Fortier: Blood and Moon

Pride

I can hear almost every single breath they take, even their heartbeat. I can gauge it racing up from everyone except for that approaching thing. And yes, Vampires do have a functioning heart. We are not abominations, but I can't say for certain if that goes for whatever is approaching me at the moment.

“A lesson must be taught in the end, don't you think?” I say loud and clear. Trying to force a reaction from him, but there is not even the slight rise in their pulses.

“I have to keep appearances, after all,” I say before I take a pause, and move my other hand towards his throat. I felt his muscles tense and try to resist as I pushed and gripped at his jugular, pulling it out completely and toss it on the ground. “I can't have you all forget your places now.”

“I don't give a s**t about them,” he said, his footsteps ever so steady. “I give a s**t about you,” he added, and just like that, I recognized the tone. That arrogance and negligence of other lives . . . that disregard would only ever come from a Bertram.

I gaze into the shadow and I squint hard enough to make just a few of his details. I see him, that aura of confidence. A weird, thick mustache that seems to be jumping off of his lips. Blond short hair, and a black outfit. He's not just a Bertram . . . he is the Bertram.

“As I live and breathe, Lychas Bertram,” I said, amidst the cries of those gathered. Sure they were vicious vampires, but none were used to seeing someone's throat being ripped out in that manner. Call them what you want, but they did understand when they needed to run.

Once his entire body came into the light, his face wore a smirk and he stood there, simply eying me down. He was probably thinking how much of a nuisance I have become for them to deal with, but then again . . . I do not take sides anymore. To hell with their petty vendettas.

“In the flesh,” he uttered. His smirk intact.

“To what do I owe the honor?”

“I want to talk to you, Alfred. Somewhere I know I am safe from your wrath.”

“Oh? How humble of you,” I said before I rolled my eyes towards him. “To understand the difference in our powers now.”

“Thanks.”

His smirk wore off. I could see that it got to him. With him being the head of the family, it sure isn’t an easy pill to swallow, admitting that another surpasses you.

Lychas struggled to find the words at the beginning, I could see it in his eyes, he tried to speak, but he soon bit his lips. “Lost for words?” I tease him a bit.

“Not at all. You've grown to be so dependable, after all,” he swallowed and then took a moment to sigh. “Like I said, Alfred, I wish merely to speak to you in private. In my home. Would you come?”

Did he just say that? These damn Bertrams . . . to think that I would accept such a horrendous offer. Knowing them, it's probably a trap where they lure me into their “playground” in order to eliminate the most pressing concern before my father wages war officially on them. But needless to say, he couldn't be so stupid as to spew those words without thinking that I would think it was a trap, and so what if it was? I could probably take them all on at once.

“Do you honestly believe an i***t stands before you, Lychas?” I said. I was going to accept anyway, but I wanted to see his response.

“If you truly believed that I was luring you into a trap, why not kill me now and be done with it, then?” he asked, but his rhythm and pulse did not raise even a bit.

“Because you know me better than that,” I said, as I took steps towards him, I stopped only when I was looking him directly in the eye. A huge smile on my face. “If I were to snap your pretty, little neck right here and now, we would have an open revolt against us from all sides,” I tapped my thumb on the side of my head. “I know how to use this, Lychas. Unlike those morons who walked into Salem for the butchering.”

“That was my father, not me.” He said.

His breath rhythm interrupted. I must’ve struck a nerve. “Fine,” I said as I paused and turned my back to him. There was a stand selling drinks, the board sign read COW BLOOD clear, I walked towards it, and snatched a mug from there and filled it before I took a sip.

I raised the mug at him. “Care to join?”

“I don't partake in that filth. I like my blood a bit more . . . fresh.”

“No no, I insist.” I kept the mug aimed at him. “You probably won't know the difference,” the smile on my face does not fade nor is shaken by the utter disgust he shows. He turned pale, and I could catch him looking at the mug.

“You have to taste the s**t you had us die for,” I said and wiggled the mug a bit.

He turned his face a bit to the side, but eventually, he broke down. “If that's what I have to do to earn your trust, then fine,” he mumbled before he came closer and took the mug from my hand, I could see his eyes dilate, as the liquid splashed left and right on his tongue before he forced a swallow.

“Very good,” I said as I smiled involuntarily. This thing that just happened, would've given every Zeidan one hell of a story to tell or to brag about. The head of Bertram, drinking cow blood. It was almost too good to be true. Whatever he wanted to tell me was of the utmost importance, I can tell. “Say the truth, is it really that different from human blood?”

“Human blood is simply much more pure than this. Have you had enough now?”

“Alright, calm down. I’ll go with you to your house and say hello, I guess,” I said before the smile wore off on my face. A deal is a deal after all, and my word has to be respected in the end. “Come, lead the way,” I pointed my arm towards the far end of the tunnel.