Chapter 5

Cleo buried her face in her hair as she kept pushing the half empty wine glass in circles. Penelope must have found out and perhaps broken the news to Alec, who wouldn't hesitate to skin her alive the moment he sets his eyes on her, she reasoned. The thought of what Alec would do to her made her skin crawl.

She let out a heavy sigh and then gulped down what was left in the wine glass. Spending the night in a bar to save herself for the next few hours didn't seem to be a bad idea, besides, all she needed to do was compel the bartender.

“Had a rough day?”

A rather weird voice cut through her thoughts.

“I don't seem to recognize you.” —She narrowed her gaze and swept her eye up and down the figure before her.

In the last century, she hadn't seen a man well-dressed in a black suit with a shade of blue muffler around his neck. Fashion does evolve, that much she knew. However, she was also certain it would never come to this.

“I didn't catch your name.” she said, a shadow of dismay crossing her face.

“Pardon my manners.” he said, holding out an arm. “I'm Davy, and you're?”

“I was just about to leave.” —she touched his face and traced her fingers over his features, then vanished.

“Too good to be true.” —he clenched his arm into a fist and shoved it into his pockets.

Meanwhile, back at the Cunningham's quarters.

“I know you're here, and I can hear your heartbeat.” Cleo carefully strode into the quarters. “Just show yourself already.”

She raked her eyes up and down the place, hoping not to stumble on Alec in the darkest of corners.

“Show yourself already!” —a sudden note of fear crept into her voice.

“Very well then.” Penelope strode out of the dark. “We need to talk.”

Cleo scoffed then replied. “That was so uncalled-for, besides what if I choose not to?”

“What if you choose not to?” —Penelope laughed at the word. “I rather you come with me while I'm still being nice.”

“Like I've got an option.” she said, breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

It was best to answer to Penelope than Alec, who might not spare a minute in listening to her.

“You should sit.” Penelope urged, filling two wine glasses.

“There will be no need for that. Or would you compel me to do so? I guess not.” Cleo said, a sudden tinge of confidence rising within her.

“Cleo,” —Penelope clutched her arm and stared deep into her eyes just moments after she fastened the bolt of the door. “I know your intentions towards our brother were good, but…”

“I was stupid.” —Cleo turned away. “You don't have to remind me of that, I know the lot.”

“No, that's not what I meant.” Penelope said, embracing her from behind. “I know you fed Annie your blood, or why else would her body refuse to burn? I also know you're doing all of this because you seek the love of our brother.”

Cleo felt a sudden coldness that hits at her core, which prompted her to face Penelope.

“All my life I've fought for one thing, which came to you on a platter of gold. So, what would you have me do?” —her voice was laced with emotion. “I just wanted to do something for him. And Annie? She doesn't deserve to die.”

A watery smile creased Penelope's face as she cupped Cleo's with her arm. “You did well. It was something even I wouldn't have done. I just don't want you to get hurt. There's a reason he doesn't approve of us feeding her our blood, and we must respect that.”

“Now I get it,” —Cleo broke free from Penelope's grip. “The reason he doesn't want us to feed her our blood is because something's wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” Penelope asked, crinkling her face in confusion.

“Don't act like you don't know!” Cleo said, her voice almost rising to a scream. “You were there and you saw it too. I fed her my blood, but she didn't come alive, is this what you meant by getting hurt?”

All this while Penelope stood, speechless.

Cleo gave a long pained look, then broke the eye contact and breezed out.