“Again, I felt the images of my life passing with the blood. I felt the sorrow I knew, the untold sorrow of being lost forever from Mona, from my son, Jerome, from Aunt Queen, from Nash, from Jasmine, my beloved milk chocolate Jasmine, from my beloved little Tommy, I felt all of this passing from me with the blood, but not leaving me forever, only revealed, opened like a fierce and terrible wound in me—You have died, Quinn—and I felt Arion taking it into himself as if he would relieve me, and a swoon of weakness came over me.

“I awoke seated in a chair, and for a moment the pain was more than I could bear. It was so terrible that it seemed the thing to do was to go to the railing and throw myself down on the rocks there to be smashed and truly dead. But I wondered, and wisely so, would such a thing accomplish death for me?

“Then pure hunger consumed me. I had never hungered so much, and blood was my only desire. I wanted Arion’s blood. I wanted Petronia’s blood. I stared at Manfred, as he peered keenly back at me.

“ ‘And so for our lessons,’ said Arion. He stretched out his arms to me. ‘Now, come, and to my throat, and take from me the Little Drink, only one fraction of what you want, and spill nothing when you do it. You learn to do the Little Drink, and you can feed from the innocent. You can feed from them gently without biting off a soul. You can leave them only dazed after your kiss.’

“I went directly to obey. The blood was so thick! And there again, the flash of sunny Athens! It was an agony, but I drew back at the appropriate moment as he had directed me, and with my tongue I lapped the few drops that threatened the whiteness of his satin shirt. He held me until I was steady on my feet, and then, covering my lips with his, he kissed me. He slipped his tongue into my mouth. He forced it up against my fang teeth. The blood came again. I reeled. I danced backwards.

“ ‘What is my life to be now?’ I whispered, after he’d withdrawn. ‘Ecstasy?’

“ ‘Ecstasy and control,’ he said to me softly. ‘Now drink from Manfred in the same way. Call your son to you, Manfred.’

“The Old Man stretched out his arms.

“I went to him.

“ ‘Come, child of my house, child of my legacy,’ he said in his deep voice. ‘Beloved child of my heritage. Drink from me the blood. It was Petronia in her wickedness who built Blackwood Manor with her gold, her miserable gold. I give you my love, luckless boy! I give you my blood. Take from me the image of the only pure thing I ever loved!’

“ ‘Short, and neat,’ said Petronia near to me.