There are certain known facts about vampires. They revile change. They are obsessive-compulsive. They are illogical. They are cursed. They will burst into flames in sunlight.
They are dying.
With less than a hundred vampires left in the world, Yas...
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"Hey."
Breeze glanced up, surprised to find his brother sitting beside him. Surprised, too, to find himself in the guest room they'd redressed for Yasuko's sake. It had only been a few days since they'd left the Cage, yet why did it feel like an eon?
Tavius' face was worn, his eyes slightly red and the skin around them tight. He didn't look any older than he had yesterday, and yet he'd aged centuries. His usual spark was dim, the gray of his eyes flat and dull.
How do I look?
"I need your help."
Feeling like his body belonged to someone else, Breeze nodded, rising to his feet. His joints ached. Or was that his heart?
Tavius led him to the foyer, gloom hanging between the brothers like a weighted blanket. Or a rug—a blinding, heavy—
He squeezed his eyes shut, then blinked rapidly to clear away any threatening tears. The heaviness, however, did not abate.
The foyer and hallway were wrecked, particularly the latter. Some of the vampires had fought in the bottleneck of the hall, clambering over one another, and more than a few had fully dissolved into their mania. Redbud, in the end, had dispatched the survivors herself. Neither of the brothers had had the stomach to help her, too occupied with recovering their sister's body.
