5

Your maker has his petty cruelties, Which is surprising—why did he create you if it was only to torment you? One evening, not long after the party at M. de Marigny's, the two of you are at another tavern, where you are presented with a cup of the best rum of the house. The smell is delightful. It is only then that you realize that your companions are staring at you, waiting for you to drink.

Not knowing any better, you quaff your drink. You have only a moment—which seems like an eternity—to dread what is about to happen: and then you spew the liquid all over one of your interlocutors. There is an immediate uproar—this was not the time or place for such a display. You begin to make your apologies before the room settles into outright hostility, but only then do you realize that Villanueva is nowhere to be found. At a loss, you beat a hasty retreat—there to discover your maker chuckling in the street.

"Why did you do that?" you demand.

He wipes the blood-tears from your eyes. "I had to teach you somehow…I thought I would amuse myself in the process."

"And what did you seek to teach me?"

He grows serious. "That food and drink are not for our kind. Some element of our condition makes those pleasures incompatable with our wretched existence. We drink only blood, forever and a day. When presented with similar situations in the future, you will have to think quickly as to how you will explain away your lack of appetites."

You nod, acknowledging the lesson. With a self-contented smile, he leaves you to your roiling insides. You ponder his retreating frame.

I look forward to repaying him in kind for these "small lessons."

Why does he have to take such pleasure in making myself and others miserable?

I must swallow my pride if I am to persevere.

This is but another test of my faith.

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