Page 39 of Nosfer-Meet You

I shake my head. “For reasons other than raiding. I wish to see the world. Go to new places. Without … killing, I mean.”

In one fell movement, Dante lets out a roar and flips the table onto its side, scattering the plates, silverware, and organ meat everywhere. Selene lets out a startled gasp but remains in her corner. I, on the other hand, run from the room.

Dante’s roars follow me out into the hallway as I race down the stair. “Run away if you want, little dove, but I will always find you! I will always find you!”

His voice haunts my every step as I race out the front door of the estate and down the cobblestone path toward the forest.

The forest surrounding the estate is my special safe space. It’s part of our estate, and so I am allowed to visit, but only once per day. A place where I can escape the confines of Dante’s prison, if only for a little while. But nothing lasts forever. Especially not the good things. When I reach the comforting trunk of the mossy oak I’ve come to love, I catch a whiff of something burning in the air.

Odd.

The nearest settlement is too far away for me to smell them, and besides, the wind isn’t even strong today. I climb the oak and sit in its cradle of branches, looking out over the tops of the trees, searching for the source of the unusual scent.

And then, in the distance, I spot the glowing embers of fire. They dance like fireflies, moving swiftly toward the mansion.

My mouth goes bone dry. “Putain. We have visitors.”

My bones crack and snap with ease thanks to years of practice, and once my grotesque transformation is complete, I beat my leathery wings and take to the sky. I soar above the treetops and look down to catch a glimpse of humans carrying torches. Dozens upon dozens of them. So many that they look like ants descending on a blot of jam.

They’re coming for Dante. For us. Their angry voices rise in chorus as they march on the estate. For the first time in my long, miserable existence, I am presented with a choice: Fly away now and allow the mob to attack Dante. Disappear. He is strong, but not strong enough to hold back an entire horde, even with the staff. They’ll be ash before morning.

Or, go back to my sire and warn him of the danger. Be his good little dove, and we can escape together. He’ll want to mete out his vengeance on the humans later, of course, and he’ll force me to butcher most of these people in their sleep.

It isn’t much of a choice at all.

I lift my head toward the stars and allow my wings to carry me away, far away, from here. I’ll take whatever freedom I can get, even if it’s short lived. I’ll find somewhere new to call my home and do a fresh Blood Rite so I won’t have to worry about turning to ash at sunrise. Should be simple enough. I’ve seen Dante perform the ritual dozens of times over the years whenever we’d go somewhere too far for a quick evening trip.

Even if I don’t know where I’m going or what I’ll do once I’m there. It doesn’t matter. When the cage door opens, the bird doesn’t remain behind bars because she fears future confinement. I may not be a bird, but I’m no fool either. And while I never asked for these wings, I will take any advantage I can get.

I only hope I’m strong enough to face whatever comes next.

Chapter 22

Scotty

SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

“Wait. You’re telling me you left without knowing if Dante survived the mob?” My brows knit together as I put another record on and let it play. Another French singer I’ve never heard of before. One of these days, I’m going to bring her some other albums to add to her collection. A little Black Sabbath, The Clash, some Banshees. Maybe the Eagles or Pierce the Veil just to round things out and give her more variety.

Juliette shrugs as she picks up her paint brush again and dips it in the black paint. “When several weeks passed and Dante hadn’t come for me, I grew curious. I returned to the estate to find much of the mansion burned to the ground. And I found the ashes of the staff, including Selene’s, by the front door.”

“How did you know it was hers?” I ask, and plop back down on the cloth. “I mean, all ashes look the same to me.”

“Their smell,” she says. “And I found Dante’s in his parlor. It seemed he sent the staff to fight off the horde for him. And then when they fell, he did, too.”

What a guy, letting his staff die for him. Already knew he was a piece of shit, so this doesn’t surprise me. But what a way to go.

“How come the humans didn’t just attack you all during the day?” I ask.

“Nosferatu are impossible to kill while we are sleeping,” she says, and I open my mouth to ask her the obvious follow-up question. But she continues before I have the chance. “Because our coffins are not only-well hidden in our homes, they are also impossible to break into. This is how the Nosferatu grew in such numbers. Why we were the reigning apex predator for so many centuries.”

“So … why did you paint a portrait of him?” I ask, pointing at the Nosferatu’s gaunt face in the corner, propped up on a crate. It’s the only painting of Juliette’s that I actually hate. “Why bother honoring him at all?”

Juliette frowns. “I do not know. Perhaps there is something wrong with me.”

I stand up and make my way over to her, then kneel to place my hands in hers. “Juli. There’s nothing wrong with you. Because if there is, that means there’s something wrong with all of us. Grief is weird, love. And when you’re grieving someone who basically groomed you for decades, shit gets messy. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Juliette runs her fingers through my hair and smiles gently. “Thank you,” she murmurs. Then she leans down and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “Thank you,” she repeats in my hair.