Grace laughed, swirling the alcohol in a glass as she focused on Murphy. “A hellscape is definitely how I would have described it when I first got here,” she told her with a nod. Moving to Shadow Falls, running from her problems…it was a lot for her and the culture shock between New York and Shadow Falls was huge. She needed some time to adjust. “It is pretty awful here unless you know where the fun is.”
Thankfully she had been able to figure out where some of the fun was. At least that was something. It gave her a chance to fit in with the locals a little more, which was exactly what Grace needed. If she was fitting in then maybe she’d be safer. Maybe the Hopkins hunters wouldn’t track her down if she was just a normal girl.
“Eh,” Grace said with a shrug. “I was looking for someone…I needed something of a change. Figured I could definitely get that in a place like this.” Whether or not Grace would stay in Shadow Falls truly remained to be seen.
There was a lot of truth to Grace’s words. Murphy had found out pretty quickly that the only place of note, so far, was Reid’s club, and it was where she found herself more often than not. But she was easily bored, and she knew that if she kept up this routine, it would grow stale quickly. With luck, and the right person, surely this town had more to offer her. As the days ticked on, however, she was beginning to doubt it.
Eyeing the girl as she spoke, Murphy found herself oddly surprised to hear that they were almost in a similar situation. Her issues with the Knights drove her here, searching out her sire like a frightened child. It was certainly a change. “Compared to most other places, I’d agree. It’s definitely... different, here. At least these people know how to have a good time during the Changing. A good place to hide in, for sure. No one would look for anyone of worth in a place like this.”
Grace laughed and moved to grab the bottle. “Then great minds think alike,” she told her. “I’m not one to waste alcohol. It’s too expensive for that, especially the good shit.” She poured herself some in one of the empty glasses and sipped it. “This is the really good shit too.” Grace wasn’t an alcoholic or anything, but she did enjoy a good drink and a good time out on the town. There was nothing wrong with that, especially when the alcohol was free. That just made things better in her eyes.
“Well, you’ve already won me over for now, Murphy,” Grace told her with a firm nod. “I’lll probably be cursing you come morning when I’ve got a raging hangover, but for now you’re my new best friend.” Her tone was teasing as she watched the woman. Her comments about the alcohol were enough of a giveaway as to her species. She really did wonder why vampires came to a town like this when they had the whole world and unlimited time at their disposal.
“So you’re new to this lovely little town? Don’t think I’ve seen you around before, though I might be wrong. I’m still pretty new too.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone cursed my name,” she said with a wry smile. It was a fact that she enjoyed for the most part. The thought that, come morning, no matter how inebriated a person got they were still able to remember her. It gave her a rush of power, of control, albeit a small one, but she latched onto it like a lifeline. It felt a little childish after all these years, but Murphy took her pleasures wherever she could, and it wasn’t as if anyone had to know.
Observing the woman’s lax attitude and lack of hesitation when it came to the liquor, Murphy was amused by the balls on her. Not many approached her so casually, and even less were so open to accepting a stranger’s booze, but for once she couldn’t find it in herself to be upset about it. Maybe she really was desperate for company.
With a short laugh, Murphy shook her head at the other’s words. “I wouldn’t call this town lovely. It’s a hellscape. Where fun goes to die.” A bit dramatic, even for her, but at least she was being honest about it. Nothing had gone right since she showed up in town, and it wouldn’t be long for even the luster of Saints and Sinners to wear off. “But yes, I’m new to town. It’s unfortunate, but I’ve got friends here. What’s your excuse?”
Her lips pressed together in a smile. It all seemed to come together perfectly. With a few ‘friends’ to utilize, she would be back to work in no time. And who knows. Maybe she could find herself an accomplice. “I’m sure we will.”
Elisabeth took a more thorough look at the female. “Murphy, you said?” There was something familiar sounding in the name. There was no reason to dwell on it. After all this time, she was bound to run into someone with the same name in the past. “I’ll be here until I get bored. Trying to give it a few months, but we’ll see.” She hoped matters were settled within months. If not, she would take matters into her own hands. “I’m Elisabeth, by the way.”
Ever since donning her surname as her moniker, Murphy had gotten used to the strange looks and the questions about it. As annoying as it was sometimes, it was far easier to deal with than the curl of people’s lips and the general distaste Maeve left on even her own tongue. Still, she couldn’t help the slightest narrow of her eyes at the questioning tone, but quickly smoothed it out. No point in creating an argument, not now.
“A like-minded individual. Finally, I found someone in this hellhole that understands.” It would be best to tread lightly with this newest acquaintance, and Murphy made a mental note to question her sire about this woman later on. There was a chance the two had run into each other in the past, or at least knew of each other. Any new information would be good to have. For now, she would settle on enjoying herself. “I’m starting to get hungry. You’re more than welcome to join and I can show you the infamous back rooms if you’d like. It’s nothing compared to a real hunt, but at least you wont immediately get on the human cops’ shitlist. There’s always time for that later.”
“Believe me, neither am I.” Elisabeth glanced towards the woman as she finished off her drink. She needed an alibi, perhaps she can use this one as such. It appeared they had quite a bit in common. That would make the relationship less unbearable. It was a surprise to Elisabeth how much she cared at the moment. Perhaps the boredom has the better of her. Regardless, a drinking acquaintance was preferred over a long term friendship. It would prove useful, at least until she moved on to the next city. “I have plenty to waste on whatever your little heart desires.”
A light chuckle escaped her lips. “Hogging seating in a crowded place tends to upset some people.” Either this girl had a poor perception of fun, or the blonde misjudged her. She was hoping it was the latter. She turned towards the other female, leaning in closer as she draped her arm over the couch behind them. “Honey, I did not spend the last five centuries following the rules. That is exactly what I’m looking for.”
The sudden closeness coupled with the words being spoken set off alarm bells in her mind, her hackles raising at the mention of five fucking centuries. That alone explained the bizarre flip-flop of her emotions throughout their brief conversation, as if the more instinctive side of her brain was trying to keep her in check. Murphy had been around older vampires a lot throughout her lifetime--it would be hard to avoid them, given who her sire is--but there was usually a warning before the meeting. A be on your best behavior, Maeve. This was wholly unexpected, unwelcome, and she was unsure of how to proceed. Grin and bear it would be the best approach, maybe smoothing over any offense she might have given. With her, that was always a risk.
“Then I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends,” her smile was tight, uncomfortable with the close proximity that she hadn’t initiated, but she forced herself to relax. It shouldn’t be difficult to make at least acquaintances with this woman. It was obvious that they had their similarities, likely more than she had anticipated. Focus on the positive, maybe have a bit of fun, and hopefully not get her head ripped off by her betters. “I’m Murphy, just for future reference since I’m sure we’ll be seeing loads of each other in the coming months. How long are you in town for again?”
The other female had an attitude about her, one that Elisabeth could appreciate. People tend to be too calm, pushovers even. Bossing them around becomes tiresome quickly. There was nothing exciting about the dynamic. At least someone in this town did not tolerate someone else’s trouble. She was certain it would prove useful, at the very least for entertainment.
Elisabeth downed most of her drink while listening about the bar. “By the looks of this town, I’m sure they make a fortune that way.” She missed the days when the humans did not regulate every aspect of their lives. Not only was it unnecessary, it resulted in these these clubs becoming the only safe locations to live. It was bound to be a long stay; she already longed for a change of scenery. “So I suppose if I catch you on any other night, you’ll make this place fun?” she asked. “I’m sure you take company once in a while. Would make roaming this town more exciting.”
“Potentially,” It was mildly frustrating that the woman still didn’t rise to the bait. Normally, when Murphy dropped the friendly act and cut to the chase, people tended to react negatively. Arguments happened more often than genuine conversations, and she was finding herself thrown for a loop for once. Either this woman had the patience of a saint, or Murphy was losing her edge. Neither of those sat particularly well with her.
“I’m usually not big on the whole buddy-buddy thing, not unless there’s something in it for me. But I might be inclined to change, given the right circumstances.” Plus, it might be nice to have someone who she wasn’t at odds with for once. If she did manage to find someone she didn’t royally piss off--which was rare enough on its own--she got bored of people too quickly. No one had yet to live up to the expectations she put upon them, whether they wanted it or not, and it just left her ultimately disappointed. “Though, I’ll admit I’m far more trouble than I’m worth. My kind of fun is... frowned upon, to put it nicely.”
This woman was one Grace didn’t recognize and after months of coming to Saints and Sinners, she knew the regular faces pretty well. Besides, someone like her definitely would have stood out in her mind. Or at least Grace liked to think that was the case. “Touché,” she chuckled with a shake of her head. “But you know some drunk or high kids have passed out on those couches before. God only knows what happened to them as a result.” Nothing good, but she hoped it wasn’t as amateur as drawing dicks on their faces. That was so high school.
“You’re just going to share expensive booze with a stranger? You know what, I think you’re my new favorite person,” Grace told her before plopping down and grabbing the bottle to pour some on one of the empty glasses. “I’m Grace, by the way. If I’m drinking your booze I figured I should at least introduce myself.”
“All sorts of horrible and depraved things, hopefully.” Anything less than that would’ve been too juvenile, and as amusing as it was to take advantage of unconscious humans in such a state, that particular fun had lost its charms ages ago. “Otherwise what would be the point. Serves them right, you know, for letting themselves be so vulnerable.”
That was certainly not a phrase Murphy had heard often in her life, but given the circumstances she wasn’t surprised. People always seemed to react well to free things, especially when there were no questions asked. “It’d go to waste, otherwise, and I’ve never liked wasting good liquor. Even if it does fuckall for me.” One of the biggest disappointments about being a vampire, but at least it helped the cravings. It was easier to pass the time between feedings with a bottle in hand.
Waving off the introduction, Murphy made a point to study the girl’s face and memorize it, trying to keep a catalogue of everyone she met in this godforsaken town. So far, this Grace was still on her good list. A potential ally, should anything go south. It also would make her look better to Amari. Like she was genuinely trying. These were all considered perks in her book. “It’s Murphy, and I really don’t care about the booze, so have at it. Most people think I’m a raging bitch anyway. Figured if I ply you with enough free liquor, you might be inclined to say otherwise. It’s almost entirely selfish.”
Tae frowned, puckering his lips out somewhat playfully as if he was seriously considering her question and toying with the implication. “You know what, that would have been a great idea. Wait here one sec,” he said, pivoting on his heel and walking a step towards the bar before turning back around to her with a goofy smile. “Nope. It’s some whiskey-blood thing. Bartender said pale chicks like you like them, sorry.” He said, walking closer and handing her the drink. Tae wasn’t typically a confrontational person and he couldn’t really excuse his outburst from their previous interaction. He also wasn’t well-versed in apologies, but luckily, she seemed okay to just plow ahead. That was more his style– smooth things over and hope for the best.
“Yeah, that’s what they call me. Other people just call me Tae,” he said with a nod. There, a personal detail to make him more personable. He allowed for a beat where she could introduce herself and they could attempt to talk like normal people who didn’t fight in public upon first meeting. He chuckled awkwardly at her question and nodded. “Yeah, apparently I was supposed to meet a blonde. I eventually found her, but she was definitely not you. Did you ever, uh, I don’t know. Finish going about your day?”
Murphy accepted the drink gracefully, quirking a well-manicured eyebrow at his admittedly accurate description of herself, even if “pale chicks” lacked the kind of oomph she typically liked when being described. She much preferred attractive, enticing. Irresistible. “It’s a good thing I’m not some human with an unfortunate skin tone, then. Can’t imagine this would’ve gone over well if that were the case.” She gently shook the glass, careful not to spill its contents, before taking a tentative sip. It was still better to be cautious, just in case.
“Murphy,” she offered in lieu of a proper greeting. Small talk wasn’t something she exactly enjoyed, so trying to dodge her way around the typical pleasantries worked out more in her favor. She was thankful to have a name to go with a face, however. If the situation called for it, he’d be easier to locate now. Her lips curling around the rim of the glass, she couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. “Man, you fucked up on all fronts then, didn’t you? It’s pretty funny. But hey, you got your money, and some desperate chick got... something out of it, I guess. It’s a little sad, don’t you think? Resorting to a love potion. Yikes. Good for you though.”
She could never understand the need for something so trivial, but she also wasn’t the type of person desperate for another’s affections. Time marched on and feelings dwindled. Love just didn’t exist, in her opinion, especially considering nothing was eternal. Only her kind and the constant hunger. Besides that, everything faded away eventually. At his question, she laughed again. She rolled her shoulders and settled more comfortably on the couch, humming as she thought. The day had started okay, got a little rocky in the middle, but had ended up here, of all places.
“I’d say I did, yeah. Ended pretty well as much as I can remember. Found this little gem,” she gestured to the room around them with a grin. What Reid had built here was no less than impressive, and she found herself constantly surprised at how much she liked it. “Turns out this place isn’t as much of a shithole as I was expecting it to be. No offense. Or maybe a little, actually.”
Dianna glared softly, slightly annoyed by the theatrics but wasn’t in a position to scold or roll her eyes. Seemed to be a common thing for vampires– the longer they were around, the more playful they were about death. This one seemed a little too charmingly smug. Nick would like this one, she thought. “Superhero or guardian angel, I don’t give a shit, but I sure owe you one,” she responded gruffly.
She clicked her tongue at the question, her hand pressing hard against the wound to apply pressure. She’d have to find a witch or risk the Muttropawlitan to get a doctor to let her in through the back door for some uninsured aide. The venom of the wolfsbane spread like a fire in her veins and Dianna focused on her hearing– scent was shot due to her wound. Footsteps and voices were about a half mile away. Whatever the choice was, they had to make it fast.
“It won’t until I drain the wolfsbane out,” she said, gritting her teeth and looking over her shoulder in the direction of the voices. “But we have visitors,” she said, looking to the trees. Her mind tracked out the woods, they were a quarter-mile from the Falls. Hunters strayed from there given it was a hotspot for sirens and harpies, whose songs would hypnotize them into a guaranteed death. It was worth the risk to shake the hunters, if they were at all familiar with the territory. Dianna nodded her head in that direction.
“The Falls are over there. A harpy can heal me,” she said, thinking aloud. Harpies had special healing powers and an alliance with one of the senior most members of the wolf pack was her leverage to talk one into helping her out. “And the hunters stay away from there,” she said, nodding back to the brunette. That was her signal, underscored by a man’s voice echoing through the woods.
“Josh?!”
Dianna sprinted through the trees towards the direction of the Falls, lagging slightly due to her injury but still fast than the incoming hunters.
If there was one thing about hunters that Murphy admired, it was that they really didn’t know when to give up. It wasn’t something she particularly liked about them, especially not when she was unfortunately one of their targets, but the resilience, the stick-to-it·iveness was admirable. She could hear them getting closer, could hear the erratic beat of the injured wolf’s heart. High off of a fresh kill and a good chase, Murphy smiled to herself.
it wasn’t difficult to keep up with a wolf, let alone an injured one, but Murphy paced herself regardless. It wouldn’t do well to get lost in unfamiliar territory when you’re being hunted, and as much as she knew she could handle anything these rednecks could throw at her, she couldn’t find it in herself to separate from someone weakened. A residual feeling from her time spent with Amari, surely. A trait she had been struggling to let go of as of late. It seemed it didn’t matter how many times she told herself that nothing good came of helping others, not when she still found herself in these situations.
There were a few close calls, a few grazes of an arrow against her skin that tore her clothes and ripped open her flesh, but the wounds had stitched up before the black blood could seep, let alone stain. The near-misses only fueled the excitement in her veins, and on several occasions she found herself laughing, amused despite the gravity of the situation. When they finally arrived, Murphy could feel the last lingering remnants of anger fade away, replaced now by exhilaration. Plus, the Falls were definitely a sight to behold. She wasn’t a nature girl by any stretch of the imagination, but one learned to find the beauty in life when it never ended. Letting out an excited laugh and clapping one hand on the wolf’s uninjured shoulder, Murphy turned to her newest companion with a grin.
“That was fun. You really think a harpy’s gonna help you? For your sake I hope so, because if you pass out I don’t think I’d be able to find my way back to town before you died, and no offense, but I really don’t need a wolf carcass on my hands on top of everything else.”
The blonde tried to suppress a laugh. It seemed she was constantly assigned to a boring town. “You lived here for a month and spent it lying around at a club?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She had a feeling the other woman was not as boring as she appeared. No one would remain in town if it was boring and miserable.
“I’m not surprised. People are awful no matter where you go. I came here a few days ago and everyone’s so welcoming.” She rolled her eyes to add emphasis to her point. From the looks of it, the crowd appeared more pleasant than other bars in town. If this was the place to be, she wondered what made it so special. “I heard there’s other rooms around here. Are they worth exploring or should I go out and make my own fun?”
Murphy offered a tight smile, only barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious tone of voice. There was something about the other that was rubbing her the wrong way, and it was frustrating her that she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Crossing her legs and then recrossing them, letting her body go lax and slide a little lower into the couch, Murphy shut her eyes instead of watching the spectacle around her. “Cute, but this is the first time for this particular incident. I’ve had a... trying week, to say the least, and I figured if I made it obvious enough, everyone would get the hint and fuck off.” She rolled her head towards the other, eyes glinting briefly in the low light before settling back into her previous position. “Plus, the couch is pretty damn comfy.”
“It’s the southern charm. Only, it’s not so charming when you’ve heard all the fake pleasantries and the oh, sweetie, bless your heart’s.” It was easy to mimic a southern drawl, especially when it was so similar to her old accent, the one she worked hard to rid herself of. “Besides me, this is about the only interesting thing in a 100 mile radius. There’s a room here for about every need you could possibly have. Hungry? Horny? Have at it. To your heart’s content, I’ve been told, so long as you got the money for it. I’ve seen them a couple of times but, well, look at me. As if I need to pay for a feed or a fuck.”
Tae approached Murphy with a drink for her in one hand, and his own drink in the other. Their last encounter had been, well, less than amicable. He called her a racist and she handed his ass back to him and wasn’t exactly wrong for doing so. Still, she was hot and had that sassy vibe about her that Tae was both terrified of and attracted to simultaneously. His best bet was to smooth things over because if he was at least not going to have a shot with her, he’d also like for her to not take shots at him.
She laid out on the couch of the club like slinky cat in the sun and he stopped for a moment to gaze in awe. Wipe the drool off your chin, dude. He closed his mouth, his peace offering in his hands.
“Oh, really? I’ll just take this drink I brought over for you and, I dunno, drink it myself, I guess,” he teased, rolling his eyes.
Never one to turn down free anything, Murphy was more than happy to give a proper welcome, but when she caught sight of the familiar face she frowned. Their last interaction had not gone over well, which wasn’t all that surprising when it came down to it, but the memory of the exchange was still fresh in her mind. She hadn’t been kind, never really was, but the sudden reappearance and with a peace offering? It usually wasn’t to be trusted.
“That depends. Did you lace it with vervain?” If it was, she knew she’d be able to smell it from here, but it was still satisfying to watch his expression shift at the words and her own lips pulled into a smirk. Play nice, she told herself, eyeing him carefully before folding her legs underneath her. There was no way he was ballsy enough to poison her, and it would look better on her part if she at least made an attempt at civility. Plus, Amari had a point about having a witch in her pocket. Maybe, she mused, he could be of use. “I’m just fucking with you. You’re the witch-dealer right? You ever make up that botched attempt at a sale?”
Elisabeth nursed on her drink as she waited for a response. Dark brown eyes scanned over her, looking for a sign of her decision. As she cleared a spot, the smirk on her face grew. Buying an extra drink was easy enough. She was also feeling generous enough to retrieve it.
“You have a point. A drink it is.” Elisabeth turned on her heels, quickly disappearing into the crowd. She returned a few moments later, two new drinks in hand. As she took her seat, she sat the other’s glass on the table. As she scanned across the dance floor, she held a bit of dread. The room was packed, yet uneventful. It will grow dull fast. “Please tell me there is something more thrilling to do in this town other than stand on a crowded dance floor listening to someone’s poor music selection.”
Curling her fingers around the chilled glass, Murphy couldn’t help but laugh at the woman’s statement. Finally, she thought, someone asking the right questions. “God, I have no fucking idea.” She pursed her lips before taking a sip, letting her own gaze wander about the club.
Reid had done well, and she would never doubt his achievements, but people were always the same. No matter the opportunities given to them, none of them truly ever indulged, and whenever they did eventually succumb to their base needs, it always left something to be desired. It was only a little bit disappointing for some one like her, who enjoyed watching someone let go. “I’ll let you know if I figure that one out. I’ve only been here a month and I got sick of this place within the first week. The people here are awful. This is about the only saving grace in this hell hole.”
He was handsome, with dark hair and even darker eyes. His lips had been so full and soft, delicate against the sharp instrument of his tongue. He wielded it like a dagger, using it to cut through the toughest parts of her, revealing a softness underneath that she had long since thought lost. It was strange how easy it was to succumb to him, to let his body cover hers in ways no man was ever allowed to before. It was stranger still when she enjoyed it, thrilled at the press of strong arms pinning her down, rough hands dragging across smooth skin and pulling away layers, both physical and metaphorical. The euphoria of those same lips, that dangerous tongue against the soft shell of her ear, along a pulse point that no longer thrummed with life made her dizzy.
She was stronger than him, there was no doubt about that. He was human, she was something else entirely, but with him it didn’t matter. She didn’t have to be strong, to be powerful, to be above everyone else. With him, she could submit. Allow herself to feel--small, frail, delicate, but never weak. He would take the reins and she would follow along, lovesick and delirious. He held total and unwavering control over her, and for the first time in her long life, Maeve was willing to give it up.
He aged, as all humans were to do, but he never lost his passion. The fever of their love never wavered, never once faltered no matter the atrocities she commited, the lives she took. He had accepted her, body and soul, and in turn she had accepted him. The answer to their problem was simple: an even exchange. No longer would he grow old, weak. No longer would she have to fear the day when she would lose him, too, just like all the others. Instead, they would have eternity to know one another, to love and to cherish each other. It had been so simple. So easy.
But Maeve had been a fool. Blinded by lust, by the quick wit that stunned and surprised her. He had known parts of her that no one else had known, and he used those weaknesses to his advantage. He was a thief, an assassin, and she had unknowingly given an enemy a weapon against herself, against her kind. The fever had worn off, and in its wake it left a clammy sickness, the knowledge that she had been wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong about all of it.
Black blood seeped into the sheets beneath her, staining the pure white with something unholy, shameful. A dagger--physical, real, painful--held her in place as she gasped and choked, that same abominable liquid clogging up her throat and spilling out across kiss bitten lips. What had once been tears leaked from her eyes as the reality of the situation settled in. She had shown her truest self, and now she was being punished. Thoughts danced around in her mind like a macabre ballet, memories of their shared history twisting and turning into something dark. Where there had once been joy and sunshine, she now only felt pain.
Betrayal.
Hatred.
Fear.
Perhaps this was what he wanted all along. Take everything she had to offer him, and then take some more. End it when he got what he wanted. It would make sense. Men, Maeve had learned, were only ever in it for themselves. Their own power, pleasure, wealth, success. Everything else was just fodder. To be discarded the moment they outran their use. The kisses, the promises, and the sweet words had meant nothing. They were tools used by a professional to whittle away at her exterior, to expose the soft, fleshy underbelly and to strike.
There was a decision to be made. He could return with his spoils, take some more from her and maybe finish the job, and she could let him. Or she could gather her broken pieces back together and stitch herself up into something stronger, tougher. She could prove to him that Maeve was not one to be trifled with, that though he had broken her heart, he could never crush her spirit. That it was him who should be afraid.
He had returned, her sire’s prized grimoire tucked underneath an arm and a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. She felt sick, a nausea that only overtook her when it was time to feed, when she saw that look. Flashes of that same grin pressing against the flesh of her neck, her stomach, her thighs. The warmth of it replaced by the coldness in his eyes. “No hard feelings, love. It’s just business.”
Business. She’d laugh if she wasn’t still choking on her own blood. He came nearer, his spoils set off to the side and safe from the mess they had made together, and he put his hands on her again. The sparks of electricity that had once been ignited by his touch were no longer. In their stead, it was gravel. Sandpaper against her skin, catching and pulling, leaving nothing but pain and disgust in their wake. When those thick fingers danced up her torso, jostling the blade in her chest and curled around her blood-stained cheek, she flinched as if she had been struck. His touch was no longer welcomed. It was unwanted, despised, no matter how gentle he remained.
“You have been so good to me, my sweet. So passionate, so giving. Who knows where I would be if it wasn’t for you. You, who was so desperate to be loved.” Rough thumb swiping over the mess of her face, pressing her bottom lip against her row of teeth until the skin split and seeped. The shock of it was nothing compared to press of his lips on hers, drinking in her gasps and pleas. Her blood staining his front, his face. He was drunk off of his own power. He was too far gone to notice the breaking of her bonds.
Weak from hunger and grief, it took more effort than usual to switch their positions, to strike him hard enough to daze him while she struggled to rip the dagger from her chest. She cried out with the force of it, the pain shooting down her spine like fire, lighting up nerve-endings that she long thought dead. She panted when it pulled free, the inky black liquid dripping onto the body beneath her, his fingers spread wide and palms flat against the thighs that straddled him. There was laughter in his eyes, a twist to his lips that showed off his sharp fangs. Weapons she had given him. A bubble of laughter spilled from his chest, deep and rumbling, as he gripped her thighs tighter. “Go ahead, dearest, if you think you have it in you. But we both know I’m leaving here tonight with that book.”
He could throw her off, Maeve knew this. She knew she was weakened, that he had caught her off guard and had bested her, even if she held the upper hand now. He was so sure of himself, so arrogant in the face of the creature who gave him new life. The hurt began to dwindle as the anger settled in, lighting her up from the inside out. It took minimal force for someone of her kind to plunge the same dagger deep into his chest, to grunt as she twisted, using her own weight to keep it embedded deep. Her hair hung in long, matted clumps around her face, brushing against the one beneath her, and as he began to choke he laughed again. His own blood flecking across her face, mingling in with the stains.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” she seethed, readjusting her grip on the hilt and twisting, relishing in the grunts and gasps of pain the movement elicited. She could feel the matching hole in her chest slowly begin to stitch itself together, the wound throbbing with the memory of the blade. She would do what he was too proud to do.
She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t gloat. Instead, she shut her mind off as she ripped the blade free and plunged it back down, repeating the motion until she was satisfied with the size of the hole in his chest, the blood splatter that covered her naked body and the rest of the room. With a sharp inhale, she embedded the blade into the center of his throat, stalling the loud choking noises as she pulled herself free and stood on wobbly legs. It was unusual for vampires to keep a weakness so close at hand, but as her foot connected with the wooden table and broke the leg off, she found herself thankful for the oversight. She could feel his eyes on her, and for a moment her resolve wavered. She loved him, even still. She could leave him like this, to escape or to starve, knowing he had been bested by her. She could leave and never look back, forget about him until their paths crossed again in the future. The thought of that brought the nausea back, twisting her stomach into knots at the mere idea of it. She would not be weak. Not again.
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t beg with the dagger in his throat, but she took a sick sort of pleasure at the widening of his eyes when he watched her approach with the makeshift wooden stake. His lips trembled as she grew nearer, and now it was she who was drunk on the power. Hesitation would be a mistake at this point, and in a single fluid movement, she plunged the stake deep into his heart, hard enough for it to splinter and crack in her hands.
There was no sound as his body disintegrated, returning to ash once more. She inhaled once, sharply, when it was all over, nearly collapsing in on herself with the force of her sobs. She allowed herself a moment to grieve, to mourn what she had lost once more, surrounded by the mess of their mingled blood and his ashes. She stood after she collected herself, reborn by the experience and hands permanently stained from what she had to do, and silently gathered up the grimoire, returning it to its previous location. Undisturbed. Untouched. As if nothing had happened.
No one would need to know, and Maeve would forget everything about him. The feel of his hands, the taste of his lips. The vibration of his chest against hers as he whispered in her ear, promising her the world. She would forget his face, and she would forget his name.
And she would never, ever, make the same mistake again.
