Page 104 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

“Oh, but they did,” Jared said.

“They denied us a feast,” Emmeline added.

Bastian didn’t understand. “A feast?”

Ling bent forward, her face skeletal as she whispered, “They summoned us, and the reward was two measly vampires. They might as well have spat in our faces. They will suffer for their impudence.”

Bastian still didn’t understand. They weren’t making any sense. He wanted to throw himself at their stupid dispassionate faces. Instead, he threw himself at the van doors. Rammed his shoulder against them. He had to do something. He had to help De Luca and Whitby.

The doors trembled under his weight but held strong. He prepared to try again, but then he sensed a change in the back of the van.

The air had thinned. Cooled.

Bastian felt it in the way you feel the sudden cold when stepping into the shade on a hot summer’s day.

He peered over his shoulder at the Obliterati, wondering if they had felt it, too, and realized that the Obliterati looked different.

They had gathered together, floating as one in the middle of the van, and they were staring at him. Their eyes had doubled in size. Six glistening, milky orbs shone at him with lethal intent. Their mouths had stretched wide, revealing full sets ofrazor-sharp teeth. A line of drool stretched from Jared’s chin to the floor of the van.

Bastian trembled as he realized thattheywere what had caused the sudden change in the atmosphere.

As one, the Obliterati floated closer to him, gnarled hands outstretched.

“What are you doing?” Bastian asked, pressing himself back against the side of the van.

“The time—” Jared gurgled.

“Has come—” Emmeline added.

“For you to face the True Death,” Ling said, her voice a low, excited purr.

Bastian struggled to comprehend. He had thought they were transporting him to his sentencing, where he would be pressed to death, just like the vampire from Whitby’s story.

Three hollow clicks resounded through the van as the council’s jaws unhinged. Their mouths gaped wider, sharklike teeth glinting white, and Bastian felt sick as he realized what was about to happen.

The Obliterati were going to feed on him.

They were going to drink him dry.

Hewas the feast.

It suddenly dawned on him what the Obliterati did. They didn’t come to a town because they felt duty bound to protect humans from killer vampires—they came to feed.

And vampires were their prey.

The reward was two measly vampires, Ling had said of Vernazza. Bastian realized that they had expected a feast. An infestation of vampires that would slake their thirst. That was why they had set fire to the town. As punishment for their failure to provide a suitable number of vampire victims.

A chill crept through Bastian as the council’s yellow eyesbulged at him. He had no idea what would happen to him if they drained him. Would he die?Trulydie? Or would he be reduced to a withered husk? A living corpse devoid of the slightest hint of life?

He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want the Obliterati anywhere near him.

He struggled back across the bench.

“I taste horrible,” he said, desperately reaching for something that would hold them at bay. “Bitter as a pickled lemon. Ask anybody!”

They weren’t listening.

“Stop,” Bastian pleaded. “Whatever you’re about to do—”