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“A cure for immortality. That is… a fine thing.”
“You mentioned wanting to preserve culture; or else wanting to end things entirely. Either way, this gives you more choices, and as a weapon, it’s unparalleled. You’re right, the elite are too fast and strong; and there’s too many of them. But what if they weren’t? At the very least, it can slow them down and make them vulnerable.”
“If we can produce more of it, vaporize it like with those vaping pods you have here, filter it into their coffins while they sleep—or something. There are dozens of ways to sneak it into their blood supply. At any rate, it’s better you know it’s out there.”
“A dangerous, powerful weapon,” Augustine said slowly. “If it’s real.”
“You don’t believe me?” I asked.
“It’s a lot to accept on faith.”
“Not faith,” I said. “Actual, fucking magic—by which I mean, science. You can taste memories, can’t you? Here. The proof is in my blood. It won’t work without the rest of the formula, but… my memories are there. You’ll be able to tell I’m not lying, right?”
I held my wrist out to him, and he studied it thoughtfully, then his eyes lifted to my neck.
“Fine,” I rolled my eyes, tilting my head to the side. He only hesitated for a moment, then he caught me in a tight grip and sank his fangs into my throat. But he was gentle, and drank lightly. I leaned back against the pillows of the couch as he hovered over me, cradling my head, his fingers tangled in my dark hair. I told myself this was just a business transaction. That I was not aroused. But the elixir rushed through my veins like fire, and I bit my lip to contain a moan.
I gave him one scene, one memory; of Damien’s scar, and Nigel’s missing eye. The chest and April, working on experiments in her lab. I pulled away when I felt the memories slipping, into other intimate moments of privacy I didn’t want to share.
Augustine stepped away, wiping his mouth and keeping a respectful distance, even though I could see the fierce, dark hunger in his eyes. He wanted more. And so did I.
I felt the blood drip down my neck, curling around my collarbone, staining the top of my blouse a deep crimson, but I couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away, and the warm, sticky texture against my skin felt somehow erotic.
I wasn’t sure if it was a mesmer, compulsion, or something else. Maybe just the thirst for the elixir in his veins, a dark addiction I couldn’t control, that went against everything I believed in or thought I wanted. Was it just yesterday I’d thrown myself at Trevor in my grief? I barely recognized that girl, myself. Fallen to pieces. But I wasn’t going to be seduced by this foreign vampire. I was the only one who could get us out of this, whatever it was. I needed to stay sharp.
I watched him as he wiped the last of my blood from his lips with his thumb, and then pressed it firmly against the pad of paper, leaving a bloody thumbprint in the corner of my portrait.
“You’re right, Emily,” said the vampire, his voice low and husky, his eyelids hooded. “This knowledge has value. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“So what’s it worth?” I asked, reaching for a box of tissues and dabbing the stain of our transgression from my skin. “How about, once we get home, I’ll brew a batch for you, or share the formula. That’s a fair price for a ride home; you’ll get the better end of the deal even if you don’t help us fight.”
“Careful, girl, now you promise too much.”
“We can iron out the details later.”
“And you’d trust me to keep the bargain?”
I hated negotiating without the others, but I couldn’t really see how this could hurt us. After all, the antidote was only a threat to the elite.
“It’s not like I have much choice right,” I said.
“Agreed,” he said. But he’d turned back to the drawing now, stenciling in the detailed marks around my wrists. “Still, we’ll have to figure out what to do with the compounds.”
“What do you mean, we?” I asked.
“You know what we see, when we look at your compounds? Reservations. Concentration camps. But worse… You don’t have modern entertainment, because that would make humans too aware, too self-conscious. They would ask questions, get inquisitive. They’d find out that their entire existence, their peace, is built on a lie. That they’re infants in a cradle, being rocked to sleep.”
“What are you asking for, a chance to dictate our policy?”
“Not necessarily, but it would be foolish not to consider what will happen if your coup succeeds.”
“It’s not a coup,” I said, “not really. Damien is the rightful heir.”
“That’s a weak claim, when there has never been a transition of power. Any compound ruled by elites, will never let humans reach their full potential; but let humans rule and they’ll fight and kill each other over resources. Peace requires institutions, jobs, a sense of purpose, legal and physical securities and safeguards, rules of society and civilization. I’m not saying our way is better. Maybe it isn’t. But neither is yours. Maybe together, you and I, we can build something new, something better than both of us.”
“I like that idea,” I said, choosing my words carefully. This hypothetical acknowledgment seemed harmless enough.
“Good,” Augustine said. “There’s just one more thing to discuss; a price, and I’ll warn you, it’s a steep one.”
