The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [163]
“If you stay here you will die,” said Carandini wearily, rubbing his temples. “That’s obvious. I don’t particularly wish to help you but it seems I must do something or you will die, which I am compelled to prevent. So what next?”
“I don’t know,” said Awa, picking up the bottle. “Is this wine?”
“Yes,” said Carandini, and, waving his hand, two glasses appeared on the table beside her, sparkling quartz goblets that blazed with the light of the wall. “Pour me one, too, if you please, might as well enjoy being foolish for a night.”
“I drank with a skeleton before,” said Awa. “But he really couldn’t keep it in, of course, and it couldn’t affect him. I suppose you are different?”
“I am.” Carandini winced.
“Tell me about your type, about your differences from the undead I am familiar with,” said Awa as she filled his glass. As soon as she finished it floated off the table and drifted over to his languid fingers.
“We require blood to stay alive,” said Carandini. “As you will eat a finger to replace a missing digit, we must drink fresh blood to preserve ourselves. We do not have a heartbeat unless we wish it, however, and as our bodies maintain a very cool climate the blood inside our veins will last a very long time and we do not need to refresh it very often. If we choose to use it, it goes bad much quicker and we must ingest fresh human blood.”
“Choose to use it?” Awa sipped her wine and found it delicious, but much as she wanted to throw back the glass and pour another she knew that getting sloppy with this monster would not further her cause. “How do you use your blood if you do not have a heartbeat?”
“We do not have a heartbeat unless we choose to. I’ve turned mine on now, for example, in order to digest and savor the giddiness this beverage affords. If we’re of a mind to enjoy a nice meal, or other physical pleasures, then we activate the dormant organs required for the task and set to. The blood goes bad much quicker when we do this, though, so we usually avoid it.”
“Where do you get human blood down here, so far from everything?” The question made her a little uncomfortable, as she doubted the answer would be pleasant. It was not.
“We have a farm further down,” said Carandini, draining his glass. “We raise them, humans, and keep them in pens downstairs. They’re never in the best of health but we’re rather good at tending to their maladies, and so we always have something on hand. They don’t taste as good as those that live above—not enough exercise, probably, or maybe the sunlight has something to do with it. At any rate—”
“That’s terrible!” Awa set down her glass. “What gives you the right to do that!?”
“The same thing that gives them the right to eat cows and sheep and everything else—there’s no one to stop us. Of course at this point we’ve developed artificial tonics that serve just as well, but it really doesn’t taste as good so we just keep it on hand for an emergency, like a plague outbreak or—”
“Doesn’t taste as good?! You mean you don’t really need the blood, you just prefer it?!”
“That’s it.” Carandini burped and the bottle floated from the table to his hand. He refilled his glass. “But shouldn’t we be worrying about you, Lady Awa? Why the curiosity about us?”
“Chloé,” said Awa, more than a little disturbed and doubtful he would help her if he did not have to. “She—”
“She’s one of us now,” said Carandini. “You were heard when you told me in the lab what you’d really come here for, and Breanne’s taken care of it.”
“What?!” Awa stood up. “When, and how—”
“They’ve been listening in, of course, and the little death you gave the girl was easily undone. You did arrive just in time, it sounds like she was almost gone. Why you would prefer her to be one of us instead of simply restored to health is a question I wouldn’t mind answered, in light of how ignorant you seem to be of us.”
“Wait … what?”