a
lethal dose. We prefer to know the history of our donors, though, so that's
usually an unexpected event."
She paused, her glance shifting
between the two of them. "Once annually, in order to retain my full
strength, I have to take a healthy adult in the prime of his life and drain him
dry. I take his life," she added quietly, so there was no
misunderstanding. "He has to be a good person, not the dregs of society.
Blood infected with evil impacts a vampire… negatively."
"Draining him doesn't make
him a vampire?"
The question came from Mr.
Ingram, because of course Jacob would know all this. However, she saw the
forced strain around his mouth, the sharp focus of his eyes. He might know it,
but it didn't make hearing it any easier. And she wouldn't dress it up for
either of them.
She shook her head. "You do
have to drain the body to do that, but to convert a human requires a special
secretion from the fangs. You have to prep the person with three different
marks, like a servant, and make them drink from the sire first as well."
"You always take a man? For
your kill, I mean."
She rolled it over a moment. His
generation held to certain moral tenets that he would never dismiss no matter
his own circumstances. That suggested not only what motivated the question, but
the proper answer for it.
"Always a man. Never a
woman. Absolutely never a child."
She didn't add she chose a
healthy male because she was a female vampire. As such, the taste of a male was
just preferred. Sweeter to her palate.
From Jacob's expression, she saw
he understood the nuances in her response in a way Mr. Ingram would not. He
wasn't pleased with the revelation. She decided to ignore the ridiculous twinge
of lust his possessive reaction sent through her vitals. Obviously a lingering
side effect of her medicine.
"I try to pick a person
with few ties, but that's not easy when you're seeking a person of integrity.
When I go on the hunt, my driver and servant—for it's best to have both to do
this though not completely necessary—help me with transportation and disposal
of the body."
Had Jacob truly understood what
would be required of him during her annual kill? Or like the requirement of
sexual submission, had the significance been lost on him because it was so far
from what he knew the world to be? If he'd truly hunted vampires, he wouldn't
be completely naive about her kind. But she wondered.
Drawing herself up straight in
the chair, she spoke unapologetically. "If I don't do this once a year, I
weaken. Within ten years I'd become a living corpse, even with regular
feedings. It's a form of what you would think of as rigor mortis. Unable to
move, I'd suffer an eternity of starvation. It's likely from that state some of
the myths about our being dead have sprung. A human, stumbling upon a vampire
in that condition, gets too close and the vampire is just strong enough to grab
hold and restore some of his vitality by draining him. But he will have lost
some of his faculties from the deprivation, and control of his bloodlust will
be much harder. Human blood in a terminal quantity from a living donor once a
year is the only thing that prevents imbalance in our constitution."
"Are there those who do it more
than once a year?"
Apparently, Elijah had kept his
wits about him enough to catch the subtle notes of what wasn't being said as
well as what was. "Yes." Lyssa nodded. "For the pleasure of it.
For the added strength they perceive it gives them, like taking an overdose of
vitamins. But I am not one of those vampires."
There was a cap on the number of
humans that could be killed by a single vampire in the course of a year. The
number was higher than she liked, but she was not Council and her influence had
kept the quantity lower than initially proposed. She'd had to be satisfied with
that.
Ingram swallowed. His jaw
flexed. "The explanation's appreciated. I understand from your way of
thinking you're just treating that one person the way I have to
lethal dose. We prefer to know the history of our donors, though, so that's
usually an unexpected event."
She paused, her glance shifting
between the two of them. "Once annually, in order to retain my full
strength, I have to take a healthy adult in the prime of his life and drain him
dry. I take his life," she added quietly, so there was no
misunderstanding. "He has to be a good person, not the dregs of society.
Blood infected with evil impacts a vampire… negatively."
"Draining him doesn't make
him a vampire?"
The question came from Mr.
Ingram, because of course Jacob would know all this. However, she saw the
forced strain around his mouth, the sharp focus of his eyes. He might know it,
but it didn't make hearing it any easier. And she wouldn't dress it up for
either of them.
She shook her head. "You do
have to drain the body to do that, but to convert a human requires a special
secretion from the fangs. You have to prep the person with three different
marks, like a servant, and make them drink from the sire first as well."
"You always take a man? For
your kill, I mean."
She rolled it over a moment. His
generation held to certain moral tenets that he would never dismiss no matter
his own circumstances. That suggested not only what motivated the question, but
the proper answer for it.
"Always a man. Never a
woman. Absolutely never a child."
She didn't add she chose a
healthy male because she was a female vampire. As such, the taste of a male was
just preferred. Sweeter to her palate.
From Jacob's expression, she saw
he understood the nuances in her response in a way Mr. Ingram would not. He
wasn't pleased with the revelation. She decided to ignore the ridiculous twinge
of lust his possessive reaction sent through her vitals. Obviously a lingering
side effect of her medicine.
"I try to pick a person
with few ties, but that's not easy when you're seeking a person of integrity.
When I go on the hunt, my driver and servant—for it's best to have both to do
this though not completely necessary—help me with transportation and disposal
of the body."
Had Jacob truly understood what
would be required of him during her annual kill? Or like the requirement of
sexual submission, had the significance been lost on him because it was so far
from what he knew the world to be? If he'd truly hunted vampires, he wouldn't
be completely naive about her kind. But she wondered.
Drawing herself up straight in
the chair, she spoke unapologetically. "If I don't do this once a year, I
weaken. Within ten years I'd become a living corpse, even with regular
feedings. It's a form of what you would think of as rigor mortis. Unable to
move, I'd suffer an eternity of starvation. It's likely from that state some of
the myths about our being dead have sprung. A human, stumbling upon a vampire
in that condition, gets too close and the vampire is just strong enough to grab
hold and restore some of his vitality by draining him. But he will have lost
some of his faculties from the deprivation, and control of his bloodlust will
be much harder. Human blood in a terminal quantity from a living donor once a
year is the only thing that prevents imbalance in our constitution."
"Are there those who do it more
than once a year?"
Apparently, Elijah had kept his
wits about him enough to catch the subtle notes of what wasn't being said as
well as what was. "Yes." Lyssa nodded. "For the pleasure of it.
For the added strength they perceive it gives them, like taking an overdose of
vitamins. But I am not one of those vampires."
There was a cap on the number of
humans that could be killed by a single vampire in the course of a year. The
number was higher than she liked, but she was not Council and her influence had
kept the quantity lower than initially proposed. She'd had to be satisfied with
that.
Ingram swallowed. His jaw
flexed. "The explanation's appreciated. I understand from your way of
thinking you're just treating that one person the way I have to
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