Blood.

A silent craving that lingered on the tip of my tongue, settled in the back of my throat and deprived the pit of my stomach.

The craving had been circling for days, swarming my mind with ardent desire. It was an unfeasible task to ignore the whispering that danced in the back of my head, chanting 'feed, feed, feed' on an endless loop. Over the course of the week that I had been dry, it had become progressively louder; verging on agonising.

I vividly remember what hunger felt like as a human. The laughably crude pangs that twisted my gut then were pale imitations of the hollow void that demanded mind-numbing feasts now. After a few days of hunger as a human, those pangs would dull - the need to eat was still there, but your body would give up, simply eating away at itself. The hunger now - that was a different beast that chose to eat away at the mind.

I breathe in the cold air as we walk wordlessly down the street; our nearest machine in one of the more rundown areas of Eastern. The cobbled streets wind through the heart of the zone passing worn down colourful buildings. The buildings felt ancient despite the city barely being fifty years old; their facades were worn smooth by the more unfortunate weather. The street itself, a river of grey stone flows onwards, carrying the echoes of footsteps long gone. It was barely past midnight but the comfort of darkness had already draped over the city. The vast blackness that expanded across the sky and engulfed all of the previous light was almost absent from stars, but a few dull ones flickered every now and then. The streetlights dotted along the road were misted by the snow that was lightly falling and ice had blanketed the pathway ahead of us.

I looked over to my companion on this walk, Kara, who was lumbering along by my side, placing one foot directly in front of the other. Her lips have been in a straight, emotionless line since early this morning - they were usually plump and pulled into a genuinely happy smile. The hunger that was plaguing both of us kept us in a tight grip of unhappiness. It was hard to evoke anything when starvation was nipping at every square inch of you.

Despite this, Kara was a warm woman, with brown skin and thick, curly hair in a deep chocolate shade that cascaded down her shoulders and back in natural waves. A small ceramic white daisy was pinned behind her ear, partially hidden by her flowing hair. Her large, almond-shaped eyes held a natural intensity, their current orange hues only amplifying the shimmering glare. Kara's face was slender and sculpted, with high cheekbones that caught the light and gave her a natural glow. If I didn't know better, I would think she was crafted like a vampire, her graceful lines evoking a hauntingly timeless aura.

"Hurry," She had hissed through her teeth. The eagerness to speed up was one I shared, but Kara was younger in the bloodline and that came with a more ferocious need to feed. It was a need that I understood, having gone through its deepened effects near the beginning of my life. It had lost its edge on me as the years had gone by - I could go for longer periods without blood and keep my composure; she could not.

It wasn't just the starvation that had been causing her steady decline in mood; The machines that had been adapted to provide for our kind operated on a first come first basis. A machine that had been filled to its capacity would often feed the majority of the bloodline it had been allocated to - the issue was what it was filled with.

Every bloodline had a preferred blood type, likely tied to the origins of the line and the specific prey those origins favored. Our bloodline, the Seventeenth, had a distinct preference for B Negative. In my encounters with our origin, he was invariably surrounded by humans with B Negative blood, drawn to him by an irresistible attraction. None of those humans survived beyond their meeting with us. This preference frequently led to a shortage of B Negative blood, as the supply was quickly depleted as soon as it became available.

Kara and I would leave for the outskirts ahead of most of the bloodline in order to swoop the best packs for ourselves. This brought a need to be cautious; a need that is often missing when you try to collect the scraps of what is left. Although the bloodline was close, it was a dysfunctional family with outcasts. Some of the line was more than happy to rip another apart to get what they desired most; blood. The consequences of this were usually severe - but blood came from lust, which tried its best to hide the punishment that loomed.

We approached the vending machine cautiously, appreciating our status as the first to arrive—a fortunate rarity. Positioned near the western edge of the zone, it was nestled in a small grove where previous residents had used the natural breeze flowing through connecting alleyways to dry their laundry quickly. The machine itself was situated beneath a starkly bare tree that had never flowered. Surrounding it were homes that had been completely gutted by fire, their exteriors barely surviving the flames, yet still standing—a remarkably intact facade, offering us a discreet spot to access and more importantly, hide our essential food source.

A sturdy metal shutter covered the front, safeguarding the precious contents within. When these machines were first introduced, they were frequently broken into and emptied almost immediately. The solution was a cast-iron shutter that encased the contents and only opened after a countdown had completed.

In the top right corner, a small red display slowly counted down. Until it reached zero, the keypad and credit entry panel remained inactive. The machine stood on a cement block stained with dried blood. The hungrier we were, the more likely we were to tear into the bag as soon as it touched our skin, causing the contents to spill everywhere. It was surprising that the machine ever managed to stay clean; even I had splattered blood on it more than once.

3:04. 3:03. 3:02.

The unbearable seconds ticked by, each passing digit intensifying the agonizing thirst. This was the earliest we'd ever reached the machine, which only heightened my anxiety; there was still plenty of time for others to catch up with us. We couldn't count on hearing, "You were first, go ahead," from anyone else; nothing positive slipped out a vampires mouth in the heat of hunger.

"Pick your poison," I murmured, eyes fixed on the changing numbers. Kara, beside me, fidgeted restlessly, rocking between her heels and toes. She ignored my question, her head darting in every direction, watching for any sign of the others. She was worried. I was worried.

2:23. 2:22. 2:21.

I lacked the strength for an altercation, and despite Kara's intense hunger, it rarely translated into effective sparring. Not that it mattered; if a fight broke out, I would gladly take it on myself. There's a protective instinct that comes with a bloodline, compelling you to fight for others; something deep inside your mind moves you instinctively. This urge is even stronger when it involves those you've bitten.

Kara was the first and only person I had turned, and it had only been a few months since then - which only meant I had a hyper-focused desire to keep her safe. Two golden rules in the City governed biting: a vampire cannot bite within two years of its creation, and a vampire cannot bite an unwilling person.

Humans could apply to be bitten within the central zone, an arduous process involving three months of therapy, two health checks, and countless forms. During this process, they often chose which bloodline they wanted to join and, more often than not, who they wanted to change them. Not that either of their choices had to accept them; most of the time there'd be a substantial wait before they'd find a match.

The only other legal option is volunteering. A recently introduced system the leaders of Eternity had introduced in order to ease the growing strain between vampire and human relations. Every two years there would be a "volunteer" program where any human being can agree to either turning or if need be, dying. I imagined it'd be a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Each "volunteer" would be assigned a bloodline, and a ceremony would take place. The origin of the bloodline, or as close to the origin as can be managed, would turn all that had been assigned to them. The legislation, on the whole, was celebrated within the bloodlines graciously

It still caused tensions throughout Eternity; protests from humans in both the Northern and Southern zones, and the werewolves, who claimed such ceremonies weren't bestowed upon their kind in equal measures.

"What do you want, Kara?" I said, more sharply than before. She let out a low whistle as she pursed her lips. My fingers had reached into my jacket to pull out a few credit coins, and I began toying with them as I watched the alleyways around us.

Kara had applied for this. She'd gone through the myriad months and come out the other side with an acceptance form and an ability to choose a bloodline. Her first choice had been seventeen; which was eagerly accepted by the original. He was always happy to have young, strong blood within our ranks.

1:43. 1:42. 1:41.

"O Negative," she said, her eyes glued to the alleyway directly opposite the machine.

She had chosen me when she arrived, and while I didn't need an explanation, the question always lingered on my lips. We had grown quite close; the instinct to protect her was unfamiliar but strong, making me want her near—just in case.

"Expensive," I muttered, nearing frustration. Our bloodline's credits were allocated among its members. Most received a monthly amount that could only be described as "pocket money" for good behavior. The only ones who earned more were the "authoritarian" members tasked with stopping rampages and unlawful biting.

The rarer the blood type, the more credits it cost to obtain. Popular packs in a machine also tended to be pricier; B Negative in this machine cost two more credits than elsewhere. O Negative was one of the rarer packs, but it still sold out quickly. It was Kara's preferred choice, though she often opted for B Negative just to remove it from contention and stir up some drama within the bloodline.

0:43. 0:42. 0:41.

"It's what I want," she hissed.

"This time. Just this time," I said through clenched teeth. I often found myself the enforcer of discipline with Kara. She had a penchant for wasting credits within moments, enticing humans into being bitten at clubs, and provoking as many people as she could.

Being a vampire brought a sense of power, one that Kara was still adjusting to. The heightened strength and senses often detached the newly bitten from their humanity, the craving that toyed with their minds only left room for that purpose; feeding unquenchable thirst.

I thought I could keep watching the seconds tick away without fear; our surroundings had been broodingly silent so far. However, that illusion shattered with a sharp gasp from Kara. Her hand, clamped onto my arm, tightened, nails digging into my skin through the silk shirt.

My gaze snapped to the alleyway she had been fixated on. There, at the entrance, stood a man calmly leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on Kara with a piercing glare.

With so little time left on the timer, I had few options for dealing with a confrontation. I placed a hand on Kara's shoulder and pulled her behind me. I had to rely on my status within the bloodline to keep this man at bay. Newly instated members like Kara were often considered fair game, but I had been here long enough to command respect and have it make a difference.

0:22. 0:21. 0:20.

The final seconds of the countdown were always the most excruciating. They also tended to draw the others to the machine. Even the man from the alley had shuffled over to join the growing crowd. While Kara and I stood as close as possible, the others lingered in small groups a short distance away.

Blood was a necessity, and we were all prepared to fight for it; but in the right circumstances, a good fight could even take precedence. One of the few chances the Seventeenth bloodline had to engage in genuine combat was around this machine, and they eagerly seized both the battle and the blood that followed.

0:03. 0:02. 0:01.

The shutters began to turn with three seconds remaining, and by the time the countdown reached zero, the panel had fully opened to reveal the packs inside. The machine was aesthetically pleasing to me, with neatly arranged rows of A Positive, A Negative, B Positive, and so on, completing the display of all blood groups. Every line was full, and having the first pick was an opportunity I refused to waste.

I quickly inserted the credits I had clenched in my hand and entered the codes for our packs: four ON1s and four BN2s—hopefully enough to sustain us for the next month.

We grabbed the packs as they fell into the slot below and stashed them in the backpack Kara was wearing. As we dashed away, I heard a crash against the machine; someone's head had been slammed against the thick glass panel protecting the packs. It was a fight I would have stayed to watch if we weren't the only ones with blood, making us prime targets for either a fight or theft.

The walk back to Seventeen's building would hopefully be a quiet one. Every vampire was out on the streets tonight, and that always spelled trouble. After the war on Barewood ended, each species had been allocated a zone in the city. Vampires took the Eastern Zone, an area originally dominated by industrial business buildings, with huge skyscrapers and little greenery save for a small central park.

Each bloodline was assigned a skyscraper, which we transformed into livable spaces. The upper floors provided generous-sized rooms for each vampire, comfortable despite our lack of need for sleep. The lower floors were communal and luxurious, featuring fireplaces, long couches, gyms, and libraries. These areas were designed to keep us occupied and off the streets and out of the clubs. The basement levels were designated for sparring, though it was more akin to child-level fighting—minimal effort and minimal harm.

The zone was surrounded by a tall, metal wall that enclosed all the areas in turn. It ran around the entire zone with three "exit" gates that were manned by several of each species that controlled who could come and go. Each citizen of the City had been given an ID card that was required to enable anyone to leave or enter - though there was a low need to leave; most of what occupied our time was within the zone. Even the "illegal" blood could be obtained here if it was essential. It often was.

"Where do you think you're going, Nika?" a voice growled behind us. I hesitated, having already walked a few paces from the machine. Kara turned, concern washing over her face as she looked past me to see Fran and Hannah—inseparable troublemakers of Seventeen who often found themselves with fewer credits as a result.

"We're leaving, Fran," I replied.

"I want a pack. I didn't get my fair share of credits, and you know it." She lunged at me, baring her teeth and widening her eyes. Hannah followed, her gaze locked on the backpack. Kara jumped back as I stepped in front of her to shield her from the women. It was just a pity that this wouldn't be much of a fight.

As Fran lunged, I grabbed her by the throat and pushed her down hard, her head hitting the concrete. Caught off guard, she didn't resist, and her skull cracked from the impact. I raised my free hand to Hannah, who hesitated, pondering her next move. One wrong step, and I'd happily snap Fran's neck.

Hannah bowed her head in submission and took two steps back. I glanced around; similar skirmishes were breaking out among Seventeen. Those not fighting were quickly grabbing their dues from the machine and darting away.

"The last one back has to give up a pack!" Kara called joyously, her previous fear now eclipsed by the prospect of securing sustenance. With swift determination, she backed away from the grove and sprinted towards our building. I followed in her wake, conceding to her victory with a knowing smile—I had no desire to contend with a hungry Kara this month, especially now that she had her eyes set on the precious packs we had just obtained.