Qui vivra verra [Blaize]

[Blaize]

The laughter that peeled from Blaize’s throat was lacking mirth. How many more childer would he have if he turned everyone he’d lost control with? There’d be that man in the park mere nights after Blaize himself had been turned, but he presumed that there was no coming back from a snapped neck. ”You have to be careful. Your strength isn’t your own anymore and it’ll take a while for you to get used to it,” he said. He was avoiding answering the questions by substituting the answers for advice that he himself had not been given.

There was the creepy voyeur at Aleksandra’s old apartment complex, though he’d ended with only a broken nose. Last but not least, Aleksandra’s ex, Lance. Blaize had got him to an ambulance in time, and as far as Blaize knew he’d lived. No further trouble had yet reached them; there’d been no cops, no investigations. Though Blaize did sometimes wonder whether the hunters were on to him because of Lance. There was no other explanation.

”Breno was a friend. There was an attack, he was dying. Aleksandra was taken and drained by another vampire. I saved them both,” he said with a pointed glance. ”How? The same way I did with you. By blood,” he said. ”Don’t you remember it…?” he asked, the edge to his tone softening. He was curious.

The indicator clicked, tick tick tick tick, and the car rounded the corner.

[Darcy (DELETED 9675)]

Their acquaintance was barely an hour in its making and Eugénie was becoming fluent in Blaize. His caution regarding her strength was not the answer she sought, but she knew the answer he gave was another attempt to stall. This was not a conversation he wished to have, but it wasn’t enough to get him out of it. Silently, she waited.

Breno… Aleksandra… Eugénie furrowed her brow and considered his answers. The way he’d phrased it was as telling as what had been left unspoken. She wondered, briefly, whether Breno’s accident shared any similarities with hers. Blaize’s wording left room for assumption, but she wouldn’t make any. No, her mind was following along. Her brow furrowed deeper, hand reaching for her throat. Fingertips gingerly ghosted the puckered scar.


“Blood for blood,” she replied, peering at him thoughtfully.

“How much is changed? And only blood, or all body fluids make change?”

How much of an exchange would lead to a new vampire? Was vampirism viral? Was is an opportunistic infection that relied on a weakened immune system? An immune system ravaged, nearing on shock, the only susceptible? Was there an ideal moment to make the exchange? Were there strings attached?

Eugénie’s hand dropped to her lap, attention still on her sire.

[Blaize]

The others had asked these kinds of questions but they’d done so over the period of a few nights, a few weeks. Darcy was like a toddler, avid and eager to learn. Which wasn’t such a bad thing but the bombardment of questions was getting on Blaize’s last nerve. The frustration urged by the last two was due more to the fact he didn’t know the answer as well as he should. Did it matter?

”I don’t understand the first question. How much? Do you mean how much of yourself? And as for the second, as far as I know it’s just blood. And don’t get pregnant,” he added hastily, glancing sideways before returning his attention to the road. She’d mentioned fluids, and aside from saliva he couldn’t of any other off the top off his head aside from semen. It was a natural segue. They’d passed one block, and he began to slow, anticipating the moment Darcy would tell him to stop. He couldn’t look for numbers, he didn’t know which was hers.

”By human or vampire. You can still get pregnant but if you do, it’ll be a monster that’ll probably kill you on its way out,” he said. He’d never researched the reason why. He always assumed it had something to do with the unnatural nature of vampire-kind. Why fadebeasts? Fade suggested death, as if they were demons come straight from the depths of hell. It sounded about right. The last thing Blaize ever wanted to do was deal with a vampire pregnancy. He himself was careful, but he was not Darcy’s father. It was his job to warn her, yes, but he couldn’t control her, nor deign to think he could tell her what to do.