Page 36 of The Nephilim's Finesse

I was speechless. My heart raced with shock at her callousness and lack of remorse. How could she be so cruel? My posture straightened, and my gaze hardened as I crossed my arm before me. “You have lost all your humanity,” I said, my voice filled with conviction.

“Because it was taken from me,” she retorted, her chin jutting out in contempt.

I locked eyes with her for a few moments before shaking my head in disgust. “No. You always have a choice.” Without waiting for an answer, I turned on my heel and left the room, unable to remain any longer without resorting to violence.

When I was out of the room, I leaned my weight against the desk and glared at John. All my anger, frustration, and disappointment in that moment slowly morphed into a raging wave of fury. My knuckles were white from clenching my fists so tightly that they had gone numb.

“Fuck!” I slammed a hand down on the wood with a resounding thud, leaving a lasting impression on its grainy surface.

“What happened?” John asked cautiously.

“I wasted two of my questions with her because I lost focus!” I spat out bitterly. She had this effect on me that I couldn't shake off.

“Could happen to anybody...”

“No!” I punched the concrete wall with all my might. The impact reverberated through my body, muffling my yell. My fists left deep indentations in the material, and blood trickled from the creases of my knuckles where the skin had been ripped away. After flying off the handle like that, I exhaled deeply, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “No. This shouldn’t happen. I shouldn’t let her get to me.”

John chuckled softly despite the situation. “At that, you failed miserably.”

“I meant emotionally," I corrected him tersely.

He just raised an eyebrow in response, recognising that there was no use in denying what he saw right before his eyes. She got under my skin so easily that it made me more furious at myself than anything else. It was embarrassing how she could press my buttons, something I had never allowed anyone else to do before her.

"I need to be more in control,” I said firmly. “I should play her, not the other way around."

John shook his head gently, as if trying to correct a misperception. “I don’t have the impression that she plays you. I don't hear what is said between you two, but her face is always honest; there's no slyness or manipulation when she talks to you." He scratched his brown hair for a moment and then added, "She’s affected by you, too.”

I grunted in response before tracing my fingers over the dent in the wooden desk, feeling its shape through skin instead of sight.

“She's our nemesis. Your opinions on matters couldn’t be more opposite. It’s clear as day that you’ll fight over them. You both seem to trigger the worst in the other. I mean, I watched this. You sat down, and a minute later, both of you faced each other, ready to jump at each other's throat. What happened? Usually, nobody can make you lose your cool.”

John was right. She triggered something in me. For the better and the worse, and I had to find a way to cope with it.

11 Victorija

I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth as I watched Raph leave my cell, anger boiling hot inside of me. Why was it me who was deemed the villain? Why'd they hate me so much? As if they were saints who did everything right. Why were the others, who had their own selfish motives, not looked down upon similarly? I wanted the best for us vampires: a life where we wouldn’t be hunted down because of what we are, despised for our differences, no matter how hard we tried to protect ourselves. And yet, the mighty witches were allowed to hunt us and kill us on sight, while any violence in self-defence was attributed to monstrosity. It was unbearable, this unfairness of double standards. It was forgiven if they did something wrong, but if I did the same thing, it was held against me.

Furthermore, I was the worst in their eyes because I managed to unite the vampires and give them a reason to fight together.

In my life, I never got something for free. Everyone I encountered wanted something from me, never offering anything in return. It made me despise them all: humans, witches, fae, Nephilim, demons; everyone seemed to have a hidden agenda that inevitably left me worse off in the end. Nobody did something just for me.

I was furious at Raph for not trying to see my side. With all I had to endure, I had to learn not to feel anything, to see my enemies not as feeling beings but as objects or obstacles that I had to destroy. If they showed me no mercy, why should I show them any? With force, a memory surfaced.

I had sat in the murky dungeon cell for several days now. Although 'twas most dark, I could discern the bars of metal that warded me in and the cold fetters that bound my hands. The odours of earth, piss, blood, and excrement assailed me all at once, and what's more, I heard nought but the scurry of vermin amidst the silence. My sire had accused me of being a witch in the middle of the town square. Though Thorne had said it was to teach me a lesson, he ne'er did elaborate on its purpose or meaning. They dragged me away, threw me into this cell, and let me rot here. One of the guards, a filthy man with almost no teeth left, had brought me mouldy bread and brackish water, which I didn’t touch. A fortnight previously, I had just become a vampire without warning or instruction, and it appeared as though Thorne had sought to see what form of gifts I possessed. By his account, I must learn all things through experience alone, yet I knew not why he put me to such rigour.

Yonder in the gloom, I heard a clamour of footfalls. They were heavy and irregular, telling me that the other guard was coming down the steps with a cruel smile. He limped with his left leg, the wound still open, pus and blood still leaking into the bandage, the stench abhorrent. Flickering light from his torch reached my cell, blinding me for a moment. He pulled the key from his belt, the noise unnaturally loud in my ears after all the silence, and opened the cell door. As the door opened, a stench of unwashed men, timeworn leather, and garlic wafted forth.

“Sweetheart, I have to bring you to the trial, where they'll surely sentence you to death by burning at the stake,” the man croaked with a humourless laugh, which gave way to coughing. “You’re beautiful. Such beauty should not go to waste.”

He stepped within arm's length, and his acrid sweat burnt my nose. I turned my head to the side, avoiding him. He gripped my ankles and pulled them up to him. He then seized upon my ankles, pushing them up to his chest, stretching me out full length. My wrists were in the shackles anchored to the wall, my feet in the middle of the cell. The cold bit into my back; the damp earth soaked my simple linen gown. The disgusting-smelling man got on his knees and pushed my dress upwards. Oh no, not again. Why must I bear this repeatedly? Why couldn't men just let me be? He undid his breeches and started to stroke himself. Knowing it was fruitless; yet, I wouldn’t let this happen without a fight. I tugged with all my might against the shackles that bound my wrists. Simultaneously, I kicked him with my legs. And then suddenly, a marvel did occur. He flew through the cell, his back connecting with the metal bars. Grunting, he fell onto his side. I realised that my hands were still in shackles, but those weren’t attached to the wall anymore. Why was I so strong suddenly? I looked at my wrist before me and pushed against the metal that bound me. It broke under my strength. I was free. The cell door was still open; the guard was in a half-conscious state. I stepped towards him and kicked him in his ribs. I heard the crack as several of them broke. He winced. Now I got on my knees, took his water flask from him, and poured it over his throat and head. Revealing my extended teeth at him, his eyes got wide, and he held his hands before him.

“Have mercy, I beg you!”

Ice built around my heart. “Would you have shown mercy if I had begged you to stop?”

I knew the answer even before I saw it in his eyes. I leaned over and buried my fangs in his throat, drinking his bitter-tasting blood, draining his life essence out of him. I wanted to make him suffer, and amazingly, he screamed and squirmed in pain. Good.

When he breathed no more, and I felt life surging within me, I put forth my strength upon the bars that barred me in. I was far stronger than I could ever imagine! With ease beyond measure, I ripped the doors free from their places and thrust open other prison doors, some filled with prisoners, others not. I didn’t care.

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