No I'm not misremembering I know that they have intense Cravings that are literally half a hair away from doing them in. I also know that it takes an hour and five Essence to fix one of them.You are misinformed. You need to read chapter 24-25 of Death Masks again.
Every half-blood literally has to live in the knowledge that if they lose control once, they fall off the wagon and Change.
They cant have families or close relationships, because sex will almost certainly result in the death of their partner and their change into a full Red. Its a constant struggle for them.
They cant even stay in the same room indefinitely with open blood because its a major temptation.
We have seen Susan twice almost kill Dresden in canon, once in each book she appeared.
I limped to the icebox, which was going to need more ice before long. I didn't have the leftover energy to freeze the water again by magic. I grabbed two cans of Coca-Cola, opened them both, and took one to Susan. She took a long guzzle and I joined her.
"You're limping," she said when she was done.
I looked down at my feet. "Only one shoe. It makes me lopsided."
"You're hurt," she said. Her eyes were fastened on my leg. "Bleeding."
"It isn't too bad. I'll clean it up in a minute."
Susan's eyes never wavered, but they got darker. Her voice grew quieter. "Do you need help?"
I turned a bit warily so that she couldn't see the injured leg. She shivered and made an evident effort to look away. The tattoos on her face were lighter now-not fainter, but changing in colors. "I'm sorry. Harry, I'm sorry, but I'd better go."
"You can't," I said.
Her voice remained very quiet, very toneless. "You don't get it. I'll explain everything to you in a little while. I promise. But I have to leave."
I cleared my throat. "Um. No, you don't get it. You can't. Cannot. Literally."
"What?"
"The defenses I put up have two sides and they don't have an off switch. We literally, physically can't leave until they go down."
Susan looked up at me and then folded her arms, staring at her Coke can. "Crud," she said. "How long?"
I shook my head. "I built them to run for about eight hours. Sunrise is going to degrade it a little though. Maybe four hours, five at the most."
"Five hours," she said under her breath. "Oh, God."
"What's wrong?"
She waved a hand vaguely. "I've been - been using some of the power. To be faster. Stronger. If I'm calm, it doesn't get stirred up. But I haven't been calm. It's built up inside of me. Water on a dam. It wants to break free, to get loose."
I licked my lips. If Susan lost control of herself, there was no place to run. "What can I do to help?"
She shook her head, refusing to look up at me. "I don't know. Let me have some quiet. Try to relax." Something cold and hungry flickered in her eyes. "Get your leg cleaned up. I can smell it. It's - distracting."
"See if you can build the fire," I said, and slipped into my room, closing the door behind me. I went into the bathroom and closed that door too. My first-aid kit had its own spot on one of the shelves. I downed a couple of Tylenol, slipped out of the remains of my rented tux, and cleaned up the cut on my leg. It was a shallow cut, but a good four inches long, and it had bled messily. I used disinfectant soap with cold water to wash it out, then slathered it in an antibacterial gel before laying several plastic bandages over the injury, to hold it closed. It didn't hurt. Or at least I didn't pick it out from the background of aches and pains my body was telling me about.
Shivering again, I climbed into some sweats, a T-shirt, and a flannel bathrobe. I looked around in my closet, at a couple of the other things I'd made for a rainy day. I took one of the potions I'd brewed, the ones to counter the venom of the Red Court, and put it in my pocket. I missed my shield bracelet.
I opened the door to the living room and Susan was standing six inches away, her eyes black with no white to them, the designs on her skin flushed a dark maroon.
"I can still smell your blood," she whispered. "I think you need to find a way to hold me back, Harry. And you need to do it now.""Susan," I said quietly. "Give me your hands."
She opened her eyes and looked at the soft, fine rope. "That won't hold me."
"I made it in case an ogre I pissed off came visiting. Give me your hands."
She was silent for a moment. Then she shrugged out of her jacket, and held her hands out, wrists up.
I tossed the rope at her and whispered, "Manacus."
I'd enchanted the rope six months before, but I'd done it right. It took barely a whisper of power to set the rope into motion. It whipped into the air, silver threads flashing, and bound itself around her wrists in neat loops.
Susan reacted instantly, going completely tense. I saw her set herself and strain against the ropes. I waited, watching for a full half a minute before she started shaking and stopped trying to break them. She let out a shaking breath, her head bowed, hair fallen around her face. I started to move toward her, when she stood up, legs spread enough to brace herself firmly, and tried again, lifting her arms.
I licked my lips, watching. I didn't think she'd break the ropes, but I'd underestimated people before. Her face, her too-black eyes scared me. She strained against the ropes again, the movement drawing her shirt up, showing me her smooth brown stomach, the winding swirls and barbs of her tattoo red and stark against her skin. There were dark bruises over her ribs, and patches of skin that had been scraped raw. She hadn't come away from our tumble from Martin's car without being hurt, after all.
After a minute more, she hissed out a breath and sat down, hair a tumbled mess around her face. I could feel her eyes on me more than I could actually see them. They didn't feel like Susan's eyes anymore. The tattoos stood out against her skin, red as blood. I backed off, again deliberately, calmly, and got the first aid kit out of the bathroom.
When I came back out, she flung herself at me in blinding speed and utter silence. I'd been expecting as much, and snapped, "Forzare!"
The silver rope flashed with a glitter of blue light and darted toward the ceiling. Her wrists went with it and she was pulled completely from the floor. Her feet swung up, and she twisted, again in silence, fighting the bonds on her. She didn't get free, and I let her swing there until her legs had settled again, her toes barely touching the floor.
She let out a quiet sob and whispered, "I'm sorry. Harry, I can't stop it."
"It's okay. I've got you." I stepped closer to examine the injuries on her midsection and winced. "God. You got torn up."
"I hate this. I'm so sorry."
It hurt me to hear her voice. There was enough pain in it for both of us. "Shhhh," I said. "Let me take care of you."When they had sex in Death Masks, Dresden had to tie her up with magical rope and avoid her front because she would have killed him otherwise. When she lost control in Changes, Winter Knight Harry had to punch her in the face full-strength to hold her backI climbed out of the hole, then over and around a couple of dump trucks' worth of rubble, and hurried over to Susan's side on the opposite end of the ring.
She lay limp and still. There were small cuts and bruises all over her. Her leather pants had hundreds of little holes in them—the shards of bone from the exploding vampire skull, I guessed. Her spine was bent and twisted. I couldn't tell how bad it was. I mean . . . Susan had always been fairly limber, and I had more reason to know than most. With her entire body limp like that, it was hard to say.
She was breathing, and her tattoos were still there, now bright scarlet. Her pulse was far too slow, and I wasn't sure it was steady. I leaned down and peeled back one eyelid.
Her eyes were black, all the way through.
I licked my lips. The tattoos were a warning indicator the Fellowship used. As Susan's vampire nature gained more influence over her actions, the tattoos appeared, solid black at first, but lightening to bright red as the vampire within gained more control. Susan wasn't conscious, but if she had been, she would have been insane with bloodlust. She'd nearly killed me the last time it had happened.
It was sort of what had started this whole mess, in fact.
Her body was covered in injuries of various sizes, and I thought I knew what was happening. It was instinctively drawing upon the vampire portion of her nature to restore her damaged flesh—but as she had not provided that nature with sustenance, it could offer her only limited assistance.
She needed blood.
But if she got it, woke up, and decided that she just had to have more . . . yikes.
Her breathing kept slowing. It caught for a moment, and I nearly panicked.
Then I shook my head, took my penknife from my duster's pocket, and opened a cut in my left palm, in an area where the old burn scars were thickest, and which still didn't have a lot of sensitivity.
I cupped my hand while I bled into my palm. Then, very carefully, I reached down and tipped my palm to carefully spill a few drops into Susan's mouth.
You would have thought I'd just run a current of electricity through her body. She quivered, went rigid, and then arched her back into a bow. Strange popping sounds came from her spine. Her empty black eyes opened and she gasped, then stared blindly, trying to find my hand again with her mouth, the way a suckling baby finds its meals. I held my hand over her mouth and let the blood trickle in slowly.
She surged in languid motion beneath my hand, savoring the blood as if it were chocolate, a massage, good sex, and a new car all rolled into one. Two minutes of slow, dreamy, arching motion later, her eyes suddenly focused on me and then narrowed. She snatched at my arm with her hands—and I drove my right fist into her face.
I didn't pull the punch, either. If her darker nature was allowed to continue, it would destroy her, killing me as a by-product of the process. Her head snapped back against the ground, and she blinked her eyes, stunned.
I stood up, took a few steps back, and stuffed my injured hand into my pocket. I was tired, and feeling shocky. My whole arm felt cold. I didn't stop falling back until I was sure I could shield in time to hold her off if she came at me.
I recognized it when Susan checked back in. Her breathing slowed, becoming controlled and steady. It took her four or five minutes of focus to push her darker self away from control, but eventually she did. She sat up slowly. She licked at her bloodstained lips and shuddered in slow ecstasy for a second before dashing her sleeve across her mouth and forcing herself to her feet. She looked around wildly, a terrible dread in her eyes—until she spotted me.
She stared at me for a moment, and then closed her eyes. She whispered, "Thank God."
I nodded to her and beckoned for her to stand at my side.
I waited until she reached me. Then we both turned to face the Erlking.
And the one time that she lost control without anyone there to help her, she became a Red.
There's a reason why someone like Martin has Willpower 8.
Thats what it requires to not fall to temptation for that long
Their condition can be moderated by avoiding combat having a full stomach and staying the fuck away from other people which can literally be done in any Monastery in South America or any flat plain in South America or any forest in South America or any isolated place in the world on any boat on any vessel where there are just not that many other people just limiting contact with other people and not getting into situations where there's a lot of loose blood would be enough to manage their condition.
I'm not saying it's nice I'm not saying it's good I'm saying that they can live like that for an indeterminate amount of time. In the time it takes us to fix one of them a bunch of them can be made if they cannot help expedite the conflict with the red Court then we would never be able to finish fixing them they would always be more half Reds they are literally a symptom of a problem if they cannot help us fix the source then we will never be able to stop cleansing them and if we doing it for free we are wasting our time.
Opportunity costs exist our Essence is not actually free nor our willpower or our time. Not to mention the fact that every time it cleansed one of them our disguise would fall we would be signaling to everyone in South or Central America that we are here every time we fixed one of their membership.
If they cannot in any way materially help the situation with the red court or affect how much time that we have on hand to assist them then assisting them is at an active detriment to our overarching goals of defeating the red court or protecting reality every hour and five Essence we spend on them is better spent elsewhere if they cannot provide any level of assistance.
That's not even a joke on some level even if we very specifically decided to just take to the field and go to location after location after location of red Court assets and Destroy Everything while taking on a non-human disguise it might cost less than five Essence and it would definitely take less than an hour even if we didn't meet any of their Dukes even if we didn't meet any of their nobility it would still be materially better for the entire situation involving to half Reds to do that then help them 1 hour and five Essence at a time.
As every red Court vampire can make more of them. They are a symptom of a greater issue a symptom that is very specifically one that can be pressed into remission rather than needing active management.
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