I spread a clean tablecloth on the table, place the freshly baked potatoes, the napkin, the salt, and with trembling hands, I set the table for one person. I carefully align the fork and the plate and the glass. I step back to check the overall effect. The midday sun shines on the cream-coloured silk, glinting off the silver cutlery. Two hours ago, when I was struggling with the iron, I had serious doubts about the result, but now they are gone. It's exactly as it should be.

I look up at the clock. Lili has just finished at the café and will be home in about fifteen minutes. My eyes flick to the calendar hanging under the clock, with today's date circled thickly to mark her ovulation. An uncomfortable numbness creeps up my spine. She keeps thinking that I will forget, even though I’ve already calculated her fertile days for the next year too.

I turn to the sink and get ready to remove the traces of my kitchen clumsiness. Mechanically, I pull on the rubber gloves and turn on the tap, while the circled number glows indelibly in my mind. 13 September. Not just the middle of her cycle, exactly two years ago on this day, Lili lost everything. Her throne, her people, her life, her child. The child who never had the chance to be born.

Logan's child.

The wall clock is clicking. I'd like to smash it to the floor. That racist, arrogant prince succeeded right away, but I still couldn't get her pregnant in six months. When we decided, I knew my species had a low fertility rate. She knew it too. Still... A voice kept thumping in my head to the rhythm of my pulse: You are not enough. You'll never be able to give it to her. She deserves better. You'll never have a family. You have no future.

Blood swirling down the drain. I have no idea when I washed the dishes or when I made my hands into fists. The yellow rubber gloves hang in orange shreds from my claws. I immediately throw it out, rubbing my already healed hands together under running water. Lili must not see...

“Hello there!”

I flinch in fright.

“When did you...?”

Her broadly smiling face, her pretty figure dressed in the black and white uniform of a waiter, banishes the darkness from my mind. From beneath the unbuttoned shirt at his neck, an angel-shaped onyx pendant flashes out. My heart overflows with love.

“You think too much.” She shakes her head.

“Sometimes you do too.” I ruffle her blonde curls.

“That's for sure: I've been thinking about chips for weeks. But what do I make of this? Are you exempting me from the torture of human beings that's known as healthy diet?”

“Today I'm giving you permission to feast. But only today.”

She's right at the table, pouncing on the potatoes like a predator on its prey. She reaches in, brings it to her mouth. For a moment, I feel embarrassed for having carefully laid the table, but her green aura of dancing happiness makes up for my wasted effort.

“So just today?” Her pleading gaze glances over my shoulder, catches on the calendar.

The air freezes, fries fall on the tablecloth. Her smile fades, the gleam in her violet eyes fades. Her face ages years from the horror. The agitated bouncing of her aura reveals she's swallowing her tears.

I want to say something. Anything to lift her from the mire of the past, but I can't. There are no words to ease the pain that she’s been through.

You couldn’t save her. You are not enough. You never were...

A lock of my hair wraps around the bottle lying on the kitchen counter and places it on the table. A muffled knock brings Lili back to the present.

“Is that...?” she reaches for the blood-filled bottle.

“I killed someone and I thought...”

“You killed someone?!” Her voice trembles, knowing how much I love to eat in bed. „Couldn't you have waited...?”

“It was a man.” An occasion of exception.

“Did you really fuck a man?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Today is as important to me as it is to you. I'm not gonna waste it on some half-hour fling. Besides, you know me; I don't sleep with men.”

She laughs.

“Too bad. Even if you hadn't, I would have sacrificed a month to see that.”

“I'm sorry, Lili, but there are things I wouldn't do for you.”

“You're willing to do a lot of things you once said you'd never do.” She winks and starts to eat.

One potato after another disappears between her smiling lips, her teeth grinding slowly behind her narrow mouth, savouring the moment. She swallows, my eyes greedily drinking in every tiny move of her neck. My loin strains against my trousers. I wish she'd take me in her mouth...

“You're really into something.” As soon as she says it, her pale, freckled face takes on a darker hue.

“I still love watching you eat.”

“I love watching you eat too.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I love realizing again and again that I’m the only one who’s ever lived to see the morning beside you. Well, to tell you the truth, I was a little jealous at first. I thought I was gonna bite that giggling bitch’s throat. But then, when I saw the way you took possession of her body, her soul... the way you took her in touch by touch, only to destroy her inside and out. The look on her face when she realizes she’s not going to make it out alive... Priceless.”

Her words melt my shivering soul. I’m deeply touched that she understands and accepts me so. That I don’t have to lie, hide and pretend to be someone I’m not. Moreover, she shares my pleasure.

I’m throbbing, my pants are getting uncomfortable. I’d like to have her right there. I wonder if she feels the same way on the other side of the table. I’m about to cross my legs, but she slides her foot between my knees. She knows me too well. Her foot touches my erection, while she takes her time to munch on some potatoes – don’t torture me... – and drinks from the bottle.

“I thought your diet was rather monotonous and it would be good to drink from others, but there is too many preservatives in the blood from the shops...”

“It’s cute when you talk so much in your embarrassment.”

She gets up from the table, walks over to me, sits on my lap. Her black skirt slides up her thighs, her femininity pressed against my dick. She must be wearing very thin underwear, because I can feel her warmth through the fabric.

„You know Devin, it’s all awfully nice of you and that other guy is delicious too, but I prefer your taste.” She pulls my shirt aside, her pointed teeth sinks into my neck. My blood rushes into her with a pleasant, tingling feeling. It feels good. Her closeness, and that she wants me, in every sense. That my body feeds her, that her life depends on me...

And her happiness, her future.

Doubt digs its icy claws into me. It's choking me, but I overcome it. I must. I'd do anything to heal the wounds Logan inflicted on her.

Anything...

...but It was not enough.

Infertility clinic.

Blood collection.

Gynaecology.

Andrology.

„It is well known that energy vampires have a below average active sperm count, but your sample contains no live sperm at all.”

Biopsy.

„Histological examination confirmed Sertoli Cell Only Syndrome. This is a permanent condition, there is no cure.”

„Is there no solution?”

„Donor insemination or adoption.”

Something died in me then and there. I would have done anything to fulfill her wish. To see her purple eyes sparkling with happiness again.

But I never will.

The meat grinder of failure keeps destroying my insides, my hairs stick to the blood of my back. I glance in the mirror; my face is framed by dark streaks.

The blue tiles begin a mocking dance at the edge of my vision. As if my soul has escaped my body along with my blood.

I throw away the condom and get in the shower. The hot water splashes over my scalp, cleansing my mind of thoughts, washing away the red waves of the past. It drips down through my hair and down my back, warming my feet. This warm emptiness...

It's pleasant.

Just like that girl with the blue hair was. I recall her longing eyes, her gaping mouth, her soft warmth, the heady feeling of her soul flowing into me. Her terror. The power. The freedom.

I want to live it again. As soon as possible. I wonder if I have a new assignment. I haven't checked the mailbox today, it is time to do so.

I step outside and put a towel on. by a freshly pulled-over bed, the body has been transferred to a nylon bag spread out on the floor. Jevon is enthroned on the made-up bed, fully immersed in the girl's colorful-cased mobile, a forefinger with black fake nails hanging from his mouth. He must have used it to unlock the screen lock.

“Gosh Devin, this female was only eighteen years old,” he smiles.

I shrug. Here, in the Underworld, she is considered old enough to drink with his friends in a nightclub, to flirt with an older man...

“So did her friends see you leave?”

“I think so.”

“Is that them?” He shows a photo on the phone. On the screen, my victim grins at me, along with a pink and a red-haired girl. Their faces are partially obscured by the bunny filter, but they're recognizable.

“Great, I don't have to settle for this wrinkled meat today. I write to them immediately: if you're still in the Ruin, we should meet up. Guess what, I had the date of my life! Smilingey, hearty, blushing smiley.”

He picks up the clothes around the bed and gets dressed. When he turns my way again, I find myself face to face with the same girl I called into my apartment less than an hour ago. Except for the human stump protruding from the corner of her mouth.

“Even her hair is as blue as mine! What a suitable task! Leave it to me; and the cameras too.”

I am embarrassed by her enthusiasm and all that she does for me. As one of the founding dragons of the Alliance, she has no obligation to look after me, yet she is adamant. I hope the cleaning squads appreciate her diligence.

The messenger pings.

“They’ve already written back!” A wide predatory smile spreads across her face, she sucks in the rest of the finger. Blood trickles down her chin. I turn away, but I can still hear the soft clack of fingernails hit the floor, the crunch of bone under her teeth. I search eagerly with my gaze for something to distract me.

On my desk lies an envelope.

“I brought in the mail while you were in the shower,” she answers my unspoken question.

It's addressed to Devin Morawa. Only the Alliance uses my real identity here.

I open it immediately, look through the letter. I can kill two people: a fifty-five-year-old man and a seventeen-year-old girl. Same address, both doxies, the reason of their elimination: self-identification. Could be father and daughter.

James Morawa. Namesakes are common around here, but his sunken face, flat nose, pale eyes are familiar from somewhere. My gaze roams to the photo of the girl, linger on it. Her black-rimmed glasses, her shy smile, her long brown hair.

My tongue slides excitedly over the edge of my teeth.

Talia Morawa.