I was given the chance to speak to a repeat Blood Games prize, who we’ll call Quinn, about the process.
“The risk really depends on who you know and how smart you are,” he explained to me in a high-end cocktail lounge in downtown UW late one evening. He wore what I can only describe as a “high fashion” outfit full of mismatched prints, the occasional strip of real fur, and a glittering diamond necklace around his throat. All of it, including the healing bite just above the stones, must have cost more than my entire year’s salary.
He’s built a remarkably successful business out of the Games with his partner, who organizes them.
“The biggest risk is obviously that they’re gonna expect things from you that you aren’t giving away. Companionship, sex, even bites. None of that is necessarily on the table. All that’s promised is blood.” He pointed to his neck. “I have it in my contract that my winner is only allowedonebite. Everything else is given through needle and tube.”
I was fascinated by this. “Do you stop them from biting you because you don’t want to go through withdrawal at the end of the contract?”
No one could blame him. Regular exposure to vampire venom is a legendarily blissful experience, but it isn’t all feel-good chemicals. It’s an evolutionary weapon. A vampire injects venom every time they bite, which not only makes their anchor’s blood poisonous to other vampires, but it changes the chemistry of their bodies so they can produce vampiric off-spring.
And, of course, it causes horrific symptoms of withdrawal. The sickness that comes with it is so bad that one in ten peoplewill go into shock and require hospitalization, while many others experience months of muscle pain, nausea, insomnia, mood swings, hair and tooth loss, as well as severe disruptions to their reproductive cycles.
It’s a handy incentive to keep your vampire mate close, that’s for sure.
But Quinn shook his head. “Not really. I mean, obviously that’s a factor, but it’s more of a business decision. If you keep them wanting, they keep coming back, and there’s more motivation to stick to the rules.”
He told me that he makes a good living volunteering for the Games once a year but that he’s not “special.”
“There are some prizes that go for hundreds of thousands, even millions,” he explained, palms up like he worried I wouldn’t believe him. “Rare blood types, famous people, anchors from aristocratic families. You name it. Those are the Games that getreallynasty. It’s not just the competition, but the betting around it. People try to fix fights, or even sneak out with the prize if they think they can’t win. The circles I run in are way more relaxed.”
“Would you say it’s a dangerous tradition?”
Quinn tilted his head from one side to another, weighing his answer. “It can be, definitely, but it’s better than the alternative. I think everyone has put a lot of thought into how to do it right, to keep it fair and only for people who really want to participate. I’ve never had any problems. My healthcare is paid for, my rent is covered, and I’ve made so many friends doing this.”
I sensed thebutbefore it left his handsome mouth. “We’re talking about vampires,” he added in a quieter voice, almost like he was afraid of being overheard, “and we’re talking about the syndicate. You’ve got to be smart.”
“What’s one way it could go wrong?” I asked, thinking I already knew the answer. To me, it seemed clear enough: that one might end up in a violent situation.
He surprised me, though, when he immediately answered, “If a vampire gets too attached.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “There’s nothing more dangerous than a vampire in love.”
Ah,I thought, understanding at last.
Love is, at its heart, desperation. It is the need for another being, the utter impossibility of existing day to day without them. No wonder Quinn thinks that’s more threatening than anything else.
Hunger for blood can drive a person to do terrible things, but a craving for the soul is far more dangerous — and much less easily satisfied.
ONE
Normally,she preferred a house to be empty.
There was nothing worse than trying to clean a house when the owners were hovering over your shoulder. It made everyone uncomfortable, and the days felt even longer than they already tended to either because she was being micromanaged or forced into painful smalltalk. One of the few reasons she enjoyed working for vampires was because they tended to prefer their help do their jobs during the day, when they were locked away in their sun-proof bedrooms.
But that wasn’t why she likedthisparticular home to be empty. No, that had nothing to do with cleaning and everything to do with…him.
Francesca adjusted her grip on her bucket of supplies and the mop she carried in her other hand. She knew instantly, without even seeing him, that he was in the home. Something about the air changed. It was charged like the moments before a storm, making it heavy with just his presence.
She was pretty sure he didn’t wear cologne — Maxine said vampires didn’t like strong artificial scents — but she thought she could still somehow smell him. Woody and clean and rich like molasses, it made her toes curl in worn out sneakers. If everthere was a scent she wished she could spritz on her pillow, that was it.
Stop,she firmly instructed herself. There was plenty for her to worry about without adding her ridiculous feelings to the mix.
The vampire in penthouse 1306 was simply a consummate charmer. And devastatingly handsome. And approximately one thousand levels out of her league.
Normally that bothered her more, but today her mind really was occupied with more pressing concerns. The hollow of her right elbow ached a little as she hefted her bucket, reminding her of the half dozen blood draws she’d been talked into doing.