For Rans, though, it was too late to worry about such things. He was already bound to a demon. He had been for centuries. No one could un-ring that bell. Hell was not a prison for him, any more than it was for me. Not physically, anyway.
“If we could begin, now that everyone is here,” Nigellus said, before sitting down again.
What followed was nearly five hours of discussion, during which the titheling elders were informed of what, exactly, was in the blood wine they’d been consuming, and why it was important. It still broke my heart that the humans’ reaction to the revelation that they might someday be expected to go forth and battle the Fae on Earth was basically, ‘oh, yeah, cool—we can see where that might be necessary at some point.’
The villagers were such a bunch of sweet old hippies in so many respects... but in the end, they still belonged to the same species that had decided nuclear bombs and chemical weapons were both great ideas that should totally happen. I’d caught glimpses during my time here of their ingrained hatred for the Fae, who’d stolen them from their families on Earth and bartered them as chattel to their adversaries. But I hadn’t fully appreciated the ramifications of that hatred until quite recently.
In the tithelings’ minds, Fae were ‘the Enemy’ with a capital E, and demons were their generous benefactors who provided everything they needed and asked nothing in return. The concept of vampires was as foreign to the elders as it had been to Sharalynn, but if I’d expected them to be horrified by the idea, I was in for a shock.
“So, we would become stronger and gain magical powers like flight?” Fatima asked. “And our blood would have the same healing and restorative powers as the blood wine, only more concentrated?”
Next to me, Rans looked like someone who’d expected this discussion to go exactly the way that it had.
“Well, yes,” I said. “But that’s not really—” I trailed off. Not really what? The point?
“You’ve already said that you don’t need to harm people in order to feed from them, correct?” asked one of the elders whom I did not know well. “If the Earth is populated with vast numbers of humans, then there would seem to be no reason why the existence of a few hundred more vampires would pose a problem.”
“You’d all have to be bound to demons before you could go there, though,” I pointed out.
“As you are bound?” the elder prodded. “As Nigellus’ servant Edward is bound? Has such a bond not saved all of your lives at some point?”
“Several times, yes,” Edward said quietly.
“Not all demons are like Nigellus,” Rans said tightly.
Fatima raised an eyebrow. “We have lived with the demons for a very long time, Ransley Thorpe. Do you consider us children, incapable of judging character or making choices for ourselves?”
Rans looked very pointedly at Nigellus. “That depends. Would the tithelings retain free will regarding their choices to be turned or not to be turned? To be bound, or not to be bound... and to whom?”
“Of course they would,” Nigellus said easily.
Rans’ eyes swept over the other demons present. “And the Council agrees with this?” he pressed.
Baalazar frowned. “Free will and the ability to enter into contracts lies at the heart of demon society. Which is more than can be said for our enemies, who prefer to manipulate and coerce.”
“And what about Myrial?” I asked boldly.
The imp’s expression soured. “Myrial utilized free will in an attempt to shift the balance of power across the three realms,” Baalazar said. “Doing so had consequences. Those consequences will continue to ripple throughout Hell for some time. But Myrial’s actions do not impact the ability of the tithelings to choose their own futures.”
Maybe I was finally growing into my demon heritage, because I heard the unspoken subtext. The demons were legitimately unconcerned about allowing the tithelings to choose, because they were confident that with the right encouragement, most of them would choose to go fight the enemy they hated.
“All of this is quite theoretical at the present moment,” Nigellus said.
He looked somewhat out of place amongst his demonic brethren, wearing his striking human guise. I wondered if the illusion was for our benefit.
“Is it, though?” Rans asked tersely.
Nigellus raised an eyebrow. “It is. The Fae Court is in no more of a hurry to restart the war than the Council of Hell. Why would they be, when they have all they want of the spoils from the last clash?”
Several of the other demons shot him disgruntled looks, and I got the impression he touched on something of a sore point regarding the outcome of the conflict they preferred to describe as a ‘messy draw.’ Still, none of them disputed the assertion outright.
“You have the Council’s word that we have no intention of raising a new vampire race during peacetime,” Nigellus continued. “Furthermore, you have my personal guarantee that our position on the matter will not change without first consulting all parties involved.”
“I would expect nothing less,” said Li Wei, who’d been largely quiet during the discussion.
“We will, however, still require vampire blood on a regular basis, in amounts sufficient to imbue the tithelings’ wine with its magical properties,” Baalazar added implacably.
Rans grew tense beside me. “I gave my word long ago to allow Nigellus to harvest my blood as he saw fit... in exchange for services rendered.” His eyes cut to the demon of fate. “Or so I am informed.”
“You can have my blood, too,” I blurted, thinking of Sharalynn asking for more years with the man she loved. “But in return, you have to promise not to bother Guthrie Leonides. He’s an innocent bystander to all of this.”
“An innocent bystander who sold his soul to a demon,” Nigellus pointed out mildly. “But I
