Twice Bitten

by R. G. Emanuelle

  She wished things could be different for women. She wished women could come and go and do as they pleased. Her preference for the night made her often want to find a cozy tavern where she could sit and watch people, listen to normal conversations, enjoy the exchange of opinions, jokes, and gossip. But a woman could not go into a place like that alone. Or even with an escort in many instances. Only one type of woman did that.

  Fiona had tried it once out of sheer boredom. Cautiously, she had entered a tavern and sat down at a table, and become immediately aware of the blatant stares. What she had not been prepared for were the loud derogatory comments. It shocked her to hear the men calling her a whore outright. She had expected them to think it, but not to say it so baldly. When approached by the bartender and asked what she was doing there, since it wasn't "that kind" of an establishment, she made up a story about how her husband had to tend to a family emergency and she was waiting for him to return, but she was too frightened to be in their home alone and so she came to the saloon to be around other people. The men there only laughed and taunted her maliciously until she got up and left.

  One man had decided to follow her out. He was dressed in dirty, sloppy clothing, and Fiona could smell whiskey on him. Not just on his breath, but emanating from his skin. He drank often and with gusto, she could tell. Glancing back only once, Fiona saw complete lechery on his face.

  He kept a few yards' distance between them at first, but quickly closed the gap. Fiona was frightened--not for her safety but for her sanity. What would happen if he attacked her was not something she enjoyed.

  "Aye, there, lassie. What's yer hurry?" The man said. He was only three feet away.

  Fiona ignored him, hoping he would just go away.

  "Aye, don't rush off now. Stop and chat, lassie."

  "Stop calling me lassie," Fiona said firmly without stopping.

  "Well, what do ya want me to call ya?" the man said, grinning.

  Fiona turned a corner and walked up a darkened alley. It was a deliberate move that any other woman would have called a death sentence. Fiona knew he wasn't going away voluntarily.

  "Well, lass, it looks like you know these streets well. How's about a tug?"

  Fiona stopped and swerved around, her eyes blazing. A flash of fear passed through the man's eyes, but only for a moment. "Come on, right, here's a good, lass."

  She knew he saw her as just a woman. A whore. "My name is Fiona."

  The man's eyes lit up. "Oh, so you're from home, then? I should have known from your lovely complexion and beautiful eyes. I always say Irish lasses have the most beautiful eyes. Well, what's a nice Irish girl like you doin' this fer?" The man said this even as he stepped closer to her and unfastened his trousers.

  Fiona snarled, and when her lips parted and two long, pointy fangs appeared, the man recoiled and stumbled backward. His eyes widened and he continued stepping backward, but before he could get too far, Fiona lunged at him and drove her fangs into his flesh. He didn't cry out. There was no time.

  As the man lost consciousness and sank to the ground, Fiona lowered herself with him, continuing to feed, cradling him in her arms, as if he were someone she cared about. When she was done, she let go of him and he dropped to the ground. Leaning over him, she said into his face, "I do it to rid the world of vermin like you."

  The rush of blood through her thirsty veins, quickened by anger and enriched by the hunter's power over its prey, made this one a heady meal. The euphoria was amplified by the potent Irish whiskey the man had been drinking, making her slightly giddy. It made her feel like a habitué of an opium den craving relief and taking the first puff from a pipe.

  It was then that she realized that no matter how much she fought it, she was now and always would be a vampire. A soulless thing, motivated by bloodlust and fueled by that nameless thing inside that, when triggered, was unstoppable.

  Fiona had gone home that night sated and invigorated by her meal, and even a bit fortified by the effects of the whiskey. But she'd also been angry at the way she had had to take it. Why did people behave so badly? And why did they put her in a position where she had to defend herself? Defending herself always ended badly for the mortal.

  She saw a tavern up the street, loud male laughter and voices spilling from it. She crossed the street, avoiding it. Certain things she did not want to repeat.

  Chapter Nine

  ON SUNDAY MORNING, Rose climbed into the carriage that Fiona had ordered for the day. Fiona was already sitting in it and she greeted her with a broad smile.

  "It's wonderful to see you. Didn't we get a most beautiful day for our picnic?" She sat squarely in the middle of the seat, forcing Rose to sit opposite her.

  "It's very good of you to rent this carriage for us," Rose said. "It's lovely."

  Yes, the carriage was lovely. Fiona had made sure to pick out a new model, with pretty curtains and plush velvet seats. Nothing but the best for Rose.

  "It's my pleasure. It's been a very long time since I've enjoyed a picnic." Longer than you know.

  Fiona was taking a chance being out in daylight for the number of hours she knew this would take. She had tried to come up with a plan that would bring them all together at night. The only idea she had was a party, but in order to have a party, one had to have friends. Fiona didn't have any. Not the kind she wanted around Rose, anyway. And she couldn't invite Rose and Ursula to her apartment alone. She needed to be with them together at the same time but able to spend time alone with Ursula. That wouldn't have been possible in her home. This was the only way.

  It was ten o'clock and the sun was already quite strong. She was not feeling her best, but she needed to get through this. Once it was over, it would all have been worth it.

  Rose pulled the curtains open and tied them back with the sashes on either side and put her face in the rays of sunshine. Fiona winced and turned her head away. She had deliberately pulled the curtains down to put off her exposure to sunlight as long as possible.

  "Is something wrong?" Rose asked.

  "No, dear, my eyes are just sensitive to the light. Always have been. Doctors said it was some condition or other." She waved off Rose's concern nonchalantly.

  "Oh, well, by all means, I'll close them."

  "It's all right," Fiona said, silently grateful that Rose was untying the sashes, letting the curtains fall back down into place.

  The rest of the short ride was filled with idle chit-chat until the carriage stopped in front of Ursula's townhouse in Chelsea. The bricks of the building had a muted pinkish hue to them, and ornately wrought iron banisters flanked the five steps up to the door. Flower boxes underscored all the front windows, which glinted brilliantly in the sunlight. The bright white of the window frames suggested a fresh coat of paint, and the green door displayed a wreath of some sort of greenery.

  The cab driver jumped off the carriage and banged the brass knocker on the door. The housekeeper answered, but Ursula quickly made it to the door without having to be called.

  The driver opened the carriage door for Ursula, who stepped up without waiting to be helped. She smiled at Fiona, then turned to Rose.

  "Good morning," Rose said timidly.

  "Good morning," Ursula responded stiffly.

  Fiona slid over. "Sit here, Ursula. Don't crowd poor Rose just yet. We've yet to pick up Johanna."

  Fiona had encouraged Ursula to invite Johanna to the picnic. That would work in Fiona's favor. She could get Ursula alone, knowing that Rose would have Johanna to keep her busy.

  Once Johanna had been picked up, the four women headed to Central Park. The carriage entered the park and made its way to the upper central area, toward the lake.

  They stepped down from their cab, and the driver tied the horses to a post and collected the baskets of food and blankets that Fiona had prepared. They chose a spot beneath a huge, sprawling elm. Fiona quickly moved into its shade. The driver unfurled the blankets and set the baskets on top of them. He walked away to leave them to t
heir privacy with instructions from Fiona to return in five hours.

  There were three blankets...two were spread out directly underneath the tree. The other was placed farther out for anyone who wanted to sit in the sun.

  "Fiona, it was so kind of you to offer to bring everything," Johanna said as they lowered themselves onto the blankets. "I don't know why you wouldn't let any of us bring anything."

  "Because it was my invitation and my treat," Fiona responded, smiling brightly. "Ursula, come sit here in the shade. With your fair skin, you're likely to burn in the sun."

  As Fiona pulled Ursula down with her onto the ground, she noticed Rose watching them. She sensed her feelings, too. The sight of Fiona's hand on Ursula's arm was maddening for Rose.

  "Well, now," Fiona said, "I thought we'd go rowing after we have lunch. How does that sound, girls?"

  Johanna and Ursula murmured their approval but Rose remained silent. Fiona felt a growing unease from her, and secretly, she knew her plan just might be working.

  "I'M FAMISHED!" JOHANNA cried. Rose smiled. Johanna was never one to be particularly ladylike and she didn't mind letting it be known that she liked to eat. She saw Ursula smiling, too. Ursula turned her head and caught Rose's eye. They continued smiling, but for Rose, the reason had shifted from Johanna's appetite to something else. A warmth went through her.

  In the glorious morning sunshine, Ursula looked so like what Rose imagined a Scandinavian goddess would look like. Her blond hair, wrapped in a chignon, glinted with strands of honey-gold, and she could swear that there were speckles of the same honey sprinkled in her blue eyes. Ursula's outfit was a simple blue-gray suit with straight-cut collar and shoulders. The jacket was fastened by little pearl buttons, and as Rose tracked those buttons downward, she blushed when her eyes reached Ursula's skirt. She fought to slow down her breathing.

  "Here, Ursula. Try some of this." Fiona had reached into one of the baskets and pulled out a bowl covered with a handkerchief. She was moving a spoonful of a creamy, whitish substance up to Ursula's mouth. Before Ursula could accept or refuse, Fiona had the spoon in her mouth. Ursula chewed and swallowed. "Thank you. What is it?"

  "Do you like it?"

  Ursula nodded.

  "It's called ambrosia. That's Greek for nectar of the gods." She smiled slyly at Ursula.

  Rose cringed as Ursula smiled back. A wave of heat started in her ears and traveled over her entire body. A thin layer of perspiration spread down the length of her legs and arms and across her forehead. Her temples thumped as blood collected there. Ursula was her friend...how dare Fiona get so chummy with her?

  Rose glared at Fiona and as the moments passed, her thoughts began shifting. Fiona's skin had always seemed fair, but in the sun, it was almost translucent. It seemed to glow from within. There was something both alluring and frightening about it. Her lips were so full and red, and the hollow of her throat moved delicately as she spoke. Her dark blue dress scooped down to the top of her bosom, a bit risque for daytime.

  Then, something strange happened. Ursula asked Fiona to pass her a piece of cantaloupe, which Fiona had cut up into little squares and put in a bowl. Fiona pierced a piece of the fruit with a fork and held it out to her. Instead of merely giving her the fork, Fiona placed her hand over Ursula's, leaned in, and pushed the melon into her mouth.

  A wave of nausea engulfed her. Not from the spectacle but from having her suspicions confirmed that Fiona was setting her sights on Ursula. The day was suddenly cold.

  Johanna was unwrapping glasses from cloth napkins. Rose couldn't believe how oblivious Johanna seemed to what was happening. How could she not see? The way Fiona was flirting with Ursula...she caught herself. Could a woman flirt with another woman? She had never heard of it, but she didn't know what else to call this behavior.

  She picked at the plate of food Johanna had made for her. "Do you want some of this?" Johanna asked, proffering a bowl of something. Rose nodded and extended her plate, not really knowing what Johanna was putting on it. Not wanting to be caught staring, she kept shifting her gaze between her plate and Ursula and Fiona, sitting beneath the tree, conversing in a very intimate way.

  It looked like Ursula was flirting back. Would Ursula flirt back? Her stomach felt full and twisted, despite the fact that she'd hardly eaten anything.

  "Fiona, you haven't eaten a bite of your food," Johanna remarked.

  Fiona regarded the ambrosia, chicken, and cornbread on her dish. Then, smiling sheepishly, she looked at Ursula, moony-eyed, and said, "I don't seem to have much of an appetite."

  Rose couldn't eat another bite of the mystery food or watch the scene in front of her any longer. She stood up, brushing indistinguishable crumbs from her dress. "I'm full. I'd like to take a walk. Ursula, would you..."

  "Oh, don't go anywhere now," Fiona said. "We're going to the lake. I've arranged to have a pair of rowboats waiting for us."

  They packed away the remaining food, plates, glasses, and utensils into the baskets and left it all under the tree. They walked a few yards to the boat house, where an attendant greeted Fiona. She opened her parasol and spoke to the man privately. He walked them to two boats tied to a post. He helped Fiona step into one, then held his hand out in the general direction of the other three women. Fiona spoke before any one of them could take the man's hand. "Ursula, come on!" She held out her hand, inviting Ursula to join her in the boat.

  Ursula looked at Rose for a moment, as if unsure. No, come in the boat with me, Rose wanted to say.

  Finally, Ursula accepted Fiona's invitation. Ignoring the man, she stepped into the boat, catching Fiona's hand instead. Rose's stomach dropped, and the little bit of food she'd managed to swallow was threatening to come back up.

  Johanna pushed Rose toward the other boat. "Come on, Rose, let's go!" They stepped into the second boat with the man's help.

  The man turned back to Fiona. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a boy to row for you, madam? I can get two for you right away."

  "No, thank you. We'll be fine. Oh, unless you'd like a boy, Rose. Johanna?"

  "Well, I've never rowed a boat before," Johanna said hesitantly.

  "But...oh, well, what the devil? There's a first time for everything."

  The man shrugged, untied the boats, and pushed them off.

  Although the boats floated fairly close together, there was enough distance between them that Rose could not make out what Fiona and Ursula were talking about. Fiona looked fascinated with whatever Ursula said, watching her intently and laughing occasionally. Ursula seemed interested in whatever Fiona said, too, but every so often, she glanced in Rose's direction. Every time Ursula made eye contact with her, goose bumps etched Rose's arms.

  Rose tried paying attention to Johanna, who was not as enthusiastic about rowing the boat as she had been at first. Johanna kept muttering in frustration at the oars. Finally, Rose had had enough of Johanna's grumbling.

  "Here, give them to me," she said, as she reached over to take the oars from Johanna's hands.

  "It's not as easy as it looks."

  "That's fine. You take a break." Rose struggled with the oars but she barely noticed what she was doing. She watched Fiona bend over to put her hand on Ursula's leg, as if to tell her a secret. Ursula bent over, too, and she stopped rowing to give Fiona her full attention.

  What is she saying? Rose wondered. Johanna's voice rang in her ear again, and Rose turned. "What?"

  "We're going in circles. You're just steering us round and round. Here let me take over again or we'll just spin all day long."

  Rose let Johanna take the oars back. By now, Ursula and Fiona had put more distance between them. Rose's stomach churned and her head grew hot. She watched their boat as it headed toward the opposite side of the lake. She could swear she saw Fiona's eyes flicker in her direction. A deliberate look.

  BY THE TIME the two boats pulled up along the mooring where they'd started, Rose was practically in tears. Watching Ursula and Fiona talk and laugh had pro
gressively felt like a knife slicing deeper and deeper into her bowels.

  Ursula, it turned out, was pretty good with a set of oars and their boat had reached the mooring first. The man who had pushed them off was now throwing the rope from the boat around a pylon. As he was helping Fiona out, Ursula got herself out and walked over to where the other boat was pulling in, and waited for Rose and Johanna. The man walked over and repeated his actions with their rope. As he helped Johanna out, Ursula extended her hand to Rose, who accepted and allowed Ursula to pull her up onto the shore. A little wobbly from being on the boat, Rose stumbled, but Ursula caught her and for a moment, their faces were within inches of one another. Rose found herself unable to look away from the heavenly blue eyes.

  Ursula locked eyes with her for what seemed an endless time. And although it was long enough for Rose to etch the cerulean blaze of Ursula's eyes in her mind, the connection was broken too quickly when Ursula turned to walk up the embankment.

  THE TWO HOURS the ladies had spent rowing, walking through the park on the other side of the lake, and rowing back had made them all hungry again. All except Rose. She was queasy and her heart was beating so hard, she was afraid everyone could see her chest thumping.

  Once again, Johanna was trying to feed her.

  "Rose, you've hardly eaten anything today. You must be famished."

  "No, not really," Rose said.

  Johanna laid down with her head in the shade and put her hat over her face. She mumbled something about being worn out from all that rowing and soon, Rose heard soft, regular breathing. Rose leaned back against the tree and looked over to where Ursula and Fiona sat. The sight of the two of them huddled in the shade, deep in conversation, made her eyes sting and her throat swell. Fiona kept touching Ursula's arm and Rose wanted to run over and slap it away.