Poetry & Blood Chapter 14: Weak By Trixie Adara Edited By ALewdEditor
Laura
Tonight was the night.
Laura lounged in her bedroom, alternating between futile attempts to read and frustrating attempts to write. She wanted to be productive, to have something to distract her, but it was all in vain. Somewhere outside the manor, Claire and Emma were bringing an end to the reign of Angelica in this house. Somewhere, they were doing bloody work, ensuring the safety of Laura's plans from revenge.
Even Marcilla's poems did nothing to distract Laura. She had commanded Abby to copy them down slowly for her, though most of them were rooted in her mind. She thought that reminding herself why this was happening, why she was doing all this, would perhaps give her the strength, conviction, or distraction. It failed on that part.
The poems simply reminded her of a Marcilla who was lost to the years, never to be resurrected. That was her goal at first. She hoped that if she enraged Camille, if she trapped her into a corner, the huntress would emerge and feed again. She hoped she would hear that Angelica disappeared quietly, not even good enough for the dungeons. She could imagine Camille leaning down on Angelica, drinking from her throat while the bitchy blonde thrashed and begged. She smiled, imagining the bones crunching as Camille pressed down on her, making her nothing but a human raisin. At the very least, she hoped Emma could take her down to the dungeons again to visit Angelica, bound to a wall and used as an eternal snack for Camille as punishment.
But no. Camille was too weak for that. She was strong enough to bury Marcilla, but too weak to take care of one rogue maid. There was a fleeting hope that Laura could push Camille, could find something to really force Marcilla to come out to play, but that hope was getting thinner and weaker each day. It felt naive to hope that there was any monster behind the mistress of the manor. There was the beaurocrat, the failed writer, the lonely spinster, but there was no monster.
Distracting herself was a key strategy in fighting off the remorse nagging at her. She had sent Emma to do something the poor vampire hated. Emma hated drinking blood from the source, let alone drinking until someone died. It was a necessary cruelty for Laura to force that upon her friend. No one would be as untraceable as Emma, and Angelica absolutely could not be allowed to sit out in the world, unsupervised, and plot revenge. She was a dangerous and persistent enemy. She could not be convinced to silence, so she must be forced.
Besides, perhaps news of the death would come back to Camille. Anything to piss off the lazy vampire was an option worth considering at this point. Camille had become too comfortable, too complacent, with her life. Taking control of the workers in the house, making the feedback of her writing more critical, removing Angelica. These were all attempts to stir Camille into ... something. Anything. She wouldn't mind if she found Camille crying in a corner or smashing things in a rage or giving into baser or more addictive cravings. It didn't matter as long as she did something, anything.
It was a common understanding of writing that to develop a character, you must put them through hell. No one changes without being forced, without suffering. Laura wanted to develop Camille's character, to summon back the glorious being she once was. If that meant she had to bring hell to the manor, so be it.
There was a knock on the door. Laura put down the book of Marcilla's copied poetry and sat up, waiting for the signal. There was nothing.
"Who is it?" she asked. Her heart rammed against her chest. What if it was Camille?
The door handle turned slowly. Laura looked around the room. Was there anything incriminating? Anything that would let Camille know what they were up when her back was turned? There was a stack of papers on her desk, but they weren't Camille's writing. There was no trace of Emma in the room.
There, on the bathroom door, was one of Abby's scarves. Laura bolted towards it as quietly as she could, grabbed the scarf, and threw it into the bathroom. Hopefully that would be enough.
When she turned back around, it wasn't Camille at the door. It was Emma, but unlike Laura had ever seen her before. The thin silver-haired girl was covered and matted with thick and sticky crimson. Her pale skin was marked with it along her hands and forearms. Her white nightgown looked as though the edges had been dipped in a puddle of blood, and a splatter of it went across her gown like a sash. Worst of all was her face. Her mouth and lips were inhumanely red, so dark they were almost purple, and the red covered her chin, dribbled down to her neck, and continued on, darting between her breasts.
But it was more than blood. Emma had a look in her eye that Laura had never seen. She'd seen Emma hungry before. She'd seen the predatory glint in her eyes when she smelled or spotted blood. She'd fed Emma too many times to not recognize it. But this wasn't hunger. This was anger. Emma looked lucid, like she was whenever Laura put her under her power. There was none of the dainty frailty or strange poetry in her body language. Emma looked vicious, as a true nightmare should.
Laura, for the first time, thought of Marcilla when she looked at her lover. She thought of the destruction she had fantasized about, that she had prayed for, that she had worked so hard to bring about. But she didn't whimper with need. She didn't fall to her knees. She didn't quiver with lust. Laura panicked at the sight of a true predator, someone that wanted to kill her, not just enjoy her.
"Emma?" she whispered.
Emma said nothing. She closed the door behind her, smearing the door handle with blood.
"Where's Claire?"
Emma said nothing, stalking towards her prey.
"Did you do it?" asked Laura. She pointed to the Emma's nightgown. "Is that Claire's or Angelica's?" Her voice cracked. "Both?"
Emma lifted one hand and wrapped it tightly around Laura's throat. Laura didn't fight her. She knew Emma was stronger and faster. If she made any sudden movements, it would set her off. She had to tread lightly, to carefully handle the moment. She was afraid, and Emma probably could sense that, but she didn't need to act afraid.
Emma raised her hand, lifting Laura off the floor and sliding her up the bathroom door behind her. Laura's feet dangled and the pressure around her neck tightened. She felt the blood trapped in her face. She felt it pound against her cheeks, against her eyes, but she didn't scream. She didn't flail.
"What are you doing?" she managed to say.
"I should have killed you the first night," said Emma. Her voice was strong, deeper than usual. "I should have snapped your neck and walked away."
"You're a prisoner," choked Laura. "I'm trying to save you."
Emma roared something and let go of Laura's neck, dropping her to the ground. She paced back and forth as Laura tried to catch her breath, her body struck with pain and relief simultaneously.
"Is Claire okay?" asked Laura again.
"She's fine," snapped Emma. "Scared but fine."
"And Angelica?"
Emma turned back to Laura and charged at her. She punched at the door above Laura's head and tore a hole through it. Laura shriveled before the vampire as Emma loomed over her.
"Whose blood do you think this is?" hissed the vampire.
"I don't know." Laura tried to stay calm. She needed to de-escalate the situation. She thought about using her powers to soothe Emma, but if she failed that may only set her off again. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. What happened?"
Emma squinted her eyes, staring deep into Laura. Laura wondered briefly if she should look away, feigning penintence, or if she should maintain eye contact. That was a sign of aggression among alpha's right? Would Emma see it as defiant or respectful to hold her gaze?
Slowly, Emma stood and walked away from Laura, pacing the room again. "It went as planned. She didn't put up much of a fight. Her body is in the river. She's gone."
"Are you sure?" asked Laura. "Did you make -"
Emma bolted back to Laura, picking up the small woman and slamming her against the door behind her. "Yes, I'm sure," she hissed. "I felt the life drain out of her body. I saw her eyes go cold and still. I drank until there was nothing but air in her veins."
Laura shivered at the thought.
"Okay," she said, spreading her arms as though to calm Emma. "I was just checking. I'm sorry." It seemed to work, and Emma slowly let go of Laura, putting her back against the door.
"You have no idea what you've asked me to do," she whispered. "You have no idea what the cost is."
"But it ..." Laura hesitated. Emma was daring her to press, to try to convince her that the world was a better place without Angelica in it, but she couldn't. "You seem stronger, clearer. Why?"
Emma said nothing. She moved Laura out of her way, opened the splintered door, and went into the bathroom. She ran the sink, letting it steam, and started to do her best to wash the blood off her hands.
"I don't know," said Emma. The anger, the danger, was gone from her voice. "My mother said her pregnancy with me was damaged because of the vampirism, that it affected my mind. Perhaps the blood corrects that for a time."
As Laura relaxed, her curiosity starting to get the better of her. "But you've had blood before."
"Not this much," said Emma.
Emma continued to scrub. Her whole body was focused on the task. The bathroom filled with steam, and Laura was sure the water would burn someone else's skin, but Emma didn't stop her determined scrubbing, as though removing the blood could undo the deed.
"If you ..." Laura tried to stop herself, but she had too many questions. Any bit of information about Emma, about making Emma stronger, could help her take down Camille. "If you hunted regularly, you would always be like this?"
Emma glared at her. Laura flinched, but the silver-haired vampire didn't attack. She held Laura still with her eyes, then turned and continued to clean herself. "It isn't worth the cost."
"But -"
"That's what you don't understand. None of this is worth the cost." Emma turned off the water and turned to face Laura. "The youth, the immortality, the strength, the power. None of it is worth having to feel a human body go limp in your arms, to be someone who stalks the night ripping stories from the anthology of creation. That's a murderer's business. There's no real beauty in destruction, and that is all a vampire is capable of."
"And Camille's way is more humane?"
"More humane than death. Though the most humane thing she does is refuse to turn another. Stopping the spread of the disease is the one true kindness she is capable of."
"But think of all the good you could do with a lifetime of -"
"It's not worth this," yelled Emma. She grabbed the front of her nightgown and pulled highlighting the scarlet sash of Angelica's blood across her chest. She looked down at it and grimaced. In a blur, she ripped off the nightgown and threw it into the shower.
Laura gasped. Emma was naked but for the blood on her body. She looked stronger than Laura had seen. Before she was waifish and almost gaunt. Now, she looked lithe and dangerous. Muscle rippled under her skin even as she breathed.
"But doesn't it feel good?" whispered Laura, her eyes drinking in Emma's body.
Laura had gotten too comfortable. She'd forgotten the state Emma was in, and more importantly, she'd forgotten the difference between Emma starved and Emma well-fed. The vampire let out a hiss and charged Laura. She picked her up and carried Laura to her bed. Then, like a professional wrestler, she slammed Laura down on the soft bed.
"What do you know?" she hissed as she climbed on top of Laura. "What cost have you paid?"
Laura tried to speak, but Emma clamped her hands around Laura's throat. "No. Enough from you," said Emma. "You want everyone to work for you while you sit in this safe room and spin your tales, your lies." Emma kept Laura's throat clamped and still as she reached for the industrial strength handcuffs they used to keep Emma pinned to the bed. "But what cost do you pay?" asked Emma as she attached the cuffs to Laura's wrists and then to the bed. "What cost does Laura pay while she sends Claire and Emma and Abby out to do her bidding?"
Emma let go of Laura's throat to bind her feet to the bed. Laura gasped for breath, but each thin line of air burned her bruised esophagus. She tried to feel her neck, to see what damage had been done, but her hands were immobilized. She looked down in time to see Emma finish immobilizing her legs at the opposite corners of the bed.
"Are you willing to pay the cost of your plans?"
"Are -" Laura coughed as the words stabbed her throat. The coughing made things worse.
"Water?" asked Emma, but there was no kindness in her voice.
Laura nodded, desperate for some relief, as Emma went into the bathroom. She returned with a cup of water. Laura lifted her head to drink it, but Emma casually dumped the contents of the cup across Laura's lips. Barely any got down her throat.
"Oops," said Emma.
The little bit of water was enough to let Laura speak. "Are you going to sire me?"
Emma laughed. "Is that what you think this is? A gift? No." Emma reached down and ripped the clothing from Laura's trapped body before she sat on the bed, straddling Laura's stomach. "But you want to know what it costs for me to feel strong. Let me show you."
Without warning or seduction or play or care, Emma bent down over Laura's body and bit her neck. Laura shrieked, and a hand quickly clamped down over mouth. At first, the pain was white and cold. It was sharp and merciless. It was the first second of a cut or stab that lingered for too long, stretching into a minute and past. But as Emma began to suck, to drink, the pain melted into something red and wet. Laura could feel the heat at the wound. The skin around it tingled. Her neck and shoulder burned as all the body's attention was drawn to that one spot.
Then the cold returned. Laura's feet and hands went numb first. She thought perhaps the straps were too tight, that the blood couldn't reach her extremities, but then the cold crept along her wrists and ankles, up her calves and forearms. Her fingers started to tingle and then went numb. Her palms quickly followed as her feet mirrored her hands. It became harder to breath, and her heart rammed against her ribcage, throwing itself against flesh and bone to be free of the quickly dying husk.
Laura tried to writhe. She tried to turn her body, to urge Emma off of her, but her limbs were bound tight. Emma was too strong. There was no hope of getting a sound out, as the steel strengthened fingers of the vampire dug into Laura's skin, bruising around her nose and mouth. Laura's vision blurred as the edges of her sight melted into a fuzzy black. The room darkened and spun. Laura's stomach did flips and turns. She felt like the bed was tilting away from her, falling towards the far window and the only thing keeping her on was the straps and Emma. She felt herself falling, the world getting darker, herself getting lighter, everything slipping between her fingers, everything falling, as darkness took her.
Then a searing white ripped her from her grave. Laura's eyes shot open to the ceiling and the cruel and hard face of Emma. Her soft features had sharpened themselves into weapons. Laura screamed, her mouth free again, but Emma quickly clamped back down on it. The vampire leaned forward, shifting her weight from Laura's lap to her stomach, her chest, making it impossible to breathe. Laura felt the blood coming out of her neck, the thick lines darting down her shoulder and back. She tried to say something, anything, to get Emma to stop and let her go, to give her life, but she couldn't speak. She tried pleading with her eyes, showing her own desperation and fear, but Emma stared down with contempt, her mouth and chin glistening with new blood.
"Is this what you want?" she hissed.
Laura shook her head as best she could.
"Oh really?"
Emma leaned back and groped Laura's pussy. The shameless aggression was almost painful to Laura as her former lover treated her like a piece of meat. Emma sat back up and raised her hand, it was wet.
"Looks like you love it." Emma leaned down. Laura winced, thinking she would bite the other side of her neck, but the vampire whispered in her ear, "Looks like you get off on it."
Emma pulled back her hand off of Laura's mouth. When Laura tried to speak, she shoved her wet hand into Laura's mouth and began to pump in and out, fucking Laura with her own perverted juices.
"Don't talk," said Emma. "That's the problem, everyone lets you talk too much." Emma smiled cruelly. "But meat doesn't talk, does it? Meat is for eating." Emma paused as a new thought came to her. "Or, if meat is very very lucky, meat is for fucking."
Emma leaned back in and whispered into Laura's ear. "I'm going to free your mouth. If you scream, I promise I will kill you. I'll tell Camille what you've done, and she'll help me kill everyone that's ever heard of you. Is that clear?"
Laura nodded. The tingling in her hands and feet had spread to her forearms and calves, but a new coldness was in the depths of her stomach. It was the realization that this may be her last night on earth, that Emma may be true to her word. She may have the strength and presence of mind after drinking Laura to do exactly as she promised. Laura felt the pain of no longer flirting with death, but burning through it.
I'm dying, she thought to herself. This is dying.
Emma pulled her hand out of Laura's mouth and slid down Laura's body. She put herself between Laura's spread legs and hovered in front of her pussy.
"I wonder what it would be like to die and cum at the same time," mused the vampire. "To be so alive and so dead all at once. You'd like to know that, wouldn't you?"
Laura did nothing. A month ago, she would have said yes. She would have begged Emma or Marcilla for a beautiful and erotic death. She didn't know why she was wet. She didn't know what twisted pleasure she was feeling in this moment. All she knew was the fear and the creeping cold taking over her skin.
"Maybe it's not the pain," said Emma. "Maybe it's the control." She looked up and smiled at Laura. "Do you need a strong woman telling you what to do?"
Laura looked down at the beautiful silver-haired woman between her legs. Did she want her? Absolutely. But her eyes couldn't escape the glistening red on Emma's lips and chin. Did she want that? A monster?
"You like me like this, don't you."
Laura hesitated, but slowly nodded. She liked that she didn't have to babysit Emma or translate her words. She liked that if she directed Emma's attention and focus, she could have a partner, someone strong and clever and cruel to help her take down Camille. She could have someone equal to her in this house full of pretenders and puppets. Did she like Emma like this? Absolutely.
Emma began to casually tease the outside of Laura's pussy with her fingers, absentmindedly gliding her fingertips over Laura's wet lips. "I thought so," she whispered. "Would you have me kill every night so I could be this way for you?"
Laura nodded.
"I can't keep sneaking out and hunting. Camille would notice. Perhaps I'll start within the house." Emma slipped her fingers into Laura's pussy. Laura moaned. She was losing feeling in her legs and arms as blood oozed out of her neck, but she could still feel the heat and pleasure from her pussy. "Any suggestions?" she asked, and giggled.
Laura moaned for an answer.
"We could start with the obvious ones," she said while she began to slide her fingers in and out, gently increasing pace and strength as she pumped Laura's pussy. "Jacques could go without a problem. Miss Lancaster would be delicious. Your tools and enemies would disappear."
Laura pumped her hips against Emma's fingers, grinding and moaning.
The stabbing pain of a sharp slap on her thigh brought Laura's attention back to Emma. "Not so loud," said Emma. "Unless you want your father to disappear after you."
Laura nodded and bit her lip to silence herself.
Emma continued pumping, letting her free hand drag nails over the sensitive and red spot she just slapped. "I want you to pick," she said. "Who dies next: Claire, Abby, or Nikki?"
Laura didn't answer. She kept grinding her hips, biting her lips until she tasted blood. Then, the sensation disappeared altogether. She looked down at Emma. Her hands were in the air, by her side, as though she was surrendering. "Answer the question. If you want me like this all the time, a life for this, tell me who dies next."
"Abby," said Laura without hesitation.
Emma laughed and went back to fucking Laura. She moved her thumb up to Laura's clit and drew small circles over it while pumping two fingers in and out of Laura's pussy. "After that?"
"Claire."
"No hesitation? Really?" said Emma. "I thought she was your best friend."
Laura said nothing. She could barely reason anymore. She answered the questions without thought, following her instinct. She was a muttering, moaning, and melting mess. All she wanted was for Emma to go faster, to go harder, to make her cum.
"She doesn't matter," said Laura.
"Jesus." Emma laughed. She climbed back up Laura's body, doing her best to keep her hands still pressuring and teasing Laura's clit. "I can't tell which monster is worse: you or Camille."
"Me," moaned Laura.
"Maybe you're right." Emma licked the blood from Laura's lips. "Or maybe you won't have the stomach for it when the time comes."
Emma lowered herself down the bed. She placed herself between Laura's legs again, this time putting her face right in front of Laura's pussy as she kept teasing her clit. "Maybe I should end you right now," she said. "Before you can do any more damage."
"Please," whispered Laura, but she didn't know what she was begging for.
"You have no idea," said Emma. Her voice was serious, the mocking playfulness gone from it. "What you ask of me."
There was a long silence. Laura felt the room flipping over and over, her body losing all centering points, all ability to anchor itself. Everything was blurry, including the vampire between her legs. She closed her eyes, trying to still her spinning vision, trying to hold onto the feeling as the cold crept along her body.
"Let me show you," said Emma finally. Her voice was ice and steel, empty and passionless. "What Angelica felt in her last moments."
Laura felt the familiar sharp pain of Emma's fangs as they pierced above her pussy. The cold pain and spinning blackness raged as Emma drank. Quickly, to counter that, was the warm flood of Emma's tongue as it slid over Laura's clit.
Laura moaned and arched her hips, sharpening the pain of Emma's fangs. She tried to grab the vampire's head and press deeper, but her hands were still bound.
"Oh fuck," she hissed.
The vampire quickly followed Laura's lead, biting harder and licking faster. Laura lost track of what was pleasure and what was pain.
"Please," moaned Laura.
She lost track of what was fear and what was lust.
"Please."
She lost track of cold and heat.
"Please."
She lost track of blood and warm pussy juices.
"Please," she begged.
She lost it all, eagerly humping the vampire as she expired.
"Please."
As her vision went to black, as she was sure it would be the last moment of her life, she felt no peace. She felt no pleasure. There was only fear and panic. There was only the creeping darkness when she opened her eyes and the thousand regrets when she closed them. She felt no satisfaction as Emma's tongue pressed against her clit, as her fangs sunk into her flesh, as her life fled her body into someone more powerful, someone that will live forever.
"Please," whimpered Laura.
Laura's last thought was that in a way, she would live forever now in Emma.
Laura awoke in a new bed. She tried to sit up, to look around the room, but the sudden motion made her head swim and her body scream in protest. She fell back into the bed, one that was distinctly firmer than her own.
Next to her, a woman stirred. She looked next to her as best she could without moving her neck. There, Emma was curled in a ball, cuddled against her like a cat. She was clothed, no longer covered in blood. Laura looked at the other side of the bed and saw an IV standing next to her. In a chair, next to the bed, was Claire.
"What -" Laura's throat hurt too much to talk. Her lips were chapped and speaking felt like swallowing razor blades.
Claire smiled sympathetically and offered Laura a cup with a straw. Laura drank greedily, and the cool water soothed some of the burning in her throat.
"Careful now," said Claire. "Slowly."
"What happened?" asked Laura, the pain barely worth the question.
Claire nodded to Emma. "She came to me, holding your limp body, saying we needed to get you blood. She was panicking. She didn't say what exactly happened, but I can guess from the marks on your body. She was acting strange. Like, she made more sense than usual, but she was still scared out of her mind. Well, we got you here and had to do a whole adventure with figuring out your blood type and then she broke into a hospital to steal blood for you. It was all quite dramatic, but the short of it is that you're in my room. You're going to be okay. We told Camille that you were very sick, but not with what. She's more focused on Angelica's disappearance than anything. You're going to be fine. Angelica is gone. Onward with the plan." Claire pumped her fist to make a charging motion as she finished the sentence.
"Cute," croaked Laura, but the pain was certainly not worth the comment. She winced in pain, and Claire frowned.
"None of us are doctors, and Camille isn't letting anyone in. We also figured we couldn't explain everything to a doctor, what with the bruises around your neck, ankles, wrists, and vagina." The sympathetic smile faded from Claire's face. "You look like you were raped."
Laura wanted to say that she was, but she stopped herself. She didn't want to make her throat any worse, and it wouldn't be the entire truth anyways. She'd begged Emma for it. She'd wanted it for months. She couldn't entirely say it was unwelcome or unpleasurable. But she could say she'd never want it to happen again. She looked down at the vampire curled against her. She looked so peaceful now. The childlike innocence was back. She smiled in her sleep. How could something so deadly look so harmless?
"She hasn't left your side," said Claire. "Not since we brought you here three days ago. Sometimes I force her to wander the halls upstairs, to let Miss Lancaster and Camille know she's still about, but other than that, she's here."
Laura attempted to nod, but it hurt too much.
"You need sleep. We're taking care of things. Abby is covering for you with Camille. We've got this. Sleep."
Laura smiled at her friend. She didn't forget what she told Emma when she was trapped in the bed, and though she meant it at the time, she felt a stab of regret considering all that Claire and Abby had done for her in the past three days.
Claire smiled back, stood up, and let Laura sleep.
Over the next week, Laura spent most of her time asleep. If she wasn't asleep, she was still trapped in bed. She needed help going to the bathroom, taking a shower. Her body was bruised everywhere. Abby mentioned something about potential brain damage or nerve damage from the bloodloss, but they would wait a few weeks to see a doctor. They needed the swelling and bruising to fade. They may not be able to explain the scars from Emma's bites, but Laura planned to laugh it off as a strange kink. That was mostly true.
Emma stayed in the room with Laura as much as she could. She apologized all the time, clinging to Laura's side like a puppy. This version of Emma seem disgusted with herself, and Laura doubted she could get her friend to drink from her again.
Then again, Laura doubted she wanted anyone to drink her blood again. She had a lot of time to think while she was trapped in bed. Think and plan. The first thing she realized is that she'd been an idiot. She didn't want to die. She didn't want Emma or Marcilla or anyone to drain her blood in some erotic death scene. She wanted life. She had plans for life. That's what Laura had now that she didn't have when she first read Marcilla's poetry. She had plans. She had people circling her, depending on her, serving her. Her life was too valuable to throw away now, and she had no intention of putting herself in that position with Emma again.
Additionally, she realized how foolish she was to underestimate vampires. Emma was stronger than she had expected, but worse, and far crueler than Laura had expected. Emma hadn't even used any of her powers. For all Laura knew, Emma could have commanded Laura to kill herself. She could have made Laura a smiling and moaning idiot as she bled to death in Emma's mouth. If she wanted to defeat Marcilla, she needed something more than tapping into her insecurities. She needed a weapon or an advantage. She needed to know Marcilla's weaknesses, her physical vulnerabilities. Otherwise, she stood no chance.
She began having long, roundabout conversations with Emma. She needed to ask Emma "what makes vampires weak" without asking that head on. Instead, she asked things like "how could I have fought you off?" or "how can we make sure you can't do that again?" Emma gave confusing answers, the riddles and half-truths and metaphors of a wounded mind. They boiled down to the obvious: don't let her drink that much again.
One night, when Laura was feeling stronger and sitting up in bed, Emma curled up against her, she decided she needed answers. Marcilla had already replaced Angelica. If they waited too long, the house would be out of their control again. They needed answers, and Laura was too afraid to make any moves without some degree of protection.
"Emma," she whispered while stroking the silver-haired girls arms. "I've been worried about something."
"Too many clouds in your sky," whispered Emma. Laura could hear her smile. She had become increasingly attached to Laura, almost like her child. Needless to say all eroticism between them had died.
"Not enough in yours," said Laura.
"Then it's a beautiful day."
"Perhaps." Laura paused, trying to strategically proceed. "When you attacked me," she started. She paused to let the words rattle Emma. The vampire tensed up, almost pulling away from Laura. She pulled Emma in close. "It's okay, I understand what I did wrong. It's not your fault." Emma relaxed a little.
"But when you attacked me, it made me realise that if Camille did the same thing, I'd have no chance against her. Do you agree?"
"Her strength does not obey the tide. It is the moon."
"Right, and that's my problem. If I can't confront her at the end of all of this, all our work, all our sacrifices," she squeezed Emma towards her, "all your sacrifices, will have been for nothing. I need an edge."
"Mother will be a sword and a shield. She will -"
"Yes, but what if she turns on me as you did? What if in the final moment the bloodlust is too much? I need a way to defend myself from vampires. Do they have a weakness or -"
"Silver lies."
"Garlic? Holy water? Anything?"
Emma laughed at her. It wasn't the condescending laugh of her bedroom. It was the light-hearted and amused laugh of a small child.
"A vampire only fears their hunger when on the hunt. It pushes them and pulls them, both towards hope and despair."
"But there has to be something. Maybe you're allergic to something? Something to do with blood? A coagulant? Something?"
Emma sat up suddenly in the bed. She looked scared and excited all at once. "Do you have a bottle for this secret?"
Laura looked around the room for a bottle of something she could dump out, anything that could amuse Emma enough to get the information out of her. Laura tried to rise, but winced from the pain. Emma stood up instead, looking for something. Finally, she returned with an empty water bottle. She stood by Laura and whispered into it: "Vervain."
Nikki
Nikki had long stopped expecting to feel anything from her hands or wrists. Occasionally, Angelica or Miss Lancaster would come and lower her arms, letting the blood return. They would give her some drug, which they insisted would help prevent clotting or nerve damage but Nikki found it made her sleepy. Whatever it was, by the time it did its job, her arms were suspended back above her head, pinned to the wall behind her, and numb.
No one had come for days. Her water and food were gone. Her arms were entirely numb. She needed to move, to stretch, to clean herself. She had hoped that when they killed her - they were certainly going to kill her - that they would come in and make it quick. Apparently, they had decided to starve her to death. It may have been a cruelty, but what was one cruelty heaped upon an abundance of cruelties?
Nikki had long given up hope. She held onto it for a while, for the fleeting moment that Laura came into the dungeon and kissed her. She was foolish enough to believe she was about to be rescued, that the nightmare was over. But that was a different Nikki. That was one that thought about tomorrow, about the next minute, about what would come after the dungeon. That was a girl capable of imagination and fancy.
There was only the eternal present now. In that place, that hell, she was a prisoner. She was food for some vampire motherfuckers. There was nothing coming after this. There was no one behind that door. There was no one worried about her or missing her. There was only this moment and, in this moment, she needed a shower and some soup and a cup of water. Those were her deepest desires: food and survival. She was an animal, no better than a cow fattened for a hamburger.
Nikki smirked. She'd never thought she'd grow up to be a hamburger.
The door of the dungeon clicked. Nikki looked up. It was probably Angelica, come to finally kill her. Or perhaps she'd brag again about how foolish Nikki was to snoop around the house, to ask so many questions.
Laura stepped into the dungeon. She looked like hell. She may be the only person in the world that looked worse than Nikki. She was on crutches. Her neck was purple and black and swollen. It looked like she was wearing a neckbrace, but it was just the bloated skin. From one spot, there were two puncture wounds. Spiraling from that wound was a network of black lines. It looked like a black spider web made of veins beneath the surface. They crawled up Laura's neck to her ear and under her hair. They sprawled under her clothing and beyond Nikki's vision. Her wrists were bruised and purple as well. She was covered in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, but the way she winced made Nikki think there were bruises elsewhere.
Laura stopped when she saw Nikki. She dropped one crutch, but quickly swooped down and caught it before it clattered onto the floor. She mouthed the words, "Oh my god," but no sound came out.
Nikki tried to say the words, "You too," with a smirk, but dust and coughs came up instead. When she stopped, she mouthed the words carefully, exaggerating her lips.
Laura looked at her, holding her gaze, as tears swam in her eyes. The two women beheld each other, too weak to speak, unable to think of any words to say even if they could. Laura looked terrible, and something about her face had changed. Something in the way she looked at Nikki made Nikki forget, for just a moment, that she was hanging meat to be consumed. In that moment, while Laura's eyes roamed over the trauma over her body, she felt like a person. A person that didn't deserve to be treated like this.
Laura looked down at Nikki's missing food and water. "I'll be right back," she mouthed, and clanked out of the dungeon on her crutches. When she returned, she had a water bottle and bread. Slowly, delicately, she gave Nikki the water. Then, she ripped off a tiny piece of bread, and slipped it between Nikki's lips. Nikki sucked on the bread, then took another sip of water to help her swallow it.
"I'm so sorry," mouthed Laura.
"I know."
"I'm going to get you out."
"You can't."
Laura reached into her pocket. "Not yet," she whispered and raised up a slender purple plant. "But I will." Her voice was soft like paper, and raspy. She tore up the herb and put it a small piece of it onto the bread. She slid it between Nikki's lips, and the formerly curvy redhead swallowed it.
"What is it?" mouthed Nikki.
"It poisons them," mouthed Laura. She pointed to the spots on Nikki's wrists where they drained her. Nikki understood immediately.
"Where can you keep it?" asked Laura wordlessly.
Nikki opened her mouth wide. Laura hesitated, then slipped the herb into her friend's mouth. She dumped most of the water into Nikki's bowl, and stood there, slowly feeding Nikki bread and more sips of water. With each bite, Nikki made sure to tear off a piece of the herb and swallow it.
If Nikki had the ability, she would have cried. She had too many questions for Laura. What was she doing there? Why didn't she run? Why did she leave her here? Why couldn't they run away together? She didn't know what Laura was up to, but what she did know was that she wasn't abandoned. The story wasn't over. There was something to think about for tomorrow.
When Laura finished, she stood there, staring at her former lover, her first real lover, and her only true friend in this house. There was a sadness and a celebration between them. There were no words, only faces of condolence, of pretend strength, of regret, and of apology. Finally, Laura leaned forward and kissed her chapped lips against Nikki's chapped lips. It was gentle and harmless, but it filled Nikki with strength, imbuing her with hope.
When she pulled away, Laura smiled, and Nikki smiled back. "I'm going to bring you more," she whispered. "I'm going to get you out of here."
Nikki smiled. "I love you," she mouthed, and in that moment, she had never meant anything more than that in her whole life. It was the simplest and truest thing. She didn't understand Laura. She wasn't sure she trusted Laura. But in that moment, she loved Laura.
"I love you too," whispered Laura. "And I'm sorry I have to leave you here."
"Why?" mouthed Nikki. "Take me with you."
Laura held up the stem of the herb. "I need you to eat as much of this as you can first."
"Why?"
The smile fell from Laura's face. "Because I'm going to kill them," she said. "And I need your help."
She didn't slink behind the door and into the night. She didn't abandon Nikki again, leaving her to wonder if she would ever see another kind face again. Instead, Laura held Nikki's gaze, waiting for permission to leave.
Nikki nodded, and Laura nodded back. Then, as quietly as she could with the crutches, Laura disappeared behind the dungeon doors once more.
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