Page 22 of These Eternal Bones
The Vampire of Port Clyde
Molly
Elric was right; the snow wasn’t stopping anytime soon.
As soon as my head left my pillow this morning, I’d slammed my face into the window, another squeal of excitement leaving my chest, seeing my world going from bitter gray to blankets of pristine white.
My sheer nightdress clinging to my legs, tangling them as I bolted for the door, my fingers fumbling with the latch before swinging it wide.
The smile that broke over my face made my cheeks ache as the pile that had fallen against the outside of the door fell into the cabin, dusting my toes.
I didn’t think twice before bounding outside, flinging myself into the pillowy, cold substance.
My entire body let out a deep shiver, but it was only when the touch of the snow burned that I peeled myself from it .
For a moment, the world didn’t seem so harsh.
When I was eight, I’d fallen from the loft of the barn, breaking my finger.
My teeth had gritted so hard, choking on my own sobs as Mother Elina explained to me it needed to be set.
That it would hurt, but it wouldn’t heal properly otherwise.
The Tabot, Captain Faine, and the journey through the woods are all necessary breaks.
I’ll keep going, keep finding the little reasons to smile.
Letting Elric dote on me, I will break all of my bones until I become a version of myself I can tolerate.
Until I become a version of myself the world can’t.
I think it would be beautiful to be as untouched and uncaring as the snow.
Elric
I feel him before he hits my floor of the manor, the Nephilim.
The harsh, radiant heat he seems to give off.
It’s been hundreds of years since he last stepped foot up here.
His unease sings in every pump of his heart as I brush through his blood.
Feeling it in every ounce of my being, I let it surround me as it vibrates, eager to answer the call of its master.
“You called for me.”
He lets out a deep breath as I release my hold on his blood, the very essence of his, as sour and bitter as him.
When my eyes open, I can see the room in a new light, the dim one that always comes from him. Memories littered around decay, the evidence of my madness ripped and torn throughout it all. His eyes land on the bars, a long kept secret, a sick…deviant, selfish desire long held in the dark .
My desperation in its physical form.
She’ll hate you.
My voice is soft, deceptively so. I keep it that way, my rage dragging it deeper. “I suppose I should thank you. You could have handled things more considerately.”
“You were about to–”
I cut him off, my barely concealed anger betrayed by my tendrils as they snap behind me. “Next time you speak to her like that, you die.”
“You’re welcome.” He huffs, his lanky frame eating up the doorway. Nephilim were once thought to be giants. Infallible children of God, I suppose they meant subjectively. What he holds inside him is far more concerning than brute strength.
I see it the moment it gets the best of him… the grief. The rage.
I know it well. I wear it heavy, day in and day out, like an old musty coat.
“So, this is your plan? This is your big solution in the absence of basic decency and restraint?”
His words spark inside me as my tendril snaps out, slamming into his chest, smashing him against the bars. “Careful of your mouth, child.”
“Then why bring me here?! Why show me this!?”
My tendril keeps him pinned while I stride toward him, thoughtfully weaving through the horde.
“So you know the lengths I will go to, that I will stop at nothing. You are new to this, Nephilim. I have had centuries to grieve her. Centuries of madness to bring me here. If you step in my way again, I will open you up and bond her in a pool of your blood. She may have been your friend , but her soul belongs to me .”
His body thuds against the floor. I ignore the tinge of feeling in my chest when he makes no move to stand.
Looking like a man defeated, another thing I recognize all too well.
It’s his words that halt my exit, that make the blackened blood in my veins run just a fraction colder.
“When we first met, I had thought the rumors were wrong. I had watched her smiles and laughs mingle with yours. Served you both, happily, even imprisoned… I had found a fraction of peace with it. I was wrong. You are everything they said. She simply makes us all forget from time to time.”
My chest heaves, that darkness that swirls in my mind, prodding the edges again.
“Tell me, will you forgive yourself this time? Will you sleep at night if she dies in a–”
I blur to him, my actions like liquid venom as I snap his neck, my tendrils dragging him from the room before I lock it behind me, leaving him to collect dust until he rises.
How is it that you can feel guilty for crimes not yet committed?