“She looked so white, laying there. And it was so terribly wrong, because the one thing I always remembered were her rosy cheeks—pale pink with laughter and scarlet with fury. And her eyes were always so bright. I never knew what color they were. Grey and blue and green all at once. That terrifies me, that I’ll never be able to say ‘her eyes were green’ because I just can’t remember…When I found her, I didn’t say anything. The first thing I did was draw her, because I couldn’t forget. It was a terrible drawing but I couldn’t let myself forget. I needed something to keep…I’m fourteen and a man and I shouldn’t cry but Mummy is gone forever and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to care for Susan by myself.”
~From the diary of William Wells; August 10th, 1674
Elizabeth sat on the stairs, picking at flecks of dirt trapped under her fingernails. She studied William inconspicuously as he laid an array of weapons across the smooth oak dining table. He checked everything meticulously, making sure each piece was in working order, Elizabeth guessed. She recognized a cross bow, bo staff, crucifix, bottle of holy water, and several wooden stakes, their tips carefully sharpened to a fine point. His brows knitted in serious contemplation as he worked, almost as though he’d completely forgotten the young woman’s presence. Occasionally he sighed in aggravation if he seemed to discover something out of place, and more than once he raked his fingers through his dark curls impatiently. Watching him now as he prepared for battle, it was hard for Elizabeth to believe that she’d ever seen him smile. He certainly is puzzling. Usually she had a fairly good sense for people, her first impressions generally proving true. But with William…in every way he appeared to be a bad sort; gruff and rude, presumptuous and dangerous. Just yesterday she felt assured in her decision to hate him, but now…circumstances seemed increasingly complicated.
William threw on a coat made of cowhide over his white tunic, and he skillfully hid the stakes within its inside pockets. After placing a dagger through his belt loop, he slung his cloak over his shoulders and slid the crucifix and holy water into the large outside pockets. Tracing his fingers over the weapons that remained, he seemed to choose between the bo staff and crossbow. His hand finally settled on the crossbow, which he grabbed and hung from his left forearm. Snatching a hat from a hook beside the windowsill, he placed it over his hair, the brim sending his eyes into darkness. Outside the window, the last touch of pink sky slid behind the distant hills in the west, and shadows stretched across the floorboards of the cabin.
“Right then. I’ll be off,” he said shortly, not even looking in Elizabeth’s direction as he spoke to her, “There’s some bread and cheese in the sideboard there, if you get hungry. Sorry bout the lack of meats. Haven’t had a chance to hunt in a few days. I should be back ‘fore dawn. Just stay put, don’t open the door for any nasties, and you’ll be fine.”
“Take me with you,” she said, more of a declaration than a request, as she rose to her feet.
“No way in hell!” he exclaimed sharply, finally whirling around to face her.
“I just want to see…them. What it is you do. If I could see it, maybe it would be easier to believe. I promise I won’t get in the way.”
“Don’t much fancy company on the hunt, pet. And I really don’t feel like draggin’ your dead carcass back come morning after some demon gets a hold a ya.”
She raised her chin at his crass words. “I can look after myself.”
“Right,” he scoffed, “You’re stayin’ and that’s that. Don’t make me get the rope.”
“Oh I see. Back to the scary kidnapper act, are we?” she raised her voice and stepped toward him in as much of a challenge as she could muster.
She stood facing him; just a breath away, and despite her much smaller stature, she glared up defiantly.
“If you think you can fight me for it, princess, then be my guest. You’re not goin’ out that door.”
With the reemergence of that loathed nickname he seemed so fond of, she remembered why he deserved her disdain. She backed down, unsure of the sincerity in his threats, and returned to her perch on the stairs, lips pursed.
“Good girl. Remember, keep the door closed. See you in the morning.”
“How can you be sure that I won’t just leave here? Return home to Wethersfield.”
He hesitated briefly, his eyes flickering to the ground.
“With what’s out there? You’d never make it. I reckon you’d be the tenderest meat they’d ever tasted.”
For a moment, she detected a hint of insecurity in his cocky tone.
And with that, he vanished into the night. Elizabeth waited until the sound of his footfall dissipated, and then rushed to the window, watching after him. His shadow quickly disappeared beyond the trees and into the depths of the murky forest. The mare had been left behind, so she figured he must not be planning on traveling far tonight. She waited a few more minutes to make sure that he’d gone from the cabin’s view before throwing the former Slayer’s cloak about her shoulders and quietly slipping out the door.
--
The night seemed deeper here, if that was possible, so far from the glow of candles in windows. Boughs of trees groaned and creaked like bones as a mournful wind whistled through them. Something scurried over dead leaves, and Elizabeth startled at the sound, thinking of ghosts and demons and other dark, mystical creatures. Surely it was only a rabbit, or maybe a fox. I’ve heard such things before. None have brought harm to me. The cold wrapped around her body like a blanket; it was a harsh, bitter chill she’d never felt before. If this was fall, she wished to never see a New England winter.
She continued wandering through the trees, unsure of her destination and beginning to question her original purpose in following him. In the darkness, the forest path was lost to her, William nowhere to be found. The roof of the woods seemed to close in like swampy water over her head, and she held her arms in front of her to ward off…she knew not what. A flash of the vampire’s horrifying face raced through her mind, and a wave of sudden, nauseating terror seized her at the thought of being trapped in the shadows with that. Elizabeth realized too late that she really wasn’t made for fighting—or, in her case, lurking near—evil and wished hopelessly that she’d just swallowed her pride and remained in the cabin.
The sound of scurrying feet returned, this time echoing all around her. She froze. It no longer sounded like a familiar small animal. Perhaps it was simply her own fearful imagination getting the better of her, but the source of the noise definitely seemed larger, heavier, and more powerful. Just ahead at an indiscernible distance, a strange blue glow emanated from two small pin pricks, which hastily darted into the underbrush in tandem and disappeared. Elizabeth blinked dumbly. Rabbit’s eyes. Rabbit’s eyes could appear blue in this dim, silver moonlight. Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she turned and began walking back the way she’d come. The problem with tracking her steps backward, however, was that she’d already wandered so far from the main path that she was now unable to find her way back to it in pitch darkness. Looking to the stars for cardinal directions proved impossible due to the canopy of gnarled branches. A sliver of moonshine just barely showed behind a wisp of cloud, but it wasn’t enough to lead her out of the maze of trees.
Somewhere in these same woods, William hunted, probably killing all sorts of wretched things. If she called out to him, there was a high probability that he’d hear. She’d have to deal with his temper, of course, but at least he could lead her out of the forest. Or perhaps…if she somehow found her own way, she might be able to make it back to Wethersfield by morning. They’re not coming for me. It’s been a day; they should have made it in a day. They’ve given up or…I was not meant to be found. This could be my only chance to escape. I can rely on no person but myself now. Shockingly, Elizabeth found herself hesitating at the opportunity. Did she really want to go back to that town, back to existing only as the Reverend’s niece and Riley Finn’s betrothed after tasting a bit of freedom at the hands of a kidnapper? She stood, pondering her conundrum, when she felt a powerful grip seize her ankles at once.
Without warning, a tidal force pulled her legs from beneath her body, sending Elizabeth flying onto her back. Overcome by shock, confusion, and not least of all, terror, she scrambled about wildly on the earth in an attempt to escape her unseen attacker. Before she could run, it was on her in a flash; and she found herself staring up into a pair of blank, ghastly eyes, lit by an otherworldly blue light. The face itself she would describe later as having a toad-like quality, because no other image could quite compare to it. Its skin was slick and dark and bumpy in patches like that of an aquatic creature. The body stood squat, small and heavy, but it possessed the strength of a dozen men. A twittering chatter emanated from where its mouth should be. Two slimy hands wrapped around Elizabeth’s throat while a long, thin tongue began to unfurl from the mouth-like aperture. Finally she woke from the paralyzing fright at seeing the thing and began to scream with all her might. At this point, William was her only hope.
“Help me! Help me please! Get it off! William!” she cried out to the darkness, her screams slowly fading into garbled nonsense.
The creature’s grip closed tightly on her neck, causing her to choke and sputter. So this is it. I’m dying, and the last thing I’ll ever see is a giant toad. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and tried to remember what home looked like so that her final thought in this life would be one of peace. The crest of the waves at low tide, reflecting the setting sun…
“Bugger off, you slimy git!” a voice hollered from the darkness above.
Elizabeth felt light-headed and only dimly registered that the creature’s weight had been thrown from her body, freeing her breath at last. She rose to her feet slowly and shakily to see William, dagger in hand, land a swift spin kick in the thing’s torso. The creature let out a cringe-worthy squeal as it flew through the air.
“Yeah how do you like that, mate?” William laughed.
He strode over to where the creature lay like a dying insect, legs dangling above its body, and raised the dagger in his left hand. But before he inflicted the death blow, the toadish entity sprang to its feet and grabbed onto William’s legs as it had done previously. Losing his balance, the dagger flew from his grasp and landed in the underbrush near Elizabeth’s feet.
“Aright now I’m pissed,” he seethed as the thing pinned him to the ground.
Quickly Elizabeth grabbed the knife and crept over to where William wrestled with the creature. After it failed to choke him, it raised one of its hands while sharp talons extended from its fingers; and it scratched and clawed at William’s skin, drawing his blood in thick lines. Elizabeth held the dagger in trembling hands, and then without pausing to think, swiftly plunged the blade into the creature’s neck. She stabbed its body again and again until the thing finished writhing and squealing and simply lay prostrate on the ground, its purple blood seeping into the earth.
She just stood there for a long moment, out of breath and utterly spent. The dagger, heavy and awkward in her small hands, soon fell from her limp fingers. William grabbed it by the hilt, replaced the weapon in his belt loop, and jumped to his feet. He brushed himself off and winced.
“You hurt?” he asked coldly.
“I’m fine.”
“God damn it!” he spat, “I bloody well told you not to open the door, you stupid chit.”
“This ‘stupid chit’ just saved your life. Well, after you saved mine, but it still counts.”
“You didn’t save my life. Probably nearly got me killed! A distraction’s what you are.”
“Oh I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, though I believe it was you that brought me up here in the first place; you forced me to leave my home.”
“That’s cause you were spyin’ on me in the shagging woods!” he shouted.
Elizabeth opened her mouth for an equally vociferous retort, but when her eyes accidentally fell upon the demon’s remains, the returning shock silenced her.
“What is that?” Elizabeth asked, staring at the creature’s corpse with glazed eyes, “It doesn’t look like a—like one of those vampires.”
“Namreg demon. They’re amphibians, attracted to the pond. I been trackin’ a clan of ‘em—only this one got away. They always migrate in packs.”
“A demon?! When you said that before, I just thought you were speaking metaphorically. And I was not spying on you! You were fighting outside my house in the middle of the night…loudly!”
He sneered, raising both hands up in surrender. “Know what, princess? I’m done bein’ your keeper. Walk back to bloody Wethersfield for all I care if you’re so desperate to get back to livin’ the lie.”
He stormed past her in the opposite direction, toward the cabin, Elizabeth assumed. She ran after him, taking several steps in between his longer stride.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not you. You don’t belong there…with them,” his voice sounded kinder, though his hostile physicality belied the softer words.
“Then tell me where I belong, William. You’re so wise, clearly you know everything.”
He stiffened at the sound of his Christian name. “I jus’ meant that you…”
He stopped walking then and gripped his shoulder with a sharp intake of breath and nearly doubled over, evidently no longer able to mask the pain. Elizabeth dropped her hands from her hips and hurried to his side, grabbing his forearm to keep him from sinking to the ground. Swatting at her touch absently, he tried unsuccessfully to push her away.
“I’m fine! Go back or don’t, jus’ let me be. Tell ‘em to hang me if you want, I really don’ care anymore.”
“You look ashen. Let me see your shoulder,” she said, prying his hand away.
Underneath his cloak and jacket, the white tunic was soaked in blood.
“Dear god,” she murmured.
“It’s a soddin’ scratch! Not like it doesn’t happen every night.”
“It looks like that demon, or some other one, hurt you pretty badly. We’re going back to the cabin, and you’re showing me the way. Come on.”
She hooked her elbow through his; and reluctantly, he allowed her to support some of his weight. He grumbled to himself all the way.
--
“Oi, watch it! You tryin’ to sear my skin off, or what?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh, blowing an errant strand of blonde hair away from her forehead.
“Oh honestly, you spend your nights fist-fighting with the spawn of Satan, and you’re unable to handle a little sting?” she mocked as she continued pouring the contents of the silver flask over his shoulder.
“Well it hurts,” he mumbled, “Gimme a swig, will ya?”
William sagged in the rocking chair while Elizabeth hovered over him in an attempt to tend his injuries with what meager supplies were available. All she’d managed to scrounge together was a basin of water, pieces of cheesecloth, and remnants of a hidden stash of whiskey.
“Fine, but don’t take much. It’s all that’s left, and we need it for disinfectant.”
He snatched the flask out of her hand and relished in a long gulp of hot amber liquid, grimacing slightly as he swallowed. Wiping his mouth with the back of his good hand, he craned his neck back to throw Elizabeth a devious grin.
“Care for a sip, sweetheart?”
“No, thank you,” she replied tersely, attempting to cover a smile. There was something about the boyish sparkle in those eyes…
After cleaning the deep laceration on top of his shoulder, she pressed the cheesecloth against the wound to soak up the blood. She noticed several deep scratches, probably a result of the creature’s splayed claws, which began at the site of the shoulder wound and disappeared under the filthy white tunic. He should remove the garment before all the dirt and grime had a chance to cause infection to his injuries, but Elizabeth hesitated to suggest. It would certainly be improper with me present, but…he would have difficulty tending such wounds himself. She chewed her bottom lip nervously.
“You look rattled. There a problem?” he asked, eyeing her with a cocked brow.
She startled, realizing that she’d stood frozen for quite a while, her hand grasping the dripping cloth in mid air.
“Nothing—“ she answered a bit too quickly, “I mean, no. Could you—if it wouldn’t be too—could you take this off?”
He regarded her with amusement, shrugged, and loosened the strings at his collar before carefully pulling the tunic over his head. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt a flush rapidly spreading from her neck to her cheeks. Granted, she’d never looked on a half-nude man so closely, but his body appeared to be shaped like Greek statues she’d seen painted in books. Lean, defined muscle sculpted his torso with an exquisite perfection that Elizabeth had previously believed only existed in fine art. With a gulp, she dipped a clean cloth into the water basin and began to wash away the blood, dirt, and sweat from his pale flesh.
Her fingers swept delicately behind his shoulders, down his spine, and maybe lingered longer than they should have across his taut lower back, all the while gently mindful of scrapes and bruises. Toned, skillfully trained muscles rippled beneath his skin as he flinched in response to the cloth brushing over tender injuries. When her nails accidentally scratched across his spine, she felt him shiver beneath her touch, sucking in his breath. Traces of old wounds were visible under the fresh ones, memories of beatings received over the years, losses and victories—they all looked the same now. Unconsciously she traced a thin, white scar that traveled from his shoulder blade to the center of his back.
“How did this happen…another demon?” she murmured softly, astonished by her own curiosity, confused at the tender impulse that compelled her to speak
He remained silent for a moment, but when he answered his voice was soft and thick, the edge having disappeared. “That’d be Susan, actually. She gave it me good that day… Rupert was teachin’ her to fence all good and proper, and you know, she was just my kid sister, so I thought I’d volunteer to spar. Bloody terrible idea that was! Her blade clipped me straight through the jacket. I didn’t tell her, though.”
“And this one?” Elizabeth asked, her voice just above a whisper as her fingers moved to a puckered, pink scar at his left side.
William snorted. “Stabbed in a pub brawl when I was fourteen. God I was such a little pratt back then. Almost cost me my life.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said, her tone full of awe and sympathy, “I don’t know how you can live through so much violence every day. So much pain.”
“Seems odd, but in a way it makes me feel more alive…Sometimes it’s the only thing that does. My blood’s real. It’s one thing I can count on.”
He released a small, uncomfortable chuckle as though he’d said something he shouldn’t. “I’ll take a good brawl any day,” he quipped lightly.
Once she’d deemed him sufficiently clean, she circled around the chair to stand before him. Brilliant blue eyes met hers, though they looked darker than they had a moment ago. She waited for a sharp comment, for him to insist that she stop fussing over him, but he simply watched her with a sleepy, heavy-lidded gaze. Elizabeth’s heart banged so forcefully against her rib cage, she felt sure that he could hear it. The air in the room seemed heavier, and she became trapped in a mysteriously pleasant, dizzied haze. I should stop this—leave him—leave this place, but she felt inexplicably drawn to this man despite common rules of propriety and her own better judgment. Her breath came more deeply, and with it she recognized a want, a desire, a need that she’d never known; never even pondered or imagined. It was a sensation that she couldn’t explain or understand; though her instincts told her it was wrong.
He licked his lips and swallowed as he seemed to search her eyes for an unknown answer. Elizabeth dropped her chin. His gaze was too intense, too powerful, causing her to fear that he could see everything.
William cleared his throat, “Right then. Thank you for uh…patchin’ me up. I guess I’ll head upstairs to get some sleep…So, erm, see you in the morning?”
There was a plea in his question that he couldn’t hide. Elizabeth nodded, her eyes on the bloodied cloth that she’d twisted in her hands, sending smears of crimson streaking across her palms. She heard the floorboards creak under his boots as he trudged up the stairs.
“William?” she called, moving to the banister.
“Yes?” he answered quickly, turning hastily at the sound of her voice.
“Why blood? Of all the substances they might consume, why do they choose to feed on blood?”
“Cause blood…blood’s all life is, if you think about it. It keeps you warm, keeps your heart beatin’. It’s the one substance that makes you not dead. It forms a bond, see—a connection between people that can’t be undone. It’s a union through love, passion…the things that make us human. They feed on it so they can live in this world, so the demon can remember what it’s like to be a person.”
“Oh…I guess that makes more sense than, you know, snails or something.”
He tilted his head to one side, a smile hiding in his eyes.
“You’re a corker, Elizabeth.”
“Is that a good thing? Or did you just insult me?”
“Maybe,” he smirked before making his way up the stairs.
After his bedroom door shut softly, Elizabeth stood frozen for a long moment. She had no idea what had happened exactly or what in the world she was doing. All she knew for certain was that she loved the way her name sounded as it rolled off his tongue.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry I've been so slow updating! Life is being crazy...Happy Easter/vernal equinox!