“That’s all?”

If one listened close enough, they might have even heard the disappointment in his voice.

What an awful proposition it was, but what had anyone ever been to him but hurt, and blood, and control? What had anyone ever wanted but his body alone? He had absolutely everything to lose, and yet he could not clear his thoughts of what his niece had said.

Something new. Someone new. A new path – he supposed that this was about the farthest thing from what she meant by that. Arthur was just as bad as his father. He might have even been worse, because his father, at least, had claimed to care after every time he hurt him. He wasn’t sure that the man before him now was even capable of caring for anyone but himself.

Maybe, in time, Malachi wouldn’t be either. It seemed like a less painful way to live – without love.

Malachi pulled the doctor’s bloody hand close. Slow enough that he could appreciate the warm, metallic taste, he licked the blood from his palm, and stained his mouth red.

He took another deep breath, and whispered, “you're right.”

Then, without another word, dragged Arthur into a bloody collision of lips and teeth, teeth, teeth.