The Bitter Buffoon
Among many societies, there used to be a deeply-held belief that drinking someone’s blood gave you their power. Not only did it turn out to be a ridiculous thought, but in the end, one which nearly proved fatal and came close to ending the line of the Blood Tasters.
In these days, the modern days, the more sophisticated days, Tamsin only sipped, swished, and spit. As chief of the Blood Tasters tribe, and chairwoman of their corporation, she rarely tasted blood anymore. Her 35,000 employees, each holding the pedigree that had made them so important to society, carried out the task of judging the blood of the people against the ancient Scriptures.
She was in mid-spit when Logan rapped on the French doors.
“Sorry to disturb, Ms. Lamb. A lady, Ritesh Guan, is at the gates. She is the new head of the Agency.”
Bits of blood and saliva swirled down the drain of the pearl clamshell sink, leaving only a trail to prove from where it had come. She watched and waited.
“A facial identity search has confirmed her claim,” Logan finished.
Tamsin grabbed a clean towel from the rack beside the sink, leaving another trace of the blood as she wiped her lips.
“Please see her to the sitting room.”
“Yes, Ms. Lamb.”
She returned to her dimly lit bedroom. The rising sun peaked through gray satin curtains as Tamsin picked up the tablet from the nightstand. After keying in her discoveries, she threw it on the bed and proceeded downstairs.
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