Holidays Bite: A Limited Edition Collection of Holiday Vampire Tales

by Laura Greenwood

  Faelan chewed on a piece of raw meat as the stories drifted around us. His gaze, golden and menacing, caught mine across our small campsite. But his expression shifted as soon I looked upon him. He raised a glass of wine and stood, a grin on his fearsome, black-furred face.

  “To our beloved Eire,” he said, to which everyone near and far cheered. They all joined his toast, speaking blessings upon me—long life, many children, a safe journey, a prosperous rule.

  The entire camp began to sparkle and glow, for the faery blessings were that great. Even my sister dared to join in, raising her glass and speaking of her love for me. But my favorite of all was when my twin boys clamored to their feet, their hair wild from a day of adventure, their skin kissed by the sun. They each raised their copper cups, filled to the brim with goat milk, for they were much too young to drink wine.

  “To our Ma, who is more beautiful than the sun itself,” Benen declared.

  “To the one who bore me, may I ever serve her,” Ambros proclaimed.

  My cheeks were fresh with tears when Greagoir approached me with a new cup of wine, a shining copper goblet crafted with vines and roses—my signet. “A gift from the Duine, who lived in the last valley we passed through,” he told me. “I promised them I would save this wine and this cup for a special day.” Then he pulled out two smaller cups, not quite as elaborate as mine, but still beautiful. “And these are for the twins. May they ever reign at your side, when you return to reclaim your kingdom.”

  He poured wine into each vessel, but he knew my children had not yet been allowed that drink, so he waited for my approval.

  I nodded.

  “Thank you, Greagoir. Come. You may drink with me, my leanaí,” I told my boys, “and we will remember this day when we return, armies at our side.”

  Ambros and Benen stared at me for a heartbeat, their eyes widened in both surprise and joy. Then they raced one another to claim their cups. Laughter swept through our camp, then we all drank one last toast together.

  It was the first time my children drank the fruit of this vine.

  It would also be their last.

  By my own hand, I brought our destruction.

  No one else drank from my cup. For this, I will be eternally grateful. The vintage was only poured into my goblet and that of my sons’, something I didn’t notice until much later. We all toasted together, everyone in the camp; we drank our fill and more. One by one, my people began to fall asleep, most of them right where they sat. They merely pulled a blanket or a cloak over themselves, and soon the entire valley filled with the sounds of men and women snoring.

  I fell asleep too, my boys in my arms, one on each side of me. It was a strange and mysterious slumber. At first I thought it was only because I was weary from our long journey and the wine had been a different vintage, from a different vale. My dreams turned heavy and dark, unlike any I’d ever had before. I imagined I was lost in a midnight forest and every trail led to a dead end. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t escape.

  I wanted to wake up, but couldn’t.

  Then voices sounded nearby—hushed and urgent. A low panic threaded through my dreams as I tried to tell the difference between my nightmare and reality.

  “Be careful, don’t make a sound,” a man said.

  “Are you certain she’s asleep?”

  Low laughter made my unusual slumber even more terrifying.

  “Eire will not waken. Now, hurry.”

  Hands lifted me and I felt cold air surround me. The heat of the campfire bled away until it became a distant memory. I worried for my twins, but couldn’t ask where they were.

  I tried to scream, to wake up my servants and soldiers; I tried to cry out for help, but my mouth refused to open. Not a sound came from me, no matter how hard I fought. It felt like I wore thick bronze shackles on my arms and legs, for no part of me could move.

  “Quiet, now,” someone said beside me. The voice was none other than Greagoir, my trusted servant, the same man who had presented me with the new goblet and wine.

  “That way,” another familiar voice said—'twas Faelan.

  Release me! Let me go!

  But my words rang only out inside my head. My lips never moved.

  “Hurry!” ‘Twas another voice from yet another man, but I did not recognize him. His accent was strange, almost hard to understand. When I finally placed its foreign origin, I was being set on the rocky ground.

  Milesian. This last man was one of the invaders.

  “Your long boats are safe,” this stranger said.

  “This is all I needed to hear,” Faelan replied.

  A struggle ensued, a cry, a spray of something warm across my arm—blood probably—then came the sound of a blade being cleaned.

  “Leave him here. And put the boys beside her. ‘Tis fitting they should sleep together forever,” Faelan said. I could hear the grin in his words.

  Warmth returned to me then, for my leanaí were now nestled beside me, one in each arm.

  Then there came another cry. This time I recognized the voice. It was the sound of my betrayer being killed. Greagoir fell to the ground with a thump. For a few moments, there were two dead bodies here with me, but Faelan quickly dragged them away.

  He left me alone then, with only my children and the long, dark sleep. He returned before the rest of the camp awoke and his actions surprised me—this was his one and only act of mercy.

  I will be forever grateful for this.

  “Say your farewell here, woman,” he said, his voice gruff. “And if you touch her or if you cry out, your own leanaí will be laid to rest in this cave too.”

  “Eire!” my sister Caer gasped. “What have you done to her, Faelan? Has she been poisoned, is there no cure?”

  “‘Tis the long sleep. She and her children will never awaken. Say farewell, but remember what I said. I’ll put your own children in this cave if you tell anyone what I have done.”

  “My children? But they’re your children too—”

  He struck her and Caer fell, weeping.

  “You have until the moon sets behind the mountains. If you’re not back in our camp by then, your children will be drinking the Wine of a Thousand Years.”

  He turned and left us then, and his footsteps sounded like the stones being laid on my burial cairn.

  Chapter 6

  Quiet reigned. There was no sound of my heartbeat or my breathing. Cold seeped into my flesh and settled in my bones. It felt like the Ice Giants had returned and covered me in a river of frozen water.

  Then a sweet fragrance swept over me.

  Roses.

  My sister was preparing me for my death.

  Her tears fell as she covered me with rose petals. From time to time, she mumbled to herself, and I couldn’t distinguish her words. Not until she raised her voice, singing and praying.

  ‘Twas the banshee voice she was using and it trembled through my bones like fire.

  “Ye shall not die, my sweet Eire. Nor shall your sons, Benen and Ambros. There shall be sleep and rest, until you be safe. This cave will be sheltered and protected by my own spell and none will be able to break it.”

  A shower of rose petals fell upon me and I heard her wince. Then something fell upon my lips, thick and rich, carrying a coppery scent.

  She had plucked herself with the rose thorns and her own blood had fallen upon my lips. She was using the Old Ways of the vampiric Leanan Sidhe. Even though we were not of that Clan, their blood magic was the strongest of all.

  “My blood shall feed you, dear Eire. It shall sustain you, Benen and Ambros. I will raise up loyal Duine from an honorable house to serve you, for a millennium and more. As long as you sleep, they shall tend and feed you, and you will know them by the roses they bring as an offering. Their blood shall sustain you. You will not see their faces or know their names, but they will serve the great Queen Eire until that day when her strength returns. Kingdoms will rise and fall, but the kingdom of Eire will prevail. The moon may gro
w weary of her journey across the heavens, but the Duine house that serves you will never tire of their service to you. And on that final blessed day, dear sister, you and your sons shall awake. Your destiny shall continue. You will prevail against your enemies, my sister. You will survive.”

  My heart was lifted.

  “You will recognize your Guardians by the crest on their tunics, for they shall proudly wear a wreath of roses in your memory.”

  But my sister had one more thing to add to her spell. Something that surprised me as much as her husband’s betrayal.

  “You shall not awaken until the time of your true love has come.”

  She had kept her oath to her husband. She never touched me and she left before the moon set over the mountains. I know because Faelan never returned to the cave, carrying his own children in his arms.

  My sister protected both my House and hers.

  I will miss her until the stars fall and the great and horrible Faery Cavalcade carries me away.

  Chapter 7

  The winter frost came, bringing a dusting of snow that covered us. The skin of my sons grew as cold as ice and I worried that I would lose them, that even if I survived this curse, they would not. I couldn’t open my eyes or speak, but I could feel the swift passing of the sun as it spilled long beams into the cavern each day.

  Then, one day, I felt a warm, soft fur pelt covering the three of us.

  “We come to serve you, my true queen,” a man’s voice said. He sounded old, and I imagined he had deep wrinkles and a long white beard. The moment he placed the furs upon us, I silently blessed him and his house.

  A gentle hand parted my lips.

  Drops of blood fell into my mouth.

  The sweet fragrance of roses came next.

  “The women in my house shall tend to your garments, for they will fade and tear in time,” he said. “I promise that no man will violate you, no blade shall harm you or your boys. No Milesian silver will ever cross the threshold of this cave. We will be your guardians, from now until the end of time.”

  If I could have wept at his words, I would have. All I could do was call down a blessing upon him.

  And then he was gone.

  The sun and the moon were my constant companions, though they seemed to only flicker for a moment in the long passing years. My guardians came and fed both my leanaí and me. Just as the first man had promised, from time to time a woman would enter the cave, speaking gentle words as she changed our worn-out garments with fresh clothing.

  Their many sacrifices warmed me and gave me hope.

  “Live and prosper,” I spoke silently to each and every one of them. “I shall never forget you, though I don’t know your house or your name.”

  Sometimes they spoke back to me, as if my words rang out in their mind.

  “Thank you, Seanchaí. We are honored to serve you.”

  Snow changed to spring rain, sunlight melted into moonbeams, and the days faded into years until I lost count. At times, loneliness would overwhelm me and I would curse Faelan for what he had done and then one of my Guardians would appear, as if they had heard my despair.

  They were my angels in this darkness.

  Mortal creatures, with but seventy years or so, they cared for me, the immortal one. During this time, I realized that I loved the Duine even more than my own Fair Folk. I dreamed and I hoped that there would be peace in my country when I finally awoke. Maybe I wouldn’t have to flee. Maybe I could stay here and just be Seanchaí to my beloved Duine.

  This dream was born when one of my Guardians became my friend.

  He kept his true identity a secret, calling himself merely Cara Maith—a good friend. His voice was rich and deep, and as melodic as a song. He told me stories as he tended to me and my boys. I learned what clans were in power and which had fallen, I found out that the Milesians had never been defeated. Instead, they married the Duine who lived in this island kingdom and now the Milesians’ had descendants everywhere.

  Every clan but a few had taken the knee to these rulers. Cara Maith’s house refused and, as a result, they lived hidden in these mountains, hoping for their faery queen to return.

  “You will waken soon, Seanchaí. My daughter and I pray for it every night,” he confessed one day after feeding me. His voice carried an unexpected sorrow. “I hope I live to see sunlight glisten in your eyes and the breeze stirring your long, golden hair. But this will be my last visit. ‘Tis time for my younger cousin to care for you. Be well. Be safe, my queen.”

  A great, heavy cloak of sadness fell upon me when he left, his boots scuffing against rock, the fragrance of roses stirring in his wake. Benen lay snuggled in my left arm and he let out a soft moan, which Ambros echoed on my right.

  All three of us mourned the absence of our friend, Cara Maith.

  If ever I longed to awaken, it was that moment.

  I wanted to see his face. I wanted to thank him.

  I wanted to live like a Duine woman and fall in love.

  But I didn’t have the power to break this enchantment.

  It seemed a long time before our next Guardian visited us and when he did, his words came in great gasps and he carried a sense of danger.

  “Faelan has sent warriors to kill you, Seanchaí!” the young man whispered in my ear. I could hear the clang of his sword and caught the earthy smell of battle on his clothing—dirt, oil, metal.

  And blood.

  There was too much blood. The small cave filled with its coppery scent and, again, for the second time in centuries, my son Benen shifted in my arms, letting out a soft moan.

  Then our young Guardian took a shallow breath—perhaps glancing over his shoulder and staring out the cave entrance—before he spoke again.

  “Faelan learned how your sister helped you and he knows our house has been tending to you,” the young man continued, a death-rattle in his lungs. “You must wake up, now! There are only a few Guardians left and I barely made it here, for I took two enemy arrows while climbing the mountain. Faelan’s soldiers are prowling every trail and pass, searching for this cave. Caer’s magic won’t hide you much longer. I will feed you one last time, my queen. Then you must rise, take your children, and flee!”

  He fed me then, his blood flowing into my mouth in a rushing, steady stream. I worried that he may have plunged his knife into his neck, for the blood didn’t stop. He never spoke to me again.

  ‘Twas his own lifeblood flowing out to bring me back.

  It was time to wake.

  Chapter 8

  200 A.D.

  * * *

  My heart beat once. Then twice. I took a long, shallow breath. The smell of the cave filled my nostrils—mossy, earthy, damp, and along with it came the coppery stench of blood. My eyes fluttered open, though at first, all I saw were dark shadows.

  Then I saw him.

  The young Guardian, barely more than a boy, sprawled dead across the narrow cave floor.

  I sat up, awkward and slow, scanning the small enclosure to see if anyone else was here.

  My twin boys still slept at my side, their lips bright red from our recent feeding. I pressed my ear against their chests, glad to hear their hearts beating.

  Fresh clothing lay in the corner, a long dress with a warm fur collar, matching blue suits for my boys. Beside the clothing rested earthen jars filled with clear water, along with baskets of bread and fruit and meat. And thick rose vines twined and curled everywhere. My Guardians must have brought this offering so frequently that the flowers took root. The blossoming vines spread throughout the cave and almost completely covered the entrance, pale pink flowers blooming even in the dark cave, long spiky thorns everywhere.

  I quickly woke my leanaí.

  Ambros whimpered, “I don’t want to get up.”

  So glad to hear his voice, I laughed and hugged him.

  “Let me sleep, Ma,” Benen said.

  “Wake, children, we must flee quickly!” I told them, using my banshee voice. I hated to use that vo
ice upon them, but it forced their eyes open. They stood up, both of them unstable on their feet.

  “Eat,” I commanded, pointing to the baskets of food. “Drink.”

  They ate like tiny, hungry wolves.

  I grinned. This was how we would escape.

  Once we had all eaten and drunk our fill, I made them sit and explained the danger.

  “Faelan is coming for us, my little ones. We must run and we must hide. While we run through these hills, I will disguise us all as white wolves. But you must stay with me and do not get lost! If you do, you will remain wolves forever, for no one can break my spell but me. After we get to the Duine, I will change our appearance again, for the mortals hate wolves and would try to kill us.”

  “I will do as you say, Ma,” Benen said.

  “I will run fast and stay with you,” Ambros promised.

  I wrapped them both in a long hug and then told them we needed to remove our clothing and leave it in the cave. After that, I whispered the Incantation of Change, a spell so strong few faeries dared to use it. It was our only chance. Just like the Leanan Sidhe blood magic, I reverted to the Old Ways.

  As soon as I finished the spell, we became a wolf pack—a she-wolf and her precious cubs—and we ran, four paws each, scrambling over rocks and past rivers and through forests. We could smell Faelan’s hunters long before we saw them.

  They smelled like sour milk and unwashed flesh. Bitter, sharp, dangerous.

  We knew immediately which way to go to avoid them.

  We ran, day into night and into day again. We ran until we were so weary, we could run no further.

  That was when he almost caught us.

  Chapter 9

  The mountains had changed during the centuries while we slept. Entire forests had been cut down, while others grew up in different places. The Liffey and Slaney Rivers had changed their courses and even the sunlight seemed a different color. If the damp, peat soil hadn’t smelled the same or if the wind hadn’t blown off the snow to reveal the brilliant ling heather beneath, I would have thought I’d stepped into another world.