Me on the Menu

They came for me when the darkness pressed thickest against the bars. Several figures, two more prominently cloaked in the cover of night. They opened the door without a key or a word.

One held a familiar lantern. This time, no pretense of actual fire. Its flame burned an oily blue, casting no warmth.

"You do realize electricity exists? It's not witchcraft." I remarked. No sooner than the words left my lips, pain seared my skull. Then ceased, as if snuffed out by another source.

The figure with the lantern tilted its head as if it noted the change, but no query followed.

I was led.

No.

I was paraded through long, cold halls etched with what looked like scripture I could not read.

The language felt wrong. Unholy.

Hand-painted murals shifted, depicting scenes of combat between vampires and werewolves. Women burned, while monsters knelt before winged kings. The central figure, a winged creature with a sigil burned in its chest, pulsed in my purview. Her actions looked like divine retribution. I couldn't take my eyes off it until we reached a door carved from obsidian.

The handle resembled the curvature of a human spine.

My pace halted, self-preservation in mind.

"What is this place?" I asked the procession which accompanied me.

Instead of answering, I was shoved into the room. Rows of candles and goblets rested on a stone slab, reminiscent of the ancient castles I had observed in Europe. I envisioned a sommelier with an exaggerated nose lurking inside. He would nod solemnly while offering a curated selection of wines to the next guest. It might have been amusing if I hadn't realized why it felt so familiar. A chill ran through me.

They had taken me to a tasting room.

And I was pretty damn confident it wasn’t the bold-flavored, tannin-rich Cabernet Sauvignon that made my face blush, nor was it my favorite, the fruity yet accessible Merlot from the tasting list that would be sampled this evening.

The room was cathedral-like. Lines of stone swept upward. Tall, arched ceilings formed intriguing junctures, scattering the moonlight that shone through stained-glass windows. There were more candles, and this time… skulls.

Lots and lots of human skulls. Carefully placed with an epitaph upon each.

In the center stood a stone pedestal. A carved wooden throne flanked it. Its frame was scorched black from fire. Not seated, but enthroned, was the woman who greeted me in the dungeon doorway.

This time, she regarded me as an unappetizing meal. "Prudence." The name coiled forth like smoke from her lips. "Come forward."

I remained still. My strength returning with each heartbeat since I passed through the hallway. " My name is Lydia, and I don't recall RSVPing to a tasting ceremony. "

A whisper among those present rose. Their whispers telling me that to defy the woman was to court death.

The prospective queen exhaled deeply, her capacity for patience evidently constrained. "Refuse, and I shall present you to the newly transformed, rather than to those with more discerning preferences. Alternatively, you may face the fate that resides below. It consumes at an exceedingly leisurely pace."

Eyeing the skull bearing epitaphs, I reluctantly placed one foot in front of the other. Maybe their smart mouths had ended them. Still, each step was a small surrender. I shortened my step to a half pace. I would never surrender.

Another figure, if you could call it that, appeared from the shadows. He resembled a crypt keeper. His name reverberated in the room without being spoken.

Receiving the leader’s blessing, he approached me with a chalice made of crystal and a delicate silver needle. "Worry not, child. It will not harm."

"Fabulous, because it's not like being in a room full of vile blood sucking vipers could be any less worrisome." I made eye contact with the woman on the throne as the needle bit into my skin with a hiss, sharper than betrayal.

It should have stung, but the pain dissolved before I could name it. In its place, an unexpected warmth.

The man who wielded the needle completed his duty with an unsettling calm. His thin skin crinkled with each precise movement. Collected the droplets in a chalice, like he was uncorking me, a fresh wine from their cellar.

My blood swirled darkly, thicker than it should be, paired with whatever medium they tested with. To my eyes, it didn't even look human anymore.

I felt like screaming at them for stealing the little life I had left. Instead, I used what I knew best. "If you wanted a sample, you could've just asked."

The blood transfixed the vampires surrounding me. Their gazes locked on the goblet as though it were an elixir of great worth. Perhaps even the fountain of youth.

In retrospect, to them, I suppose it was.

The woman on the throne stood. Her dark and rippling robes caught the candlelight.

She was alive, but not like the others. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, her hunger faded.

She descended the dais, each step echoing.

"Strange," she murmured. "Your blood. It has a noise. A note I haven't heard since-“ Her words trailed off like ash in the wind. She took the chalice and sipped. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Passing the vessel to the next vampire, they sipped and doubled over, gasping, tears in their eyes from the memory of before.

The woman smiled grimly, wondering what made Lydia’s blood drinkable by some but not others.

Another couldn’t even hold the blood. His hands blistered as though he held fire.

I stood straighter and smiled sweetly. "Not quite what you were expecting?"

“Unfinished. A vessel half-poured.” The woman snarled, revealing the heart within her. “Blood stock, near useless. I’ve found rats in the cellar with better quality blood.”

"I'd hate to be predictable." I smiled sweetly, unaware that this could mean my death.

The air pulsed with tension, and beneath it, deeper, I felt a strange emotion I couldn't fathom. A pull? A murmur beneath the beating of my own heart? It was not a voice, exactly. It was like a presence outside myself, watching and waiting, wings rustling in the dark.

The woman paced, then stepped back, anger flashing in her eyes. "Throw her in the chambers below. Let the lesser ones taste. If they die, so be it. Let’s find out whose line she belongs to.”

The guards moved to seize me. Like liquid light, a new warmth spread through me, pulsing beneath my skin, warm and golden, as though an inner well spring had sprung up to replenish what had been taken.

I didn't resist, but didn't bow like the others did.

As they dragged me this time to the pit, I looked upward at the stained glass. Though the night, I could have sworn one shard of pure white light pierced the room.