Arc 5: Chapter 19: Fear, and Hunger

    After seeing to Emma and Hendry, I found another room in the same hall as theirs on the second floor. Fully furnished and clean, I noted a distinct lack of brass pipes. They seemed to be in some rooms, but not others.

    Catrin had said very little, her normal gregariousness giving way to a pensive distance. I’d kept my silence about the encounter with Laertes when we’d checked on the younger members of our quartet. Hendry told me he’d keep guard over Emma, who seemed irritated by the whole thing but hadn’t had the energy to argue much.

    Though I was loath to leave myself defenseless for even a moment, I decided to wash myself and clean my gear. Phantasmal muck still coated my axe, armor, and cloak, and I took an hour or so to scrub all of it off. Most of it faded into nonexistence as I did, but even still the sight of aura lingering in a physical state reminded me where I was. I used the washroom for my own body, tense and anxious of ambush the whole time.

    The Count’s manse had running water, probably pumped up from the same source as the moat. I normally wouldn’t trust any water in the Wend, but it gave off no alarm bells to either my physical or spiritual senses.

    I’d just finished folding my cloak and hauberk on the foot of the bed when that lonely quiet was finally disturbed. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and a subtle warning from my powers. I’d leaned my axe against the bedpost after shaving its handle down. Instinctively, I reached for it.

    “It’s me,” a quiet voice said.

    I’d lit some candles in the room, leaving deep shadows in several spots. Catrin stepped out of one of them, adjusting her hair before folding her arms. Her gestures didn’t have their usual energy. She seemed subdued and uncomfortable.

    “I’d have just knocked,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “But I didn’t really want to be in the hallways alone. This place...”

    She shook her head. “I don’t like it here. So we’re stuck until morning?”

    I nodded, moving around to the foot of the bed to sit against the frame. “Yes.”

    “And then?” She asked, still keeping a distance as though ready to leap back into the darkness she’d emerged from at any moment.

    “I tell the Count what I want,” I said. “And he tells me what it’s going to cost me. Probably with some more power games and verbal sparring, which I will endure.”

    “Heh.” Catrin’s smile seemed more genuine then. “You mentioned Karog. I was kind of out of it upstairs. Give me the whole thing?”

    I told her about the entire encounter with the Count. By the time I’d finished, Catrin was shaking her head with an exasperated frown.

    “Karog... ever since he tried to kill you at the inn last winter, he’s been an enigma. I can’t tell if he’s on our side or if he’ll end up ripping all our heads off.”

    “Our side?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I’m a knight of the realms. You’re a... hm.”

    “Damsel of darkness?” Catrin asked, as though trying the phrase out.

    I grimaced. Catrin batted my reaction away with a lazy wave of her sharp nails.

    I studied her a moment, searching for the right words. Despite the attempts at banter, I knew she wasn’t well. I’d seen her in the grip of meloncholy before, especially when it came to her history and nature. Laertes had picked at a festering wound.

    I noticed some details as I considered how to address it, or whether I should address it. She’d brushed the ringlets out of her hair, leaving it in a lazy messy of curls. It hid the slight points in her ears, but did little for the thinness of her cheeks, or the shadows under her eyes, especially since she’d wiped all the makeup off. I realized the powder hadn’t been meant to make her look fairer, in the habit of some nobles and women in Catrin’s profession. Without it, her pale skin had a very slight tinge of gray, with visible veins beneath. She looked pallid.

    She looked like an hours old corpse. Still pretty, but faded. Her hair had almost no red in it now, just an ashy brown, and her eyes were dark and listless.

    “Go ahead and say it,” Catrin said. She hadn’t missed my staring. “I look awful.”

    Rather than jumping into a denial, I took in more details. She still wore the chiton from the inn. It only had one strap, so it fell off the left shoulder, with a sash running across the line of that gap to hug her left bicep. The dress was white, the sash red, and a very thin belt — little more than a cord — wrapped twice around her waist.

    She’d hung Shivers from that belt in a leather sheath decorated with little green tassels, making the fell armament seem almost cute. That was very her, and it made me smile inside.

    I wanted to make a quip, redirect the conversation, find some way to comfort her. But I knew that wouldn’t help her.

    “When was the last time you fed?” I asked quietly.

    She glanced at me, then away. “Why do you ask?”

    “Because I’m worried about you.”

    Catrin stepped over to the room’s wardrobe and leaned her back against it. She didn’t sigh or fidget much, or do any of the subtle, thoughtless things people tend to do when they’re thinking, talking, or just idling. When she did, it had a deliberate quality. Even her breaths looked thought out, and she seemed to forget every few minutes, lapsing into an uncanny stillness.

    I didn’t push her. Minutes passed before she spoke again.

    “The last time was with you,” she finally admitted.

    I took that in, doing the math. She’d refused to drink my blood when we’d lain together the night of the Culling, which meant it had been the time before that.

    “Cat, that was nearly two weeks ago.”

    She shrugged. “Was it? I wasn’t keeping track of the days.”

    “Why?” I asked. “Is it... because of me? Because of us?”

    Catrin blinked, and this time it didn’t seem deliberate. “What? Wait, when Eilidh talked to you earlier, was that what she said?”

    I nodded. “She thought I’d made you stop.”

    Catrin’s expression softened. “No, Al. It’s not because of you. Well... maybe there’s a bit of that.”

    “I never wanted you to hurt yourself over us,” I said, feeling miserable. “Over me.”

    “It’s not what you think,” Catrin insisted in a regretful voice. “Yeah, I stopped taking as much from my customers because... well...”

    She hedged. “It’s embarrassing.”

    When I tilted my head at her, she hastily explained.

    “It made it better. With you.” Catrin laughed quietly. “It sounds lame, but I’m used to getting people off, Alken. With you, you’re interested in me enjoying it. I get men who do that sometimes, but it’s mostly an ego trip on their part. For you it’s...”

    She searched for words a moment. “More honest, I guess?”

    “I’m not sure I understand,” I admitted, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the topic but not wanting her to clam up again.

    “I was fasting because being hungrier, having more bloodlust, it made our times together more exciting.” Catrin’s smile had an apologetic tint. “It made me angrier, more impatient, but I never felt like that threatened you, so it felt safe. It was fun waiting for that satisfaction, I guess.”

    I nodded. “I think I can understand that. Like having a feast after a week of tourney.”

    “Sure,” Catrin said. “Though, if I’d really feasted you’d be dead.”

    I shrugged. “But that’s not why you’ve been starving yourself. This seems different.” I studied her corpse-like complexion.

    Catrin’s mood turned dour again, and she tucked her hands under her arms. “It’s hard to explain.”

    I nodded, keeping my own arms loose and open. “I’m willing to hear it, if you want to talk.”

    She was quiet so long, I wasn’t sure she would. When she did speak, her voice was nearly a whisper.

    “I’ve trusted you,” I reminded her. “Trust me, now.”

    I saw her self control fracture. Perhaps that was cruel of me, but I would not let her kill herself over this fear. Was she a monster? Perhaps. But hardly a worse one than me. I still remembered what she’d told me that night of the festival.

    I love you, Alken. I’m here for you.

    I had spilled plenty of blood in my life. I could give some of my own to help someone I loved.

    We sat together on the bed. Catrin’s eyes were distant, unfocused. I brushed her hair back from one pointed ear and spoke in a gentle voice.

    “Where do you want to do it?”

    She licked her lips, the motion one of nervousness rather than anticipation. Her tongue looked oddly gray. Perhaps the dim lighting, but I wasn’t sure. Her hands reached out, cool fingers feeling at my wrist, my arm, my chest. Like a blind woman trying to memorize my features, she touched my neck and shoulders, traced the contours of my jaw. She did it all without looking at me.

    Finally, her hand drifted back down to my left arm, sharp nails lingering above the elbow.

    “Here,” she said. “Can it be here?”

    The first place she’d taken from me. I smiled. “Sure.”

    I had her lay down across my lap, so her body stretched across the side of the bed. Her white dress made the posture seem elegant, like a lady reclining for an artist’s brush.

    I took a deep breath, flexing my fingers several times. I wanted to keep my heart calm.

    “You don’t have to do this,” Catrin told me quietly. “I’d have caved at the inn before much longer.”

    “Do you want it to be someone else?” I asked her.

    Her face went steely. “No. I want your thoughts in my veins.”

    I offered my arm. She took it, pulled the crook of my elbow close to her mouth, and inhaled deeply.

    I tensed when she bit down. There was no numbness to it, no unnatural pleasure. It hurt, and kept hurting, but I made myself relax. Catrin remained gentle for some time, taking small gulps while her teeth applied only so much pressure as they needed to.

    After a while, however, I felt her tongue pressing against the wounds with more force. She grew impatient, taking from me faster. When her jaws tightened, threatening to tear a more grievous wound than I felt strictly necessary, I muttered a warning. “Careful.”

    She grunted, a frustrated sound, and dug her nails into my flesh as though wary of me pulling her prize away. I grit my teeth while she started to writhe along the side of the bed, the thin silk of her dress rustling as her legs slid together beneath the material. Her bare shoulder made slow, small circles as her whole body moved in time with her swallows.

    I closed my eyes and waited, measuring my own heartbeat while she tasted its pulse.

    Unexpectedly, Catrin pulled away on her own well before I would have made her stop. Free of her lips, a line of my blood ran down my forearm. But she didn’t look any better. Her red eyes blazed with unsatisfied hunger as she lifted herself into a seated position next to me.

    “It’s not enough,” she growled in a furious voice.

    “You can take more,” I said in confusion.

    Her hand reached out to grasp me by the back of my head, and not gently. “That’s not what I mean.”

    She pulled my face to hers in a fierce kiss. She tasted of my own blood. A life of violence had made me used to that taste, and I relaxed into the kiss at first. That is, until a bright flash of pain erupted in my lower lip.

    I jerked back, taken off guard, but she followed me with aggressive fervor. I felt her tongue digging into my mouth, her teeth tugging at my cut lip, threatening to worsen the wound.

    Frustrated, I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her away. She barely seemed to register it, her eyes wide and unblinking as they bore into mine with an almost mad lust.

    “I want you inside me.”

    I was breathing hard, pain throbbing through my lip with every beat of my heart. Catrin barely breathed at all. There was no flush on her cheeks, no pulse through her skin. She was still, focused. It unsettled me.

    It did more than unsettle me.

    Setting my jaw, I tugged at the cord belting her waist until it came free, then tossed it and her dagger to the floor. She undid the laces on my shirt with quick, practiced motions. Our movements gained haste, both of us impatient.

    How had this happened? I’d meant to just let her feed on me, help her get some self control back. But then she’d kissed me, and...

    To hell with it.

    Such a strange damsel you have chosen to guard.

    Vermin and maggots have had their way with her.

    I needed to drown the Count’s voice out.

    “You hear him too?” Catrin asked in a breathless voice. One of us, perhaps both of us, had gotten her dress hitched up. She straddled me, ready.

    She had my blood in her now, and my thoughts. No point lying.

    “I don’t care about him,” I growled.

    Something fierce flashed in Catrin’s eyes. “Prove it.”

    Her grip tightened. I thrust once to the sound of her sharp inhale. Our hands found each other, the fingers locking together as we moved at a fast increasing pace.

    “You’re a bad knight,” Catrin told me, pressing her lips to my jaw. I felt her fangs brush against the bone, threatening to slice the skin.

    “I know,” I grunted, heated and breathless.

    “Good knights don’t do this sort of thing,” she hissed. “They don’t like this sort of thing.”

    She’d smeared my blood across her lips, giving it a color that’d been absent before. Her skin was cold against mine, her eyes never blinking as they remained locked on my face. The light must have stung her, but it only seemed to enhance her focus.

    I remembered her comment about pulpits. For some insane reason, it excited me.

    Catrin snipped her teeth together barely a finger’s width from my lips. “You’re starting to get it.”

    I glared at her. “Are you going to do it or not?”

    In answer, Catrin pushed me onto my back. She poised there for a short while, her motions sinuous in their rhythm. Her fingers glided up my stomach, my chest, my neck. They were cool and dry, the sharp nails threatening to cut. A bead of sweat made its way down my brow as I waited, anticipating what came next.

    She brushed the scars on my face, her touch lingering on them. When she spoke, her voice held an icy calm.

    “I’ll make you forget about that bitch.”

    Then she ripped my shirt open, leaned down, and sank her teeth into my chest.