Suck It Up
by Charissa Dufour
2014 by Charissa Dufour
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Chapter One: Suck in Place
Mikhail Bartrey blinked the sleep from his eyes, slowing taking in his surroundings. It took him a minute to remember why he was sleeping on the damp ground, rather than in his bedroom with his father’s snores drifting in from the one other bedroom in their tiny house. Slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. By the dim gray light of the early morning, Mikhail could see his loaded wagon and cart horse, diligently protected by his faithful dog. The animal lifted its head and let its tongue loll out of its mouth in a toothy, canine grin. Mikhail felt his lips pull up into a smile as he forced himself onto his feet.
Another long day of travel should see him to Pskov, the nearest city to his father’s small farm. His laden cart was piled high with burlap bags filled with crops: barley, rye, and apples—both dried and fresh. In the back portion of the cart, behind the strapped down bags, lounged a fat pig, her tits large and numerous from having just weened her latest passel of piglets. Tethered to the back of the cart waited a young heifer. Overall, his cargo would bring a large pile of coins at the market in Pskov, but the cost to the farm’s production would be great.
I need the money though, Mikhail thought as he folded up his blanket and tossed it over the back of the cart. He would forgo his breakfast today in exchange for an early start. It would take him too long to coax life back into the banked embers, much less boil the oats.
The sooner he could get to Pskov and sell his goods the sooner he could buy the ring. Then she would be his for good! All they waited on was the ring, and his father had been generous enough considering he was willing to part with a young heifer and a grown pig to allow his son to marry. Mikhail swore to himself that he wouldn’t complain about any ration cutting that took place this winter. He would have a wife, and that was all that mattered.
The village thought they were chyort fools for marrying so young, but Mikhail and his father knew better, as did Nina and her parents. Both families realized that Mikhail and Nina would eventually wed, whether it was now at seventeen and fifteen, or if it was after Mikhail reached his majority. Nina’s parents also realized that Mikhail’s father would not last that long. It was a wonder he had lived this long with the lung disease. Four more years would be a miracle. But if Mikhail married, he would be able to inherit his father’s farm, despite his lack of years.
Mikhail hugged the thought of Nina’s pretty face to his frozen body as he harnessed the horse. His mind ran to her soft curves and long skirts. He pondered what was hidden under the folds of her skirt and felt a blush warm his chilled face. Mikhail wondered if he would need to ask his father about the wedding night, but decided to worry about that later.
There wouldn’t be a wedding night if he didn’t get to Pskov and sell their merchandise.
Mikhail began to lead the horse, letting his dog race ahead a few lengths. The hyper animal knew when to turn and race back to its slower companions without needing Mikhail to call it back, leaving Mikhail plenty of time to think.
Over the last month, as his father had negotiated with Nina’s parents, Mikhail had been sick with worry. If they didn’t let him marry Nina early he would lose the farm on his father’s death, meaning he would never be able to marry Nina. He would be an outcast in his own village, seeking work on some other man’s farm, and Nina would marry someone else. Mikhail felt the old worry build in his chest as he pushed his curly brown hair out of his eyes.
He needed a haircut.
Until Nina’s parents had given him their blessing, he had feared the worst would happen. He wasn’t concerned about his own future of living without his family’s farm, but feared for Nina. If they weren’t able to wed, she would have to marry someone she didn’t love, didn’t trust. It was her future that kept him up at nights. She was such a gentle spirit. He knew being married to a high-handed man would crush her.
And the other man in line for her hand was high-handed if nothing else.
Anatoliy might be the richest farmer in their village, but he was a bully. Nina despised him. She had told Mikhail so just a few short weeks ago. Finally, in a fit of desperation, Nina had gone to her parents and begged them to let her marry Mikhail.
The curly haired lad smiled to himself.
It was her begging that had tipped the scales. Though her parents, like any parents, wanted her to have the brightest future she could, they would not force her to marry a man she hated. They would allow her to have a say in the decision.
Mikhail’s smile grew. He wanted to be parents like them when the time came.
Such pleasant thoughts helped Mikhail continue the long walk on to Pskov. Late that evening he stumbled into the large town. It was almost a city.
The streets were still filled with merchants, wives, and less savory women. Briefly, Mikhail wondered if it would be worth the coin to practice on one of those women… just to be prepared for the coming wedding night. He had barely finished the thought before rejecting it. He would rather save himself for his bride than waste himself on a whore.
Mikhail lowered his eyes and continued on to the market. Even with the sun set, the large square was teaming with activity.
What must it be like to live in this place? he wondered as his eyes jumped from one sight to another. And to think, Kiev is even bigger.
Mikhail felt the old longing to see the wide world emerge, but he forced it back down. Seeing the world wouldn’t protect Nina, nor would it give his father the satisfaction of knowing the family farm had passed on to another Bartrey.
It didn’t take Mikhail long to purchase a booth in the market place, and even less time to sell off the hog. If the rest of his goods sold as quickly, he would be on his way home the day after tomorrow.
It was never to happen.
The next day went smoothly, and by the time the sun set, he had sold off all his wares. Mikhail pocketed the money and made his way to the jeweler. Though there were plenty of fancy bands, he knew he couldn’t afford to use up all the money he had just made. Some of it had to go to the supplies he needed to fix the crumbling stone wall that surrounded the kitchen garden and replace a few of the pots and pans that were near the point of leaking. He couldn’t expect his new bride to cook his meals in leaking pans. Besides, some coin should be set aside for the coming winter.
Mikhail looked over what the elderly man had ready for purchase and chose a simple band without ornamentation. He felt a wave of guilt as he pocketed the little leather pouch. Nina deserved better. Anatoliy could have bought her one of the bands with three different metals all wrapping around each other.
But Anatoliy wouldn’t love her, a voice in his head reminded him.
Mikhail didn’t think he loved her now, but he knew he would in time. Whatever he felt for Nina was as deep as their friendship was long. They had grown up getting into trouble together and annoying their mothers. Mikhail didn’t have a memory that didn’t include Nina. They had been attached at the hip since she had learned to walk.
Whatever the emotion was that made his heart beat quicker, it was more than Anatoliy felt. Anatoliy wanted a prize to place on his mantle, a servant to cook for him, and a brood mare to provide a family for him. Nina, being the most beautiful girl in the villa
ge and one of the best cooks, could do all that for Anatoliy.
Mikhail grinned to himself as his fingers wrapped around the leather pouch in his pocket.
Nina could do all that for Anatoliy, but she wouldn’t. She would do it for Mikhail, and not because her parents forced her to, but because she wanted to. She wanted Mikhail, and that thought made him want her more.
His smile vanished as he bumped into a body, sending the person sprawling on the ground.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to help the lad up from the ground.
The boy kept his face tilted down, his grubby cap hiding his features as he scrambled to his feet, ignoring Mikhail’s outstretched hand.
“Are you all right, chuvak?” Mikhail asked.
The boy mumbled something and scurried down a dark alleyway, giving Mikhail the briefest look at his face. Mikhail blinked. Either he was going insane or that boy was no boy. Without thinking, Mikhail turned to follow the girl.
More than curious, he was worried. What would make a young lady dress up like a boy?
If the mob found her out, she would be shunned. Women just didn’t go around dressing like boys, period.
Though Mikhail had long, strong legs, he struggled to keep up with the sprightly girl. He followed past a few twists and turns, finally catching her in a dead end. The girl turned, flashing frightened eyes at him.
“Don’t be afraid, chuvak,” he said in a gentle voice, his hands held up to show that they were empty of any sort of weapon. “I just want to help.”
The girl swallowed. “You can’t help. Please, get away from me.”
“You hungry?” he asked.
The girl squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed again.
“I’ve got food in the market. I can at least give you a good meal and some fresh water,” Mikhail continued, taking her silence as encouragement.
She shook her head. “Please, go away,” she whispered.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
The girl—or lady rather, he had finally seen the lines of her face and realized she was not a child—turned away from him and thumped her head against the brick wall. Mikhail took a few quick steps toward her, wanting to keep her from doing herself harm.
“Don’t do that!” he cried.
He had just reached her when she turned back, glaring up at him with such fire that he took a step back.
“Leave me alone!” she growled, sounding more like a beast than a human.
Mikhail swallowed the fear rising up inside. He wanted to obey, wanted desperately to turn and leave her to her fate, but he couldn’t. She was in need of someone’s help, and the morals of his father’s teachings wouldn’t allow him to leave her in a dark alley in the middle of the night.
“Please let me…” he began but never finished his sentence.
The woman completed her turn in a rush, grabbing his shoulders and bringing his head down as though she was going to kiss him.
“Der'mó!” he cried as he toppled forward and felt something sharp dig into neck.
Mikhail tried to pull himself out of her grasp, but found her to be unusually strong. He gave his effort a little more strength, but couldn’t shake her hands from his shoulders. The pain in his neck increased. Mikhail turned his head slightly only to see the woman’s hat fall from her head and a wealth of golden-brown hair tumble down her shoulders. With this sight, Mikhail realized the pain was coming from her. She was biting him.
His legs began to shake with blood loss and he slowly sank to the ground, her mouth still attached to his neck. Just as he began to fade into blissful darkness the pain in his neck subsided.
“Oh no!” the woman cried out. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
Slowly Mikhail became aware of his surroundings. He felt a hard wall against his back and the rocky ground beneath his backside. He didn’t want to continue to wake up, but his last memory came rushing back to him.
Mikhail’s eyes flew open. He felt a small hand on his arm, shaking him. Mikhail jerked it away and glared at the woman.
“What have you done to me?” he asked before he could check himself.
The woman swallowed again. “I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I didn’t mean to. I told you to leave, but you wouldn’t.”
“You bit me!”
“I turned you,” she countered.
“Turned me?”
“Into a vampire. C’mon. We have to hide before the sun rises.”
Mikhail looked up at the sky, suddenly realizing it was turning the soft gray of morning. How long had he slept?
“What’re you talking about?”
“Please! If we stay out here we will die. Please hide with me.”
“I have to fetch my cart and get home.”
“You can’t,” she insisted, sounding more like a ten-years old than the mid-twenties he gaged her to be. “The sun hurts!”
“What is this nonsense? How can the sun hurt?”
“It hurts us. Us vampires. Please,” she added, shaking the arm she still held.
He jerked his hand out of her grasp, the movement blurring before his eyes. Mikhail blinked furiously before swiping his arm across his vision again. Like before, his arm shifted faster than his eyes could focus on it.
“See?” the petite woman said before taking his hand in hers. “I’ll explain everything, but for now, we have to hide, dúra,” she muttered to herself, prickling his pride.
“Fine,” Mikhail grumbled, not liking being called an idiot. “Once we’ve hidden you’ll tell me what is wrong with me.”
“Yes!”
The woman gripped his hand tighter and broke out into a run. Before he knew what was happening, Mikhail was hurtling along behind her, having no trouble keeping up with her break-neck speed. She made a few turns before sliding to stop outside a boarded up building. From the smell, Mikhail thought it had once been a stable or a farriers. The woman took hold of a roughhewn board, crudely nailed across the door and tore it off the building.
Mikhail jumped back, shocked at her display of strength.
The stranger looked more like a thirteen or fourteen year old boy rather than a grown woman. She barely came up to his chest, with spindly little arms and a flat chest. It was physically impossible for her to have torn the board from the building. Mikhail doubted he would have managed the feat himself.
He ducked into the dark interior, surprised to find that he could see easily despite the lack of light. As the smell had suggested, the inside of the two story building was a large stable. The old hay on the ground looked as though it had sat and molded for at least two winters. The half walls creating the stalls were only in minimally-better condition than the exterior of the building.
Mikhail spotted a lamp hanging from a central rafter and went to see if by some miracle it had oil in it.
“Don’t,” said the woman as she pulled the rotting door shut.
“Why not?”
“You really think we should be here?” she asked as she wound her hair up over her head and replaced her hat.
Mikhail shrugged. “Ready to explain?”
The woman sighed. “I’m Sabina. What’s your name?”
“Mikhail Bartrey.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sabina said from her place by the door. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
“What was?”
“Me turning you into a vampire.”
“There’s no such thing as vampires.” Even in the darkness, Mikhail could see her roll her eyes, making him reconsider his statement.
“I was starving. I have trouble controlling myself, so I try not to feed. Then you came. You wouldn’t leave, and your heart was racing. When I realized what I’d done, you were about to die, so I turned you rather than letting you die.” Sabina paused. “I should have just let you die.”
Mikhail frowned, trying his best to approach the conversation as if he believed what she was saying. “Why?”
“You’ll see,”
she said, sounding despondent.
It wasn’t long before the sun rose above the buildings, streaming into their hiding space between the gaps in the boards, and Mikhail learned what she meant. A ray of light reached his leg and within seconds the rough wool of his breaches began to smoke.
“Ow!” he exclaimed, patting at the burning spot on his leg.
Instantly, the back of his hand began to sizzle and boil under the sun’s ray. Mikhail rolled away from the ray of sunlight, into a darker portion of the derelict building. He looked down at his hand, watching his burned flesh heal into a grueling scar.
“See what I mean?” Sabina asked, eyeing him from her safe corner. “Vampires burn in the sun.”
Mikhail blinked, looking from her to her hand repeatedly. Eventually Sabina lowered her eyes to his outstretched hand and frowned.
“It should have healed all the way. Strannyy.”
Mikhail looked down at the faint scar still marring the back of his hand, even after seventy-some-odd years. A soft crunching sound alerted him to Sabina’s approach. She emerged from the clearing and looked down over the valley farm. In their long years together, Mikhail had brought a calm, steady guidance to her existence. She still wouldn’t wear dresses like a proper lady, though they had plenty of coin for it, but she would sleep in a bed and drink without killing. It was an improvement from what he had found when he had first met her.
Mikhail smiled to himself, even though his heart ached a little. In every way that mattered, Mikhail was the leader of their group, even though he was nearly twenty years younger than her. Even with all the time they had had together, Mikhail had never gotten Sabina to tell him how she had been turned. He suspected she wasn’t entirely sure.
Whatever had happened had left her with only half her mind. Mikhail didn’t mind. Even with half her mind gone, she was a gracious, loving friend. As was her way, Sabina slipped her hand into his and leaned her head against his arm. He looked down at her and forced his lips up into a brighter smile.
“We shouldn’t be here,” she said, rolling her gaze back onto the prosperous farm spread out below them.
“I know. I just need a moment.” He gave her a little kiss on the forehead. “Why don’t you go back to the carriage? I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
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