Finn the Devourer
A drunk man stumbled against the wall of the alley and paused for a moment, breathing heavily with great rasping, sputum filled breaths. I could hear his pulse from where I stood several feet behind him, scenting the sweet blood that churned through his veins. There were other smells too, the tart scent of crème de menthe, the dull odors of paperwork and despair.
Those were not the scents that interested me. I was hungry, ravenous, and he possessed that which I craved most. The burger he held in his hand called out to me with rich meat scent, dripping tangy tomato and heavenly mayo. Even the cardboard-like burger buns seemed appetizing to one as hungry as I.
I went over my ambush plans one more time. I would push him down, take his burger and devour it in an instant. Perhaps he would go hungry, but he would at least escape with his life. That was a great deal better than the fate that would have befallen him if I had obeyed the orders of my elders. As my hunger grew, my fangs extended, my senses heightened. I slid deeper into the shadows and began to stalk towards my victim and its human bearer.
Alas, my attack was not to be. Before I could pounce on the man and claim my tempting prize, a cool hand gripped my shoulder and I was whirled around noiselessly to see Andrea’s beautiful Aryan face wrinkled with disdain. She shook her head at me noiselessly as she drew me back out of the alley. When she finally spoke, her refined tones were laced with a tone of disappointment I had grown all too used to.
“Trash, liebling, trash,” she said condescendingly. I pretended to pay attention, but out of the corner of my eye I watched as the drunkard righted himself and bit into the burger. My burger. A low whine of despair escaped my lips and my canines retracted to their normal positions. The hunt was over.
“He’s alive, he has blood, is that not enough?” I lied as if I’d been about to kill the old man. I was in enough trouble as it was without her discovering that I still harbored my unnatural taste for human food.
Her fine, eyebrows rose into sharp peaks, and her ruby red lips parted to reveal sharp, slivered fangs. “No, you know very well that is not enough. I have taught you better than that.”
She had taught me better than that. She’d taught me to seek out the young, the healthy, the vibrant. But I was reluctant to take those who still had something to gain from life. I was reluctant to take anything in fact. All I really wanted was a nice burger, perhaps a lightly seared steak with curly fries. It had been weeks since I was last forced to drink human blood, and I felt myself growing weaker by the day. In response to her expectant glare, I simply shrugged wordlessly. There were no good explanations with Andrea.
She looked me over sourly. “Come home, the sun will rise soon, and you are not strong enough to take it.”
I considered refusing her command, but the House of Lidran was the only home I could remember, and those who inhabited it were the only family I had. Though they may not approve of me, I was at least safe in their company, which was more than I could say for myself when I was left to my own devices. A vampire with a thirst for ketchup and fries does not survive long on the streets.
My shoulders sagged as I followed Andrea obediently back to the chunky black Mercedes that had been parked nearby on the street corner. I thought I’d left the house alone, but it was no great surprise to discover that she’d followed me. I was not yet trusted. I was, after all, not truly one of the House, but a foundling dumped on the doorstep, marked with the sign of Lidran, but with no other clues to explain my origin.
I had been no help either. I didn’t remember a thing before I had woken up on the hard concrete outside the mansion on a bright moonlit night. I could be new or centuries old, there was no way of telling. Like the others, my porcelain skin was ageless. I appeared to be in the prime of life, not young enough to be entirely foolish, not old enough to be weak and jaded, but my inability to recall a time before Lidran left me at a disadvantage that rendered me as useless as an infant.
The only oddity about me that might have provided some clue to my previous existence were my violet eyes. The House of Lidran were dark eyed or red eyed, and my strange ocular orbs earned me mistrust from many of the younger members house. They would be happy to see me destroyed, I knew that, I saw it in their savage glances. Andrea may not have liked me, but at least she did not want me dead.
I slipped into the passenger seat and slumped down, depressed. Andrea got into the driver’s side and flashed me a pitying look. “You must learn to hunt.”
“Don’t want to hunt,” I muttered, staring out the window at the warehouses that flashed by. Andrea drove impossibly fast.
“Really, you are like a baby,” she snapped irritably, throwing the car into a wide skid around an isolated city corner.
“You are like a shrew,” I hurled back testily. The insult earned me an icy gaze.
“Madame would not like to hear you say such things.”
Madame, as she was called by her nearest and dearest, was the matriarch of Lidran. It was she who had declared that I should be embraced into the coven and not destroyed as some of the others had suggested. A truly ancient one, Madame had seen every civilization since Babylonian times. It gave her a coolness of perspective that Andrea, a relatively young vampire created sometime in the 10th century, did not yet have.
“Go ahead and tell on me, I don’t care.”
Andrea scowled at the road. “You have not been beaten enough.”
“I have never been beaten. I am to weak to be beaten, remember?” I smirked back at her.
She rolled her eyes at me, and I found myself giggling lightheadedly. The sound of my laughter was infectious, and in spite of herself, Andrea was soon cracking the barest of smiles.
“You are trouble, Finn, too much trouble,” she said, shaking her head as we reached the old mansion that was home to the coven.
The first person I saw as I made my way into the mansion was the last person I wanted to see. Madame was lying in wait in the parlor with her coterie and she rose with a smile as I traipsed in the door, treading mud into the deep burgundy carpeting.
“Finn my dear, did you hunt this night?” Her dark eyes beamed with warmth and radiance and I fell instantly in love with her, as I had done the first time I laid eyes on her, and every time since. Madame was a true beauty of Abyssinian bloodlines with regal bearing, tea colored skin and almond shaped eyes that saw through you, right into your soul. She was truly magnetic, all of us loved her, obeyed her, would die for her. Madame was the lynchpin that held Lidran together, and the ruler of us all. Knowing I was about to disappoint her was almost too much for me to bear.
I’m afraid not, Madame,” I said, dropping into a short curtsey.
“Oh dear, I think we are going to have to feed you ourselves,” she said firmly, clasping her hands before her.
“No, madame, truly, I will hunt,” I promised lamely. I did not want to be fed by the House, being fed by the House gave one the lowest status possible, and though I already held that position, I did not want to remain there. In my current position, I was answerable to everyone, every moment of the day and night. It made my life miserable. I stared at the carpet as I thought these things, my lower lip pressed out in a classical pout.
“Come come child, it is not so bad, all things pass,” Madame said with good humor. She read feelings easily, and my emotions had always been like an open book to her. I was sure that she knew I would rather eat human food than feed on blood, but she was never so uncouth as to acknowledge my disgustingly base desires.
“Yes ma’am,” I mumbled. Peeking up from under my eyelashes, I saw that the other high ranking members of the house were looking at me with mild interest, and expressions that ranged from disgust to pity. I envied them the time they were able to spend in casual conversation with Madame, the only time I saw her was when she inquired about my progress, which had stalled months ago. The only conversations I enjoyed these days were short ones in which Andrea reminded me of my basic failings as a vampire.
“Take her to the kitchen and make sure she feeds,” Madame said over my head to Andrea. I blushed deeply with shame. Madame knew very well that I would not feed voluntarily. She was therefore deputizing Andrea as a surrogate nanny of sorts, and doing so in front of every big name in the House. I could not have been more mortified if she’d put me in diapers there and then.
“Yes Madame, I will Madame,” Andrea agreed efficiently, taking me by the arm. “Come on, Finn,” she urged. I followed her simply to escape the condescending gazes that were converging on me like a laser of shame.
The kitchen, as Madame had called it, was not really a kitchen. It contained no real food. Instead of stoves and pots and pans, there were only large cooling units containing many units of blood, and warming drawers that returned the frozen blood to a warm liquid state. Andrea retrieved a packet of O negative from the coolers and put it on to warm as I sat lonesomely at the large antique dining table, not at all looking forward to what would come next.
In less than a minute, the blood was ready. Andrea punctured the baggie with a metallic straw and handed it to me. “Slowly, but make sure you drink it all,” she said maternally. I wrinkled my nose, but obeyed, putting my lips to the straw and tentatively sucking at the contents.
Moments later, blood flowed rich and metallic into my mouth. “Bleugh!” I exclaimed, spitting out the first mouthful onto the table. Andrea gave me a warning look. “Drink it. Do not make me fetch Madame.”
I did not want her to fetch Madame, I was already embarrassed enough at being fed like an overgrown baby. I did not need censure from the Lady of the House as well. So I returned my lips to the straw and sucked down the bag as quickly as I possibly could. To me it tasted foul, but I could not deny the immediate regenerating effects it had on my body. In the reflection of the brushed steel cooling units I could see that my hair, which had become limp and dull over the weeks, became a deep, shiny auburn, and my eyes grew brighter and more violet than they had been in weeks. My mind felt clearer, my muscles stronger.
Andrea smiled as she watched the change come over me. “You’re pretty when you feed,” she complimented me, deftly cleaning up the spilled blood.
“Thanks,” I giggled, stifling a yawn. That was my other great embarrassment. Madame, the elders, Andrea, none of them needed to sleep. I however, became tired regularly and became unconscious, sometimes for up to six to eight hours at a time. It was unbearably embarrassing.
“Go to bed, Finn,” Andrea said indulgently. I briefly considered saying that I wasn’t tired, but this was no ordinary sleepiness, this was a tiredness that rose from deep within me and demanded to be fulfilled. If I did not go to bed, I’d end up passed out at the counter where everybody could see me. Better to indulge my weaknesses in private.
I waved goodnight to Andrea and stumbled up the steps of the great house, to my bedroom which was at the rear, far away from anything remotely important. At one time it would have been the scullery maid’s bedroom, but now it was mine, simply furnished with a simple cot bed that I absolutely adored.
“Tomorrow, I’ll hunt,” I promised myself after I had slipped off my clothes and commended myself into the care of the sheets. Outside, through tightly closed shutters, I heard the chirping of the birds beginning as they welcomed the new day. I allowed their sweet cries to aid me in escaping my eternal shame and carry me off into a deep, dark slumber.
I awoke as day was giving way to night, and even before I fully came to consciousness, I could feel a low level of excitement buzzing through the House. Something was happening, something good. In my mind, it felt as though effervescent bubbles of anticipation were running through all the coven, especially the elders.
I made my way out from my room to the main hall, where everyone who was anyone appeared to be gathered. It looked as though I’d just missed some major announcement. The elders were clustered in small groups, conversing with their typical restraint, and as usual, there was a tight group clustered around Madame, currying her favor. Even Andrea was caught up in discussion with a group of her friends in the far corner. Clearly whatever had been announced was important, but also clearly, nobody had thought to bother to wake me for it. A pang of rejection stung me at the thought, but I stiffened my resolve and pretended that I didn’t care. I knew I was fortunate to be tolerated here at all. If it wasn’t for the mark between my shoulder blades, I would have been run off the moment they found me, or worse.
Nobody so much as noticed me as I wandered out of the front door and made my way around to the side of the house, where my bike was locked against a cherry tree. I would hunt tonight, I had promised myself that. Perhaps it would be easier when nobody was around to watch.
Mounting my trusty metallic steed, I cycled down the country lane towards the city at break-neck speed. It would be nice to drive, but I didn’t have the funds for a car. Everyone in the coven had their own bank accounts, cycled into new names every 80 years or so to avoid suspicion. Madame had been kind enough to have one opened on my behalf, but it currently held less than a hundred dollars, not nearly enough to buy a car with. Still, I could ride a bicycle almost as fast as a car if I needed to. I didn’t, because I’d quickly discovered that bicycle tires tend to explode if you do that for too long, but it was comforting to know that it was possible.
Though it was miles to Christchurch City, it took me half an hour to get there. Passing through the warehouses and industrial areas of town I remembered my shameful weakness of the night before, but the closer I drew to the center of town, and the more people thronged around me, the more my spirits lifted. The elders of Lidran never ventured this far into the city, their disdain for humanity and their irrepressible blood lust prevented them. I wondered if I would become like them one day, isolated in the coven, unable to enjoy the world for fear that I would slaughter it.
I locked my bike up in the central city racks and took to the streets, wandering with the crowds that rushed hither and thither with the giddy joy of the weekend. It was a Friday night, and the sense of relief was palpable. I was thrilled to feel their easy joy, their uncomplicated happiness. These people were raucous, free, unconcerned by the specter of impending mortality. The elders, by contrast, had all eternity to enjoy, but they never seemed to enjoy anything at all.
The idea of killing one of these people and consuming them suddenly seemed heinous, so instead of picking someone to stalk, I decided to catch a movie. In the darkness of the theater, it was easy to pretend that these people were my friends, that the ladies and gentlemen partaking of these cinematic indulgences knew me and cared about me, would miss me when I was gone.
Waiting for the movie to starts, I sat alone towards the back, daydreaming about what it must be like to have friends and loved ones.
“Is this seat taken?”
I looked up to see a young man with a smile on his face. By the looks of him he was not long out of his teen years, he still carried the awkwardness of that stage of life, and the gangly limbs that didn’t quite seem to fit the rest of his body.
“Yeah, sure,” I replied. “I mean, it’s not taken,” I followed quickly, realizing that my first reply had made no sense at all.
“Thanks. It’s always weird coming here alone,” he said, folding his lanky frame into the chair next to mine. “My friends ditched me, jerks.”
“Yeah,” I agreed noncommittally. Panic was rising in my chest. I wasn’t supposed to be talking to people. I was supposed to be eating them. No good could come from this sort of casual chit chat. If anyone from Lidran saw me, I’d be dead meat. It was bad enough I refused to hunt. If they knew I was actively befriending humans, I doubted they’d let me out of the house.
“I’m Grayson,” he introduced himself as soda cans began to dance on the screen.
“I’m Finn.” It was strange to talk to him, a human. This close, he radiated warmth, and I could hear every beat of his strong young heart.
“Finn, huh, that’s a cool name for a girl.”
My monosyllabic replies didn’t seem to dissuade him in the slightest.
“How’d you get the name Finn?”
“I tricked other people into painting a fence for me.”
I didn’t think that he’d get the joke, but he did. “You’re funny, and literate. That’s rare. But you got it wrong. Tom Sawyer painted the fence. Huckleberry Finn floated down the river.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I guess you can call me Huckleberry, then,” I said as grimly as possible.
The movie started, and Grayson gave up his attempts at conversation. We awkwardly sat through the next three hours of formulaic romantic action comedy, neither of us laughing when the rest of the audience laughed. It seemed that we were both there for reasons other than the joy of another Hollywood blockbuster in which a handsome guy gets a pretty girl by merit of saving her from an explosive bus. In spite of the dismal quality of the movie, I still felt a sense of sadness when the credits began to roll because it meant that it was over, that I would have to return to the world.
I glanced over at Grayson and saw that he was slumping down in his seat, slumping so low that his head was below the back of the seat. He caught my quizzical look and grinned.
“Want to catch another one?”
“What do you mean?” I looked around, everyone else was filing out, the lights were coming back on, the bubblegum spell was broken.
Grayson’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “If you just stay here, you can catch the next one as well.”
I pondered that, and quickly came up with an objection. “What if it’s the same one?”
He looked at me under hooded eyes. “Still better than wandering the streets alone.”
I realized then that Grayson lived on the streets, that he too, was an outcast like me. It made sense. Like me, he was eager to reach out to anybody. Like me, he didn’t want the spell to end.
“Sure,” I agreed, slipping down into my seat.
The next movie turned out to be a CGI-stravaganza about insects. That, I enjoyed. Grayson seemed to as well, and as I sat there beside him, I felt a warmth of camaraderie and wondered what it would be like to have that all the time. It seemed that such relationships were not mine to have, being friendly with humans was out of the question, and those of my own kind either shunned me or treated me with intolerable pity.
Sadly, the insect movie ended all too soon and this time when the lights came on they heralded ushers with large vacuum cleaners and irritable expressions. So eager were they to get their jobs done and get home that they didn’t even wait for the credits to finish rolling before plugging in their contemptible machines and parading loudly up and down the aisles, sucking dirt, spilled candy, and all the fun of the place.
Grayson and I reluctantly made our way out through the now empty lobby. The scent of popcorn still hung in the air, but the machine no longer held its warm, buttery contents, instead it held dirty looking hot soapy water that sloshed about unappealingly inside the chamber.
We soon discovered that the middle point of the night had passed us by whilst we attempted to escaped in the modern fairy tales, and though we lingered in the lobby as long as possible, the hostile stares of those who had homes to go to soon chased us out onto the streets, where the atmosphere of the evening had changed.
No longer were people winsomely happy, now they were drunk, the entire place reeked of fermented fruit, and the eyes of those who passed us by were glazed with mating lust. I wrinkled my nose as scantily clad young ladies tottered unsteadily down the streets, pursued or accompanied by men leering, leeching, hanging on as best they could to the potential of some intimate female companionship.
“Well, it was nice meeting you Finn,” Grayson said. His eyes lingered hopefully on me, and I knew that he wanted me to go with him into the night, as a friend, that he did not want to walk on alone. But I could not go with him.
“Yeah, see you round,” I said coldly, disinterestedly.
There was a brief pang of hurt in his eyes, but it quickly passed. No doubt he was used to rejection.
“See you,” he said, the quivering smile on his face fading quickly as he turned and walked into the mass of humanity, his shoulders hunched, his head down.
Something, perhaps pity, made me follow him at a distance. There were still a couple of hours before the sun rose after all. I had time, and I was curious about the camaraderie we had formed so quickly in a few hours of shared escapism. He walked quickly through the streets, making his way out of the civilized reaches of town and into the areas that were abandoned by night. I slipped into the shadows to avoid being detected as he hurried between pools of street light, looking afraid and alone.
I thought about making my presence known, but before I could, I sensed another mind nearby in the darkness. A clear mind, a sterile mind. One of my own kind, yet not familiar. My stomach grew wretched as I realized that there could be only one reason for its presence. Grayson was the perfect prey. Alone, unloved, unwanted. Nobody would notice if he disappeared.
It was hungry this mind, and approaching quickly. It seemed not to have noticed me, it was too focused on the sacrificial lamb hurrying along the sidewalk, his untied shoelaces flopping under the long pant legs of his baggy jeans.
Then I saw him. The quintessential vampire, a tall, broad man wearing a dark leather jacket that highlighted his powerful shoulders. His hair flowed down below his shoulders and his slightly antiquated goatee and mustache were trimmed neatly for dramatic effect. He was stalking down the other side of the street, staying just a step or two behind Grayson, out of his line of sight. He would be waiting for the moment where he would certainly not be noticed by any onlookers, I knew that much. Andrea had taught me the rules of hunting and drummed that one into me. It would not do for there to be witnesses.
I grew angry at the site of the man. Was there no small pleasure that a vampire would not destroy? Was there no target too miserable and innocent to escape their blood lust? I knew one thing. I would not let Grayson die at the hands of this vampire. He was not one of Lidran. He had no right to be hunting here, and he certainly would not hunt the boy who had tried to befriend me. I was afraid though, this male was powerful, I could feel it in the stillness of his mind. He would not be pleased. He could harm me.
The three of us continued walking for a long time, and city buildings began to turn back into industrial areas. This was where he would make his move, I knew that. I also knew that I could not fight him off once he struck. He would have to be pre-empted, it was the only way. My decision was made. He might kill me, but there was no point living if I was to watch every good thing in the world fall prey to the darkness of my kind.
I crossed the street quickly at a fast run, the sort of run that would have been undetectable to the human eye. It was thoroughly detectable to the male however. He caught my movement the moment I began running, drew back and watched me come on. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grayson continue onwards, unaware of what was happening behind him. I would buy him a little extra time to get to safety at the very least.
“Hello,” I said cordially, keeping my distance from the man. Up close, he was supremely handsome, like most of our species. His chiseled jaw and flat, strong cheekbones gave him the appearance of an ancient gladiator who had been let loose in a leather goods store.
The look he gave me could have frozen flesh to stone. He seemed startled by my appearance, as if I were some ghastly apparition appearing out of the night. That pleased me, he was off guard, more likely to fall prey to deception.
“Greetings,” he replied, his voice deep and formal as his black eyes looked me over and I knew, found me wanting. Unlike the other members of Lidran, who dressed with precise formality, unlike the fellow himself, who nigh gleamed in the night, I wore a ratty chequered shirt and rough black jeans with holes in them. “You are a strange one,” he noted, his gaze fixed on my eyes.
“You have no idea,” I replied simply. Perhaps I could fool him into thinking I was more powerful than I really was. Even Madame had taken some time to discern that I was not a threat, and he was surely no more powerful or knowledgeable than her.
He folded his arms over his chest, making the leather he wore creak. “And to what do I owe the honor?” he said, his tone implying that this was no honor at all.
“This is merely a courtesy to let you know that these are my hunting grounds.”
An expression of comprehension came over his face, but still he cocked his head at me, his long glossy hair falling over his shoulder as he did. “I was under the impression that these were Lidran’s grounds.”
I breathed an inner sigh of relief. He was merely a visitor, perhaps a nomad passing through.
“Those to the north of the river belong to Lidran. These belong to me.”
“I see,” he said guardedly. “And who are you?”
“I am Lady Finn,” I announced with the self important airs the elders at home often put on.
“You do not dress like a lady,” he noted rather rudely.
“It is a coarse fellow who judges another by his or her clothing,” I lectured him sternly, recalling Madame’s mannerisms.
For a moment his eyes narrowed, and I thought that I might have angered him. Fortunately, his expression relaxed as he laughed and dipped a small bow to me. “You are quite right of course, I apologize for my rudeness. I will not hunt in your territory.”
I nodded with a polite smile, relieved that Grayson would be safe. “Please, go in peace.”
“Adieu, Lady Finn, perchance we will meet again,” he said with a wicked grin.
I watched as he turned and ambled back towards town. He walked with a casual, though somehow aristocratic gait and I found myself wondering if we really would meet again. He seemed okay really, at least to the extent that he had not decided to tear me apart and make my hunting grounds his own. Something about him piqued my curiosity. He was not like the elders of Lidran. He had smiled at me and he had listened to me. Perhaps there was an alliance to be made there. It was too late to make his acquaintance any better though, the night was dark and he had quickly disappeared into the shadows, where I felt his mind no more.
For a while I simply stood on the street corner giggling with glee. I had done it. I had really done it. I had saved someone who deserved to be saved. It felt good. It felt great. It was only when the slow dawn began that I realized I had been out all night and needed to get home quickly. As Andrea delighted in telling me, I was not strong enough to withstand the sun yet.
I ran back into town, grabbed my bike out of the rack and peddled towards the mansion at top speed. I could smell the rubber on the tires burning for the last few miles of the journey, but they held together, and burnt tires were better than painful UV burns that would last many weeks.
It was a race against time, against the sun itself, but I was too thrilled with myself to be truly concerned, it was even a little bit fun to risk my neck for the greater good. With a celebratory whoop of joy I thundered down the gravel path to the mansion, skidded to a halt, tossed my bike up on the porch and dashed inside.
That was when things started to go wrong.
Andrea grabbed me by the scruff of the neck the moment I walked through the front door. “Where have you been?” she hissed, not bothering to listen to my stammered reply. “Go and feed, Madame wants everyone looking their best.”
“Why?” I asked as she pushed me towards the kitchen.
She sighed with annoyance. “Really Finn, the announcement was made to everyone. We are welcoming a guest from France today.”
“I didn’t hear the announcement. Nobody bothered to get me,” I snapped at her as I grabbed a bag of blood out of the fridge and tossed it into the warmer petulantly.
She rolled her eyes, but did not answer. I knew it was because there wasn’t a good answer. She was supposed to have gotten me and she didn’t. I contented myself with giving her a dirty look whilst I waited for my unwanted meal to be ready. Moments later, the bell on the warmer chimed and I grabbed out the baggie, stuck an alloy straw in it and began suckling tentatively.
Satisfied that I was feeding, Andrea clearly felt that her duty was over. “This wouldn’t be such a problem if you weren’t such a baby,” she taunted me, spinning on her heel and making her way back out to the grand foyer.
The insult was too much to bear, and I followed her angrily, still sucking at the unpleasant blood, which further depleted my reserves of goodwill towards my kind.
“Oh yeah, well you’re a dried up old crone!” I shouted blindly into the cavern of the foyer.
“Finn!” Madame’s voice cut across my screaming and I stopped dead in my tracks, a trickle of blood escaping my mouth as I peeked around the corner and took in the sight before me.
First there was Madame, looking beautiful, refined and poised in a golden gown. Her expression was one of pure displeasure, and I trembled to see it, but that was not the only thing that concerned me. By her side was a tall gentleman, a gentleman with long flowing hair and devilish good looks. The same gentleman who I had convinced I was a lady just an hour earlier. He was looking at me with a stunned expression, taking in my entirely disheveled appearance, which had not been improved by an incredibly fast bike ride home. My shirt was askew, my hair stuck up at odd angles, and of course, I was sucking at a baggie of blood. I may as well have come out wearing a diaper and drinking out of a sippy cup.
“Well well well,” he murmured softly.
I pulled the straw out of my mouth quickly and searched for something to say. The best I could come up with was not helpful at all, but I said it anyway, just to fill the horrible void of silence that had formed.
My humiliation was so complete that when Madame sent me to my room, I barely noticed the additional burning disgrace.
Finn the Devourer was published on Spanking Romance this year under three seperate stories: Finn the Devourer, Finn the Devourer: Identity , and Finn the Devourer: Captive now published together in this fully-completed novel!
Pale as the moon and a pretty dark imp, Finn is a subpar, mischievous, vampire. Left as a foundling outside the House of Lidran, she is tolerated by the long-suffering elders who regard her as something of an oddity. After all, what kind of vampire has violet eyes, prefers hamburgers to human blood, needs to sleep at least eight hours a day and doesn’t remember how she came to be a vampire at all?