“That’s...
Okay. That... changes things. Maybe. 

“In my world, there are fourteen—they’re not really beings, but you can think of them like that, it’s easier—based on the common fears of living things. They—feed on it, kind of, or maybe embody it, or... something like that. There are lots of different names for them—different lists, too, people including more or less than fourteen—but I’m going to use the one I’m familiar with. Some of them are simple; the Buried, that’s claustrophobia, or the Dark, which is exactly what it sounds like. The Desolation is fear of sadistic pain, the Vast is fear of heights and depths and insignificance, the End is fear of death, the Slaughter is fear of war, the Corruption is the fear of disease and insects and gross things. Then there are the more conceptual ones, like the Lonely—also exactly what it sounds like—or the Spiral, which is fear of madness and not being able to trust yourself; the Web, fear of being controlled and manipulated; the Stranger, which encompasses fears based in the uncanny valley, the familiar made wrong; and the Eye, the fear of being watched, of having your secrets revealed. The fears of animals, they exist too—the Flesh, fear of factory farming, and the Hunt, which is, well, what it sounds like. Vampires in my world are—strange alien creatures of the Hunt, preying on the predators.

“I... It’s been a long time since I started becoming less human. Getting these... abilities, from the Eye. And then.... I died, and the Eye brought me back. But it wants truth. Especially true stories. Of times when people were very, very afraid, and were right to be afraid. And so I can Ask for them. That’s why—that’s why I like it so much when you talk. It feels right.”

"...I haven't been talking about people being afraid, though."

“Well, no, but— it likes curiosity, it likes knowing true things, it likes certainty. I don’t know whether or not I can survive on just that—I highly doubt it—but it’s still...” He trails off, sighs. “I don’t know how old you are or what your power is but I think it likes you. Which, if you don’t have the entities in your world... don’t come to mine.”

"I don't think we do. Is it bad, for it to be fed? If what it wants is just stories?"

“It... hurts people, when I take them. They feel watched. Like their privacy’s being torn away, all the time, their secrets exposed from every corner of their mind. Even in my dreams, I’m watching them.”

And then, after a long pause, quieter: “I don’t... want it to be bad. But, well, I wouldn’t.”

"...I feel okay so far. But like I said I'm not a very private person."

She blooms with context. There have been witches who read minds, who detect lies, who copy entire histories at a touch - this gives some people Elspeth knows a bad case of existential dread but it doesn't bother Elspeth. Elspeth shares dreams in her sleep, with anyone who holds her hand; Elspeth can transcend language. She has on occasion needed to lie. She is better at it when she does it with the truth. She can tell the truth so hard it kills the people who hear it; she can tell the truth with such fidelity it resurrects the dead. And witchcraft isn't random. Witchcraft did not give this power to a private person. It gave it to Elspeth and absent practical considerations and the fact that she currently contains a lot of information that isn't hers to give she would happily tell everyone everything.

But there could be practical considerations.

"Should I not want it to be fed?"

Jon’s eyes close when Elspeth talks; he visibly relaxes into the sensation. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t be too surprised, either. I don’t... you know so much.” His voice is low and pained on the words before lightening. “I can definitely see why the Eye likes you, Elspeth Cullen. You answer questions like I ask them.”

"I shouldn't go too fast. I don't know if you have different tolerances from humans."

That earns a bit of a laugh. “Oh, I definitely do. You can start slow and I can— tell you if it gets to be too much?” His eyes are greedy; his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “Please.”

"What do you want to know first?"

“Everything,” he says before he can stop himself. A moment later, he corrects himself. “From the beginning, please.”

(A tape recorder appears in the background and clicks itself on.)

"I am a half-vampire," she says again, and it's full of color, you can almost smell the vampire floral scent, the brown eyes are from her human side, the vampire was her father, her mother never bore her but was already turned having prepared for the possibility of children in advance -

A tall Native American man who looks like an action movie poster given form emerges from the hallway beside the bar. Elspeth takes his hand and his eyes twitch behind closed lids like he's dreaming - and he opens them and fixes Jonathan with a glare.

He growls, a low wolf noise.