Chapter Text
“The fridge is empty,” the perpetually scowling vampire girl declared as she barged into the room without knocking. “You haven’t filled a single blood bag in days, what is the meaning of this?”
Harrow took several steps forward across the spacious room, her combat boots making a heavy thud with each of them. Gideon preferred it that way. There were moments when Harrow stalked across the house so silently, if she so desired, that Gideon couldn’t hear a single sound. Like when she approached the room moments ago. She crossed her arms and looked around, crinkling her nose when her gaze fell on the several magazines sprawled around on the messy queen-sized bed. As if she wasn’t the one who bought them for Gideon.
In the dimness of the room, she always blended in with her outfit entirely devoid of color. Her hair, hoodie, pants and boots were all black and covered her quite short form, which was always full of unrighteous fury. Only her skull-shaped, silvery earrings added a slight pop of color to her frame as they gleamed and reflected weak light.
“I’m so fucking bored,” Gideon said as she sat on the chair, spreading her legs and resting her elbows on them. “And that was the only way to make you come out and talk.” She barely had to look up to make eye contact.
“I’m not here to entertain you, and your boredom is, quite honestly, none of my concern,” said Harrow, as her scowl deepened. “Now, get back to pumping blood, unless you want me to gut you like a fish and take it myself.”
“If you want my blood that much,” Gideon said slowly, her voice dropping lower. The grin tugged the corners of her mouth as she brought her fingertips to her lips and licked them. Taking her time, making a show out of it. She tilted her head to the side and dragged her wet with saliva fingers across her own neck, tracing the path of the jugular. “Come and get it. It’s right here, one chomp away.”
Harrow’s nostrils flared, as if she could smell the blood pumping beneath Gideon’s skin. Her black eyes were fixed on the trail left by Gideon’s fingers. For a moment, they resembled the flat circles of a mindless, hungry beast. Gideon could feel her own pulse as her heart started hammering harder, while her instincts screamed at her to stop and remove her hand from the burning pyre.
“Well, there are other places if my neck doesn’t fancy you,” Gideon said, and spread her legs even more, accompanied by the creak of leather pants. She lowered her hand and brought it to her thigh. Gideon wasn’t the biggest anatomy aficionado, but knew that there should be some of the juiciest, bloodiest veins around here somewhere. Steadily, taking her sweet time, she glided her fingertips over her inner thigh and gave it a firm squeeze.
Black eyes kept following them, unblinking. Harrow’s neck moved as she gulped, and she swiftly stepped forward without a single sound, forgetting about her loud, scary vampire performance. “Enough with your repugnant mockery. Get back to your job, or…”
“The only ‘job’ I’d be interested in is dragging your sorry ass into the sun at the first convenient moment to watch it get fried in real time.” Gideon smiled broadly at Harrow, who started stomping toward her, closing the distance. Despite her best efforts, the traitorous, involuntary cold bead of sweat crawled down her back.
A loud smack filled the surroundings, as if the thunder had suddenly struck in the middle of a quiet room, when the back of Harrow’s hand connected with Gideon’s face. The movement was so fast, Gideon’s eyes couldn’t even follow, and no matter how much she tried to brace for it, the slap made her head snap to the side. For the moment, she thought the whole world keeled over, as the flash of white exploded behind her eyes and a high-pitched ringing erupted in her right ear. A wave of heat and pain washed over her cheek, followed by the dull numbness.
“Do not ever dare to say anything like that again,” Harrow said, slowly, word by word, as they dripped with venom. “If someone less benevolent than me were to hear you speak ill of the Reverend Daughter, you would be half skinned and hooked up to life support, living out the rest of your life as dripping fodder.”
“Like I give a shit about your goofy title,” Gideon said, hoping her tone remained cold, and dragged her tongue over her teeth to make sure that they were all intact. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Smiling, she looked up and spat in Harrow’s face, watching the red blot land on her cheek. “Here’s your meal, benevolent one. Still warm.”
For a split second, Harrow’s pupils blew wide, swallowing the black of her irises, and her tongue darted out instinctively toward the splatter on her cheek.
But then, it stopped short of the spot. Her whole body froze, and an expression Gideon had never seen before enveloped her face. It wasn’t anger or disgust, but more like shock. So intense, it was paralyzing. Her eyes were wide, and upper lip trembled with an emotion Gideon couldn’t name. But it was the most honest and genuine expression Gideon had ever witnessed on this face. And it was gone in an instant, replaced by the deepest scowl Harrow could manage that seemed to carve the new lines in her face.
“You will regret this.” Her voice was low and seething. Frantically, she wiped her face with the back of her hand, as if it were burning, then turned on her heel and stormed out. The door slammed behind her, with another thunder crack through the room.
“See you tomorrow! Don’t forget to work up your appetite,” Gideon called after her as she laughed.
Now alone again, with the echo of the slammed door fading, the silence felt heavier than before. Gideon brought her hand up to her cheek and gently pressed her fingers against it. She winced as the sharp ache spread to her temple and jaw. “Fuck,” was the only word that escaped her lips. The minute of her entertainment was over and she had to return to her boredom and isolation, this time joined by quite a motherfucking headache.