Page 5 of Death Comes for Her
Addictive. Intoxicating. Worst of all—arousing.
An unwanted throbbing persisted between my legs, beating in time with the aches and pains flaring through my body. My underwear stayed soaked, drenched with a revolting arousal I couldn’t control.
At least being nearly drained of all my blood, I remained too out of sorts to watch the vampire soldiers and their inebriated orgy at night. The undead were already wild creatures of savagery, and my blood on their tongues made them uninhibited. Lustful frenzies ended in raucous snoring, but I slept through it all, dreaming of a home long lost and unwelcome desires that made me a traitor to my kin.
Bits of conversation came through during the daytime hours of riding under a crimson brushed sky. Vaguely aware of their voices, I knew they drank and drained two of the human captives they’d taken from the village. The only thing keeping them from draining me dry was the hope for a reward from my capture.
Dazed and doped up on venom and weakened by a lack of food or water, I didn’t notice when dawn rose on the third day of travel. I didn’t notice when the vampires quieted, or that theland changed around us. The sprawling wilderness shrank at our backs and a sprawling estate emerged from the distant darkness.
Lacking the shield of trees, a crisp wind blew over my face, cooling my overheated, tear-stained cheeks. I must have had a fever because even in the chilly morning my body shook, nearly convulsing. That lick of icy air blasting over my face reached into my mind and pulled pieces of me back from the darkness.
I blinked through blurred, strained eyes to take in the new scenery. A tall wrought-iron fence speared toward the bloodied canvas overhead. The short, manicured grass split apart on a wide paved road leading to the largest building I’d seen in a decade.
It was no palace of gold that reached for the sun, but it was impressive in a haunted, gothic sort of way. Arched paned windows appeared red under the ruby moon, and the black brick seemed to glisten with layers of dried blood—maybe that was just the venom in my system obscuring my rational mind. Tall towers sported more wrought-iron spikes and menacing stone gargoyles that leered as if they might come to life and bite off the head of any intruders.
As the horses trotted down the lane, a haunting, dreadful howl echoing over the lawn straightened my spine. My head lolled, heavy and spinning as I searched for the source of those sounds.
I’d heard wolves before… but that was something primal and tormented.
The horses twitched and grew noisy with unrest. Vampire soldiers hissed and tensed, trying to soothe their mounts through their own discomfort.
Somewhere in the corner of my eye, a lumbering shadow stalked across the lawn. The distance failed to hide the shape and menacing glint of the beast's yellow, glowing eyes.
The Ambrose Manor utilized werewolves as guard dogs. No surprise, but unsettling all the same. I’d never seen a werewolf up close and prayed that one stayed far away.
Unless the beast had half a mind to snap my neck. Then it would be a welcome addition to my miserable circumstances.
Blinking through the cloud in my mind and the pulsing in my body, I made out flashes of neatly manicured red flowers in the estate’s shadow, and vines of ivy creeping along the first floor of the manor and curling around the windows.
But it was the odd encased luminescence that stole my focus as we neared. Orbs of yellow-golden light were contained in glass at various posts. Some mounted on iron posts lining the end of the lane and more on either side of the grand front doors of the entrance.
Fire? No, they didn’t flicker or waver. I would have felt a lingering energy of magic if that were the case. So, non-magical.
Curious.
The howling must have alerted the manor to the arrival of guests. Attendants flitted through the front doors to greet the soldiers, taking the reins of their horses and speaking in quick, hushed tones. Or maybe my ears were ringing too loud to make out their words.
Captain Eryx, my designated handler for the past few days, slid off the saddle. His voice grew louder, almost booming with pride as he gestured at me. Through my unclear vision, I just barely made out the attendants’ eyes widening.
Rough hands dragged me from the saddle, likely the captains. Corrupted by venom and enfeebled by a lack of sustenance, my knees knocked together. I wilted like a flower in a drought, and the vampire at my side huffed as he was forced to support me.
Shouldn’t have drained me so much, bastard.
The interior of the manor called upon the same dark, gothic theme as the exterior. Heavy drapes covered the towering windows. The walls were dark and lined with old portraits and décor. More of those odd lights illuminated the glossy floors and shadowed corners, but they weren’t enough to brighten the gloom clinging to the space.
A perfectly creepy example of a vampire’s lair.
The dawning realization of my predicament chased away some of the delusions crowding my mind. The very thing my parents had mutilated me over to ensure my safety now seemed a moot sacrifice when faced with my materializing fate. Those scars had served as a reminder for ten years of what I’d evaded, but where was I now?
In the fucking home of the Ambrose coven.
I should have died with the others. Living without them drained me, turning me into a shell of the young girl who learned to fly holding her mother’s hand… The guilt of surviving had eaten away at what little light remained in me after the vampires won the war.
Maybe it was alright that the vampires had me now. There was no way they’d realize who I was—no, who I used to be. I’d hold out hope that once the generals of the Ambrose coven had devoured what remained of me, my father would forgive me when we reunited in the afterlife.
The last of our line, and maybe the last of the fair folk… perhaps he wouldn’t be so disappointed in me upon my death. At least I didn’t end my life with my own hands, as I’d dreamed of more times than I could count. If the vampires finally had me, it wasn’t really my fault. Eating fairies was in their nature.
But Father had always been stern. Most rulers held their children to unprecedented standards…
