just the faintest smile on her face. It’s a bitstrange on her face now, twists something uncomfortable in Lucie’s gut. There’sa voice she doesn’t recognize in theback of her mind whispering something she can’t make out but it sounds sourgent… “Maybe you’re right…”  

Amorettareleases her shoulder and wipes a stream of tears off Lucie’s left cheek,tilting her head ever so slightly with an alarmingly soft expression on herface. Lucie feels it in the way her chest tightens because that was a lookLucie had desperately wished Amoretta would grant her over their years of heirfriendship but—but Amoretta’s heart had always belonged to someone else.

Herlooking at her like this now…

“H-havewe stopped it? Are you—are you safe?” Lucie tries hopefully, glancing over herfriend looking for a hair out of place or a patch of skin that might be a littletoo translucent.

Butno. She’s fine.

Thevoice screams but Lucie is adept atignoring them now.

“Ithink I am…” Amoretta giggles and Lucie thinks for a moment she sees littleblack butterflies fluff out of her hair as she does. Her shadows are playingtricks on her, clearly…

Butthen Amoretta leans forward very suddenly, her lips catching Lucie’s and makingthe young witch squeak in alarm. She presses in hard and Lucie feels thattwisting in her gut get worse coupled with the sharp pain in her chest. Herlips are soft but so cold…

It’squick and careless and Lucie doesn’tfeel right at all.

Somethingis wrong.

“Yeah.I think I’m safe. But you’re not. ” She smiles again, so brightly it shouldhave made Lucie’s heart soar just like it used to. But now all she sees is redsilk and shadows and—

Amorettaturns her around and drapes her arms over her shoulders, forcing her to starestraight into the mirror that so sealed her fate once already.

Thereflection now shows the woman from her nightmares standing behind her wearingAmoretta’s smile. And there’s a hole in her own chest.

“Look what you did~” Amoretta—no,the boogie woman—laughs one more time before disappearing into the blackness.

Cassandra hasn’t spoken to you on this visit. You’re not sure how you feel about this. She was dark and sullen during the entire hunt. Honestly, you wished she’d stop insisting on the hunts in the first place. You could feed her just fine with provisional demon’s blood like the rest of your people in Illusions.

But she insists, every visit, that you take her into the city. That you show her how to ensnare a human. That you show her how to manipulate them and how best to break their skin and leave them dazed and confused in the middle of the streets.

Why?

What’s her reasoning?

If I’m to be so abhorred by my brother, I should have a reason to be abhorred.

It’s what she said the first time and she doesn’t bother dignifying you with a response the many times you’ve asked since.

It’s…well honestly, it makes your heart heavy but it’s—

It’s your fault.

It’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s your fault. Why did their bond scare you so much? Why did you allow yourself to sit in Lanas’s nightmare and even consider for a moment that your children could possibly—

Why did it scare you.

You should have known better.

You should have had more faith.

You should have…

Even when you’re back home quietly undoing the buttons of your collar you can’t stop thinking about it.

“Have I…” You mumble aloud to no one, alone in your chambers, “Have I become…them?”

A glass drops.

Suddenly you realize you’re not alone.

For the briefest moment your blood runs cold and your eyes narrow and your body prepares itself to attack, rip to shreds any intruder that could happen to have invaded your personal time like this.

Honestly, that alone should have been a red flag enough.

You were caught unaware.

How stupid.

But when you turn on your heel and see him there, standing with tray in hand, empty glass laying thankfully not shattered on the carpet at his feet, you relax.

Because it’s only Robin.

No one relaxes you like Robin.

And yet, his expression causes you to pause. His jaw is slack, his eyes are bright and his brows a pressed together while he stares at you, his grip on the tray loose enough to have tussled the glass.

“Yes Bob?” You ask him. Point blank. Careless. Flippant. How you normally are with him.

“No.”

He says it almost immediately, like it wasn’t even a response to your words directed at him but…

“I’m sorry?”

“No.” He says again, firmer. He lets the tray drop from his hands completely, off to the side and landing muffled along the carpet beside the glass. You realize the glass had at some point been full, and you’ll have to get the carpet cleaned but you barely have the moment to consider this before Robin is upon you, one lightly scared hand gripping at your loosened collar.

“You have not become them. You will never be them, Lucifer.”

His eyes have you frozen. The poor sad things that have seen far too much. The scars across his face the proof of it all.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s said your name.

“Ah…”

His other hand comes up, placed lightly at the back of your neck. You’re not sure how he’s done it. Made your mind go blank.

It was your name, it had to be. Does he even realize he’s done it?

“I don’t know who put that thought in your head but you’re not. You are my lord Lucifer, my sovereign, my savior.” He breathes the last word, softly and carefully lowering his head so he’s barely a feathers width from pressing against your chest.

“Please don’t compare yourself to them.” He mumbles, quiet enough you almost miss it.

You wonder how you came to deserve him.

Because you compare yourself to your parents most in how you treat him.

Some time ago you’d even had to lock him up. Keep him away from some demonic angel that thought it was all good fun to play with a king’s tings. You’d had to keep him shackled there, guarded, silenced, so he couldn’t sink into the angel’s manipulations any further.

Sure, the reasons behind his imprisonment were different. It was for his own good. You’d done it to protect him.

But at the end of the day, you knew what it looked like.

You remembered how you’d first found him.

You remembered the smell of your mother’s blood as it stained your hands and you remembered looking up and seeing poor small wrecked Robin.

At the time you hadn’t thought much of it. So blown away but what you’d just done. By what you’d had to do to a pair that looked so like you. That smelled like you. That spoke like you.

Having stumbled on their pet didn’t phase you.

Considering what they’d done to you, what you’d known of your parents while you grew up in the underworld with a couple that did care about you despite not being your own blood, you weren’t all that surprised.

Honestly, what did surprise you was that he was the only one.

The only passing thought you’d had about Robin at the time was… “He must have been special. Perhaps. To them.”

And then you kneeled before him and released him. A rabid looking stranger. Maybe he could have been dangerous but at this point, having just killed the king and queen of your own people, you weren’t all that worried.

He vaguely remembered Robin’s raw voice mumbling something, more a scratchy whisper, “Your eyes…”

But you couldn’t be bothered. You rose, you offered him a hand if he needed (not that you bothered to wipe off the blood) and when all he could do was look at you, you shrugged your shoulders and turned around. Off to locate your brother who you knew would come searching for you soon.

If you’d asked yourself then if you ever thought that creature would ever matter in the long run, you’d probably have said no. The pet was nothing but a frayed loose end to your predecessor’s reign. Not even you’re problem really.

And yet here he was.

…your pet now.

How disgusting.

You knew better. You had to.

When you’d locked him up to protect him—was it really to protect him or was it to protect your own pride? That your toy had wandered off into someone else’s hands for a few nights?

No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was when he’d come back, edgy and frazzled and not himself.

Why did it matter if he was himself?

He was something you owned, not a person.

You saw him just as your parents once did. Monsters. Horrible vile monsters. Just like you.

Why then, did it upset you so much? Why did it frustrate you to remember how you’d kept him in the dark. How you’d held him bound in nearly the exact way they had when you’d found him. Why did that almost spur you on in your hunt for the angel?

Why did parts of you scream how dare you make me do that to him when you’d finally found the loathsome creature that thought it could touch your Robin.

…Well, other than your inability to take responsibility for your own actions.

Perhaps there had been a better way. A kinder way to protect him. Something then unknown to you. Or had it only been the passing of years that made you inclined to try and at the time you’d simply decided not to bother?

When did Robin start to matter to you.

Really matter?

…Did he really?

His hand shook lightly behind your neck, like he was frightened. And of course, he was. You can’t remember the last time he’d approached you so intimately. This wasn’t like him. He was a servant, he knew his place.

Yet…

You reach out a hand to press against the back of his head, push him down against your chest properly while the other snakes around his waist and pulls him close to you.

“I appreciate the words, Robin.” You offer, using his real name for what’s probably the first time this decade.

He stiffens at this but doesn’t make to pull away, “I’m sorry. I was being forward.” His hands lower but he stays pressed to your chest. It’s not like you’re going to let him move now.

“Bob? Forward? I wasn’t even aware that was something you could be,” You offer with a light chuckle. Perhaps it’s for the best that you stop thinking about the past and go back to playing.

It’s easier. Simpler. Fun.

You try not to think about how much you resemble your parents. You try not to think about how you’ve ruined your children in behaving just as they did when they tried to ruin you. You try not to think about how you were inclined to Robin in the same ways they were. How you enjoyed his company and yet twisted his life to suit your needs.

You try not to think about how Robin, dear sweet naïve Robin, actually thinks you’re better than them.

With a playful tug, you pull him away from your chest and toss him in the direction of your bed where he lands with a light “oomph!” and you laugh to yourself as his eyes lose the fire they’d previously held when he’d tried to argue with you. Instead of that fire they hold a softness, a complacency in the way things are and a touch of fondness in the realization of his position.

Yup. That’s more like it.

“I’ve had quite the day Bob!” You grin, undoing the rest of the buttons on your top and slipping it off your shoulders. You don’t care that it falls on the floor. That’s usually where your clothing ends up anyway.

“Have you now, Sire?” Bob sighs out, sounding exasperated but his eyes are still soft.

“It’s Luci, Bobert. And yes. You’ll make it better now, won’t you?” You push on, making your way to the bed and climbing over him as you push him to lay back down. His face flushes a bit but he rolls his eyes.

“Bobert? Really?”

“Really.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“Yes you can.”

“I can, I just don’t want to.”

“That’s the spirit. Now isn’t it grand that it’s not about what you want?” You mean it as a joke but a part of you can’t help but wonder, openly, does he want this? Has he ever really? Would things be different if you were less your parents son? You should get up. You should leave.

You don’t want to.

And then for the briefest moment you think he might have smiled at you. Just for a moment.

“Of course, my lord. Whatever you want.”

And maybe when you kiss him it’s softer than it used to be. And maybe when your hands drift along his skin you’re more careful around the scars. And maybe when he breathes in your ear, your mouth open at his collar, it takes a little more restraint to remind yourself not to feed on him. Not to offer your own neck. Not to push any more intimacy into this than was strictly necessary.

Maybe it doesn’t matter because it’s intimate enough all on its own.

Maybe when you’re lying there staring at his back after demanding he spend the night with you—“In the kings bed? how disrespectful!”—you notice the odd feeling in your chest.

Something you’ve done a good job of ignoring up until now.

“My Lord?”

“Luci.”

You listen to him sigh before he turns over and looks you in the face for a moment before his eyes dart to the side, almost bashful. “Goodnight, my king.”

“...Goodnight.” You watch him close his eyes and your chest tightens a bit.

-2-

    Long before he could remember—and this didn’t imply that to be very long at all given his circumstances—he had felt something amazing.

That something amazing had been stripped from him along with his finest memories, these precious things that he swore if he could just reach far enough, try hard enough, in his dreams he could just barely grasp them. That golden thing that filled his entire body with warmth and something like what one would describe as love.

Every night he went out looking for this thing. He sat in wait in the darkest corners and alleys when allowed by his sisters. When he wasn’t, he had a place in a local park where poor unsuspecting victims would fall prey to his mad desires.

He had only one clue after all; one clue to help him find that which had filled him with such euphoria: The blond hair on his pillows.

He’d been ten years old when he’d woken to the hunger and the painful awareness of his loss. Ten years old when he’d found the blond hair that didn’t belong to a member of his family. And not even his sisters were allowed entry into his bedroom so for certain the owner of this blond hair had to be someone important to him, to not only be let into his bedroom but to share said bed. At ten years old too, there would have been no ulterior motive. Seven years later he could have considered that perhaps this person was his lover, but at ten he was certain, this person could have been nothing more than a treasured object; his prey.

This person whose blood filled his veins; who caused his insides to burn in vicious ecstasy, they must have been the best kind of snack. At ten years old, there were no doubts; he would have kept this person locked away and all to himself. He would have had eyes on them at all times because he would never have shared them with anyone. He was a spoiled little prince, selfish and concerned with little beyond his wants.

Yes, this person had been something flawless and his and someone had seen fit to take them from him. Until he found this person again, he would lie in wait and try the blood of every blond person his eyes landed on. It didn’t matter to him. If his latest victim’s blood didn’t make him see stars—and they never did—then they were abandoned, presents for his sisters to feed off of. It upset his father, the thief as far as he was concerned, and that was a plus.

At this point in his life he no longer cared about the number of bodies he’d racked up in his frustration. Humans had a thousand names for him at this point but it wasn’t like they’d ever be able to catch him and if they did, a human cell would be nothing but a few minutes of his wasted time and a new hunting ground depending on how long he wished to stay. The serial killer of the French Ardennes would stay free as ever.

His father, the reason he wasn’t allowed to have nice things, could suck it.

Tonight he’d taken up his residence in the park as his eldest sister had pleaded with him to keep his hunting close to home this time. He was fond of the eldest, she was always very kind and fair and was the one who he was closest to of his family. If she wished it, short of calling off the hunt altogether, it was done.

His victim was lying at his feet, her soulless eyes wide as she’d bled out from the tear in her throat some time ago. His sisters had come and gone and he’d sat quietly in the background before this woman had died, her pretty blond hair dyed red with her own blood. Normally he’d have gone home by this point but something had kept him in the area, something had kept him back.

Maybe he was finally having enough of it all. A bit of an existential crisis really.

“The endless nights of bad blood…” He mumbled aloud to no one.

“Lea says it tastes better when it’s to your preference…” She’d snuck up on him so quietly he almost jumped at her arrival…Almost. “Isn’t she to your preference?”

He glanced up at his petite sister, surprised to see her at all out doors.

“Anna. You never leave the house…” He asked her, carelessly dodging her question.

She nodded, “True, I don’t… but everyone else came back already. Usually you’re home first, I got worried.”

He looked her up and down, noting the high collar, the long gown, the parasol in her delicate gloved hands.

“You realize it’s the evening, right? There is no sun out. You’re safe… and I mean, the sun can’t hurt you anyway—”

“I—I realize! I just… I’m never quite sure when the sunrises and I could never be too careful.”

“Anna the sun can’t hurt you, not only are you inactive but you’re a natural born, the sun is only an affliction to changelings—”

“Am I to be punished for being cautious, brother!?” The doe eyed girl cried her face flushing.

He rolled his eyes and rose from his position crouched in the grass. Standing now he towered over his miniscule sibling by at least a foot even though she was a month older, her mother having given birth prematurely gloriously infuriating his own mother. He ran his fingers through his soft black curls and sighed, “One day, Anna, you’ll realize why you’re the butt of everyone’s jokes.”

“And one day, Collin, you’ll realize this hunt is useless, and you should just stay home with Rishas and I and not make father so angry and— Collin wait please!”

His eyes had sharpened and narrowed at her before he walked over to a nearby park tree to dig his pale green glowing finger nails into the bark. At his touch the foliage started to melt under the electric heat and within moments the thing had come crashing to the ground. The sounds of broken branches and unsettled leaves drowned out by the deafening thump that marked the end of an otherwise peaceful trees life.

When he turned back to her, his fingers back to their pale white palette but his eyes glowing the faintest neon green against his normal forest color, she withered visibly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just…”

He stared her down. There was maybe one of his sisters that would have warranted words, but as far as he was concerned Annalise and that level of stupidity weren’t worth the effort. She crouched down onto the floor, tilting her parasol downward to block his gaze as her hair pooled around her in the grass, thick brown and flowing like waves.

“I-isn’t blond your preference…?”

He sighed at the meekness of her voice and decided to humor her abrupt shift in topic, “Blond isn’t my preference Anna.”

“The st-staggering number of bodies with blond hair would indicate otherwise though…why do you do it if you don’t derive some kind of pleasure from it…?” she asked, still not lifting the parasol.

He shook his head, “When the hunt bears fruit then I’ll derive pleasure from it.”

“So…” She nudged the parasol aside at this point, deducing her brother’s voice to have softened enough, “What is your preference then?”

He laughed at the flush spreading on her face again. Annalise was transparent. Once upon a time her mother had joked at her marrying the precious pureblooded prince and ever since the girl had always been very easy to fluster when he was concerned. It was never going to happen because as much as incest was a common occurrence to people of his breed Anna was not a pureblood and would not be in the running for even a moment, but it amused him enough to watch her stumble.

“Personally…” he mused, considering it. He’d never come close to enjoying a meal in the last seven years. He had no way to prove it, but he felt it was as safe a bet as any, “Pride is the most alluring to me.”

Anna’s head lowered slightly, “I see… Lea’s preference is sorrow, yours is pride…”

“I’ve seen Elswyth go after alarmingly strange things.”

“And Marsha?”

“I haven’t got a clue with Marsha.”

She giggled at him, and he held out her hand to help her back to her feet, the fallen tree forgotten.

“Let’s go home, sister,” He suggested, “Besides, humans have bedtimes.”

“I do not!” She whined at him, back on her feet but not releasing his hand, “Baby brothers have bed times! Yours was hours ago!”

He laughed again, ushering her past his kill and towards the street that would lead them to their home.

“Macabre…” She mumbled; looking back at the body left behind like a casual piece of garbage, “Like my story books.”

Collin didn’t bother looking back, “You’ll leave pretty little messes like this too one day. And it’ll be nothing like your story books, I assure you. Just take the bite; it’ll make life easier for you.”

He was the youngest of seven and only male child of Lucifer Aube, reigning sovereign to the race of night crawling, bloodsucking, manipulative, bastards known to humans as vampires. But unlike the vampires in the stories Annalise enjoyed reading, the ones tormented by their past lives as humans and their glorious existential crisis concerning the existence of a god and the origin of the curse they were now walking examples of, Collin and his family were born thus.

The bite he referred to was the one that would awaken his petite sister’s latent vampiric abilities. Most born vampires awakened to a vicious hunger between the ages of ten and thirteen to enforce the feeding process, but Anna was a supremely late bloomer, almost eighteen and without even the inkling for blood. Often times a few of their sisters would joke about her being a mix up and actually being human despite the fact she matured mentally at a speed higher than normal vampires. Had she been a pureblood there was no doubt in the minds of her siblings that she would have been vastly powerful sans the bite.

As it stood, it was just a waiting game to watch Anna take the plunge and Collin had his money on the year and said year was ending soon.

“I know about the bet you have going with the others stop trying to bait me.”

“I’m so gonna win~!”

“Sorry to burst your bubble my love but I haven’t the slightest inkling towards anyone’s blood!” He grinned at her, watching for the flush and grinning broader when it didn’t come. He might have enjoyed watching her stumble, but watching her play like the proud little princess she was supposed to be was just as satisfying.

“Oh but sister, it’s such a wonderful thing! Taking someone’s life essence… Let me tell you the story of my first!” He jeered.

She raised a brow at him, carefully raising her skirts to avoid dragging them over a puddle on the side walk, “You don’t remember your first time! Father saw to that.”

Collin puffed out his cheeks and took his hand from hers. “Way to rub it in. My most basic rite, the biggest moment of my life was stolen even from my mind!” he whined.

She laughed but he continued, “I could still tell you about it though.”

At his sincerity she appeared confused, “But if you don’t remember the moment how could you possibly tell me about it?”

“Do you think I’ve been chasing the concept of a concept this entire time? I have some vague recollection of the purest most amazing event to have ever transpired in my life; why else do you think I try so hard?” He insisted. He didn’t notice the sad little piteous look drift into her eyes when he spoke.

“It really meant that much to you…”

He laughed, “Of course it did! And you can ask any one of our sisters, the first bite is the most fantastic experience!”

She eyed him for a moment and then asked a question Collin had been dreading for the last seven years, “If the first bite is normally fantastic and that’s all you have to go on that this person you’re looking for was so special, how do you know that it was the person and not just the fact they were your first?”

Collin’s steps faltered for a moment and he shook his head again, trying to push the doubt from his mind. He knew it, he just knew it in the core of his being, this person was different from any one else. This person was special.

“It wasn’t just that…”

“But how do you know, brother?”

He looked away from her, his pace picking up. If Anna was going to ask the million dollar questions tonight he wanted to be out of her presence as quickly as possible.

“Ask your sisters, and they’ll tell you about their magic awakening, this burst of energy. This freedom to fly and to be so much more than what they were before. This exquisite pain of senses coming to life they didn’t realize they had. But my first was… different. My first was all of that and more. My first was liquid gold. My senses were reborn like I’d never before known how to breathe, like oxygen filling my lungs for the first time. Like my muscles had never been used before and suddenly I was strong enough to move mountains—and I was…” He could feel his face heating up as he spoke, the shortness in his breath, his vision slightly hazed, when he looked at his sister it was as if a thin fog surrounded her. A small part of him felt self conscious and he figured he should stop, he wasn’t good at describing this feeling anyway, “…Not anymore since it’s been so long, but god Anna, I was so strong once, wasn’t I?”

She remembered. Unlike Collin, all of his sisters remembered. But short of the small nod she couldn’t say much else.

“…Besides. If they weren’t special, why would father have seen fit to take them away from me? Hm? That’s proof enough that I should find them again. If father thought he had reason to fear and make me suffer so, I’ll give him reason to fear,” He growled out the final part and Annalise spared him a worrisome glance.

“You know, if you fed off of someone who gave you such power, perhaps attacking the humans isn’t the route you should be going…” She mumbled.

His eyes widened and he turned quickly back towards her as she’d fallen back a few steps. He grasped her small shoulders and stared her in the eye, “That’s an excellent idea Anna, perhaps you can point me in the right direction? Maybe?”

He watched her heart practically jump into her throat.

“Oh goodness father would be furious with me!” Annalise’s small body started to tremble under Collin’s grasp, “If I helped you—if he knew—I’d end up just like—” She shook her head furiously, “No I can’t! I’m sorry brother, I can’t end up like her, Father is too cruel and she is so much stronger than I am and she suffers day after day and I can’t, I can’t I’m sorry!”

Collin stared at her for a moment longer as she babbled the nonsense he still didn’t understand. From time to time his sisters would talk about his father’s cruel acts. He was distinctly aware of some vicious punishment given to one of his older sisters that the others whispered in hushed tones about when said older sister would do something particularly vile. She was always excused though, because whatever punishment she had suffered had somehow given her a free pass for all future grievances.

How his father could punish one of his daughters in a way that was then paid for with things that actually deserved punishment he’d never know, but that was how things tended to work in the house. It was how he ended up in his own position. Having lost the thing he craved most because his dad saw fit to take it.

He really couldn’t ask Anna to place herself in the line of fire.

“No, no, I’m sorry Anna; you know I’d never honestly ask that of you. I know you can’t tell me. Here, let’s talk about something else. Like…uhm… Oh! Another reason you should take the bite.”

Anna bit her lip awkwardly, a worried expression if he’d ever seen one, but eventually she conceded and the two continued to walk towards their home. It wasn’t far now, there were less streetlights and the houses were getting further apart, “right Collin… and what is that?”

“You’re a Halfling so I’m referring to your special of course!”

“My special?”

“We purebloods have our naturally enhanced abilities that we’re born with from the start. Our mental capabilities are rock solid. Our strength is immeasurable. But you Halflings come equipped with a little bit of witch in you. The mix of bloodlines, no matter how old the impurity, comes with a tiny bit of magic that mutates and gives you each your own inherent magical ability, you know, like—”

“Marsha’s hypnosis and Elswyth’s sound waves, right?” Anna asked curiously. She’d always wondered about that actually. She was a regular victim of the twin’s special abilities and secretly resented them for it.

“Exactly!” Collin explained, “When you, lovely little sister—“

“I’m older than you.”

“You’re littler than me shut up. Anyway, when you take the bite and make the transition, awaken that vampire blood that’s lain dormant in your veins for so long, the blood will mix, the magic will spark, and with your regular abilities you’ll get your special. And personally, I’m dying to find out what you get you special little snowflake.” He looked thoughtfully up at the sky, “What if… what if you can turn into an animal or something?”

“I’m allergic to fur,” She mumbled.

He stopped dead, raised his hand, and whacked her over the head in a brotherly manner, “Quit lying, when I was hiding that cat in my room and my shit was covered in her fur you had no reaction whatsoever.”

“When you were hiding that cat you were deliberately trying to kill me!”

“I was trying to make a friend Anna and you killed it, quit it, you’re not allergic you’re just scared. I hope you turn into an animal. I hope you turn into a cat and fall in love with a tom cat and have little kitten babies and then you’ll be stuck with them forever!”

At Annalise’s dumbfounded face Collin choked on his laughter, stumbling over the steps leading up to his front porch.

“Collin you’re not actually making the concept of activating at all more alluring.” She did look rather disgusted.

He continued to laugh and hopped up to his front door before turning back to her, “Heh, and what if I offered myself to you just for the occasion?”

Annalise’s bright blue eyes widened, as if they could take up any more space on her small mousey face. The contrast of pink on her pale cheeks was ridiculous and Collin had to focus to keep a straight face, but she did one better, looking down her nose at him.

“That’s illegal brother!” She hissed, “The pureblood boy…Father would have my head!”

“But Anna, don’t you know?” He teased, “The highest preference is the one you love. Can you imagine it? Not only am I a pureblood, something sought by so many rogues it’s become a crime of the highest order to steal my blood, but aren’t I the one you love?”

Her pink cheeks betrayed her words, but she insisted, “O-Of course not!”

“And if we’re so sworn to each other as your mother claims then it wouldn’t be illegal, it would be an act between lovers.”

“Collin that’s so vulgar oh my goodness!” Her voice was getting shrill and his amusement was palpable to the three women gathered at the stairs.

“Oh good, you’re back, Cassandra had just flown off the balcony to search for you,” announced a forth as she entered from the kitchen. Rishas was the eldest of the lot, a pureblood like Collin but inactive like Annalise. She had sworn an oath years earlier that she would not feed until the lot of her family had done so first so she was waiting on Annalise just like everyone else.

“Collin’s in trouble~” he heard third born Elswyth sing from the stairs where she sat on the railing next to her twin Marsha and second born daughter Lea. Collin raised a brow and Anna’s worried expression fell right back into place as she closed the door behind herself.

“What’s she talking about, Rishas?” He glanced around the room and noticed faint hand prints of blood along the walls as if someone had stumbled along the hallway gasping the surface to steady themselves.

“Elswyth how about you make yourself useful and find Cassandra before she collapses somewhere,” Rishas barked, her motherly persona leaking out of her as the situation called.

“Cassandra? Collapse? Give in to her wounds? As if. Rishas you don’t know our sister very well do you?” Elswyth complained; leaning back at such an awkward angle it was a wonder she hadn’t fallen off the railings.

Marsha leaned forward over the banister, her glassy eyes lidded and tired from her earlier meal, “I see death coming for her to pass judgment on her life… and she’ll spit in his face and demand trial by combat.”

“A couple arrows aren’t going to take her down; at least not before she knows Collin’s still alive,” Lea insisted, standing straight between the twins, almost regal and betraying nothing of the monster she was.

Rishas eyed the three of them before turning back to Collin. He didn’t need to see his own reflection to understand why Rishas’s lips turned down in an instantly unnerved frown.

There wasn’t a lot Collin feared in the world. But Cassandra, fifth born daughter of Lucifer and his prized Halfling general, anything concerning her was terrifying because she was terrifying. She was the one who Lucifer had “punished forever more” and there was a rage in her blood red eyes that had struck fear into Collin’s heart the moment he’d woken up with his memories lost and that black haired demon sitting on the foot of his bed, invading his space and hissing words of hate. Cassandra had activated at five years of age for reasons Collin couldn’t remember and his sisters refused to inform him. She was also the only one of the seven their father ever allowed on the adult hunts. She was the strongest, no contest, and for some reason, for the last seven years she had approached Collin with either the utmost animosity or the most carefully placed distance. And she was searching for him…to see if he was still alive…?

“Collin…?”

“That’s Cassandra’s blood on the walls?” He mouthed. Must have staggered her, but his sisters were right, Cassandra was much harder to take down.

“Yes—Ah…” Rishas shook her head, “It appears your little hunt has captured the attention of…a different kind of hunter.”

Oh. Collin felt the pit growing in his stomach. It was a little known fact that Cassandra had a ‘game’ going with a traveling huntress who specialized in archery and the full on eradication of the vampire race. Cassandra herself often came home in need of some major medical attentions but she always survived.

Collin on the other hand…well he’d met the woman once. He’d ended up on the brink of death and striking a deal with the grim reaper, getting himself placed in this world called Illusions for some time.