The Nightwillow

Chapter 4

Another time, he might have argued with Fitz's annoying insistance that they feed immediately, but he reluctantly shared Fitz's concern over his undetected change. Satiating his hunger would help him tame the thoughts ravaging his mind. A carriage ride to the city would allow him to mull over what had happened at the Leeds' ball.

Michael was far from a young vampire. He couldn't remember the last time he lost control over his change, and that made him uneasy. He wasn't experiencing an unmanageable thirst. He had been hungry, and blood was tempting, but he was far from going over an edge.

Yet when he met her eyes, full of electricity...

The energy called to the monster inside, as if it wanted to see his true face. It whispered to him, coaxing out his bloodlust.

He shuddered. Unruly young vampires could do a lot of damage, but they were undisciplined and random when they attacked. Older vampires like him? They could devastate a town like Sugar Hollow with their deadly precision. Piece by piece he could tear the town apart before they even realized what happened to them.

He had seen it happen before, centuries ago, and he had no desire to see that type of carnage again. It was why vampires established rules. As their numbers grew, so did the need to retain order. After all, it was a precarious relationship - the the tie between humans and the creatures that hunted them. The High Council was elected to enforce the rules that kept the delicate affinity between species balanced.

Millennia of rule, though, can breed dissension, the factionalism promting Michael to leave the city. The fight between the Co-existence movement calling for hunter and prey to live in the open and the Dominature Movement encouraging the enslavement of humans like cattle, to be fed upon as desired, was in full gear.

Of course he sat on neither side, not that his lack of interest meant anything to those that wished to tip the scales. He and Fitz were highly sought out by both factions, though neither cared for either option. The fracture of beliefs opened the door to war between humans and demons, and those wars never ended well for either side.

Michael just wanted to stay out of it all and wondered why anything needed to change. Weren't things just fine as they were? Humans were useful, and he admired their ability to do much with their short, fleeting lives. He had long since given up forming attachments to those that would be gone in the blink of an eye. He was entertained by them, even admired them at times, and he thoroughly enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, but humans were no more than food and a means to an end. So why take a side when it was simple enough to maintain the status quo?

Yet here he was in a carriage wondering about what would happen if he lost control and how it would affect the political climate of the day. It was why he thought first of just feeding on Fitz's stored blood rather than going to the city. Their usual places were rife with creature after creature who would try to pull them into the debate, and if he even whispered that it was a human female that put them in a precarious position...he'd never even get to the food he so desperately needed.

He probably still would have resisted if Fitz hadn't suggested a place that, well, he was still rather shocked Fitz knew existed. His friend was usually on the up and up. It wasn't that he thought Fitz ignorant of such shady feeding rooms, but that he would actually use one.

His friend had shrugged his shoulders when Michael gaped at his suggestion and said only, "Sometimes needs must, my friend."

And if his need wasn't so great, he would have turned back in an instant.

They were greeted by an overwhelming stench of decay and desperation as soon as they arrived at the infamous Southside Shipyards. He was no prude, and he had seen his share of poor and unsanitary conditions, but it didn't make him any more tolerant of humans' unwillingness at times to care for themselves. The streets were dirty and garbage was strewn about. Few people who lived here were educated. If they were, they never lasted long along thes shipyards, soon seeking out a life worthy of their intelligence. Hygiene was obviously not a top priority in this part of the city.