Only love can break a heart.
"You should rest," said Simon. "You have a tough fight ahead of you."
I shrugged my shoulders and held out my hand instead. And he slid his transparent fingers on my palm.
Jo sat stiffly in the silk-covered chair, every muscle tense.
The air was rich with the tempting aroma of the feast before her, but she remained frozen, eyes locked on the intricately designed ceramic bowl in front of her. She seemed unable, or unwilling, to meet the gaze of the monster seated across from her.
Ephraim, in contrast, ate with a calm, dignified air, each movement refined and deliberate.
"Eat," he commanded suddenly, his voice a sharp intrusion.
Jo flinched at his tone, her hand trembling as she picked up the spoon. But the bowl before her remained untouched. With a sigh, Ephraim gestured, and a female vampire entered, silently filling Jo's plate before retreating. Despite the steaming, fragrant soup, Jo didn't so much as taste it.
"Do you think I need poison to kill you?" Ephraim's voice dripped with amused mockery. "If I wanted you dead, it wouldn't require such subtleties."
"Why are you doing this?" Jo asked softly, finally daring to look at him.
"Why am I offering you food?" His reply was steeped in sarcasm.
She shook her head. "Why did you kidnap me? Why are you keeping me here?"
Ephraim paused, his hand hovering mid-air before continuing with his meal. His piercing gaze met hers, and Jo visibly recoiled, her instincts urging her to flee from the predator before her.
"I want my son on my side," he stated simply. "Every father wants his son to fight alongside him. Now eat. I won't repeat myself."
Jo reluctantly dipped her spoon into the soup. Though she must have been starving, she betrayed no sign of it, savoring each bite with deliberate caution. When she finally set down her spoon, her eyes met Ephraim's.
"Shay won't join you," she declared quietly.
I stepped protectively in front of her, knowing full well that I couldn't stop Ephraim if he chose to attack. Yet, the aspiring king merely continued cutting his meat.
"If you kill me, Shay will never forgive you," Jo added.
"Do you really think you matter that much to him?" Ephraim's tone was cold, probing.
"If you didn't believe that, you wouldn't have kidnapped me," Jo retorted.
A chuckle rumbled from Ephraim's chest. "He would fight for you until his last breath. But what could you do for my son?" he asked suddenly.
Jo blinked, startled. "What?"
He didn't answer, focusing instead on his meal. After a pause, he continued, "Perhaps you need my servant's help to eat?"
Jo stiffened but resumed eating, her movements mechanical. Ephraim, having finished his meal, watched her intently as she nibbled at the food.
"You see me as an evil monster," he murmured. When Jo remained silent, he pressed on, "But humans were the first to take everything from me."
Jo stared at him, wide-eyed. Ephraim's smile was sharp, predatory.
"I once wondered what would happen if we were all the same," he mused. "If only monsters roamed this earth. It seemed a wonderful world—a world where we wouldn't need to hide, or fear. Can you understand that?"
Jo's silence stretched on, and Ephraim sighed, a note of frustration seeping into his voice.
"I hoped you might understand," he said, his tone softer. "You love one of my sons, and have befriended the other. I thought you might see beyond the monster."
"I can't understand you," Jo said quietly. For a moment, I thought Ephraim would erupt in anger.
He clenched his jaw, the sound of grinding teeth filling the room. My heart raced, the tension nearly suffocating.
"I haven't lived through what monsters have," Jo continued, her voice steady despite the palpable danger. "But I don't think we're so different. We both feel pain, anger, love, and hate. We respond to kindness the same way."
Ephraim regarded her in silence, his expression unreadable and I just shook my head. Ephraim, the aspiring Fifth King, Leader of the Vampires, suddenly had no idea what to do with what a simple human girl had to say.
He didn't respond. When Jo finished, he merely signaled for his servants to escort her out. The memory dissolved before me, only to be replaced by another.
Jo remained a prisoner, but something had definitely changed. She was moved to a windowless room.
"Interesting."
Jo froze at the familiar voice, her entire body stiffening. I knew she would have preferred to bolt from the bed, to flee, but she was paralyzed. The monster approached, his steps slow and deliberate, each one filled with menace. Jo lowered her head, trembling slightly. His hand shot out, gripping her chin and jerking her head up. He leaned in so close, his lips nearly brushed hers.
"You seem to have forgotten your place, human."
Even if Jo had wanted to respond, her voice was lost. She couldn't meet the vampire boy's gaze, her body shaking uncontrollably. I clenched my fists, my own body trembling with an uncontrollable, all-consuming rage.
"Kain."
Though Jo didn't dare look up, the vampire boy shifted his gaze toward the door.
"You weren't the one entrusted with supervising the human girl," Ábel hissed, his tone menacing, yet his eyes betrayed a flicker of genuine alarm.
Kain chuckled, releasing Jo's face. Red marks lingered on her pale skin. He sauntered to the door but paused beside his brother. Leaning in close, a dangerous smile curled his lips.
"That girl is mine."
With that, he left without another word. Ábel closed the door behind him and walked to Jo, sitting quietly on the bed beside her. He didn't touch her or try to pull her closer, merely offering his presence as a quiet comfort. Maybe that was what Jo needed. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Are you okay?" Ábel asked softly.
Jo gave a small nod, wiping her tears away. Ábel mimicked her movement, his fingers brushing her cheek with a gentle curiosity.
"Why are your eyes watering?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. Perhaps he feared something was seriously wrong.
"Humans cry when they're sad," Jo replied softly.
Ábel brought his finger to his lips, tasting the tear.
"Salty," he remarked.
"What do monsters do when they're sad?" Jo asked, gathering her composure.
Ábel glanced down at her, his large eyes contemplative. He seemed to mull over the question, as if it was a foreign concept to him.
"I think most monsters try to destroy what makes them sad," he said lightly. "If it's gone, it can't hurt you anymore."
Jo didn't flinch. Perhaps she was too drained to be scared. She simply nodded, as if the explanation made perfect sense.
(...)
"I want to see Izzi," Jo stated quietly.
Ephraim gave no indication he'd heard her.
"I want to see Izzi," she repeated, her voice firmer. Ephraim's gaze lifted slowly, a deliberate and almost menacing motion.
Even if Jo felt a flicker of fear under his intense stare, she refused to show it. I held my breath—hadn't humans learned that playing with fire invites getting burned?
"Do you think you're in a position to make demands?" the aspiring ruler asked, his tone cold and dismissive.
Jo inhaled deeply, summoning her courage.
"Will you let me see Izzi? Please?"
Ephraim offered no response, merely resuming his meal in silence. Jo watched him for a few moments, hope slipping away as he ignored her. Frustrated, she prodded her food without eating. Yet, to my surprise, when dinner ended, Ábel didn't escort Jo back to her room. Instead, they paused in front of another door in a similar corridor.
"I'm waiting for you out here," Ábel assured Jo, his voice steady and filled with a protective determination. "If you see even the slightest sign she might attack, scream, and I'll be right by your side."
There was such conviction in his tone that even I believed he could face any monster for Jo's sake. He seemed to expect gratitude, so her question took him by surprise.
"Why do you say that?"
"The vampire girl..." Ábel hesitated, like a child caught doing something they shouldn't. "I think she's really hungry for blood. It would be safest if I stayed with you, but I know you want to be alone with her. So, if anything happens... just call for me, okay?"
"Thank you, Ábel," Jo replied, gently stroking the top of his head.
Ábel smiled, his expression reminiscent of a content child, before pulling out a golden key adorned with magical charms. He inserted it into the lock, turned it, and opened the door.
Coffee floated in the air for a few moments, like a weightless feather before crashing down in front of Ábel. The gust nearly knocked Jo off her feet, and the entire residence seemed to tremble under the vampire girl's angry strike.
Ábel parried the blow effortlessly. Though he didn't retaliate, his gaze sharpened, the warmth in his demeanor vanishing. The childlike naivety vanished in an instant, leaving behind a battle-hardened monster.
For the first time, I saw the ruthless side of Ábel, the part of him that wouldn't hesitate to tear out Coffee's heart if it came to that.
Coffee's eyes widened, her body trembling as though her legs might give way, but she remained standing. With a hesitant step toward Jo, disbelief flickered across her face as if she couldn't believe Jo was really there.
"Johi," she whispered weakly.
Jo smiled softly, taking Coffee's trembling hand and leading her into the room. She nodded to Ábel, who closed the door behind them, his expression still uncertain. The two girls stood in silence for several moments, as though neither knew how to break the quiet, but Jo never released Coffee's hand.
"Are you okay?" Coffee finally asked in a quiet voice.
Jo glanced at her, concern flickering in her eyes. "I should be asking you that. Are you okay?"
Indeed, Coffee looked terrible. Her face was gaunt, her skin pallid and stretched thin, resembling parchment. Her hair hung in disheveled tangles over her bony shoulders, and she looked as though she hadn't eaten in weeks.
"What happened?"
Coffee remained stubbornly silent, perhaps afraid to utter the word "blood" in Jo's presence or to reveal the monster within her that would perish without the liquid that keeps humans alive.
Jo didn't push further. Instead, she gently guided the vampire girl to the bed, sitting down beside her. Silence draped over them like a heavy blanket, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, Jo broke the stillness, unable to contain the question that had gnawed at her for days.
"Dad... he's dead, isn't he?" she asked, her voice rasping from the strain.
Coffee's head snapped up at the words, her face hardening into an unreadable mask. Her eyes flashed with a mix of compassion and sorrow, but no words came. She opened her mouth several times, struggling to speak, but nothing emerged. Perhaps she feared that voicing the truth would shatter the fragile girl beside her. Yet, Jo didn't need the words. One look at Coffee's face was enough. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm relieved," Jo confessed softly, startling Coffee. "I'm glad he doesn't have to suffer anymore."
Coffee closed her eyes tightly, as if trying to block out the sight of Jo's pain. Her fists clenched, trembling with a toxic mix of anger and bitterness.
"Shaytan is to blame for everything!" she spat, her voice laced with venom. "If it wasn't for him, none of this would have happened!"
A heavy weight settled in my chest, for I knew the vampire girl was right.
"Don't say that," Jo pleaded, her voice breaking.
"But it's the truth," Coffee protested, her tone almost accusatory. "He's his son."
Jo shook her head slowly, resolutely.
"This is all my fault," she whispered. "I didn't trust you. When I found out your secrets, I didn't trust you enough to tell you about the monster that visited me."
Surprise flickered across Coffee's face, quickly giving way to understanding. Tears slipped from her eyes.
"I was afraid," Jo admitted softly, "afraid to tell you that I knew. I wanted you to tell me."
Coffee looked up, her eyes begging for forgiveness. Jo offered a faint smile, brushing a tangled strand of hair away from Coffee's face, tucking it gently behind her ear. She didn't flinch at the sight of Coffee's red irises or the blackened whites of her eyes.
"When I discovered your secrets, I wasn't surprised," Jo said, her voice thoughtful. "It felt like I always knew, deep down. And today, when I saw your eyes, I was certain. I've seen those eyes before."
Coffee's sobs grew more pitiful, as though a red-hot dagger twisted in her heart.
"I figured it out once before, didn't I?" Jo asked softly, without accusation or anger.
Coffee gave a small, hesitant nod. Jo sighed, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. She wrapped her arms around the trembling vampire girl, who dissolved into bitter, wrenching sobs. They sat like that for a long while, clinging to each other in shared sorrow. Eventually, Coffee's sobs subsided, leaving them in a silent embrace. At some point, I joined them on the bed, watching the two. My mind was a storm of thoughts, and yet, it felt oddly quiet.
"Aren't you angry?" Coffee asked abruptly.
"At first, I was," Jo admitted, causing Coffee to tense, her body rigid with apprehension. "I was hurt, deeply. But then I realized you were far more afraid of me than I ever was of you."
It was true. Like Coffee, I had feared Jo seeing me for what I truly was. We shared that fear—the terror of revealing our true selves, knowing that even if Jo could accept us, things would never be the same. If she understood who we really were, we could never hide it again. Our difference would become an undeniable part of our reality.
"You don't have to be ashamed for not being human," Jo continued gently. "Being different doesn't make you bad."
She pulled back slightly, a warm grin spreading across her face. "See? You have such beautiful eyes; I could never forget them."
There was no hint of sarcasm or malice in Jo's words, just pure sincerity. The love in her gaze was undeniable, convincing me she meant every word. Coffee laughed—a sound light and unburdened, a laugh I had never heard from her before.
Jo's expression softened with delight, her eyes glowing with the warmth I had always cherished in her. I had always known that Coffee was drawn to Jo for a reason. However, at that moment I realized that the vampire girl's world revolved a little bit around Jo. I realized that for Coffee, Jo was warmth and love in a cold, gray world.
"No more secrets," Jo said, holding out her pinky with a playful smile.
"No more secrets," Coffee echoed, linking her pinky with Jo's.
They continued talking for hours, their voices weaving through the quiet night until the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon. Eventually, lying side by side on the small bed, comforted by each other's presence, they drifted into peaceful sleep.
Ephraim stood in silent contemplation, his gaze fixed on the two girls as they breathed softly in their sleep. Ábel knelt at his feet, head bowed in submission.
"Father," I murmured, my voice tinged with guilt. "It's my fault. I failed to lead the human girl back to her room in time."
For a few tense moments, Ephraim remained silent, his focus unbroken. Then, with deliberate slowness, he tore his eyes from the bed and directed his attention to the boy kneeling before him.
"I don't recall giving any orders to return the human girl to her room," he replied, his tone cool and measured.
Ábel lifted his head, surprise flashing in his eyes, but Ephraim had already turned back to the slumbering girls.
"The vampire girl needs to feed," he said flatly, "or she'll end up devouring her little friend."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.
"Cunning scum," I muttered under my breath as the memory dissipated, fading into the recesses of my mind, only to be replaced by another, equally vivid recollection.
Coffee's breath trembled as she leaned over Jo, her entire body quivering with barely contained tension. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes burned with a crimson intensity. For a fleeting moment, I feared she might lose control and bite her.
But then, with visible effort, the vampire girl pursed her lips and pulled away from Jo's sleeping form. She gently pulled the covers up over her friend before sliding off the bed and resting wearily against its edge, her gaze averted as though afraid to look at Jo. She didn't see Jo's eyes flutter open, the human girl quietly observing her for a moment.
Jo lay still, listening to the muffled grunts that occasionally escaped Coffee. Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore. She shifted noisily and sat up on the bed.
"Good morning," Coffee whispered, a faint smile gracing her lips as she turned to Jo.
"Good morning," Jo replied, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
Both girls tried to maintain a facade of normalcy, but I noticed — and I was sure Jo did too — that Coffee's hands were trembling. She was nearing her limit. The hunger gnawed at her, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she lost control and bit Jo.
A servant entered silently, carrying a tray with a glass and a jug. Without a word, they placed the offering on the table and left. Jo stood, moving towards the table, but paused when she realized Coffee hadn't followed.
"What's wrong?"
Coffee shook her head, stubbornly remaining where she was. Jo sighed and returned to sit beside her.
"Drinking blood doesn't make you a monster," Jo said firmly. "It won't make me hate you."
Coffee didn't respond, her eyes downcast. I suspected she avoided looking at Jo because the sight of her gently pulsing vein was too tempting. Every heartbeat must have echoed in Coffee's ears, the intoxicating scent filling her senses. She couldn't speak; her throat was too dry, her entire being thirsting for Jo's blood.
"Come on, Izzi," Jo coaxed, taking the vampire's hand.
She tried to pull her towards the table, but Coffee, even in her weakened state, was immovable to a human. After a moment, Jo gave up and let go.
To my surprise, Coffee's gaze lifted. She watched as Jo moved to the table, her eyes widening when she saw the cup in Jo's hand. I held my breath as Jo raised the goblet and drank its contents in one swift motion.
Coffee's lips parted in shock as Jo, pale but resolute, smiled confidently. Filling the cup again, Jo returned to Coffee and gently placed the goblet in her hand.
"It's okay," she reassured, her smile soft and encouraging.
Entranced by Jo's loving green eyes, Coffee slowly lifted the cup to her lips. She tasted it tentatively before drinking deeply, every drop vanishing in hungry gulps.
"You need to be strong, Izzi," Jo said softly. "You can't starve yourself any longer."
She refilled the cup, and this time, Coffee drank without hesitation until the jug was empty.
"Thank you," Coffee whispered at last, her voice frail but steady. For the first time in a long while, her irises returned to their natural hue. Though she still looked thin, a healthy flush now colored her cheeks.
"You protect me, and I protect you," Jo said gently.
In that moment, I realized how true those words were. Even the strongest monsters sometimes need a human to save them, to accept them. I saw the weight that Coffee had carried for years lift, replaced by the simple, unconditional embrace of a friend.
Coffee smiled, her eyes sparkling like a sky full of stars. Tears shimmered at the corners, but her happiness was undeniable. My own lips curled into a smile. Jo had accepted us for who we were—and I knew that it meant more to Coffee than it did to me.
My body relaxed and Simon's lips curved slightly upwards. I was grateful to him for rushing back with these memories.
"Thank you," I murmured softly.
Simon's smile deepened into something genuine, a rare warmth gleaming in his dead eyes.
"You're welcome," he replied, his voice carrying its usual otherworldly resonance. "Now sleep, Shay."
"Wait," I interjected. "Did she send a message for me?"
He shook his head, and a subtle pang of disappointment settled in my chest.
"Sleep," he urged gently.
When his hand brushed over my forehead, I didn't resist. The soothing touch drew me effortlessly into the embrace of sleep.