Minutes turn into hours as the crowd inside Clutch grows. It seems that vampires from all over Las Vegas and the surrounding areas have been instructed to congregate here, and not unlike humans, the rumors and speculation are at an all-time high. Hushed voices around the room take guesses at what brings the Sisters to town. From what we know, essentially from hearsay or folklore, they visit a Clutch vampire club only to bring down punishment upon those who have disobeyed, or broken a sacred Covenant.

There are no humans permitted during this time, and some of the vampires look like they should have fed before coming here. Technology hasn’t mastered any sort of synthetic blood substitute like you might see in movies or television, and there has been no need for us to store blood for centuries. Humans willingly provide it to us these days, but for those who arrived hungrily, they’ll be in misery if we’re stuck here for an extended period of time.

Since it appears that we had notice, I suppose I could have notified Fiona I would be detained for an unknown amount of time, but that wouldn’t have been sufficient. She asks a lot of questions, and while I love her inquisitive nature, the lack of answers I am able to provide in this particular situation would have caused her more distress than ignoring her call and turning off my phone. I can’t help it, I'm agitated. I want to know what happened with her father today, and I want my freedom. Being trapped in the bar without the ability to leave has me feeling like a caged animal.

Each of us met the Sisters at least one time. On the day of our rebirth. The thing about that day is that no vampire remembers it. I don’t recall their faces or voices. I don’t even know if I met all three at one time, or if I was passed around, or even what I said to become a vampire. I have a vague recollection of a world before I was a vampire, and photographic memory of every moment after becoming a vampire. That sliver of time in the middle, actually becoming a vampire? Don’t remember a bit of it. None of us do. It’s either the most wonderful feeling in the world, or it’s the worst, and that is why it’s blocked out. Although the Sisters are known for having a purpose to every single thing that they do, so it’s probably intentional.

Selene looks more agitated than ever, and she leans across the bar where we’ve settled ourselves in to wait. “Do you remember what drinking tasted like? Or how it made you feel?” she asked me randomly.

As I think back over the years of my life, I can’t say that I do. “No, I suppose I wasn’t much of a drinker before.” I surmise this with no reasonable evidence to support my guess.

“Do you remember much of your life before?”

“Selene, why are you asking me all of these questions? Are you okay?” I grow concerned for her well being after unexpectedly becoming the Keeper. We all knew that a Keeper existed, but I personally presumed that someone held that role and was aware of their responsibility. I had no idea that the chosen vampire would be overtaken by the Sisters whenever they saw fit.

“I’m fine, Roman. I’m just thinking about life before. Would it have been easier to be a foolish and infantile human? Would it have been better?” A wistful look passes over her face before she shakes her head as if jolting lose the thought.

“I don’t think it would have been any easier. It would have been different. And not nearly as interesting a life. But it doesn’t matter; we’re not human, Selene. We haven’t been human for over five hundred years. We have experienced the human condition time and time again and survived long beyond their trials and tribulations, and we shall continue to do so for another five hundred years or more.” I’m not entirely satisfied I believe my own monologue, but Selene looks disturbed by the events unfolding, and I do care for her.

Smiling, she lets out a light laugh. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t like all this waiting. It agitates me. Disrupts my business, too.” She glances around the room at all the vampires with nothing to buy; all the lost revenue without any humans was evidently on her mind as well.

“Hopefully it’ll happen soon. Whatever it is. I have shit to do too.”

“Like your human?” she teases me.

“Yes. Exactly. Like my human.” I chuckle.

Just then, the lights flicker, and the vampires milling about all become silent. It’s happening. The Sisters, the Fates as they are, have arrived. I’m not sure what I expected; a plume of magic smoke and they’d appear, but that’s not what happened at all. They walk in through the front door, the crowd parting before them as they approach the center of the room. Almost floating, they each had a familiar look to me, as if I’d met them before, which of course I had, but I have no exact recollection of it.

The slightest of tight-lipped, sly smiles across each of their lips, the only other thing they have in common with each other is the ethereal gowns they’re dressed in. They don’t appear to have that “Mistress of the Night” look about them, so that stereotype isn’t their fault. In fact, they are quite beautiful, like Greek goddesses. That’s what their attire reminds me of. Still, no one has spoken, but everyone in the room is standing, staring and waiting.

“My children,” the first one said. Her wispy blonde hair falls in waves around her face and down her back. “I am Clotho. You do not remember me, but you have all met me, as your former selves. As a useless bag of blood and bones before you became my children.” Her voice is soft and kind, almost soothing. “My sisters and I are here because someone has broken the rules of the Covenant. Our sacred and binding Covenant.” Her kind face turns into a scowl, and her perfect white teeth draw out past her pale pink lips.

All I can think is that it wasn’t me, so who’s the asshole? Selene and I make eye contact, giving a knowing glance and then we’re both scanning the room as Clotho begins to roam the room as if she’s floating. The other sisters, Atropos and Lachesis, have not identified themselves yet, and they stand to watch their sister as she examines the faces around her. There have to be two or three hundred vampires in the room, maybe more, and she’s stopping to make eye contact with each of them.

I now wish that I’d blended myself into the crowd, and didn’t have a front row seat for what was about to happen. Flying under the radar has been my specialty for years, and emerging as anything other than ordinary and obedient is not what I want. Fortunately for me, Clotho stops in front of a vampire I’ve never seen before. The immediate fear in his eyes as if he’s been picked out is evident. The human tendency to fight or flee is less in a vampire, particularly with human interaction; however, I’m quite sure from the near quiver in this vampire’s lip that he knows he’s in trouble.

“Egan. My child. Step forward.” She lifts her hand, gesturing to him.

Reluctantly, the vampire does as she asks.

“Come.” She turns back toward where her sisters are still standing, and now grinning.

Egan follows her to the center of the room, then drops to his knees. “Clotho! Please take mercy on me!” he begs. From what I can gather, no one in the room but the Sisters knows what his violations are.

It is then that the Sister with black hair, similar to her blonde sister, long and wavy down her back speaks. She is not as kind, or as demure. “Shut up, you pig!” She sneers.

Egan does as he’s told as we all watch the third sister, the one with auburn hair, approach him without menace. She walks around him, gently resting her hand on the top of his head as she circles. “Egan,” she says almost tauntingly. “Do you know what you’ve done?” As Egan opens his mouth to reply, she takes a fistful of his hair roughly, lowering her face to his. “I suggest that you be honest. It will make this much easier for you.”

“Yes,” Egan whispers.

“Tell your brethren what you’ve done to make us come here to administer punishment!” She releases him violently, causing him to fall back to the ground.

“I have not followed the rules of the Covenant,” he says, head hanging low. What fucking rule could he have broken?

“Which of the rules have you taken upon yourself to disregard? Rules that are set up to protect our kind. Rules that keep us safe among the mortals, and give us the ability to roam freely in their world. What did you do?!” she demands, appearing to lose patience.

“I have compelled humans wearing the cross.”

The Sister with the black hair laughs, but it’s more of a deranged cackle. “Do you honestly think that we would come here because you compelled a few humans? Egan! Confess! Now!” she demands, her impatience becoming evident.

As if he were taking a sigh, he pauses before answering. “I compelled humans who did not wish to be compelled. And then I fed on them.”

“And what happened when you greedily fed on these humans, Egan?” Clotho’s soft voice inquires.

“I drained them. I couldn’t stop myself. I was so hungry, and they were so beautiful.” He looks up at the Sisters, now all in a line before him, looking down upon him.

“Oh, my child. You knew the rules regarding this behavior. It’s not acceptable and puts our kind at great risk. You must pay for these sins,” Clotho says sympathetically as she takes a step backward.

“Please have mercy on me,” Egan begs, knowing that it’s too late. He killed humans. And not just one, several it seems. For pleasure, and for no other reason.

The red-haired Sister steps forward. “Egan, you are now sentenced to defanging, followed by death. Your crimes are egregious, and there is no retribution befitting such a break in the Covenant. You’ve endangered your brothers and sisters, and therefore your life must be taken.”

She steps behind Egan, grabbing him by the hair, and pulling his head back, exposing his neck dramatically as the dark-haired sister approaches. “Lachesis, hold him still as I take his fangs.” She grins manically; she enjoys this, which somewhat appalls me.

“Yes, Atropos.”

Now I know who is who, and it’s pretty clear that Atropos is the punisher in this trio. While I try not to give off any red flags of my own, I watch in horror as she pulls out Egan’s fangs – by hand. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. If a vampire sustains a nonfatal injury, the parts injured will regenerate. It’s a perk of being immortal. I imagine that if there weren’t more to this punishment, his fangs would grow back, but by the amount of screaming that has begun, it must be painful as fuck.

The rest of the room remains silent as Clothos approaches with a long, medieval sword and hands it to Atropos. Egan is on his knees, crying if such a thing exists for a vampire. I’ve not witnessed a vampire experience pain such as this, so I’m not even clear what the fuck is happening until Atropos wields the sword well above her head, and with one massive swing decapitates Egan.

Never having witnessed a vampire beheading or a vampire death for that matter, the grey sticky substance that spewed from his corpse was not only shocking, but it also sprayed bits of his insides on anyone standing nearby, including myself. As I look down at the muck that has splattered on my shirt and jacket, I realize that Egan’s head has rolled next to my foot and I look back up at the Sisters, who all have grins on their faces.

“Now that we’ve taken care of that, one of your sisters has not checked in. We will be leaving to address that violation, and we will be returning afterward,” Clotho says without any emotion, just her soft and kind voice.

Atropos catches my glance. “You. Roman,” she says without inflection.

“Yes?” I reply.

“Burn his body. And you, Keeper!” she yells at Selene.

“Yes, Sister?” Selene replies.

“Make sure it’s taken care of. We will know.”

“Yes, Sister.”

With sword in hand, Atropos walks to the front door, Sisters in tow. In a moment, they are gone, and I’m standing in a room full of stunned vampires with a severed head, a body and a set of fangs to dispose of. What the fuck?