Page 2 of Once Upon a Dark October

Chapter Two

W hen had the door opened?

I tried to lift my head, but pain spiked through my faltering, torn muscles. It would have been better if this much blood loss and rainy cold had brought on a constant numbness, not hurt.

My fingers shook as I held tight to the archway where the woman’s shadow eclipsed the firelight. An apron splattered with pumpkin guts was tied over her berry-dark day dress. She had a pleasant, round face, with a cheerful-looking dimple teasing her chin. Mouth agape, I watched a few slimy pumpkin seeds patter onto the lacquered wood floor.

Another voice echoed from inside the estate, carrying a slight note of distress somewhere within. “Is she dhampir?”

My knees gave way mid-step toward the threshold and felt myself falling forward again, only this time I was teetering, sinking, unable to stop.

“Doesn’t look like it,” the woman answered as she caught me in her arms. “Are you, then?”

All I could manage was a shake of my head. The regret came swiftly after, for even that simple motion caused fresh agony .

“Not dhampir,” the woman confirmed for the other. “Looks like she’s been attacked or bitten or something, though. Poor thing.”

She guided me over the threshold and into their home, kicking one of the heavy, towering front doors closed with nothing but her bare foot. It shielded us from the onslaught of the misty wind that continued to pound against the windows, howling through the cracks. The warmth of the estate, of the woman’s careful hold around me, felt like another world after that.

“Poor thing,” she said again, and I caught the fleeting glimpse of her sharpened teeth. I poked the end of my tongue around my own, tasting blood in my mouth, but no fang-like points. I wondered how miserable it would be once my own vampiric fangs overtook my human teeth, like an infant with aching gums.

“You’re drenched, shivering up a storm. Morrigan!” Her shout held an echo, as did our halting footsteps. She slipped her arm across my back while she untied her apron, bundling it so the pumpkin mess was tucked away inside. Then the raw, earthy scent chased away some of the blood once she held it firm against my gaping wound. “ Morrigan , you’d better hurry!”

I couldn’t be sure whether it was the gaslit sconces that painted her hair that shade of pale red-gold, or if it was true, as the light had cast a golden shimmer against her rosy skin and the very edges of my world had gone soft and hazy. The estate swam in glittering, dreamy light—high, vaulted ceilings that disappeared into shadow, arched doorways and somber stone floors and a glance of marbled stained glass set in high, arching windows. We lumbered past a magnificent spiral staircase while I dripped watery blood across the carpets.

It was how I imagined the castle must’ve been before it was left to ruin, glorious and terrifying with their ancient architecture.

And yet all of it yielded to Morrigan the moment her crimson gaze fell on me. The world around me seemed to narrow, with her fixed at the center.

Stars above , she’d stolen the breath right from my lungs, and I’d none to spare in my condition.

It was fortunate that the other vampire held my weight, because I would have dropped to the floor. The momentary weakness in my limbs, the catch in my throat, the stutter of my heart could not be blamed now on the monstrous bite I’d suffered.

She had a brutal elegance about her, a sharpness that lay beneath, not only in the contours of her cheekbones, in the steep angle of her jaw. Even amidst my foggy vision, I could sense it. A quiet violence burrowed somewhere in her, but I had no reason to fear her then.

That did not mean those gossiping whispers weren’t without merit.

This is their blood sorcerer, then?

The red of her eyes seemed to soften, worrying for me. Vampires—most of them that I’d met about town and in my work, anyway—had eyes that mimicked the dull grey of an autumn morning, bright but dreary. Not her, though.

I’d only ever seen one other vampire like Morrigan with an intimidating scarlet stare.

Her brow creased, she raked a hand through closely-shorn hair, and the longer strands that fell across her eyes gave the impression of moonlight breaking over the sea. Like her complexion, Morrigan’s hair was pale, a strange, beguiling silver that perhaps skirted the edge of white. It belied her ageless appearance, untouched by time, kissed by immortality.

She rushed to meet us, so close that I could scarcely breathe, lithe fingertips set against my jaw to lift my chin. She stood at least a head taller than me, if not more, the other vampire and I almost identical in height if it weren’t for my stooped form. My soiled apron dragged against her billowing, loose-collared tunic and the fine brocade waistcoat that lay unbuttoned over it.

Morrigan was the silvered edge of the blade in the night. Yet this one had come to my rescue.

Vampires might have been used to the blood, I knew, but it wasn’t the first impression I’d wanted to make.

I wished suddenly that we hadn’t met like this.

“I didn’t—” I winced as she held my face, prodding around my eyes, pressing her soft fingertips against my cheeks as if searching for something.

The lines in her brow deepened, and it left me to wonder if the bite had finally begun its manifestation. I didn’t feel much different, though it would be difficult to tell amid the loss of blood. And I’d already become too distracted by the scent of her. Cloying and sweet, ripened apples and a trace of lavender on her skin.

Every other thought and worry drifted away, my mind enchanted by her haunting spell. Was that the work of her violent sorcery? A hunter reeling in its prey?

“I didn’t know where else to go.” The words tumbled out like an apology, shivering with the regret that I’d made a mistake by trudging up this hill. They trembled with autumn cold, settled damp in my bones along with the fear.

My fingers turned numb, bunching into fists at my sides. The breath in my lungs sputtered again, and despite the blood coating my tongue, the back of my mouth ran dry.

But her hold on me was gentle, and kind, and I could feel myself sinking once more. The depths would be fathomless scarlet. Yet it didn’t feel quite like drowning. More like lounging in a bath, soothing and blood-warm.

“It’s all right, darling,” Morrigan answered, and again, my knees wobbled, the pulse rushing through my ears with a thudding roar. The other vampire held fast. It was fortunate that I could blame such symptoms on my condition, but Morrigan’s head tilted slightly, perhaps rooting it out. A mercy that I had no more blood within me to spare for the blush that wanted to color my cheeks.

“Let’s have a look at you.”

“She’s lost a lot,” her companion said.

Morrigan nodded. “I sensed as much.” Her words commanded a sort of cryptic authority. “I only want to see it.”

Once the makeshift bandage was lifted—spilling out a few more pumpkin seeds—Morrigan sucked in a breath. She pried at the ruined neckline of my dress, fingers brushing along my collarbone, then tracing upward. The air seemed to thin, the tiny hairs at the back of my neck standing on end, the warmth in the room suffused with an iron-scented tang. Even the gaslights blustered. And then the blood within me gave an unnatural pulsating shudder, the epicenter fixed on the jagged skin of that ruinous bite.

I shivered, and Morrigan’s warm fingers withdrew from my damp, chilled skin. Her nails were lacquered pitch-black, I realized. I noticed it even before my blood staining her fingertips. It was in fashion now amongst the wealthier socialites in the harbor after some well-to-do merchants had brought it ashore with them.

Morrigan spared a glance beyond my shoulder to her companion, which did not help the weary panic building once again in my chest. When her gaze returned to me, I noticed how hastily her expression masked whatever had been there a moment before.

“This is a vampire bite,” Morrigan confirmed to her companion. “How much time has passed since?”

I’d wanted to shake my head, but the pain was too great. “The wharf,” I tried to tell them. “I don’t know. I made it here, I thought—”

“It’s all right, don’t talk.” The other vampire hushed me, sweet and lilting, pulling mist-laden hair off my face where it had stuck to my skin. “I’d guess fifteen minutes, twenty at most if she walked all this way.”

“Gwen, help her into the parlor, make sure she’s comfortable,” she told her companion, who replaced the apron against my wound. The smell of raw pumpkin was beginning to cause a revolt in my stomach. “We don’t want her losing consciousness on her feet. Or at all, if you can manage to keep her awake.”

The room wavered, the edges of my vision more washed out than before, the corners gathering more shadow. The urgency of Morrigan’s tone left me ill at ease. The Turning must have been progressing toward that inevitable, immortal end. I’d felt sure that I was ready for it, but not prepared . What would it be like? The prospect of being employed as a charwoman for an unknowable oblivion seemed more bleak than my drafty, moldering seaside room.

Perhaps if Morrigan employed me instead…

Whatever warmth that had embraced my quivering body once I’d stepped inside was waning, Gwen’s apron more heavily saturated with my blood, my hands steadily becoming frigid as a bracing sea wind. Morrigan hurried to the grand spiral staircase, leaning over its curved banister to look up. Moonlight seemed to spill on the edges of her hair, her sharp, beguiling profile, the slant of it filtering from somewhere above and catching dust motes.

“Josephine,” she called. The resonance made my temples pound. “Jo, come quickly! We need your help down here. Bring a few of the warming bottles.”

Gwen guided me into the adjoining parlor room, where I all but collapsed onto a settee. Morrigan had dashed in after us, wrenching a knitted blanket from somewhere as she did. She held it clutched in her fist while Gwen took care in divesting me from my bloodied apron. It was only then that I discovered the weight of my chatelaine was missing.

“Chatelaine,” I whispered, hoarse and thin. “Gone. ”

My life was more valuable, I knew, but in that moment I’d latched onto the sorrow of being parted from it. At least two generations of women before me had made use of it, and it had been the last of my inheritance. The most sacred tool in my current trade, crafted from the finest silver.

“We’ll have a look for it later,” Gwen assured. “With all this blood, you shouldn’t be talking or worrying yourself sick.”

Morrigan draped the blanket over me, but I still shook beneath its warmth. Dropping to a knee at my side, her knuckles bushed my sallow skin when she rested the back of her hand at my forehead. I caught a brief grimace at the corner of her eyes, the air suddenly shifting a little, tainted with an alluring metallic scent. The night’s cold eased somewhat inexplicably then, the dizzy rattling in my head calming, the blood from my wound slowing to a mere trickle.

“Another dhampir?” someone asked from the foot of the settee.

The far edge of the blanket lifted for a moment and then a flood of warmth prickled my skin as it crept past the sodden barrier of my dress. A bed warmer, perhaps, but one that felt more soothing, working quickly to pull the death-chill from my veins.

Another vampire’s face swam into view out of the rippling haze and dappled shadows. Firelight gilded the swell of her cheekbone in profile as it brought out the warm tones in her dark brown skin. Though her brow was furrowed and her vampiric-grey eyes had riled up a storm, she was unflinchingly beautiful with a kind manner about her. She wore a high-collared dress in mourning black, garish stains dusting her fingers and sleeves. Her hair was plaited and twisted into a high, knotted bun.

Josephine, my dull mind remembered.

Morrigan shook her head, watching Josephine round the edge of the settee. “She’s been bitten. ”

“ Bitten ? By who , may I ask?”

“A rogue down by the wharf, from what we’ve gathered.” Gwen swore. “When I find out exactly who , I’ll rip out their bloody fangs from their skull and shove them up their ass and feed their heart to the—”

“ Gwen ,” Morrigan interrupted. “Please. Not now.” Her hand gripped mine and my heart gave a painful lurch. “I know you’re in a great deal of pain, but what can we call you?”

“Elspeth,” I whispered.

Her frowning concentration seemed to fade for a moment in favor of a grin at the corner of her mouth.

“Elspeth.” I thrilled at the way each syllable fell from her lips. “Look at me, Elspeth. Stay right here. Keep your eyes open—that’s it.” Morrigan’s hand tightened around my own. “I know it’s difficult right now, but think back carefully for me. The vampire who bit you—did their blood touch your lips?”

“She’s dreadful pale,” Josephine said. “Needs a clotting tincture. I think I can wring enough out of Gwen’s apron and hers. I’ll be quick about it.”

“No time for that now,” Morrigan countered. “Elspeth. Can you understand me, darling? Did this vampire make you drink their blood? This is important.”

“No.” I groaned and a gasp spilled forth with it.

“Then they did not finish this properly,” Morrigan said. “They took your blood and left you to die.” She swore under her breath. “You aren’t Turning, you’re only succumbing to the wound. But Turning may be the only path to save you now. Do you understand?”

“Vampire,” I breathed. It took all the effort I could summon.

“Undeath,” Morrigan said. “It is your choice. I leave it entirely in your hands—tell me what to do.” She clutched my cold, pale fingers, and finally slipped hers between, bleeding some warmth back into them. “We’ll look after you. You’ll become part of our coven if you so choose. But you must decide quickly. ”

“We should mention that she has never Turned anyone before,” Gwen said.

“No, we should not,” Morrigan answered. “Don’t scare the poor girl.”

“That moment’s already passed,” Josephine said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Do you—know—what—you’re doing?”

Could I trust a reclusive blood sorcerer?

“Of course,” Morrigan assured. “You’ve nothing to fear.”

Gwen lingered at Morrigan’s side, worrying at the fabric of her skirt. “Perhaps one of us should—”

“No,” Morrigan replied, firm and resolute. “I’ll do it.”

But Josephine touched her arm. “Can you trust her with that much power? We’ve only just let her in off the streets. Gwen may have a point for once.”

“Your heart is already promised,” she said to Josephine. “And Gwen’s cannot manage an entanglement like this. She’ll deny it, but she can’t bear it…we don’t know what consequences that would have.”

“I heard you,” Gwen pouted. “Doesn’t mean I’ll admit to you being right.”

“I’ll Turn her. I have to.”

“You sure you’re ready?” Josephine asked again. “New ones are a handful. I know your Turning is too far behind you to remember it well enough, but it’s an endless haze of bloodlust and sex.”

“Oh, but that’s the fun part,” Gwen laughed. “Bella would agree with me.”

My dying heart leapt again, both thrill and panic coursing through the remains of my blood.

“There’s no time, Jo,” Morrigan said, passing her hand across my brow once more. “She’s fading. The two of us will have to take this leap together.”

“Better do it quickly,” Josephine told her, craning her neck toward the towering clock in a far corner. “We have ten minutes until midnight.”

“What happens at midnight?” I asked weakly, delirious, sweat trickling down the side of my face to replace the rainwater and the windy cold. “Is it too late? What is it? Please—”

Morrigan hushed me. “Nothing for you to worry about yet.” Her delicate fingers slid into my hair.

“Gwen,” she called. “Fresh linens from the hall closet. These cushions are soaked through. Warm water for the bloodstains, cold to help draw out the fever. And a clean chemise—try Bella’s wardrobe, she’s about her size, if that’s all right, Jo?”

I heard and felt—but could not see—the bustle of chores around me.

Morrigan’s hand shifted beneath my hair to cradle my head. “This might be easier if you close your eyes, Elspeth.”

“Scared,” I murmured.

“I know.” Morrigan’s palm skirted against the crown of my head. Her unoccupied fingers resumed their place between my own, tight and crusted over with dark blood. “Hold onto my hand as tightly as you’d like. The Turning will hurt, but only for the first minutes. You’ll be feverish for the next few days, though I doubt you’ll remember much of it. My coven will see you through this, I promise. Don’t be afraid.” Her mouth lowered to my ear. “I’ll take care of you.”

Gwen and Josephine exchanged a tense look, but it was Gwen who spoke. “How can we, if we’re—”

“We’ll do whatever we must,” Morrigan insisted, cutting her short, fangs gritted. “I have to make a new bite,” she explained, speaking low and only to me. “And I’ll take your blood with it, and then you’ll take mine. Is that all right? Don’t speak, only grasp my hand.”

I squeezed her hand as tightly as I could manage.

“You’re safe now,” she assured. “No matter what lies ahead, you’re safe. You’ll be all right, Elspeth. I’ll help you through this. ”

Another grasp of her fingers, an answer. A quiet reassurance, one that seemed to tame my fear for the moment. It was a pleasant, tranquil sense of calm, so sudden I had no explanation for it. I held Morrigan’s hand tighter still. I believed her. I had to—she and her coven were all that I had now, the lighthouse to my drowning, lashing, pitch-dark sea.

Morrigan’s fangs broke my fragile skin with ease, her sighing exhale loud over the embers crackling in the hearth. The claiming of her mouth did not hurt, not as the other vampire’s. The pain was nothing more than pricking a finger on a sewing needle, which I’d done countless times. And her bite came with a stillness, a hush that settled over me. My limbs quieted their shaking. She cradled my head, her tongue cleansing the pain, perhaps healing the ravages of the wound before it.

Morrigan’s bite became kiss—the last kiss I’d ever have in this mortal body, as it turned out, intimate and bloody and softer than I’d have imagined. Lulling me so close to eternal sleep that I could feel its ice in my fingers, in the lagging pace of my heart.

And then I took my last mortal breath. I hadn’t realized it until something molten and liquid ran onto my tongue. I salivated at its taste, craving its sweet, dark fragrance as I swallowed it down. It burned the back of my throat like tavern whiskey, its blazing iron setting my veins alight.

Morrigan’s blood. I grasped onto that single thought, sluggish yet filled suddenly with a wanting I’d never known before.

“That’s it, Elspeth.” Her voice drifted in and out, a fitful tempest wind. “Drink.”

My hunger turned ravenous. A vital, perilous tether to whatever vampiric life awaited behind Morrigan’s bite. Her blood surged within me, sweet and metallic on my tongue, flooding the hollow chambers of my dying heart. A wave breaking upon a nighttime shore, her blood swept me away with a power I never could’ve anticipated.

I didn’t stop, clutching her wrist to my mouth with a force that left crescent moon shapes on her near-translucent skin. I drank like a woman parched for weeks, as if I’d tasted a nectar so divine I would perhaps kill for it.

She tasted divine, and I was drowning.

“It’s all right,” Morrigan soothed. “Take what you need. You’ve lost nearly everything.”

“Morrigan.” A warning, though I didn’t know who it had come from.

“Five minutes ’til midnight,” someone else reminded. Their voice was nothing but an echo, drifting farther away from whatever shore I’d been washed upon. But I was consumed, unbothered by whatever the warning meant, heedless of its dangers. “We have just enough time to get her settled for the night.”

“She must take everything she can now, otherwise she might not make it to dawn,” Morrigan said through a restrained gasp. I should have stopped. Something that used to be mortal within me felt a moment’s hesitation, but my instincts had turned keen and almost monstrous.

All I craved, all I could taste, was salt and iron. All that I could see was blood red.