20. Bane
Chapter 20
Bane
I n the early hours of the morning, well before dawn light dared to breach the mist of the Rift, I stroked the spill of crimson hair on my pillow and wondered if I was still dreaming.
Had I really spent the previous months fearing what my life was to become? Locked every day in a torment of knowing that I would be hated, despised, that the faceless woman I’d pictured as my wife would bar and bolt her doors against so much as a word from me… and now here I was, after a night of touching her, holding her in my arms, thinking that I couldn’t possibly be awake.
This couldn’t be real, and yet it was.
Cirri shifted in her sleep, curling up tighter and letting out a tiny sigh. I pulled the blanket over her, tucking it in around her shoulders. With one last touch, barely a graze over her cheek, I climbed from the bed with as little motion as possible, determined not to wake her.
My eyes didn’t need light to find proper clothes, and she was still sleeping as I leaned from the window to pluck one of the tiny roses that had bloomed on the climbing vines outside.
Her hand was curled on the pillow, the other tucked under the blanket beneath her chin. I set the rose near her fingers, where she’d find it when she woke and know that I hadn’t wanted to leave her here alone… but there were things I needed to do, people I needed to see.
I opened her journal, debating the wisdom of what I was about to do—this journal was hers, and hers alone. But it was also our conversation on the page…
I picked up her pen, carefully pinching it between thumb and forefinger. While I had shattered my fair share of pencils—and Serissan glass quills were completely out of the question—the last thing I wanted was to so much as dent her main method of clear communication.
I have gone to attend my duties, but I will find you as soon as I can, my lovely rose. Koryek will bring you to the library, and if I do not see you before noon, I will come find you for dinner.
I paused, and finally signed it as ‘your devoted beast’. She would understand that I was joking, I hoped.
I laid the pen atop the journal and quietly slipped from the room.
With every day that passed, fear and confidence grew in equal measure—confidence that this might not be a living hell, but a reward I hadn’t deserved; fear that one day she would wake up and realize she slept next to a monster, and that the only answer to a monster was to escape from it.
I would do my best not to be a beast she needed to run from. The note tucked into my shirt pocket seemed to burn against my skin, not only because I was hiding it from Cirri, but because I hadn’t been sure that my hopes would be answered.
The keep was already rising, along with the sun; I made my way to the Tower of Summer just ahead of servants bearing breakfast.
Of all the towers, this one was the tidiest, decorated with what the human nobles of Ravenscry had left behind when I took their throne. To my eye, it was overwrought and impersonal, all gilt and flowery still-lifes and overstuffed furniture, but it was usually reserved for visiting nobles, who seemed to like such things.
The guest now inhabiting the tower was not a noble, nor a vampire; the Silent Brother answered the door at my knock, giving me a brief, impersonal bow of greeting.
“I thank you for responding to my summons,” I said, stepping into the tower. “Of course, there will be gold in it for you, for every day that you are here.”
He grinned; the last time I’d seen him, in the tavern in Thornvale, I’d given him enough gold to live on for a year. When I’d written a note to my steward, asking him to pass the message along to Thornvale in the hopes that the Brother would still be there—and still interested in making an enormous sum of money—I’d wondered if he had already moved on to better climes, but the ancestors were looking out for me this time.
He was not a Silent Brother I recognized from the Rift’s small chapter, but he’d likely fought under the commands of one of my fellow fiends; speaking to me didn’t seem to phase him at all.
The Brother had shed his leather armor and wore only the pure white uniform of his order, and he unclasped a tiny notebook from the belt around his waist, producing a blunted pencil.
I’m Brother Glyn, happy to be of service , he wrote. The Vale chapter desperately needs the gold. This time, though, I think we should start at the beginning, properly. None of us learn to speak as you attempted, every word and concept all at once.
“Agreed. I’ve retained very little of it.”
When Brother Glyn sat in a chair, I sat across from him, selecting a sofa that looked like it would hold my weight with minimal complaint.
He tipped his head; he was as clean-shaven as every other Silent Brother, only the darkest stubble visible on his scalp, his blue eyes curious. He scrawled quickly and passed the little notebook to me.
Before we begin, I confess to some interest in why one of the four fiends would be interested in learning the priests’ tongue.
I passed it back. “My wife is mute. She is fluent in the priests’ tongue, and it seems an unnecessary burden to force her to communicate via writing.”
He nodded, considering that, and I quickly added, “She belonged to the Silver Sisterhood.”
I couldn’t claim that I wasn’t the slightest bit concerned by the now-muted interest in Brother Glyn’s eyes; they were forbidden from speaking, but not from marriage. But the Silent Brothers and the Silver Sisterhood considered each other siblings, in the strange way of their religion; those who devoutly followed the Lady of Light, taking oaths in her service, did not intermingle.
So maybe there was a touch of jealousy. Cirri and this Silent Brother would be able to speak to each other far more easily and fluently than I communicated with her; he was not unattractive; and, most of all, he was human.
You are a wretched sack of covetousness , I told myself, and promised her silently that if she came across Glyn, I would not interfere with her speaking to him.
She should speak to whomever she wanted and that was fine, it would all be all right, because she slept in my bed every night and let me touch her and told me about her day over dinner.
I’ve brought a book , Glyn wrote. I borrowed it from the chapter in Frost Home on the way north. We will begin with the basics, the individual letters of the Veladari alphabet. That is likely what she speaks, if she learned from the Sisterhood. If you can memorize half of it today, I will be pleased with your progress.
He rose from the chair, disappearing into the bedroom, and returned with an enormous, battered book, bound in worn brown leather and clearly well-used.
Glyn sat down, placed it on the table between us, and leafed through several pages. There were drawings of hands, each with a letter of the Veladari alphabet labeled beside them.
He held up a closed fist, palm out, thumb angled upwards. A , was the letter he pointed to.
I imitated the motion, and it was followed with B : four fingers held straight up, palm out, thumb pressed flat below the fingers.
And so it went. I was vaguely aware of time passing as Brother Glyn took me back to the beginning, the mist swirling bright white outside the windows, the sounds filtering in from the exterior of the keep.
Cirri was well awake by now… likely already holed up in the library, working on the inventory of the ancient vampire documents. She was only a thousand feet away…
I forced myself to not think of her, because this lesson, time, and gold would be for nothing if I didn’t beat it into my thick skull. This was to speak to her, to actually hear her, which made it easier to focus.
After another two hours passed, and I could form the letters of A through J without mishap, I asked if he needed to stop.
“Do you need to take midday?” I asked, glancing through the window at the heavy veils of mist clinging to the keep’s walls. I hadn’t seen him eat that morning.
Brother Glyn shook his head and wrote. I will be on a fast until the evening , he told me. We have all the rest of the day. You’re making better progress than I’d hoped, but we’ll see if you retain it.
By the time the sun fell behind Ravenscry’s walls, painting the sky a bloody red, my brain felt overstuffed, nearly numb. But I held up a hand, and slowly, painstakingly formed the letters without error: C-I-R-R-I .
Cirri is your wife? Brother Glyn wrote.
I nodded, still distracted by remembering the letters for the next word: H-E-L-L-O .
Glyn watched me form several more words, leaning back in his chair and nodding after each one. G-O-O-D , he signed back with one hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief at my understanding.
He switched back to the little notebook. That’s enough for today. Try to retain this much, and we’ll review tomorrow before we move on. You have the motivation to accomplish much in a short time.
“I do,” I said, folding my hand in my lap. “She’s gone long enough with no one understanding her.”
Glyn slipped the page-marker ribbon into place and closed the book, and I finally rose from the couch, my legs tired from doing absolutely nothing all day, but it was worth it.
I gave him my hopes that the hospitality was to his liking, and escaped the Tower of Summer, following the path to the library in the hopes that Cirri was still there.
She was; Koryek and his retinue were stationed in various places throughout the library, leaving Cirri in her own little pool of light, the books spread before her. She’d twisted her hair up into a messy bun that spilled over her neck, and her fingers were splotched with ink stains.
I paused in the doorway, staring at her and thinking how strange it was to come to this room, once dusty and lifeless, and feel like I was coming home. Not until these moments, when I could collect Cirri for dinner and speak to her, had I ever felt like I truly belonged here, like this keep was my house.
She turned a page, ever so slowly, and wrote something in her journal. One of her hands drifted up, nudging aside a lock of hair to massage her neck, and my gaze focused on that smooth column.
My throat itched; even from here I could smell her, the skin musk and roses making my mouth water.
I had controlled myself last night, keeping my fangs firmly clamped together, but ancestors… the thirst never ended.
But I would rather drink convict blood from a wine decanter than frighten her away. Even if the thirst was a torment, and the ache to rut with her an agony, if it meant that she remained in my bed and let me touch her, I would take the asceticism and be grateful.
I prowled forward, letting my claws tap the floor to announce my presence. She straightened up, sucking in a breath as her back popped, and twisted her head to smile up at me.
“Surely you’ve finished the inventory and moved on by now?” I asked, resting a hand on her shoulder and doing my utmost best to not remember the way she’d felt writhing against my fingers last night, or I’d be tempted to imagine taking her right here on this table.
I did notice that she turned to a new page in her journal, preserving the note I’d written for her this morning.
Inventory is finally finished, and I’m beginning with the altar book , she wrote. I found one small portion of text in it that might prove useful—it appears to be a Veladari hymn, of all things, but I’ll take what I can get.
“Save it for tomorrow,” I advised her. “Dinner is to be served soon, and I’ve missed you all day.”
There was a brief, unreadable flicker in those green eyes, but her smile didn’t waver. I missed you, too.
I pulled out her chair and helped her organize the books—although my version of ‘help’ mostly involved keeping my claws off them—and led her to the little nook where dinner would be served. The servants were already bringing in the trays, uncovering a plate of paper-thin slices of meat and cheese, pickled vegetables, bread, and an assortment of honey and jam.
She laid her journal on her right, already writing as she rolled a pickled radish one-handed into a slice of cured ham.
I think you know how my day went. I’m going to be a hunchback by the time I’m done with this project, but it’ll all be worth it. I’m cross-comparing the hymn translation tomorrow. Where were you all day? What did you do?
There was no mention of my scent, so she knew I hadn’t been in the forest. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I wanted to gain more fluency before I surprised her with my new knowledge. “I’ve been studying, actually. But don’t ask me about what, because I won’t tell you.”
She arched a brow, dipping bread in jam. Keeping secrets now, are we?
“Only for a little while. When I’ve learned all I can, you’ll be the first to know what it is.”
Cirri chewed and swallowed, eyeing me with undisguised inquisitiveness. You know this wondering is going to drive me to madness.
I laughed a little, covering my mouth. “Consider how much time I’ve spent in the madness of wondering about you. Perhaps turnabout is fair play.”
She nodded sagely. Alas, I can’t argue that. Though in all fairness, I don’t make an effort to be mysterious. It’s simply a side effect.
“True, but… it still remains my secret for now. All I can promise is that you’ll be pleased.” Ancestors, I hoped she would be. And if this went well, perhaps Brother Glyn would be minded to earn more gold, to stay here and teach the other citizens of Ravenscry so that Cirri might not struggle any longer.
She ate more rapidly than I expected. Perhaps she’d skipped the morning and noon meals; I hadn’t been here to ensure she came up for air from the documentation. But when she finished the last bite, instead of writing more about the current work, she shut her journal, tucked it in her bag, and took my hand, beckoning to me to follow.
Of course I did as she asked, curious about where she was going.
She led me to the Tower of Winter, to my room. Heat jolted into my stomach, my cock hardening; perhaps, after last night, she too craved more than a touch…
But after she bolted the door, she dropped her journal-bag on the bed and vanished into the washroom. I heard the sound of water splashing, the faint scratch of scrubbing, and when she emerged she’d cleaned her teeth, brushed her hair, and her arms were… scrubbed to the elbows?
Cirri planted a hand on my chest, pushing me onto the bed. I sat obediently as she took out her journal and wrote.
Dinner is served soon , she said, and looked me in the eye. It will be slow, and perhaps not as intimate and ecstatic as you’ve described yet… but we are going to try.
The heat in my veins died, even as the itch in my throat grew unbearable. For the first time, I wanted to recoil. “I’m unwilling to do anything that frightens you. I can feed elsewhere. I’ve been doing it for this long, it doesn’t matter if I continue.”
You can feed from me . Her jaw was set, chin in the air as she stared at me. I’ve considered this all day. It frightened me the first time, but I was unprepared then. Now I’m ready to try, and we’ll try it my way first—something easy, to help get past the first hurdle.
She extended her arm, freshly scrubbed, the blue traceries of veins in her wrist making my mouth water and my gums ache.
“Cirri…” I swallowed, wishing my mouth weren’t on fire with need.
She shoved the journal away in response, tossing the pen after it, and curled up against me. I was powerless to resist the warmth of her pressed into my side, the softness of her head pillowed on my shoulder; my arm slipped around her of its own accord.
My wife inhaled, then reached up and cupped my cheek, her fingertips moving delicately over the striations of muscle and cartilage in my face, tracing the ridge down to my lips.
Her thumb caressed my lower lip, then, with excruciating slowness, she touched one fang, her brow furrowed with concentration.
She signed to me, her words unclear but her determination obvious.
A hand on her chest, then a broad gesture to me.
She turned her head, pressing her lips to my shoulder, and offered her wrist again.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered, and she shook her head. She pressed herself closer, draping one leg over my lap in a billow of thick skirts, the softness of her curves igniting my imagination.
I took her hand, turning over the pale fingers that had been stained with ink; there were still faint patches on her fingers. “You don’t need to wash for this. The taste of you will be delicious regardless.”
She gave me a crooked smile, but now I could see the faint shine of fear in her eyes.
Ancestors, I didn’t want to do this… and I did. More than anything. It was taking every last shred of willpower, scraped from the deepest pits of my being, to not sink my fangs into her flesh immediately.
And when I would have protested again, not wanting to be an animal in her presence, she tilted her head, raising her eyebrows in a furrow: What are you waiting for?
“I will take it slowly,” I told her, feeling her fingers tremble in mine. “There will be a small pain… and then it will fade. We have a venom in our bite, to help bring the ecstasy and make it more pleasant.”
She nodded, lips set, eyes on my face. I brought her wrist to my mouth, inhaling her luscious scent, mastering myself. I was not an animal. I could control the beast.
My throat burned as I carefully, ever so delicately, set my fangs to her arm. With all of my concentration on this small limb, determined not to savage her, I sank my teeth in slowly, allowing my venomous saliva to penetrate her before I went deeper.
By the ancestors and the gods, the delight . Soft as silk, parting like butter under my fangs…
Cirri drew in a sharp breath, her fingers twitching in my grasp, but she exhaled, settling herself, resting her head on my shoulder.
Her blood, hot as it was and sweet from the vein, soothed the scorching dryness in my throat. I swallowed once, twice, still focused on stopping myself from draining her entirely, and tapered off.
It was enough to soften the pain of thirst. Blood from the vein was far better than blood harvested; my appetite was satiated on that small taste alone.
I couldn’t stop myself from taking another tiny, cooling sip, running my forked tongue over the pinpricks in her flesh and allowing my saliva to close the wounds.
“Did it hurt badly?” I asked her, my voice gruff. She would despise me now.
Cirri examined her arm, the pinpricks, now closed and a muted pink tone, like a constellation inscribed in her flesh. She flattened her hand and tipped it: Somewhat .
The other signs I couldn’t make out, but… she didn’t run, nor was she breathing quickly, with a heightened heartbeat or widened pupils.
Could she truly be unafraid? Had that single bite not frightened her?
My gaze dropped to her throat, wondering… and then her breathing sped up as she noticed where my eyes were focused.
No. The fear was still there, but it was the fear of total vulnerability to a predator.
She grabbed her journal. Small steps , she wrote with a slightly shaky smile. It hurt, but not as much as I thought it would. I really believed it would hurt worse. Even Wyn’s knife has more bite. Next time will be easier.
Cirri glanced at her arm again, taking in the marks that would heal to white scars overnight.
Is that preferable to drinking it decanted? she asked.
“There is no comparison,” I told her with feeling. “Imagine being so thirsty you can think of nothing else, your tongue is as dry as cotton, your throat aches, and before you is a spring of icy, newly-melted mountain water—or a glass of old, yellowed well-water, warmed by the sun.”
She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Thank you for allowing me to try. I know it’s—it’s not what you wanted, but I can assure you that you are delicious.”
That got a genuine smile out of her. My one true ambition in life is finally achieved: to be tasty.
“You mock that, but let me tell you… some people are not tasty. Truly, you should be honored by such an accolade.”
She laughed breathily, a slightly giddy quality to the sound. I absolutely am honored. If anyone asks, I will tell them: I am extremely edible. Toothsome, ambrosial, and possibly even scrumptious.
My precious wife… she was riding the high of victory and venom, having overcome her fear to the degree of allowing my teeth to pierce her, the relief evident in her smiles and laughter and jokes. I wouldn’t ruin her high by telling her any vampire asking about her taste was also asking to be decapitated with extreme prejudice.
“Ambrosial for me , my lady. Toothsome for me .” I pulled her onto me so she straddled my lap, still overcome with silent giggles. “No other vampire’s fangs will touch you.”
She paused, touching her chest with a concerned look, and grabbed her journal to scribble: Why can’t I stop laughing?
Then she fell forward, her head thumping onto my chest helplessly and shaking as she was consumed with more inaudible laughter.
I winced, cradling her to me. “I may have allowed a little too much of my saliva to inoculate you against the pain. It was… well, a fairly large dose, considering I tried to ration myself.”
She sat up, signing with loose gestures, her meaning rather nonsensical.
“All right, love, come here. Let’s sleep this off.” I unlaced the stays of her simple dress, peeling the overdress from her and tossing it on the floor. Cirri was like a doll, still trapped in a cycle of giggling and catching her breath, but she gripped me tightly as I pulled her up into the bed.
She flopped over me languidly, one bare leg draped over my thighs, her head and an arm flung across my chest. I stroked her smooth leg idly, unable to hold back a smile at the occasional explosion of shakes that signified her laughter.
“It might be a while before this stops.” I stroked her hair. “Would you like a bedtime story?”
Y-E-S , she signed, and if her hands were her voice, that voice was slurred and drunk.
Ancestors, next time I would use much less venom. My poor wife.
I thought of a story to tell her that would maybe give her a little insight into the people of the keep. My family, hopefully to be hers as well one day.
“Once upon a time, in the days when the vampires still lived Below, there was a bloodwitch who just couldn’t follow the rules and always wanted to test the patience of her elders…”
Cirri erupted into another small earthquake. As much as I enjoyed holding her this close, for her it was going to be a long night.
But as for me—my thirst was quenched, I had a gorgeous woman draped on me in bed, soon I would understand her, and… there was going to be a next time .
As I spoke, and the venom’s effects slowly mutated into a soporific grip on her, I didn’t let myself think about how I didn’t deserve this, or how it all seemed so unreal. Even later, when everything had been ripped away from me, I held onto this moment as the exact night that my life, my hopes, my dreams… they had all changed, suddenly taking an unknown path I had never considered before, a path that led to something I’d long since given up on.
I was going to grip this happiness with both claws and run with it. It was mine now.