Blood of the Trinity

A Wicked Move

Sapphira hadn't seen or heard from her enemy or Priest. She had been invited to a social gathering and had reluctantly agreed. It wasn't interesting. Social gatherings rarely were. She pretended her interest and then removed herself from the main gathering. With a slight frown and glare, she watched the crowd of humans.
It was the scent that caught her interest. A familiar smell coming from upstairs. Sapphira studied the guests and went upstairs, unseen by the guests and servants. She followed the faint scent of her enemy to a bedroom. Without knocking, she entered the room and quietly closed the door behind her.
It smelled like death. Sapphira looked at the eighteen year old male before her, obviously weak with sickness. Wasting sickness. He had seen her and gave her a confused look, holding a piece of cloth to his mouth so as not to get her ill.
"Tea and death," Sapphira whispered to herself as she caught the smell of herbal tea. She knew the name of the young man before her. His name was Joseph Farrell, seventh child of the Farrell family. He would have no inheritance to claim, no land and no servants.
Sapphira was debating her options. She could end Joseph's suffering, and it was obvious he was suffering or she could force The Change on him. With some consideration, Sapphira came to a conclusion. She walked to the chair beside Joseph's sick bed and sat down. He watched her, his green, golden flecked eyes clouded over with the wasting sickness he had.
Slowly and with great effort, Joseph pointed to the wash basin by his bed. Sapphira got the unspoken request and dipped the cloth in the water, placing the cool, damp cloth of Joseph's forehead. Joseph obviously had a fever. Even Sapphira could tell.
Every breath he took was labored and wet sounding. Like there was some fluid trapped in his lungs as he gasped for air, the cloth over his mouth only making it more difficult for him. Sapphira helped him sit as he began to cough.
Eventually, his coughing became harsh breathing again and Sapphira smelled blood. Sapphira took the cloth away from Joseph's mouth. He tried to resist and she calmly wiped the flecks of blood away from his mouth as she adjusted the pillows for him to sit. She put the damp cloth over his forehead again and placed the now bloodied rag on the end table. He was trying to cover his mouth again to make sure she wouldn't get ill.
She gently took his hand and pressed it firmly against his bed. He gave her a confused look. She didn't have to see it for long as she moved his weak form to her, exposing his throat. Her decision now firm in her mind, Sapphira sank her fangs into Joseph's pulsing vein. He couldn't scream, just a horrible airy rasp and he couldn't struggle, even though he tried.
Sapphira drained him to the point of near death before removing her fangs from his neck. She had to admit that she was surprised that no servants had checked on him as she removed her gloves and sank her fangs into her wrist. She placed her bleeding wrist against Joseph's mouth and after some time, smiled as he roused from unconsciousness.
She kept her wrist pressed against Joseph's mouth as he weakly tried to move his head. His struggles became stronger, until she had to hold him to the bed. She removed her wrist when she heard his muffled scream of anguish. He still couldn't scream. The pain was too great.
Sapphira watched her wound heal, put her gloves back on and left Joseph's sick room. She was still surprised that there were no servants tending to him. Perhaps he had been closer to death than she had originally thought. It didn't matter now. It was unlikely he would even survive The Change, or even survive through the rest of the day because of The Change. Sapphira cleaned her mouth and rejoined the social gathering.
She would be shocked if Joseph managed to survive. If he did, no matter how old he became, he would need the blood due to the illness. If he didn't feed, the illness would strengthen and end him. Just as it would if he were human.
Humans who found out about Vampires thought that being Changed would cure their illnesses. It didn't cure their sickness, it kept the sickness at bay, the symptoms not showing until the need for blood became desperate. And even then with the sickness at bay, it never left. It only made the surviving human need to feed no matter the age.
Those with wasting illnesses were no exception. And any ill human had less of a chance of surviving The Change than a healthy human. And a healthy humans chances were barely there to begin with.
Sapphira knew what she had done was possibly despicable. She didn't care. She knew that on the extremely unlikely chance Joseph survived, it would draw her enemy out. Killing her enemy didn't seem possible, but she could potentially weaken him. All she had to do was draw him out. Wise idea or not, Sapphira just needed a small opportunity to be presented in order to strike.
This move was the move to present that opportunity. Even Sapphira knew that.