The Blood Hourglass Volume 1 Chapter 5

Chapter 5 Goodbye

I don't remember what else I did or when I got home. Maybe I'd learned how to forget early on, or maybe such trivial things didn't need remembering.

As the moon was set, I left my room, which was also something my dad gave me. I knew exactly what I was about to do, and I knew I had to do it no matter the outcome.

As I stood on the roof of the house next to mine, looking at my dad's dark window, I felt emotional. It was hard to define—just something painful. Was it shame? Perhaps. With an owl screech, I took off into the night.

When I stopped again, I was at the entrance of a remote village.

The village wasn't big, but plenty of people lived here. The houses stood close together, taking advantage of this small piece of land. As soon as I walked into the village, I saw the house where the incident had happened. The owner had died and the house was sealed up, but the sealing tapes were torn and waved in the wind, seeming to want to tell a message no one understood. I walked straight to that house and found the door unlocked, in fact barely closed. How could this be? As I pushed my way in, a dark shadow dashed past me and hid somewhere inside. I took my time walking in and closed the door behind me. There was a square table in the room with chairs around it. I sat facing the north, and said, "C'mon on out. I know where you are."

I waited a while, but no one did. I asked in a colder voice, "I think you want me to invite you to come out, but I don't want to hurt you. Even if you didn't die, you'd be hurting a lot."

"You promise not to hurt me if I come out?" a scared voice asked.

"Are you actually discussing terms with me?" I said in a biting tone. "You think you have the right?"

"I—" The voice broke off again, like the speaker had lost her breath. After a long while, she was still silent. I had no time to wait. "Would I talk this much if I wanted you to disappear? Maybe it's easier for me to just make you disappear."

"No!" A woman in a long, white dress appeared before me. Fear was on her face, and she looked like a kid who got caught doing something bad, making me pity her.

"No need to be scared. I'm just here to tell you some things—"

"What are they?" she interrupted. Realizing her error, she lowered her head and stayed quiet.

"I created you because I didn't want you die so pathetically. When I first embraced you, you were given eternal life, so normal food didn't satisfy you anymore. Now you crave blood. But for what you gain you also had to lose something. This is a truth in this world. You're one of the Blood Tribe now. You can choose to be part of the Camarilla or the Sabbat. Remember one thing: while you can drink human blood, treat human lives as precious as your own. If you follow this single rule, you won't have to see me again." I stopped talking and waited for her reply, which was what I had come here for.

"I understand, but . . ." Her voice trailed off and it was impossible to hear.

"But what?" I asked.

"But I really want to see you again. Even though you scare me a little, you . . . you're my only family now. I . . . I don't have anyone else now," she stuttered. A sweet light shone on her pale face.

"Soon you'll see that you have a lot of so-called family in this murky world. But, not all family will treasure you. Some might even kill you. Remember that," I warned her like a father.

"I'll remember." She listened and agreed.

"Fine. I hope we don't have to meet again." I was about to leave, but then added, "Don't quench your thirst in crowded places. There are quite a few monsters hiding among the humans." A noise came from outside the door, as if someone had discovered something, as if maybe they saw us, or the torn door tape or unlocked door.

"Go out the back door. You won't be able to control yourself when you see people. I don't want to get dragged into trouble," I ordered.

"But what about you?" She actually seemed to worry about me.

"No need to worry yourself. Go!" I urged her to leave.

She turned to go, a lonely figure leaving the room. Maybe she was sad and alone, but this was her choice and her fate. She needed to face it; no one would help her, no one could help her. I always believed one's survival depended on one's self. Maybe that was why I didn't leave with her. Maybe . . .