by Aya DeAniege
Of course, she would live through the night.
Sasha glared at me, then stood. “Let me get you a bottle.”
I watched her leave the room, then reached and grabbed my phone. Checking my messages, I found nothing. No contacts in the phone either. I swore I had been told that it would come loaded with contacts, yet my list was completely empty. Even the writing files from before were gone.
Searching through the files, I frowned at it, wondering what had happened to it all. Quin must have had some kind of cloud backup that automatically removed files from the phone. If there were no files, then no one could take information from the phone. Lu would find nothing to aid him there.
I technically couldn’t text Quin for help because his number wasn’t on my phone. I certainly wasn’t skilled or controlled enough to send for help in thought form without tipping Sasha, Lucrecia, and perhaps Amma off to what was going on.
That was a sure way of getting myself killed.
Into email, I found one from the interviewers asking what was going on in reference to the police report we had filed the night before. I responded to that email and let them know that I was alive, that more information would be coming to them once I knew what I could say. I provided the first password to show that it was me responding, then I logged out.
The passwords had been given to the interviewers to quickly identify if they were who they said they were. Each of us had been given six passwords to be used in that order. Using them out of order would cause the police to be notified, the tablet’s GPS to be turned on, and the interviewer to be retrieved.
Wait, I also have a subdermal tracker.
I ran my fingers over the spot self-consciously and wondered how long it would be before the little tracker worked its way out of my flesh. It was deeper than the tattoo had been, deep enough that it wasn’t noticeable, no lump to the skin, not yet anyhow. Easy to forget about and harder to find unless you knew where to look.
Sasha returned with a literal bottle of blood. She handed it to me, then put her hands on her hips and put on her best scowl.
“Drink it all,” she demanded.
“This is like a two-liter bottle,” I protested.
“It is,” she said. “Your body will begin to absorb the blood right away because he drank from you. You’ll get it all down, then a juice box besides. He’s being lenient with you because of all else that is going on. Baby vamps usually eat a couple of humans before settling into the three days of feeding off their Maker. Though I am interested in how this will turn out, you can’t subsist only on boxes.”
“How can I digest this without the juice box?”
“Trust me on this, please,” she said.
“I’m just worried about puking it back up. I’ve had enough of blood being on me for one night.”
“I’d rather not clean it out of the carpet, either,” she muttered. “If you do feel queasy, stop and sip the juice box. I’ll go get the juice box now.”
I opened the bottle and drank straight from it. The moment it hit the back of my throat, I gulped greedily. Like I hadn’t had water on a long, hot day, I chugged it back until my lungs seemed to burn.
Then I lowered the bottle and licked my lips.
“Quin told me a very different story of that war.”
“Lu, it seems, believes Bau is the Great Maker. Bau was, even in madness, bound to keep her identity a secret. In a way, she is Quin’s Great Maker, much like the parents of your parents are your grand and great grandparents.”
“How many Progeny has Bau made?” I asked.
“Eight,” Sasha said.
“And how many are still alive?”
“Two.”
“Is that like how Lu and Death are viewed separately? He’s the only one left?”
“No,” Sasha said with a shake of her head. “The other is a daughter.”
She was answering my questions but offering up no more information than I was asking. I could work with that, as she didn’t seem annoyed that I was asking.
Sad, that was almost how she sounded.
“Did Bau’s children wage war against her?” I asked.
“The daughters were made when she was sane. They were carefully selected. When she went mad, they sent the youngest, her favourite, to try to bring her back even a little. She captured the daughter and did such things to her that the child had a break with reality. She no longer recalls the before. It is a blessing.”
“But she remembers the during,” I said.
“Parts.”
Lucrecia. It had to be. The bits I had been told about her Maker didn’t make any damned sense. She killed him, but Lu killed him, others were involved, but they were all dead?
Oh, and Lu’s Maker killed her family, who were happy and normal and kind and lived as the guides of mankind during Roman times?
“Does being the child of a witch help? Change anything at all?”
“The venom tracks back, so yes, it does. The Elders call Bau and her vampire descendants Witchblood, a family name. No one in it forms a family, growing to despise their own kind, but inevitably they turn another.”
“Bau loved a werewolf before she was turned.”
“Yes.”
“It was forbidden, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Was that why she took to the field with the tool? As a star-crossed lover thing?”
“The witches withheld visions from her. They told her that if she did it, she could be with her lover. The lover was killed the second day. They didn’t even tell her that. They waited until after, after she was turned and they wanted to rein her in, to use her as a weapon.”
That was a great deal of hatred.
“It’s a good thing witches are mortal,” I muttered.
“The Great Maker ate many of them for their stupidity,” Sasha snapped angrily. “But one life, that is all we are given, and that was how they chose to—no. There were other ways, other things they could do. She didn’t know though.”
“Bau didn’t know the other ways?”
“The Great Maker didn’t know. Now she does.”
She can kill.
And after centuries, she was likely no longer the—what sounded like—innocent, naive young woman who had run away from her children rather than slaughter them.
“The others were killed by Lu. The Great Maker arrived too late. Then, as she dealt with the bodies, she knew she had to protect the remaining child. She stepped back entirely, and let everyone else fuck up their lives.”
If I was going to die, I was going to do so with a full belly.
It was an odd thought, considering my meal, but nonetheless, I raised the bottle and chugged down as much as I could get.
The bottle was still about half full as I set it on the table.
“I think you should change your name,” I said.
“Why do you say that?” She asked.
“Sasha. I’m not one of the others. I’m not indoctrinated with this belief that everyone will introduce themselves. I’m not trained to ignore the blatantly obvious.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Lucrecia is Bau’s child,” I said.
“And? She doesn’t know about Wraith.”
“Well, she does now. But the power Lucrecia boasts about having? Giving commands to other vampires? Glamouring mortals? That sounds an awful lot like a mutation of the Great Maker’s power. From what Quin has told me, transference isn’t just giving someone else a power. It’s an adaptation of that power for a new body.”
“And?”
I sighed, I didn’t know if she hadn’t made the connection, or if she was simply pretending. Or perhaps she was giving me the opportunity to end the conversation and walk away.
“Even Margaret’s power, now that I think about it,” I muttered. “She probably tells everyone with thought that she’s got the right tone of voice.”
“That would explain how she can hit all notes even when her vocal cords have been destro
yed,” Sasha grumbled.
Grumbled like she had purposefully done such a thing to shut Margaret up and it hadn’t worked. At her grumble, I wanted to snarl.
Stupid, fucking, Margaret.
I think the violent streak in me was deepening. I had been raised to swear, not hit. In the immortal life, I had to change that, I knew. No vampire was going to take me seriously unless I smacked a stupid bitch instead of calling her a stupid bitch.
“Of course, that’s probably not the Great Maker’s only power. Let’s face it, her power is in her venom and her blood. She could probably change her physical appearance, which could explain why Lu has had trouble finding her for all these centuries. She did step onto the battlefield, after all.”
“That she did,” Sasha muttered.
“And she probably spent a lot of time with her children before all was said and done. Feeding on them, given her original power, would likely hasten transference. And her need to feed on vampires likely meant she fed often.”
“Which means that she could be in possession of hundreds of powers,” Sasha said. “Because transference can go back and forth. Bouncing from vampire to vampire and back around again to the original in a new form. Like a virus.”
“But for Lucrecia to have that power, she’d have to be close to the Great Maker for centuries, if not millennia.”
“They were close before.”
“Right, because Lu has laid claim on killing Lucrecia’s family. An act she doesn’t even remember, yet Lu believes is the reason why she hates him.”
“Exactly,” Sasha said.
“Except that wouldn’t explain Margaret,” I said.
“She spent a great deal of time around Lucrecia.”
“No, she didn’t,” I said. “You forget that I’ve already talked to Quin. He said Margaret and Lucrecia fought so badly that you had to move two weeks or so away just to make sure they didn’t accidentally cross paths. They are barely near each other. Vampires coming out and Margaret being Younger Council, Lucrecia being ambassador, that’s probably the most time they’ve spent together in a thousand years.”
“Perhaps that’s just her inborn power, then.”
“I think, if anything, her insane mad scientist skills are her power. Margaret probably wasn’t turned with one, she was a mistake. You didn’t even think you could turn her.”
“It was a mistake, that is for certain.”
“You should have killed her when you had the chance.”
Sasha just shrugged in response. “I thought perhaps a child would change things. It did not.”
A thought occurred to me, a different way to approach the subject, perhaps.
“Androgen knows who the Great Maker is, don’t they?”
“Yes, Androgen also knows who Death and Wraith are. It came up during the duties for Archivist. Androgen’s Maker also knew. It was Lu, after all, who cut out the Maker’s tongue.”
Which was why, the night before, Androgen had shot Sasha such a scathing look over that comment. Why Quin’s mute lover was mute, why he had appeared agitated at Lu’s presence. Possibly even why he had run.
The archivist didn’t know everything, obviously, but they did learn a great deal more than the average vampire.
“You two aren’t lovers, are you?”
“No.”
“Just more like good friends doing one another a favour.”
“Yes.”
“Did you, maybe, have a thing for Quin?”
“A what?” she asked.
I struggled to reword that in my mind. Given her annoyance with English, I didn’t think that Sasha had kept up on all the slang.
“Upon meeting him, had you hoped that love or even sex might evolve into your relationship with Quin?”
Sasha blushed and looked away. For a moment, she looked like an innocent young woman. Then she looked back at me as the jealousy flared to life in her eyes.
“He came to love me as a sister. I was not about to be yet another in a lengthy line of rapists, so I never touched or pressed the subject. Not until he jumped me in Council Chambers. Even that was just a projection, like a fever dream for him.”
“You gave him something no one else could,” I said. “Of all the people, all the places and all the things he’s told me about, the only person I believe he loves is you. Even what we have is likely fleeting. In fifty years, he’ll be bored of me, but you’ll still be here.”
“I suppose,” she said. “I also suppose that you want me to tell you how to keep his attention.”
“You’ll have to excuse my paranoia, but I don’t think that’s a great idea. Might as well label you Miss. Jealousy now and be done with it.”
Sasha stiffened. Her eyes grew a little wider, and for just a moment she looked horrified.
“Very well,” she said finally.
“Sasha…”
“Mm?” she made the questioning sound in response but sounded caught and distant.
“It took an entire night for me to work up the courage to ask Quin. And if I had asked earlier, we could have avoided a great deal of trouble.”
“Facing mortality can keep people from doing a great many things,” she said quietly.
“It can,” I said, then I sighed. “Sasha…”
“Mm?” she said again.
“I know you’re the one that the others call the Great Maker.”
“Oh? Why do you say that?”
“Lots of things. Recognizing Wraith when you found him for certain. How you told the story for another. The sound in your voice at your sister dying at the hands of your children? That alone was enough to break my heart in tone, not even paying attention to what you said.”
She made that sound again, still seeming distant.
“Are you here, or are you seeing something else?” I asked.
“I am very, very tired,” she said. “So, get to the point. The blackmail, or the threat, or asking why we’re all here. Just get to it so that I can go rest.”
Why wasn’t she threatening to eat me?
Something was off. I suppose for the night, at least, I was protected. Possibly longer, considering how much she cared for Quin.
“I actually was just wondering if we could do this over again,” I said, tapping the tablet. “I mean, come on, not even the Oracle linked you to Lucrecia. How many vampires look away and forget about her so-called Progeny? Or know who Margaret’s Maker is?”
“Margaret tells people that her Maker is dead,” Sasha said in a bored tone.
“Did you—you didn’t like, eat Sasha and take on her form or something, did you?”
“No,” she said with a small headshake. “Though I can change my physical appearance with significant effort, I have looked the same for the past fifteen hundred years.”
“Can you get taller?” I asked.
“No,” she said, and almost seemed to pout for a second. “At least, we don’t think so. Why do you think they call me the fae of a girl?”
“Fair enough, I’d suggest a name and face change. Frankly, I’d suggest telling Quin about this. Her knows you have secrets, but like everyone else he ignores it unless you come right out and say it.”
“How would I even go about that?” she asked. “Oh, by the way, I’m the Great Maker, and I need to feed on other vampires like you need Maker’s Blood? Here, lend me your wrist?”
“I could see how, after fifteen hundred years, he’d be pissed about it. But do you really think continuing with this is the best route? You two haven’t talked in centuries because of the box.”
“It was the box or Death!” she protested.
“Well, tell him that. Not me, I’m not a go-between for the two of you.”
“Of course not,” she muttered.
“Okay, so, practice with me,” I said. “Tell me what you’d like to tell Quin, and maybe I can help you out.”
“With that thing recording?” she asked. “So you can sell it to the vampires?”
“Humans would pay an a
rm and a leg for an interview with God. The Great Maker, the original vampire, has got to be worth at least a pinky finger.”
“I doubt it.”
“I could guilt trip you, if that’d make it easier,” I said with a shrug.
“What do you mean?”
“You can kill vampires, and obviously have no qualms about doing as much. Yet you let Lu live.”
“He served a purpose. One that even I could not deny. When he turned Quin, he went too far. I didn’t know the boy existed until I spotted him on the road. Just by chance even. By then, he was too well watched for me to slip in and do the deed.”
“But you’ve had an opportunity over the centuries.”
“Yes, I have.”
“And you didn’t take them.”
“No, I thought perhaps it would be best to allow Wraith to do the deed. It may help him find the closure that he needs. He’s come so far, yet he still pines after Lu. Obsessive like a vampire with a mortal child.”
“Lu was the family he remembered for so long. There has hardly ever been a time without Lu. Aren’t you afraid that the final act of Quin killing his abuser would cause the two personalities to be cleaved as well? For Wraith, no longer leashed by Death, to take over and run rampant across the world?”
“No,” Sasha said with a shake of her head. “But now I am.”
“So how do I kill Lu?” I asked. “Without waiting four hundred years to maybe learn Quin’s power and make his head explode.”
“Wait, Quin’s power is what?” she asked.
“Quin kills people. With his mind. We went over that when he was here.”
“Right, it’s been a long night,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Are you affected when a new vampire is made?” I asked.
“I am, though it does not normally weaken me in such a way. Power and struggle are brewing underneath the surface of all. We may need to move the Archives. It’s not going to be safe here for much longer, not if this turmoil continues.”
“Okay, well, let’s pour a glass of blood and talk about that.”
“If I drink from that bottle, I will be sick,” Sasha said with a grimace.
“Have one of my juice boxes,” I said with a shrug. “It’s vampire blood, and you need the real stuff right now.”
