She wasn’t alone in the dark. They were there. They were all there. Hundreds of them. Their small voices whispered her name. But was that really her name? Or was it someone else’s? It didn’t matter – she knew they were referring to her; incanting her name, some in wonder and awe and reverie, others in spiteful fear. After all, she was their mother – their progenitor.
Midnight. She was sprawled on a large throne made of gold, ornamented with countless priceless gems, and upholstered with the finest velvet. The voices were still with her, but now they had faces. Some were beautiful beyond comprehension; others were uglier than anything had the right to be.
At the front of the crowd were three beautiful people. She knew them. She knew them well. The crowd silently revered them like deities. The one in the centre was a simple yellow-haired farm girl who loved chasing rabbits dressed in quietly expensive clothes. Right of the farm girl was a shorter girl, with darker yellow hair and paler skin – her whole being was wreathed in shadow. The last of the three was the tallest and lankiest with hair the colour of the noon sky. This one was heavily armoured.
“Druscilla, it’s been so long since you left us…” they said in unison. “Did we scare you away?”
“Nonsense – I just needed a nap, is all.”
“We did just as you asked. Things went according to your grand designs.”
“Then why aren’t you happy?”
“You made me into a monster.” The farm girl said, crying tears of blood.
“Your curse killed my beloved.” The shadow girl said, crying tears of darkness.
“Your curse killed my brother.” The soldier girl said, crying tears of metal.
Druscilla didn’t want them to cry. They were her progeny. She loved them. “Please, I beg, stop crying. Think of all that I gave you.”
“It’s not enough.” Unison again.
“Will it ever be enough?”
“That’s up to you to decide.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do we.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“That’s for you to find out.”
“How do I do that?”
“We don’t know. We’ll leave you to figure it out – like you always do.”
“Wait! I might forget your faces.”
“You won’t do that, will you? We’re the First Generation, one step removed from Genesis.”
“Who is Genesis?”
“You are.”
“I am.”
And Druscilla was spinning and spinning until. An inky liquid was seeping from the pores on her skin. It flooded the room and enveloped everything. Suddenly she was alone in the darkness again. And it was comfortable.
Gentle nudging brought Druscilla back from her comfortable darkness. Too soon, it’s always too soon.
“How are you feeling?” Penelope asked. “It’s been a week – just as you requested.”
Druscilla had been half-joking when she had told Pen to wake her up in a week. Still, she didn’t feel satisfied with sleep. Something is happening with me; something is changing. Perhaps her body ran on some kind of clock that she was yet ignorant of its mechanism. “Has anything noteworthy happened?” she asked, still dormant on her bed of fur.
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“No, the siege of Fineby is still ongoing. Gwen tried to negotiate a surrender, but they chased her away in a hail of arrows.”
“Is she okay?”
“She is unharmed. There were no other casualties.”
“Oh, good.”
“The men are in the middle of building those big catapults…”
“You mean trebuchets?”
“Yes, those.” Pen stood up from her little stool beside Druscilla. “So, are you going to wake up? The suns are almost down, and your absence will get harder and harder to ignore. Gwen and I have been covering for you as you said.”
Druscilla sat up. The memories of her dream melting away like water between her fingers. “Penelope, something has to change.”
“Huh? I don’t get your meaning.”
“What are we doing here? What am I doing here? Don’t you feel like this is all overblown and we’re going nowhere?”
The confusion on Pen’s face changed to concern. “What do you mean? You planned all of this – and everything’s happening as expected. Are you sure you are feeling okay?”
“I feel like I have been ignoring who I am. What I am.”
“Dru, you’re making me worried.”
When was the last time she called me Dru? “I feel like I have inflated my self-worth. I’ve been trying to keep my actions covert, trying to be a puppet master in shadow – and in doing so lost sight of my condition. Penelope, I seem to have forgotten that you and I, are Vampires.”
“That we are, but how does that change things? Are you going to abandon Gwen and her cause?”
“Oh no, I fully intend to seat Gwendolyne on that pretty golden chair.”
“You have a strange look in your eye.”
“I think I’ve known what I want.”
“To put Gwen on the throne to secure a prosperous future for all?”
Druscilla chuckled lightly. “Well, technically, yes.” All this time she had been working for her own self. That was why she never felt fulfilled. “On Gwen’s shoulders, I want to erect a Paradise of the Night. For you, Dixie and all who come after.”
“I’m not even sure what that means.”
“Don’t worry, leave that to me. Now, however,” Druscilla stood up and stretched her undead limbs out of an old habit. “I need your help. Go get dressed and geared up. Then fetch Whitestone’s lapdog of a Marshal.”
“Is something happening? The siege is supposed to last at least one more month…”
“Change of plan, Pen. Fineby falls to two Vampires tonight.”
----------------------------------------
“Are those, teeth?”
Beatrice was prying the charred lips apart. She was the one brave enough to touch the mass of burned flesh. “It seems so. It was a human once.”
Her brother, Sean, made a face. “Why are you calling them ‘it’. They used to be a living breathing person, just like you and me.”
“Nope. Look, it’s all burned up, but the grass around it is unscathed.” Besides the blackened corpse, the clearing was rather idyllic in the starlight.
“Wait, so what burned it?”
“The suns you dummy. It was an undead.”
“An undead? Really? But necromancy is forbidden!”
“Oh, you don’t say.” It wasn’t surprising that the Usurper had necromancers in her ranks.
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“Me? I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing, your Scholarly Grace.”
“Now you’re just being obnoxious.”
Their father always used to call Beatrice obnoxious. It was the biggest word he knew – and Sean had picked up on it. “Whatever, it’s past sunset now. We should get back to town. Probably for the best if we never saw anything here...”
They hefted the sacks of apples they had onto their back and walked back to Fineby. Beatrice had one sack and her brother had three. They were smugglers – a profession inherited from their father. Usually they smuggled the dark leaves that clouded people’s minds and numbed pain – very illicit cargo. But since the siege began the price of the simple apple shot to the sky.
“I’ll race you there,” Beatrice said as she picked up speed. “Eat my dust.”
“Oh no, you don’t!”
They had done this before. Several times – since they started doing the hidden routes. If he wanted, Sean could leave his sister huffing and puffing leagues behind him. Yet each time he let her win. That’s just how things went.
“Wait, Bea, hold on.”
“Something wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to talk, about serious stuff.”
“Careful not to hurt your brain, Sean.”
“Ha ha, very funny. I’m being serious.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I’ve been thinking we should leave.”
“Why? We’re perfectly fine as is.”
“We’ve just lived in Fineby for such a long time. I- uh…what’s the word..riko…”
“You reckon.”
“I reckon it’s time for a change. Let’s go see the big world.”
“Eh, I don’t see why not. It’s not like we have any roots since- you know.”
“Yeah.” Sean was smiling ear to ear. “Whew, I thought it would be hard convincing you.”
“You would be so lost without me.”
“I’m not complaining or nothing – maybe I can even help go into that University place mother was talking about.”
Their mother had been a scribe who had settled for an illiterate bum off the street. Beatrice seemed set on doing the same but she really was in no rush. “It takes more than basic literacy to get into the University. Besides, what would you do in the meantime?”
“Work my ass off paying for everything.”
“That so…”
“Let’s just sell these then we’re out.”
“I was getting weary of sticking my neck out like this.” Truth was, there was no other alternative, unless… “Hey Sean, maybe I can be a courtesan if we go to the Capital…”
“Bea, you’ve got a horse’s face.”
Beatrice stuck her tongue out. “You’re just jealous I’m the prettier twin.” Sean stopped dead in his tracks. “What is it??” Bea whispered, alarmed at Sean’s change in demeanour.
“Look, at their camp.” They were on a ridge overlooking Fineby and the siege camps around it.
“Their torches are off. Is something happening?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look, they’ve formed ranks, they’re about to try something…”
The twins shared a concerned look. “We have to get mother.”