The Bride and Her Bloodlust

The winter was cold this year. The air was frozen and bitter and the wind carried a low moan with it. No snow came but frost was everywhere. It turned the grass white and caused the stone steps to become nothing more than death traps. While most of my fellow slaves hated this winter, I loved it. With the longer nights and colder skies, I could remain awake for longer periods of time.

I had come outside to sweep away the dead leaves that were clogging up paths and, as usual, I had made my way through the rose maze. Absentmindedly, I wondered through and, before I knew it, I found myself before a grave. With empty eyes, I stared down at the tomb. The flowers I had placed there last were brown and rotted, just like the corpse within.

Arnold. My dear friend. He had died trying to protect me and keep the young master safe. Years ago I had decided he had died before his head was ripped off, giving him the passage to his next life. My hope was still there but it was dwindling. Twenty seven years had passed and he had yet to reappear in my life. I had three more left before I will be forced to accept his true death.

I remained there, staring at the stone with Arnold’s name etched into the cold surface, holding the broom tightly, for a long time. Nothing disturbed me until I had decided it was time to return to work. Just as my I was getting my body to move, I heard tiny footsteps.

I turned slowly and continued to frown as a small boy came pelting down the path. As soon as he saw me, the blond haired boy waved at me and came charging at me.

“Aunt Susan!” He whispered loudly as he clasped at my white apron. “Don’t tell mama you saw me.”

I only grunted as he giggled and ran to the thin hedge, burying himself inside. I blinked slowly at the strange child before my head snapped back at the sound of a call drifting in the air.

“James! James where are you?” A weary voice called.

I didn’t move as I heard the new footsteps and cry. I knew who it was and she quickly came marching down the path. Ella, now older with wiser eyes and paler hair, smiled at me in relief.

“Susan, thank god.” She said heavily as she tried to get her breath back. “Have you seen James? He’s avoiding bedtime again.”

Without a word, I raised my hand and pointed at the bush where James had hidden himself. Instantly there was a disappointed huff and James hopped out.

“You’re not fun at all, Aunt Susan.” He said sulkily.

“I am not meant to be fun.” I responded bluntly. “Now go with your mother and stop causing problems.”

James scowled then hissed at me, baring his tiny teeth. Annoyance flared instantly and my own fangs grew. Scowling at him darkly, I growled threateningly. With a look of regret and fear, he ducked his head and quickly darted over to his mother.

“You should know not to challenge her.” Ella said, laughing. “Now will you go to bed peacefully?”

“I will.” He promised in defeat.

“Good. Now come on. You won’t be getting any milk if you keep dawdling.” She said, pushing him ahead of her. She turned and smiled her thanks before she left me beside Arnold’s grave.

Ella was still human. Unlike myself, she had the option to accept becoming a Black Blood. She had refused. The slaughter of her childhood sweetheart and the monster who did it still haunted her dreams. She didn’t want to the chance of ever becoming a parasite. So she had remained human.

The young Master hadn’t minded. She bore him a child, the first Red Blood in the long line of Blue, and grew old quietly. Alphonse hadn’t said anything but I could see the worry in his eyes. He could see her growing frail and I knew he feared the day she would die. She was so weak compared to him, so easily killed and lived so briefly. But that day wouldn’t come for a long time, I hoped. Ella was only in her forties. She had many years ahead of her.

I picked up the dead flowers and dusted away some of the twigs and rotten leaves covering the grave. With one last look, I turned and headed back to the house.

Things had changed since Ella first turned up nearly thirty years ago. Mo was now head maid, wrinkly and grouchy. Sal had sadly died to sickness five years ago. Numerous servants and been and gone. Some by death, others by a reshuffling of staff among the Branches. One good thing remained though. Morrigan was dead. She had been burned and her ashes scattered in the gardens after I hacked her head off.

I still remembered that fight, how terrified I had been. I had wondered to myself many times how I had managed to kill her. I knew my Matter pool was larger than any other witch and I was backed up by my Black Blood nature but that shouldn’t have been enough for me to kill her. Not her. Part of me wondered if she wanted to die. She had hated me, she has left scars on my face, but something in that fight made me wonder if she wanted me to kill her. She wanted to die but wanted someone else to give her her death.

I had often thought this but never voiced it to either the Master or Alphonse. Both, while found Morrigan a vile and horrific creature, still loved her as their mother and sire. Her death was a blow to the whole Clan as well as a relief. As a result, I was both hated and loved by the older members.

I hopped up the steps and gave the broom to the first servant I found. I ignored the bow she gave me as I sought out the Master’s study. The door shut quietly behind me as I entered it. It was silent in here. Normally the Master would be in here, playing music as he either worked or brooded. But the Master was away at the moment. The usual summoning the Clan Heads was underway in the Domain. The young Master was now in charge but he never came in here.

I quietly went over to the fire and restocked it with wood. After a couple of attempts, I got a fire burning. I looked down at the dead flowers a still held, pondering to myself if Arnold would ever come back to me, before I threw it on the flames.

I watched the flowers curl up from the heat and slowly blacken before I stood and plonked myself in the Master’s chair.

He had only been away for a few days so far and I was already beginning to hate him more. I felt the need to hear him, to touch him, to see him. I wasn’t going to admit it but I was missing him. I wanted him home and with me again. I wasn’t fond of waking up alone in that massive bed of his.

I leaned back and stared at the wall opposite. I was feeling quite put out and mellow today. Sad thoughts seemed to be invading my mind. Sad memories kept popping up. I wondered if it was because it was Arnold’s death anniversary today. That was probably it.

Not feeling any inclination to do the housework I was always so keen to do, I remained alone in the darkness, thinking of what had been and the lack of the Master.

Half asleep, I looked up sharply, waking, when the door opened. Who had entered took a startled intake before they turned the light on dimly. I recognised the scent before I saw the face. It was the young Master, Alphonse. The Master’s nephew. The son of his long dead brother, Dunstan.

“I didn’t realise you were here, Susan.” Alphonse said.

“Evidently not.” I replied. “What is it you’re after?”

He shrugged lightly. “Not much. I just wanted to sit in here.” He replied and sat heavily in the leather sofa beside the fire. He sighed and his shoulders sagged. It was then I realised I wasn’t the only one in a mellow mood.

“Did James go to bed?”

Al laughed a little. “He did but only after he got a story.” He smile remained but weakened. “Ella’s gone to bed now. She can’t keep up with him now he’s bigger. He has more energy than any human child would have. He’s stronger too.”

“I imagine having any kind of child would be exhausting. She’s doing a good job raising him.”

Al only nodded. I watched him some more and only when it was obvious he wasn’t going to talk to me on his own did I speak.

“What is it, young Master?” I asked as I swung the chair slightly from side to side with my eyes completely fixed on him.

“Arnold and Morrigan died twenty seven years ago today.” He said simply.

My face remained impassive. Like me, Alphonse carried physical scars. The skin on his chest was completely marred and destroyed. His neck held thin crooked lines and his arms were littered in gouges. He never took off his shirt anymore in front of others because of it. And his own grandmother had done it to him. All because he was in love with Ella, a human girl. Morrigan had torn him to pieces, nearly killing him, because her line was threatened with impurity. It was Morrigan’s murderous and violent nature that made me never regret what I did to her.

“It’s my fault he died.”

An annoyed frown now took over my blank expression. “Alphonse.”

“I did. I got him killed.”

“No you didn’t.” I snapped, hissing softly. “Morrigan got Arnold killed. She’s the one who tore open his chest and hacked his head off.”

Alphonse remained quiet and pressed a fist to his mouth. I stood sharply and sat heavily beside him. I stared at him, my eyes glaring and my fangs bared.

“You never killed Arnold. How many times must I tell you this?”

“He died protecting me.”

“And if he hadn’t, you would be dead. I would also be very dead.” I replied sharply. “And Arnold is still alive, remember. We’re waiting for him to come back to us.”

“You are, Susan.” He said heavily and sadly. “The rest of us know he isn’t coming back.”

I scowled at him but said nothing. He was right. I was the only one who held out hope Arnold had entered into his final life and not his true death. I was clinging to the fact he appeared to have died before Morrigan hacked his head off. It meant he could live again, be reborn among Man until he was ready to awaken. I didn’t care that it should’ve happened by now. I was still hoping.

“Either way you are not to blame. He died to protect you. He did what he had always done. Don’t take away that one last act of his and decide he shouldn’t have the one last moment of kindness.” I snapped, a little irked by his lack of hope.

He nodded and he patted my knee. “Thank you for what you did, Susan.”

I nodded stiffly. He had thanked me many times over the years. He didn’t seem to be able to say it enough. But Alphonse was affected by Morrigan’s manipulative behaviour, even now. He was born through an enforced mating. His mother was murdered and his father and his lover were driven to suicide, an act performed through Lucius. All the while, he tried to keep his baby half-sister safe until the Master got her away. He’d never seen her since. Alphonse had been quite happy and overly boisterous until Morrigan nearly murdered him too. Since then, he had settled down and sought to raise James as best as he could, trying to shield him from the horrors that had happened before he was born.

Without a word, Alphonse got up and wondered out of the room. Whatever he sought he obviously got. I was left alone again.

With a sigh, I flopped back. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Cleaning didn’t appeal to me and I wasn’t bothered to roam about the grounds. I didn’t have James to scare nor did I have the Master to tease. I was bored.

The boredom though was soon to vanish and never appear again though. With my Master’s return, a shadow would fall over this old sad house and cold, heartless eyes would set themselves onto James.