by C. M. Sipes
She finished drinking and licked the wound closed, stopping when the dizziness subsided. She finally looked down to see a young boy in her arms.
Vittoria felt disgust rise in her throat as she laid him back on the ground and stood, shutting the door behind her before walking over to Marcella and the hag.
“What is your name?” asked Vittoria as she took a seat.
“Cafell, Your Majesty,” Cafell answered.
“Celtic. Meaning, ‘oracle.’ How fitting,” Marcella muttered before looking to Vittoria. “What happened?”
“She spoke to me,” Vittoria replied softly. “I saw her. Marcella she was there, the night I was reborn. She was there, across from the cemetery watching me.” Her voice grew frantic.
“That is impossible. I would have seen her,” Marcella soothed.
“She speaks the truth, Your Highness,” Cafell said.
Marcella looked at the hag and then to Vittoria. She scooted closer to her and wrapped a protective arm around Vittoria’s shoulders.
“What did she say to you?” Marcella asked softly.
Vittoria looked at Marcella, holding her gaze before speaking. “She said, ‘mine.’”
Marcella’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Mine?”
She nodded.
Marcella looked away, but Vittoria could see the concern written on her face, her eyes looking expectantly at Cafell.
No one knew what to make of that one simple word, or the vision.
Cafell’s white eyes lingered on the fire, staring into nothingness. “What is done is done. This one requires no price, Your Majesties.”
* * *
Six Months Later…
“You are a beast, you know,” Isabel said before laughing heartily.
Vittoria had pulled Isabel to her, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist as she pressed a gentle kiss to her throat. Vittoria enjoyed the quickened pace of her heartbeat, the steady flow of her blood beneath her skin, and her smell that permeated her senses.
“I am. But I am also yours,” she replied with a chuckle.
“Have you fed yet tonight?” Isabel asked suddenly, pulling back from the embrace slightly.
“No.” She shook her head.
“Then feed,” Isabel instructed with a smirk, head tilting to the side in invitation.
“I am starting to think that you enjoy this,” Vittoria muttered before her fangs pierced her flesh.
Isabel moaned in her arms, her blood rushing to the surface and flowing into Vittoria’s mouth. Vittoria sighed as the taste hit her tongue. She did not know why she tasted so heavenly to her. Perhaps it was the pheromones, or her witch blood, but whatever it was—it was by far the most delectable thing to ever cross her path.
She pulled back, not wanting to drink any more from her and weaken her. Her tongue ran over the puncture marks, sealing them from sight and cleaning the remaining bloodstains from her flesh.
“Better?” Isabel asked, her eyes heavy from the blood loss.
“Much,” Vittoria replied before she carried her to the nearest chair and sat her on it. “So, how is the potion making going?”
Isabel sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “I am making progress. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless. The potion curbs their appetite for five hours. However, it seems that once it wears off they become more ravenous than they were before the potion.”
Vittoria took a seat next to her, mulling over what she had said.
“Does Marcella know of this?” Isabel asked.
“Absolutely not. She would kill you,” Vittoria replied before sighing.
“Surely she would be more lenient though? After all, you love me,” Isabel said, blue eyes piercing green.
“No. Not even that would keep her from killing you, my love,” she replied sadly. “Her hatred for your kind runs as deep as the oceans.”
Isabel nodded. “Yet she knows of me.”
“Yes, but I have obviously failed to mention that you are a witch,” she replied with a sad smile.
Silence encased them.
“Why do you not turn me then?” Isabel asked suddenly.
“I would, but I have not created a successor yet. It is not my time. I would have to have someone else turn you…which I would not enjoy,” she answered.
“Why not?”
“You would be stronger with my blood coursing through your veins, but that cannot happen until I have already passed on the blood memories to a successor. It all is complicated and even I do not fully understand the working of this…magic,” Vittoria replied. “Now, please, let us not talk of that any longer. I must leave shortly.”
Isabel nodded, aware of the early hour. The sun would be rising soon and Vittoria needed to return to the coven house.
She stood and moved to Vittoria, gracefully taking a seat on her lap and wrapping her arms around her neck. Her forehead came to rest against Vittoria’s and they sat like that, neither of them knowing for how long.
Vittoria felt her limbs begin to tingle with the approaching dawn, and reluctantly tilted Isabel’s head up to meet her gaze.
“I need to leave,” she said before pressing a kiss to her lips.
Isabel returned the affection, basking in the softness of the kiss.
“I shall see you tonight?” Isabel asked.
“Of course,” Vittoria replied with a smile. She pressed another kiss to her lips before bidding her farewell and racing from her apothecary.
Vittoria could feel the drowsiness clouding her mind. She had stayed too long. She pushed herself to move faster, quickly breaking from the city and rushing across the countryside.
She entered the house just as the sun rose, her back hitting the doors as she sighed.
“Am I going to have to set a curfew?” Marcella asked from atop the stairs.
Vittoria chuckled. “Perhaps.”
“If you had stayed any longer you would have been crawling inside the house, most likely with a few burns,” Marcella commented.
She grinned. “Take pity on me, Marcella. I am a woman in love,” she said as she moved toward the stairs.
“You will not be so in love when you meet the sun,” Marcella replied dryly, her eyebrows rising in challenge.
Vittoria rolled her eyes at her maker as she reached the top of the stairs. “I am going to bed. Thank you for waiting up, mother,” she teased as she walked by Marcella.
Marcella’s lips were pursed as she followed Vittoria down the hallway and entered her room without a second glance back. Vittoria shrugged off the uneasy feeling that crawled up her spine and entered her room, flopping down on the bed and drifting off to sleep.
Vittoria took a seat on her throne, sighing as the council began to file into the room. She would have preferred to still be with Isabel, but immediate coven matters had to be handled. She had spent the first few hours of the night at the apothecary with her before she had to return for the council meeting. Her eyes flickered around the room in boredom, wishing she could be free of her responsibilities for one more night.
Marcella took her seat and chanced a glance at Vittoria, her expression unreadable.
Vittoria raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
Her maker held her gaze for a moment before lazily turning her attention back to the room.
“So, I believe we have an update?” Marcella asked the council, once everyone was settled.
“The bloodlusters are being handled surprisingly well, Your Majesties. Their numbers in London are dwindling as our scouts continue to handle the situation. Their presence is barely noticeable anymore,” one councilwoman supplied. She took her seat as she finished.
“There is talk on the street of a witch creating potions for the bloodlusters that curbs their hunger,” a councilman began. “We do not know who the witch is, Your Majesties. However, it appears that this potion could be quite useful. Perhaps it could even lead to a temporary cure for their condition?”
“Do not be ridiculous, Viktor,” ano
ther spoke up. “They are ravenous beasts that need to be put down, not treated.”
“Atticus, I implore you to see reason,” Viktor urged before turning his attention back to his Queens. “Your Majesties, if we could cure the bloodlusters of their hunger, they would become immensely more manageable. We would not have to dedicate so much of our resources to eradicating them.”
Marcella’s eyes were twinkling with curiosity. “I see your point, Viktor.”
“Your Majesty!” Atticus exclaimed. “It has been this way for thousands of years, why is there suddenly a potential cure? You do not find it strange?”
“Atticus, there has been a revival of knowledge. Therefore, it is only expected that there are new methods being developed,” Vittoria commented, keeping her expression neutral.
“But, Your Highness, no one has ever attempted this before. Besides, can we really trust a witch?” asked Atticus, his arms spread wide in gesture.
“While I am not fond of witches, Atticus, I must agree with Viktor and Vittoria. It appears that this potion of sorts can be beneficial to our species,” Marcella responded.
Atticus threw up his hands in defeat as he took his seat.
“Our forces have been spread thin these last few months, due to the bloodlusters. We have barely been able to keep tabs on the wolves,” Vittoria added.
Marcella nodded in agreement. “They may have signed the peace treaty but that does not mean I am willing to easily trust them.”
“I doubt Aerona would risk breaking the treaty, Marcella. After all, it has been in effect for a hundred and fifteen years,” she replied.
Marcella raised an eyebrow in response. “I still do not trust them.”
“You do not trust anyone, Marcella,” Vittoria replied with a light laugh.
Marcella’s eyes flashed briefly before she turned her attention back to the council, leaving Vittoria perplexed.
“Pull back some of our scouts from the bloodlusters. I want them redistributed to keep an eye on the wolves,” Marcella commanded.
Vittoria eyed her for a moment before nodding her agreement to the council.
“Now, if there is anything—” Marcella began before she was interrupted by the doors flying wide open.
“Your Majesties, forgive the intrusion,” a guard said as he gave a deep bow.
“You are forgiven,” Vittoria replied.
Both Marcella and she looked at the guard, waiting for him to speak.
“This bloodluster is demanding to see Vittoria,” the guard said, forcing Vittoria to rise from her seat as they threw him into the room.
“Henry?” she asked surprised. He looked well enough, and there was no doubt in her mind that he was one of Isabel’s visitors for the potion.
“Your Majesty, you must come at once—” Henry began before Marcella cut him off.
“You dare enter this chamber while our council is convening?” Marcella angrily asked, her nostrils flaring and eyes changing.
“Marcella,” Vittoria growled back, her own angry eyes meeting Marcella’s.
“Your Majesty, it is Isabel,” Henry breathed out, ignoring Marcella.
Her head whipped back to him, fear paralyzing her body.
“What of her?” Vittoria asked. She tried to conceal the fear in her voice, but as she felt the entire rooms gaze on her face, she knew she had failed.
“She is being taken into the town square. She is set to burn,” Henry told her quickly.
“For what crime!” Vittoria demanded.
Marcella’s hand was on her arm, attempting to calm her, but Vittoria yanked it away.
“Witchcraft.”
The room was filled with murmurs, and Vittoria felt as if a stake had been driven straight through her heart.
“Vittoria.” Marcella’s voice was soft as her hand reached out for her once more.
Vittoria’s eyes were fixated on the stone floor beneath her as panic began to fill every part of her body and gripped her very being.
She raced past Henry and avoided Marcella’s grasp as she fled from the room. She knew Marcella was following as she ran toward the city. She had never run so fast in her life. Every primal instinct in her body had taken over her senses. Her feet pressed into the ground before she sprung into the air and took flight, her swarm diving and weaving through the night, hastily making its way toward the town square.
Vittoria could see the pyre resting in the center, stacked with twigs and wood as a small crowd began to gather. She felt the familiar sluggishness prod at her body as the sun began to rise. Yet she pressed forward, forcing the wings to fly as quickly as they could before dropping down to the ground and seamlessly returning to human form. She raced from the alleyway and came to a halt at the back of the crowd that had gathered.
“Vittoria!” Marcella yelled.
She felt her hands on her, and soon her body was slammed against a wall, Marcella’s hands grasping her arms and keeping them pinned to her sides.
“Let me go!” Vittoria screamed at her, her movements becoming frantic. Marcella held firm, struggling against her strength as she attempted to keep her where she was.
“Vittoria, you need to stop, you will expose us!” Marcella hissed as she tightened her grip.
“I do not care!” Vittoria growled out. Her eyes frantically moved back to the crowd. They had begun to talk and soon she was greeted with the sight of Isabel.
They moved her to the pyre and placed her at the center, using a rope to tie her hands together behind the pole.
“No,” Vittoria whimpered out, continuing to struggle against Marcella.
“Vittoria.”
“Save her! Please Marcella, let me save her.” She had never begged in her life, but she desperately needed to prevent Isabel’s death, no matter what the cost was.
“I cannot, Vittoria,” Marcella replied, her voice low.
The priest raised his voice over the crowd. “On this day, the 23rd of April, 1563 in the year of our Lord, by order of her Sovereignty Queen Elizabeth I, Isabel Hathaway is charged and found guilty of Witchcraft,” the priest said to the crowd.
A cheerful roar emanated from the gallery.
“Marcella, please,” Vittoria whispered to her. She held her gaze until the priest began to speak again.
“She shall answer for her crimes against the Church and the State through the cleansing of fire!” The priest yelled out.
Her eyes focused on Isabel. She could see her shaking in fear as she stood on the pyre, her eyes downcast and looking to her feet.
“Isabel!” Vittoria yelled out over the noise of the crowd.
Isabel’s head raised slightly, her eyes scanning the crowd before they landed on Marcella and Vittoria at the very back.
Her eyes brimmed with tears as her body shook with fear. Her head whipped to the side as the priest approached the pyre with a torch, his lips muttering a prayer for her soul.
“Isabel!” Vittoria yelled again, struggling even harder against Marcella’s grasp.
“You cannot save her, Vittoria!” Marcella growled out, pushing her body against her to still her movements.
“No!” Vittoria yelled again. She could feel the hot liquid of her blood seep from her eyes and begin to move down her cheek. Her eyes remained focused on Isabel, their gazes locked on each other.
The torch touched the kindling, catching and quickly spreading to the others. Smoke began to pour from the pyre. Isabel’s eyes held Vittoria’s own and her mouth moved, saying words that only Marcella and Vittoria could hear.
“I love you.”
Vittoria mouthed the phrase back to her, helpless as Isabel began to cough from the smoke filling her lungs. The smoke encased her and Vittoria listened closely. Her heart was pumping frantically as she inhaled…until it finally began to slow.
Vittoria let out a sob, stopping her struggle against Marcella as she heard Isabel’s heart still. The silence was deafening to her ears, and she continued to watch on, helpless, as the flames consumed her
body.
“No,” Vittoria whispered, her body falling into Marcella as her blood tears stained her dress. Sobs wracked her body as they fell to the ground, her hands balling into fists and hitting Marcella.
“Vittoria,” she tried to soothe.
Vittoria continued to sob, even as the flames ceased and the crowd disbursed.
The sun had risen, but the shade from the building covered her and Marcella as they remained in open daylight. Marcella held her as she cried, muttering, “come back,” repeatedly as Vittoria felt her dead heart shatter piece by piece.
“Vittoria, it is nearly noon,” Marcella whispered, her hand still rubbing soothing circles on her back.
Vittoria had not realized they had been there for so long.
She finally managed to glance up at Marcella and she could see her reflection in her eyes. Blood stained her skin, and her eyes were a dull red as she searched her face. She turned her gaze to what was left of Isabel’s corpse.
It was still standing, the outline of her form still visible as her body had not completely turned to ash. Vittoria rose from the ground and walked into the sunlight, ignoring Marcella’s call and the sting of the sun. She moved to the pyre and stopped in front of Isabel’s body, a small sob wracking her own as she reached up and touched her face. Burned flesh fell from it and she suppressed another sob as Marcella joined her.
“We need to get you out of the sun,” Marcella said softly.
“Let me burn,” Vittoria replied, her voice low and hollow.
“Vittoria, please. I can withstand this, you cannot. Please,” Marcella pleaded.
“How? How could they—” Vittoria began to ask, her voice catching in her throat.
“The court has their ways, Vittoria.”
“I do not understand how, though.”
“Did you know?” Marcella asked.
Vittoria paused at the tone in her voice, her eyes slowly moving from Isabel’s body to Marcella’s gaze. “Yes,” she said simply. “Did you?”
Her eyes burned into Marcella’s and she waited for a flicker, a twitch, anything to confirm the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes glanced to the side briefly, so fast that, if Vittoria had not been staring so intently, she would have missed it.