him. Were you to attempt it, Two, I do not think he would be particularly upset with you. He would likely welcome the entertainment. He would destroy you, of course, but he would do it smiling.

“We cannot fight him, and even if we could, even if we pulled off the miraculous, what would be the purpose? The inevitable end for those we would be trying to save does not change. It is too much risk for no reward.”

“Well that’s fucking great. I hate all of the choices, Theroen.” Two was beyond anger. Beyond tears. Her voice was hollow, exasperated, depleted of hope. Melissa looked at her with sympathy, as if Two was the true victim.

“I’m not fond of any of them myself. I’m not entirely certain which I would choose, if the choice was mine. It is not. Melissa knows, has known for decades, that it is not. The choice lies with her, and I will abide by her decision, even if she chooses your fourth scenario.”

Melissa sighed, shut her eyes, leaned back against the couch. Tears, tinged pink with blood, slipped down her face, but she did not lose her composure. After a long minute in which Two thought her own heart had ceased to beat, Melissa looked up at the ceiling, and then over at Theroen. Her face was hard, and rage danced behind her eyes. Rage at them? Rage at Abraham? Rage at the situation? Two could not tell.

“I want a promise.”

“Anything, Melissa.”

“Take Samantha with you. Don’t leave her here for him to pervert. I know it goes against what he asked, but he can’t care that much. She’s just a human. Promise me you’ll take her, Theroen, and get her home. You can make her forget. Will you promise?”

“You have my word, Melissa.”

“Good. Then I want you to kill me. I’d rather you than her. Kill me, and kill Tori, and when Abraham rages, spit in his fucking face and tell him it’s from me.”

* * *

It had been twenty minutes since Melissa had departed, and Two still felt numb. There had been little more in the way of conversation after Melissa’s choice. She had asked Theroen when, and he had said only “Not yet.”

Melissa had nodded, and left to hunt. The expression on her face was dark and distant, and Two did not envy whomever Melissa might choose as a victim.

Theroen sighed, stood, turned off the television. He turned to Two, his face set in its typical expression. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” Two admitted. “But I think if I drink right now, I’m never going to be able to stop crying. How can it be like this, Theroen? Why aren’t there more choices?”

“Abraham makes it so. His age, his power, his will. There is something I neglected to mention to Melissa, something which makes me willing to risk his wrath and do as she asks. He believes he has found a way to make more children... to circumvent the process of the Eresh blood that eventually prevents us from creating any further fledglings. Our blood becomes too powerful, and our offspring go mad. Eventually they simply die from the shock.

“Through great study, and watching your progression, Abraham believes he may be able to dilute his blood and, by doling it out in minute increments over a lengthy period of time, create some sort of sane fledgling.

“I left this out because Melissa does not need to know. It is bad enough that she will eventually be engulfed by Missy, let alone that she will eventually become useless to Abraham entirely. When that happens, Abraham’s natural instinct will be to butcher Melissa, Tori, and Samantha without a second thought. Whatever death I can offer Melissa will be much better than anything Abraham might prepare.”

“God, Theroen. How can you talk about this? How can you be this... this...”

“This cold? I have been contemplating it for decades, Two, as I have said. Melissa’s fate is of great importance to me. I wish I could provide her with more choices. I wish I could save her, but I don’t know how. Every emotional fiber of my being screams against the decisions that are being made here. But I don’t know what else to do.

“The young man whose body I occupy is still here, somewhere, Two. Vampires do not age as human beings do, and the hot blood of youth is still very close to the surface in me. I simply have centuries of practice in controlling it. That young man rages against this.