The living are the keepers of the past, whether they want the burden or not
I closed my eyes, inhaling her scent—a delicate fragrance of lilies that seemed to calm the very air around us. Her small, warm hand gently stroked my back, and in her velvety voice, the one that seemed to captivate everyone, she whispered soothing words into my ear. She hummed softly, perhaps hoping her voice, with all its beauty, would ease the turmoil in my soul.
I leaned in, my breath warm against her cool skin, and inhaled again, savoring the scent of her. Then, with a barely noticeable movement, I made a small cut along her soft neck with my claw. Blood, darker and richer than any human's, began to well up beneath her snow-white skin—tempting, intoxicating. I knew those sweet drops would offer me the salvation I longed for.
"Don't," Luna whispered, her voice barely audible.
But I didn't listen. I leaned in closer, close enough to feel her shiver under the heat of my breath.
"You know this isn't the answer," she said, her tone firm yet gentle. "It will only make you addicted, and you'll never be free."
Her gaze softened, and her smile was as tender as it was understanding.
Other vampires would have done anything to have control over me, all of them except the one whose blood I wanted now.
"What should I do?" I asked, my voice tight, betraying the agony I tried so hard to mask.
I wanted to say more—It hurts so much, but pride held the words back.
"I know," she murmured, her voice a balm against the storm in my chest.
Her fingers continued to stroke my hair gently, and my eyes followed the slow trickle of blood as it ran down her round breast. It was too tempting—just a sip, and the pain would vanish, replaced by the ecstasy of relief.
Luna leaned in closer, brushing her lips against mine in a soft, reassuring kiss. When she pulled away, her smile remained, faint but warm.
"Command me, my King," she whispered.
The silk of her veil slipped from her body, revealing to me everything I already knew—Luna had come to me, as she always did, knowing exactly what I needed.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the smoke from my cigarette curling in the dim light, lingering in the air around me like a forgotten thought. I didn't feel like I could stay, even if she was offering everything I needed. My fingers played with the edge of the cigarette, staring at the burn as it slowly disappeared into ash.
Luna was watching me now, but her gaze wasn't questioning, just steady and knowing.
I stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, standing up, my mind set on the only thing that kept me moving.
"I can't stay longer," I said, my voice low, but firm.
Luna didn't react immediately, but I could see the faint shadow of disappointment in her eyes, a flicker that was gone almost before it appeared. She knew, too. She always knew.
I turned away from her, and I pulled my shirt over my head, the fabric brushing against my skin. I moved mechanically, like I had done so many times before—pulling myself together, piece by piece. My fingers fumbled slightly as I buttoned up the shirt, but I couldn't afford to care.
I walked toward the door, my fingers brushing against the cold metal of the handle. "I'll be back," I said.
I stepped out into the darkness of the night, leaving her behind.
The cool night air wrapped around me as I walked home, the quiet of the streets pressing in like a heavy blanket. My steps echoed in the emptiness, a rhythmic sound that matched the steady beat of my heart.
The door creaked open with a soft groan, and I stepped inside, the familiar scent of the apartment filling my lungs. My steps were heavy, like I was carrying more than just my body.
The dim light in the living room caught Alex sitting on the couch, slouched and looking every bit as worn as I felt. He looked up when he heard me, and I could see the instant flicker of relief in his eyes. As if he'd been holding his breath, waiting to see if I would walk in covered in blood again.
I paused for a moment, taking in the sight of him—his face was haggard, shadows beneath his eyes like he'd been awake for days. It made me wonder how long he'd been waiting here.
"Shay," he said softly, the tension in his shoulders finally giving way.
I glanced down at myself, my hands and shirt free of blood, but still haunted by the scent of violence.
Alex got up and moved toward the kitchen. I could hear the clink of a mug being placed on the counter as he muttered, "Want me to make you some cocoa?"
I leaned against the doorframe, watching him move around the kitchen, the rhythm of his movements calming my restless mind.
"Yeah, sure," I said, my voice softer than I intended.
Alex turned to give me a brief glance, his tired eyes meeting mine. "You're really not as bad as I thought. Though, I can't exactly say the same about myself."
I chuckled quietly, though it lacked any real mirth. "Yeah, well, you look like hell."
"Thanks for noticing," he replied dryly, grabbing the cocoa mix and stirring it absently. "How long were you out there this time?"
"A little too long," I said, shrugging off the weight of the question.
He didn't push me. Alex just kept working, focused on the simple task of making cocoa, trying to restore some sense of normalcy to the chaos that had been consuming us both. It was strange, how something as mundane as a cup of cocoa could feel like a lifeline.
When he turned back, the mug in his hand, I took it gratefully, though my fingers were still cold, stiff. Alex sat down beside me on the couch, the silence between us easy, but not comfortable. Neither of us knew how to handle all this, but at least we had this—whatever this was.
"Thanks," I murmured as I took the first sip, feeling the warmth spread through me.
(...)
Luna successfully brewed the antidote, and Alice began to recover, albeit slowly. Des came with me, though I couldn't quite understand why. Perhaps he, too, was struggling to find his place after the battle. Alice needed constant rest, which meant there wasn't much he could do, even if he wanted to hang around.
"Where are we going?" Des asked, his tone curious yet nonchalant.
"To the Blutkaiser residence," I replied.
Losing Jo had hit Coffee the hardest, second only to me. After her friend's death, she withdrew completely, locking herself in her room for weeks. No one saw her; she spoke to no one. She didn't even go to school—what was the point, after all, without Jo? She spent most of her days in isolation.
In the past week, though, she had occasionally come down for dinner with her family. Her father, Mr. Blutkaiser, watched her every move with a concerned expression. It was hard to imagine the old bat looking anything but stoic, but there he was, filled with worry. Yet Coffee reassured him, telling him that she was fine, that she just needed more time to heal. But deep down, they both knew it wasn't going to be that simple. She would never be truly fine again.
The first surprise came last night when Mr. Blutkaiser contacted me personally. I almost slammed the door in his face, but then he warned me that if I did, he'd break it down. So, I listened.
The second shock was when he bowed deeply, asking for my forgiveness and thanking me for saving his daughter's life. To say I was taken aback would be an understatement. Even the toothbrush in my hand fell.
The third came when he asked for my help with Coffee. I listened to his concerns, then assured him that I would visit her the next day. It was around this moment that I noticed his piercing gaze soften just a little, and he even attempted a smile—one that, despite his best efforts, didn't quite come off.
So, this is how I ended up standing in front of the Blutkaiser residence in Mecsekalja, feeling like a complete mess, trying to figure out how much a single brick from this lavish villa could be worth.
Des whistled in admiration, and I kicked him in the ankle, before I reached for the bell—though there was no need to. The wrought iron gate simply opened in front of us. The butler ushered us in, and Mr. Blutkaiser thanked me once more for coming. Taking the lead, he led us upstairs to his daughter's room.
Before I stepped inside, he placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently.
"Please, bring my daughter back."
"I'll do what I can," I assured him, then turned the doorknob.
Des followed me in and closed the door behind us. The room was tastefully decorated, well-equipped, and orderly. But there was one glaring flaw: instead of a bed, a coffin rested in the center of the room. I wondered if the legends were true, but then I dismissed the thought. Mica didn't sleep in a coffin, so I figured it was just Coffee's morbid taste.
"And how do you plan to get her out of here?" Des asked, eyeing the room with a hint of sarcasm. "I think there's an ax in the trunk if you need it…"
"I don't need an ax," I replied quickly. "Knocking will be enough."
I tapped on the black, varnished wood of the coffin.
"Who is it?"
"It's me," I answered.
"Who is me?" she replied, her voice sharp.
"Shaytan," I clarified.
"Shaytan…" she repeated softly.
"Would you mind climbing out of your coffin?" I asked, jumping back just in time to avoid the coffin lid slamming onto my chin.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped, clearly not in a friendly mood. "Leave me alone, and don't come back again!"
"What are you talking about?" I grinned, even though my heart felt like it was breaking. "We're friends. I'm here to pull you out of your self-pity."
"I don't need you! I told you, leave me alone!" she yelled, about to retreat back into her shell. But I stopped her, grabbing the lid of the coffin.
"Everyone needs someone when the world feels like it's falling apart," I said, holding out my hand to her. "Now take it."
"What are you doing?" Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Giving you a helping hand, isn't that clear?" I frowned at her.
And then, she smiled. A tiny curve at the corner of her lips that, in the dim light of the room, felt like a brief flash of sunshine. I felt like I could say such sentimental crap at any time, just to see a smile on the skinny face again.
She accepted my hand, and I pulled her out of the coffin. In that moment, I realized that, even though things might never be right again, one day we would move on from this pain. One day, we'd smile without tears. Coffee sobbed.
Only later did I learn that Coffee was thinking of Jo in that moment. Only later did she tell me that when her mother had died, and her father couldn't bear to be near her because she reminded him too much of the woman he had loved, Jo had been the one to save her.
In her grief, Coffee had set out to drown her sorrows in human blood. She had crossed paths in the neighborhood with Jo several times already, and the temptation of Jo's sweet blood was hard to resist. But at the last moment, she hesitated. Jo had gently taken her by the arm, inviting her into their house.
When Coffee had broken down, Jo had wrapped her in a comforting embrace. The vampire girl's senses were overwhelmed by the enticing scent, yet she didn't bite. Perhaps it was something in Jo's soothing actions that held her back. That night, Coffee had stayed at Jo's, lying beside her in bed, quietly seeking solace. Then Jo took the vampire girl's hand.
When Coffee had asked in surprise what she was doing, but the human girl just smiled softly, saying she was simply offering a hand in troubled times. And that night, Coffee had fallen asleep, lulled by the sickeningly sweet scent of a human.
The next morning, Jo had made her scrambled eggs, a small gesture that, while not taking away the vampire's hunger, managed to soften the bitterness hiding deep inside her chest.