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The horse's scream had been cut off long ago even though its heart had just stopped, squeezing blood into Apo's dry and waiting throat. Apo hated to draw out suffering, but the longer the heart beat, the sweeter the meal was. Still, she slashed through the beast's vocal chords first so at least Cherri and the neighbours wouldn't hear its final cries. Even if they weren't awake, not even the last of the night needed to hear Apo's failings.
A small part of them, the corner of whatever soul they had that made them sick to their bones, craved the taste of human blood. It had a delicate taste that animals were missing. Call it memories, call it spirit, call it the thrill of stealing life force. Whatever it was, it sent Apo shivering in their hunger. It was a craving that couldn't be satiated with the retired horse Cherri had so graciously negotiated for.
But still, the meal was hot and fresh and did enough to take the shallowness from her cheeks and give hollow life into her eyes again. Apo let the corpse fall to the ground. The husk cracked against the stone. A cool morning breeze whisked through the brittle mane and made the small puddles of blood ripple on the floor. She tore her eyes away and stalked back into her home.
The house shook in its frame as the door slammed shut. Glancing through the pink curtained window, Apo looked for red in the sky. Since dawn wasn't close enough for her to start on the morning routine she moved to get cleaned up. But who was she to deserve to be clean? She had killed again, drank again, submitted to her hunger that she asked for and failed. As if Fernsfield wasn't enough, she'd failed Oakhurst a hundred times over. She'd bloodied herself there and hadn't stopped even after leaving it behind. She'd just come home and continued massacring. She was no worse than—
Apo's face almost hit the floor. They'd tripped. There was a wrinkle in the hallway rug. The carpet smelled like dirt and cinnamon. White dog fur dusted the fibres. A part of them wanted to curl up here and rot but they had already gotten blood on the carpet.
So what was a few drops more?
"Apo?"
She cringed into the ground. Hearing the creak of the whisper quiet hinges, she sat up.
"G'morning, Cherri. Did I wake you?" she murmured.
Ignoring the etiquette of the time before the rooster crowed, Cherri spoke at full volume. "I heard you fall."
"For you?" Apo joked wryly and without conviction. Studying the carpet, there were no visible bloodstains, but that was surely because of the reddish design.
"Are you okay?" asked Cherri, sinking to the floor beside her. "Did you eat?"
Apo stifled a snarl. She nodded.
They sat together in the almost silence. The kitchen clock ticked, a little slower than usual — it needed winding that weekend. Blossom snuffled in her doggy bed by the foot of the bed. A critter scuffled in the attic, hopefully not eating any trinkets, hopefully eating the letters Cherri kept that Apo wrote her. No birds sang yet. Their chickens were still asleep in their coop. The kitchen was growing pink with predawn light shining through the curtains. The honeysuckle on the table rustled in the breeze blowing in from the living room.
The quiet was stifling. It pressed in, choking Apo. They pulled their legs to their chest. Cherri still smelled of sleep, cloying instead of comforting like it used to be. Resting their cheek on their knees, Apo studied her. Her expression was open, not betraying her thumping heart — it was faster than the usual resting tempo. There was a crease on her cheek from her pillow and a loop of hair sitting errantly on top of her head. She was adorable.
Words died on Apo's lips. She swallowed once, twice. Her fingers picked at the edge of the rug. Rolling a now loose tuft between her fingers until it frayed to nothing, she tried to gather her thoughts. Apparently having decided Apo had been sitting there for long enough, Cherri scooped her up and carried her to the sofa they'd made together. Apo cringed at getting blood on the fabric. She was set down on Blossom's blanket. Wordlessly, Cherri sat next to her and pressed into her side.
A sob wrenched itself free of Apo's chest. Tears clawed at her throat. Her mouth still tasted coppery. "How can you stand me?" she wept.
"Wha-" Cherri stumbled, jerking away to face them.
"I'm a monster," Apo wailed. She curled into herself again, rejecting the world that transformed her into something she no longer recognised.
"Oh, Apo," Cherri murmured. Their hand found Apo's chin and tilted it up to face them. They were glowing in the dawn's light.
The clock chimed four times. It echoed through their still home, setting the crossbow above the fireplace singing to Apo's supernaturally good hearing.
Cherri traced her thumb across Apo's cheek. The blood stuck to Cherri, leaving Apo's skin a little paler, less red and more pink. A tear rolled down to replace it. "You are not a monster," Cherri said firmly.
Apo blubbered, "But I—"
"Eat raw meat? Drink blood?" Cherri said. "Plenty of people eat weirder things than you."
Apo's breath hitched on tangled emotion. "Well, but—
"You never hurt anyone. I don't think I know anyone with a weaker stomach than you. You were wasted on the military. Why else would you be stationed in the middle of nowhere?" said Cherri, cracking a wry smile. She yawned, eyeing the still too dark sky.
Cherri's last words hit Apo's chest like a wooden stake. "I failed Oakhurst," she cried.
At that, Cherri scoffed. "From everything you told me, it was doomed no matter who was sent. What, you were sent to dirt and sticks, then had to wrangle the biggest group of idiots ever? You did a great job. You did so much for them." Under their breath they muttered, "Too much for them."
"It wasn't enough, though," Apo sniffled.
"Says who," Cherri said, raising her eyebrows. She looked Apo dead in the eyes, challenging.
"Me!" she exploded. "I became a monster—" Cherri winced "— to protect them and they still got hurt. I let my guard down, I left people alone and they— and that—"
"Hey!" Cherri caught Apo's hands in her own. She pressed a kiss to their knuckles. A smear of blood stained her lips. "You are beautiful."
"What?" Apo laughed wetly.
"You're so driven, so stubborn, and kind of stupid sometimes. You get it in your head that you have to do everything, save everyone that you come across. And that's great, but some people can't be saved or don't want to be saved. You can't do anything about that. Except watch them if you want to. But they're gone now, you're here now. You did your best then, so keep doing that now. We'll keep raising chickens and buying old animals. They'd get thrown away anyway so you're doing us all a favour. Who would've thought vampires are good waste management?"
Too startled to do anything else, Apo just laughed again.
Cherri picked up a handkerchief from where it rested on their pink wool and walnut wood chair. They wiped another smear of blood from Apo's face. Their hand was warm against her too cold skin. It felt like they'd just warmed by the fireplace. "And you can always take a drink from me." They winked.
"No." Apo shut them down immediately.
Cherri waggled their eyebrows.
"Absolutely naAH—" Apo cut off with a shriek as Cherri swept her up in their arms again.
"Now let's get you cleaned up. I can't have you getting blood in my breakfast. I haven't got the taste for it. Yet." Cherri waltzed them both into the bathroom and set Apo in the bath.
"Cherri!" Apo wheezed, reaching for her fruitlessly as she swept off to get the bucket for water. She fell back into the tub, heart giddy and room alight with love and laughter.