Chapter Nineteen
Clarissa glided silently across the dry leaves. She crouched and reached out slowly, almost casually, through the twiggy underbrush without a whisper of sound. She paused just inches from the rabbit’s neck, still undetected. With its back to her, the little forest denizen had no warning, no chance. Her hand shot out; her fingers wrapped around the small creature’s throat with a vice-like grip of steel, then pulled it from its hiding place.
There was noise, finally. The rabbit squirmed violently in her grasp, knocking several dried twigs to the earth. Clarissa, intrigued by its struggles, lifted the small creature to scrutinize before her face. Its thickening coat, a smooth mix of brown and tan along its back, contrasted sharply with the soft downy white fur covering its neck and belly. Repressing a chuckle, Clarissa traced a finger across the creature’s long ears. The mark of its species, the ears of a rabbit provided the creature with its first line of defense against predators and they were notorious for their acuity. Unfortunately, nature had never planned to pit them against the incorporeal stealth of a vampire. Against such, they were useless.
Clarissa dropped her arm, letting the struggling creature hang by her side. She felt hesitant about eating anything that wasn’t human. It just smelled wrong. She had little doubt the taste would reflect that several times over. Her eyes strayed through the bushes toward the river. Only the keenness of her undead vision allowed her to see the island in the center. The small circle of land harbored prey of a much more delectable nature: men. Three of them, although she only really needed one. To a vampire downwind of the island, the smell of human flesh stood out sharply against the other conflicting scents of the forest night: pine needles, tree sap, animal droppings, and, of course, wolves’ blood. Such carnage. She felt both dismayed and impressed by the slaughter of Lucian’s precious children. Just three men, and they had killed nearly thirty of the creatures. Granted, they’d had the high ground against an amphibious charge, but that did not detract from the feat. In her mortal days, she would have called herself lucky to be in the company of such stalwart warriors.
Clarissa sniffed the wind. The amalgamation of animal and human blood mixing with sweat provided an exhilarating reminder of her need for more food. How she wished the men would leave their safety! That’s why she had retreated to the shadows: to lure them out. As long as she stayed out of sight, there might be a chance they’d think she had left, and thus make a fatal error.
But then, there was the warrior.
Clarissa grimaced in silence. If that man knew anything at all of vampires—which he obviously did—she thought it very unlikely that they would move before the dawn. By then, she would have retired to the castle; her powers were no match against the might of the Sun. Her gaze lifted to the sky. Of course, Lucian’s gift with weather still could turn the tables.
The snow had been falling steadily for nearly an hour, and was starting to make headway against the ground’s residual warmth. Several patches of white stood out against the browns of the forest floor, and the storm showed little sign of letting up. At this rate, there might very well be half a foot of the powdery substance when dawn finally came. Would that be enough threat to force the men from hiding? They could not afford to be snowed in. Another night would mean their end.
Clarissa’s teeth sank into the rabbit’s flesh while she puzzled over her dilemma. The blood, though warm, possessed a decidedly unpleasant flavor, as she had expected. Although it would keep her nourished in whatever way an undead creature could be said to be nourished, Clarissa took little enjoyment from her meal.
She swished some of the blood around with her tongue before swallowing. Unpleasant. Not outright disgusting, but definitely unpleasant. Oddly, it reminded her of her old agnari friend, Gileus. The taste of rabbit’s blood seemed reminiscent of a mix of normally good foods that did not work well together, like milk and wine in her mortal days. She remembered when Gileus had served her some of that so many years ago. They had been in an expensive tavern, she recalled. Gileus, a creature of odd tastes, had been deeply offended by the tavernkeeper’s wine. Hoping to concoct something a bit more to his liking, he poured a small amount of milk in his cup. After deciding that the result tasted far better than just plain wine, he did the same for her when she wasn’t looking. With her first taste, she poured the goblet out and drenched Gileus from head to toe.
The flow of blood down Clarissa’s throat came to an abrupt end. Disappointed, she dropped the bloodless rabbit to the earth and looked around for another.
The recent presence of so many wolves seemed to have emptied most of the surrounding woods of further wild life. Perhaps it was all for the best, Clarissa mused, as she glanced toward the island again. She wouldn’t want to find she had lost her appetite when the time came for the men to leave.
She stifled a laugh. Who was she kidding? A vampire’s hunger was never filled.
Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin) Page 36