Felix's POV

Just a few drops of EVe blood is both a rush of power and pleasure to our kind, the serpent kind – vipers and hybrids alike. But hybrids assimilate it better than we do. One small drop is enough to make them dangerous to be around. It heightens everything, including emotions I don't care to sense.

Usually, I make it a rule not to drink blood with hybrids. But after what I've seen, today is an exception to that.

My own blood responds to the hit by making the room spin and open-up, revealing the sentiments of those around me in gastronomic delight. This is what I've been waiting for, hungering for.

"You haven't come out to play in a while, Felix. Hope you haven't been avoiding me?" Isa reprimands. His smile is easy, eyes glazing over.

No doubt, he's feeling the same effects I am.

"The Ascension is coming up," I say, by way of an excuse. In reality, nothing much has changed. I'm supposed to be training more but even that has limits when you can't tap into your own powers to begin with.

"Ah the Ascension, when you inherit your father's mantle correct?"

I nod. "Yes, there's a lot going on or I would have dropped by sooner."

"Ah, don't tell me you missed me Felix."

"Hardly, I'm here purely for the premium libations." I hold up my empty glass.

After the second shot the staff leave us the bottle, so Isa pours me another making it our third straight, and leans back against bar.

"I'm hurt Felix, am I not to your taste?" He asks as he lounges, flashing his trademark devilish-grin at me.

Trust Isa to turn this into an opportunity to flirt. Not that it means anything, he'd seduce a cat if it got him the milk.

Golden fire-lights for eyes complement waves of silver, sleep-tousled hair, falling untamed across an over angelic face.

It's hard not to see the resemblance to his brute-sized brother Dias, or to the rest of the savages that make up the Vasquez clan. But Isa is willowy and languid where his twin is not. Blood addiction has way of affecting the body as well as the mind. Taking too much can do damage as not enough.

Another shot of the red liquid.

"You're too skinny for me. I prefer the shorter, softer types. Someone I can really get my teeth into, you know?" I quip. On the edge enough to enjoy the game. But not too much. I haven't let my guard down yet.

Isa laughs like I'm the best entertainment he's had all night and slaps me on the back. His strength is beyond me and he almost slams me into the bar, if I hadn't braced myself in time he would have.

"Sometimes I forget you're a viper," he chuckles.

"Sometimes I forget that you're a pathological killer."

"Ooh I like this one Isa. Pretty and twice as witty" The bar girl chirps, winking at me. We high five.

"Pick on the hybrid, why don't you," he sighs, downing his fourth, no fifth shot, and motions for the human girl to get us another bottle as we drain the one we have before us bone dry.

"So talk to me, I'm hearing all kinds of dank and depressing things about you vipers these days. What's all this talk about a serial killer?

"No much to tell."

"Felix come on! It's me Isa. Don't leave your friend in the dark. What happens to the vipers impacts our business here, you know that. I know you know something."

"First, tell me about this blood," I say, lifting a glass of it. Its centre dark and compelling, bleeding to a soft blush around the edges. In the light, the glass appears inflamed.

Isa's lip curls into an obscure smile. "It's good, no?"

"It's sublime," I say and mean it. "The Americas?" Blood trade across the Atlantic is booming industry, unlike in the Old World where we cling feverishly to the scars of the past.

"No, this isn't some dirty import. This is a local delicacy and one of ours, a house vintage you might say. You could try it warm and pulsing in your mouth if you like? Body temperature enhances flavour."

I narrow my eyes, trying to focus on what he's saying over the buzz of power in my veins. "You have the EVe here, now? Alive?"

Isa leers, revealing a mouth full of bloody teeth and tongue, though both his fangs – un-retractable, unlike mine – are stark against his ruby lips, a fine china white. "Alive and very much bite-worthy."

While we never publicly acknowledge our love for the taste or influence of blood. In the company of hybrids, vipers have no secrets. They at least, understand our desire, the oldest desire of all. The need to take life.

Still. I should not be drinking EVe blood, alive EVe blood. Even if it is from a glass. In any company.

It's the Prime who sets the example for the rest. Our family are supposed to be better than that. I'm supposed to be better.

I run my own tongue over the top of my upper gums where an extra set of pointed canines are neatly tucked away. Vipers evolved to blend in with sapiens, as well, we have little use for them given we no longer feed from an open vein. I've certainly never tried.

One day, our retractable fangs will disappear completely from our gene pool. And then we will never be able to. I've no idea why the thought makes me mourn a little, but it does.

"Don't pull that face Felix. It breaks my heart."

I set the glass down, empty once again, upturning the corner of my lips to lighten a downward spiralling mood. I doesn't quite reach my eyes.

The moment I ascend all eyes will be on me. This could be my one chance try the very thing we were born to do, to taste blood hot and fresh the same way my ancestors did many years ago.

"Sure," I answer.

Taking my glass and what's left of the second bottle, he slides both out of reach. "Then come with me."

And just like that, I'm caught.

As we turn to leave the bar, we're interrupted by another hybrid, one of Isa's crew, stacked like a vault and twice as tall towering over us both.

Despite being well-built, the twins are clearly on the scrawny side for hybrids. In some ambiences, they look more viperish. Still, their lack of imposing muscle hasn't damaged their brutal reputation. The Vulture Twins run one of the largest illegal blood banks in the Old World, an intricate underground trading ground reaching far and wide, snaking either side of Eden's Wall. That I associate with them irks my father no end, and most likely why I do.

His guy talks in a low voice. Humour and swagger die away suddenly, leaving Isa fully alert and glaring at the other hybrid like he hasn't eaten for days.

I try not to listen, tuning into the music and crowd, giving Isa his privacy. When all is silent between them, I turn back.

Isa's eyes are murderous, a dark storm rising and flashing dangerously over and over. He grabs the other guy up by the shirt, dragging him off the floor.

"Where... where is he?" Isa hisses, his voice is strained, strangled. His eyes have grown into two black holes taking away the light.

"The Shadow Lounge. We moved his body there."

He drops the other hybrid like a sack of potatoes. I raise a brow in askance of what the hell is happening but he doesn't give me another look. Instead, he shoves past me, smelling faintly of blood and fear. His face reminds me of the corpse I just left – dead and drained. Something has Isa Vasquez spooked.

Usually, hybrid business I leave well alone, but anything that has Isa this shaken is not something I can ignore. I send a mental image to Avari of the turn of events, a snapshot through my eyes so he doesn't come looking. I sense his worry, but I'll have to fill him in later.

Then I tail after Isa, sprinting up steps two at a time. Members of his pack melt out of the darkness and fall in behind, joining our procession. Isa's heart pounds wildly inside of my skull, racing just ahead of me as I chase him down. He smells like prey.

We enter. Through the far doors, a side entrance to the main rooms, I see his men standing around in a semi-circle in Isa's private lounge. An upper level private bar that connects lavishly to a set of exposed brick-walled apartments, home to those who live above Oblivion. For convenience more than anything, a spiral staircase twists up the centre linking top to bottom, and dividing the lower lounge directly two - one side for gambling and snooker, the other for entertaining and self-indulgence at its best.

I smell the stench of burnt flesh long before I see the body on one of the leather couches.

It takes a couple of seconds to register.

There is no head.

Isa strides into the room and falls to his knees in front of the body as though he's praying. No longer aware of his audience as he searches around the room.

"Where is it?" He asks quietly.

"Sir?"

"The head! Where is his head?!"

"Sir, the head is missing."

Isa clenches his jaw and turns back to the body, bloodless and severe, the wound cauterised on impact.

An enforcer weapon then.

I recognise the ring on the left pinkie finger. It's Dias lying there without a head. Isa's brother. His twin.

"Find it." Isa snarls, on edge of chaos, almost consumed by desperation.

The room empties, until it's just the two of us and a headless corpse. The bitter-sweet stench of his grief pervades my physical senses in more ways than one. I don't know what words to say. If it was Avari lying there...

I walk up next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. I don't know what else to do.

Silence suffers the room as Isa says nothing, does nothing. He just stares. He doesn't push me away so I stay with him, with my hand light on his tightly coiled shoulder.

"I'll help you find who did this." I offer eventually. It's only thing I can say and it sounds ridiculous once the words leave my lips.

"When I find who did this I'm going to rip out their beating little heart so fast..." He stops, choking, close to breaking. It doesn't even sound like Isa – too small, too muted.

We stay there for the longest time, while Isa's eyes flick back and forth over the dead body, burning the image of his dead brother into his memory or willing the body to sit up and explain away some sick joke.

Finally, he gets up and dusts himself off, fixing his clothes, but mostly fidgeting. Closed off and resigned to everyone but the ghost of Dias, half belonging to another world yet coveted in the veil of this one. His eyes are dull and lifeless as he runs his pale hands through pale hair, face the colour of ash and despair.

"No one is burying him until he's whole," he says to me, shaking enough to wake the dead.

"Of course." I guide Isa to the next room where I know there's a self-serve bar, away from the body of his dead brother, and sit him down in his favourite leather chair. The bar is well stocked. I grab some glasses and a crystal decanter of some liquid I hope is whiskey or something of the like – dark and smelling strong.

A splash from my own glass tells me it'll do.

Isa takes three fingers of the what I give him but doesn't drink anymore. Instead, he slumps forward wringing his hands. Confusion and disbelief skittering across his fine features. He closes his eyes and lets out a broken sob, shoulders and body beginning to shiver. Whiskey, what's left of it, hits the floor with a splash as he covers his face in his hands and silently falls apart.

***

Author's Note - 

[image credit to the delectable Greg Narwat]

Another chapter was supposed to be up last week. 😣

Apologies for the delay lately. My writing mentorship is kicking my ass right now with so much writing work! I might have to drop down to two updates a week, but let's see how this week goes!

Thank you for sticking around and not leaving me 😭 I think I need lots of donuts to get through the next three months! 🍩🍩🍩

I hope you liked it! What did you think of Isa? Tell me your lovely thoughts?

Send me love ❤️

Lisxx