walked out the door.
"Well, well, now. Call of nature I suspect."
* * * * *
Cameo walked a few steps out into the snow. There were footsteps going in every direction from the front door, people moving to their horses, others straight back to the road, footsteps that led to the smokehouse or a tree. And then she noticed to her left a drop of blood on the snow, and she began to walk to the left, around the side of the tavern, in shadow. There she followed footprints around the side of the structure and turned around the building, where there was a woodpile. For a moment she stopped and gazed out beyond the tavern into an open yard, likely used for a small garden in summer. She wasn't certain where she expected to find the other fop. There was nothing but forest all around this place, and Jody could've dumped the body anywhere, but then an odd sound caught her attention: a painful intake of air, a low, muted gasp for breath.
She strode purposefully over to the woodpile and knocked most of the timber out of her way, successfully toppling the entire pile.
The young man lay at the bottom of the wood. He was alive.
"You found me!" he smiled, his voice was exuberant, though little more than a whisper.
Cameo glanced down at the blood-stained shirt. He had taken a strike through the ribs, but it didn't appear fatal. She met his eyes.
"Damn that Jody Fitzrory," he breathed. "All this over a horse!"
As she stood there staring down at the young man, she realized that she longed to taste his blood.
"How ever did you find me, dear lady?"
She could smell the blood oozing from the wound, and for a moment she caught the familiar sensation of Edel's presence. Though she couldn't explain it, she felt him there. The scent of his moldy jacket lingered in the air—decaying flowers and old death. It was as if he were standing right there with her, but she couldn't see him. For one moment Cameo spun 'round, quickly, at her zombie speed, too fast for this wounded lad to understand, though he said nothing.
Edel was not there—at least that's what her eyes were telling her. She couldn't see him. She hesitated, glancing down at the young man lying in the snow before her once more. He was pitiful, helpless, and his blood was dying the snow scarlet. As she gazed at the young man, an unfathomable idea formed in her. Am I a vampire? Is this what Edel's bite has done to me? The young man was just staring at her. Two blue eyes staring back at her.
She looked sadly at him. "I expected that you had died, young man."
"I would have frozen to death out here if not for you—"
She pulled her dagger from its sheath with unnatural speed and slit his throat before he was able to finish, and there he was laid out before her, dead.
He was a young man, Kyrian’s age, lying there before her, his throat now gaping, and blood gushing from the wound, staining the white lace.
Cameo licked his blood from her blade, and she then felt the humming sensation begin, the buzzing in her temples, and a light flutter in her stomach.
She saw a pair of black feet on the ground directly in front of her. She glanced up to find the cloudy form of a man—a ghost—watching her with an evil longing on his face. And then she felt Edel again. There was the clearest sensation of a hand on her arm, and in the wintry air she caught the feeling of him again. His calm. She could not see him, but she could feel him there. He hadn't died. Nor had he gone away. He was with her still.
She dared not speak his name. Dared not believe. She shook off the idea of Edel, and ignoring the pair of ghostly feet in the snow, she turned back to the dead young man, ripped open his shirt and pressed her mouth to drink from his wound.
* * * * *
"My dear?!"
"Don't shout."
Cameo rounded the corner of the tavern, her cloak spinning as she neared her companions. There seemed to be a spring in her step.
"We've been looking for you, my love—"
Their eyes widened.
Opal took a step toward
"Well, well, now. Call of nature I suspect."
* * * * *
Cameo walked a few steps out into the snow. There were footsteps going in every direction from the front door, people moving to their horses, others straight back to the road, footsteps that led to the smokehouse or a tree. And then she noticed to her left a drop of blood on the snow, and she began to walk to the left, around the side of the tavern, in shadow. There she followed footprints around the side of the structure and turned around the building, where there was a woodpile. For a moment she stopped and gazed out beyond the tavern into an open yard, likely used for a small garden in summer. She wasn't certain where she expected to find the other fop. There was nothing but forest all around this place, and Jody could've dumped the body anywhere, but then an odd sound caught her attention: a painful intake of air, a low, muted gasp for breath.
She strode purposefully over to the woodpile and knocked most of the timber out of her way, successfully toppling the entire pile.
The young man lay at the bottom of the wood. He was alive.
"You found me!" he smiled, his voice was exuberant, though little more than a whisper.
Cameo glanced down at the blood-stained shirt. He had taken a strike through the ribs, but it didn't appear fatal. She met his eyes.
"Damn that Jody Fitzrory," he breathed. "All this over a horse!"
As she stood there staring down at the young man, she realized that she longed to taste his blood.
"How ever did you find me, dear lady?"
She could smell the blood oozing from the wound, and for a moment she caught the familiar sensation of Edel's presence. Though she couldn't explain it, she felt him there. The scent of his moldy jacket lingered in the air—decaying flowers and old death. It was as if he were standing right there with her, but she couldn't see him. For one moment Cameo spun 'round, quickly, at her zombie speed, too fast for this wounded lad to understand, though he said nothing.
Edel was not there—at least that's what her eyes were telling her. She couldn't see him. She hesitated, glancing down at the young man lying in the snow before her once more. He was pitiful, helpless, and his blood was dying the snow scarlet. As she gazed at the young man, an unfathomable idea formed in her. Am I a vampire? Is this what Edel's bite has done to me? The young man was just staring at her. Two blue eyes staring back at her.
She looked sadly at him. "I expected that you had died, young man."
"I would have frozen to death out here if not for you—"
She pulled her dagger from its sheath with unnatural speed and slit his throat before he was able to finish, and there he was laid out before her, dead.
He was a young man, Kyrian’s age, lying there before her, his throat now gaping, and blood gushing from the wound, staining the white lace.
Cameo licked his blood from her blade, and she then felt the humming sensation begin, the buzzing in her temples, and a light flutter in her stomach.
She saw a pair of black feet on the ground directly in front of her. She glanced up to find the cloudy form of a man—a ghost—watching her with an evil longing on his face. And then she felt Edel again. There was the clearest sensation of a hand on her arm, and in the wintry air she caught the feeling of him again. His calm. She could not see him, but she could feel him there. He hadn't died. Nor had he gone away. He was with her still.
She dared not speak his name. Dared not believe. She shook off the idea of Edel, and ignoring the pair of ghostly feet in the snow, she turned back to the dead young man, ripped open his shirt and pressed her mouth to drink from his wound.
* * * * *
"My dear?!"
"Don't shout."
Cameo rounded the corner of the tavern, her cloak spinning as she neared her companions. There seemed to be a spring in her step.
"We've been looking for you, my love—"
Their eyes widened.
Opal took a step toward
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