//Author Note: I would strongly urge you to read Rotten Æther | Scribble Hub alongside this story//

 

“Do you need more blood,” the slave girl asks, boldly meeting my eyes. I shake my head, though her offer does comfort me. The act of offering blood is something sacred to my new self, my very instincts demand that I respect her.

The slave children play with sad little toys, rocks and sticks of odd shapes mostly, but the kids wear infectious smiles and make a small, but cheerful ruckus.

Was I ever like that?

Piper turns to her younger siblings, her family, and breaks up a fight that’s stirring. Even in this flimsy shelter, wearing filthy rags, they know how to smile.

“I’ll be eating out this evening,” I say, turning from the sight. This atmosphere is so cheerful, so happy, that it’s offensive to my vampiric nature, so much so that I’ve become wholly cut from my new powers. “I may... I’m taking on a challenge that I’m likely unready for. If I do not return you may wish to escape, though... if that was an option before now...”

“We can’t escape,” she says. “If you truly wish to do some kindness for us, then you will need to return.”

“I will try, and should I succeed, I’ll be much stronger. Perhaps even strong enough to…” I can’t finish the sentence. It is my responsibility to give them a kinder life, and I will not fail them. They are some of the few people supporting me now, even if the only reason is because of their own weakness.

The children are the ones to see me off, their innocence keeping them from understanding the situation, an understanding that would turn to grudges in time. Their cheerful farewells seem a solid effort to melt my frozen heart, but it’s not enough to war against the æther that chills me through.

It is the unspoken curses of their elders that I find most appropriate.

I am a monster, and it is right that I am hated.

Turning and leaving the den, which the slaves have worked hard to make into a home, I find Therina waiting for me attentively outside. She bows and follows me as I lead us toward my home.

The sky is still warm with the lingering grace of the sun, but while my power is not at its greatest, the red streaks in the sky only parch my skin, the same as the noonday sun had when I was still human. It is time to prepare myself.

With Therina’s assistance, I dress as properly as I may, for tonight is not a night for the huntress alone, but for my noble self as well.

She isn’t practised in this nature of care, her hand is unsure with a brush, not quite forceful enough, and her attempts to dress me are clearly that of an amateur, but her spirit and professionalism, even in her less than perfect performance, leaves her at an obvious advantage over the others that surround me.

She walks at my back as I leave my room, the blood finally cleaned, and the sheets changed. While I have no more need for a bed, it is a basic thing neglected for too long.

The maids and guards we pass pause, unwilling to stand in my way just yet. The air is thick with fright, an ambience that echoes through the death-marked halls, born from the bloody effigies made from the corpse of the man I murdered. Many of these cruel talismans that I had to spare are now strewn through the estate grounds. The fear they inspire echoes in the stains that remain forever upon the walls of this house, and through the demented souls of those who have taken up residence here.

Terror feeds terror, and the longer this goes on, the more it’ll feed upon itself making a living nightmare from this haunted home.

“What do you think that you’re doing?” My uncle steps in my way, as we come upon the entrance hall. His brows are knit together in a tight display of stress, even he can feel the terror-drenched atmosphere.

“I’m heading out,” I answer him firmly, demanding his silence. “I have some business to attend to.”

“You think you can just walk yourself to a fancy ball and have a party?” He asks, clearly mistaking my intentions. “I’m the regent of this property. You will obey me, now go back to your room.”

He huffs and he puffs, his face bright red from the strain. I can hear a disgusting squelch come from his guts as he expels something from the hole in his belly, followed soon after by a terrible stench filling the air. I no longer have a gag reflex, but it’s incredible that I do not have it return to me from this alone.

I ignore the man and his odorous air as I walk around him to the doors. When he moves to intercept I level an æther fuelled glare at him, strengthened by the effigy hidden in a pot plant nearby, it has enough force to it that the man freezes in his step.

Without hesitation, I push through the doors, leaving the man behind. The guards don’t have the spirit to stop me tonight, frightened to an unusual degree. I suppose that word would have spread about that man’s disappearance.

I left no blood behind and used all of his flesh to make effigies. Perhaps, some have been found? What was made with his skull was certainly something difficult to hide after all is said and done.

 Henry waits for us outside the property, he wears an old suit, worn but clean, and in the dark it’s hard for others to see the fraying threads.

“We’re really doing this?” he asks, escorting me down the street. We have no carriage, for the same reason that I do not dare to ask for proper guards, the infestation of my house is simply too complete.

“We are not. You are here to escort me. The rest of this business is my responsibility, and it would be good for you to leave me at the door.”

“What if they overpower you?” Henry asks, Therina wearing a dark expression at the thought.

“Then my fate might as well be sealed,” I answer. “I have prepared as well as I might with what pieces I have. Delaying for uncertainty would only add to my deficiencies.”

“Be careful,” Therina says as the manor comes into sight.

“Now is not the time for a careful nature, now is the time to be bold, lest the moment be taken from me.” My words are nearly interrupted by the old man who stands before me, leaning heavily on his cane.

“And what have you planned that demands that you be bold?” Reeve Lewark asks, his eyes shining brilliantly in the night.

“Good evening to you too, sir,” I say meeting him with a curtsy. “I had intended to mention this, but I could not find you before opportunity came to act.

“I believe that the boy, the murderer who was left to walk, has turned his eyes to a closer prey. Come morning he will be found with a knife in his hand, laying upon the corpses of his dearest family.

“A terrible misfortune it will be, but such is the end for those who fail to allow justice its due course.”

“And the servants?” Lewark asks, “What of them?”

“Hiding through the incident, I’m sure,” I reply. “I’m quite certain that they’ll survive, they know the young master’s proclivities well enough to avoid him.”

“Are you sure of this?” He asks, a little quieter. “This will not go as well as you expect it to. You’re still a kid…”

“Perhaps it will end badly,” I admit. “But I know what happens if I do nothing. The killings go on, and I will be married to my cousin, kept locked in my own room like a kept pet.”

“I won’t stop you,” The reeve says with a long sigh, stepping out from our path. “If you become a monster…”

“I already am, Reeve Lewark,” I reply. “But my noble heart shall remain regardless, and my responsibilities shall not be ignored.”

He nods slowly, spitting on the side of the road, his scarred face twisted in thought. I haven’t a clue what this man might have experienced such that he’s letting me continue with this insane plan, but when he does step aside, leaning on his cane, there is a sad look in his downcast eyes.

Therina stays with the man, unable to show her face in this house for fear of recognition.

Henry walks to the gates with me, as the guards take in the sight of us with great suspicion.

“Open the gates,” I order them. “I am the current lady Greystone, and I am here to meet with Lord Andrick.”

The guards are caught clueless, struggling to find a reply, but one does head into the house seeking the Lord so I find no need to complain.

We have to wait only a few minutes with the remaining guard who fails to find any words that might be appropriate. The lord, father to the murderer, meets my gaze deeply unsettled by something.

“Do I not recall you from last evening?” He asks, “With the reeve?”

“That is so. I was embroiled in that mess by happenstance,” I say, explaining little as I can and moving the topic a more useful direction.

“I’m sure that you know of my recent family circumstances... I wish to escape my uncle’s machinations. He would have me make marriage oaths with my cousin, a boy of few years.”

“You come to our house for protection?” The lesser lord asks. “Then you will have it. I must apologise for delaying you at our gates, that was quite awful of me.”

He leads me into the house, as Henry stays behind. There is no need for him any longer, and to keep him would only add unnecessary risk.

“Your man?” The lord asks, looking back towards him.

“A man who was brother to a servant of mine. He’s one of only a few I could trust to bring me here,” I say in way of explanation.

“You needn’t worry about any of that anymore. I’ll see to it that you see no poor treatment, my son might like to play around at times, but he knows when to take people seriously.”

“I’m already asking favours of you, I wouldn’t be so ill-mannered as to make assumptions of you or your family,” I say entering the foyer. The essence of fear hangs heavy in the air, born from an effigy made from the flesh of my victim sitting in the soil not a few metres from the door.

Widening my attention I can sense the others nearby, tainting the atmosphere with vigorous terror. The servants around us echo the same emotion, building upon itself over and again until the air is slick with the oily taste of dread.

I restrain my bliss, walking into the dining room where the others are already seated, the meal just finished.

“Should I have the cooks warm up something?”

“No, I’ve already eaten, thank you,” I say acting as a proper and gentle lady while suppressing my hunger. The fear in the air only whets my appetite for blood, but I am not some overeager child demanding my meal be prepared early.

“Then let us make introductions,” he says, introducing me to his family with all the proper dignity of a nobleman, here he has a pair of sons, a daughter, and a wife. I take them in within a few moments.

The two sons are close, and already jeering one another with soft-spoken jokes at the expense of the other’s honour. Neither seems to much mind.

The daughter has sharp blue eyes, and lips as thin as a knife’s blade. She smells of soft soaps and lavender, accented with the sweet scent of blood. Her clear eyes watch mine with much the same cold scrutiny that I direct at her.

The mother, meanwhile, is a sow of great proportions. She does not have the dignity of a noble and has failed to keep her body within the margins of noble propriety. She seems, instead, like a rich merchant fat with the riches of success.

While she smells of cooked meats, she does not carry the taste of blood that the others here seem to. Perhaps she is not as heavily involved with the cruelties of her family?

We’ll see how the evening progresses, perhaps I’m wrong.

The formalities of introductions continue for a while longer and I reply by rote, as I investigate the house through my other senses.

The air is thick with blood and the foul stench of human waste, it carries the faint echoes of a desperate young man pleading for someone to fight, to not give in. The echoes come from the basement below us.

The servants are busy, not once letting down their guards, though they seem rather unmoved by all the strangeness of everything surrounding us.

My palette, already stoked, is now nigh unbearable to restrain.

This whole family is foul, but even so, I’m sure their blood will still be sweet at the end of the night.

With introductions done and remnants from their dinner taken away, we retreat to the parlour. A warm fire crackles in the fireplace, spreading warmth into the wide room, even if the heat can’t unravel the frost gripping my heart. Here, so close to the walls of the house where my cursed effigies have been placed, the air tastes of lingering dread. It hangs particularly heavy over the wide glass windows.

I tug at the shadows just outside and feel them respond to my call with an eagerness I’ve never felt before. I ready the darkness to act at my call. Slowly, gently, I must seed the fear into my prey.

“May I ask... have they found the killer?” The lord asks in a whisper, his eyes moving across the windows in suspicion.

“The monster? No, they haven’t found it yet, and I don’t think that they will.” My voice rings hollow in my own ears, the vibrations shaking my frosted heart. Fear among nobles is often a subtle thing. A blink, a glance to the corner of the room, or a slight shift in position.

“Monster?” the murderer boy asks, burning with interest.

“Oh, most certainly. It was not human,” I answer. “It closed us off from the world. The doors wouldn’t work anymore no matter how we pushed and pulled. The windows were covered in darkness, and entirely unbreakable.

“It preyed upon us, but like trapped mice in a bucket we turned against each other. We were made turn against each other. With one look, he could enrapture a mind. A brother kills a sister, a mother her son. We weren’t just killed, we were ruined.”

The crackling fire alone makes sound in this hollow room, but should I listen closely, I can hear pounding heartbeats. My lies settle in nicely, but I need something a little more.

“The windows...” the murderous son whispers, turning all eyes to the glass window, but there’s nothing there. I was able to move the shadows back into hiding before they could all see it.

“They were dark, like she described.” The boy tries to justify himself but his father quickly turns on him.

“Enough boy, I’ll not have you lying to my face!” The lord exudes a deep terror, but he fights it off with rage. It is a flimsy shield, cracking by the time he turns back towards me.

“Pardon my outburst,” he says bowing only slightly. “Perhaps it would be best to rest for the evening.”

“Perhaps...” I agree demurely.

“I’ll have a servant take you to our guest room,” He says, waving a maid nearer.

This young woman is at least well trained, and interestingly she’s far more resistant to my effigies than the nobles living here. She is fast on her feet and leads me away properly.

“Young woman,” I address the maid when we are far enough from the nobles, “I fear that tonight will be a rather dark night.”

“My lady?” she asks cautiously.

“Nothing, nothing,” I say. “Just, perhaps find somewhere to hide. I fear that the tragedy which took my family will strike once more this evening.”

Fear bubbles to the surface of her soul, even though her face remains frozen stiff.

She says nothing more as she leads me to my room.

 

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