A part of Slade was tempted to stay there on that distant rooftop all night watching Eli and his girlfriend make love; she hated herself enough to witness it all.

But what was the point?

Just moments ago, she'd awoken in that bedroom with no recollection of how she'd gotten there and no feeling beyond guilt and regret. It was her choice to leave despite Eli's semi-coherent pleas for her to stay. It had also been her choice to use Eli's phone and text his girlfriend to come there to take care of him. They'd gotten drunk and made a mistake—a dumb mistake.

Werewolf men deserved werewolf women.

Leave the wolves be. Just go home, a voice in Slade's head said. This might be the only thing you've ever done right. He's a distraction. You have bigger responsibilities. Remember that.

"Shut. Up."

Letting out a sigh, she turned and made her way to the fire escape. She had to get home before morning.

A taxi zipped past, flashing a bumper sticker of a red X over an exaggerated image of a vampire.

"Ha. Jokes on you, asshole. Ain't got no money for a cab so you wouldn't have to refuse me anyway." Slade squinted as she memorized the plate number. "Giving you a nice service review, you prick."

Night and day; the city never slept. It hadn't in the Time of Man either, though they pretended it did. Now, at dusk, her time, the faint chill of autumn hung on the breeze. That was meaningless but the rough cobblestones under her feet told her just how old and worn these boots were. She was still unaccustomed to poverty—ten years in.

By the time she reached the bus station, she'd written a dissertation on her phone reviewing that crummy cab driver. "And he even touched my beard. I was very hurt." She deleted the last word and kept on, "I was very offended. Sincerely yours.... Very offended dwarf."

The bus door opened, and she stepped back.

"Vamp routes are through for the night, Miss," the driver called. "Try again after the sun's come up."

He drove off and the fading taillights shrunk into the night.

"At least you called me Miss."

Never mind the taunt. When the sun's come up. It hurt. Being reminded that even glancing in the sun's general direction hurt. But Eli'd been good enough to campaign against forcing the day buses on vamps.

How she regretted never being able to see it again—feel its rays. When the humans still roamed the earth, their blood offered many advantages, the one disadvantage being a vulnerability to the sun. Now, ten years on without a single human alive, and no human blood, vampires didn't have that worry.

The sun was no longer deadly—it just hurt. A lot.

What a pathetic liar. He just didn't want to take you.

Slade waved a hand to dismiss the voice. It came stronger each day.

You can't ignore me. Not forever.

Maybe not but Slade intended to try. "Watch me, bitch."

As the sun wouldn't be up for some hours yet, she took some comfort in knowing that after a few more years without human blood, she'd be able to withstand being outside yet again.

When she had become a vampire, this place was a mere city. And now...now it was a sight.

A world without humans....

She scoffed. Because it was beautiful without them.

The land was green, waste management was almost nil, vehicles fueled by magic had no exhaust, and the woods were safe.

All children of the Runes rejoiced daily in their good fortune. All but the ones who needed the humans more than they'd realized—the vampires. Her kind.

Without human blood, a vampire was no vampire—she was something else. She was the undead. True in all forms.

At one time, her kind ruled. Now....

The dirty glances her way as she passed two dwarfs, who scurried to give her room, was enough. It didn't bother her the first time; now, she couldn't stand it.

Catching the bus was a must so she waited farther away until the other Rune-kind loaded on.

The goblins were the last. Slade feared rejection here, too, but she didn't have much of a choice. At this weakened state, if she legged it, she'd arrive home by morning.

Remembering her manners, she didn't make eye contact with the minotaur driver, only bowed her head.

"Is there room, sir?"

For a long while, she received no answer. This was a trick, and she wouldn't fall for it.

"Suppose you can get a ride as far as the fields," the creature said with a snort. "But not farther."

Slade bowed her head and stepped on. Without looking up, she fished through the pockets of her dress and pulled out two teeth.

"Oi. Where yu get dem?" the driver asked.

Swallowing hard, Slade spoke into her chest. "Just rabbits."

A snort sounded the driver's amusement, and she dropped them into the grinder for payment.

"Nice." In one swing, the door closed. An announcement followed. "Vampire on board. Everyone head to the back."

As small as the remaining free space was, all passengers gave Slade a wide berth. She made the mistake of focusing on a pair of shoes to her right. When she looked up to meet the young fawn's curious gaze, she found terror.

The little girl's mother hurried to cover the child's eyes. "Don't look! They hypnotize you."

With that, the child cried. Slade recoiled. She would have taken a seat if not for the risk of it being seen as a sign of disrespect.

She'd earned this—her and her kind. Twenty years ago, vampires ruled the entire earth. Nothing moved without their say so. No one even pissed.

But without humans—without human blood, there was also no power. And overnight, Vampires went from the top of the food-chain, to the very bottom. And the children of Runes had long memories.

At the next stop, a centaur hurried to catch up. He carried his exhausted offspring in his arms.

"Any chance he could ride with you a ways, Frin? He's been running all day," the centaur said.

Slade stopped looking, but the whispers reached her.

"Got a vampire on board. Best try 'nother bus, Mew."

Letting out an audible gasp, the creature galloped on.

The bus couldn't reach the fields fast enough. Slade hopped off.

She was sure to turn and bow to the minotaur yet again. "I really appreciate the ride."

The driver made a face. "You cost me a lot of good fares."

He was hinting but this was hardly a new practice—making her pay twice. She'd wondered if that was his original intent. Others paid a tenth of what she gave.

"I haven't got no more rabbit teeth," she lied.

Kissing his own teeth, the driver shut the door and drove off, calling out, "Won't be wasting the time on da next one. Ya hear?"

Slade watched it go. Ten years ago, hell, five years ago, she would have run up beside it and tipped that contraption over. She'd done similar enough in her lifetime.

But now...now she was just lucky to have met a driver greedy enough to give her a lift.

His judgement was harsh, but it was with good reason. The first reason showed itself when she saw the half-naked skeletal-thin ghoul wandering the road.

Slade hurried to retrieve her. "Auntie. Come. You shouldn't be out in the cold."

"I'm hungry," the woman moaned, her sunken in eyes perpetually wide. "I'm so hungry."

"I know, darling. I know." Slade couldn't hold her too tightly because although it was impossible for a vampire to die now, an injury wasn't hard. And it would be an injury that'd never heal. The skin was so thin that she feared bruising it.

"Come, Auntie. How about some rabbit? Slade's got plenty. Won't take long to get you some."

Eyes unseeing, mouth unclosing, the starved vampire lamented, "I'm hungry. So hungry—But that's what she said last time. I didn't say any of that—Yes, you did! You certainly did."

This was the part Slade dreaded most of all. The madness. And she dreaded it because hers had begun.

Suppose it won't be long now. You reckon we'll still keep our breasts once we get that thin?

"Shut up," Slade commanded. It was a chore getting the ailing vampire back to the barn, but it was either make the effort or leave her to perhaps fall.

No one had understood the repercussions of a world without man right away. In two years time, nearly all vampires' powers had been cut in half. In four more years, the madness showed itself. Now, this year, vampires wandered.... Hungry ghosts with no end.

The barn wasn't far from the road and Slade hesitated to approach. She had to, though. She had to put this poor creature back.

The barn door gaped ajar.

Slade swallowed hard and pushed it open. A chorus of groans filled the air.

"Hungry. I'm hungry."

"Hungry."

"I'm so hungry."

By far the worst were the ones lying close to the door. Once prominent vampires ambushed and beaten merciless now lay there, groaning and whimpering. Unhealing.

And it never ended.

It would never end.

Never.

"Oh, you got one," a voice said.

Slade turned to greet her former servant. There wasn't much authority left around, but she tried to use some when she said, "You were tasked with keeping them out of sight. If others saw—"

"Yes, yes. I understand." Margarite cradled her bible and tiptoed around her. The bandage on her right arm came loose and she tucked it back into its knot again. "We were just about to have a prayer. Would you like to join, Sovereign?"

Sovereign. The title made Slade sick.

"You waste your time, Marg," Slade assured her. "The god of man died with the last man. He is not listening."

Margarite was a nice enough familiar—a hybrid between vampire and witch, one of the very few still around. As such, her deterioration was slow, but as the gods of her parents greatly resembled, there was no forgiveness from the damned.

"Witch and vampire alike, we started as human," Margarite reminded her. "That is our base. That is the base of all from our kind."

"Our kind?" Slade scoffed. "Tell that to your mother."

Margarite flinched. It was a crude thing to say but Slade needed her level-headed, not dreaming of forgiveness and mercy from a dead god long forgotten.

"Take that back," Margarite demanded. "You take that back or we are no longer friends."

Slade scanned the horde of withering people, some crawling, others going so far as to gnaw at their own arms and legs in search of blood.

"There's no need for friendship at a time like this," Slade answered. "The same way your mother was burned by her own kind for having you, is the same way you will be burned by the witches should they find you. And if you're lucky, you will die. If not, you'll come here with the rest. Skin charred, never finding comfort or rest. This isn't the time for daydreams."

Posture stiff, Margarite held her bible to her chest. There was still fight left in her but not much.

"Take it back," she begged.

Go on and take it back, you heartless bitch. At least give her that much.

But Slade couldn't. Instead she turned and made her way to the door.

"I forgive you," Margarite yelled.

A glance back showed her still focused on the floor.

"You don't know any better." Her pink lips trembled with each breath she dragged through her slight frame. "You and your kind don't know any better. I forgive you."

Unmoved, Slade replied, "I have as much use for your forgiveness as I have for these fangs in my mouth."

A bleeding heart wasn't why Margarite remained in the barn. Slade debated confronting Margarite about whatever child the woman hid herself away and had here.

Hybrids like her couldn't always have children. And as all vampires were turned from humans, the bandage on Margarite's arm, no doubt hiding a bite, meant this child was something else. It was also a distraction. All the better that the wound wasn't from an attack from one of these starved vampires.

Slade focused on the dirt on the ground before she slipped out and latched the doors.

It was her turn soon. She hated being this harsh but vampires were harsh. The softer she acted, the less people trusted her. All vampires got soft when they went mad. Every day she could feel it stronger, an itching in the back of her skull, a hunger unsated...and the voice.

No one'd seen these vamps till now, not even Eli.

Things had gotten so bad in the beginning of the year that several decided to euthanize these ones. But a stake through the heart now...only remained there, causing agony.

No one knew why. Slade was tempted to spend another batch of rabbit teeth to hire yet another soothsayer. But they were useless. Vampires couldn't risk letting non-vamps find out just how bad it was. People still feared them. This would give them a very valid reason to—it would cause panic and confusion.

She closed in on the neatly arranged row of trailers. For this, she was proud. If not for the dilapidated state of the vehicles, the windows boarded up, and paint peeling, it'd look nice. Not as nice as her former mansion but...nice. They kept them clean otherwise.

At this time of night, people should have been shuffling out. When someone rushed past and waved a warning, Slade slowed in her stride.

Door after door slammed shut. That meant one thing: tax collectors.

"Damn." Slade took to her feet, racing with all her might. She headed to the only safe haven—the only real structure, not on wheels, anyway. The club.

It was a long way to the club and she was already low on power. Once she reached the double doors, she shoved them open and they banged against the wall.

"Tax collectors!" Slade warned. "How much iron we got?"

She froze at the sight of the fluttering wings. The plump Fae attached to them rotated to face her.

"Pardon?"

Hands trembling, Slade fought to smile. Her expression shifted from fear to sick amusement and back again.

"Marrow—Mr. Marrow. How are you? T'was just a joke, you see. I try to be as funny as you. How'd I do?"

A plump red face glistened as Marrow raised his fancy cane. "Oh. A joke. You really shouldn't waste the brain cells, Slade. Really. Come inside, come in. We're nearly done with business."

"Business?" Slade slowed in her approach. "But I've got the teeth you need. What sort of business you got?" At the raised eyebrow, she gritted her teeth and said, "Sir?"

"Just a sale," Marrow said.

Fairies weren't all that big. Not to the untrained eye. To vampires, though, the only ones immune to the glow of the Fae, this fairy was a good five-foot-nine. He carried a black cane with a golden top—for show. Because the damn things flew.

The one standing behind him was no less than six-foot-two. And then the one after that.

The third fairy's posture confused Slade; the woman was hunched over, her dress hiked up.

Slade's stomach dropped when she caught sight of Manny, kneeling with his head under said dress.

She took a step forward, but Marrow floated before her. "Now, now, it was a fair transaction."

Fair.

"Sir...he's not right in the head. Letting him feed...feed off a Fae. That's...there are laws against it for a reason."

Marrow floated forward, insulted. "And who wouldn't want our blood? You lot should be lucky for the offer."

Such generosity wasn't common among the Fae. The woman's moan made quite a few things clear.

Marrow met Slade's gaze and grinned. "Getting it close enough to the loins is the most effective way."

Mouth tasting stale, Slade tried to counteract her own scowl. "Thank you, sir. But I'd rather you let him up."

"No," the woman gasped. "I'm almost—ow." She looked behind her and her wings started to flap. "Ow. Get him off. Get him off!"

Marrow fluttered to her, cane raised.

Slade hurried to intercept them. "No. No, that's dangerous," she lied. "Let us—let one of us do it. We can get him off."

"Ow. Remove it. Get it off me." As much as the woman fluttered those wings, Manny anchored her.

Marrow looked from his ailing colleague to Slade. "Do it. And be fast about it."

Slade wanted to refuse. This wasn't how she wanted to see her older brother. But there was no one else she could trust, so it was only her.

She lifted the black dress.

Just as Slade suspected. Manny, eyes closed, teeth biting into the fairy's pale right buttocks, refused to let go.

"Hey," Slade said, crouching down to meet him. "I'm back. You missed me?"

Two gray eyes opened to regard her. Manny smiled and opened his mouth in greeting. Once the fairy took the chance to scramble away, he lumbered to his feet.

"Sofie!" Manny towered over her. He extended his arms but paused and gnashed at the air. "Of course it's Sofie. Sofie!"

The giggles of the fairy didn't usually bother Slade, but today they hurt for other reasons.

"Hey, Manny. Did you miss me?"

Manny's sunken in features took on some color thanks to the fairy blood. It wouldn't last, though. And that wasn't the problem...the addiction it brought was.

"Oh, would you look," the woman complained. "He left a big mark."

Marrow floated toward her. "Well, how was it otherwise?"

Blonde hair and green eyes aglow, the woman agreed, "Yes. It was rather enticing."

Slade blinked, intentionally letting the fairy's glow dull from her perspective. A fairy's glow wasn't only about sight. The dust they shed had the power of...persuasion. It masked their looks, their height, everything. Even their rank smell. The straggly rodent-like creatures before her fit their demeanor rather perfectly. Most vampires were glad to allow the dust to do its job, but in the last ten years, Slade no longer cared about illusions. Their reality was quite real and quite grim.

"I take it you have our payment?" Marrow fluttered to her. "Yes?"

A giant rat. A giant flying rat. That was what Slade saw, and it was the only reason she willed herself not to lop off its head.

"Yes, sir," Slade chimed. "Right in the back room. We've even taken the liberty of crushing it down. Finest rabbits' teeth around. All prime."

The three fairies converged, giddy with anticipation.

"Are you sure?" Marrow asked. "I'd remind you of the law—"

"Honest. Here, I've even got a few right here with me." Slade fished through her pockets for what was left. Two teeth. She'd wanted to keep these ones.

When she met Marrow's smug look, she relented and handed the two teeth over.

"Here. This is a sample."

Marrow's companions zipped close, nearly salivating.

At first about to rub his hands together to crush the teeth on his own, Marrow paused and cut Slade a glance.

"Would you do the honors...Sovereign?"

That word immobilized Slade for a long while.

Speak! Speak you fool or it's our hides. Speak. Think of your brother and open your mouth.

Blood still dripping from his lips, Manny stared at her, doe-eyed.

The sight of him helped Slade pull off the best simper she could manage.

"Sir. When you call me such things, it reminds me of a madam at the brothels. Please, call me by name. It's the least I could do for such low-quality product."

They waited, and she did, too. With how much energy she'd used up the night before, doing this barehanded was stupid. Still, it was better she did it than poor Manny or anyone else.

Slade held out her hands for the teeth. Once they touched her palm, she rubbed them together. A minute later, an off-white dust remained.

The fairies salivated. Slade had a good grip, but she let some fall, satisfied when they flew low to catch it.

"Useless bitch," the tall one growled. "You're wasting it."

While they gathered up those fibers, Slade called to the barkeep. "Get a mirror. They'll wanna savor it."

Five minutes later saw Marrow and company huddled in a booth, dragging the dust up their nose.

Fairies...fucking fairies.

Manny nudged her. "Here."

Slade came back to herself and regarded him. His face looked fuller thanks to the fairy blood. It wouldn't last though. As with any addictive substance, the more he used, the more he'd need to have the same effects.

He offered his shoulder, but Slade refused. "Later. Let's get the payment ready. You got the rabbits?"

Hazel eyes fixed on her, Manny grinned wide and extended his arms. "Much. So, so much." He paused and snapped at his right, gaze low. "Fine. Many. The word's many. Do you mind?"

Getting him to focus on one task—one conversation at a time was becoming a problem now. She even doubted his utterance of success with the rabbits.

When he looked at her, she straightened up and tried to smile in an effort to wipe any worry off her face.

"Who's the best vampire big brother ever?"

Manny's eyes widened. In time he pointed to himself, unsure.

Slade fought back her sorrow and smiled through it. "Yup. That's right. It's you."

Beaming, Manny nodded. "Me."

"So you stick close to me. All right? No more wandering off or..." she swallowed down her anger. "Or talking to the Fae."

Someone short of breath rushed in.

Slade didn't have to look, she waited and sure enough, Trixie came with her sorry excuses.

"A overslept. But today's Tax Day and I came to w...arn...you." Trixie focused on the fairies then dropped her voice. "Shit." She was sure to tuck her wings close.

As usual, she carried her jacket which she hurried into. Harpies weren't pleasant company, but they were loyal to a fault. Lazy and half-useless, but loyal to a fault. They were also the Fae's natural enemies.

Trixie rushed to pull her long black hair down to cover the sawed-off horns.

"Think they saw me?"

Slade watched Marrow and company and came to a grim conclusion. "They're not seeing much of anything. Get in the back. We've got business."

"Business?" Trixie's black eyes took her in. "Huh?"

Lazy, useless, and stupid. But loyal to a fault.

It finally dawned on her. "Oh. With them rabbits. Right." She grinned. "Gonna make a fortune, 'eh, boss?"

It'd be something. And it'd prove a new feeding ground was possible—albeit one harder to cultivate. It was hope; it was something.

Leaving the fairies to indulge, they made their way to the long hallway. The backroom teemed with vampire customers in various degenerative states.

"Sovereign," one said, bowing.

It became a chorus soon enough.

Once they ducked inside the room, Manny hurried to her, offering his arm, and subsequently, a filtered dose of the Fae blood coursing through him. "It's near gone."

Slade hated this. She looked into her brother's pleading eyes then nodded. She wanted to refuse. The blood they had now was a good enough bounty. They could refuse.

But when she stared around the entire room to find all eyes on her, then the giant heated pot. One man stirred the blood within. As sovereign, it would be her right to drink first—to drink her fill.

There were no less than thirty vampires waiting for some shred of normalcy, of dignity. She thought to refuse Manny.

Trixie leaned close and reminded her. "He's feeding ya? A few drops of Fae blood, filtered through another vampire or not, is worth ten of these cauldrons."

Manny needed it, though.

Slade made a hard choice and turned to regard her brother's bruised shoulder. This wasn't the first time. And although she prayed it'd be the last, she knew better.

She bit into those bruises—and she did so in fear another vampire might catch poor Manny unawares and drain him instead.

Instead of feeding long, she took enough to get the voice in her head to shut up. Once she was finished, her brother staggered against the wall.

Trixie hurried to put his arm around her shoulder, helping him up. "I've got 'im, boss. Don't you fret."

"Right." Slade scanned the room. Hungry faces greeted her. "Tonight's full moon means we'll get a more potent result. We'll tally it up and give everyone an equal share. But reserve your energy for a few months. That's more than enough time to prove the value in my proposal for substitutions. The tax collector is here. It's no coincidence they choose this day. Since them being here saps into the power of the moon, we've got two options, take the lower dosed blood tomorrow morning, or fess up and ask them to leave."

After much grumbling, they all agreed.

"Leave the Fae outta it. No good comes of their kind," one vampire admitted.

Slade could barely stand it. This much rabbit's blood took ages. And keeping it from congealing was no easy task, either.

"All right." Slade nudged Trixie. "Get the bowls."

"Wait, that's not right." Manny pointed at the cauldron. "What's that?"

But there was nothing to see there. When Slade raised her hand, the vampire stirring the blood obeyed and paused.

Despite the calm, the blood still rippled. Slade scanned the room and took a deep breath. "All of you, drop your vision."

The world darkened to reveal a short fairy, fluttering over the cauldron—pissing in the blood.