Chapter 4: Blackwood Family

I approached the door carefully, making sure to barely touch the handle. At least I wouldn't have to worry about breaking that particular piece. The dining hall was as grand as everything else in the Blackwood estate. A long table that could seat twenty, crystal chandeliers hanging over silver cutlery. But my attention was immediately drawn to the two figures already seated at the head of the table. So this is Adrian's father, I thought, studying the imposing man with steel-grey hair and sharp, calculating eyes. Duke Marcus Blackwood sat with perfect posture, his presence powerful even in the simple act of reviewing some documents while waiting for dinner to be served. Everything about him screamed authority and discipline. And this must be Adrian's mother. Duchess Elena Blackwood was elegance personified, with flowing hazelnut hair and kind blue eyes that seemed to soften the entire atmosphere of the room. She wore a gentle smile as she arranged flowers in a small vase, humming softly to herself. Where her husband was all sharp edges and stern authority, she radiated warmth and compassion. It was a wonder how the original Adrian had turned out to be such a weak-willed disappointment. "Adrian, darling," my mother said warmly as I entered, her face lighting up with affection. "Come, sit. The cook has prepared your favorite. Roasted duck with honey glaze." My father looked up from his papers, giving me a measured nod. "Son. I trust you are progressing adequately? Your bloodline should awaken soon; you need to be careful and let me know what you get. I will try to support you before the academy starts." "Yes, Father," I replied, carefully pulling out my chair and sitting down with as much control as I could manage. The wood creaked ominously under what should have been normal pressure. Duke Marcus raised an eyebrow at the sound but said nothing. My mother glanced at me then said something that made my worst fears come true. "Adrian, honey. You look different, why is that?" She asked me, tilting her head. I immediately responded, having thought of an answer beforehand. "I'm trying out a new product on the market, it helps the skin." I said, trying to hide my canine whilst I spoke. Luckily, my response was taken positively and everything progressed. The servants began bringing out the courses, and I had to admit that everything looked absolutely magnificent. The roasted duck was perfectly golden, accompanied by an array of colorful vegetables and delicate sauces that would have made my mouth water in my previous life. My mother beamed with pride. "I asked the cook to add just a touch more honey this time, the way you used to love it when you were little." I lifted a forkful of the duck to my mouth, trying to appear normal despite the looks my senses were picking up from both parents. The moment the food touched my tongue, however, my stomach lurched violently. The taste was absolutely revolting. Like fermented fish that had been left to rot in the sun for decades, mixed with something that might have been spoiled milk. The texture felt slimy and wrong, and the smell that had seemed so appetizing moments before now made me feel like I was going to be sick I barely managed to swallow the bite, my face turning pale as I fought down the urge to vomit right there at the dinner table. "Adrian?" My mother's gentle voice was immediately filled with concern. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? You look terrible." "I..." I set down my fork carefully, praying I wouldn't snap the delicate silver in half. "I'm feeling quite ill, actually. Perhaps something I ate earlier. Please excuse me... enjoy your food, father, mother." I stood up slowly, still fighting my rebellious stomach. Both of my parents exchanged glances. My mother's filled with worry, my father's more suspicious. "Of course, darling," my mother said softly. "Go rest. I'll have Charlotte bring you some tea later." "Thank you, Mother. Father." I bowed slightly and made my exit as gracefully as possible, though I could feel their eyes following me all the way to the door. They looked at each other, then Duke Marcus smiled. "It seems like our son is getting the symptoms of his bloodline awakening. I wonder what it is. I've never had those kinds of symptoms, so it's definitely not my talent." Elena nodded, though she was still worried about her only son. "Not mine either." I had barely made it halfway up the stairs when I heard Charlotte's quick footsteps behind me. "Young Master!" she called out. "Please wait!" I paused, turning to face the maid who had served my family for her entire young life. "I'm so sorry, Young Master," she said, wringing her hands anxiously. "If the cooking wasn't to your liking, I can speak to the kitchen staff immediately. Perhaps the cook used different seasonings, or maybe the duck wasn't prepared properly..." "Charlotte, it's not..." I started, then stopped. How could I possibly explain that human food now tasted like rotting garbage because I'd been transformed into a vampire? "It's not anyone's fault. I think I might be coming down with something. The food looked and smelled wonderful. It's just my stomach that's the problem." The kind maid looked only slightly reassured. "Shall I bring you some broth? Or perhaps some plain bread? Sometimes simple foods are easier when you're feeling poorly." Nothing you could bring me would help, I thought grimly. Unless you give me your blood, I won't be satisfied. "That's very thoughtful, Charlotte, but I think I just need to rest for now. Perhaps tomorrow I'll feel better." As I continued up to my room, my mind raced. If I couldn't eat normal food, what exactly was I supposed to do? Just drink blood? The thirst that had been gnawing at me all day suddenly felt much more urgent and terrifying. I was going to have to figure out how to feed myself... and it needed to be soon.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​