Lesbian Vampire Ch. 06 - That Which Haunts You

Lucy’s eyes grew wide as soon as she saw Rhea.

“Careful, I--” managed Rhea as Lucy encircled the witch in her arms. She felt suspended in time; cradled even. Lucy’s hand touched her face and tilted her chin up. Rhea looked into her eyes, blue like the sky and hair like the molten core of the earth itself.

“What happened?” asked Lucy.

The gravity of the moment collided with Rhea. She pulled away.

“The hex. That picture,” said Rhea and Mariam handed her the folded paper. “When Mariam showed me this, it broke the hex.” Lucy took the paper and stared at the image and Rhea told her about hacking up the pustled sac.

“Are you sure it’s gone?” asked Mariam.

Rhea nodded, “But I think whatever happened upstairs means I’ve been hexed for a while now.” And whoever got me was so strong and so subtle, even Greta couldn’t sense it.” Mariam looked at her, bewildered.

Rhea pointed to the image Lucy still held in her hands. “Janice,” said Rhea, “who I have no memory of meeting until now.” Beside Janice sat a tan woman. Beside Rhea, a man with a beard who stared into the camera. “These two are students on the island. Two I’ve taught,” said Rhea. She could never remember their names.

Jackie and Brody now sprung to her mind with ease.

“That’s when they put it in me,” said Rhea. She shuddered; the thing had lurked inside her for over a year.

“Do you remember anything suspicious?” asked Mariam.

Rhea felt a sharp pain as each hidden memory pierced the veil of oblivion created by the hex. She remembered: Janice was friendly, the other two polite. The three of them had peppered Rhea with questions about necromancy. The memory was still hazy like recalling the details of a dream

“They wanted to know about talking to the dead,” said Rhea as the memory finally surfaced:

“But surely you can make them talk to you,” said Janice in a playful voice. She was looking at the group picture of the 4 of them on her phone. Janice had cajoled another party goer into taking it.

“No,” Rhea shook her head, “Really, there’s no making the dead do anything; it’s about collaboration. It takes practice and time.”

“But that takes forever,” answered Janice playfully. She pronounced the ‘r’ with a long, drawn out sound. Rhea smiled in spite of herself. She didn’t quite trust Janice. But Rhea was in an enclave where only the trusted were allowed. Janice continued, “Not everyone has the desire to become a necromancer. With the help of spirits, learning magick would be so much easier and would bring in MORE witches, to all disciplines.”

“You can just ask spirits for help,” said Rhea. “And you don’t have to use their magick.”

“You know what I mean,” said Janice. “Necromancy is one of the oldest disciplines. You have so much figured out. Why make everyone grind through years of study when you can just share the secrets.”

Rhea looked at her strangely. “Not with the world, of course,” added Janice with a smile. “With people you can trust—witches.”

“But what about binding?” asked Brody. “Binding controls spirits.”

“It’s not that it’s impossible, it’s dangerous,” said Rhea. “It becomes harder and harder to keep spirits under control. And it’s a crutch; your own magick will atrophy if you rely too much another’s.”

The memory faded.

Rhea pressed her fingertips against the bridge of her nose. The pain of emerging memories still felt so sharp. “They wanted to know about controlling spirits. To make them work. To use spirit magick to supplement their own.”

Lucy stood. “How could they have done this? Isn’t your magick stronger?”

“I thought so,” answered Rhea. “But I suspect they have help from someone powerful.” Brody and Jackie were new to magick. Janice, even though she had talent, avoided the work. None of them were capable of this.

Another memory surfaced.

Rhea sat on her bed. Frozen stiff, like a mannequin. Brody was digging through the papers on her desk

“Don’t mess anything up,” Jackie hissed. “She’s fighting it off.”

Brody looked over. “She won’t remember,” he said.

“I keep telling Lara that none of this works on her and she just won’t listen” said Jackie. She shifted her weight from side to side.

“It’s fine,” snapped Brody. He rattled the locked door of Rhea’s desk. “There’s nothing in here, anyway.”

“Shit,” said Jackie, “we can’t come back with nothing.”

Another wave of nausea made Rhea grit her teeth. “That thing I coughed up made me vulnerable to their magick. It let them put me in sort of a catatonic state,” said Rhea. “And made it so I couldn’t remember.”

“And probably find you,” said Lucy. She sat down again beside Rhea, who nodded. “It wouldn’t matter how much protection magick the enclave has. They could still get to me,” she said. Mariam tried to look calm.

“But I think the hex was flawed,” said Rhea. “Like they hadn’t completely figured out the magick yet. Or whoever created it had to rely on these three to cast.” said Rhea. She stiffened-- those two were still on the island, she explained to Lucy and Mariam as she tried to call Kivan. She gave up after a few dropped calls and settled on an email. Their magick was strong, she wrote, but they couldn’t control it. They were looking for something. Books, writings. I’m not sure.

Kivan responded soon after: Rhea-- they left the same day you did. Didn’t tell anyone, just left. We were about to search the island until Jerry told us he saw them board the late ferry.

When is the soonest you can get back here?

Rhea, relieved, searched for an answer to justify staying. Kivan loved her, wanted to protect her, but he had not seen what she had seen. He didn’t know what they were up against if Braga disappeared before she could stop him. She wrote: I don’t think I should. If I’m still afflicted, I’ll be in even more danger on a boat. Is there a way to get Greta to come to me?

The way the small muscles of her chest and throat shuddered in relief, Rhea was certain the hex was gone. Certain as the rays of the sun that warmed the earth. But, after all she had seen since leaving the island, Rhea knew her certainty didn’t matter much. She knew Kivan, relentlessly logical, would feel the same. It made sense for her to wait for Greta, who was unparalleled in her ability to detect hidden magick and break spells. Greta, of course, would also want to know how she could have missed it. She turned to Lucy.

“When can you go?” Rhea asked. “I need to be prepared to meet Braga.”

There was urgency in Rhea’s voice and Lucy looked at her with concern.

“I want to believe there’s no other hexes, but I don’t know,” said Rhea. “If I can get to Braga, I can get to the witch who did this-- someone we don’t know. Or haven’t thought of. A necromancer, probably, and a good one. Who’s now more powerful than ever and can leave the country at any time to a castle guarded by vampires. If I don’t stop her, I may never know what else she did to me.” She thought of someone else’s magick hiding within her, riding the flow of her blood and nesting among her organs. It made her angry and she tried to waive the thought away.

Lucy lifted a hand to Rhea’s face. “We’ll go as soon as the sun dips below the horizon. I’ll wear a hat, or something.”

Rhea turned to Mariam. “If anything happens, tell Kivan I’m sorry and I had no choice.”

Mariam nodded sadly.

The road down the mountain was steep and wet with tire-treaded slush. Rhea, fearful of taking the curving road too quickly, pulled over every few miles when the line of drivers stacked behind her grew too long. Minivans and SUVs filled with children rolled by as well as Jeeps loaded with snowboards and gear.

Lucy groaned. The sun had dipped below the mountain range but rays of light that still lingered grew brighter the closer they got to sea level.

“This isn’t going to kill you, right?” asked Rhea.

“Reasonably sure,” said Lucy.

The passenger seat rested as far back as it would go. Towels covered the windows around her to block as much of the light as possible and one covered Lucy’s face. But the road back to the city was westwards.

“It’ll be dark soon,” said Rhea. Lucy grunted.

“I used to always get car sick when I was kid,” said Rhea, clicking the dials on the console to increase the airflow. “Especially mountain roads. Heights and lots of turns. Plus my dad always drove way too fast. It made me so nauseous,” said Rhea.

“Your father sounds like an asshole,” said Lucy from underneath the towel.

“Sometimes,” conceded Rhea.

“I was trying to irritate you on purpose,” said Lucy. Her voice was petulant. There were a few moments of silence between them. “Tell me about him” she then asked.

Rhea maneuvered back to the road. “He is an asshole. He left my mom because she got in the way of his career,” said Rhea. Once this story made her very sad, but the words now felt plain, like opening the stale page of a book that was forgotten. The scent sparked a vibrant flicker, but the prose now felt hollow.

“Bastard,” said Lucy. She shifted underneath the candy colored stripes of the towel.

“It was a different time,” said Rhea. The words felt automatic and carefully crafted to dissuade questions. “He was white and my mom was black. They met when she was in college. He was a professor. They married for love when she graduated and he was content to jump from job to job. He liked it less when he wanted to get tenure. When the rejections started to stack up, he blamed my mom.”

“Well, I’m sure your mom didn’t like the fact he couldn’t keep a job either,” said Lucy.

Rhea laughed. “No. No she didn’t. They divorced when I was 16 and I only saw him here and there after that. He helped me get into college though.”

“Hmm,” said Lucy. “Well I hope she found happiness without him. Dreadful business, marriage. My father married me off when I was 19 and expected me to be grateful.”

Rhea paused, curious but unsure how to proceed. “What was he like?” She wished she could see Lucy’s face still hidden by the towel. But Lucy’s voice sounded steady as always: clipped in pace, precise, and with an ever-present tint of irreverence. Rhea wondered if Lucy trusted her, and then found herself frightened when she wondered why that mattered.

“My husband,” said Lucy, bemused, “Was downright scared of me if I was riled up enough. He hadn’t been around a teenager in his life, even when he was one. He was from England, the only son of a cash-poor family with a big estate that he sold as soon as he inherited it. He came to Ireland to escape gambling debt. In those days, affluent Irish families wanted to believe they were British and my father was convinced that marrying his daughter into a British family was crucial for his lineage.”

“Did you love him?” asked Rhea. She regretted her impulse but she couldn’t help herself.

Lucy shrugged. “It was a different time. I believed my father. But looking back I suppose I have some suspicions about my feelings for a close friend of mine; a beautiful dark-haired girl engaged to a stodgy chump. Still a better man than my husband, the gambler. He lost everything, including our family money, because he got my father involved too.”

“Mariam said Braga changed you and Patrick,” said Rhea, impulsively.

“I still blame Patrick for that,” said Lucy. “Braga might have just been satisfied with Father and my husband. But Patrick wanted to be a hero.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rhea.

“It could have been worse,” said Lucy. “I suspect I couldn’t bear children. We were married for a few years, after all. He probably would have left me penniless.” Silence hung between them as Rhea drove down the road. She was unsure if Lucy was lost in thought or conscious of her own vulnerability.

“What happened to your mother?” asked Lucy. There was no discomfort in her voice, no hint of suspicious regret.

“My mom was happy for the rest of her life,” said Rhea. “We went back to her hometown. She was young when she married my dad, young enough to start over. She married the assistant pastor at my grandfather’s church after I left for college. I have two sisters in their 30’s now. They think I don’t want to see them.”

Orange-red rays receded into the ocean and the sky was a gradient of lavender to deep blue. The sun had fully set when they reached the base of the mountain and it was dark when they reached Lucy’s apartment. The vampire seemed fatigued and sluggish.

“What’s wrong?” asked Rhea as the door to Lucy’s apartment closed behind her.

“The sun depleted me faster than I thought it would,” said Lucy.

“Do you need to...go get blood?” she asked

“I should wait,” said Lucy. “Until you get back from Braga.” She crossed the room towards the broad lilypad of a chair. When she collapsed onto it the wood frame creaked. “In case something goes wrong.”

“How long does it take you? To find someone, or enough of them.” asked Rhea.

“One person is enough for a few days, usually. I don’t need much. But the night is young and everyone’s still got their wits about them. There’s probably a few drunks by now, but then I would be drunk.” Lucy answered. She laid on her belly across the massive chair. She rested her face on her hands.

“What about me?” asked Rhea.

Her throat felt weak; she couldn’t believe she actually said it. Thrill and fear spiraled around each other. Lucy raised her head. Her eyes flickered with deliberation. Rhea’s arms felt weak. She crossed towards the chair and sat. It was so large there was still a significant space between them. Lucy was as still as a statue. Her long red curls spilled over her arm.

“How much do you need?” asked Rhea. Lucy’s gaze was fixed on Rhea and began to take on an otherworldly quality. A strange light seemed to reflect off of them. A striking shimmer and brightness that was as beautiful as it was fleeting. She felt a strong urge to stare deep into Lucy’s eyes. Rhea then felt the mist-magick again curl along her skin. She thought she had become immune, the effects abated, but she was wrong. It washed over her now and sharpened the yearning she felt for the vampire.

“Never more than a pint, darling,” said Lucy, “That will satiate the Gift.”

“Does it ever want more?” asked Rhea.

“It always wants more,” said Lucy as she sat upwards on her hip and backside, her long legs curled behind her like the tail of a cat. “But if you let it feed with abandon, you become a wild monster and may never come back.”

“And can you heal me afterwards?” asked Rhea. She exhaled-- of course Lucy could heal her. Necromancers made the damn serum that let her do it.

“There’s one more thing,” said Lucy. “When the victim isn’t confounded after the bite, there’s usually a reaction,” said Lucy.

“What kind of reaction?” asked Rhea

“Depends on the context,” said Lucy. “If the bite is a shock or otherwise marked by fear, it’s hysteria. Psychotic terror. It fades quickly but seems unpleasant. But, if the human is consenting, it’s pleasant. My lovers often ask me to bite them before sex,” said Lucy starkly. “Makes things sweeter. And if they drink my blood, I’ll have a link to their mind.”

“You could read my thoughts?” asked Rhea. She felt tingling across her chest to the peaks of her breasts.

Lucy looked at her. “I would see what you see. Hear what you hear. And feel what you feel. Send you simple messages.” Lucy’s skin had a withered quality.

“Ok,” said Rhea.

“You’re serious?” Lucy asked, brow raised.

Rhea gave a singular nod. Lucy was lit by the glow of the lamp and partially in shadow. Rhea feels a scant tremor of nerves. She worried if she let them overtake her she would change her mind.

Rhea asked “How do we do this?”

Lucy, with a small, irritating smile, slid behind Rhea who still sat perched on the edge of the chair. Lucy tucked her legs underneath her. “You should take your shirt off,” she said. Rhea pulled the black t-shirt over her head. There was a small sheen of cold sweat on her hands. The vampire gripped the soft, padded flesh of Rhea’s hips and pulled her backwards against her chest. Rhea’s breath stuttered and when she felt Lucy pressed along her spine.

The vampire ran her hand along Rhea’s arm. “Relax,” Lucy whispered, noticing a stiffness in her limbs. Lucy ran her fingertips across from neck to shoulder; a pleasurable shiver ran through Rhea and she closed her eyes. Her shoulders relaxed and Lucy then pulled the strap of her bra to the side and it hung limp off her shoulder.

Lucy kissed her neck and she flinched reflexively.

“Relax,” said Lucy, her words gentle. Rhea felt Lucy’s lips again kissing her neck. Rhea’s body softened again and she was surprised to notice she was holding her breath. She exhaled slowly.

“Good,” whispered Lucy. “Breathe slow.”

When Rhea exhaled again she felt the bite-- first as two distinct points of pressure.

Lucy gripped the soft flesh of Rhea’s belly as her body succumbed to the pleasure of the bite. Sharp at first, the sensation became a satisfying ache. The pleasure, the pain, and the thwarted urge to flee converged into a singular sensation unknown to Rhea before this moment. It was a floating bliss; it dissolved her edges and left her in a place beyond words. She felt submerged in the pleasure of the bite, like deep, warm water and didn’t know the way to the surface. Her clit ached. Every part of her: mind, body and spirit, sang in pleasure.

Rhea felt Lucy’s tongue and her lips on her neck, suckling at the blood from her neck. Lucy’s arms grew warm around Rhea. She looked down and saw a single drop of blood run down her chest and between her breasts, the fresh crimson color against the gold undertones of her skin.

Lucy pulled away and Rhea felt drops of liquid on the bite. “Just a little bit, that’s all I needed,” whispered Lucy, as she wiped the spilled blood away. Rhea felt weak and laid back into Lucy’s chest. Her mind swam in the wake of pleasure. A gentle tremble that started in her belly wobbled out through her limbs.

“It’s ok,” said Lucy soothing, “It’ll stop in a minute.” Rhea found she didn’t mind the trembling; it seemed to unspool the tense parts of her.

“Are you all right?” Lucy asked.

Rhea nodded and smiled. “I feel really good.”

And she felt better than good; these last few days had brought her closer to death than she ever had been. And each resurrection just made her more powerful.

“Stay still,” responded Lucy.

Rhea, more lucid, felt her body against the vampire and desire curled within her, as it always did when Lucy touched her. She sat upwards then turned to kiss Lucy.

“Stay still,” said Lucy when she pulled away. “Let the serum do its work.”

The serum had done its work though-- the bite wound was healed and the replenished blood made her feel more invigorated than before. The angle, however, allowed only for a chaste kiss. Rhea turned and sat on her knees, mirroring Lucy, then kissed her deeply. She brought a hand softly to the vampire’s face.

“Darling,” said Lucy as one hand took Rhea’s wrist and the other her shoulder, “maybe now’s not the best time?” She guided Rhea backwards. “This is a reaction. To the bite.”

Rhea pressed forward. Lucy relaxed her hands and allowed Rhea to kiss her again. Thrill swelled in Rhea when the vampire parted her lips. Her mouth was hot and so was her tongue.

“You’re warm,” Rhea said. From my blood.

“We’ve been here before,” said the vampire, “and every time you thought it was a bad idea.”

“I thought it was a good idea last time, you just pissed me off,” countered Rhea. Lucy smiled. Rhea pressed her cheek against Lucy’s and whispered into her ear. “I want you. I want you so bad I can’t think about anything else.”

“Rhea,” said Lucy, her voice weak. She shifted away and sat on her haunches, legs stretched before her.

“That’s not what you call me,” Rhea said. Her lips pulsed with arousal as she crawled over Lucy’s legs to straddle her thighs. The bra strap still hung off her shoulder. Rhea unhooked the clasps of her bra to do away with the garment algother; she threw it to meet her shirt.