Vampire Progenitor System

The heat in the room lingered even after the last moan faded.

Bodies lay scattered across the black silk bed like the wreckage of a storm—spent, panting, their skin slick under the flicker of braziers. The smell of sweat, sex, and something darker still clung to the air.

Daniel stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders before sliding off the bed. The faint smirk on his lips never wavered as he pulled a silk robe over his bare, sweat-sheened frame. He tied it loosely, not bothering to hide the jagged red marks across his chest and neck, souvenirs from eager hands and teeth.

His bare feet padded softly across the carpet as he walked toward her.

Remu stayed seated in the velvet chair, arms crossed, her expression sharp enough to cut. Her bare skin still held the faint chill of the stone floor, and she didn't flinch when Daniel stopped a step in front of her.

"You work for me now," he said simply, like he was telling her the weather. His eyes glinted with that same cold amusement she remembered.

"In your dreams," she shot back, voice steady but low. "Our allegiance ended the day you wrecked havoc on Earth."

Daniel chuckled—a deep, dry sound, more mockery than humor. "If I remember right, you were the one who started that little mess. Summoning those Fogwalkers. Calling your pets in like you were inviting old friends over for tea." He tilted his head, studying her with an almost lazy interest. "I just… used the chaos. Settled a few scores. Faced my brothers. You make it sound like I twisted your arm."

Her jaw clenched. "You took what I did and turned it into hell."

"You opened the gates to hell," he said with a shrug, "I just walked through them."

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither blinking. Somewhere behind them, the soft sounds of bodies shifting under silk reminded her that the others were still there, half-asleep, half-spent.

Her voice softened, but not with warmth. "Why am I alive, Daniel?"

His smile didn't fade, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—calculation, maybe even satisfaction. "The dead pass through the demon realm before they go anywhere else," he said, his tone almost conversational. "It's a choke point. Like a train station. I saw your soul pass through. Thought it'd be a waste to let it slip away."

Her stomach turned cold. "So you dragged me back."

"Picked your soul out of the flow, yes," he corrected smoothly. "Performed a little magic. Now here you are. Breathing. Standing. Talking." He leaned down slightly, his shadow falling over her. "Though… not quite all the way back yet."

She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're here, but you're not anchored. Takes time for a soul to reattach to the body. Weeks, maybe more. Until then, you stay close. If you wander too far from the realm's pull…" He let the thought trail off with a small, deliberate smile.

Her nails dug into her palms. "So you're keeping me."

"Keeping you alive," he corrected. "You should be thanking me."

She barked a short laugh, bitter. "Thanking you? For what—owning me?"

"Not owning," he said, pacing a slow circle around her chair. "Employing. You're an investment now, Remu. I don't waste what I bring back."

She followed him with her eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away. "I'm not one of your toys, Daniel. And I'm sure as hell not one of your whores."

He stopped behind her, leaning in so close she could feel his breath against her ear. "No," he murmured, "you're something better. Dangerous. And dangerous things should be… aimed."

Her muscles tightened, but she didn't move. "You're not aiming me anywhere."

He straightened, walking back into her line of sight, and there it was—that infuriating smile again. "We'll see."

The silence stretched between them, heavy as the air in the chamber. Flickers of firelight danced across his face, painting sharp lines over the arrogance in his expression.

Finally, she asked, "What do you even want from me?"

Daniel tilted his head, considering her like she was some curious artifact. "Your fire. Your teeth. And that knack you have for tearing holes in the world." His gaze sharpened. "You did it once. You can do it again."

Her chest tightened. "Never again."

"You say that now," he replied softly, almost gently. "But the world has a way of… persuading."

She stood slowly, the chair creaking behind her. "I'd rather fade out of existence than serve you."

Daniel didn't move, didn't even blink. "Fade if you want," he said. "But every day you're here, you'll get stronger. The realm will seep into you. Anchor you. And when you're fully back…" His smile widened. "…you'll see things differently."

Remu shook her head. "You're wasting your breath."

"And you," he said, turning away, "are wasting your second life."

He started back toward the bed, pulling the robe looser as if the conversation was already over. She watched him go, her fists tightening, her chest burning with a heat that wasn't entirely anger.

The room was quieter now, the haze of earlier indulgence settling into something slower, heavier. The firelight licked over the walls, catching on the carved scenes of lust and violence, making them seem to move. Somewhere, far down the hall, the low thrum of the realm's magic pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and inescapable.

Remu glanced toward the massive doors, then back at Daniel's silhouette as he sank onto the edge of the bed. She could walk out. Try to find her way through the endless halls, through whatever guards or enchantments he'd set. But she knew the truth—her body still felt too new, too unsteady, like she was wearing skin that didn't quite belong to her yet.

And Daniel knew it too.

She hated that smirk because it wasn't just arrogance. It was certainty.

He poured himself a drink from the obsidian decanter beside the bed, his back to her now. The muscles in his shoulders shifted under the robe, and his voice floated across the room without him turning around.

"Stay or leave, Remu. Either way, you'll end up back here. That's how this place works."

Her fingers curled at her sides, her mind racing with the image of the glowing glyphs in the halls, the choking pull of the realm. She thought of the way the robed demon had gripped her arm earlier, how quickly she'd been brought here. This wasn't a place you simply walked out of.

She met his words with silence.

Daniel sipped from his glass, his gaze on the fire now. "You'll think about what I said. When you're ready to stop wasting your return… you know where to find me."

She turned her back on him, walking toward the doors with measured steps. The guards on the other side would be waiting. The realm itself would be waiting. But she'd keep her eyes open, keep her mind sharp. If there was a way to cut herself free of him, she'd find it.

For now, though, she pushed the doors open and stepped into the hall, the warm air of the chamber giving way to the cooler, darker corridors beyond. The drip of unseen water echoed again, and somewhere far away, the pulse of the demon realm kept beating, slow and patient.

Like it had all the time in the world.