I've never struggled so hard to force out that barely whispered thank you, but I owe him.
I'm alive because of him.
That night, nine days ago—when that hooded Monster Reaper ambushed me—I was saved by mysterious purple energy beams that came out of nowhere. They let me escape unharmed; only now do I know what they were: the work of a man named Oliver Segel.
He's from N'Raeth too, obviously, but unlike John and Frank, he isn't a demon. He's something else… I think John called him a dark emissary—a kind of fallen angel, or whatever. Not exactly the friendly type.
He and Frank Callhan—the musclehead who was with me that night—are John's most loyal, and also his strongest, henchmen. Yeah, it's weird—Frank's so strong and so dumb he's basically unstoppable.
Still, calling him a coward was unfair. When he ran, he ran to call for backup.
I can't help thinking about the question I'd thrown at him before the chaos:
«What's in it for me if I join you guys?»
Actions speak louder than words; even if Frank only knows about three words, his actions answered mine.
So what do I get if I join them? First and foremost: staying alive—which, yeah, is kind of a big deal. Especially after what John told me about what happened in that alley after I escaped.
«That Monster Reaper hunting you isn't just some rookie,» John said. «Trust me. Oliver's insanely powerful, strong enough to go toe-to-toe with almost any of them. And yet that Reaper got away with just a leg wound—but not before putting Oliver in serious trouble. At this point, it's clear you can't go wandering around the outskirts of New York looking for food without someone big covering your back… someone like me.»
Shit. As much as it pisses me off to admit it, that bastard is right.
At this point, there are only two options.
Give in to his pressure and step into a world that's clearly dangerous—maybe even beyond what I can handle—but with the certainty that someone will always have my back.
Or change hunting grounds and method, maybe move to another city or a remote little town lost in the middle of nowhere.
But if I did that, I'd have to give up the last sliver of humanity I have left. The part of me that forces me to kill only the scum of society—criminals, violent people who are better off dead, and who are dead thanks to me.
In smaller towns or isolated settlements, the amount of scum might not be enough to satisfy my thirst. And killing innocents is the last thing I ever want to do.
But if I joined him, I'd become just another criminal myself.
«It's a tempting offer, believe me, but I can't accept it. Still, I'm grateful you saved my life, and I'll make sure you won't have to do it again,» I reply, struggling to say the words—almost afraid—while he stares at me with those icy eyes.
I take a sip of human blood from a flask John kindly offered me—the very thing that convinced me to sit back at the negotiating table.
I won't lie—if I were alone, I probably would've said yes. But I'm not alone. I have Isabelle.
Getting involved in the criminal underworld would immediately put the people I care about at risk. They're always the first to get hit when a gang war breaks out, and I would never do anything that could put them in danger. The same goes for Elaine—if anything ever happened to them because of me, I'd never forgive myself.
«Alright, Ren Lazar. As you wish,» John murmurs, his voice far too agreeable for someone like him—someone who's always gotten what he wanted, by hook or by crook.
Now that I think about it, John and I are actually quite similar in that way. He gets what he wants in business; I do it with women.
I probably represent to him what Brianne Leviantis represents to me—a personal challenge, a test against the one person in the world who managed to resist us.
With henchmen like Frank Callhan, Oliver Segel, and who knows how many other powerful beings under his command, a weak and inexperienced vampire like me clearly isn't much of an asset to his organization.
But recruiting me would be another show of strength—a way to prove to himself, and to his people, that no one in this world can say no to him.
«No one can resist me»—that's the real message behind it all.
I just hope I never have to stoop so low as to give him that satisfaction.