Bloodlust

Chapter Six

Will's POV

I was seventeen when I was turned.

The 1940s were...a time, to say the least. World War Two was in full swing, but the good ol' States were retaining neutrality. It made my blood boil.

My babicka and dedecek had pooled their savings to send Mamie and Pap overseas just before the war broke out in Czechoslovakia. Me and my sister, Ettie, had been sent over in 1938, a year before Hitler's crimes became known worldwide. [translation: grandma and grandpa]

It didn't matter, in the end. The minute Pearl Harbor was attacked in '41, I enlisted into the United States Army at the ripe old age of sixteen. The admissions officer hardly checked my papers. He just stamped them and sent me off on a train, where I was delivered to Sergeant Bouf of the 189th regiment of the 70th division.

We went to Czechoslovakia, then. I looked for Babicka and Dedecek.

It was pointless. They died early on in the Nazi takeover of their village.

At that point, I had seen more death than I had ever wanted to. The only bright spot was my friend, Nathaniel, who never seemed to have any wounds despite being in the thick of the battle more than often.

One night, I was smoking a cigarette with Nathaniel when, without warning, he clocked me in the jaw. Being a proud person with too many frustrations to count, I had hit him back - and he had let me. At some point, I swallowed some of his blood accidentally, unable to spit it out.

The next day, Nathaniel showed no visible wounds, besides the thin rings of yellow and purple where black bruises had once been. That day, I died.

Snipers, damn them. Placed perfectly to hit approaching foot soldiers. Me.

When I woke up, the bullet hole in my chest was gone. I felt lighter, but also painfully different. Nathaniel explained it all when I woke up. Immortality. Bloodlust. Vampirism.

I don't remember much in the days after that. I was a monster. I fed on the bodies of men killed on the battlefield, at least taking out my youngling urges on dead people rather than making more of them. Even Nathaniel wasn't able to stop my bloodlust.

I don't really remember who did. 

It's hazy, as if a layer of compulsion has been thrown over my thoughts. I like to picture my savior as Ettie, my now long-dead sister, or Rebeca, my love from long ago.

I would kill to know who it is. I've tried.

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I blink, rousing myself from my thoughts. It's been decades since I thought of Czechoslovakia, the mass graves in which I was sure my grandparents laid. Of the battlefield. Of Nathaniel. Of Ettie.

Of the savior.

I've always been more perceptive than the Council and other vampires seem to realize. It's from a lifetime of pranking and joking, I think. Noticing the small details, analyzing them for failure. Whatever.

Before we went to capture Nadya, the Council pulled Niklaus and me into a private audience, which was incredibly rare. They told us to watch for her. At the time, I didn't understand why.

I'd be a fool not to now.

Nadya is old - a lot older than she lets on. That much is clear. The way she speaks is strange, as if she has one foot in the past and one in the present. I didn't think much of it, at first, until she seemed startled at the fact that she had been speaking in such a strange way.

Secondly, she mentioned that she had sired Alastair, Rockefeller, and Anastasia. Alastair himself is old, nearly four hundred by someone's last count. Nadya is at least five hundred, then, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was closer to seven.

Then, there was that mention of the French boy. Thierry. My blood rises at the mention of his name, but I'm not quite sure why. Either way, Thierry is an older French name, one that has fallen out of use in recent years. Maybe she's remembering an old friend in Niklaus; maybe she made a mistake.

The most damning thing was her curses and cross that hangs around her neck. My heart ached as I picked it up. I hardly even noticed my burning flesh. The subtle reminder of the religion I had lost made me breathe sharply.

I wanted it back.

Shaking myself from my careful consideration of Nadya Telemun, I look across the seat to see her sitting there, leveling my gaze and sipping from a champagne glass. Nik managed to get us first-class tickets, which Nadya seems to be taking advantage of. I have no idea where he wandered off to, but it gives me more time to figure out the puzzle that is Nadya. I take a moment to appreciate her strange beauty. I wonder how long it's been since she's seen her reflection. God knows I rely on Niklaus to tell me how I look.

Her hair is a dark, chocolatey brown, falling just below her chest in thick waves. Her eyes are a deep forest green, almost emerald, but with a hint of hazel lining the insides. She's slight, but strong. There's something else, about her too. Something that I can't quite place my finger on. I asked Nik about it, after we first met her and he agreed.

There is something about Nadya Telemun that draws you in, without a doubt.

There's something else that makes me feel like I've known her before. In another life.

Failing to break eye contact, she says, "Do you have a tux?"

I blink. Shit. "What?"

She rolls her eyes and takes another deep sip from her glass. "I asked if you have a tux, Will. It's not a difficult question to answer."

I stare at her as if she's grown another head. "Not on me, no."

"We'll have to fix that." Her hair swings as she turns her head to the window and I catch a whiff of lemons and pinesmoke. Huh. "When we land, go to Pierre's on Rue de Avion 4. He'll take care of you."

Before I can stop myself, I ask, "What? Have you had practice?"

She glances at me, a half-smile. "You didn't think you two were the only boys I've brought to Paris, did you?"

"I hoped," I reply smoothly. "I am aiming to be your epic love."

Faster than the breath that immediately finishes my sentence, Nadya grips the arms of my chair, standing in between my legs. Her hair hangs as a curtain around us and her smell is suddenly intoxicating. Her lips are a hairsbreadth from my own when she whispers, "You're very bold, William."

"I try."

Her eyes flick from my lips to my eyes and she smiles. "Interesting," she murmurs and pulls away. I freeze, briefly. That...didn't go how I thought it would. She settles back in her seat, pouring herself another glass of champagne. "Your humanity is a weakness, you know," she says, glancing at me before returning her gaze to the clouds outside.

I want to hurt her. Except for immediately after I turned, my humanity's never been flipped. I haven't wanted it to be. For the fear that I'm a Ripper. For the fear that I'll hurt someone innocent. "Well, not everyone wants to be a soulless monster like you, Nadya."

She laughs, then. It's low and throaty and I'd die to hear it again. Actually die. Not...you get the point. "William, I have had my humanity on this entire time." 

I stare at her, aghast. That's...no. "Are you crazy?" I deadpan. "You...you've done everything you did with your humanity on? Are you a sociopath?"

Nadya grins and I finally see it in all its glory. The monster that Alastair spoke of, the depraved being that Anastasia sneered at. Nadya Telemun is dangerous. Maybe even a descendant from hell. "Ma cherie, I'm fucking insane. I'm also your only hope of making it through this alive. So what's it going to be this time? Survival, or sanity?"

hope y'all enjoyed this little tidbit from will's pov...i promise, more interesting stuff starts happening in the next few chapters, but i was in a bit of a writer's block, so...