House of Hunger

by Alexis Henderson

But begrudging contentment was not the same as happiness. At best it was familiarity, and at worst defeat. It certainly wasn’t the same as true fondness.

The worst of their job was the bleeding, which bloodmaids did frequently to satisfy the carnivorous appetites of the nobles, who relied on the healing properties of their blood as a lavish remedy for their varying ailments. According to the newspapers, blood was purported to cure a number of diseases including, but not limited to, tuberculosis, rubella, measles, syphilis, rickets, and arthritic pains. Some even believed that blood contained youth-preserving properties, especially when taken directly from the source and consumed while still warm.

She knew the name of Raul’s affliction. Had known for some time, though she didn’t dare admit it to herself. In the slums they called it the grippe. It was a disease most often transmitted through the passions of lovers.

Now, of the twenty-seven Houses, only four held any real power: the House of Hunger, the House of Fog, the House of Locusts, and the House of Mirrors.

True night is black too thick to see through. It’s a crescent moon and starless skies and the kind of cold that kills. You’ll know it when you feel it.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret that will serve you well in the North: The whole world runs on blood. Who has good blood. Who has bad blood. Whose blood is shed and whose isn’t. That’s what it all comes down to in the end. And you southerners like to pretend that isn’t true, but you’re just as bloodthirsty as the rest. Blood is everything in the South. It’s everything everywhere.”

She’d never been able to understand why people who had so much fought over so little. What was the point of war when everyone had full bellies and more money than they could ever spend? What more could they possibly want? As far as Marion was concerned, they were simply too rich and too bored and looking for violent ways to pass the years.

“What we are made to feel we are made to remember. And there is no feeling as memorable as pain.

Marion had always found it odd that someone would go through the trouble of killing a creature only to make it look alive again. It seemed somehow perverse.