Twice Bitten

by R. G. Emanuelle

  Then, before Rose could even shift her thoughts, Fiona plunged her fangs into Rose's neck. Rose hardly felt any pain but after what seemed like an indeterminate amount of time, she was left with an even hazier feeling than the last time. Her head spun, as did the park. Curiously, Fiona was the only object in her vision that remained stationary. She barely heard her say, "Go. Try it again."

  Rose later remembered feeling Fiona turn her around and gently shove her in the direction of home.

  WHEN FIONA HAD given her instructions, she was fully aware that Rose would not be able to penetrate Ursula's skin. Not because of angles, but because Rose did not have the sharpened canines of a vampire. Rose would attempt the bite again, fail, and return to her once more for guidance. Then, Fiona could make her final move, which would complete the rite. She would draw blood from Rose's neck one last time, and their communion would be final, their fates irrevocable.

  Rose hadn't asked to be a vampire but she was submitting to the conversion willingly, albeit under false pretenses. She was allowing herself to be embraced. Then, she could not blame Fiona, would not hate her the way Fiona had hated Susanna.

  The end justifies the means.

  Biting Rose brought Fiona to ecstasy, but she could not afford to let Rose see that pleasure. She fought every impulse to sigh, to moan, to give in to the corporeal pleasure that increased exponentially each time she bit Rose. It was as if the closer Rose came to becoming a vampire, the sweeter her blood tasted.

  The desire to linger on Rose's flesh was almost impossible to deny--Rose's blood was nectar. But such indulgence would have been dangerous. It may have raised questions if Rose happened to remember any of it. As it was, she would remember the penetration, but not Fiona drinking her blood.

  Fiona had felt Rose's fear, evident in the rapid pulse beneath her lips. The fear would subside, though, and would be replaced by euphoria. That's how it was. Usually. Even she, as much as she'd fought it, had felt the euphoria. So would Rose. And unlike the others before her, Rose did not have the greedy drive that would send her searching for unexplored territory. She would stay with Fiona forever.

  Chapter Twenty

  SLEEP WAS IMPOSSIBLE for Rose that evening. The ominous feeling she had about Fiona was gaining strength. There was an inexplicable oddness about Fiona, something not right. Rose could not give this quality a name but it seemed to live in Fiona's eyes, to vibrate in her voice, to encircle her like a thundercloud. She had tried to ignore it, and she'd been able to avoid it for a while because of her preoccupation with Ursula, but since she'd had to deal with Fiona so closely, so intimately, it was at the surface now, and it practically made her skin itch.

  Still woozy, she brushed back her hair, heavy with the sticky, thick air of a summer night. The hair clung to her neck, so she combed her fingers through it, and they came away clammy with a wetness. A wetness too slippery for summer residue. Squinting in the darkness, trying to see in the vague light of a half moon, she saw that it was blood. When and how had Fiona learned to do this?

  Fiona's second bite still stung. Something deep down inside was telling Rose that something was wrong. Her stomach felt like it was turning to stone and her extremities went numb when she thought about it. But she didn't know what it was.

  She wanted to believe so badly what Fiona had told her about Ursula. Not the part about having been hurt and tainted by a former love, but that she, wallflower Rose, could be her savior. And lover. Fiona had not said that last part, but it was spoken silently, through Fiona's eyes. She hadn't imagined that. Had she?

  She should have known that Ursula would recoil from her. It couldn't be easy for Ursula to be intimate with someone after her horrible experience. How could she be expected to kiss and be kissed when ice water had been thrown onto the coals of her passion? Then again, Rose hadn't tried to kiss her, but what else could Ursula have thought?

  THE NEXT MORNING, Rose returned to Ursula's home. This thing could not be dragged out. If she was going to help Ursula, it had to be now.

  Mrs. Troy let her in and left her in the parlor. A moment later, Ursula appeared.

  "Rose." Ursula looked at her with a mixture of surprise and horror.

  God, she hates me! "I'm sure you don't want me here now, and I don't blame you," Rose blurted.

  "No, I..."

  "Please, I can explain. It's just that..."

  "Yes?"

  "Um..."

  Ursula walked up to Rose and took her hand. "Look, I'm glad you returned. I'm very confused about what happened yesterday. In fact, I was going to pay you a visit this afternoon. Please, let's talk privately." She led Rose upstairs to her room, where she pointed to a brown leather wing chair for Rose to sit. She remained standing.

  Ursula started to sit and then straightened up again. "This whole time I've known you," she continued, "I had no idea..."

  "I didn't try to kiss you, I swear it. I know it seems that way, but you were hurt and you couldn't possibly see me as anything more than an acquaintance right now."

  Ursula smiled. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. I..."

  "I know, of course, that my behavior may have seemed strange," Rose interrupted, "but all I was trying to do was this." Without pause between word and action, Rose lunged toward Ursula, took hold of her head, and bit into her neck once more, like a rabid dog.

  A strange thing happened then. An intense craving to penetrate Ursula's skin overcame her. Almost uncontrollably, she bit as hard as she could. As before, Rose didn't have much success penetrating Ursula's skin, but where last time she experienced a sense of revulsion at the idea of sinking her teeth into another person's flesh, this time a strange desire to feel Ursula's skin break urged her to press even harder, to dig her teeth in until she drew blood.

  "Ahh!" Ursula cried out, pushing Rose away from her. Covering her wound with one hand, she grabbed Rose's arm with the other so that this time she could not run away. "Rose, what is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?" Ursula shook her.

  Standing there, trying to catch her breath, she puzzled over her compulsion. It was almost as if she'd wanted to do it. That idea made her sick, but imagining her teeth cutting through Ursula's flesh made her skin heat with a pervading thrill. She felt like vomiting.

  She tried to free herself but Ursula was stronger and held her in place with little effort. Feeling her humiliation reach new heights, she prayed that she would die then and there. She kept her eyes shut. If she opened them, she would surely see Ursula's disgusted expression.

  There were no words and no movement. Just two hands holding on. When Rose finally opened her eyes, Ursula was staring at her, her eyes compassionate and pleading. Rose fell into her arms and cried.

  Ursula closed her arms around her. "Whatever it is that's troubling you, I'll help you," Ursula whispered. She rubbed her palm up and down Rose's back and as Rose sobbed, she made little hushing noises in her ear.

  Rose pulled away from her slightly. "I'm sorry, but I thought it would help you," she said in broken sobs.

  "Help me with what?"

  "She told me."

  "Who told you what?" Ursula held Rose out farther. "You're being very mysterious."

  It was becoming clear to Rose that Fiona had tricked her. Rose had felt foolish before, but now the humiliation was heating her face and making her nauseated. How could she have fallen for the ridiculous story Fiona had fed her? Why did Fiona do that? Running the story through in her head, now that she was standing in front of Ursula, she realized how absurd it sounded. Yet, there was still something gnawing at her brain that she couldn't quite figure out. And now she would have to demonstrate her stupidity to Ursula by telling her what had transpired with Fiona.

  When she'd finished recounting the story, Ursula stood slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Her brows came together. She stepped away from Rose and turned away from her, toward the window.

  Rose turned away, too, shamed. "I'm sorry, Ursula. I've embarrassed you," she said. "I am a stupid imbec
ile, and I wouldn't blame you if you never want to speak to me again."

  "How did she know?" Ursula asked in a rattled voice.

  "How did she know what?"

  "That I had a female lover?"

  Rose turned around again. With Ursula's back still to her, Rose quickly reviewed the story in her head. Then, it's true? "I don't know."

  Ursula remained facing the windows for a long while. Rose shifted from one foot to the other, wanting to ask her all sorts of questions, but not wanting to embarrass her further or intrude on her thoughts. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore.

  "Ursula? May I ask you something?"

  Ursula turned her head to the side and nodded.

  "Was she really a vampire?"

  As if coming out of a trance, Ursula turned fully around and blinked. "Pardon me?"

  "Was she really a vampire?"

  The look on her face went from distressed to perplexed. Then concerned. "Allow me to ask you a question." She stepped closer to Rose, a fire lighting her eyes. "Are you certain you understood Fiona correctly when she told you that story? Perhaps you misunderstood?"

  "No. I don't think so. She said your lover had been a vampire," she stated, as if repeating a lesson in school. "And she had bitten you and that only someone who loves you can make you love again."

  Realizing what she had just said, Rose covered her mouth with her hand. She had just admitted to being in love with Ursula. This was the nadir of her disgrace. Trembling, she dropped her head. Oh, God. Turn me into a pillar of salt. Just let me die right now.

  Her shame-filled ruminations were interrupted when her head was lifted up by two of Ursula's fingers beneath her chin. Through her tears, she could see the heaven in Ursula's eyes and was transfixed even as Ursula's face moved closer to hers. Their lips touched, softly at first, and Rose's trembling began again. Only this time, it was from the growing excitement in her chest. Ursula slid her hands around her waist and pulled her close. Her mouth pressed hard against Rose's and she flicked the tip of her tongue on Rose's upper lip.

  Rose's breath caught and she opened her mouth slightly to catch Ursula's tongue. She nipped it, then closed her mouth around it. They kissed for several moments, and Rose melted into a joy and a peace that she'd never felt before.

  THOUGHTS FORMED IN Ursula's mind as she held and comforted Rose. Her father's vast library did not exclude books on vampirism, and she'd read about it thoroughly. It all made sense now, and it was the only possible explanation for what Fiona was doing to Rose. The only thing she couldn't account for was how Fiona knew about her love affair with Emily. Well, she'd have to think about that later. Right now, she needed to help Rose.

  Fiona was turning Rose into a vampire, of that she was sure. The signs were all there. Rose's complexion had paled slightly since their previous encounter, and she could feel a frailness that she had not felt before. One cannot lose heartiness like that overnight, unless one was terribly ill. However, she didn't think, in this case, that illness was the culprit, but, rather, it was the drainage of blood. Then there were the little red marks that peeked over the ruffled collar of Rose's dress. Not to mention the fact that she'd lunged for her neck twice with no logical explanation.

  But why did Fiona choose Rose to torment? Rose probably didn't know what was happening to her. How could she? It was not as if vampirism were a common subject. Anyone who spoke of it was considered at least disturbed, if not a devil worshipper. Of course, that was not to say that no one read about it or brought it up in hushed tones.

  Rose was running to her for help, even if she didn't realize it. That was clear to Ursula.

  "Come, I want you to lie down," Ursula said as she pulled Rose toward the bed. Rose, looking tired and worn, complied. Ursula made sure she was comfortable, then went to her father's study. She looked around the vast library. Her father had to have hundreds of books in there. Where had she seen the ones on vampirism?

  Making her way around the room, she scanned the spines of the books, looking for the volumes she thought would help. At last, she got to a grouping of books that encompassed various forms of the occult and the supernatural.

  After poring through the books in search of useful information, she found one book in particular that would be useful.

  A noise startled Ursula and she turned around. Rose stood in the doorway.

  "Are you all right?" Ursula asked.

  "I was restless. And I wanted to know what you were doing. What are you reading?" She moved toward Ursula, her head tilted to read the book Ursula had in her hand. "True Tales of Vampyres. What do you need with that?"

  Ursula took a deep breath. "Sit down." She pointed to a chair.

  "I don't want to sit down. I want to know what's going on. I'm so confused!" Rose brought her hand to her forehead and shut her eyes tightly.

  "All right." Ursula said. "I believe that Fiona is trying to turn you into a vampire."

  Rose opened her eyes and slowly brought her hand down. "What?"

  "For some reason, Fiona has chosen you to sire, as they call it. That's when a vampire turns a mortal into a vampire."

  Rose looked stunned, yet not as much as Ursula would have thought.

  "But why? Why me?" Rose said, with the tiniest of a whimper.

  "I really don't know. But we need to stop her. How many times has she bitten you?"

  "Twice."

  The hard beating of her own heart startled Ursula. Sweet Jesus, I'm in love with her. This revelation led to another, more frightening one: that she had been perhaps only hours away from losing Rose. "Thank God," she said softly. "We're just in time." Gently, she steered Rose to a chair. "We need to discuss this."

  She opened the book in her hand to a page she'd marked with a blue ribbon. "These people recount their true experiences with vampires. They all corroborate one another's stories. Essentially, all the things we believe work against vampires are false. Garlic doesn't work. Crucifixes don't work. Neither does water. Only two things work--puncturing the heart or cutting off the head."

  Rose recoiled and Ursula reached for her elbow. "Rose, don't worry. I'm going to help you. I'm going to do this for you. I'm going to stop Fiona." She stared into Rose's eyes, trying to make her understand.

  Rose gave her a sad little smile. "Yes, I believe that you will help me. But I'm not going to let you do everything. We'll do what needs to be done together," she said, placing a hand on Ursula's cheek.

  Her skin burned where Rose was touching it. Did it show? Could Rose tell just how much she affected her? Along with heat and fluttering in her abdomen, she also felt an overwhelming need to protect her.

  When Rose's loving glance was too much for her to bear, she looked back down at the book in her hands, as a hot flush ignited her head. She cleared her throat.

  "Only these two things would do the job," Ursula continued, "because they effectively cut off the vampire's blood supply." She began reading: "If the heart is pierced it cannot send blood through the veins. It is believed a wooden stake works best because wood is a natural resource that grows from the earth. It is symbolic of both the natural order of things and the fruitful, useful life of the living tree, contrasting the useless existence of the undead. The pathetic grip the vampyre has on its so-called life is no match for the power and duration of a tree. However, if need be, any other item that can puncture the heart will do. Especially effective is a silver dagger, silver being a powerful earthly element known to inhibit unearthly creatures. Any other part of the body that is pierced would damage the physical vessel of the vampyre but it would not die, since it is not really alive and feels no pain, as such. It merely exists and heals itself. If the creature is beheaded, the vampyre cannot partake of its prey and its earthly vessel cannot be mended."

  Rose let out a long, heavy sigh. "We must kill her."

  "Well, she's already dead. But, essentially, yes. We must destroy her." Ursula tucked the blue ribbon marker into the seam of the book and closed it. "Sounds simple enough. But k
illing a vampire must be something that you either do with all your conviction, or die trying."

  Rose turned her head to the shelves of books. Her eyes were wide and her breathing heavy. "A vampire. I cannot believe that such things exist."

  "It is rather difficult to comprehend. But they must, else why would so many write their experiences?'

  Rose placed her hands on a nearby shelf to steady herself.

  "Rose?" She practically jumped out of her chair, nearly tripping on her own skirt hem, and stood next to her. "I know this has been a lot for you but I don't want you to worry. I promise you, I'll take care of this."

  Rose looked at her solemnly. "That's just it. You will help." Her eyes welled with tears. "And you may get hurt. I'll never forgive myself if something happens to you." A tear fell from her cheek onto her sleeve. "I feel as if I've finally found you and I'm so afraid I'm going to lose you."

  "No, you will not lose me." Ursula put her arms around her, giving her the sense of safety and security she knew Rose needed right now. "I promise. Nothing will happen to me."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ROSE AND URSULA sat in the library reading through various books Ursula had pulled from the shelves."The more information we have, the better chance we have of beating her," Ursula said. "And surviving."

  Rose looked up from the book she was studying and leaned forward. "May I ask you a question?"

  "Of course."

  "What...what really happened? With your...your..."

  Ursula placed the book she was holding on the reading table at her side.

  "I loved college," she said with a melancholy smile. "I learned that I was not a freak of nature just because I preferred reading books to crocheting, or discussing politics to arranging orchids in a vase. There were other women who were just as interested in learning as I was," she continued with growing excitement. "Opening up a book made me feel potent. There was nothing in the world I couldn't do as long as I learned about it. Believe me," she said with a chuckle, "I heard more than once the word 'bluestocking' being muttered in my presence."