Page 301 of Rage

Her shoulders are thin and bony in my grasp, her body creaking as we collide. She claws and scratches, kicking her legs, but I am faster and far stronger than this pitiful, cruel human will ever be.

I tackle her to the ground, and her skin tears like crepe at the gentlest press of my fangs. Lady Stilton shrieks, but anyone who could help her has been drugged by her hand.

Blood bursts from her veins, splashing against my tongue. I groan as the hunger overwhelms me. I have no memory of the taste of wine or meat. No ability to recall the sweetest sugars. There is only the decadence of metal and blood. Filling my mouth, coating my throat, warming my belly, and filling my veins.

This is the tricky part. It is easy to get lost in the bloodlust and become the monsters they think we are. Her body slows, the fight in her limbs overwhelmed by the pleasure of my bite. Soon, her screams become moans, her scratching nails softeninguntil they caress my arms and hair. Ours is a soft death. A lovely death, granted by the venom in our bite, but death all the same.

When her hands fall away from my body, and her pleasured moans turn to sighs, I tear my fangs from her throat. Any pain in my body is a distant memory. My blistered flesh regrown as I feasted; my body returned to its full strength by the gift of her blood. Slowly, I rise, wiping blood from my chin and licking it from my fingers.

Lady Stilton gazes up at me, her small body fragile as porcelain. She lies next to her husband, his putrid mass burbling for every wheeze that escapes her.

“Why?” Her voice is less than a whisper, but no sound is too small for my ears. Not after I have feasted.

“Because you are cruel,” I answer. Sweeping the keys from where they fell, I unlock my sibling’s cages, greeting them each with clasped hands and soft words. Many nights have passed since I saw them last, and again, they have trusted me to lead them to this moment.

Bait, Declan called me. The lords and their wives never question his choice of words. They let me sit in their hall night after night, blind to the threat I pose.

I am no more bait than I am the trap set to ensnare greedy lords who place themselves above the people and the land. And in every hall we visit, in every manor where I sit in my cage, there is always one who takes the bait.

“Strip the tapestries from the walls and cover the windows,” I announce, striding across the hall to stand over Lady Stilton. “The poison should wear off by dawn, and then you may feed. Until then, the silver is in the forge. Melt it down and cast coins using the molds in Lord Stilton’s treasury.” A handful of my brothers and sisters nod and depart. I do not doubt they will follow my orders. They have for years.

I am a harsh mistress, but I am fair, not cruel. They know a feast awaits them. They know I would never let them languish the way Lord Stilton has allowed his people to flail.

I bend low and tear Lady Stilton’s skirt, using a length of cloth to gather the ewer and pass it to a night sister. “Stoke the fire and fetch me a blade.”

She nods and departs, knowing what happens next. One of my brothers appears with a leather satchel from Declan’s horse. I waste no time stripping off the filthy shift I have worn for the last week and stepping into my leathers and a soft, linen blouse. My knife belt is a comforting weight around my hips, and my fingers deftly lace the corset.

Another sister braids my hair, weaving it into a crown on my head. Once Stilton and his wife are dealt with, there will be time to bathe. For now, there is work to be done.

Lady Stilton whimpers at my feet. I crouch beside her, running my fingers through her thin hair.

“Do you want to know what happens next?” I ask. “Or have you figured it out?”

“Kill me,” she wheezes, eyes drifting closed.

“No, no, none of that.” I pat her cheek, jostling Lady Stilton to wakefulness. “Stay with me, Lady Stilton. Just a moment longer. There is much to be done.”

“The fire’s ready,” my night sister calls from across the hall. A blaze fills the hearth, burning brighter than all the torches.

“Use the cauldron to melt the ewer,” I order, reaching for my knife. “Now, this is the tricky part, Lady Stilton.” I show her the blade, wickedly sharp and finely oiled. “I won’t lie to you, not when you’ve been such a gracious host.” Leaning close, I grab her jaw, digging my fingers into her thin cheeks to force her mouth open. “This is going to hurt.”

Her arms twitch against the floor, eyes rounding like marbles. Fear makes her body tremble, but I am stronger, fueledby her blood and my undying rage. My blade slices cleanly. A garbled scream tears from her throat, and the fat end of her tongue falls away. My mouth waters as blood wells, teasing me with its rich scent. I toss the thick muscle aside, and two of my brothers grab Lady Stilton’s arms, holding her down as a sister approaches with the cauldron from the hearth.

“It took us a few tries to perfect the process.” I rise to give my siblings room to work. “Lady Beenleigh was our best work to date. She was hardly recognizable by the time we finished. Your own neighbor, and neither you nor your husband batted an eye when we dragged her out. The trick, you see, is to make the alterationsbeforewe change you. It is the only way to ensure they stick.”

I grab a handful of her hair, shearing it away with my knife. Tears stream down Lady Stilton’s cheeks, but all fight has left her. She sobs as I work, cutting her hair and nails, carving a wild creature from the lady of the hall. When my sister approaches with the cauldron, I rise and step away, allowing my siblings to do their part.

Silver caps her tongue, the molten liquid burning her lips and vocal cords. Just as Lady Beenleigh before her, I have rendered Lady Stilton mute and left her hovering on the edge of death. She will not be able to speak her story or warn the next hall of the trap they welcomed with open arms. The wretch I have made of her is the vampire she will become.

She will live until her purpose has been served, and her final death will not be in vain.

When the silver cools, I tear my wrist with my fangs, dripping blood into Lady Stilton’s mouth. For a moment, she lies still, her chest barely rising and falling, and I fear I have gone too far. When her eyes fly open, they are wild and ravaged by the pain I have inflicted. Her throat works, swallowing my offering, and I see the instant her body awakens to the need. Her limbs tighten,back bowing as hunger hauls her upright. Thin lips latch onto my wrist, and the blunt stump of her tongue prods the wound as if she could tear it wider and drink faster.

My head grows light, but I push her away only when my vision dims around the edges. Lady Stilton reaches for my arm, and a brother moves me out of reach, helping me to my feet while two sisters bundle her in a heavy wool blanket.

“Put her in the cage,” I command, thanking my brother with a nod.

When he is certain I can stand, he lets go, attention drifting over the humans in the hall. Some groan in their drugged sleep, while others snore. “And the rest?”

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