Page 4 of Liar Witch

The smell of it is everywhere. The metallic taste rich on my tongue. I swallow reflexively, but the source is gone. Dead, like the dozen others lying facedown around me.

Need more.

None of it tastes right.

The memory of something better, stronger, teases my mind.

“We have our winner!” The Announcer yells over the noise of the crowd. “It’s been hundreds of years since his last fight, but the proud champion of the Blood Pits defends his title! Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, Rysen!”

The roars that erupt from the seats above me are deafening. Hundreds of vampires worked into a frenzy by the scent of blood on the sand and the loss of their gold.

I ignore them completely, heading for the exit at the far end of the sands. Blood. There’s more blood in my cage. They always leave a human there. The Pits skim a small number of convicted criminals from the city to feed us. Some even volunteer. Death by vampire is quicker than a long, slow demise in the Claw.

Under the sandy arena, the endless, winding corridors of other rabid, caged vampires form their own unique labyrinth. The floor is sticky with old blood. The smell keeps us all on edge.

My newly regrown fangs ache. Needing the blood. I can smell the fresh stuff now, cowering in the corner.

The desire is so strong that I don’t notice the door of the cell sliding shut behind me. Bloodlust makes us dangerous, but it also makes us predictable, each move dictated by the urge to feed.

The human pleads for his life for a second before I rip his throat out and sink my whole face into the wound. The world stills, time ceasing to exist as I glut myself.

It’s not enough. Never enough. The absence of the rich flavour I’m craving makes me roar in fury, rattling the bars around me.

Mew.

The tiny noise snaps me out of the blood-rage.

There, on the ground, a tiny silver tabby regards me. Her blue eyes twinkle as she stares at me. Her fur is wet, and the scent of rain clings to her as she licks herself clean, but she’s still instantly recognisable.

Opal.

That one word penetrates the fog. A single, piercing instant of clarity that has me throwing myself backwards.

If Opal is here, Nilsa won’t be far. In this state, my mate’s blood...

Goddess, what I could do to her. My fangs ache at the thought, but I shut down my body’s reaction with a viciousness that surprises me.

“Get away!” My voice is raw. “Don’t let her come here.”

The cat just cocks her head, still regarding me in silence. After a few more seconds, she steps through the bars, paws careful to stay away from the puddle of blood still dripping from the human.

I reach down instinctively, then stop as I notice the gore covering my hands.

Goddess, what have I become? How could I return to this state so quickly after all I did to conquer my bloodlust last time?

The cat stretches up, ignoring the blood completely, and bites me. Tiny teeth, a sharp reprimand, followed swiftly by the rough lick unique to felines.

“Useless, stupid vampire. Doesn’t even have any food for me after I gotrainedongetting here to save him.”

I almost fall over in surprise at the disgruntled, feminine voice which floats through my mind.

“You can talk.” Is this another symptom of bloodlust? I don’t remember hallucinating last time.

“Oh no, the cat can talk. Thehorror.”She paces daintily around the cell before moving back toward the door.“As fascinating as your ignorance is, we have bigger issues and I’m starving and soggy.”She says the last with a shudder.

“No! Wait. Don’t go.” I have the distinct feeling that if Opal leaves, my grip on sanity will disappear too.

That’s how the owners of the Pits operate. Periods of starvation followed by plentiful blood and no interaction. Without conversation, or even eye contact with another sentient being, it’s easier for us to fall further and further into the bloodlust.