I Like Havin’ a Choice
The corners of Gloriach’s mouth twitched, “Nay. But who knows, it might be nice havin a choice of what you eat every night instead of the same old thing. The taste of iron can get a bit…well… you know…boring.”
With eyes fully dilated, there wasn’t much that escaped Spiders sight; including the tension in the reaver’s body, eyes, and corn row of ridge lines across its brow. Again, the damphir sensed something was out of place, but couldn’t think what. Reaver’s didn’t just kill their masters, nor did they invite themselves into a group of life long enemies, unless of course they had a death wish. No, if this over-sized killer was…
Suddenly he saw what had been bothering him since he’d woken up; the collar the Rodanians used to enthrall and control their vamperic killers was missing from this one. In all his years fighting the sorcerer’s and their artillery of flesh, he’d never heard of a reaver getting free. Enslaved at birth, reavers were raised with one purpose in life; to serve their captors in whatever capacity they choose. Some were used as household slaves, others in the underground mines and tunnels (where the Bird-man claimed were hidden caverns full of experimental labs used to hide vampire egg-sacs waiting to be fertilized and grown-experimentation chambers that made the histories look like story book rhythms), and the rest, like this one; shields and enforcers for a very powerful tribe of blind Rodanian magic user’s.
Careful not to relax his guard, Spider adjusted his grip on the stilettos held in either hand, “Where’s your collar?” he demanded. Across the room he felt Wrench’s intake of breath as the young damphir took notice as well.
Gloriach had no intentions of sharing his recent discovers with anyone, at least not yet. But he also knew that if he didn’t convince the damphir that this wasn’t a double cross, it would be only a matter of minutes before they were all dead. Even now he could sense other reavers starting to circle the building, as word reached the hive that two journeyman sorcerers were dead.
“Vampires, real vampires, didn’t nibble on the necks of nubile young virgins. They tore people to pieces and sucked the blood out of the chunks. ” ― David Wellington, 99 Coffins: A Historical Vampire Tale
Working to keep his motions as none threatening as a three-hundred pound reaver could, Gloriach eased his shoulders slightly forward. Trying to keep his voice free of fear without losing the sense of urgency he needed to impart said, “I was feeling a little too restricted, so I took it off.” With a slight huff he cleared some of the dust out of his throat, then added, “Look, I know it’s not every day you guys get propositioned by a reaver, but let me assure you, if I’d had the luxury of courting you, I’d a done it. As it is, this whole relationship thing is going as fast for me as it is for you. But if we don’t move, and I mean move now, we won’t need to worry about a second date.” (c)
Copyright: The Remnant; SSpjut;Shawn Y. Spjut; Shawn Y. Gooding; 2012