PROJECT SONGBIRD ENTRY #139

Subject 32’s bite puncture site exhibits signs of contamination in the Vessel. Scarlet veining spreads outward from the wound during routine feeding. Resembling the petiole and midrib of the Genesis Tree. Further observation of both the Vessel and Subject 32 is required.

The chair scraped against the tiled floor as I dragged it closer to Wren’s glass cage. I settled into it, forearms resting on my knees, watching her. She ran her claws through the thick silver fur of a cat curled up beside her, its purring filling the quiet.

“A group of Lycoris vampires—sirelings—attacked a medical center in the Upper Cities.”

“And how is that my problem?” Her tone was flat, her attention fixed on the book in her lap. She turned a page with one hand, the other still stroking the cat.

“We assume they’re your brother’s.”

“Well they are not mine, if that’s what you’re asking.” Her silver eyes finally lifted to meet mine. “Subject 32 has many sirelings. Unfortunately, I have one.”

“They’re looking for you, aren’t they?”

“Did you expect to steal something without consequences?”

“We expected to steal something that would help us fight them.” I leaned forward. “Now help us, Wren. How do we find Callum and kill him? How do we kill the sirelings?”

“You can’t feel them? Can you even feel me, my dear little sireling?” Her head tilted, her wide smile unsettling.

“What are you talking about?”

“Songbirds are like a flock. You should be able to sense your own when they’re near. But you’ll always feel your sire, no matter the distance.” She closed the book and slid off the cot. “They’re near. Waiting.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “To see if I’ll come out on my own… or if they’ll need to come get me.”

I stood, meeting her at the glass. “They’re here? Near headquarters? How many?”

“Shhh.” She pressed a finger to the barrier as if to silence me. “Listen for your flock, Kieran.”

I exhaled sharply. “That’s not how birds work.”

Her smile widened. “Close your eyes.”

I sighed but did as she asked.

“Have you noticed?” she murmured. “Our hearts beat at a different rhythm. Slower than humans, but steadier. Find the rhythm of your flock.”

I focused, tuning out the background noise. My ears picked up the familiar human heartbeats behind the two-way mirror. Steady. Predictable. I honed in on Erebus—their heartbeat was familiar, a pattern I’d unconsciously memorized. Another human passed in the hallway. Irrelevant.

And then I found it. Wren’s heartbeat. It wasn’t like the others. It was… wrong. Smoother. Too controlled. Less organic, as if mimicking what beat freely in humans.

“There you go.” Her voice purred through the glass. “Now find 32’s sirelings.”

I swallowed, pressing my senses outward. Through the walls. Down corridors. Beyond the building. It was like following a thread, a vibration in the air. And then—

“Two.” I opened my eyes, pulse thrumming.

Wren studied me with fascination, a slow grin spreading across her face. “You’re a fast learner. Entertaining. I’m glad I didn’t eat you.”

My glare sharpened. “How do I kill them?”

Wren tilted her head. “Do you know why vampires never feed on vampires?”

She always had to drag it out. Just give me the damn answer. I exhaled, steadying my frustration. “Vampire blood lacks hemoglobin, the protein we need to counteract vampiric side effects. That’s why our blood is black. Drinking from another vampire would be pointless.”

“It also tastes like bile.” She wrinkled her nose before inhaling. “I can smell that you drink straight from humans. Good. Fresh blood makes you stronger.” She paused as if she lost her train of thought. “Isn’t it so sweet, so rich… so perfect? So why would anyone choose something rancid, useless, and potentially toxic?”

“They wouldn’t.”

“Exactly!” Her eyes widened dramatically. “But guess what happens if you do? If you push through the nausea and drain a vampire completely?” She spread her fingers, mimicking an explosion. “They die. Poof. But a Songbird? They won’t die, but they’ll lose everything keeping them superior. Drag them into the sun and then—”

“I get it. Poof.” I finished. 

She grinned. “Now you’re learning.”

“So this would work on Callum?”

“If you can restrain him long enough to drain him dry, yes.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, gripping the back of the chair as I lifted it. There was no reason for her to lie, but it felt too simple. Nothing about this had been so simple.

“Sireling.” Her voice shifted—quieter, almost careful. It stopped me mid-step. “You’re a vampire. You need to protect vampire-kind, not just humans. You need to kill Elias too.”

I knew what she meant. Bulwark at its foundation existed to protect humans, but for the survival of everyone—vampires, humans, all of it—Elias had to go, just like Callum. But Bulwark would never make that call unless he became a direct threat, like Subject 32. The politics were too tangled, too big for them to touch.

“I know,” I said, glancing back before stepping through the door.