Chapter Ten #2
I waited to feel some rush of power, but none came.
The urge to slump in my seat weighed on me.
I’d hoped I’d feel something around all these vampires.
Perhaps it was too soon? It had barely been a day since I’d…
turned. The magic might need to recalibrate inside me, especially considering I’d never felt it as a human.
But if this didn’t work, what would? Would I need to ask Thea to bring me back every night of the week?
Or was I going about this the wrong way entirely?
I refused to consider that the magic might somehow be gone.
I could feel it bubbling inside me when I held the grimoire.
I just needed to learn how to access it.
“Blood save me, I’m parched,” one of the vampires on the other side murmured, breaking my train of thought.
“Losing will do that to you,” Thea said from behind her increasingly large mountain of shells.
My own pile was, well, medium height. I almost enjoyed the strategic part of the game, since luck certainly wasn’t my forte, but it was hard to concentrate on all the rules when I was playing another game of life and death without anything so defined.
Still, I wasn’t the worst at the table. I suspected they were being a bit nice to me since I was new.
Or since I was Raphael’s fledgling.
“Yeah, says the oracle,” another griped.
“My magic is no good here,” Thea retorted.
“Then what’s your excuse for always cleaning us out?” another groused. It seemed like a well-rehearsed line.
“Skill. Or perhaps Lixa just favors one-eyed beauties.”
The audience tittered at her response. On some cue, a server came in, carrying a tray of goblets over. He put wine in front of Thea, and blood in front of the rest of us.
I fingered the stem. It was warm. Fresh. My gut twisted. Had they just taken this from a donor?
“Mmm,” Cynthia said next to me, taking a sip.
I swallowed on air. I was thirsty, even more aware now that blood had been served. I should drink it. I didn’t want to risk hurting anyone, least of all Thea.
But gods forsake me, it’s awful.
I took a reluctant sip and didn’t quite manage to squash the face I made.
“I guess you must get used to the taste with time,” I said, as I caught Cynthia looking at me with concern.
Her brows pinched. “You don’t care for the blood?” She twisted as if to call the server, and I quickly put a palm on her arm.
“No, no. It’s my own issue. The blood was fine.” It tastes like all blood tastes. Sour, rotten. Except Raphael’s. I took another sip to prove it. My throat squeezed shut in protest as I forced it down.
Another disbelieving look, but we all returned to the game. I shook the bone dice in a loose grip and flung them, while the others loosed theirs in controlled spins.
It was easy enough to talk during the game, and conversation moved around.
Politics, gossip, trade. Not with the Witch Kingdom.
Instead, it seemed several of the vampires were involved in trade networks involving the Southern Vampire Kingdom, who thus connected them with other posts.
I sipped the awful blood as I listened. If anything, it seemed to make the thirst worse.
Raphael had said I’d need to drink at least once a day, but this was atrocious.
I drank it like a child drank bitter medicine, while all around me the others savored their sanguine beverages.
I distracted myself from the thirst by continuing to focus on the hints interspersed in the conversation.
I wasn’t sure if any of it was useful, but I listened all the same, trying to commit it all to memory.
Maybe if I learned enough, I could be more strategic in how I used my powers, whenever they deigned to manifest.
The vampires around me continued to laugh and joke, teasing each other and—when brave—Thea and me as well. They’d relaxed about our status, and for the most part treated us as friends in their circle. They had anxieties and tells and pride just like everyone else I’d ever known.
The realization was a bit uncomfortable.
Maybe I wouldn’t need to kill, to punish. As the necromancer, I had to do something. But the magic in me seemed to crave violence, and I… I wasn’t sure I wanted to hurt anyone.
“Oh, your turn,” Cynthia urged me when I’d stopped paying attention to the game. “You’re really close!”
I scanned the table and saw she was right. I wasn’t quite as skilled as Thea, but with the right roll I’d get there. I shook the dice with two hands, the way I’d seen some others do for luck, and gave a roll.
They spun and spun… and there! The eight-sided one fell to one of the two sides I needed. That meant the six-sided one… I must’ve hit it just right because it spun around and around, slowing as different numbers flitted across the top. A four or greater would win the round.
No! A three.
Then it twisted again, just when I’d thought it finally stopped, landing on a five.
“Very good,” Thea cheered, as someone across the table reluctantly pushed the pile my way.
“Gosh, you’re good,” Cynthia said. “Beginner’s luck? Or have you played before?”
I shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention. “It must be luck. I’ve never really played games like this.”