First Bite

Moonlight

Quinn led Santana down a strange corridor that was lined with emerald and royal purple tapestries. Santana took in her surroundings, feeling as though she was in a medieval castle. Considering Sue was a dozen centuries old, Santana supposed the Queen had chosen her favorite decorative era and furnished her castle accordingly.

As they turned up a different corridor, it occurred to Santana that Quinn seemed to know where she was going.

"Have you been here before?" Santana whispered.

Quinn gave her a solemn nod.

"When?"

"Often enough," Quinn whispered.

Santana chilled at that. How had she not known that Quinn was close to the Queen? What if Quinn was part of some plot to do harm to Brittany's family? Santana grew more anxious still at the realization that Quinn would become Brittany's Maker the second the Queen turned her over. Although she knew Quinn was genuine in her remorse for the way she'd raised Santana, Santana couldn't help but be suspicious now. What if things were only going to get worse? What if she and Brittany were pawns in a setup that would only yield pain and bloodshed and agony?

"Are you and Queen Sylvester... close?" Santana asked, swallowing.

Quinn looked straight ahead, a fatigued smile gracing her face. "No," she said. "But she gets bored. Sometimes she likes to hear my political opinions."

"Political opinions?"

Santana wasn't comforted by Quinn bringing up politics.

"She finds my pacifist leanings humorous. Thinks I'm foolish. If she didn't respect my medical practice, she'd have nothing to do with me. But she says they balance each other out, so she keeps me around."

"Pacifist leanings?" Santana asked. She felt like an echo chamber for Quinn's words and the pounding of her aching heart.

Quinn stopped at the corner of a hallway. "Surely you know," Quinn said. "I don't wish humans any harm. I like humans."

Santana swallowed again, her throat still aching as she felt still more foolish for not realizing that Quinn was a pacifist. An integrationist, even.

"Brittany is a gift to me," Quinn shrugged. "For healing Sue's niece when she got bludgeoned by a troll last year." Quinn started walking again, then said in a low voice, "And probably because you staked Finn. She was never fond of him."

"Neither were you," Santana pointed out.

Quinn shrugged, an uncharacteristically muted reaction to talking about Finn. Santana supposed Quinn was trying to be respectful of the recently departed Sheriff of their district.

"He was an asshat," Santana said, trying to bait Quinn in launching into a full-fledged rant about what an incompetent moron he was.

Quinn pursed her lips. "Now that neither of us have a Maker, we don't have to worry about people dragging us into their politics. You especially."

Santana frowned. "What do you mean?"

Quinn looked surprised. "You know I would never put you or Brittany in any kind of danger, right? I wouldn't have demanded you report back to me about her family unless I had been commanded to."

Santana's feet slowed, realizing, as if for the first time, that Quinn had often been commanded to do things she didn't want to do too. Finn had used Quinn as a tool in his political vendettas in a way that was far more sinister than the pithy tasks Quinn had demanded of Santana. She felt even more pity and compassion for Quinn. It had never occurred to her that there were times when Quinn felt as powerless as she usually did.