The Witch and the Vampire

by Tricia Schneider

  Until the next full moon, when the hunger would awaken again, calling within him, urging him to hunt.

  He found the deer, and as predicted it was sleeping. He was about to spring upon it, to satisfy the hunger, when a sound broke the silence of the forest. He tilted his head, listening.

  Perhaps he was dreaming. Could it be he had died on his trek to find this animal? He could not be hearing what he imagined he was hearing.

  There it was again.

  A woman’s voice drifting over the howling of the wind, calling his name.

  Damn.

  Melora.

  He had to ignore her call. He could not help her until he fed. He was much too dangerous to be anywhere near her.

  Then the wind shifted, and another scent came to him.

  A man.

  Frederick Dawes.

  Instinct drove Sebastian. Suddenly, he could think of nothing but Melora. He needed to get to her. To keep her safe. It was his promise, he told himself. He was honor-bound after promising to protect her. He needed to keep his word. He chose not to delve any deeper into this instinctual need to find her, protect her, make her his.

  He abandoned his temporary feast, and the sleeping deer was given a reprieve. It would be safe from him for now.

  The man, however, might not be so lucky.

  Chapter Six

  “Sebastian!” Melora called, blinking against the snow blowing in her face. She had followed in the direction she had seen both Mr. Dawes and Sebastian take on entering the forest, but once she had walked far enough, trudging through the snow and leaning into the biting wind, she found herself lost. Any footprints that had been here were wiped away by the wind. She reached out with her amulet, letting the light from the spell she had cast on it illuminate the thick forest she had stumbled into.

  What a fool she had been! What a fool to think she might protect him. And now she called to him, and she cursed herself for a greater fool. She was cold and frightened. Every direction looked the same. Every which way she turned, the same darkness welcomed her. Even when she had turned to follow her footsteps back to the house, she had been shocked to discover they had disappeared, as well. It was as if the dark forest was engulfing her, wrapping its crooked limbs around her, waiting for her to give up so it could fold in upon her, claiming her for itself.

  It was this sudden and irrational fear that made her call him. And each time she screamed his name, she felt a stab of betrayal in her heart. She would be the doom of this man. She would be the cause of his demise, and yet her fear was so strong she couldn’t bring herself to surrender to it. She fought and yearned for him to reach her in time. To save her from herself.

  But Frederick Dawes was listening. Sebastian was not the only one who heard her screams of terror.

  God! What had she been thinking? She was terrified of such darkness, such wilderness. She could imagine the glowing eyes of every creature living in the forest, opening to watch her, to wait for her to fall, and then they would be upon her in an instant. Her heart started to pound as those imaginary eyes stared at her, chilling her, frightening her so that she could not think coherently anymore.

  There was only one thing she could focus on, one person who would abate this fear.

  Sebastian.

  She started running as the panic became too much. She ran, not paying attention to the scrapes of the bare tree limbs that became fingernails. She screamed again as they tugged at her hair, her cloak, her arms and dress. Her legs became entangled in some brush, and she cried fat tears which turned to ice on her cheeks.

  “Stop! Stop!” she screamed. She didn’t know if she was screaming at the creatures clawing at her legs or at herself for imagining them. It was terrifying, this uncontrollable fear, this madness of panic clutching her in its grip.

  She heard her name whispered along the moaning of the wind through the trees. As one fear was freed from where she kept it contained, another fear quickly joined it.

  Uncle Arden.

  He had found her.

  Somehow, he had tracked her. He had used magic to find her. Now he would take her away from Sebastian. He would take her away and force her to marry some decrepit old man who would take her freedom and her sanity.

  “Sebastian…Sebastian…” She sobbed his name, running again. She blinked her eyes against the wind, barely able to acknowledge her fear of the forest anymore, now that the fear of her uncle had overridden it. She had to get away before he could find her. Before she led him to Sebastian. She crashed into a wall. She gasped and struggled when the wall collapsed around her, enclosing her in its cold embrace. The wall had arms, strong, locking around her, pinning her in place, keeping her prisoner.

  “Melora!”

  Through the fog of her panic, Sebastian’s voice penetrated her brain. She ceased her struggles and tilted her head up to see his beautiful face frowning down at her.

  “The…the…” she said, but she was unable to communicate to him her fears, her panic. “Mr. Dawes…m-my uncle…”

  “You should not have followed me.”

  She shook her head, the pounding of her blood slowing down now that he was here just where she wanted him, with his arms wrapped securely around her. He would protect her, keep her safe.

  But how could she keep him safe? She was a simple witch. She didn’t have the powers or skills her uncle possessed. She shouldn’t be anywhere near Sebastian… And yet…she never wanted to part from him ever again. It was madness, this craving she had for him, this desperate need to be with him.

  She leaned her cheek against his cold chest, sighing as relief flooded her at the contact. She felt his rumbling groan vibrate against her cheek. With her eyes closed, she smiled. She was in the arms of a vampire. And she was certain she was in the safest place she could ever be.

  Safer than anywhere in the world.

  “Melora,” he growled his normally satin voice now harshly graveled with pain. He panted heavily. His arms wrapped around her, keeping her close, now tightened.

  Something was wrong.

  She could sense something shift within him. She looked up, expecting to see he had given up his fight for control. He needed blood, and she knew there was nowhere he needed to go but to her. She tilted her neck imperceptibly, offering her blood.

  But when she looked into his face she saw fear there instead. He looked over her head at something behind her.

  As she turned around to follow his gaze, he shoved her to the snowy ground. She caught sight of Frederick Dawes, a pistol firing in one hand, as she fell. The flash of gunpowder lit the dark clearing, and a scream lodged in her throat when she saw Sebastian jerk back, stumbling against a tree trunk.

  “No!” she screamed, struggling with the wet folds of her dress as she got to her feet. She reached him in time to catch him around his chest as he slid from the tree. Snow clung to her eyelashes, blurring her vision as she lowered him onto the cold ground.

  She saw the hole in his jacket, ripped apart by the bullet lodged in the center of his chest. Had it pierced his heart? She didn’t know. She couldn’t tell. Could vampires be killed with a bullet to the heart? Again, she didn’t know. She knew so very little about vampires.

  She choked on a sob when she saw him tilt his head to look at her. The fear was gone from his eyes. There was peace there now. He had surrendered.

  “It’s better this way,” he told her, the growling vanished from his voice. Instead, he spoke with the same silkiness she had first heard from him. His hand brushed her cheek, wiping the frozen tears clinging to her skin. “I could not have lived with myself for murdering you.”

  “No,” she cried. She ripped open his jacket to place her hand over his wound, to staunch the blood, but was surprised to see none. When she looked into his eyes, searching for an answer to her silent question, she heard the answer crunching the snow under his boot as he advanced.

  “Stand aside, Miss Merriweather,” Frederick Dawes said brusquely. “The job is not done until he has
a stake through his heart, and his head cut from his neck.”

  Understanding dawned, and she sat up, leaning away from Sebastian as she turned to face the vampire hunter standing over him.

  She looked up into his face. It was a kind face. A face showing concern for her welfare and delight over his capture. He thought to protect her from a monster, she reasoned, even as she suppressed the first murderous rage she had ever experienced. Sebastian’s hands tightened over hers as if in warning.

  She opened her mouth, ready to cast a horrifying spell over the man, ready to destroy her soul to spew black magic from her mouth. The rage she felt toward him nearly overpowered her, but the pressure she felt on her hand, Sebastian’s presence, brought calm over her. It helped her see reason.

  He wasn’t dying, as she had thought. He was a vampire, after all. And he was waiting for the hunter to kill him.

  “I’m tired,” Sebastian said softly, as if in explanation. “I can control it no longer.”

  Understanding slipped into her mind. He tried to protect her still, with his death. He feared his hunger. He feared it enough to destroy himself to keep her safe.

  Melora took a deep breath and whispered the incantation she’d spoken earlier to debilitate the Morrisons. As she said it for the second time, it slipped easily from her lips and she didn’t need such concentration as before.

  Frederick Dawes’s weapons slid from his suddenly slack fingers and dropped onto the snow-cushioned ground. He stumbled back and leaned against the trunk of a tree. Then he slid down, his head drooping over. A heavy snore followed.

  She turned back to Sebastian, the disappointment clear in his face as he realized what she had done. He closed his eyes, turning his face away from her.

  A sigh escaped her lips as she traced one finger along his cold white cheek, marveling at the tiny shocks that trembled through her hands at the contact.

  “I’m afraid,” he muttered, turning back to look at her. “I will kill you.”

  She shook her head. “You won’t. I trust you.”

  “I do not.”

  She leaned down to place her lips on his, thrilling at the feel of his cold lips against hers. “I won’t let you,” she told him, smiling into his mouth. “I’m a witch, you know. I can stop you if I have to.”

  When she tilted her head back, she saw the understanding brighten his blue eyes. Trust and hope flared in his eyes, and she was amazed at how innocent he looked as he slowly sat up, curling her into his embrace. He seemed like a young boy, unsure but willing to allow her to lead him into the dark unknown.

  “I do not know if I’ll have the strength to stop. Are you certain you can stop me before…?” He asked, unwilling to complete the thought. He leaned over her, nuzzling her cheek, taking deep gulping breaths, inhaling her scent. His hands trembled as he held her. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight against her.

  “Yes,” she breathed, tilting her head to the side, allowing him easier access to the vein pulsing in her neck.

  He paused only a moment more, and then kissed her throat. His tenderness warmed her. The gentleness in his touch awed her. He suffered so much. He had hungered for so long, and yet he found the strength to gently ease his bloodlust upon her. With another tender kiss, she felt the piercing of his teeth puncturing her skin.

  She stiffened at the intrusion, but the pain only lasted a moment. In its place came liquid warmth spreading through her veins, traveling along her skin and acting as an aphrodisiac. She trembled in his arms as she felt him sucking the blood from her throat.

  He groaned in bliss as he fed. With one arm supporting her, the other caressed her, stroking her hair, her cheek, down along her arm and then onto her back.

  She clung to him, letting the warmth fill her. The desire she had felt for him blossomed anew at such an intimate contact. She cursed the fact that they lay in the snow instead of the comfort of a bed with a roaring fire just beyond.

  He paused as if sensing her thoughts. He lifted his head, breaking from his feast to stare briefly into her eyes.

  “You taste…” he whispered, hoarsely. “I’ve never tasted such…” She smiled at his awe, and with one hand pushed his head back to her throat. He continued feeding, and she marveled at the sensation, until she felt the beginnings of disorientation.

  It was time to stop. He was taking too much.

  “Enough,” she whispered.

  He did not stop. Instead, he nuzzled her neck and drank more.

  “Stop,” she said her voice louder this time.

  His shoulders trembled with effort, but he pulled away before she cast the spell to knock him from her.

  He pulled back, keeping her propped up in his arms but with enough distance between them she would have warning if he should try to feed more. His eyes were open wide, a dazed lethargy filming them. He turned to her, staring at her.

  “I have never tasted anything like it before,” he said. “Such sweetness.” He closed his eyes in ecstasy over the memory. “It feels as if I’ve been empty all of my life until now.”

  His words echoed her own feelings for him. She opened her mouth to say as much, but he stood, pulling her into his arms. The world spun for one uncomfortable moment, and she clutched at his jacket and shirt.

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “I took too much,” he said, regret spilling into his voice.

  She tried to shake her head, to deny it, but they were moving now. She felt him running, and she buried her face into his neck, breathing in the musk of his skin. She must have lost consciousness at some point, because the next moment she felt him lowering her into the softness of a bed. He began undressing her in a methodical manner, stripping her of her wet clothes.

  Her eyes flickered open. She saw the worry in his face as he regarded her.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered, trying to reassure him. “I just need to rest for a moment.”

  He nodded, not believing her. He finished taking all, but her shift from her now trembling body. He gathered the blankets around her, tucking her into the bed like a child. When he pulled away, she reached out to grab his hand.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll return in a moment,” he said, soothing her. “I left Frederick Dawes out there. As much as I despise him, I cannot let him die in the cold.”

  She nodded her understanding, releasing him. She closed her eyes.

  “It won’t take long, I promise.”

  She felt his lips on her forehead, and then he was gone. She fell asleep before he left the room.

  ****

  Sebastian acknowledged vampires were the best kind of hunter. Although he was well aware of the location he had left Frederick Dawes, his nose could have found the man in a crowded ballroom back in London. Each human had a distinct scent, which made tracking quite easy.

  Even in a snowstorm.

  Dawes was right where he’d left him. Sebastian felt no guilt for leaving him in the snow while he cared for Melora. After her sacrifice, she deserved every comfort imaginable.

  He leaned over the unconscious man and inhaled sharply. He need not reach out to check his pulse. He could still smell the blood pumping through the sleeping man’s drowsy veins. Sebastian had not been long in taking Melora to the warmth and safety of Caldwell House. Dawes had been in no danger of freezing.

  He reached out to lift the man, aware now that with Melora’s blood filling him completely, he felt no desire to feed on such easy prey. He offered a silent prayer of thanks to her for the gift she had given him.

  Before his hands touched Dawes’s shoulder, Sebastian froze.

  His hand.

  Sebastian blinked. He could see his hand.

  He moved his fingers, examining them closely. He could see each digit with a clarity he could barely remember from a time before his vampirism came upon him. The world had been a blur ever since, and he had nearly no recollection of the contrast of such objects, of the clear and concise line of such a thing as a han
d. He looked away from his fingers to see Dawes, to really see him. He examined the buttons on his jacket, the quality of the cloth.

  How had this happened?

  Even before Sebastian could think on it for too long, he knew the answer as it flowed through his veins.

  Melora’s blood.

  A witch’s blood. Some hidden quality in her blood gave him the power to correct his only weakness. His failed eyesight. Perhaps a bit of…magic?

  He grinned.

  When Sebastian returned to Caldwell House with the unconscious and frozen Frederick Dawes in his arms, he was glad none of the servants had been aroused with the goings on of their vampire employer and his potential murderers. Some of them knew of his circumstances and were aware of his aversion to drinking blood from those he knew. They were safe enough. But now he had to contend with a house full of vampire hunters. As he turned into the hall containing the guest rooms where he planned to deposit Mr. Dawes, he wondered how long the sleeping spell would keep them unconscious.

  How much time until he needed to battle for his life?

  For Melora’s life?

  For his right to exist.

  His question was answered the moment his gaze fell upon the figure standing in the shadows of the guest room. He froze, aware of the sudden danger. Her scent was muffled in a cloak she must have stolen from his rooms. If he hadn’t seen her, he might not have smelled her blood in time, since she was masking it with his own scent.

  He acknowledged grimly that she was skilled at her occupation.

  And she pointed a pistol at him.

  “I mean you no harm,” he said, softly. He tried to look as non-threatening as possible, but realized it was hopeless with an unconscious man in his arms. A man who was her friend.

  “Is he dead?” Tatya asked, taking a step out of the shadows and into the flickering candlelight from the hallway. His cloak slipped from her shoulders to pool at her feet.