Chapter 9 – Cassini #2
“Cassini, I understand the weight of the commitment, which is why we give up to a year for a new inductee to integrate before making a decision…but the clock is ticking. Your time is almost up, and soon you must choose. The paths are simple: choose brotherhood and loyalty, or choose ostracization and be hunted like a dog in the street.”
Julian makes sure to remind me of the stakes by adjusting the edges of his jacket so he flashes me his weapon of choice.
A miniature crossbow, about the size of a large handgun, concealed in a custom leather holster.
It’s already loaded with a silver-tipped wooden bolt, and I’m sure there are plenty more like it.
Julian is the only vampire permitted to carry a crossbow. It’s the only weapon of its kind in the nest—Lazaro’s special privilege reserved for his most trusted enforcer. He’s also paranoid that one of his own will end him.
I ignore it and decide to appeal to Lazaro’s rational side. Try to buy myself some extra time to deal with the Beau Fontaine-shaped problem.
I push back gently, using my most reasonable voice. “When I first arrived, you told me that taking the vow is not mandatory, only encouraged.”
“Things change. We evolve. We must. That is our nature.”
“Is there anything I can say to convince you?”
“There is not,” he says with unshakable finality.
He leans in and softens his voice. “I am not a monster, Cassini. I will give you seven full days and nights. You may get your affairs in order and flee, or stay and prepare for the binding ritual.” His eyes never leave me as he leans back.
“I don’t believe what I’m asking for is unreasonable.
If you intend to stay here, all I ask is that you take a blood vow and swear yourself to me and the Sixth Clan.
I see great potential in you, Cassini. All I ask is that you’re mine. ”
He says it like it’s a modest request, as if taking the Sangretà is no big deal.
As if pledging your blood and your soul to someone is as simple as signing a lease or a twelve-month gym membership.
Except in this world, that means allowing him to have a perverse kind of control over my will, and the punishment for breaking the contract is severe.
“What about my job?” I ask, weighing my words carefully.
“Perhaps it’s better for you to have a break from the mundane. See a glimpse of the life I can offer.”
My brows furrow. “I don’t understand.”
“I have decided that you will not work in the parlor for the next week…just to avoid confusing matters. In the coming days, Julian will have a job for you. Call it a test. A trial of sorts.” He pauses for a moment, and his eyes narrow as he scrutinizes me.
“Do not squander this opportunity, Cassini. I will not offer another.”
I nod, but my teeth are gritted. “I understand. Thank you for your graciousness. In that case, I will await Julian’s instructions. Will that be all?”
I need to get out of here. The thick stone walls feel like they’re creeping inward, ready to crush the remainder of my patience from my body. I stand up and tower over Lazaro, who visibly reacts, his handsome face knotted into a frown and his voice dripping in sarcastic concern.
“Oh, I’m so sorry for keeping you. Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
“Not particularly,” I lie. “I’m just a little hungry. The bloodwine was delicious, but I need something a little more substantial.”
“I hear you do not drink from live donors. Not at all. Is that true?” he asks, his voice mocking. “How very strange.” He turns to Julian. “It’s odd, don’t you think?”
Julian bobs his head in agreement. “Yes, Primus. Indeed, it is most unusual.”
Lazaro continues, a darkness resembling spilled ink creeping into the whites of his eyes until they are completely gone.
“For me, it is the most natural thing to drink from the source. To feel the life drain out of them and pour into you. To taste the complexity of their unique flavor. To force yourself to stop, despite your instincts. To lick the wounds and heal them with your venom.”
His tongue darts across his lips as if tasting a memory. “It is a power unlike any other. You become god, holding the balance of their mortality in each of your hands. Tell me, Cassini, why do you deny yourself such exquisite pleasures?”
A memory gnaws at me, one of Catholic guilt deep in my marrow. A fear of what would happen if I let myself taste the warmth of a living person once more. I cannot lie, so I offer him a half-truth.
“I have simply not found a human that appeals to me in many years. No chattel worthy of my time. I prefer to wait until I find the right donor before committing to something as intimate as a live feed.”
The blackness that flooded his eyes fades as quickly as it arrived, and he examines me. “Are you sure about that? I hear the blonde you rescued from Cyrus’ clumsy paws is quite the specimen. A lovely little thing with a very unusual scent.”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid, but I fight it. He cannot see the effect this has on me. Cannot suspect a thing.
“She’s quite lovely, but nothing special.” I shrug, but for some reason, the words feel like acid in my mouth.
“Shame,” he says, standing up and offering me his hand. “Because I’m always looking for something rare and unique to sample.”
My jaw twitches as I clasp and shake it. There’s a minor shift in his expression, like he’s pleased to have baited me and won, languishing in the self-satisfied joy of having me reveal too much.
He grips my hand and squeezes it, searching my eyes for a reaction as he speaks. “Perhaps you should bring her to Nocturne,” he says, flashing a toothy smirk.
A flash of heat creeps up my neck. The thought of Lily in this place, her light and innocence corrupted by a den of depravity, makes my blood boil. It cannot happen. But I know what finding Megan and releasing myself from this binding will cost. I’ll have to hurt people. Maybe even Lily.
“Ah, but I’d need an invite,” I reply, clenching his fingers tighter.
Lazaro’s smile widens, like a shark smelling blood in the water. “Then perhaps we will have to reward you with one.”