Chapter 19: OSCAR; A REBEL

One thing Cassian has realized while being in the Lancasters’ mansion is that no one enters the large library. It is an unused space with many books covered in dust and cobwebs, and through those books, he has learned a lot about vampires. In here, he realizes the walls are not listening. Cassian feels at peace in this old, dusty library.

“Tell about the rebels?”

That’s the first thing he asks the moment Oscar steps into the library.

You see, the library isn't just a place for gathering all the information about the vampires; it's the only place Cassian can have a conversation with Oscar without the walls listening.

The vampire freezes for a moment, the glint in his eyes dimming for a moment at the unexpected question, but he moves closer to Cassian. “Where did you hear about the rebels?”

Cassian shrugs as if they are talking about the weather as he pulls out a heavy book from one of the shelves. “I overheard Alastor talking with some vampires. They came to deliver a message.”

“What message?” Oscar asks too quickly, causing Cassian to give him a sharp look, but he covers the sudden uneasy look with a chuckle and scratches the back of his head as if it’s nothing. “I just got too eager to know. What was the message?”

“The High Lord sent a message: Alastor is in charge of deciding what happens to the rebel they caught. So tell me, who are these rebels?”

Oscar doesn’t answer right away. He stands there with shoulders tense and eyes fixed on Cassian in a way that makes Cassian’s skin prickle, while the easy grin he usually wears is gone, replaced by something guarded and cold. Cassian doesn't need to be a genius to know the vampire is hiding something and that Cassian is going to find out.

“The Rebels are vampires who refused the hierarchy,” he finally answers. “They don’t accept blood rankings, and they don’t bow to High Lords or hoard blood like currency.”

Cassian’s brows knit together. “So they’re idealists.”

Oscar lets out a short, humorless laugh. “No, they’re starving and simply want to survive. They live off scraps, and they are not allowed to hunt animals for food because they are lower class. They take whatever they can get, while high-ranking vampires keep all the blood to themselves and don't care if others starve to death. Every day they grow weaker while those so-called high-ranking vampires get stronger.”

There’s bitterness in his voice and anger that refuses to hide with each word that comes out of his mouth, and that tells Cassian something.

“So what do these rebels want?” Cassian finds himself asking even though he already knows the answer.

“They want blood, the chance to hunt and feed, and the right to live like every other vampire,” comes Oscar’s reply.

A low, bitter laugh rips out of Cassian. “So they are just as pathetic as humans; the only difference is that they are large in numbers. What’s going to happen when every one of them dies, do they also become extinct like humans?” Cassian doesn't mean to laugh, but it's funny.

It’s funny to know vampires have their own share of troubles. He doesn’t sympathize with these rebels; they will also kill humans just to get full.

“Do the rebels think they are better than the high-ranking vampires? They also need blood to survive, and where does that blood come from? They have to kill humans and animals; they are not some saints.” Cassian continues.

Oscar clenches his hands into fists on his side, while his eyes darken even more. “They may not be saints, but at least they don’t go after humans and are even willing to help humans.”

“Is that why you’re helping me?” Cassian cuts him off, and instantly, Oscar’s eyes widen. Cassian continues, pinning the vampire with a stare. “Are you helping me because you are starving? Am I just some hunt, or because I am one of those humans, you rebels are willing to help?”

Oscar unclenches his hands. “I am not a rebel.”

Cassian takes a step forward. “And why don’t I believe that, Oscar?”

Oscar’s eyes suddenly glint with anger. “You can believe what the hell you want to believe. If I were after your blood, I would have killed you the moment I saw you,” he snaps, and with another word, he turns and walks out of the library with brisk steps.

As if running away is going to make Cassian think otherwise. Cassian snorts and goes to look for a new book to read, but then, he feels a presence behind, causing him to freeze, and sharply, he turns, eyes immediately landing on Alastor, who’s standing against the wall with his back pressed to it and his arms crossed over his chest.

Cassian’s eyes widen. “Alastor,” he breathes out. How long has the vampire lord been standing there? How much did he hear because Cassian is sure he heard something? “How long have you been standing there?” he asks.

“Is that your little friend?” Alastor gestures toward the door Oscar just left. Then he pushes himself off the wall and approaches Cassian with a piercing gaze that sends a shiver down Cassian’s spine.

Cassian shakes his head at the question. “H-he is just a servant that helps clean the library,” he lies through his teeth as Alastor comes to stand in front of him.

Alastor studies his face. “You are not a great liar, do you know that?” he says, and Cassian’s eyes widen even further, panic coursing through his bones.

“I’m not lying,” he blurts.

Alastor nods. “Very well, I will call him to find out,” he says, and then he turns, heading for the door, but out of impulse, Cassian does the first thing that comes to his mind; he immediately reaches out to grab Alastor’s hand, but whines instead as the sharp fabric cuts through his finger.

“Ouch,” he cries out, immediately shoving the bleeding finger into his mouth to suck off the blood, but when he looks at Alastor, his face goes pale with horror.

Alastor doesn’t move; he doesn’t need to as his gaze drops to Cassian’s mouth, then to the finger between his lips and the thin line of red blooming against his pale skin. Suddenly, the air in the library changes too dramatically, and Cassian realizes his mistake too late.

He pulls his finger from his mouth, but the damage is done: the metallic scent has already spilled into the room, sharp and unmistakably human, as Alastor shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, filling his senses with the fresh and fantastic smell of human blood.

Cassian’s heart slams so hard it hurts, panic exploding in his chest. “I—” Cassian stammers, backing up a step. “It was an accident… I’m sorry.”

And when Alastor opens his eyes, they are a shade of dark, blood-red that makes Cassian gasp in fear and horror.

“Leave,” Alastor suddenly says through gritted teeth, his hand clenching into a tight fist at his side while his eyes flicker between red and their normal color as if fighting his instinct.

“Alastor…” Cassian starts, fear in his tone.

“LEAVE!!” Alastor growls louder, and Cassian doesn't need to be told the third time as he flings the books in his hold and scampers out of the library.