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“Good. I hate puking.”
Athelinda nodded toward the other children. “Are those your friends?”
“Henry is my brother.” Gretchen pulled a face on the word “brother.” “Emily is my friend.”
“That’s nice. Do you know who I am?”
Gretchen nodded. “You’re Miss Athelinda. You’re in charge here, and Mom says you are hundreds of years old. Older than my grandma.”
“That’s true.”
“You don’t look old.”
“No.”
Gretchen considered then asked, “D’you want to play?”
Before she could reply, one of the women called out:
“Gretchen, we need to go home now.”
Gretchen’s face crumpled. “Aw, Mom.”
“Now!”
The girl still hesitated.
“You should go,” Athelinda said.
“I don’t want to.”
Athelinda leaned forward. “Didn’t your mother tell you? I like to eat little children.”
Gretchen’s eyes widened. Then she turned and ran back toward the woman, who pulled her close, shooting Athelinda an uneasy look. It was a look Athelinda was familiar with. A mixture of apprehension, distaste and fear. Most of the Colony regarded her in the same way. Athelinda didn’t blame them. They should be scared of her. She was a fucking monster.
Hundreds of years in this form had made her so. Her mind and body forced to endure more than it was ever intended to. Things that would have driven many mad. Sometimes she wondered if she was insane. Her head jammed so full of living that it felt like it might just explode. Perhaps then she would finally find some peace.
But not tonight. Tonight, she still had work to do.
The final building on her left was the settlement’s recreation hall. A place for gathering, dancing to music, playing cards, telling stories. Tonight, she had requested a meeting to discuss the situation with the dead human boy. Keeping everyone informed was paramount to keeping the Colony running smoothly. Yet still, it was with a heavy heart that Athelinda pushed the door open.
Around fifty people were seated in rows facing a small stage upon which stood Athelinda’s ceremonial seat. She hesitated to call it a throne because they did not operate a system of privilege or unelected monarchy in the colonies. Leadership was granted by age, wisdom and a vote by colony members. But the chair was old, significant, and only Athelinda was permitted to sit upon it. So perhaps that was just semantics.
She climbed the steps and took her position, gazing out at the rows of inquiring faces. Most of whom she had known for several centuries.
She nodded in greeting. “Welcome, kindred.”
The crowd murmured the greeting back.
“Thank you for coming,” she continued. “I’ve called this meeting—”
“Did you speak with them?” a voice interrupted from the back.
Cain. As usual. A dour, contentious man who was prone to outbursts of temper. His wife was a downtrodden, nervous woman, his children cowed before they had even reached maturity. Athelinda disliked him. She knew the feeling was mutual. Cain resented being ruled by someone he still saw as a child. Ridiculous. She had a good two hundred years on him, if not more. But Cain was limited in both intellect and imagination. Occasionally, she wished she could be rid of him once and for all. But it was strictly forbidden for a vampyr to kill another vampyr. Unlike humans, they respected that rule.
Athelinda nodded. “Yes. And I warned them of the consequences should they threaten the Colony.”
“And you expect them to listen?”
