Page 53 of Of Monsters Of Kings

My eyes widened. “Bite, you say? Pretending capture. What exactly is the nature of King Take?”

“He takes life, lady. That is his kingdom. He drains life away.”

He killed people by sucking the life out of them? I’d never heard of such a thing. I swayed, and Toil squelched closer so I could lean against him.

“You overwhelm the lady,” Toil shouted at the other prince.

“Be away with your savage notions,” Will Be added, his back tense. He didn’t look over his shoulder to me, and I imagined this was by design and by the order of his king.

“How are the horrors of my king different from yours?” Gangrel snapped. “Yours sees all possibilities, and none can hide from him. King Bring delivers delight or despair to a person with a rolling boil of his cauldron or a cold grind of his mortar. My king is simple. My king does not hide behind what may be nor the various shades of fate’s hammer. He takes life, no less and no more.”

When phrased like that, I could see the prince’s point. King See was made the way he was, and I didn’t blame him for it. I didn’t blame King Bring for what he could do either. Why should I blame King Take, though his calling was to kill? I should seek to better understand before passing judgment. “Why does your liege take life?”

Prince Gangrel didn’t reply.

The chuckles of King See’s princes chimed, a lighter noise to the steady undertone of Bring’s princes’ unified laughter. I rather liked the sound.

“He has no answer, Lady Patch,” said Is.

“By glorious blood, I have a name for the glorious voice,” Prince Gangrel said. “Lady Patch, I will answer. My liege takes because he must sustain this pulse and others. He takes exactly what he should to maintain careful balance, and no more and no less. This is how we have survived for 1200 years.”

“You speak as if he did it singlehandedly,” Sigil sneered.

The princes fell into a heated argument about which of their kings had kept Vitale in the best shape since The End. I listened for a time before turning my mind to other things. For instance, Gangrel had said nothing of the carefree manner with which his liege treated the ruin or saving of the world. I could appreciate that King Take took only what was needed, and that he did have a need to take. Vitale could only survive with such takings, if I understood correctly. I did wish to know more about the workings of who he took and when.

The princes fell into a churlish lull.

I cleared my throat. “What would happen if I sent the letter with you now, Prince Gangrel?”

“My liege might cast it into his fire that burns forever.”

I’d spent a lot of time on my letters. I’d even rewritten the last three after speaking to Toil, Sigil, and Hex. “What might make him read the contents?”

“Either your sound or smell would suffice, lady.”

My smell. Gangrel was sniffing me. How uncomfortable and interesting.

I couldn’t think how to gift my sound, but I leaned down and tore off a corner of my quilted red dress. My clothing might smell like me. “I will give you this to take.”

“What is it?” Gangrel asked.

“Lady,” Is hissed under his breath. “I’ll take it to him.”

“Then it would smell of you,” I chided the prince, touching his shoulder to soften the blow of my words. He shuddered at my touch.

Walking around the row of See’s princes, I approached Prince Gangrel at the wall of bars, making sure to study only his bare and filthy feet. Eyes downcast, I held the strip of quilted red out to the monster.

The hand that extended to take the fabric was shriveled in death and shook as though plunged into snow and held there.

“How have we not known of one such as she?” he breathed. “The sight is as the scent as is the sound. I have not known this part of myself until now. I will not go on as I did before.”

“That’s that then,” Will Be muttered angrily. “Now everyone will know about her. Take will blab to the others.”

Gangrel took the fabric, and I slipped a hand in the pouch pocket of my quilted, red dress to pull out the three letters. I found the right one and passed the scroll through the wall of bars. “I suppose the letter might smell of me already.”

I noted the unsteadiness of the monster’s exhales as he took the letter from me too.

“The letter has not rubbed against your skins, lady,” he stammered. “Your scent on the fabric is very strong.”

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