A Place to Belong: Chapter 13

Chapter XIII

That First Taste

I watched in horror as Isadora slumped to the ground, the concrete of the Greenway path stained deep crimson with her vitae. My legs were moving before I could even think, Shoving her shoulder, I rolled her onto her back. It was impossible to tell if she was still alive… or what passed for alive for us, but that wasn’t going to stop me from trying to save her. With a flash of fangs, I slit my own wrist open and pressed it to her mouth, summoning my unnatural fortitude to bear. 

For all that Natalia had been teaching me, the one thing I learned on my own was that I couldn’t trust her. I was a tool to her, something to be used and discarded. When faced with that knowledge, there are two things a person, or in my case a kindred, can do: either accept that your life is forfeit to the whims and desires of another and just allow your role to be dictated by another, or to take the power you have into your own hands. Hone yourself to be a weapon against those who would use you for their own gains. 

In order to do that, I had to become something she didn’t expect me to be: resilient. My mind was already fortified against invasion, as I learned when I was able to resist Marcus’ attempts to make me bow. He was stunned by this, but probably wrote it off as a fluke, but I noticed how much of their power over us relies on us being weaker of will than they were, of us being willing to bend the knee in hopes that one day someone will be willing to bend the knee to us in hopes of one day having someone bend the knee to them. The only way to break such a vicious and pointless cycle is to stand firm. And the only way to do that, is to fortify both my mind and my body. 

I continued building up my mental defenses, pushing back on control and dominating wills, learning to secure what was precious to me. However, fortifying my mind was not enough. I’ve seen other kindred perform amazing feats of speed and strength, far beyond my own capabilities. Diego was first and foremost in my mind when I thought of such feats. His strength was amazing, though he was loath to admit it. He much preferred to think of himself as weak despite his strength. I wanted to become strong despite my weakness. 

As I researched the powers of clans like the Gangrel and Brujah, I found that a similar power I possessed was shared in their bloodline. Not just a way to fortify my mind and body, but the vitae that sustained me as well. Kindred could call upon this potent source of power in times of need to heal ourselves and even push ourselves beyond the point of even our tremendous limitations. I’d never needed to use the power myself, but I trained in it, worked at it, harnessed it. 

And now I needed to share it. 

“Drink!” I urged Isodora, pressing my bleeding wrist into her mouth, feeling the dead flesh give under my insistence. “Drink!”

I called upon the power of my vitae, urging the power I’d cultivated within it to work, to pass to her, and as I felt the vitae flow from me, I washed in agonizing anxiety as her form did not move. Gritting my teeth, I was on the verge of screaming at her when suddenly, I heard it. A soft, sucking sound. Her lips pressed a bit stronger against my skin and I felt her tongue prod at the gash in hopes of eliciting more. 

Glancing down, I saw the wounds on her chest and stomach begin to close, the crimson mess of her skin stitching together with the vampiric strength that resided in both of us. Weakly, she raised one hand and tried reaching for my arm. I gripped her hand, staring down into her glazed eyes. 

“That’s it,” I told her, trying to keep my voice soft and free of the panic flooding through me at the moment. “Drink. Heal.” 

The pain that exploded through me was probably the worst I’d ever experienced in my life. It felt as if barbed wire coated in salt suddenly pierced my arm, digging deep before catching fire in my veins. The scream that came from me was one I couldn’t suppress. I hoped that no one was around to hear it and come looking, but more than anything I hoped that creature, whatever it was, had run too far to hear me. 

Understanding crossed Isadora’s face and she moved to release my arm, but I forced it back down into her mouth, my vitae flowing smoother into her throat. 

“Not… yet…” I said, gritting my teeth against the pain. I looked down, feeling my vision blur red from the blood tears that crept into the corners of my eyes from the agony, but through them I could see that her wounds were still closing. Just a little bit more, and she would be healed. I held the pain in place, tried to separate it from my mind, and tried to discern the difference between my beast’s howling and my own. Hunger ravished me, frenzy nearly overtook me, and as suddenly as it started, the pain vanished. 

At some point, I ended up on the ground, laying on my back, staring up at the stars and moon through the canopy of trees above me, their remaining leaves curled and desiccated, but still clinging to what life remained in them. Never before had I felt so much in common with a leaf. An eclipse of black hair and a pale, worried face, slipped in front of the moon, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw Isadora leaning over me, her hazel eyes expressing concern. 

“You’re making a facial expression,” I said, feeling a bit light headed. “You better be careful it doesn’t stick like that.” 

“Why?” she asked, and I felt the weight of that question settle on my chest. 

“Your wounds,” I said, pointing at the bare, bloodied flesh of her torso exposed though the wide slashes in her normally pristine vintage clothing. The wounds were now healed but her pale skin was still coated in her vitae. “You were dying the final death… You needed…” 

“I was well enough to move,” she cut me off, her voice sharper than I was used to. “You were in pain. You knew what my bite was like. Why?”

“In fairness, I knew what you told me your bite was like,” I corrected her, trying to prop myself up on my elbows. “Now I know what your bite is like. Normally I have a pretty good pain tolerance, but holy shit… that was something new.” 

She pushed me back down, gently but firmly. Exceptionally firmly. I remembered how easily she’d lifted Callie by her throat and decided not to test how much physically stronger Isadora was compared to me. Isadora reached down, gripping my wrist, which I saw was still a bloody mess of torn, ragged meat. As she brought it to her mouth, I winced slightly, but didn’t pull away, trusting her. Her tongue was warm and wet as it rolled over my wounds, the properties of her saliva knitting the gash she ripped into me closed. The pain, which had been a distant screaming in my skull, ebbed to a dull throb. 

“It still hurts,” I observed. “Facinating.” 

“That isn’t usually the word that most people use,” Isadora said, gently helping me sit up, her eyes pained and slightly on the edge of panic. “No more dancing around it. No more Tremere wordplay bullshit! Why? Why did you let yourself suffer like that?”

I looked at her, knowing full well the value of honesty, and knowing full well a woman like her probably wasn’t going to like the answer. Sighing, I held out my arm. 

“Help me up, I’ll tell you as we move, but I don’t want to be here like a sitting duck if that… thing comes back,” I said, and after a brief pause and wary gaze, she gripped my arm and practically hauled me to my feet. 

Without a word, she wrapped my arm over her shoulders and supported me as we moved. Again, I noted how much stronger she was than me, and congratulated myself on the decision to make sure she was the one carrying me because I doubted we’d have made it far the other way around. After we put a bit of distance between ourselves and the place where our blood now mingled in pools on the sidewalk, she slowed and looked up at me. Without prompting, I began speaking. 

“It’s far simpler than you think,” I said to her, shaking my head. “And you won’t be happy with my answer.”

“Give it anyway,” she said, her emotionless tone returned, but the fire in her eyes was still raging. 

“You were hurt,” I said, shrugging and immediately regretting the expression as pain shot through my arm. Gritting my teeth, I continued. “I didn’t want you to be. It was really as simple as that.” 

“Simple as that?” she asked, an edge to her voice, her burning eyes boring into me. I couldn’t quite meet her gaze, but I kept speaking. 

“You… you weren’t just hurt,” I said, my voice quiet. “You were dying. I could save you. I could stop it. I could protect you…” 

“I am not some damsel in need of protecting, Grey,” her voice was steady, but not angry. She was stating a fact, not shaming me for my actions, which was a lot better than I had expected her reaction to be. 

“Maybe not,” I said, laughing slightly, then wincing as more pain shot through my arm. “Hell, I think you’re better at handling yourself than I am. But if I assume that you’re okay, that you don’t need my help when I can and freely wish to give it, and you were to die…” 

“Then I die,” she said, her voice cold and neutral. “That’s how it works. That’s how it’s supposed to work. We should not exist as we do. We should be dead, we are dead. When it is our time we should accept it and go.” 

Her voice grew quieter, softer somehow, as she pulled me closer to her, her face near my neck. I could feel her cool skin press to mine, a slight tremor in her body that could have been from the strain of supporting my weight, or the remnants of her pain, or even something else entirely. When she spoke again, her emotions flooded out, not non-existent as so many thought, but so well masked that she fooled them all. 

“You’re trying to build a world where no one dies. No one suffers. Except, perhaps the people you determine are worthy of it,” her words were not accusatory, just factual, but I could hear the disappointment in them. “That isn’t justice. That’s denial. And you cannot honor me or my faith by denying death. When my time comes, I have made peace with it. To steal me from its jaws because you think that I should not die… that no one should die… you dishonor me and what I stand for. You’re being selfish in that moment.”

I nodded at her, not pulling my head away from hers as I did. Tightening my arm around her shoulders, I pulled her in closer to me, embracing her. She became rigid in my grip, seemingly unsure of what was happening, but I held her, and after a moment, her hands awkwardly slid around my waist and gripped me tightly back. 

“Then I’m selfish,” I said, resolutely. “But too many people think being selfish is a bad thing. I used to tell my students, ‘being selfish is only bad if it's the only thing you are.’ Do you know why?”

“Because selfish people are the worst?” she said, though I caught her teasing tone. “It’s all about me… me… me…” 

“No,” I said, shaking my head and pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes, but not break the embrace. “Selfishness isn’t just about one’s self. It’s about wants and don’t wants.” 

“How is that any different?” Isadora asked. 

“You don’t want me to save you from death at my own expense,” I said to her. “And that’s selfish.” 

Her brow furrowed with anger. 

“How exactly is that selfish?” she asked, her voice hard. 

“You don’t want me to,” I said, smiling at her. “Your wants are selfish, because they’re things you want or don’t want. Too many people think of ‘selfish’ as a bad word. But I saved you because I’m selfish too.” 

“Oh? She said, her voice taking on a curious tone. “How so?”

“I didn’t want you to leave me,” I said, simply. “I feel… well, not normal exactly, but natural with you. I feel… in a world where I know I shouldn’t trust anyone, I feel like you’re someone who’s worthy of trust. And I selfishly don’t want to lose that.” 

She looked at me, her eyes flat and analytical. The moment felt long and uncomfortable because unlike most other kindred, I found reading Isadora exceptionally difficult. Even with our short time together, I knew that she spoke definitively, and only after she’d taken the time to study the situation. It was something I respected deeply about her, though I seemed to keep finding myself at that habit’s mercy. 

A smile crossed her lips and she shook her head. 

“How very Tremere of you,” she said, lowering her eyes and giving a small, curt laugh. “To frame a selfless act as selfishness. You not only refuse to see your crusade for justice as a selfish path of vengeance, but also to see your best traits as anything less than debilitating flaws.”

“That’s not fair,” I said, giving her a small smile. “I’m starting to see that it's a path of vengeance.” 

“Are you doing anything to change that?” she asked me, already knowing the answer. 

“Not until I find something better,” I grinned a bit wider, steadying myself on my feet, feeling my body beginning to recover. “Though you’ll be happy to know that I have several other options in the wings that may be taking more of my attention soon.” 

“Uh-huh,” she said, a sly grin breaking through her neutral mask. “I hope you’re willing to do the work to get there. Spreading yourself too thin on things is a recipe for disaster.” 

“I’ve been known to be a man of singular focus,” I nodded as she began to lead me down the path towards freedom park. Each step was jarring, but as my strength slowly returned the walk became easier, especially with her help. “Though I do have a mantra that most who know me have heard time and time again.” 

“Do you, now?” she asked, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “What is that?” 

“That you should never do anything for one reason,” I said, looking forward and thinking back to the attack. “That thing that attacked us… it nearly killed you in a single hit.” 

“It did,” she agreed, the sound of the smile vanishing from her voice. 

“It actually killed me,” I said, not breaking stride. Isadora was quiet for a moment, either processing or waiting for me to explain. I bit my tongue and debated, but figured that I’d shown her that I trust her, and now I needed to drive that home. “When the Baroness did the blood walk with me, I saw my death. My mortal death.” 

“And that…” she paused, looking over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “That killed you?”

“It did,” I said, nodding. “I saw through my own eyes a second time. Not when it attacked me, but as my sire was feeding me her vitae that creature was throwing up mine. Like it couldn’t stomach it anymore. But he didn’t look like that… He looked… more like a human… less like that…” 

“Your sire?” Isadora said, an edge slipping into her voice. “You said you didn’t know your sire.”

“I said my sire was a mystery,” I corrected. “And she is. A mystery that many are trying to solve so they can use that information against me, and against her.” 

“Ah,” Isadora said, the edge in her voice still there. “Clever wordplay saves the day once again…” 

“It’s the baroness,” I said, my voice too quiet for any but her to hear. I stumbled for a moment as she stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide as she stared at me. 

“You… you… told me?” she asked, stunned, eyes wide. “That’s information that can be bartered, that can be asked, that can be… I can’t lie, Grey! I just can’t…” 

“I trust you,” I said, and I meant it. She looked at me, her eyes wide in terror at the words. “You don’t need to trust me back. I know that you have your reasons, and that the idea of another betrayal could tear you apart, but I trust you. And I needed you to know… I needed someone to know.” 

“Why not Diego? He could lie for you,” she asked, her voice gaining an edge of hysteria. “If someone asks… If Callie asks…” 

“Say what you need to say,” I told her. “Either you’ll tell her everything or you’ll tell her enough to feel okay with how you answered. I have faith that you’ll keep my secret safe and hold true to your beliefs.” 

“You think rather highly of me,” she said, a bitterness in her voice. 

“Yes,” I said simply. Her eyes snapped up to mine, studying my face, my posture, everything, looking for any sign of deceit. A small, disbelieving smile crept across her face. “Either you’re an excellent liar, or you truly believe that. I’m not sure which is worse for us, honestly. But… thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” I said, slowly turning to continue our walk to Freedom Park, knowing that creature was still out there somewhere and not wanting to be caught by it again. 

“It was a wight,” Isadora said, her voice urgent, as if forcing herself to speak before she lost her nerve. I froze, turning to look at her. Isadora was looking down, at the ground, as if steeling her nerves to continue. “That creature… It's what happens when we allow the beast to completely take over us.” 

“That was a kindred?” I asked, disbelief in my voice. 

“Not anymore,” she said, shaking her head. “The fact you survived it… it must have attacked you before it fully turned.” 

She looked up at me, her eyes wide and fearful. 

“How did you know it was the same one?” she asked, direct and terrified of my answer. I looked at her, weighing how to spin it, how to answer without lying, how to share just enough information that I didn’t give away too much. Finally, I settled on the proper way to deal with this. 

Honesty. 

“A bloodstone around his neck,” I said, dropping my gaze. “I saw the exact same bloodstone around the creature’s neck as I saw around my killer’s.” 

“A bloodstone?” Isadora asked, curiously. “Aren’t those magic stones that allow you to communicate with other Tremere?” 

“No,” I said, shaking my head, gesturing for her to come closer and keep walking. Thinking of a mindless vampire that had already killed me once still stalking these woods had me starting to get worked up. She came over, taking my arm over her shoulder and supporting me as we walked. 

“Bloodstones are magical items that allow us to track others. Sometimes we carry one so we can be found, sometimes we slip them into others’ pockets to make sure we can locate them again,” I explained, moving quicker now. “That one was on a chain around its neck. Odds are, someone was keeping track of him and he got loose.” 

“And what? They couldn’t be bothered to find it?” she asked, her voice sharp. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said, not risking another shrug. “But the power of a bloodstone fades over time. If the person trying to recover him failed to do so at the time of his escape because they were, say… Embracing some hapless mortal who got in the way and wasn't able to catch up to him… They may have missed their opportunity.” 

Isadora looked up at me in horror. 

“Are you saying the baroness was keeping that thing?” Isadora asked, fear evident in her voice. “Why would she do that?”

“It wasn’t a wight when it attacked me,” I reminded her. “It is now. She may have been trying to save him.” 

“Save him from becoming a wight… she seems to have failed,” Isadora pointed out, pragmatically. “Shouldn’t she have sent someone out to kill it? The enforcer? I’ve heard nothing of a wight on the loose.” 

“Only about Garou,” I said, nodding. “Possible that she’s letting them take the blame for the wight’s actions while her machinations are still spinning away in the background.” 

“You don’t know her plan?” she asked me, sounding surprised. I shook my head. 

“No. She doesn’t share anything more with me than she feels I need to know,” I told her. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t been figuring a few things out on my own. But I think I’ve hit the wall on what I can figure out alone.” 

“Do we bring the others into this?” she asked. 

“Callie will run right to Marcus and out her,” I said, plainly. “I don’t know what Natalia is up to, but I feel safer with her in charge currently than I would if the power shifted to Marcus. As for Diego… he’s a bit…” 

“Cowardly?” Isadora asked, her voice neutral, telling me that she was hiding her true opinion of our Lasombra. 

“Naive,” I corrected. “He’s stronger than he knows. But he’s blindly loyal to the Anarch movement. He may decide to go with Callie on telling Marcus because Natalia broke some Anarch code. He may go to her out of loyalty to the Barony in an attempt to offer his help. He’s a wild card. Until I know more, I don’t want to let the genie out of the bottle.” 

“Except with me,” she said, a playful edge in her voice. “Does that mean you don’t trust them?”

“I trust them to be them,” I responded, diplomatically. “Callie is Ventrue. She hates me and her sire hates mine. I don’t need that complication right now. As for Diego… I don’t trust him with this information… yet. Maybe one day, but he needs to learn a few more things about himself first.” 

“Things you already know?” Isadora asked. 

“Things we both know,” I responded, smiling at her. “For now, we wait, we watch, and we learn.” 

“A sound plan,” she said, looking up at me. “But there’s a wight out there. Are you willing to let us roam blindly in the dark unaware of it? Or will you stop us from killing it given the opportunity?”

“Do you think we even could?” I scoffed, but shook my head. “If we were in a position where we could save it, I would not even try. It killed me. It will kill all of us. Let it die. As for telling the others… Let me think on how.” 

She raised an eyebrow at me. 

“Meaning, you plan to?” she asked. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “But I need to figure out a way to do it, or a time to do it, where they won’t go running right to Natalia or Marcus with the information. Not to protect her, or protect it, but to protect us. They would just become cat’s paws for the council, and I need to protect them from that. At least from the harm that my knowledge can cause.” 

“There you go, protecting people again,” she said, shaking her head. “So you’ll decide when it's best to tell them?”

“Unless you disagree with that sentiment,” I offered. Isadora shook her head, and laughed again. Small, soft, and melodic. 

“For this, I trust you,” she said, the words hitting with the force of a hammer. 

“For this?” I ask, trying to fully understand her meaning. 

“For this,” she confirmed, then looked up and smiled at me. “For now.” 

We walked the rest of the way in silence, leaning on each others’ strengths, slowly learning how best to move together to make sure we got where we were going safely. There was no other attack, and there were no other words that needed to be spoken. We were on the path, and we were going to find out together where it led.