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Silently Watching Under A Cold Snow Moon

The fine layer of dust that blanketed the study stirred as Meryn touched down lightly in front of the fireplace. With a flick of her fingers, a fire blazed brightly, adding immediate warmth to the cold chamber. Crossing to the window, she muttered to herself as she noted that it had been left open, resulting in a small perfectly formed snowdrift on the windowsill. With another flick of her fingers, the snow vanished as she closed the window.

Around her, she felt the air in a nearby suite of rooms shift and sensed the castle sigh. Trine, Jem and Luna had arrived safely.

Smoothing out her long voluminous skirt, Meryn prepared to go and join her family as they introduced Stefan to his granddaughter.

Surrounded by correspondence, Stefan sat at his desk poring over a lengthy document. He heard the study door open and without looking up and assuming that it was one of the staff, said, “Leave the tray by the fireplace, if you please.”

Before anyone could say anything, Luna squealed in her mother’s arms.

Stefan looked up and dropped the document he had been reading.

“Trine!” he gasped as he got to his feet. “And Luna! Oh and Jem of course, Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Where would the surprise be in that, Stefan?” asked Meryn as she entered the room. Spying the empty wine decanter, she added, “And not even a drop of wine to welcome us!”

Ignoring his old friend, Stefan walked straight to his daughter and granddaughter. He gazed down at the baby for a moment then wrapped them both in an embrace.

“Welcome home, my darling daughter.”

“It’s good to be here,” replied Trine, realising that she genuinely meant it.

“I didn’t expect you until spring or early summer,” said Stefan. “I thought it would be too risky tot ravel in winter with this little princess.”

Passing the baby girl to her father, Trine replied, “Meryn felt this was the best time to come. I’ve been desperate for you to meet Luna.”

“She has your eyes,” commented Stefan, smiling down at the baby who was staring intently at him. “She’s perfect.”

“She really is,” agreed Trone, smiling at the sight of her father cradling her daughter.

“And you’ve fully recovered from the birth?”

Trine nodded, “Thanks to Meryn and Jem.”

The arrival of a housemaid stilled their conversation while she set down a fresh decanter of wine and a light supper for them all.

“Do you need anything for Luna?” asked Stefan before the maid left.

“Some fresh deer blood to mix with her milk would be great,” replied Trine, accepting the baby back from her father.

“Of course,” acknowledged the maid. “I’ll have some brought up shortly.”

“If you could leave it in our rooms that would be great,” said Trine. “She’s not due to be fed for another couple of hours.”

“I’ll arrange that.”

Refilling her wine goblet at the end of their meal, Meryn asked, “And how has our friend Anna been?”

“A model prisoner by all accounts,” replied Stefan. “Michael brings me a weekly report on her and the other prisoners.”

“I’m surprised,” commented Meryn. “Perhaps you should be concerned, Stefan.”

“Or perhaps she has resigned herself to her fate, Meryn.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “I’d like to visit her tomorrow. I trust that can be arranged.”

“Why?” asked Stefan.

“I want to talk to her about the magic she used on my son and the blood types. Have Michael accompany me or come yourself if you don’t want me meeting her on my own.”

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

“Thank you,” said Meryn before draining her glass. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to my study. I have some correspondence to deal with.”

A soft voice whispered in Jem’s mind, “Meet me in my study in thirty minutes.”

With barely a glance at his mother, he got to his feet, “I’ll walk with you, mother. I’m going up onto the ramparts for some air. Gives Trine and Luna some time alone with Stefan.”

“Thanks, Jem,” said Trine, squeezing his hand. “I’ll see you back in our rooms.”

“Take your time.”

With his hands resting on the cold stone wall, Jem took a deep breath as he gazed out into the cold dark night. The skies were clear, and star filled. The moon, still a week away from being full, shone brightly. Shivering at the chill in the air, Jem decided that this moon was aptly named. The cold from the stonework was seeping into his hands but the pain was helping to distract him from the incredible thirst he was feeling.

Without confessing to his mother, he had continued to satiate his Rabbia Sanguigna with human blood at regular intervals. His last kill had been two days before. He’d taken a risk and killed a truck driver, before ensuring that both the dead driver and his truck crashed off the road into a ravine. The truck had fortuitously burst into flames on impact.

“So you’ve returned, Son of Perran.”

Anna’s voice rang clear in his mind.

Silently he reached out with his thoughts, “How did you know I was here?”

“I have my ways.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“I need your help, Son of Perran.”

Before he could reply, a second voice filtered into his consciousness, “You’re late, Jeremiah.”

Focusing on closing his mind to further intrusions, Jem walked along the ramparts towards his mother’s tower.

A fire was blazing in the hearth when he entered his mother’s study. There were two decanters and two goblets sitting on a table beside the fireplace.

“Pour yourself a glass from the decanter on the left,” instructed Meryn, who was scouring the bookcase in search of something.

Deciding against arguing that he didn’t want any wine, Jem poured himself a full goblet. One sip told him that it wasn’t wine or even blood infused wine. It was fresh human blood. In one thirsty chug, he drained the goblet then poured a second.

“Don’t think that I don’t know that you have continued your killing spree,” commented Meryn calmly.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I should have told you.”

“How many more?”

“Ten…maybe twelve,” he revealed. “I’m not sure I lost count.”

“This has to stop,” stated his mother as she lifted a small green leather-bound book from the shelf. “We just need to fathom out how.”

“Would talking to Anna help?”

“All in good time,” said Meryn, opening the book that she held in her hands. “Do you remember the breakdown of the blood families that I gave in court?”

“Kind of,” he replied. “I’m families one and three and something else. You said your family were one and Anna was one and three.”

“Well remembered.”

“And the Rabbia Sanguigna relates to something in family three,” he concluded.

“Exactly,” stated Meryn. “How does that blood taste to you?”

“Ok. Not the best I’ve drunk.”

“It’s type B positive,” she revealed. “Now, try the other decanter.”

Too tired to argue with her, Jem did as he was asked.

“Hey, that’s pretty good,” he declared after his first mouthful from the second decanter.

“And that’s O negative. I’m prepared to wager all those souls you took were also O negative.”

“So, O negative calms the Rabbia Sanguigna caused by family three blood?” asked Jem pouring himself a second glass of the O negative blood.

“It does,” nodded Meryn. “If we can identify what in the family three blood triggers the blood rage then we can study the O negative to determine the calming ingredient….”

“And wipe out the blood rage?” he asked hopefully.

“Control it at the very least,” conceded Meryn. “I know that I’m searching for something that causes the same effect as the potion Anna made you drink. I’m hoping that there’s something in this book that might give me a clue.”

“What is it?”

“My mother’s grimoire,” Meryn revealed. “This may take me a few days.”

“So what do I do now?” asked Jem. “I can’t exactly hunt here to satiate this fucking thirst!”

“You order a decanted of O negative blood every second day,” instructed his mother. “No one will question the request. And you convince Trine to let me test Luna’s blood. I suspect she holds the key.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Flaming torches lit the narrow spiral staircase, their light barely illuminating the worn stone steps. Taking care not to stumble, Meryn followed Michael down into the depths of Level Zero. She had visited the castle’s underground prison many times over the years but something about this visit was making her blood run cold. Eventually Michael turned left into one of the passageways that intermittently led away from the stairwell.

“Anna’s along here,” explained Michael. “Last cell on the right.”

“Does she know we’re coming?”

“She was told to have her cell ready for inspection so she knows someone is coming,” he explained. “There’s a guard outside her door 24/7 so there’s always someone nearby just in case.”

“And her magic is still bound?”

“It is and she’s shackled to the floor,” he revealed. “The chain is long enough to allow her to move around her room.”

The heavy door creaked loudly in protest as the guard opened it just enough to allow Michael and Meryn to enter the cramped cell. Inside Anna was sitting on the edge of the narrow cot bed.

“Anna,” greeted Meryn politely.

“I wondered when you’d get around to visiting. I’d expected you before now,” commented the dark angel, her tone icy cold.

“I was attending to another matter,” replied Meryn.

“Ah, yes, the arrival of your granddaughter. Congratulations,” said Anna with a smile. “I trust the child is healthy.”

Without bothering to question how she knew about the baby, Meryn replied, “She’s perfect.”

“The start of your new pure blood family line.”

“Indeed,” mused Meryn. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Blood lines… and blood rage.”

“Oh dear, does the little princess have daddy’s blood rage?” mocked Anna with a sneer.

“She does not,” retorted Meryn sharply, praying that she was correct. “I’ll be more specific. I need to talk to you about the cure that you gave to my son for it.”

“Not a cure. It only stalled it for a few years. Stopped him biting his children.”

“True,” agreed Meryn. “I know the ingredients that you used. Jem showed me  the crystals you gave him for protection.”

“He still has them?” Anna asked, her eyes wide. “How sweet.”

“For some insane reason, that boy still cares for you,” muttered Meryn. “So, yes, he still carries them in his pocket.”

Anna smiled.

“Jem said that you recited an incantation and made him drink the initial potion at the full moon in the moonlight. What was the incantation?”

The dark angel laughed, “That, my dear Meryn, is a family secret.”

“From your mother or from Tristan?”

“That bastard told me nothing,” spat the dark angel angrily.

“Thank you,” said Meryn turning to leave. “That’s been most helpful.”

Without another word, she left the cell and set off back along the hallway.

Once back in her study, Meryn fetched the box of blood samples from the trial. Her notes were inside the box and although the samples were long since spoiled, she was keen to check if she had missed something in Anna’s blood. Her gut instinct was telling her the answer she needed was in the blood … hers and Anna’s.

After an hour of scouring her notes, she set them aside and went across to ger desk. Hastily, she wrote a note then rang the bell to summon one of the castle pages.

“Take this to Master Michael immediately,” she instructed the young boy who had answered her summons. “Wait and bring back his reply.”

While she was waiting, Meryn drew a fresh sample from her own arm, drawing three vials, sealing each of them carefully. The analysis she needed was going to require the use of the equipment in the infirmary. Carefully, she labelled each of the vials using a numerical code in lieu of a name.

Another hour passed before there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” she called out sharply, praying silently that it was the page returning.

“Your reply from Master Michael,” he said, handing her three vials of blood.

“Thank you,” replied Meryn, smiling with a mix of gratitude and relief. “Please wait while I prepare another message that I need you to deliver for me.”

“Of course, Mistress Meryn.”

While the page waited quietly by the door, Meryn labelled the three vials from Michael with a different numerical code then wrote a note to one of her trusted apprentices, Alicia, who was on duty in the infirmary. She requested a full profile of each sample, including the DNA analysis. Wrapping the six vials of blood and her note in a piece of cloth, Meryn instructed the boy to take it to the infirmary and to hand it to no one other than “Miss Alicia”. To reward him for his help, she slipped him two silver coins.

“Will I wait for a reply this time?” he asked, slipping the coins into his waistcoat pocket.

“Not this time.”

“Thank you, Mistress Meryn.”

Once alone again in her study, Meryn lifted the green leather-bound book, her mother’s grimoire, and settled down beside the fireplace to read.

A few hours later, the same page returned to Meryn’s chamber. This time he was bearing an invitation from Stefan requesting that she join him in his study for supper.

When she arrived, Meryn discovered that Trine and Jem had also been invited and were already seated round the table. Over on the rug, in front of the hearth, Luna lay playing with her toys.

“I didn’t realise it was a family gathering,” commented Meryn as she took her seat at the table. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Wine?” offered Stefan politely.

“Please,” she replied. “I hope there’s blood in it. I need to hunt later.”

“Always,” he replied, filling her crystal glass.

“Thank you.”

Before they could continue their conversation, two maids brought out several platters of cold meats, cheese and fruit and laid them on the table.

“I kept supper light as I suspected that you might all want to hunt after your journey yesterday,” explained Stefan.

“Very considerate,” commented Meryn reaching for a strawberry. “Now, why have you really invited us all here?”

“Straight to the point as usual,” laughed Stefan. “I thought we should discuss arrangements for Luna’s naming ceremony. The full moon is next week and it would be an ideal date to host it.”

“Father,” began Trine, glancing at Jem. “We haven’t agreed to have a formal naming day for her yet.”

“Nonsense,” snapped Stefan. “Of course, my granddaughter is having a traditional naming day ceremony.”

“Now, Stefan,” intervened Meryn calmly. “What if the children want to take a more modern approach to naming their daughter?”

“Modeen?”

“Father, we’d be happy to have a short ceremony then a feast afterwards,” suggested Trine by way of a compromise. “That would be easier to organise. There’s only a week until the full moon so its not a lot of time to organise the traditional event.”

“Who names her?” asked Jem. “I wasn’t aware she needed a naming ceremony.”

“It’s traditional,” explained Trine. “As a member of the senior vampire family it is also socially expected of us.”

“It’s a bit like a human christening,” added Meryn. “Only the traditional vampire celebrations last a week. Let’s see if we can complete this one in a day.”

“So, how does this work?” asked Jem.

“The oldest vampire names Luna in a ceremony then members of the noble families celebrate with a feast and a hunt,” explained Stefan. “I’ve already written to Lorenzo to invite him to attend.”

“But what’s involved in the actual ceremony?” persisted Jem, the thought of some ancient vampire ritual involving their baby daughter unsettling him.

“Jem,” began his mother softly. “It is a short ceremony. The senior vampire families from each country present traditional gifts and the eldest living vampire, Lorenzo, anoints her forehead with blood as he formally names her. Very similar to a human christening but without the holy water from a baptismal font.”

“Does she have to have the equivalent of godparents?”

Trine shook her head, “No.”

“And this will only take one day?”

“The guests will be present in the castle for a few days most likely but we can arrange things so that the naming celebrations only take one day,” replied Stefan. “To be honest, the weeklong affair is a little outdated.”

“A little!” laughed Meryn, “That format hasn’t changes since 1500’s, Stefan!”

“True,” he conceded. “Luna can have the honour of being the first 21st Century vampire baby named in a 21st Century ceremony.”

“We’d be honoured,” agreed Trine, smiling at her father. “Do you still have my naming day gown?”

Stefan nodded, “I’ll have it looked out, cleaned and delivered to your chambers. It might need altering.”

“Leave that to Trine and I,” said Meryn.

Three days before the full moon and the naming ceremony, the two vampiresses were sitting in Meryn’s study altering the naming day gown. Baby Luna was slightly older than Trine had been at her naming ceremony, so the heirloom gown was too tight in the bodice. Drawing on Meryn’s seamstress skills, two lace panels were being sewn into the sides using one of the layers of lace from the many layers of the skirts of the gown.

A knock at the door disturbed them.

“Enter,” called Meryn, setting her sewing aside.

She was surprised to see Alicia enter.

“Good afternoon,” said Alicia warmly. “Apologies for disturbing you both. Meryn. I have those results you were looking for.”

“Excellent. Thank you,” replied Meryn accepting the folder from her. “You didn’t need to trail all the way up here with them. One of the pages could have delivered them.”

“I know,” acknowledged Alicia. “I wanted to ask you about the findings. I think we need to do one more sample to validate something.”

“Will further analysis validate anything of importance?” asked Meryn. She knew instinctively what Alicia was about to ask so the question was more for Trine’s benefit than her own.

“I believe so,” replied Alicia. “Trine, we need your help with this too.”

“Mine?”

Alicia nodded, “We are on the brink of confirming a new vampire pure blood type and the start of a new family. The only way to fully validate it is to analyse a tiny sample of Luna’s blood.”

“Is that really necessary?” asked Trine, looking across the room to where her baby daughter lay asleep on the settee.

“Your father has ordered it,” revealed Alicia quietly. “I brought the necessary equipment with me. We could do it just now if you agree. It will only take a moment to draw the sample.”

“How did my father get involved in your science experiments?” demanded Trine bluntly.

“I discussed it with him over supper last night,” said Meryn. “He asked about my visit to Anna and why I had drawn more blood from her. I had no choice but to explain. He is keen to announce the findings at the naming ceremony.”

Recognising that she was backed into a corner, Trine let out a sigh. “Fine,” she said. “But, Meryn, I want you to draw Luna’s blood. Can you cast a spell to stop the needle from hurting her?”

“Of course. I’ll numb a tiny patch of her skin temporarily. She won’t feel a thing,” promised Meryn sincerely.

True to her word, Meryn drew the small sample with barely a whimper from Luna. She sealed the vial and passed it to Alicia with instructions not to let anyone see the results before bringing them to her.

“What have we done?” whispered Trine, cradling her daughter.

“Most likely created vampire history,” replied Meryn honestly. “The challenge will be in restraining your father’s delight that it has happened. We cannot allow this to turn into a circus.”

“At the first sign of that, we’ll leave and hide forever if we have to,” declared Trine firmly.

“And I’ll help you escape if I have to,” promised Meryn, reaching out to touch the younger woman’s hand. “Leave your father to me, my dear.”

Flurries of snow were in the air the night before the full moon as Jem walked along the ramparts. He was restless and his blood rage was simmering just below the surface despite having drained an entire carafe of human blood earlier. Preparations for Luna’s naming ceremony were almost complete. Throughout the day, various vampire dignitaries had been arriving, creating a buzz about the castle. The baby seemed to sense that something was going on and had been fractious all day. After a lot of persuasion, largely on Meryn’s part, Stefan had agreed to a more modern format for the ceremony, but he had insisted that it remain a formal occasion. Despite his protests, Stefan’s tailors had been summoned and Jem had been measured up for a new dark suit that now hung on the back of the bedroom door. Gazing out into the darkness, Jem wished that he was back home and able to go for a run and enjoy the freedom to hunt to feed his urges.

A voice in his head interrupted his thoughts.

“My study. Five minutes. No debate.”

Wearily, he turned and headed towards Meryn’s tower.

Less than five minutes later, he entered his mother’s study without bothering to knock. She was standing at the window, gazing out at the snow flurries.

“Mother,” he greeted plainly.

“Jeremiah,” she said, turning to face him. “Help yourself to some wine.”

“Am I going to need it?”

“Probably,” said his mother, indicating that they should sit by the fire. “I have all the blood results.”

“And?”

“Luna shares your unique pure blood type. You are now unofficially at least, the head of a new vampire bloodline. Congratulations,” she revealed. “Stefan will formalise that tomorrow at dinner.”

“And the Rabbia Sanguigna? Did you find a way to calm it?”

“I think so,” replied Meryn. “We’ll find out tomorrow night. I need the energy of the full moon to help deliver it.”

“What else did all that blood reveal?” asked Jem, sensing that his mother was holding

something back.

“That Anna is my cousin.”

“Your cousin?”

Meryn nodded, “With the help of my mother’s grimoire, I confirmed that my mother and Anna’s mother were twins. My mother’s book makes reference to a twin grimoire. We need to locate it. I have a feeling that it is important.”

“What would it look like?”

“Like this,” said his mother, holding up the small green leather-bound book. “Only it is likely to be blue or perhaps purple, but I suspect its blue.”

“I don’t remember seeing anything like that among Anna’s things.”

“I spoke to her this morning.  She claims never to have seen it.”

“And you think she’s lying?”

“I know she’s lying,” stated Meryn. “We don’t need to find it but I’d rather we had it than she did.”

“Can’t you do some sort of summoning spell?”

“The grimoire’s wards wouldn’t let it respond,” she replied. “Both grimoires will eventually belong to Luna along with Trine’s.”

“Trine has a grimoire?”

“Yes, son,” laughed his mother. “Now, back to your pressing issue. I want you to drink something for me tonight in preparation for tomorrow night.”

“What?”

“Just some human blood that I’ve infused with a few things. It’s similar to the potion Anna gave you all those years ago. It’ll calm things for now.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No,” said Meryn, getting to her feet to fetch a small chine cup from her desk. “Drink this.”

The warm blood tasted sweet and gritty to Jem as he drank it down.

“I’ve tasted worse,” he said, passing the empty cup back to his mother.

“I’m sure you have,” she said accepting the cup from him. “Stefan has assured me that the formalities will be over by eleven o’clock tomorrow night. At some point, after the naming ceremony, I need you to ensure that Trine passes Luna to me for a few minutes. I need to draw another blood sample. It’s the key to your cure.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he assured her. “I feel kind of guilty keeping all of this from Trine.”

“And how do you think she’d reach to the new of your killing spree?” challenged Meryn.

Jem sat in silence.

“Exactly, It’s better that she knows nothing of this.”

“I guess.”

Straightening his pale blue tie in the mirror, Jem was filled with dread at the thought of the day of pomp and ceremony that lay ahead. Behind him, Trine was dressing Luna in the lacey gown. The baby was fussing, clearly unhappy at being forced into the bulky dress with its long layers of lace skirts.

“Guess I’m not the only one who hates getting all fancied up,” commented Jem with a grin. “She looks ridiculous in that.”

“It is a bit much,” conceded Trine. “But we need to retain some of the traditions, or my father will be furious.”

“I get it,” said Jem, then seizing the opportunity, added, “We can always ask my mother to take Luna to get changed. Stefan wouldn’t dare challenge her over it.”

“I like that plan,” laughed Trine, “I’ll leave a more suitable outfit out just in case we can make that plan happen.”

A few moments later there was a knock at their door. One of the uniformed court officials entered. It was the first time that Jem had seen them in their dress uniforms since Anna’s trial.

“Master Stefan sent me,” said the official formally. “He’s waiting for you in the great hall.”

“We’re ready,” replied Trine, settling Luna in her arms.

The castle’s great hall was buzzing with conversation when Jem and Trine entered, carrying the guest of honour. As soon as he saw them, Stefan, looking every inch the perfect vampire in his tailored dark suit, stepped forward to welcome them. At one end of the room, on a small, raised dais sat three thrones. The seat to the left was vacant but in the one on the right, Meryn sat serenely in a midnight blue dress, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She smiled we she saw

them but remained seated. A small thin vampire sat in the centre throne, his eyes following them as Stefan ushered them forwards.

“Allow me to introduce you to Lorenzo,” said Stefan as they reached the dais. “Lorenzo, this is my daughter, Trine, her partner, Jeremiah, who is Meryn’s son, and their daughter.”

“Delighted to meet you,” replied Lorenzo, smiling at Luna who was frowning at him.

“The honour is ours,” said Jem formally, earning himself a small nod of approval from his mother.

Before they could continue their conversation, one of the castle officials struck his staff on the floor three times to call the room to order. As everyone’s attention was brought to the front of the room, Stefan took his seat on the vacant throne. Once he was seated, a robed official stepped forward holding a crystal bowl filled with blood. He stopped in front of Lorenzo and bowed deeply.

Slowly Lorenzo got to his feet and cleared his throat, “It’s been too long since we were all gathered here for a naming ceremony. I have had the honour of naming every newborn vampire for five hundred years, give or take a decade or two. This is I believe the first time I had been afforded the privilege  of naming a second generation newborn,”

He smiled at Trine, “I remember your naming ceremony vividly, Trine. Your father was so proud of you. I see that same pride in his eyes today as he invites me to name his granddaughter.” Lorenzo paused then turned to Meryn. “I remember the debate over Jeremiah’s naming ceremony, Meryn. Always so determined to protect him from our ways yet here we are.”

“Here we are indeed,” said Meryn quietly, shrugging off Lorenzo’s subtle rebuke.

“Jeremiah,” continued Lorenzo, still gazing at Meryn. “Your mother is a strong-willed woman. She did afford me the honour of naming you in a private ceremony which is just as well because if she hadn’t I would not have been free to name your daughter. Some traditions must be observed.”

Jem flashed his mother a look. She had failed to mention any naming ceremony to him.

“Who brings this newborn vampire before me to be blessed with their vampire name?” asked Lorenzo, his voice booming round the hall.

“Jermiah and I do,” responded Trine stepping forwards as they had rehearsed the day before with Stefan and Michael. Carefully she passed the baby to Lorenzo.

Cradling her in his arms, Lorenzo dipped his middle finger of his right hand into the blood.

“While any vampire hearts beat, you will be protected from all evil and danger. While any vampire hearts beat, you will be surrounded by family love and blood bonds.”

The baby gazed up at hm, her blue eyes focused on his bright red fingertip.

“In the presence of the senior vampires from each of the family lines, and in the presence of your grandparents, it is my honour to name you Luna Isabella Meryn, Bringer of a New Dawn.”

Gently he touched the bloodied ginger to Luna’s tiny rosebud lips. She opened her mouth and sucked his finger clean.

“Assembled vampires, do you swear to protect Luna Isabella Meryn for as long as there is a breath in your bodies?” asked Lorenzo, holding Luna up so that everyone could see her.

There was a loud chorus of “We promise to protect Luna Isabella Meryn for as long as there is breath in our bodies.”

“Any vampire present who fails to honour their promise will be subject to instant death,” stated Lorenzo as he lowered Luna and cradled her in his arms once more. “This child is the Bringer of a New Dawn for our kind.”

Passing Luna to Jem, he continued, “Do you, Jeremiah, promise to lay down your life to protect your daughter, Luna Isabella Meryn?”

“I do,” replied Jem, settling his daughter on his shoulder.

“The child has been named,” declared Lorenzo. “Let the gift giving ceremony commence.”

Another robed official stepped forwards to usher them to the far side of the hall where there two smaller less ornate thrones set out on another low dais with a long table beside it. As Jem and Trine took their seats, the assembled vampires lined up to present their gifts. Each beautifully wrapped gift was passed to a page and set aside on the table.

Once the last gift had been presented, the table was piled high. Still with Luna in his arms, Jem stood as he had been coached the before and said, “We thank you for your generosity and for welcoming Luna Isabella Meryn into your hearts, To show our gratitude, we would be honoured if you will now feast with us.”

Several hours later, as the wine servers hurried to refill everyone’s glass with Stefan’s best blood infused wine, he stood up from his seat at the head of the table and chinked his glass with a knife to attract everyone’s attention.

“A toast,” began Stefan, raising his glass. “To Luna, the Bringer of a New Dawn and to a new fifth pure blood vampire family beginning.”

“Cinque famiglia,” toasted the collected vampires.

“Cinque famiglia,” echoed Stefan with a nod to Jem and Trine.

Once the meal was over, Stefan had arranged some musical entertainment for the evening, creating a less formal atmosphere. Seizing the opportunity, Meryn offered to take Luna back to their chambers to change her into something more comfortable. As soon as she left the hall, Meryn sent a message telepathically to Jem, “Be in my study at midnight.”

By midnight the celebrations were still in full swing.  Scanning the room, Jem noted that his mother was absent, Over at a table near where the gifts were still piled high waiting to be opened, Trine was deep in conversation with Amelie and Manuela, who had formed part of The Thirteen during Anna’s trial. Setting his empty glass down on a nearby table, Jem slipped out of the hall, heading straight through the first door that led him up to the castle’s ramparts. He let out a long weary sigh as he stepped out into the cold night. Fresh snow blanketed the castle, but the skies had cleared and were now sparkling with a myriad of stars, Allowing himself a moment or two before meeting his mother, Jem gazed out at the bright full Snow Moon.

For a second, he thought he heard a voice in his mind whisper, “I’m sorry.” H

“Anna?” he thought instantly.

“Till we meet again, Son of Perran.”

“Anna?” he repeated but his thought was met with silence.

Shaking his head and brushing it off as his imagination, Jem continued along the ramparts towards his mother’s study.

“You’re late,” scolded Meryn as he entered her study.

“Sorry,” he apologised, “It wasn’t easy to slip away. The party’s still in full swing.”

“Never mind. You’re here now,” said Meryn. “I managed to get that blood sample from Luna after dinner.”

“How?”

“Babies need clean nappies,” she revealed with a smile. “I offered to take her to change out of her robe and to change her nappy. Trine will never know.”

Shaking his head, Jem said, “So, what do I need to do here?”

“Take off your jacket and your shirt,” instructed Meryn. “From what I can determine, the tattoo on your shoulders is part of this. I found the same design in my mother’s grimoire. I don’t have time to fully explain. I just hope I have this right. If I had her twin’s spell book I would have had the full answer.”

“You mean this could fail?” Jem asked as he slid his shirt off, taking care not to get dangled in his wings.

“It’s a slim possibility,” admitted his mother as she unrolled a length of midnight blue velvet. “Step over to the window and into the moonlight.”

Jem did as she asked.

“Keep your back in that beam of light,” instructed Meryn, lifting the first of six syringes from the velvet cloth. “You’ll feel six injections. They might sting a bit.”

“Just do what needs to be done, mother.”

“Put your hands on the back of the chair,” she suggested. “And try not to tense up your shoulders.”

“Just do it!”

White hot fire surged through his veins as Meryn injected the first vial. Gripping the wooden chair back, Jem sucked in a deep breath and tried not to flinch as she injected the second one. Again, he was almost brought to his knees by the searing white heat of the liquid. Working swiftly, Meryn injected the next three vials.

“I can’t take anymore,” he gasped.

“One more,” said Meryn. “Just one more.”

Before he could protest, she injected the last vial into the tattoo on his back. The previously black tattoo now had a new Celtic pattern through it… a thin green line through the swirls.

“Fuck!” roared Jem as the last of the liquid course through him. “Jesus Christ that fucking hurts!”

“I’m sorry, son,” apologised Meryn softly. “If it’s worked, which I think it has, then it will be worth it.”

Jem nodded as he draped himself over the back of the chair, his veins still pulsing.

As he reached for his shirt, the air was filled with shouting out in the stairwell.

“What on earth!” exclaimed Meryn sharply. “Get dressed. I don’t like the sound of this.”

Without bothering to lift his jacket or to tuck his shirt into his trousers, Jem followed his mother out into the stairwell. As they descended the narrow spiral staircase, they met Michael running up.

“What on earth is going on?” demanded Meryn bluntly.

“The Level Zero guards are all dead. The prisoners have escaped,” gasped Michael. “Anna’s gone.”

From the Measly Jar of Motivation- Free of Sorrow (flash fiction)

And the prompts were-

A LOUD noise! An explosion? The walls all falling in. Ceilings cascading downwards. Screams. Whimpers. Crying. Cold. Darkness …then silence. Trapped in a tiny space, she curled up and closed her eyes.

She lay there for what felt like an eternity. Her stomach growled with pangs of hunger. She was thirsty and longed for a cool drink.

She was scared. Alone and trapped and scared.

Just as she was losing all hope, she heard voices. Strangers’ voices, not the familiar voices of her family. Where were her family?

Suddenly, she was blinded by light as the piece of rubble above her was lifted away. Shaking with fear, she closed her eyes, whimpering quietly.

“It’s ok. I’ve got you,” said a man’s voice as he scooped her up into his arms.

She felt the stranger gently checking her over for injuries then he carried her away from the remains of the only home she’d known. He gave her a few drops of water from a bottle.

“What you got there?” another unfamiliar voice asked the man.

“The only survivor,” replied the stranger who carried her. “Pup. Can’t be more than four or five months.”

“What you going to do with it?”

Gazing down at the scared brown eyes staring up at him, he replied, “Clear it with the boss and take her home.”

She felt his warmth seep into her tiny thin body as he carried her away from the bomb site. A few moments later, he shifted his hold on her then he was placing her inside something. He took off his jacket, laid it out then sat her down in the middle of it. Already his scent was becoming familiar and felt reassuring to her senses.

“Wait there. I’ll be back soon, princess,” he promised as he closed the car door. “Need to speak to the boss before we head home.”

She must have dozed off as the vibration of the car and its motion wakened her. Looking up, she could see her rescuer in the seat next to her.

“One stop to make then we’ll get you home, princess,” he explained softly. “Need to pick up a few supplies for you at the pet store.”

Home…that suddenly sounded good.

Home was a fourth-floor apartment overlooking the river. When he carried her into the apartment, he took her straight into the kitchen and fetched her a bowl of water. She began to lap at the cold water thirstily.

“Slowly, girl,” he cautioned, stroking her head. “You don’t want to make yourself sick now, do you?”

She paused to stare up at him then watched as he scooped some dog food into a shallow dish before setting it down in front of her. It had been such a long time since she’d eaten…

The bowl was licked clean in seconds.

“Bath time.”

She stared at him with her big brown eyes but allowed herself to be scooped up again into his arms. He carried her down the hallway to the bathroom and placed her into the bathtub. Carefully, he washed all the dust and dirt from her soft brown and white coat. Satisfied that she was clean, he drained the murky water from the bath, letting her shake herself dry before he wrapped her in a warm fluffy towel.

Once she was dry, he took her back through to the kitchen then let her explore the long narrow room while he cooked his own evening meal. Just as she had done in her old home, she sat at his feet while he ate, hoping for a titbit or two. Her ploy worked.

Hours later, as she lay curled beside him on the couch, a new red collar round her neck, she realised that she wasn’t scared any more. She was free of sorrow.

Her ordeal was over. She had a new master now instead of her mistress. He seemed gentler than the little girl who had been her previous owner. He hadn’t pulled her ears or tail once.

As he dozed off on the couch, worn out from several long days of digging through the rubble day and night, she snuggled in beside him. Now felt like a time for being safe. A time to get settled into her new forever home.

Silently Watching At The Full Worm Moon…a trip to chapel

With a loud grating noise, the ornate panel slowly slid down. Behind it, there was a narrow flight of stone steps that disappeared down in the darkness.

The air coming out from the opening was stale and musty, with no indication of movement. Was this an escape route or another trap?

Reaching for a fresh torch, Anna lit it from the sconce to her right. As it flared into life, she lifted a spare unlit torch then started slowly down the steep steps.

The staircase was narrow and some of the steps crumbled as she put weight on them. Eventually, she reached the bottom and found herself standing on a dry dirt floor. In the flickering torchlight, she could see that the passageway was timber lined and stretched further than the light reached.

With nothing to lose, the dark angel started walking.

Dusk had just settled over the area when Jem and Trine landed lightly on the beach in front of the hut, closely followed by the four members of the Court of the Elders. Gazing round at the view, Michael was the first to speak, “I can see why you’d want to live here, Jeremiah.”

Flinching at the use of his full name, the runner just smiled and gave a small nod.

“Let’s go indoors,” suggested Trine, wondering if they would all manage to squeeze into the small beach hut’s living room.

“Later,” said Stefan. “There’s no time to waste. Jem, can you lead us to the chapel you mentioned. Let’s start there. If there’s a matching carving, then we’ll have some proof to show we’re on the right track here.”

“Of course. It’s not far from here. About a mile or so to the west,” replied Jem, drawing his wings around him to ward off the chilly night air.

“And you’re sure we’ll not be seen?” quizzed Alessandro, looking around nervously.

“As sure as I can be.”

“Lead the way, son,” prompted Meryn, as anxious as Stefan to confirm whether or not there was a matching carving among the remains of the chapel.

Within a few minutes the six vampires were standing in the ruins of the private chapel, gazing round at the crumbling walls. There was no sign of a panel to match the one Jem recalled from the dark angel’s tomb. Such was the state of decay none of the walls that were left standing were substantial enough to incorporate it.

“What if it wasn’t on the wall,” began Meryn staring down at the overgrown chapel floor. “I can sense a stone floor here, running towards  where the altar would have been.”

“I’ve not heard of the matching pattern being on the floor,” said Alessandro. “But it’s possible.”

“Step to the sides,” instructed Meryn firmly. Keeping her voice low, she recited a simple clearing incantation that sent the undergrowth that had spread across the floor of the chapel scurrying back into the ground.

The spell revealed the remains of the chapel floor. In the dim light, it looked as though the centre aisle had been a chequerboard design. Half the squares were plain; half the squares were carved.

“They look like miniatures of the panel we’re looking for,” commented Jem as he bent to inspect the one closest to him.

“A promising sign,” agreed Alessandro. “But they are too small. Where’s the larger one?”

“It’s here,” said Trine calmly from near the front of the chapel.

The six vampires gathered round the large circular panel in the floor. It was sited behind what would have most likely been the altar. The panel itself looked to be undamaged but there was no obvious sign of the trigger to open it.

All of them stood staring down at it.

Suddenly, there was a low rumbling, grating noise and the panel began to sink down into the ground. It only sank down about ten feet, revealing a well like hole with a ladder secured into its stone wall.

The six vampires stood back a little and watched in silence to see who or what was about to emerge from the inky darkness.

With cobwebs tangled in her hair and wings, Anna began to climb the ladder, taking care to test each rung before putting her weight down on it. Slowly, she made her way to the surface, grateful to breathe in the fresh cold night air. As she stepped out onto solid ground, she let out a sigh.

“Good evening, Anna.”

“Stefan!”

Before she could move, Anna felt the thick chains of strong magic shackle her to someone. Turning to look into the shadows, she found herself face to face with Meryn, her runner and the ice maiden plus the three remaining court elders.

The dark angel let out a blood curdling scream.

Silently Watching With Help From The Long Night’s Moon…the realisation

Cradling Meryn in his arms, Jem touched down lightly in the small courtyard beside the beach hut shortly before dawn. Hearing his arrival, Trine threw open the door, swathing the area in light.

“Meryn!” she gasped as she saw him standing there with the exhausted vampiress in his arms.

“She collapsed,” explained Jem as he stepped unsteadily inside.

“Lay her down before you fall down,” said Trine, rushing to open her bedroom door. “You look as though you’ll collapse too!”

With his mother settled on the bed, Jem fell to his knees on the floor, his own exhaustion overwhelming him now that he knew she was safe.

Quickly, Trine fetched him a glass of blood infused wine, discreetly whispering a strengthening spell over it. He drained it in one long thirsty mouthful.

“Is Meryn hurt?” asked Trine, kneeling beside the unconscious vampiress and taking her hand in hers.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, feeling the warmth of the wine coursing through his parched veins. “She’s just knackered. We worked for hours without a break.”

“Doing what?”

“Sealing Anna into her illusion,” he revealed.

“Sealing her in?”

He nodded, “Meryn has created a shell over the illusion that Anna placed around her tomb. It was safer than trying to touch her dark magic creation. It took both of us all our strength to seal it.”

“And when did you learn magic?” quizzed Trine, raising one pale eyebrow as she stared at him.

“My mother taught me a couple of bits and pieces when we were all stuck at the castle. Basic stuff,” he replied, hoping she didn’t see through his white lie. “She’d been chanting for over an hour before she asked for my help. Was easy enough to copy what she was saying.”

Looking doubtful, Trine turned her attention back to Meryn.

“I’ll sit with her,” she said softly, gently stroking the vampiress’ hand. “You go and get some rest.”

Dragging himself to his feet, Jem nodded, “Waken me if she wakes up.”

“I will. Promise. Now, go. Sleep!”

Screaming obscenities into the still night air, the dark angel stood staring up at the full moon. She’d tried every incantation and spell she knew that should have allowed her to transport beyond her illusion and all of them had failed.

Meryn! She had to be the one behind this Anna deduced… her and her son. Unless she could find a way to break the spell, she realised that she would be trapped in her own illusion with nothing to feed her. She would die a long painful death by desiccation…

Silently Watching With Help From The Long Night’s Moon

The candle flames cast dancing shadows across the wall as gale force winds and icy rain continued to lash the beach hut. He could hear the waves of high tide crashing onto the beach close to the boundary wall. A glass of blood infused wine beside him, Jem sat reading the local newspaper that he’d picked up when he’d procured the wine from a local shop after hours. It was the headline on the front page that had caught his attention “Fourth Child Found Dead.”

His blood ran cold as he read the story for the third time. A young child had gone missing on the short walk home after getting off the school bus. The boy’s body had been found with throat injuries on waste ground behind the local grocery store, the same store Jem had visited earlier in the evening. Precious little blood had been left in the child’s corpse when the body had been examined, sparking rumours of vampire activity in the vicinity. The killing was being compared to three others that had occurred since the summer.

“Anna,” he growled angrily under his breath.

Candle flames were casting dancing shadows on the cold stone walls of the dark angel’s mausoleum. Still feeling satiated after her recent meal, Anna sat wrapped in her dark cloak, deep in thought. No matter how hard she concentrated, all she could smell was that damned sea moss that Meryn had used to heal her wounds. Over the summer, she had gradually regained most of her physical strength, although a weakness remained in her wing, making flying in blustery conditions impossible. Accepting her limitations, she had focussed her attention on her study of magic, seeking out incantations that allowed her to move from place to place without the need to fly. Her movements were still confined largely to a five-mile radius of the mausoleum, and, as she contemplated recent developments, Anna realised she had been careless. When she’d snatched that last child, she had sensed that someone was watching her.

“Why the frown?” asked Trine as she came to sit beside him.

“This,” muttered the runner, passing her the newspaper.

The ice maiden paled as she read the story.

“Four babies gone over the past few months,” she said sadly. “Those poor parents. You think Anna’s behind this?”

He nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Trine asked quietly, “Do you know where she is?”

“And how would I know that?” he snapped sharply.

“I don’t know,” she began hesitantly. “I thought perhaps you still felt a connection. The bond with your maker isn’t so different to that of parent and child.”

Running his hands through his hair, Jem looked her straight in the eye, “I don’t feel a connection to her, but I do need to try to find her. She’s out of control and this senseless killing has to stop.” He paused. “We… I took my eye off the ball for too long. Children have died through our…my carelessness.”

“You weren’t to know.”

“I should have been more vigilant,” he confessed. “I should have suspected Anna was behind this after the first kid died…or at least after the second. Kids don’t just die around here.”

“Perhaps,” conceded Trine, reaching out to put a hand on his thigh. “We could both have been more vigilant.”

“Perhaps.”

He sat staring into the flames of the wood burning stove, lost in thought.

Two days later, on the night before the full moon, the storm had long since blown through. From her favourite vantage point on the local church roof, the dark angel watched the line of children meander up the steep hill, chaperoned by several parents. She could smell the tantalising, delicate aroma of fresh untainted juvenile blood in the air; she could smell the fear of the adults as they passed. A large raven was perched in the tall tree beside the church. It appeared to all intents and purposes to be studying her. Just as she was about to throw a spell in its direction, the bird took flight, heading eastwards towards the surrounding woodland. The dark angel’s sixth sense was tingling.

As dusk fell, Jem decided the time had come to pay Anna a long overdue visit. While Trine had still been asleep earlier in the day, he’d risked powering up his mobile phone to check if the tracker was still working. It was. There had been a steady signal from the vicinity of the dark angel’s mausoleum home. He had only just managed to stow the phone away before the ice maiden entered the living room. Part of him hated himself for lying to her; part of him feared that she wouldn’t understand even if he could explain. Complicated didn’t begin to cover his thoughts on this mess.

A large raven was perched on the courtyard wall when he stepped out into the chilly December evening air. Something about the bird felt vaguely familiar.

Having checked that there was no one about, Jem spread his wings and soared into the darkening skies. It only took him a few short minutes to reach the area of woodland near the graveyard where Anna’s mausoleum lay hidden. Soundlessly, he landed in the small clearing that he had visited with her all those years before then followed the narrow trail through the trees back to where the tomb stood.  

He’d been walking for a couple of minutes when he sensed something felt wrong. At first, he struggled to determine why he felt so ill-at-ease then it struck him. He was detecting magic in the air…powerful dark magic. Scanning the area in the rapidly fading light, Jem realised that the trees looked “wrong”. Someone had altered the landscape. The mausoleum was missing. It simply wasn’t there…or was it?

Taking a few tentative steps forward, Jem used some of the skills his mother had taught him to “feel” the world about him. Inexperienced as he was, he couldn’t pinpoint the source of the illusion but he deduced that a cloaking spell had been cast over the entire area surrounding Anna’s mausoleum home.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself as he gazed round looking for inspiration.

To reach the dark angel, he’d need to break the spell.

To break the spell, he’d need help…his mother’s help.

Jem was about to leave when he had a thought. One of the spells Meryn had taught him was a defensive spell. It was essentially an impenetrable bubble that was placed round a person to keep them out of harm’s way. Could he surround the dark angel’s illusion with his own defensive spell and trap her?

Gathering his thoughts, the runner used the basic scrying skills he had been taught to try to establish the boundaries of the dark angel’s illusion. It took him a few attempts but finally he had it mapped out in his mind. With the boundaries identified, Jem tried to weave a defensive spell to seal the illusion in.

Beads of sweat quickly formed on his pale forehead as he fought to extend his magic far enough to encompass the illusion. After several attempts, he dropped to his knees, weakened by the efforts. His theory was sound; his technique was not.

Cursing under his breath, Jem hauled himself to his feet and headed back to the beach hut.

The raven watched him leave.

Barely able to stand, exhausted by his efforts, Jem stumbled into the warmth of the hut, startling Trine, who was quietly reading a book by the fire.

“What happened?” she asked, tossing the book aside. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he stated bluntly, reaching for the bottle of blood infused wine.

Without bothering with a glass, he drank deeply. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Jem revealed, “I’ve found our friend, but I need my mother’s help.”

“But Meryn’s still at the castle,” began Trine, looking a little confused.

“I need her here by tomorrow night,” he declared sharply. “Can you reach her?”

“I can try,” replied the ice maiden, getting to her feet. “Let me fetch the crystal ball my father gave me.”

“Do what you have to,” said Jem, before taking another long pull on the bottle. “I need to hunt. I’ll be back by first light.”

A pecking at the window of her tower study disrupted Meryn’s concentration. Looking up, she saw a large black raven tapping at the glass.

Setting aside the scroll she had been translating, she walked across to open the window. The large bird hopped inside then in a cloud of feathers, transformed into her wizened old friend.

“What brings you here at this hour?” she asked sharply, still somewhat annoyed at having her concentration disturbed.

“Excuse the interruption, Frau Meryn,” he apologised with a deep bow. “The boy needs your help.”

“Is Jeremiah ok?”

“Your son is fine, but he needs your assistance as a matter of some urgency.”

“Does this have something to do with Anna?”

“Yes, Frau Meryn” nodded the man frantically. “We need to leave now. Right away.”

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“No, Frau Meryn. This help needs the strength to be drawn from tomorrow’s full moon. You must depart now.”

“If you insist,” muttered the vampiress, her concern over the urgency of this matter growing stronger by the second.

“Allow me to assist with the travel,” implored the wizened old man. “Save your energy. I fear you may need every last ounce of your strength.”

“Most chivalrous. Thank you.”

Holding the crystal ball in her hand, Trine stared helplessly into its depths. There was no sign of light, no sign of her father’s study. The ball was black almost as if it had been placed in a drawer or perhaps a coat pocket.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, sounding utterly defeated. “It’s not working. It’s dark. My father’s not there.”

“Fuck,” growled Jem, running his hand through his hair. “For once in my life I actually need my mother and I can’t get to her.”

“I can leave now and go and fetch her,” offered Trine, feeling guilty at being unable to help.

“There isn’t enough time.”

“Why?”

He paused before replying, not wanting to let slip that Meryn had been teaching him magic, “I remember my mother saying the full moon strengthened her power. If we miss this one, there’s no guarantee Anna will still be there by the next one.”

“I’ll keep trying to reach my father,” Trine promised, knowing in her heart that it was futile.

“Leave it,” he said resignedly. “We both need sleep. We can try again later in the day.”

Still rubbing sleep from his eyes, the runner stumbled from the bedroom into the living room, leaving the ice maiden sleeping soundly. The air was cool but not as cool as it should feel in December. Focusing on the scene in front of him, Jem realised that the stove was lit and that his mother was sitting in front of it drinking a cup of tea.

“Mother?”

“Put some clothes on, Jeremiah,” she scolded calmly, disapproving of his boxer shorts-only look.

“How? Why? Did Trine reach you while I was asleep?”

“Clothes!” stated his mother. “Then I’ll explain.”

Having pulled on some jeans and a shirt, Jem returned to the living room.

“Is Trine asleep?” asked Meryn softly.

He nodded.

“The Raven brought me.”

“Raven?” he echoed, looking puzzled for a moment before the penny dropped. “Where does he fit into this?”

“I asked him to check in on you and Trine now and again,” Meryn confessed calmly. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter for now. He brought me here. Said you needed help.”

“I do,” admitted Jem, deciding the conversation around why his mother felt the need to spy on them could wait for now. “I’ve found her…kind of. I need your magic to trap her.”

“Explain.”

“Ok, short version,” he began hurriedly. “Four kids have died near here. At first, I didn’t think much of it but something about the last one made me suspicious. I went to visit her mausoleum only to discover it’s not there.”

“Not there?” echoed Meryn incredulously. “You can’t just move a tomb that size!”

“Exactly. She’s cloaked it in magic. The whole area just looks at first glance like the surrounding woodland only its just a little bit off. I thought I could add a layer over it like one of those defensive bubbles to trap her inside. I tried but I failed miserably.”

“Show me,” said Meryn, getting to her feet and pointing towards the door.

A few minutes later, mother and son landed lightly in the same clearing Jem had visited twenty-four hours earlier.

“Is she definitely in there?” asked Meryn quietly.

Before they had left the beach hut, Jem had had the foresight to grab the mobile phone from its hiding place in the secret drawer. It took a moment or two to power on but with a few taps of the screen he soon had the tracking app up. The dot was there for both of them to see.

“We’ve no time to lose,” said Meryn. “I need you to do exactly as I tell you, when I tell you. No argument. No debate. We need to work quickly.”

“Can you do it?”

“Alone? No. With your help, I’m hopeful but it won’t be quick or easy.”

Patiently, Jem watched as his mother began to weave the same defensive spell he’d attempted. He could almost smell the magic in the air as the incantation rooted itself to the illusion and began to spread out. The effort was etched into his mother’s face as she rhythmically repeated the complex incantation over and over again. Gradually, he sensed the bubble growing over the dark angel’s illusion.

“Help,” requested Meryn after a couple of hours. “Together.”

She reached for his hand, almost as if she needed to ground herself through him, and together they worked to cast the spell. Above them, the skies had cleared allowing the full Long Night Moon to feed their efforts. Hour after hour, mother and son focused on their mammoth task, drawing strength from the icy cold pale moonlight. In his mind’s eye, Jem could see a pale blue tinged sheen appear in the air, the shape’s sides slowly curving in until they only had a small circle at the top to seal.

Eventually, long past midnight, their work was done. As she completed the final incantation, Meryn’s remaining strength gave out. She crumpled to the ground in a heap at Jem’s feet.

Inside the mausoleum, the dark angel dropped the tome she had been studying. Something felt wrong. The balance of her world felt off. Probing with her mind, she reached out to check that her cloaking spell remained intact. It was but it felt different. Something had changed. Tentatively, she probed slightly beyond the invisible boundaries she had created and hit what felt like solid steel.

The realisation struck her almost instantly.

She had been sealed in!

Alone in the tomb, Anna let out a blood curdling howl of anguish.

Silently Watching on a Mother’s Moon

dark-angel

 

Shaded from the May sunshine, the dark angel sat on the church roof under the shelter of a towering horse chestnut tree. It was mid-afternoon and the local schoolchildren were slowly and noisily making their way up the steep hill. The tantalising smell of their youthful blood was teasing her senses. She hadn’t fed for a week and forbidden young blood was a tempting thought. Watching the kids closely, she spotted that two had peeled off from the group and were disappearing up the single-track road passed the graveyard. Should she? The thought lingered……

 

Restlessly, he paced the large room that he had been escorted to following the meeting with the Court of Elders. There had been no sign of Trine in the hallway as he had been led down the long corridor and up a tight, twisting, stone staircase to the room he was now in.

The room was round with several long narrow windows affording him a spectacular view over an unknown mountain range. Most of the peaks were snow covered. There were no obvious signs of any towns or villages. Not knowing where he was in the world unnerved him. He felt trapped. Imprisoned.

A tray of food lay untouched on the table beside the large fireplace. He didn’t feel hungry. He paused his pacing to stare into the flames of the log fire that was burning in the hearth, listening to the hiss and spit of the sap as it oozed from the largest log. Several small flames danced along the length of the burning piece of wood.

Behind him, the door opened with a squeal of rusty hinges and a creak of old oak.

He smiled in spite of his sour mood when he saw Trine step into the room.

“You haven’t eaten,” she noted as she stepped towards him.

“Not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” he repeated.

“Then at least have a glass of wine with me,” encouraged Trine, pouring them both a generous glass of dark red wine. “It’ll quench your blood thirst.”

Without waiting for his reply, she passed him the glass, their fingertips grazing each other as he accepted the glass.

Trine smiled.

“How long does your father intend to keep me here? I feel like a prisoner,” quizzed the runner, unable to mask his exasperation.

“I don’t know. The Court of Elders is still in session. I’ve not been able to speak with him yet,” apologised Trine quietly. “I’ll wait with you though. You’re his guest not his prisoner.”

“A guest who isn’t allowed to leave his room.”

“Patience, Son of Perran,” chided Trine with a smile. “I might not be privy to them but I’m sure my father has good reasons for asking you to stay.”

“I wasn’t asked,” he muttered.

In an effort to change the subject, Trine said, “I grew up here. Spent my childhood roaming every inch of this place.”

“Where are we?” asked the runner, hoping she would reveal their location.

“A long way from your beach hut,” she replied evasively. “I can’t tell you our location. It’s forbidden.”

“Why am I not surprised!”

“What happened when you went before the Court?”

Walking back across the chamber to the window, he replied, “Your father asked me if I would kill her.”

“And will you?”

“For a price.”

“You bargained with the Elders?” exclaimed Trine, eyes wide with shock. “That’s unheard of! Well, unheard of and for you to still be alive to tell the tale.”

“Your father agreed to the deal in the end.”

“Wow! You must have really impressed him.”

“He did,” came a familiar voice from the doorway. “Trine, a little privacy if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Papa.”

 

Without moving from his stance by the window, the runner watched Trine glide gracefully from the room, closing the door behind her.

“Our deal should remain a secret between yourself and the Elders for now,” cautioned Stefan, as he poured himself a glass of wine.

The runner nodded before taking a sip from his own glass. He could feel the blood infused wine coursing through his veins.

“Can I leave?” he asked simply. “I’d like to go home.”

“Soon,” replied Stefan calmly. “We still have much to talk about. Plus, I’d like to personally educate you a little on our history and our code of conduct. It might prove helpful to you for the task that lies ahead of you.”

Deciding to remain silent about the fact that he already knew how to kill the dark angel, he nodded reluctantly, “And I suppose my mother wants to meet with me too.”

“She does but I’ve sent her on an errand for me,” Stefan revealed. “You’ll see her before you eventually leave here, I’m sure.”

“And where is here?”

“You know I’m not about to reveal that, son,” said the mature vampire with a smile. “This castle has remained hidden for almost a thousand years. We’d like to keep it that way.” He paused, noting the setting sun outside, “Tomorrow I’ll ask Trine to give you a tour. She knows this castle like the back of her hand. She grew up here without playmates. I regret that. Her mother would never have approved this life for her.”

“Is her mother not here?”

“She’s dead,” replied Stefan simply. “Giving birth to Trine killed her. Too much blood loss. Vampire births are dangerous.”

Stefan shook his head, “She has a brother. He’s in the North on a mission. My son prefers the company of wolves to vampires.”

Together, they stood watching the sunset, drinking the wine in silence. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Stefan drained his glass and said, “I’ll have Trine show you round after breakfast. I’ll meet you in the afternoon to begin your formal education. For now, though, Son of Perran, I’ll bid you goodnight.”

 

Next morning Trine returned to the chamber carrying a tray of breakfast for him.

“You must be starving,” she observed lightly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Actually, I did,” replied the runner as he got out of bed. “What am I meant to do for clean clothes?”

“Look in the wardrobe, silly,” giggled the ice maiden. “There’s plenty to choose from.”

Crossing the room to open the large mahogany wardrobe, he wasn’t surprised to find it filled with clothes in his exact size. Lifting down a shirt and dark jeans, he said, “Give me a few minutes. I need to shower.”

 

Despite his initial reservations, the runner enjoyed his tour of the castle. As they walked through the various hallways, Trine told him stories from vampire history, pointing out features that were of historical importance. She also interspersed their history lesson with anecdotal tales of her childhood escapades. Their tour ended on the castle ramparts.

An icy wind was blowing as they walked along the narrow path that led them round the walls of the castle.

“You room is in that tower over there,” said Trine, pointing out one of eight towers of varying heights. “My father’s rooms are in the tallest tower and the Court is below them.”

“Where is your room?” he asked, admiring the splendour of the architecture.

“Above yours,” replied Trine. “Non- Elders are lodged in that tower as it is the one furthest away from the head Elder’s chambers.”

“So, when you were a child you had to sleep away over here while your dad was in his big fancy tower?”

Trine nodded, “Occasionally I would sneak into his room. If he found me asleep in his bed, he usually let me stay. When I got older though he would always make me return to my own room.”

“Where does my mother live around here?” quizzed the runner, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“In that small tower to the right of where my father sleeps. There are three female members of the Court. They all have rooms in that tower.”

“The view is stunning,” he conceded, gazing across the mountains. “Why does no one just up and fly away?”

“There’s an enchantment over the castle. It prevents anyone from leaving without my father’s permission.”

“Even you?”

“Everyone,” repeated Trine. “Let’s go in. He’ll be waiting for you by now.”

 

Instead of leading him back to his own room, Trine led them round the ramparts towards the tallest tower. Eventually, she paused beside what to the runner just looked like a stone wall. With a wink, Trine pressed on a combination of smaller bricks and a hidden stone doorway opened.

“Did I mention secret passages?” she said with a girlish giggle. “Come on. Follow me. Watch your head. The ceiling is low inside.”

Taking him by the hand, Trine led him down a narrow staircase, along several twisting corridors before finally emerging in a sumptuous sitting room via another doorway hidden behind thick velvet drapes.

“When will you learn to use the door, daughter?” chided her father, who was sitting in an armchair beside the fireplace.

“Never, father,” she laughed.

“Ignore my childish daughter,” said Stefan getting to his feet. “Welcome, Son of Perran, I trust Trine is taking good care of you.”

“Yes,” replied the runner. “She’s been giving me a tour of the castle. Don’t think I’ll ever find my way round here.”

“It is a bit of a maze,” conceded Stefan warmly. “Please, sit. Trine, make yourself useful and pour us a drink then make yourself scarce for an hour or two. I wish to speak to our friend here in private.”

 

Once alone, Stefan raised his glass towards the runner and said, “Skal.”

“Yeghes da.”

“You must be wondering about why we choose to live here,” began the Head of the Court of Elders.

The runner nodded, “However, I would like to go home if that’s ok with you.”

“And as I said before, I’d like you stay for a short while,” stated Stefan in tone that left little room for negotiation.

“Why?”

“I would like to begin to fill in some of the gaps in your education. From what I’ve heard you’ve been taught very little about our traditions, our rules and our way of living. Once that education has been completed, I plan to bring you before the court again to discuss your creator. If at that hearing you still wish to make the same bargain, then I will keep my word and we will arrange for you to be extinguished.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Time will tell, son,” he said. “Plus, I promised your mother.”

“She has no right to interfere!”

“She has every right, Son of Perran,” countered Stefan sharply. “You will remain here until the second full moon. Ironically, it’s the Mother’s Moon.”

“Guess, I have no choice.”

 

The weeks passed swiftly as he settled into the way of life in the castle. Mornings were spent studying in the castle library with Michael; afternoons were spent with Alessandro. Every day he had dinner with Trine, their meals prepared in the kitchens to ensure that the lust for blood was quenched. Once a week they were allowed out to hunt. An enchanted chain spell kept him tethered to Trine, the furthest he could stray from her was twenty metres away. Together, they hunted on wildlife, choosing mountain goats and the occasional sheep.

In the evenings, Stefan would invite him to join him in his chambers. On the odd occasion, Trine was allowed to stay. Despite himself, he began to look forward to the evenings by Stefan’s fireplace. They chatted amiably over a few glasses of wine discussing the world in general or more often than not the runner had questions about the things he was learning.

As May’s full moon approached, he began to look forward to the thought of returning home. He was craving the comfort of his own things. He was eagerly anticipating sitting on the beach in front of his hut watching the sunset and listening to the waves lapping in against the shingle beach.

His heart however was troubled. Over the weeks, he had grown closer to Trine, grown fond of her. His lessons had shown him just how twisted and dangerous the dark angel was, but he still had reservations about killing her in cold blood. He was, as Stefan had anticipated, having second thoughts about ending his own eternal life.

A date for his second appearance at the Court of Elders had been set. He was due to appear one week after the full moon.

 

Standing alone on the castle ramparts, the runner watched the sun sink below the horizon. The moon was slowly emerging – the full Mother’s Moon. He stood gazing out across the mountain range watching the sky darken and the moon brighten.

“There you are!” exclaimed Trine from behind him. “You’re late!”

“Late for what?” he asked without moving.

“Supper with my father. He’s waiting for you,” explained Trine. “And you now how he hates to be kept waiting.”

“And if I don’t want to have supper with him?” challenged the runner defiantly. “I’m quite happy out here.”

“Son of Perran,” she snapped, her blue eyes staring icily into his soul. “Don’t play games with me! You can come back and howl at the moon later, but you are coming with me now!”

Before he could protest, she wrapped her wings around him and the world went black.

 

When he opened them, he knew instantly by the smell and the pattern of the rug that Trine had transported them to Stefan’s study.

“Thank you, Trine,” he heard a familiar voice say. “Son?”

Lifting his gaze from the floor, he found himself face to face with his mother.

“Mother,” he greeted with quiet sarcasm. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Sarcasm never did suit you,” she rebuked sharply. “Come. Sit. Supper is getting cold.”

When he glanced round, Trine had vanished. Stefan was also conveniently absent. He was alone in the chamber with his mother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silently Watching at the Long Night’s Moon

 

dark-angel

It was one of those rare crystal-clear sunny December days and the air around him was crisp, the cold biting on his cheeks. There wasn’t a living soul to be seen for miles. Eyes fixed on the road ahead, he ran. Mile after mile, he ran hard and fast, grateful for once to be free to run at his true pace, instead of running at a pace fitting of his physical age. He was angry. He was frustrated. He was scared… no, not scared… uncertain about what the future held for him.

Over the quarter of a century that he’d followed the monthly ritual to the letter, there had been many changes in his life. He’d watched his children grow up, leave school, graduate from university then venture out into the world on their own. Each of them had left home before they graduated in their chosen field; each of them had emigrated and were now scattered to the corners of the globe. Without them, the family home grew quiet. Fate dealt him a cruel blow when a short illness claimed his beloved wife. In the five years since her sudden death, the family home had grown empty, void of life. Now that he had finally retired from his job, his never-ending future stretched as endlessly in front of him as the road he was running along.

Life was lonely.

In all that time, he hadn’t aged a day. By the time he reached his late forties, he’d had to “fake” ageing to prevent questions being asked. Adding grey to his hair had been easy. Explaining the lack of wrinkles had been harder but he’d dismissed it as “good genes” to curious friends and colleagues. Hiding his physical abilities had been frustrating, to say the least.

Hiding his vampire urges had become a way of life. Initially, he’d used the excuse of “checking out a new trail” as a convenient cover story to travel further afield to hunt. He’d even resorted to creating fictitious non-local running buddies to allow him more freedom to seek out fresh blood. Now that he lived alone, he could come and go as he pleased. In his heart though, he missed the days of “lying” to his family about his excursions. Over time he had grown adept at covering his tracks, choosing his victims with great care.

Reaching the cattle grid, his chosen turning point, he turned for home, the sun now behind him as it sank lower in the sky. Pounding out the miles, he tried to ignore the two pain points on his back. Gradually over the weeks, the sites of his wing buds had grown hard and tender. Over the past few days, he had become aware of the skin stretching and tightening to the point of being painful. Now, as he pounded his way up the final steep section of his route, he felt the taut skin split and tear. He howled in pain across the empty landscape.

His wings had begun to emerge……….

 

Perched on the church roof, the dark angel sat watching the sun set. Over the years she had tried to nurture her fledging and ensure his safety but he had proved to be more strong-willed than she’d anticipated. In the early years, he had been an attentive student, proving to be a quick learner, but, once he mastered feeding himself, their paths had rarely crossed. With a heavy heart, she had been forced to watch from afar. Occasionally, she still followed him at a discrete distance purely for the pleasure of watching him hunt. There was a gracefulness to his movements that she had come to envy.

In her heart, the dark angel knew that she had broken many of the rules laid down by the Court of Elders when she had created him but she had gone to great lengths to keep her tracks well-hidden. To the best of her knowledge, they remained blissfully unaware of the runner’s existence.

And, for both their sakes, it had to remain that way.

A steady pounding rhythm echoed through her and she turned to gaze up the hill towards the railway bridge. Smiling, she sensed his return as he ran up the street towards his home.

Blood stained the back of his running top when he twisted to look in the bathroom mirror. He hadn’t really needed that reflection to tell him his shoulders were oozing blood. Carefully, he peeled the sweat-soaked t-shirt over his head, wincing as the soft material grazed the broken skin. As he stepped under the jet of hot water in the shower, he cried out in agony. He could almost feel the wings growing and bursting through. Could they really be developing so fast?

He hated to admit it but he needed to see her. Needed to see the dark angel.

Next morning, after an uncomfortable and largely sleepless night, he walked down the hill towards the graveyard. He’d picked up a small white pebble from a plant pot beside his front door and was turning it over and over in his hand as he walked.

It had been almost three years since he’d last summoned her……

When he reached the cemetery, he bounded up the steps then walked purposefully towards the bench, placing the pebble in the centre of the slatted seat.

Without a backwards glance, he headed home to wait.

Late afternoon, as he enjoyed a cigarette in the garden, he watched the sky redden as the sun set. As the yellows turned to gold then red, he wondered how long it would take the dark angel to respond to his signal.

Sensing a subtle movement in the air behind him, he spun around.

“Son of Perran,” greeted the angel warmly. “It’s been a long time.”

Glancing round, he checked that there were no lights on in any of the neighbouring houses and that none of his neighbours were in their gardens.

“Relax,” she purred. “The shadow’s hiding my presence from prying eyes.”

“Come inside,” he invited, indicating the open back door.

“No, thank you,” she declined politely. “I prefer to remain outside. Now, you summoned me?”

He nodded.

“Are you going to tell me why or am I going to have to guess?”

“Come inside and I’ll show you.”

“If I must,” she muttered, reluctantly following the runner into the house.

With a small smile, he watched as the dark angel wandered around his kitchen, a curious look on her face. She ran her slender hand over his granite countertops almost marvelling at their smoothness.

“Not what I expected,” she murmured before turning to face her fledging. “Now, what did you need to show me? I’m sure it wasn’t your kitchen.”

“This,” he said as he pulled his loose hooded sweatshirt over his head.

Slowly, he turned around and stood with his back to her.

“Oh,” she said, taking a step towards him.

From the two designated spots in the Celtic tattoo that spanned his shoulders, two small wings were forming. Having burst through the skin twenty-four hours earlier, his wings were now growing rapidly. Already the first feathers were clearly visible.

“Well, are you going to magic me up a potion to reverse this fuckup?” he growled as he felt her run her cool hand over his blossoming wings.

“No.”

“No?” he echoed sharply. “What do you mean no?”

“Son of Perran, I told you twenty-five years ago that there was nothing else I could do,” she explained.

“So, what am I meant to do?”

“Let them grow. Let them flourish,” she said casually before adding, “Then learn to fly.”

“Fly?” he yelled. “Fly? You think I want to fucking learn to fly? How am I meant to live with wings? Please tell me that.”

“Enough, child!” she snapped, her patience finally worn thin. “The time has come to accept who and what you are! For over a quarter of a century, I’ve watched over you. I’ve taught you. Some lessons you learned better than others. Now though, you are on your own. I can’t protect you anymore.”

Pulling her own majestic wings around her, the dark angel moved towards the open door.

“Wait!” he called out.

She paused.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anger before his Rabbia Sanguigna surfaced, he said, “I appreciate that you’ve tried to help me after this transformation went wrong. I do. I know I broke some of the rules but they were rules you never told me about until it was too late. So, humour me a few moments more, please.”

With her green eyes blazing with ager, the dark angel nodded.

“How long will these things take to grow?”

“About a week.”

“How easy is it to use them?”

“You’re athletic. It’ll come easily to you.”

“Is there anything else you should have told me or taught me before now?”

His last question hung in the air. For a moment or two, he wondered if she was going to answer him then she bowed her head.

“Son of Perran, I have failed you,” she spoke slowly. “I broke many rules when I created you. A price will need to be paid in time. For now, my final piece of advice to you is to leave. Go into hiding. Avoid large gatherings. Avoid cities.”

Before he could reply, she slipped out of the door.

When he went to look for her, she was gone.

Closing the door, he realised that the time had come and that he needed to move on. The time had come to close up the family home indefinitely and move into his private “bolthole.”

Several years before he had seized a rare property opportunity and purchased one of the fisherman’s huts on the shoreline. Over time, he had renovated the semi-derelict building, ensuring that it was water-tight, warm and furnished then he had left it empty.

The time had finally come to take up residence.

Over the course of a week, he put his affairs in order, circulated a rumour that he was going travelling now that he had retired then began to sort through his belongings. He kept it simple – keep, leave or trash. There had been numerous trips to the local recycling centre as he disposed of his old life box by box. Under the cover of darkness, he carried the boxes of belongings to be kept down the narrow, overgrown path from the main road to the hut.

As the days passed, it felt to him that the more of his old life he eliminated, the more his wings flourished.

By the following Thursday, under the watchful eye of the Long Night’s full moon, he left the family home for the final time with a heavy heart but without a backwards glance.

It was almost midnight by the time he had walked from the village to the hut. He had sold his car earlier in the day, handing the keys over with a wrench of pain rattling through his soul. It had seemed the more sensible option to travel along the longer, darker coastal path, feeling secure in the knowledge that most of the journey could pass unnoticed in the shelter of the forest.

Under the cover of the trees, he didn’t need to hide his wings. Despite his initial disgust at their growth, he had to concede that, now fully formed, they were majestic, rivalling the dark angel’s. Much to his amazement, the feathers had grown in varying shades of russet, brown and gold, their tips a bright emerald green. In a twist of fate, their colouring reflected the colours of nature that he loved among the trails that he ran so relentlessly.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the low hut finally came into view. Luck had been on his side and he hadn’t seen another living soul since leaving his former home behind him. As he unlocked the door, he glanced out across the still river, marvelling at the full moon’s perfect reflection on its glassy surface. A familiar warmth welcomed him into his new home.

Using only the light of the moon, he busied himself unpacking the last box of personal effects that he had brought from the family home. The last item to be lifted from the box was a framed photo of his wife and children. It had been taken on their last family holiday. Precious memories of those two weeks in the sun made him smile as he set the frame on the shelf beside the bed.

An unfamiliar noise outside spooked him. Every sense was suddenly on alert. He glanced out of the small side window across the enclosed courtyard adjacent to the hut. Beyond the boundary wall, there was a bench that sat on the grassy verge facing the river.

A hooded figure sat there alone.

With his heart pounding in his chest, he stepped outside to investigate.

If the midnight visitor heard him approach, they gave no outward sign until he was two strides away from the bench then they looked up. Even in the pale moonlight, he could tell the cloaked figure was a beautiful blonde woman. She was staring at him with piercing glacier blue eyes.

“Son of Perran?” she asked, her voice soft but almost void of any discernible accent.

Slowly, he nodded.

“Sit. We need to talk.”

 

(imaged sourced via Google – credits to the owner)

Silently Watching At The Buck Moon

dark-angel

Blind fury surged through his veins as he pounded out some long, angry miles along the trails behind his village home. He could feel the blood burning through his lean body. By running hard and fast, he was trying to distract himself from the cries of the Rabbia Sanguigna. His changeling soul was screaming for blood.

It had been an infuriating day from the moment he’d opened his eyes. Breakfast has been beyond chaotic as the kids had been fractious, each squabbling with their siblings over nothing. The family cat depositing a live bird in the middle of the kitchen hadn’t helped matters. He’d left with his daughter’s shrieks of hysteria echoing through his mind.

A white pebble had sat on the wiper blade of the car when he’d left to go to work. He was being summoned. His intention was to end his evening run with a visit to the graveyard.

A long hot day in the office hadn’t helped. There were new members in his team and his boss had buddied him up with one of them. The guy was a “know-it-all” who knew nothing and talked crap all day. Despite his best efforts to calmly walk him through the correct processes, his colleague knew a better way to do everything. After lunch, he’d adopted his “fuck it” approach and left the guy to it. He’d emailed his boss to express his concerns over the less experienced team member’s attitude to following documented processes and his understanding of the importance of complying to regulation then left for the day.

Over the months, he’d noticed that it proved more challenging to control the urges associated with the Rabbia Sanguigna around the time of the full moon. For four or five days his already heightened senses were on edge and the least little thing sparked the urge for blood. The dark angel had tried to teach him how to control the desires and how to prepare for them to lessen the effects but, four months down the line, the blood from his mother had long since worn off and none of the techniques were working.

Up ahead, at the side of the road, he spotted a cyclist standing beside his bike studying the front wheel. His sensitised nasal passages caught a whiff of blood in the air.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asked as he approached. It looked as though the cyclist had crashed. Blood was trickling from cuts on his arm and thigh and he was holding his arm protectively over his ribs.

“Car clipped me,” explained the cyclist through gritted teeth. “Think I’ve broken my collar bone and some ribs. Bike’s wrecked. Wheel’s twisted.”

Glancing round, the runner noted there was no one in sight. His blossoming vampire urges seized control. In a split second, before either of them had had time to think, he stepped towards the injured cyclist, reached out as if to help him then sunk his teeth into the ripe throbbing vein in his neck.

The clean vibrant human blood flowed into his veins tasting divine. He drank deeply.

It hadn’t been his intention to drain him dry but, before he realised what he was doing, the cyclist crumpled at his feet. His eyes were open and glazed.

He’d killed him.

He’d made his first human kill.

His satiated blood ran cold. What had he done?

 

 

A crimson sunset was lighting up the sky as he ran up the steps into the quiet cemetery. His earlier blind fury had been replaced by blind panic and he prayed the angel was waiting by the tree.

“Care to explain yourself, Son of Perran!” she hissed in his ear as he walked towards their usual meeting point.

“Jesus!” he yelped. He hadn’t heard or felt her approach.

“Careless! Messy! Sloppy!” she berated him angrily. “Have you learned nothing from me? What were you thinking about? You never even attempted to cover your tracks!”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled staring down at his feet.

“Too late for sorry!”

“I lost control. My blood’s been burning all day. I hunted last night but I was so thirsty. He was bleeding…” he faltered. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I meant to stop like you explained. Leave him alive.”

“But you didn’t!” raged the angel, her green eyes blazing with fury. “Fortunately for you I was nearby and smelled the blood. I’ve covered your track this time. Heed me well, Son of Perran, this is the only time!”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly, feeling like a child being chastised by its mother.

“You will be,” she muttered, her voice a little calmer. “Think! Was the moon visible while you drank from him?”

“No idea.”

“Oh,” sighed the angel, her voice ringing with exasperation. “What have you started?”

“How’d you mean?”

“There is no going back for you now.”

“No going back where?”

“You may have just made your first human kill under the rising of the full moon. The Buck Moon at that, you fool!”

His dark brown eyes suddenly filled with fear, the runner stared at her.

“Sit,” instructed the angel, indicating their usual bench beside the tree.

Without complaint, he sat down and watched as she took a seat beside him, angling herself in such as a way as to prevent there being any damage to her majestic wings.

“The full moon always acts as a catalyst. It strengthens the effect of things. It speeds up the changes. It enhances the desires. It heightens the senses,” she began calmly. “Some full moons have different effects. That’s why I wanted to speak to you. To warn you about the dangers of tonight’s full moon. I knew you’d hunted last night. I thought there was time….”

“Time for what? What dangers?” he interrupted.

“The Buck Moon is powerful, Son of Perran. Have you drunk your mugwort today?”

A realisation dawned on the runner. He hadn’t taken his mugwort tea for three days.

“No,” he confessed. “And I might have missed a day or two.”

“Missed a day or two?” echoed the angel sharply. “Golden rule, Son of Perran. That was one of your golden rules!”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” she snapped. “It’s too late for apologies. If there’s been damage done, it’s too late to stop it.”

“Stop what?” His tone was sharper and more demanding than he’d intended.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, the angel said, “By making your first human kill under the light of a full moon, you have increased your body’s need and desire for human blood. Animal blood may no longer satiate your thirsts. You, Son of Perran, have made yourself a killer.”

With his head in his hands, the runner sat trembling. What had he done?

“That’s only part of it,” continued the angel. “The Buck Moon is so named as it’s the moon that marks the time when young male deer start to develop their antlers. For our kind, it’s the moon when wings are most likely to bud. I had been going to warn you to double up on the mugwort for the next few days but it’s too late for that now.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

All of his worst nightmares were gathering in front of him and becoming a cold harsh reality.

“Now what do I do?” he asked when he was finally able to speak.

“For a start, double up on the mugwort for a week. If your wings are going to bud, you’ll feel it by the end of the week.”

“I can’t grow fucking wings!” he growled. “How will I explain them?”

“There may be a way to slow their growth,” she said slowly, “If they bud.”

“Great! More hocus pocus!”

“Quiet,” she cautioned sternly. “How you feed is now a more pressing issue.”

“Why?”

“Have you listened to a thing I’ve said?”

Gazing at him with almost motherly concern, the angel wanted to reach out to reassure her fledgling at the same time as she wanted to scream and yell at him for his stupidity. Her own anger was rising and she knew if she didn’t hunt soon, she’d lose her temper with him.

“Son of Perran, I’ll be blunt. Your impetuous meal tonight has ensured that you’ll need human blood at least once a week to survive. You might want to work out a plan on how you are going to find the source of your sustenance!”

“Once a week? I’ll need to kill once a week?”

“Not necessarily kill if you can master the art of restraint,” she said.

“I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

“Succinctly put,” she said getting to her feet. “Go home. Drink your mugwort then drink some more. Keep your temper in check. Meet me here one week from tonight.”

Before he could reply, she’d spread her majestic wings and vanished from sight.

 

(image sourced via Google – credits to the owner)

 

 

 

 

Silently Watching at the Storm Moon

dark-angel

Finally, the pungent aroma of decaying flesh became too much to bear. Grimacing at the pain it caused her, the dark angel dragged herself up into a sitting position. After the warmth of the animal furs and the velvet blanket that she had been shrouded in, the air of her mausoleum home felt icy cold. Reaching out a withered hand, she pulled herself onto her knees and then finally, her balance unsteady, she stood naked in the middle of the floor. Her weeks of enforced dormancy had left her severely weakened and somewhat vulnerable. Unnourished, even vampires wither and age.

Blood!

She needed blood and she needed it urgently. But, did she have any strength left to hunt? She was going to have to try then she needed to check on her fledgling. Had the blood from his mother tamed the Rabbia Sanguigna?

Dressing sapped more of her limited strength but, eventually, just as the sun rose over the horizon, she was ready to venture out into the world again. Drawing her cloak around her for warmth, she set out in search of much needed sustenance.

 

A lone commuter stood on the platform at the station, engrossed in a news article on his phone. Her fangs found his jugular vein before he even realised that he was no longer alone. As his warm blood flowed smoothly down her throat, the dark angel felt life seep back into her ravaged body. With the businessman’s body drained dry, she pushed him off the platform onto the tracks, kicking his bag and phone after him.

If she could feed again before the sun set, she might just recover before the full moon.

A glance at the newspaper the man had dropped informed her it was 20th March   confirming she had been dormant too long.

 

Eleven long weeks and two full moons had passed with no sign of her. Eleven long weeks since she had delivered the two flasks of blood with her gentle kiss. It had been a rare show of tenderness and that kiss was imprinted on his memory.

Every Friday night he had checked the tree for his expected blood ration only to find the hollow empty.

He had been left with no choice but to hunt for himself. The blood from the flasks had sustained him for almost a week before he felt the now familiar hunger start to grow. Before she had vanished, the dark angel had promised that he’d “know” if the blood from his mother had calmed the rage of his Rabbia Sanguigna. Within twenty-four hours he’d noticed a change in himself – a subtle change. He had still craved blood as badly as before but he felt more in control of his desires. Over the next few weeks he learned if he stayed calm and relaxed, the desire melted into the background; as soon as he became angry or frustrated, the urge returned instantly and the desire to taste the warm ferrous nectar from a live creature pulsed more overwhelmingly than ever.  Once, when he’d almost lost his temper while driving, he’d felt a sudden craving for human blood. That thought had chilled him to the bone.

Calm……how could he stay calm when the angel had abandoned him and vanished without a trace?

Hunting during the months of winter had proved challenging. He had taken to hunting on his way home from work, feeding from the livestock in the fields behind the village. There had been plenty of sheep to choose from but the blood of the expectant ewes soured his stomach, leaving him nauseous. After a third day of vomiting rings round himself, he decided that sheep were off the menu. At the back of his mind, he recalled the angel’s warning about drinking from expectant mothers and deduced that this must hold true for expectant ovine mothers too.

Cows’ and horses’ blood sustained him. Deer, despite tasting divine, proved too quick for him. A feast of deer blood was a rare treat obtained through sheer dumb luck rather than hunting prowess.

The day before March’s full moon fell on his scheduled day off from work. With the kids at school and nursery and his wife out running errands, he decided to treat himself to a long run along his beloved forestry trails.

It was a clear crisp Spring day, perfect for a long run. He’d hunted on the way home the evening before and, with his music playing through his iPod, was content just to allow the ground to pass under his feet without the need to watch for a possible victim. Deciding to deviate from his usual route, he set off in search of a small remote reservoir far up in the hills behind the village. His plan was to circle the small loch then head east along the trail to the larger reservoir that served the area before doubling back and returning home via the remote B class road that led into the back of the village.

When he reached the trail that led down to the small reservoir, he found that it had been washed out in a storm and was unpassable. Changing his plan, he stayed on the trail he’d been following. The reservoir was about fifty yards off to his right. A movement caught his attention and he paused to gaze over at the shaded expanse of water. For a split second he thought he’d seen someone bathing in the icy water. He could have sworn it was her.

Deciding that his mind was playing tricks on him, he returned his focus to his run and set off again, upping his pace.

 

Breaking through the surface of the cold water, the angel came up gasping for breath. That has been close! Thank God for that infernal noise he chose to listen to. If she hadn’t heard it, she would never have known he was close. That thought triggered a fresh concern for her. He might be oblivious to it but her fledgling had developed a new vampire talent – silent footfall.

As the water stilled around her, she glanced down at her reflection. Her skin had rehydrated after her breakfast of human blood. There were still dark shadows under her eyes with deep wrinkles around them. A wide white streak had appeared in her raven black hair.

Her trip to Spain had certainly left its mark on her.

There was no time to dwell on things beyond her control. She had neglected her fledgling for too long. It was time to resume his education.

 

Next morning dawned wild and wet, a strong gusting wind sending wheelie bins flying across the roads. When he left the house, running late for work, he almost missed the sign that had been left on his windscreen A white pebble had been balanced on the wiper blade and a small black feather with a purple tip was tucked under it.

She was alive!

He let out a long, relieved sigh, releasing weeks of tension that he hadn’t realised had built up.

But where and when was he to meet her?

First things first, he had to get to work.

 

It was growing dark when he finally logged off his pc and gathered up his belongings. His last conference call of the day at four o’clock had over run, ending with an action for him to revise a paper he had prepared before the end of the day. He’d managed to pull the figures together in record time and hoped they met with the approval of those further up the food chain. It had been a long day and it was now an hour and half past the end of his shift. Pausing to wish the security guard goodnight, he left the building and headed across the car park towards his car.

As he unlocked the car, he felt the air move beside him.

“Son of Perran,” whispered a familiar voice. “You ignored my sign.”

“I didn’t ignore it,” he replied as he spun round to find himself face to face with the angel. “I didn’t understand it.  I needed to get to work. I was planning to look for you in the cemetery on my way home.”

Staring deep into his soul, her green eyes locked with his brown ones. Unable to look away, he felt her probing into his mind uninvited.

“Praise be” she sighed. “It worked.”

“Eh?”

“Your Rabbia Sanguigna is under control.”

“If you’d asked, I could’ve told you it was” he snapped, his hand clenching tight around his car key. “Don’t enter my mind uninvited again!”

“My apologies. That was unforgiveable,” she said, bowing her head. “I needed to see for myself. Needed to know for sure.”

“Yeah and I’ve needed you. Where have you been for the past eleven weeks?”

“Indisposed,” replied the angel softly.

Looking at her properly for the first time, he saw that she had aged. Without thinking, he reached out to touch the white streak at the front of her hair. “What happened?”

“My trip to find your mother took its toll,” she replied evasively. “I drank tainted blood on the way home. That and the effort of keeping the blood warm for so long almost ended me.”

“You ok?”

“I’ll recover,” assured the angel forcing a smile. “And you, Son of Perran, are you well?”

“I think so,” he replied sounding a little unsure.

“Is the blood rage really under control?”

He nodded, “As long as nothing winds me up. If I get frustrated or pissed off at something, I can feel it rising. I’ve not reacted to it…. yet.”

“Well done,” she praised. “You’ve shown maturity.”

“You didn’t leave me much choice!”

“True,” she conceded.

“Look, I need to get home. I’m late,” he began awkwardly. “Can we talk later?”

“I need to hunt later.”

“Get in,” said the runner impulsively as he opened the passenger side door. “We can talk on the way.”

“I can’t sit in there,” answered the angel, rustling her wings gently.

“Shit! Forgot about those,” he muttered slamming door shut then not to be thwarted said, “Get in the back. You can lie along the back seat.”

“How undignified,” complained the angel as she slid into the backseat of the car.

“Sorry. It’s the best I can do,” he apologised as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

As he exited the car park, he could feel her eyes boring into him. She watched him in silence for a few minutes before saying softly, “I saw you yesterday.”

“So, it was you I saw at the reservoir?”

“Yes,” she replied. “If it hadn’t been for that awful noise you listen to, I wouldn’t have heard you approaching.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You run soundlessly, son of Perran.”

“Pardon?”

“You’ve developed some new vampire traits while I’ve been absent,” she observed. “Some full blood traits.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“I’ll make this easy for you to understand, fledgling,” began the angel sounding irritated. “Your partial transformation has failed.”

“Failed?”

“Yes, and I am truly sorry about that,” she apologised sincerely.

“So, what does that mean?” he demanded as he stopped the car at a red light.

“From what I saw in your mind, the blood from your mother calmed the Rabbia Sanguigna but it also disturbed the delicate balance of your transformation. Your full blood faculties are developing. You run and walk without making a sound. You could already read minds. You had perfect vision. Now, you also have perfect hearing over long distances, if you choose to listen.”

“I don’t get it,” he said as the traffic lights turned to green.

“Visualise your home, son of Perran,” she instructed. “And listen.”

He did as she asked then felt a chill run through him as he heard his wife talking to the kids as clearly as if he was standing beside her.

“How?” he spluttered, not fully comprehending what was going on. “Why?”

“It had to the blood from your mother. She must be more of a full blood then I detected.”

“Christ, I don’t believe this is happening!” he growled, slamming his hand onto the steering wheel. “So, now what? Am I going to grow a set of wings and go around killing people to survive?”

“In time, most likely.”

“You have to be kidding me? This is not what I agreed to……. You promised me!”

“I know,” she interrupted him. “And you have no idea how dreadful I feel about all that has happened. Maybe if you spoke to your mother. Found out about her history.”

“No way!” he declared loudly. “Besides, she’s disappeared.  I’ve not heard from her since Christmas. She’s not been home since her trip to Spain.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yeah,” he muttered sourly. “She’ll turn up. She always does.”

“Has she vanished before?” quizzed the angel sharply.

“Many times, but, sadly, she always turns up.”

“Where does she go?”

“No idea. She never says and I don’t care enough to ask.”

In the rear-view mirror, he could see the dark angel looking thoughtful and he wondered if his mother’s vanishing acts were somehow important.

They drove on in silence for several minutes and, as he indicated to turn off the dual carriageway to take the back-road home, the angel said, “Stop when we are out of sight of the farm.”

“Sure,” he said as large drops of rain began to hit the windscreen.

A loud peel of thunder rattled over head and the rain instantly grew heavier. As he pulled off to the side of the road, the sky lit up with a flash of fork lightning.

“Do you want to wait here till that storm blows through?” he asked as he killed the engine.

For a moment the angel hesitated then said, “No. I need to feed and the storm will afford me some cover. People die easily during thunder storms. Unexpected unexplained accidents.”

A chill rattled through him as he realised that she intended to dine on human blood when she left his car.

“What’s the plan here then?” he asked, still struggling to process the information she’d given him

“We need to resume your education,” she answered simply. “You need to learn our old ways, how to feed properly and how to live unseen and undetected in the human world.”

“How long will that take?”

“Years, I hope,” said the angel quietly. “The partial transformation enchantment should slow your maturity. We can work together to slow the changes. Double your mugwort. That should be strong enough to prevent your wings from budding.” She paused for a second then added, “You need to continue to hunt for yourself. Hone those skills. Not too often. Vary your targets. Choose different locations. You’ll learn in time what your body needs most.”

He ran his hand through his hair and yelled, “This is all a fucking nightmare! And it’s all your fault!”

“Yes, it is,” she agreed reaching through to touch his slender shoulder. “This storm will pass though. You’re young. You’re strong. You’ve matured since the start of the year. With a bit of luck, your life can continue as normal for many years yet.”

The touch of her cool hand was comforting. While it rested on his shoulder, he felt an energy from her easing into his blood. With each breath, he felt his anger abate.

“When will I see you again?”

“Soon,” she replied evasively. “If I leave a pebble for you, meet me that night at dusk by the tree.”

“And if I can’t make it?”

“I’ll come for you,” she said bluntly. “Regardless of where you are. Now, I need to depart.”

 

Next morning, the area was littered with storm debris. Wheelie bins and tree limbs were scattered around the village and surrounding areas. As he was preparing to leave for work, his wife asked if he would drop the kids off at school first.

“Right, you two, out to the car,” he called as he drained the last of his coffee. “We’re leaving now.”

With the kids safely buckled in, he started the engine and pulled away from the kerb.

“Dad,” said his daughter. “Where did this feather come from? It’s pretty. Can I have it?”

Glancing in the rear view mirror, he saw that his little girl had one of the dark angel’s long wing feathers in her hand.

 

 

image sourced via Google- credits to the owner

 

 

Silently Watching on the Blessing Moon- seven days later….

 

dark angel

Exactly one week later, he entered the graveyard as the sun began to set and took a seat on the bench. He had feigned a headache as the excuse to go for a walk and now felt slightly guilty for lying to his unsuspecting wife.
Subconsciously, his hand went to his jeans pocket and fingered the green velvet bag containing the three crystals. He had slipped easily into the habit of handling them whenever he felt something was “different”.
The dark angel had been right about one thing. He had slept soundly and dreamlessly the night following his transformation. In fact, he had slept right through his alarm and had almost been late for work. That morning he had noticed the first change in himself. Having had a hurried shower, he had gone to put his contact lenses in before getting dressed. Following his usual routine, he had settled the squishy discs into place. Immediately the world about him went fuzzy. Assuming that he had put them in the wrong eyes, he switched them over and the bathroom blurred even further out of focus. Somewhat confused, he had removed them and put them back in their plastic case. The world around him came back into focus. For the first time in many years, he had 20/20 vision.
Over the next couple of days, he spotted a couple of subtle changes. At work, instead of reaching for the calculator for the necessary arithmetic calculations his role required, he was doing them mentally with ease. He also realised, during a meeting with his boss, that he could read her mind. Despite what she had written on the appraisal document lying on the desk between them, he “heard” her true thoughts and had to bite his tongue to stop himself from commenting to her. The same thing had happened with two colleagues later the same day. At home that evening, he did discover that this new skill had its advantages as his young daughter tried to plead her innocence as to how the TV remote had been broken.
Mid-week, he had gone for a run to try to clear his mind and make sense of it all. As he ran, he found a new turn of both speed and stamina, not dissimilar to how he had felt after the angel had attempted to bite him. Another definite plus point to his new-found self.
One thing that scared him was the thought of sprouting wings. He became almost paranoid about taking the small measure of the mugwort tincture. Fearing that his family would discover it, he had stashed it behind a loose brick in the garage then used the excuse of stepping outside for a smoke to slip into the garage to take the daily dose. He had brought the small jar with him. After seven days, it was almost empty and his paranoia about wings sprouting overnight was growing rapidly.
To the best of his knowledge, his nearest and dearest hadn’t detected any changes in him and for that he was thankful.

A subtle movement in the air behind where he sat caught his attention. Turning round, he wasn’t surprised to see the angel standing in the shadows.
Another thought immediately struck him – no pain in his tooth and no throbbing at his neck. Putting his fingers on the spot on his neck, he smiled when they came away clean. No blood.
“Good evening,” said the angel as she came to sit beside him on the wooden bench. “You are well?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Good actually,” he replied. “You?”
“Restored,” she said cryptically before smiling and revealing both her sharp fangs.
“It grew back,” commented the runner.
“It did. The moment your transformation took place. Have you noticed any changes?”
“No toothache or blood running down my neck when you arrived,” he said with a grin.
“And apart from that?”
“A few subtle changes. Not as much as I had worried about,” he answered then added, “And food still tastes the same. I’m not craving raw meat!”
The dark angel laughed, “You’ve watched too many vampire films. It’s not all about a craving for blood and meat, son of Perran. Some experience cravings for different things.”
“Like what?”
“Sex.”
Eyes wide, he almost choked before looking away to hide his embarrassment.
“Your transformation was only partial,” she continued. “So, you might not experience any unusual desires for years or even centuries.”
“I’ll bear it in mind,” he mumbled, conscious that his cheeks had flushed scarlet.
“Before I forget,” said the angel, reaching into the inside pocket of her cloak. “Your mugwort tea.”
She handed him another glass jar, a slightly larger one, and a piece of paper.
“This is the instructions for how to prepare it and on where to find the mugwort. You’ll spot it easily. You run past several patches of it on your trails.”
“I do?”
“You do,” she echoed with a hint of exasperation. “I’ve drawn a picture of the plant. There is a large patch of it ten paces east of the oak tree at the end of your trail.”
“I’ll find it,” he promised as he read over the instructions. Her handwriting was beautiful, he noted, and closely resembled Gothic script.
“And you need to drink this,” she ordered as she handed him a slender pewter hip flask. “I will leave this once a week on this day in the hollow of the tree to our left.”
“What is it?” he asked, already pretty sure of the answer.
“Blood.”
“Whose?”
“Does it matter?” she quizzed. “You need it to thrive, son of Perran. Drink!”
Without argument, he drank the flask dry, surprised to find the blood was still warm but with a tangy taste to it this time round.
“Once a week. Don’t forget,” she cautioned as he handed the flask back to her.
“And if I miss a week or am late?”
“Don’t,” she stated. “The desire to kill will mount quickly. You may not be able to control it.”
Slowly, he nodded, recalling her previous warning about the possibility that he could harm his children.
“Do you have any questions for me before we part?”
“I don’t know,” he confessed quietly. “It all feels a bit different. It all feels good. A bit different. Nothing major. I guess it’s too soon to say.”
The dark angel nodded, understanding and remembering the “newness” of those early post transformation days.
“Let’s keep this simple. Live your life. Enjoy your life. Drink your mugwort. Drink your blood ration. If you need me, use the white pebble code we agreed on and I’ll find you. Otherwise, I’ll leave you be for now.”
“When will I see you again?” he asked, realising she was about to leave.
Getting to her feet, the angel said, “When the time is right.”
“Are we talking days? Weeks? Months?”
“When the time is right,” she repeated.
In the blink of an eye, she was gone. All that remained was a small black feather with a bright purple tip. On impulse, he picked it up and slipped it into the green velvet bag with the gemstones.