"Mama?"

At first I think the childish voice is one of my ghosts. They always make me sad, the idea that a soul so young can be so sorrowful.

A hand pats my cheek. "Mama?"

My gargoyles have cool, stone skin, like leather over rock. This hand is soft, small, and wet.

Wet?

My eyes open to see the baby. Dark eyes wide, she leans back when she sees I'm awake and pops her fingers into her mouth. That explains the wetness.

"Hello," I whisper.

"Where's Mama?" she asks.

"She is not here, sweetie. She died," I explain as gently as I can, but I won't lie to her. Death... it isn't the worst thing that can happen to you. Being trapped in a root cellar your whole life, for example.

Then again, while I look at her as she examines me back, I see the life in her eyes, the warmth of her tiny body. She's alive. Maybe it will all be worth it in the end.

"I am Mara. What is your name?" I start with an easy question.

She just looks at me, her red curls escaping from the braids, her fingers still in her mouth.

I try something else. "Did your mama call you a name?"

Again, no response. I wonder, a little frantically, what I am supposed to do with her. She doesn't know her own name. Doesn't understand anything of the world except that basement.

"What should I call you?" I whisper.

Poppy

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. Of course my father suggests the name of the flower of mourning. I admit her hair is close to the red of the poppy flower, but really? The seeds of the poppy flower are known to put a person in such a deep sleep that it resembles death, hence its name as the mourning flower. There is also a myth that says that my father used the exquisite poppies to lure Love herself into his kingdom.

I smirk to myself. "Will Love mind her name?"

Silence from the god. Ha.

I look at the little female again. Poppy. I actually like it, if only because it's so close to Thelios' nickname for her; poppet.

"Would you like to be named Poppy?" I ask her.

She takes her wet fingers from her mouth and touches my cheek. I smile, letting her touch me despite the slimy feeling. My gargoyles have done worse with their endless pranks.

"Are you hungry, Poppy?" I ask her. I may as well start using her new name right away.

She nods. It's a cautious movement.

I stand up and spot the bowls on the table. I pick up Poppy, who barely weighs anything, and carry her to the table. The soup must have been left by my Recondite Captain. I look, it's a simple onion and barley soup. I sit with Poppy in my lap to feed her more easily. Smiling I say to her. "Captain Thelios must have snuck into the kitchen. The cook here, his name is Banio, does not like intruders in his kitchen. What a brave male the Captain is." I spoon small bites into her mouth. Those dark eyes hardly ever leave my face as she eats. She is listening to my endless stream of words, especially when I talk about my gargoyles.

Where are my gargoyles? I frown at the thought and Poppy freezes on my lap. A warm, wet sensation leaks through my robes. I look down, startled. She peed on my lap. A tear rolls down her cheek, her lower lip starts to tremble.

I rush to explain, everything in me fighting against cringing at the urine soaking my robes. "I'm not mad at you, Poppy. I was just wondering where the gargoyles are. They are always with me. Especially Harku, remember him? He cleans the temple? And Alnue, he's always at the library. I'm just wondering where they are."

She settles down a little and I debate whether I should keep feeding her or clean myself up. Her bony, skinny body convinces me to keep spooning food into her. I'll take her back to the pool. She doesn't even have clothes and mine are already soaked. A couple of extra minutes in wet clothes so that she can be full is worth it.

"Alright, Poppy. Let's go bathe again, hmm? Then I can show you some of the temple and we can get you clothes." And I can introduce you to the Postites and Patriarch Salbin, I add silently. I do cringe, outwardly, at the thought of the frugal male's reaction to a child in the temple. My father named her, so she's mine, ours. She stays. And I've heard that children are expensive.

My wet robes are uncomfortable as we walk upstairs to the sacred pool. Poppy seems completely unbothered by it. For the umpteenth time since we brought her here I find myself wondering; what next? What do I do? Does she understand how to use the toilet or is she still in changing clothes?

I have to stop at the entrance to the sacred pool temple and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. The smell of silt fills my nostrils. The mud from the flooding is still not entirely cleaned up. It's an earthy smell, very unlike the taint of embalming fluids and the acids from the pool.

"Nateos, guide me," I murmur softly.

Poppy pats my cheek again. "Teos," she murmurs, repeating my words with her own garbled sentence.

"Right," I open my eyes. "Let's go, poppet."

I disrobe both of us and sink into the water, pleased to see that Poppy's fear of the bath has disappeared this second time. She smiles at the water, touching it gently with the tips of her fingers, watching it run over our skin with curiosity. She looks at my father's statue for a long time in curiosity, but says nothing about the god himself.

A chattering noise reaches my ears and I smile at Poppy. "The gargoyles are back, Poppy. Can you see them?" I ask, but don't expect or need an answer. She is watching them cavort as they enter the temple, eyes wide.

Mushu shoves Mishu into the pool as Momo crawls along the stone corbels upside down. He is the first to see Poppy.

He coos, leaping down and rushing over with his orange eyes glowing.

"This is Momo," I introduce him, "he's very nice," I add.

Poppy shows no fear towards the gargoyles. I know I used Harku to get her into the bath, and I feel a tiny bit ashamed of scaring her into cooperating. But now it's as if her fear has diminished enough that she's simply curious. She doesn't realize just how unique my gargoyles are.

"That's Mushu, and he's Mishu," I say, pointing to the other two as they come over to look at Poppy.

"There's Harku," I say, as the brown gargoyle moves into my father's stone lap and glares at our discarded robes.

"Where is Alnue?" I ask them.

"Baarrryy," Mishu hisses.

"Alnue is in the library. I'll show you that later. It's... it has scrolls and tablets with... things are written down and inscribed..." Poppy is just staring at me. "Stories and things," I finish lamely.

She looks back at Momo. "Momo," she says softly. Her fingers come out of her mouth with a plop and she reaches out towards him. Momo holds still, letting her touch his cheek with just the very tips of her fingers. She hurriedly withdraws her hand and back into her mouth they go.

Alnue comes scampering in a moment later. In his arms is a bundle of light purple cloth. I'm a little surprised, despite how adept my gargoyles are at discovering and... ahem... finding things, at the small dress he has managed to bring us.

"Alright, Poppy. I think we can get out and dry off now, hmm? This is Alnue. He brought you a dress." Lavender, another color of death... I sigh.

"Perhaps some yellow, father?" I murmur.

He scoffs and I roll my eyes.

I dress Poppy and myself. Momo brings a bite of bread and I help Poppy eat. Her manners are not the best. She nibbles the bread with a furtive manner, eyes darting to the gargoyles as if they'll snatch her meal. It's not much, but she stops before she finishes the bread. Her stomach is too small. My earlier assessment was right, she is only the size of about two of my gargoyles.

When we walk out into the hallway I see that night has crept over the city, hues of purple already streaking through the sky. It's dark enough that I think Poppy can go outside.

"Would you like to see the garden, Poppy?" I whisper to her. She doesn't respond, but her dark eyes are wide as we walk into the garden.

Fall is coming, but there are still a few stubborn blooms left on the bushes. I chose this garden, in particular, because of the white flowers and the small size.

Poppy is still in my arms as I carry her from flower to flower, letting her touch a few petals before she stops reacting. She lays her head on my shoulder, the soft sounds of her breathing and sucking on her fingers all that lets me know that she is awake. Like before, I just talk, letting my words flow over us as I show her the beauty of nature.

"Look at the stars, Poppy. We were told, growing up, that the stars were lovers, forever together, entwined in the sky.

My father snorts derisively.

Poppy's head droops heavily and I know she's sleeping. With a sigh I sit down on one of the stone benches. I am so tired as I take the grief from Poppy. I barely notice, it's just something that has to be done. The grief of a child for her dead mother. Confusing, heavy, a grief that is unlike a grown shifter's entirely. Poppy doesn't understand death, not yet. The pool helps, a little, but her grief is wavering, coming and going, and I just keep siphoning it into myself. She's suffered enough.

Momo comes up and curls in my lap next to Poppy. I pat him absently. He smells heavily of woodsmoke and fish.

---

"She is a fraud, a pathetic Acera," the old male is spitting mad, literally frothing at the mouth in rage. He is the noble wife's father. He did not like hearing that my Flame discovered his son-in-law's disgusting perfidy.

"Your daughter's bonded was a sick, twisted fuck," I tell him mildly, "he killed himself a week ago because his Fated was dying. Your daughter killed herself because she discovered the truth."

"You are only saying this because of that bitch! She has spread falsehoods against my House! Against my family!" he shrieks.

The burning house behind me warms my body, but my heart is cold. My demon is still, frozen in a predatory stare as every filthy slur against my female is spat out into the night.

"She is just your whore! The daughter of death, pah on Nateos!" he screams.

I let the smile slide over my lips. I was waiting for this, for this stupid Tasuri male to make the mistake of heresy against one of the gods.

Thank you, Nateos.

I move forward, grasping his jaw in one hand, my thumb and fingers finding the hinges at either side and pushing hard enough to pop open his mouth. With the other hand I pull my blade from my vest and in one smooth motion slice his tongue from his mouth.

I move fluidly, a series of small movements that blend into one seamless attack. No one sees it coming. No one can prevent it.

He falls to the street, clutching his mouth with both hands as bright red blood spills over and down his chin. He screams and gargles, choking and spitting, pain and shock taking over his body.

"I would hesitate to draw that blade, if I were you," Belen's cold voice washes over the stunned crowd. An elder of the Fourth House has just lost his tongue, two of their finest Tasuri warriors are burning to death inside the house. Other members of the Fourth are restless and some of them may be foolish enough to attack me. I sincerely hope that they do.

Demon horns, claws, fangs, scales, all are sprouting in reaction. Instinctive, perhaps from anger, perhaps as protection from the perceived threat I pose.

"Do not be foolish," I tell the crowd coldly.

A female creeps forward, not looking me in the eyes. She leans down and grasps the elderly male's arm, tugging and pulling him away from me.

"Does anyone else wish to share their thoughts?" I ask. I scan the crowd. A roof rafter falls behind me, sending flames shooting into the sky. "No one? Be very careful of your tongues, Fourth House."

I turn to leave, almost stepping on the appendage. Stooping down, I scoop it up and toss it to one of the orange-eyed gargoyles, Mishu or Mushu, I can't tell them apart. He stops pretending to piss on the flames and grabs it, swallowing it whole. Chortling, he turns back to the flames, pushing the other out of the way. Momo is diligently trying to steal a bracelet from a noble lady's arm. The other Mishu or Mushu leaves the flames and finds a stick, running through the crowd and poking members of the Fourth House with it. Mostly the males, mostly in the groin.

They can't see the gargoyles. It explains why my Flame was so surprised that I can. I smile, probably looking terrifying with my wings and fangs on full display. My Flame can pretend the bond between us doesn't exist, but this is just more evidence that we belong together.

---

I wonder if she knows how utterly alluring she is with the babe in her arms, curled together, sleeping in the moonlight.

I feel my demon stretch inside me. I look at my Flame, at her alabaster skin, red lips, bright, copper hair, and wonder for a moment if I am good enough.

The Lady Grief. That is what the Fourth House was calling her. So much of what they said seems bizarre, impossible. This city is rife with rumors about her. I don't think she knows that. She hides herself, here in this dark temple, under her robes and veils. Such a mystery, my female, but why?

I thought, foolishly, that she was born here, in this place. To know that she came here broken, like our little poppet, makes my demon bare his teeth in a soundless snarl.

I am not a pureblood. My wings tell me that. I can't retract them, can't hide myself. I have never tried to. The pures of the Fourth, they show such an obvious disdain for those they deem less worthy; the Acera, those who have no shifting at all, the half-breds, like me, the skinwalkers, like Belen and Nanto. All of us are less than the Tasuri.

What am I saying? I am the best.

Fuck that Fourth House male today who spoke of my female with derision, calling her an Acera, a fraud. I silenced him, permanently.

I look over at Mishu-Mushu, who burps, and wink. He enjoyed that tongue. It was a good treat for him.

Bending, I carefully scoop up both my Fated and my child. Poppet stirs and opens her eyes to look at me.

"Capin," she murmurs. Her eyes slide closed again. She puts her fingers into her mouth and starts sucking on them. I frown. She will need to stop that habit. It's not good for her fangs, if she has them.

I carry my family back to Mara's rooms and tuck them into bed. I bathed before coming here, so she can't be too angry with me if I stay, right?

I shuck my boots to the corner and take off most of my weapons, leaving them on the table. I leave my sword right next to the bed and shuck all but my loincloth before crawling in next to my females.

I kiss poppet on the cheek, then my Sprite on the lips. I push Momo off of my pillow before laying down and gathering Mara into my arms.

Content, I sleep.

---

I wake up with Thelios kissing me. Soft, seeking, his lips slant over mine. I suck in a shocked breath and scent something so delicious that my gums ache from need.

"Hungry," I rasp out, opening my eyes.

"Good Morning, Sprite." He is watching me closely, his grey eyes solemn. He doesn't move, though. Makes no motion to leave my bed. Why and how he came to be here I don't know, but I can't bring myself to care.

I am weak with hunger from my efforts.

"I'm so hungry, Thelios," I tell him. I'm demanding something, but I don't know what.

"Oh, my Sprite. Your fangs," he murmurs. He brushes his thumb over the corner of my mouth.

"I don't have fangs," I tell him.

He smiles at me and I have to hold my breath to keep from pouncing on him for another kiss. He is a handsome male. His smile is beautiful.

"I'm hungry," I growl.

"Let me find something for you to eat, Sprite."

He finally moves, untangling our limbs and beginning to stand from my bed.

I feel the loss of that scent, that warmth, keenly. I'm so hungry, the pain in my gums acute, my stomach aching fiercely.

Thelios' vien jumps in his neck. I grab his hand, holding on tight even though I know he could easily shake me off. I start to drool, transfixed by the healthy thud of his heart beating through that vein.

"What do you need, my love?" he asks softly.

"You, I need you," I respond instinctively.

"Another kiss?" he whispers.

The Kiss of Death

"I don't want him to die," I respond to my father absently. Thelios' pulse is thrumming steadily, not racing. He's not afraid.

"Will I die?" his eyebrows raise. Even though he asked that question, his heartbeat remains the same. Calm.

"What is the Kiss of Death?" I whisper.

"Ah, my Sprite," Thelios says softly. "I've only heard Belen's nan mention it once. One of the demons etched on my back is a Obahaun. It drinks blood, my love. It's called the Kiss of Death."

"I'm so hungry, Thelios," I am practically purring, pulling him back to me, crawling into his lap. "I've been hungry for months and months, since I broke the bond between Tafia and Sera. Nothing makes the hunger go away but Alnue's wine."

"His wine?" Thelios questions me gently.

I hum a response "he adds something to it."

"Blood, Sprite."

I shake my head. "I'm not a Obohan."

He smiles, "an Obahaun."

"Yes, not that," I breathe out, edging closer to him, ready to press my nose to his throat to inhale every bit of his delicious scent.

I don't see his wrist move, just the flash of copper, then the scent blooms, explodes into the air. Red pours from a thin slice in his neck. Blood-red, like Poppy's hair. Beautiful.

"Here, Sprite." He tugs me closer, his hand wrapping tightly in my hair, bringing my mouth to rest over the wound.

The first wash of liquid on my tongue is like nothing I've ever tasted. I thought the wine from Alnue was good, but this... this is unbelievable. I immediately latch on, swallowing him, lapping and licking and sucking like a true fiend.

Thelios moans and I whimper a response. I'm so sorry, I want to tell him. The Kiss of Death, father called it. Will I kill him? I don't want to kill him. Oh, gods, please no, father.

"Capin? Mama?"

Poppy's innocent voice breaks the trance Thelios' blood placed me under. I break off from him with a small cry of dismay, staring in horror as he quickly wipes off his neck and then my mouth.

"Good morning, poppet. Are you hungry?" he asks her smoothly.

Hungry. I duck my head. I can't look at Poppy... or Thelios. I just drank his blood. Straight from his vein. I'm a monster.

I haven't felt this alive since I became Mara.