This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)

Veritas straightened to her full five feet six inches, but with her sizzling power and imperial presence, she might as well have been nine feet tall.
“Malcolme Untare, you who have renamed yourself Apollyon, for inciting others in your species to murder and insurrection, you are hereby
sentenced to death.”
He let out a shriek that Veritas ignored. She leaned in until her mouth brushed his ear, and only my close proximity let me hear what she
whispered.
“You miserable worm. Jeanne d’Arc was my friend.”
Then she kicked him, avoiding his grasping hands to stride away with a “Die on your knees or take the fight she offered you. I care not which,”
thrown over her shoulder.
My mouth gaped at this tidbit about my famous half-breed predecessor, but I snapped it shut. Note to self: Don’t get on Veritas’s bad side. She
holds a grudge for centuries.
Then I looked down at the ghoul, feeling my former hatred ebb. For all the lives he’d been responsible for ending and his blind, centuries-long
quest for power, in the end, Apollyon proved to be too pathetic to hate. He wasn’t even worth killing, but if I let him live, my current and future
enemies wouldn’t see it as mercy. They’d see it as a weakness they could exploit. With a clarity I’d lacked before, I understood why Bones did what
he did with my father, and why Vlad let his ruthlessness be seen more readily than his finer qualities. It wasn’t out of sadistic enjoyment or to pick
fights. It was to prevent them.
“Pick up that sword,” I said to Apollyon, enunciating each word. “Or I’ll kill you where you kneel.”
I wouldn’t take any enjoyment out of it, but I’d do it because it had to be done. Veritas had already sentenced him to death on behalf of the
vampire ruling body. If I walked away, it wouldn’t save his life. She or someone else would just kill him.
“No,” Apollyon said, almost a whimper. Then he scrambled forward and tried to run.
I caught him before he’d made it even a dozen feet, letting him hit me with all the power in his stocky body. He only had his hands, and I still had a
really long blade.
“Apollyon had all of you getting your hate on because of a lie that I’d become a half vampire, half ghoul,” I called out to the ghouls who watched us
with grim enthrallment. “Because if someone’s unusual, then you should be afraid of them, right?”
Apollyon tried to tackle me to the ground, but for all the years he had on me, he obviously hadn’t spent them learning how to fight—and I’d had
one hell of a teacher. Despite the pain still arcing down my side, I swiveled at the last moment, leaping onto his back when his momentum still had
him charging forward. Then I brought my sword against his neck.
“You all want to know why I have abilities other new vampires don’t?” I said, digging that blade in. “Because I don’t feed from humans; I drink
vampire blood.”
And then I yanked it toward my body, cutting my hand to grip the naked edge for maximum balance, feeling more satisfaction from that public
admission than I did seeing Apollyon’s head separate from his neck. All my life, I’d had to hide what I was. First as a child when I didn’t even know
why other kids weren’t like me, then when I hunted vampires in my late teens and mid-twenties, and finally, my oddities this past year as a full
vampire. Well, I was done hiding, hating, or apologizing for the parts of me I hadn’t chosen and couldn’t change. If some people had a problem with
my differences, that was just too fucking bad for them.
“That’s right, I eat vampires,” I said again, louder this time. I pushed his body away and stood, shaking the blood off my sword as I faced the
remaining group of ghouls.
“World’s freakiest bloodsucker, right here,” I went on. “And you know what? If that makes some of you uncomfortable, too bad. If it makes some
of you so uncomfortable you want to start shit with me about it, step right up and see if I don’t eat the hell out of you next!”
I’d meant that last part as a threat, but somewhere in my impassioned declaration of independence from hiding what I was, I’d neglected to think
through my phrasing. I saw Bones raise a brow, a muffled snicker broke out from Ian, and then Vlad laughed loud and hearty.
“With that sort of invitation, Reaper, you might want to suggest the line form to your right.”
“That’s not . . . I meant eat them in a bad way,” I sputtered.
“I think you made your point, luv,” Bones responded, his face carefully blank even thought I caught a faint twitch to his mouth. Then his expression
hardened as he looked at Veritas, who’d turned around to watch me behead Apollyon. “And I second it,” he said, all traces of humor gone from his
voice.
The Law Guardian stared at me. I didn’t regret a moment of my public declaration—aside from perhaps my wording—but I knew her response
carried more weight than my vampire audience or the score of surrendered ghouls. She also spoke for the highest ruling body over vampires.
At last, Veritas shrugged. “That does make you the world’s freakiest bloodsucker, but there’s no law against a vampire feeding from other
vampires.” And then she turned away.