I knew that Paul Jr. would be the easiest way in for me. I had some notion that he had a crush, so when I came knocking in the dead of night, it served his fantasies to let me come inside.
And he did.
He let me into his family’s home, into their place of safety, which I promptly took from them.
But first I took Paul. It was of no wrongdoing to him, the way that his father’s attempts had been to me, but I knew it would still offend his Biblical sensibilities to give in, for as long as his Biblical sensibilities were still intact. But they faded quickly, under my hands, and then I whispered the words and my daggers sunk in.
I still didn’t know what they meant then, but I found that I could recite the same words Haydn had recited over me instinctively. Then I drank until death was closing in on Paul. I could feel it as surely as I could feel his desire, and then, when I knew that he was almost gone, I pulled my daggers out and I kissed him. And the energy transmitted back and forth between us. And I felt him grow strong out of me.
Then, he looked up at me, and he was someone else, something else, and I knew that he would follow me as I had longed to follow Haydn. To have such a willing servant, it was powerfully intoxicating.
“Let’s go find your family,” I said to him and he smiled, his lips still smeared with his blood.