Page 3 of Vampire Solstice (Vampire Girl #5)

Chapter 3

The Curse

I exchange a worried glance with Fen. “Tell me about the beast,” I say.

“Every time someone tries to leave the village, the blizzard drives them back,” the young woman says, her voice trembling. “The beast… it won’t let us go.”

I turn back to the old woman. “What do we need to know about this creature? How do we stop it?”

Her eyes close briefly, her chest rising and falling with effort. “My–” she begins coughing violently, her slight frame shaking. “My jou–” She can’t speak. Each time she tries, the coughing gets worse.

“Stop! She’s dying. Leave her be.” Myra runs to her grandmother, holding her hand as she kneels by her side. “Don’t try to talk.”

“The Mythos called you,” Myra says, still keeping her gaze locked on her grandmother. “If you do not break the curse, you will never be free.”

My breath catches, and my thoughts race to our daughter, safe (I hope) back at the castle. We can’t stay here.

“I’ll do it,” I say, my voice steady despite the knot in my throat.

“Ari,” Fen snaps, his tone sharp with frustration.

I turn to him, meeting his glare with one of my own. “We have no choice, Fen. You heard her. If we don’t do this, we’ll never see our child again.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’ll argue. But then he exhales sharply, muttering under his breath. “Damn it, Ari.”

The old woman’s faint smile returns, even as her eyes flutter closed and her breathing becomes impossibly shallow.

She doesn’t speak another word as the last wisp of a breath slips from her lips, and then she is gone.

There is a long silence in the room, then the young woman lets out a low cry from deep within her core. She holds her grandmother’s hand, her tears flowing freely.

Fen and I stand silently, holding space for this moment.

“She said you would come,” the young woman says, her voice trembling. “She believed you could save us. She used the last of her power to call to you.”

The last of her power. She gave her life for us to be here. As angry as I am that I’ve been ripped away from my child and my responsibilities, I can’t help but feel a deep sadness for what this woman gave up to get help for her own people. Would I have done any differently?

“We will do everything we can to help you,” I say, meaning every word.

The woman nods, wiping at her eyes. “I can show you where the attacks happened,” she says. “But… not tonight. The storm is too dangerous. And–” she pauses, looking at her grandmother again.

“And you need a moment to mourn.”

The woman nods. “Please make yourself at home here. There’s a room upstairs where you can rest. I’ll stay down here with her.”

I take Fen’s hand before he can start demanding more answers. “We will prepare in the morning.”

Upstairs, Fen paces while I sit in front of the bedroom hearth, warming myself.

“We need more information about this beast. About this curse. About these people. We’re at a severe disadvantage,” he says, worry lining his face. I have never even heard of this fae village.

“There’s nothing more we can do tonight,” I remind him.

The sound of the storm outside is relentless, the wind howling like a mournful wail.

Fen crouches beside me, his voice low. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says, his hand brushing against mine.

I nod, though worry still gnaws at me. “We have to help them,” I whisper. “For our daughter.” I look out the window to the village beyond. The people who are suffering. “And for them,” I say softly. I remind myself I am not solely a mother, but also a queen. These people need their queen.

The fire flickers, and I can’t help but wonder if it will be enough to keep the darkness at bay.

Morning comes slowly, the storm easing its grip but leaving the world outside blanketed in an oppressive silence. The house is colder now, the fire reduced to embers in the hearth. Fen and I descend the creaking stairs together, our boots whispering against the worn wood.

Myra stands in the center of the room. She’s bundled in a dark cloak, her hands clasped tightly around a wooden pendant that hangs from her neck. Her face is pale and drawn, her eyes rimmed with red, but she carries herself with a quiet strength that makes me pause.

She doesn’t look up immediately, her gaze fixed on her grandmother’s still form. The old woman has been wrapped in heavy linens, her frail hands folded over her chest. A faint smell of herbs lingers in the air, mixing with the remnants of smoke from the hearth.

“I need to take her to the square,” Myra says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “The village will want to pay their respects before…” She trails off, her throat working as she swallows hard.

“Before what?” I ask gently.

“There’s a ritual,” she explains, her fingers tightening around the pendant. “We send our dead to the forest. To the beast.”

I stiffen, my breath catching. “You give your dead to the thing that preys on you?”

“It’s tradition,” she says, lifting her chin. Her voice is stronger now, edged with defiance. “And it keeps the beast from attacking for a time.”

Fen mutters something under his breath, shaking his head. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand twitches toward his blade.

“Do you want us to help?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.

She shakes her head quickly, almost too quickly. “No. It’s a village matter. You wouldn’t understand.”

I exchange a glance with Fen, who raises a skeptical brow. There’s something she isn’t saying—I can feel it.

“Then what can you tell us about the beast?” Fen asks, his tone sharp.

Myra hesitates, her gaze darting to the floor. “There’s not much more to tell,” she says quietly. “It’s a creature of darkness. It hunts at night, preying on anyone who strays too far from the village. No one who’s seen it up close has survived.”

Fen steps closer, his presence imposing. “What about its habits? Weaknesses? Surely someone has fought it before.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her fingers gripping the pendant so tightly her knuckles whiten. “The beast can’t be fought. It’s too strong, too fast. Our weapons do nothing against it. That’s why we’ve stopped trying.”

I place a hand on Fen’s arm, drawing his attention back to me. “If we’re going to kill it, we need more than stories,” I say, trying to keep my tone calm. “Can you at least show us where the attacks happened? Where it’s been seen?”

Myra’s expression shifts, a flash of something unreadable crossing her face. “You can’t kill it. You have to find a way to break the curse another way. But… if you need to see it, there’s a place,” she says slowly. “Deep in the woods. That’s where it makes its den."

“Can you take us there?” I ask.

She hesitates, her lips parting as if to refuse. But then she nods, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Yes,” she says quietly. “After the ceremony, I’ll take you there.

Fen paces back and forth, his heavy boots thudding across the wooden floor. “Arianna needs a sword. We need warmer clothes. If there’s anything else we can use…”

She nods, her gaze flickering toward the corner of the room where an old chest sits. “There are tools in there,” she says reluctantly. “Blades, traps… things we’ve tried before. I’ll have Micas, the boy you saw last night, fetch you furs.”

Fen strides over to the chest, throwing it open with a single motion. Inside are rusted weapons and broken traps, their edges dulled by time and disuse. He picks up a long blade, testing its weight with a scowl.

“Useless,” he mutters, tossing the blade back into the chest.

“They’re all we have,” Myra says, her voice defensive. “You’re the Midnight Star. Isn’t it your job to protect us? We waited for you. For hundreds of years we waited. Where have you been?”

Her anger rolls over me, turning into waves of sadness. I had no idea these people were trapped here, but it was my duty to learn. How many others are suffering silently under my rule?

“I’m sorry,” I say, stepping forward. “We’ll make do with what we have.”

I look to my husband, my expression encouraging temperance. I hope. “Fen, we have our magic. You have your sword. We’ll take what we can use and figure out the rest later. We’ll scour the forest for tracks–”

“No,” Myra snaps, then looks down meekly, her cheeks flushing red. “You shouldn’t go without a guide. The woods… they change the deeper you go.”

Fen frowns, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean ‘change’?”

Myra glances toward the window, her gaze distant. “The forest isn’t like other places. It’s alive. It shifts, twists. You could walk in circles for days and never find your way out. That’s why some never return.”

A chill runs down my spine. Whatever magic is tied to this place, it’s darker and more dangerous than I realized.

“We will wait for you,” I say.

Myra looks at me, her expression unreadable. For a moment, I think she might say something else, but she turns away, busying herself with preparations for the ritual.

Fen pulls me aside, lowering his voice. “She’s hiding something,” he says.

“I know,” I reply, glancing back at Myra. “But we don’t have time to figure out what. If she can guide us to the den, that’s enough for now.”

Fen doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of preparations. Myra leaves briefly to gather the village for her grandmother’s ceremony, returning with a few villagers who cast wary glances in our direction. They whisper amongst themselves, their fear palpable as they carry the old woman’s body from the house.

Fen and I watch from the doorway as they make their way toward the forest, the silence heavy between us. The storm has eased, but the sky remains dark, the air thick with an unnatural chill.

“She’s scared,” Fen replies, his gaze fixed on the disappearing procession. “Fear makes people reckless.”

I nod, though the unease in my chest only grows. As the villagers vanish into the trees, I can’t help but wonder what Myra isn’t telling us—and what it will cost us when we finally face the beast.