A Hearty Meal

The blood dripped into his mouth.

Velena pressed her bleeding hand harder against his lips, her other hand cradling the back of his head. His hair was damp with sweat and blood, matted against her fingers. "Come on," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You can’t just die on me right now, you idiot!"

Nothing. His face was still slack. His breathing was still that faint, wet rasp.

"Please…" she said. She was crying now, the tears cutting tracks through the blood on her cheeks. Her blindfold had fallen off when the cathedral collapsed. Her eyes were exposed to the cool air of the corridor. She'd been too focused on Krähe to care. "Please…I didn't look for you for fourteen years so that you could bleed out on the floor of a magical labyrinth! You hear me?! You don't get to–"

His eyes slowly opened.

A pair of dark blue irises beneath half-closed lids, the lashes dark against his bloodless skin. Velena thought that he looked exactly like Orev without a mask on, but there was something darker behind them now. Hunger and instinct. The primal, unthinking drive of a predator who had been dying and had just been offered the salvation of food.

His nostrils flared. He could smell it- the blood, Velena’s blood, welling up from the cut on her palm and dripping onto his lips. The Key Tone resonating in every drop, ringing out across the silence where his used to be like a bell calling him home. His lips parted beneath her palm, and his tongue darted out to taste the wound she'd made in her own hand.

Velena flinched at the sudden sensation, but she tried to stay still. Krähe’s pupils dilated. His breath hitched in a sharp, desperate sound.

Then his hand came up and clamped around her wrist.

The grip was like iron. Velena gasped, her fingers instinctively curled back, but he held her fast. She didn't pull away. She'd been expecting this. Somewhere in the back of her mind, beneath the panic and the grief and the desperate, clawing hope, she'd known what would happen when she gave her blood to a dying vampire. He was too weak to ask and too far gone to be gentle. The hunger had taken over, and it didn't care about anything except for her blood and the sound of a bell inside it that was calling him back from the edge of death.

His fangs sank into her hand.

She felt the sharp, precise pierce of his fangs designed to feed. A gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it. It hurt. It hurt more than the cut had, a deep, throbbing ache that radiated up her wrist and into her arm. But beneath the pain came a pull full of resonance magic. She could feel her Key Tone flowing into him, carried by the blood, the bell inside her ringing out across the void where his used to be.

Drink, she thought, her jaw tight, her free hand still cradling the back of his head as she ruffled his hair. Take what you need. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.

His other hand came up and gripped her arm, fingers pressing into the fabric of her sleeve, holding her in place. His throat worked as he swallowed. Once. Twice. A third time. Each pull was stronger and more desperate than the last. The wound in his side was still seeping, but the bleeding was slowing now, jump-started by her blood and her Key Tone. The resonance that had been buried in him for fourteen years was finally stirring.

The seconds stretched. Velena's head started to feel light as she held onto him. The corridor was spinning, the golden light blurring at the edges of her vision. She'd already lost blood from the cut. Now he was taking more, drinking it straight from the source, his lips and tongue sealed against her palm. She should stop him, or even pull away…but she couldn't do it. He needed this as much as she needed him to stay alive.

"Okay…" she said, her voice shaky but still clinging to that thread of dry humor. "Great…That's- that's good…Take what you need- I've got plenty…I'm very healthy- I- I eat vegetables…Mostly…"

Krähe didn't answer. He just kept drinking, each swallow a visible effort that rippled through his throat. His eyes had fallen closed again, his lashes dark against his cheeks, his brow furrowed in something between pain and relief.

Her knees were starting to feel weak below his body even though they were both huddled on the floor. The bell inside her was still ringing, still resonating, but it was growing fainter now, the sound of it draining away along with her blood. She knew she was giving too much, but his breathing was steadying. The wound in his side was closing, the flesh knitting itself back together with an audible, wet sound. His grip on her arm was still hard like iron, but it was no longer the grip of a dying man.

"I-I'm going to pass out if you take much more-" she said, her voice taking on that conversational tone she used when she was trying very hard not to panic. "Just so you're aware- this is not a threat…Just a statement of fact…I'm very committed to whatever this vampire bit is…but my circulatory system has l-limits."

His grip loosened reluctantly.

Krähe was fighting against every instinct that was screaming at him to keep drinking, to take more, to drain her dry and let the blood sing him back to life. His fangs retracted from her palm. Velena felt the slow slide of them, the strange absence they left behind as his tongue slowly swept over the wound one last time. It felt like an apologetic gesture, gentle and deliberate, as if he was trying to close the punctures he'd made.

His hand was still around her wrist, but the iron grip had softened. His thumb pressed against her pulse point, feeling the beat of her heart, the rhythm of the blood he'd just consumed.

His eyes opened fully.

The irises were still too pale, the pupils still too dilated, but he looked completely at ease now compared to a few minutes ago. His gaze drifted across her face—the scarred eyes, the tear tracks, the blood smeared across her cheek—and settled on her.

"...I’m so sorry about that, Velena…"

His voice was a croak that was barely audible. It sounded more like what Orev would say, not like Krähe's performative lightness under the mask's distortion. It really was him.

But he still doesn’t remember anything.

"I'm here." She cupped his cheek with her free hand that wasn't still bleeding. Her thumb traced the edge of his face, the same area that had once hidden his full face. She was suddenly, acutely aware that he could see her eyes. Her real eyes. The grey irises he'd once called storm clouds. She turned away from his voice. "I came here to save you."

He stared at her for a moment. His tongue ran over his lips, tasting the blood that still lingered there, and something flickered in his expression- surprise, maybe, or even confusion. Then his brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to piece something together and couldn't quite find the edges.

"Your...your blindfold," he said. "It's gone."

"I know. It fell off when the cathedral collapsed." She didn't try to hide this time as she slowly turned back towards him. "You can see my eyes."

"Yes, I can see them perfectly..." His voice was still rough, but there was something almost reverent in it. "It’s still a very pretty shade of grey. Please don’t try to cover them. I quite like looking at it."

"I know. I also told you to stop looking at me."

"Hmm…" His thumb traced the edge of her jaw. "I don't think I ever could."

Velena's throat was tight. "You're...you're lying. Most people find it unsettling." She looked back on the memories of the maids or children whispering amongst themselves with her blindfold taken off.

"I’m just being honest."

"You’re a liar. I don’t care about what you say."

He chuckled. "You don’t care, hm? I doubt it. I almost died and woke up to find you crying over me." His eyes held hers. "You're still crying, by the way."

"I'm not crying. I'm just…relieved."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Okay, keep lying to yourself then."

"I've been told that by Maya as well. It's apparently one of my best qualities." She said sarcastically as she was still stroking his cheek with her thumb, and she realized only when he leaned into the touch just slightly.

"It’s one of your most exhausting qualities, to be honest."

"Those are the same list. I checked."

His hand was still around her wrist, but his grip was gentler now. His thumb pressed against her pulse point, feeling the steady beat beneath her skin. Then his fingers shifted, brushing over the wound on her palm, the one he'd made worse with his fangs, and his expression flickered with what might have been guilt.

"I hurt you, and for that…I’m really sorry…" he said.

"You were dying. I offered it willingly with my full consent."

"I drank your blood." His thumb traced the edge of the wound in a feather-light touch. "From your hand. Like some kind of...of..."

"Vampire?" she offered.

"That's the word. I was going to say 'complete disaster,' but 'vampire' works too."

"You're a vampire. Vampires as a species naturally drink blood to survive. I knew what I was getting into when I cut my palm open."

"You shouldn't have. You could have- I mean, I could have-"

"Killed me? Drained me dry? Left me like a desiccated husk on the floor of a magical labyrinth?" Velena shrugged, though the gesture was undercut by the tremor still running through her. "You didn't, and you stopped yourself before it would happen. I knew you would."

"You didn't know that." His voice was firmer now, almost accusatory.

"I had a very strong hunch. I'm an excellent judge of character."

"You're an excellent judge of terrible ideas."

"Also true. Multiple things can be true simultaneously. Velena's Theorem of Simultaneous Truths. I'm writing a paper on it." She smirked.

"Really now? I’m looking forward to it then." He was definitely sounding more like himself now.

She squeezed his hand, still cradled against her palm. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been shot. Twice, like with my own rifle." He paused, his thumb still moving in slow circles over her wound. "I already know what it feels like multiple times. I don’t need to know more."

"Your track record with your conduit is terrible."

"My track record with my beloved conduit is excellent! It’s my track record with spatial awareness that is the problem."

Velena almost laughed. She became aware, suddenly, of how close they were. His body was crouched over her, her hand on his cheek, his fingers wrapped around her wrist like he was afraid she might disappear. The golden light pulsed around them, soft and steady, and for a moment the chaos of the maze felt very far away.

She was now acutely aware that she was not pulling away for some unknown reason.

Then his tongue darted out again, sweeping over his lips, and his eyes met hers with mischief.

"Your blood," he said. "It tastes...good."

Velena felt her face go hot. She finally pulled her hand back. "That's a very weird thing to say!"

"It was a very weird situation, but it was unavoidable." He tilted his head, still watching her with that unreadable expression. "It's sweet with a hint of something else. Something I can't quite place. Like-"

"Please stop describing my blood like it's a wine tasting!" She pretended to busy herself with checking the wound on his side, avoiding his gaze.

"I'm a vampire. This is what we do. We taste blood, and then we describe it in unnecessarily poetic terms. It's a cultural tradition."

"It's creepy…"

"I disagree! I'm complimenting your blood. You should be flattered." He was definitely enjoying this now.

"Well, I'm not flattered at all! I'm actually mildly disturbed." She pressed her fingers against the edges of his wound, feeling the new skin that had already begun to form.

"This is new information I must file down." He paused, watching her examine him. "I might ask you for more blood later. Just so you're aware, it's for future reference."

Velena's fingers froze on his side. Her face was definitely red now. She could feel the heat spreading down her neck, and without her blindfold, she knew he could see every bit of it. "You can't just- you can't just ask someone for their blood! That's not- that's not a thing people do..."

"I'm not like you humans, I'm a vampire. We have different social rules." He was grinning. She could hear it in his voice.

"There are no social rules for this! This isn't covered in any etiquette book at all!"

"Then I'm inventing new rules. I shall call it Krähe's Theorem of Vampire Etiquette. I'm going to write a paper on it. See? I’m copying you." His hand found hers again, still resting on his side.

"You're not writing a paper on it! I’ll sue you for stealing my ideas!"

"I simply learned from the best. Who knows? I might even write your name in the credits~" His thumb brushed over her knuckles.

Velena opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. She was completely aware of his hand on hers, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin, and the way his eyes hadn't left her face since he'd woken up. "I'm starting to regret saving your life."

"No, you're not." He squeezed her hand. "You're just embarrassed because a vampire told you your blood tastes good, and since you're not wearing your blindfold, I can see you blushing at all times. It's a very normal reaction. I'm told it happens all the time."

"Who told you that?!"

"No one. It's just a quick assessment from my available data." He paused, and his grin widened. "The available data is you, blushing. With your very grey, very expressive eyes. It’s quite adorable.”

"I'm not blushing. I'm flushed from blood loss!"

"That's not a thing. I’m a doctor too, you know? I know the difference between when someone is blushing compared to when someone is losing blood."

"It's absolutely a thing! Studies show that once a person’s flushed from blood loss, their physical appearance can come back from completely being pale to–"

"Your excuses are so amusing!" he burst out in laughter.

"Shut it!" She pulled her hand back and reached for her blindfold, but it was somewhere on the floor, lost in the chaos. She now had nothing to cover her blurred vision at all.

He laughed. It came out in a weak, pained sound, but it was still a real laugh. The same laugh she'd heard in the dueling arena, in the faculty lounge, in a hundred moments when he'd let the mask slip just enough to show her the real person underneath.

"Your blood," he said again, softer now, the teasing tone fading. "It felt...familiar. Like something I didn't know I was missing." His eyes searched her face, suddenly serious. "Does that make any sense to you?"

Velena's throat was tight. She didn't look away, even though every instinct was screaming at her to hide her eyes. "More than you know."

"The dreams I had…While I was out…" He pushed himself up onto his elbows, wincing at the movement. "They were in small fragments. I saw a bridge…and maybe even a bakery…I've been dreaming about those things for years. I never knew what they meant. But just now, they felt closer. Like I could almost..." He trailed off, frustration flickering across his features. His hand clenched against the stone. "But they're gone now. Every time I try to hold onto them, they just…slip away."

Velena's heart clenched. She reached out and gently placed her hand over his. "It's all right. You don't have to remember everything right now. You just have to stay alive."

"But they felt important..." He turned his hand over, lacing his fingers through hers. "You…You know what they mean, don't you? You've known all along…"

Velena hesitated. She could feel the weight of the words pressing against her teeth- Your true name is Orev Doure. I've been searching for you for fourteen years. But the memories weren't his, not yet. Elanor had taken them, and the turning had silenced them.

The vampire before her was someone completely different from the human child she used to know.

"I know more about you than you think," she said quietly. "More than I've let on and…more than I've been willing to say." She squeezed his hand. "But some stories aren't mine to tell. Some truths have to be remembered, not received. And when you're ready- or when you're strong enough…I'll help you find them. I promise."

He studied her for a long moment, his dark blue eyes searching her face. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"I'd expect nothing less."

"And the thing about your blood-" The teasing edge crept back into his voice. "That wasn't a joke. I really might ask you again."

"Krähe- we now have other alternatives. You should stop that at once!" She pulled her hand back and began checking the medical case again, trying the latch.

"Aww…but it's a serious medical request…It’s for my health! Please save me again!" He watched her fuss with the case, clearly enjoying himself.

"The state needs to revoke your doctor's license immediately! Your health is fine. You're healing already." She shook the latch. It was still locked.

"Healing takes energy, and energy for us vampires requires blood. Your blood is very energizing." He pushed himself up further, wincing as he did.

"It's an invasion of my personal space!" She gave up on the case and turned back to him.

"Your personal space has already been thoroughly invaded, though? You brought this upon yourself after you gave your consent to a vampire. We’re completely past that now; the two of us are now in a post-personal-space paradigm."

"I liked you better when you were unconscious."

"No, you didn't! You were crying." His voice was gentler now. "I could see your eyes completely. You never hide when you think no one's watching."

Velena swallowed hard. "You were watching me while you were unconscious?! I’m gonna barf-"

"I was dimly aware of my surroundings. I could hear your voice and even feel your hand on my face." He reached up and touched her cheek, his fingers cool against her skin. "You called me Orev again."

She went still as a rock. She could not reply.

"I still don't know who that is," he said quietly. "The name doesn't feel familiar, but the way you said it-" He paused. "It sounded like a prayer. You've been waiting for this person for a very long time, haven't you?"

"I have been." Her voice was barely a whisper. "For fourteen years."

"But you won't tell me why."

"Because it's not my story to tell…"

He was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. "Okay. I trust you."

"Just like that?"

"You saved my life and gave me your blood. You've been crying over me for-" He paused. "How long was I out?"

"I don't know. Time is fake in the maze."

"You've been crying over me for a fake amount of time. It felt pretty long to me."

"I was annoyed that you were dying. It would be very inconvenient if you did die in front of me." She shrugged.

"Your annoyance looks a lot like concern."

"Your face looks a lot like it needs to stop talking and to start healing."

"My face is healing beautifully. The mask took most of the damage." He touched the cracked beak that fell beside him. "I'm going to need a new one. This one's ruined."

"Never put that on again. It’s ridiculous."

"It made me look mysterious. Isn’t that cool?"

"It was a beak."

"Beaks are mysterious. Ask any bird."

"I don't know any birds. They can’t even speak."

"But you can understand Siegfried just fine? That's a failure of your social circle. You should meet more birds."

The ground shook.

The walls around them trembled, and the golden light flickered wildly. Dust rained down from the ceiling from the cathedral above them.

"What was that?!" Krähe asked, his hand tightening on hers.

"I don't know! But I don't think it's good." Velena grabbed her cane and pushed herself to her feet.

The ground shook even harder this time. From somewhere in the distance, she heard the sound of stone cracking, of magic colliding with magic, and of voices shouting in alarm.

"The Vault!" she said. "Something's happening to the Vault."

"Can you hear it changing or something?" He was already trying to stand, one hand pressed against his wounded side.

"I can hear almost everything. It's very annoying." She swept her cane ahead of her, mapping the corridor. "Can you walk? I need to get back to the others. If the Vault is destabilizing-"

"If the Vault destabilizes, the whole university goes with it. I know. That masked freak told me." Krähe gritted his teeth and forced himself upright. His legs wobbled as his side screamed in pain. But he stayed standing. "I'm not going to be much help in a fight."

"Then don't fight. Just stay behind me and try not to bleed out on me." She held out her hand.

"That's your plan? 'Try not to bleed out'?"

"It's a work in progress! I'm open to suggestions."

"We should find the others, then secure the Vault. We need to stop whoever's trying to take it." He took her hand, his grip weak but steady. "And maybe get me some bandages…eventually?"

"I'll add it to the list." She adjusted her grip, pulling his arm over her shoulders to steady him. "Can you walk?"

"I can stumble with purpose."

"Good enough."

He leaned on her as they started down the corridor. His weight was considerable, but she'd trained for worse. As they walked, he tilted his head toward her, his voice low.

"For the record," he said, "when this is over- or when we're not in mortal danger- I'm definitely asking you for more blood."

"Krähe!"

"I'm going to write a formal request. With citations included, just for you, Velena."

"I'm seriously going to hit you with my cane!"

"That's fair. I'll include that in the risk assessment. Section four: Potential Consequences. Subsection A: Blunt Force Trauma from an irritated Professor."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

She was quiet for a moment, her cane tapping against the stone, his arm warm around her shoulders. "Fine," she admitted. "You win! Just…don’t die on me, got it?!"

“Haha! I’ll remember that then!”

And together, they stumbled toward the sound of chaos.