Adrian Blackwood had been a vampire for six hours, and already the sky was turning gray. He crouched in a fountain's shadow at the edge of the town square. He had promised himself one thing since the fever took him: he would never drink from a person. Not tonight. Not ever. But that promise meant nothing if the sun found him here. He looked at his hands. In an hour they would burn to ash. He had tried the shops. Locked. He had tried the church door. Locked. A drunk had stumbled past the fountain, warm and slow, and Adrian's throat had clenched with a want so sharp it frightened him. He let the man pass. Then he pressed his back to the cold stone and made himself breathe air he no longer needed. The town offered no shelter. So Adrian ran from it. He fled past the last houses and into the trees. His new legs carried him faster than any horse. The ground blurred. The gray light chased him through the branches. Then he saw it rise from the hills ahead: a castle of black stone, its spires jagged against the paling sky. Orange light glowed in its narrow windows. Someone was awake inside. Adrian reached the iron gate as the first true light touched the hilltops. His skin began to sting. He hammered on the bars. "Please. The sun. Please." The gate swung inward on its own. He threw himself through and into the dark hall beyond. The doors boomed shut behind him. The stinging stopped. He lay on cold flagstones, safe, gasping out of habit. A voice came from the shadows above the stairs. Old. Amused. "You run from the sun like a rabbit runs from the hawk." A tall figure descended, robes trailing, eyes catching the torchlight red. "I am the lord of this house. And you are the newest of my kind. I felt you wake tonight. Every one of us does." Adrian pushed himself up. "I need somewhere to wait out the day. That's all." "Then you shall have it." The lord smiled, and his teeth showed. "I keep a chest below, carved of oak, deep enough to sleep in. No light reaches it. You will rest well." He tilted his head. "But you came here starving, and you did not feed on the way. I could smell it on you. The hunger, refused." "I won't take a life," Adrian said. "Not a human one." The lord's smile did not fade. It sharpened. "How noble. How young." He turned toward the stairs. "Sleep in my chest today, little rabbit. And when night falls, I will teach you what it truly costs to starve. You will learn my rules, or you will learn the sun." The daylight could not reach Adrian now. But he had traded a burning sky for a locked door, and the one who held the key was hungry too.

Adrian woke in the oak chest when night came. He pushed the carved lid open and climbed out. The castle lord waited at the top of the stairs, red eyes patient. "You slept," the lord said. "Now you owe me. I teach nothing for free. Prove you are useful, or crawl back into the wood." Adrian's throat ached with hunger. He had not fed. But he needed what this old vampire knew. "Tell me what you want," he said. The lord led him down to a cellar. A golden tree stood there, small as a man, its leaves shining. Glowing fruit hung from the branches. "An old thing," the lord said. "It grants growth to those who eat its fruit. But thieves have moved in." He pointed. A cluster of small green goblins crouched at the roots, stuffing fallen fruit into ragged sacks. They snickered and multiplied as Adrian watched, two becoming four. "Clear them out. Then we talk." Adrian stepped toward the tree. The goblins hissed and scattered. He grabbed one by the arm. It bit him and slipped free. Two more climbed his back, pulling his hair, laughing. Every one he caught, another sprang up behind him. He could not fight them all. He stopped. He watched what they wanted. Fruit. They came only for the fruit. Adrian pulled three glowing fruits from the low branches. He held them out on his open palm. The goblins froze. "You want these," he said. "There's more outside. Follow." He walked to the cellar door and rolled the fruit across the floor into the dark passage. The goblins shrieked with joy and chased them, tumbling over each other, out and gone. The cellar went quiet. The lord came down the last step, slow, studying Adrian. "You didn't kill them," the lord said. "I didn't need to." Adrian faced him. "You said prove I'm useful. It's done." The lord's mouth twisted. For a moment Adrian thought he would refuse. Then the old vampire laughed, low and dry. "Clever rabbit. Most of my kind only know the throat and the kill. You found another door." He turned toward the stairs. "Very well. I will teach you. Tonight you learn to hunt without a corpse behind you. Come." Adrian followed him up. His hunger still burned, sharp as ever. But for the first time since the fever took him, someone would show him a way to feed that did not end a life. He had bought his lessons. He had not spilled a drop to do it. At the top of the stairs the lord paused. "Understand this. My lessons come one at a time. And each one you will pay for." He smiled with all his teeth. "You are useful now. See that you stay useful."

The lord kept his first lesson short. "The hunger drives the hands," he said in the cellar. "You cannot fight it. You must chain it before you go near a human." He pressed a small vial into Adrian's palm. "Drink one drop when the fever rises. It slows you. But it will not last long, and I have only this one." Then he sent Adrian out into the night to try. Adrian carried his hunger down into the town square. Moonlight lay on the fountain and the closed market stalls. A single figure sat on a bench near the water. His teeth ached. His hands wanted to move on their own. He took out the vial and drank a drop. The world slowed. His breath cooled. He stepped toward the bench, calm at last. The person turned. It was not a person. Light poured off her wings, soft as candle glow. A fairy hovered a foot above the bench, delicate and small, her hair drifting. "You're the new one," she said. "The old vampire in the hills sent you, didn't he." Her voice held no fear. That frightened Adrian more than a scream would have. "I need to feed," he said. "But I won't kill. I can't hold myself when it takes over." His hand shook around the empty vial. The single drop was already fading. He felt the hunger climb his spine again. The fairy studied him. She drifted toward a nearby shop with glowing windows, its shelves crowded with charms and sleeping creatures. "I grant wishes," she said. "Not gifts. A wish costs. Tell me the true one." "I wish to feed without harming anyone. Ever." The words came fast. The hunger surged, and Adrian's knees bent to spring. He fought it and lost. He lunged. The fairy touched two fingers to his forehead. Warmth spread through his skull. The lunge died mid-air. He froze, then dropped to the cobblestones, gasping. The hunger still burned, but now a small clear voice sat behind it, steady, holding the reins. He could think while starving. He could stop. "The wish is granted, in part," she said. "You have the will now. Not the food." She hovered close. "But wishes take payment. You'll owe me a service, vampire. I'll name it when I choose. Refuse, and the gift unravels." Adrian rose. The vial was empty and useless, and he no longer needed it. He had won the thing the lord's drug only faked. He could face a human and hold his own hands. "What service?" he asked. The fairy only smiled and folded her wings. "Later. For now, go find something warm to drink, and prove you meant your wish." She rose toward the glowing shop and was gone. Adrian stood alone by the fountain. He had the control at last. But he had traded one master's debt for two.