The Vampire Curse

by Ali Winters

  I am on my own. Maybe I always have been and just never realized it.

  I roll over to my other side and face the window. The drapes are pulled back, revealing the pure midnight sky, dotted with stars made brighter by the fact that there's no moon. In the distance, demons howl. They are quieter here, their cries echoing like a mournful song.

  I want more than this life, more than the shallow dreams of a future I once worked for. Comfort isn't enough anymore.

  Now that I'm no longer indebted to Alaric, I am free to go anywhere I wish, be anyone I want to be…

  I feel a tug deep inside me, calling me to something else, something far from here. For weeks, my thoughts have drifted to a face I should forget.

  Should, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t.

  Darkness has wrapped itself around my heart and won’t let go. I want to surround myself with it until it becomes part of my very being.

  No one in their right mind would entertain such thoughts.

  But I do.

  I bolt upright and swing my legs off the bed, my fingers digging into the mattress. My breaths come short and quick as if I’d been running for miles.

  The realization strikes me hard and swift. There is nothing left for me here, nothing left of the girl I used to be. If I force myself to stay and pretend I belong, I would be miserable.

  I will find a place far away to start over with a new name, where no one knows who I am or that I’ve been claimed.

  I push off the bed, my legs weak with anticipation. Striking a match, I light the tallow candle beside the bed and kneel in front of my mostly empty trunk. I reach in and pull out the crumpled letter Alaric sent with the night-forged dagger, and smooth it out.

  Keep this with you at all times.

  I don’t understand why Alaric released me, but it still stings. He took the time to write this and wrap the dagger as some kind of parting gift, yet never bothered to say goodbye.

  I clench the letter until my fingernails pierce the paper. Alaric lied to my face. When Kathrine’s letter arrived, he’d feigned surprise.

  I push back the sudden sting of tears. I am an idiot.

  I thought, despite everything, we were past lying to each other.

  Holding the letter over the candle, I wait for it to catch. The edge glows red and turns black as the fire consumes it until each word of the single sentence is gone. I shake what's left of the paper, extinguishing the flame until only embers smolder. I let go, watching it flutter to the bottom of the trunk where nothing but a few flakes of black ash remain.

  The faint lightening of the sky that precedes dawn edges the horizon.

  I blow out the candle then cross to the armoire, pulling out a single outfit. My fingers shake with anticipation as I unfold the dark, doeskin trousers and matching blouse. I waste no time changing into them, then slip into my boots. Once I’m dressed, I slide the night-forged dagger into the side of the right one.

  I look around the room. There is nothing here I care about, nothing I want, except for my book.

  I grab the satchel that held my food on the way here and set my book on the bottom. Next, I go to the desk where a tray of bread and cheese with dried meats sits. One of the servants must have brought it up when I was sleeping. I wrap those in the cloth napkin then place them in the bag.

  I don’t care about the necklaces and earrings Alaric had sent with me, but I pack those too—they will come in handy for trading for food and lodging. With that, I’m ready.

  I stand with my hand hovering over the doorknob. I still don’t have more than a vague idea of what I’m going to do, or where I want to go, besides away from Littlemire. I could go west, or south… or east, toward Windbury.

  Biting down on my lip, I cringe. I am free, and still, I think about returning to Alaric even though he'd ordered me to never return.

  But anger slices again and again at my heart over his deception, clouding my judgment. I know it does, and I don’t care. I grab onto it, using it as an excuse.

  I will give him a piece of my mind, then I will draw blood with this dagger—truly earning my freedom. This is what I want. It is. So why does it feel like I am trying to convince myself?

  I push away the thoughts that threaten to distract me… the thoughts full of doubt.

  Once I have earned closure with Alaric, I could head south, to Stormvale or north to Sangate.

  It is a two, or three, day ride from here to Windbury. Kathrine will be upset if I leave before she gets back. I will never see my sister again. That thought hurts, but it can’t be helped.

  I should leave a letter for her, but if I don’t leave now, I’m afraid I might find some excuse to put it off. I will already be taking one of the horses.

  Stealing in the past has never bothered me before, but now it will look bad for Kathrine. Who wants to be known for having a thief in the family?

  When I stop for the night, I’ll write a letter then send someone to deliver it and the horse.

  It’s not a good plan, but it’s all I have. It’s brash and risky, but my mind will never be at peace if I don’t confront him. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

  The room lightens as the sun climbs higher.

  I pull open the door and stride out, moving fast and quiet through the halls until I’m outside, greeted by the first rays of morning light peeking over the horizon and the smell of frost on the air.

  The wailing of demons lessens, retreating along with the shadows they are bound to.

  Desperation crawls over my skin as I jog toward the stables, still keeping as silent as possible. They will wake soon, and I have to be gone before that happens.

  I move through the stables. A few horses peek their heads out of their stalls as I pass, but I ignore them all and head for the one mare I know. I’m not an experienced rider, but the two of us are familiar with each other from spending the past month together.

  I fumble with the saddle, the cold numbing my fingers, made worse by the sense of urgency building. Eventually, I manage to get the tack on the mare. I lead her out of her stall and to the open door of the stable before mounting.

  Once seated, I take a deep breath and go over my plan one more time. I will confront Alaric for his deception, demand answers to my questions, thank him for what he’s done for Kathrine, and then… then I will go wherever my feet take me.

  The rooster cries, causing my heart to jump into my throat. I nudge the mare into a trot, leading her down the drive and toward the main road.

  As we leave Littlemire behind, I look back and send a silent hope to the fates that Kathrine will live a long, happy life with her new husband.

  I face forward once more and ask the mare to run.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Clara

  I ride for hours before slowing the horse to a walk. I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and now hunger sends sharp pains through my belly. Nerves and stress had kept the pangs at bay until now. I pull the satchel across my shoulder, rest it on my lap, and reach for a chunk of bread. I bite into it, munching as the horse sways beneath me.

  After three bites, I put the rest back into my satchel. Uncertainty gnaws on me. I'm not sure returning to Windbury is a good idea. But just thinking of not doing it fills me with irrational panic.

  It will be dangerous, and I'm not sure it's worth it. All reason tells me it's stupid and reckless. I would be better off forgetting about Alaric altogether… but the more I think about the lies and deception, the easier it is to dismiss the risk.

  Several hours have passed. The fine mist that has clung to the forest all day, thickens. I reach forward and stroke the mare’s soft neck. Her absence has probably been noticed by now, and maybe even mine.

  The idea of slowing or stopping sets me on edge, but as the edge of Durford comes into view, I lead the mare to the riverbank, relishing the chance to stretch out my stiff muscles.

  I dismount and let the mare drink her fill. When she’s done, I feed her the apple slices from my bag. They
aren’t as fresh after several hours, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

  I kneel at the edge of the water. The mare dips her head, ripping up the sparse blades of grass. I cup my hands and splash water over my face.

  The mare shifts anxiously, then the steady beat of hooves disappears into the distance. By the time I clear my eyes of water, the horse is happily trotting back the way we came.

  I suppose that’s what I get for not keeping hold of the reins.

  “Traitor,” I mumble.

  I suppose she’ll make it home sooner this way. And I’m close enough to town that it doesn’t matter.

  Getting to my feet, I dust off my legs and walk across the bridge and into town.

  My legs ache, more specifically, my thighs. It had taken far more muscle coordination to ride today than it had during the hunts.

  I welcome the chance to stretch my muscles. The last time I was here, I never saw more than the town’s inn. It’s smaller than I expected. The sidewalks are narrower than those of Littlemire, and it lacks the thick layer of soot that covers the buildings and streets there.

  No one spares me a second glance as I move through the streets. I never thought I’d be so happy to go unnoticed.

  A warm hand grabs hold of mine and tugs. I spin to face whoever it is, but I don’t meet anyone’s gaze. I look down and into the smiling face of a young girl. Her long hair and shining large eyes are familiar.

  It takes me a moment, but I finally place her—she’s the girl I pulled from the river.

  “Hello there,” I say, crouching down to eye level. I rest my palm on the top of her head.

  A snarling woman appears behind her. I blink and the girl is jerked away.

  “Stay away from her,” the mother hisses.

  I straighten, dropping my hand to my side. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I didn’t know what you were at the river, but I do now. I won’t let you attack her again. You can’t deceive me,” she says, pulling the girl behind her and hiding her behind billowing skirts.

  Attack? What kind of demon shit—I saved her daughter after she fell in the river.

  “Demon’s whore!” she shouts, clutching the child tighter against her and points her gnarled finger in my face.

  I stumble back at the outburst as if it were a physical blow.

  This woman knows who I am. She doesn’t care that I saved her child, only that she saw me with a vampire. And because I am claimed, she has twisted the facts.

  Even though she had thanked me at the time, I never expected it—I never wanted it. But I don’t deserve her cruelty.

  There is no reasoning with someone like this. I turn from her and walk several blocks closer to the inn. The further I get from the furious woman, the more my shoulders hunch. Even keeping my head down, I can feel the gaze of the townsfolk on me as I pass.

  Whore… she had spat the word at me—as if she knew anything about the situation. She said it with such derision, such disrespect.

  It wasn’t the words “demon’s whore” that hurt, but the venomous tone, the hate… the unfettered cruelty in her voice.

  What a horrible person. I can only hope her wretchedness has no more reason to come out and infect that sweet girl of hers.

  The mist that has hung on the air for the entirety of the morning finally becomes a soft drizzle. It’s the perfect end to a demon shit day.

  At long last, I reach the inn. The damp seeps into my clothes, but I’m not soaked to the bone… not like the last time I was here.

  The stone facade and crest are unchanged. A rueful smile ticks up one corner of my mouth. This might be the first thing I’ve come across since my return that hasn’t changed.

  The sign still reads The Grand Manor. Even the worn paint remains chipped in the same places.

  I push open the door and blink to adjust to the dim lighting. The wallpaper and polished counter are all the same. Though now, a thin layer of dust coats the dark wood. It appears they only keep up with that sort of detailed work during the claiming.

  The innkeeper spots me at once and raises a thick, white brow in question. I am the only one in the lobby. An older gentleman reclines in the sitting room on the right, reading a paper.

  I lift my chin and walk up to the counter with all the confidence I can muster. Without breaking eye contact, I dip my hand into my satchel, pulling out one of the jewelry pieces, and plunk it down on the counter.

  “I need a room and a hot meal.”

  The burly man leans forward, resting one arm on the counter. He takes his time sizing me up.

  “I remember you,” he says slowly, in a low voice.

  I say nothing. I won’t deny who I am, but I’m not stupid enough to announce it either.

  Reluctantly, he drags his gaze away from me and looks down at my payment. He plucks it off the counter with two meaty fingers and brings it close to his eye to examine it.

  “Did you steal this?” he barks the accusation. “You were a scrappy little thing the last time you were in here.”

  “Of course not.” I narrow my eyes and infuse as much steel into my words as I can, and unflinchingly meet his gaze.

  He says nothing for a long time, then grunts. “You know there’s a punishment for those who run from their masters. I hear it’s almost as bad as that of a slayer.”

  Swallowing delicately, I lift my chin a fraction higher and say, “I didn’t run away.”

  At least, not this time.

  Grumbling under his breath, the innkeeper pockets the necklace and turns around to survey the wall of keys before snatching one, and smacking it down on the counter.

  “Wait here,” he says. He moves from behind his counter and walks into the dining room, letting the doors swing closed behind him.

  I take the key, gripping it in my hand. The warmth from my body seeps into the metal as I wait.

  In a moment, the innkeeper returns with a covered tray. Passing me, he jerks his head and orders me to follow.

  This time we don’t go to the top floor but stop on the second, halfway down the hall. He opens the door, motioning with a jerk of his head for me to step inside.

  “Your meal,” he says, shoving the tray into my hands.

  It nearly tips over as I take it. There's not much, some soup, not even warm enough to give off a curl of steam, a small chunk of cheese on the plate has a small patch of white mold covering half of it. I frown at the stale hunk of bread that looks like he ripped it off a loaf with his bare hands.

  “You have two nights here with that trinket. If you want to stay longer, then you’ll have to find your own meals or bring coin,” he says.

  “It’s worth more than at least double that,” I protest.

  He narrows his eyes, taking me in. “Consider it payment for not reporting you.” Then he shuts the door with more force than necessary.

  I take in the cramped quarters. Smaller than the room I shared with Alaric. The windowpanes are covered in a thick layer of dirt, obscuring the view outside.

  Setting the tray on the bed, I set to work making a fire. Once the flames catch, I strip and lay my clothes out in front of the fire to dry. Even this simple act makes me think of Alaric.

  Alaric. There is his name again.

  It’s sometime in the late afternoon, but I am already exhausted. I plop on the bed, and a cloud of dust plumes up around me. It’s lumpy and creaks, sitting in its broken frame at a slight angle, but I’m too tired to care.

  I look at the meal as I pull my dagger from my boot and start to slice off the unappetizing bits before consuming the bland stew. The bread and cheese I save to wrap up and place in my satchel.

  Sorting through my contents, I still have some food I originally packed, but it’s not much.

  I’d given the innkeeper my most expensive piece. The bracelet and earrings I have left are not enough to buy a horse.

  Setting the empty tray outside the room, I lock the door and settle into bed, lying at an angle to keep my head above my feet.

/>   I stare at the ceiling, drumming my fingers on the mattress. I could relieve some townsfolk of their coin, but I’m afraid my face might be too recognizable.

  It looks like it will be another early morning at the stables.

  Despite my exhaustion, I toss and turn.

  What had Alaric expected me to do when he sent me away and told me to never return? Even though he was responsible for arranging Kathrine’s marriage, he had to know I couldn’t stay with her.

  The more I think about his actions, the more I don’t understand. The questions build upon themselves, multiplying.

  Did he even care? I scoff into my pillow. Of course, he didn’t care.

  At some point during the night, I manage to drift off to sleep, only to wake again and again. Every lump in the mattress feels like an elbow jutting into my spine, and every other muscle unfortunate enough to come into contact with it.

  At some point the drizzle turned into a storm that rages, rattling the windows, and the rain leaves streaks in the dirt. It’s loud enough to drown out the howling of demons.

  Near dawn, the storm settles to a soft patter.

  I will not be sleeping anymore, not here, not tonight. I push up and groan. Every muscle in my body is stiff and aching.

  I slip into my now dry clothes and sling my satchel over my shoulder then unlock the door, leaving the key on the bed.

  The inn is near silent. The only sounds are the occasional snoring from behind closed doors.

  I make my way down the stairs, all too aware of every creak they make beneath my otherwise silent steps.

  Light guilds the edges of the trees as I step outside. The air is damp and cold, but not unpleasantly so. It takes some time to find the stable, but when I do, I am glad to find it quiet and void of other people.

  I pause at each occupied stall, finally settling on a black and gray dappled horse, tall and muscular but lean. This one looks built for running.

  It takes me longer to saddle this one than the mare I’d grown used to, but eventually, I manage it. This one has more energy and spirit in him. I expect to cover more ground today. I made it to Littlemire in less than two days by carriage. I see no reason why I won’t reach Windbury before nightfall.