“Crawl If You Have To!”
Harker
I am lost.
I drifted in an ecstasy made up completely of her. A current of terrifying strength that pulled the both of us toward a dark fate.
Drink. Take her in. Make her yours.
I had tried the unripe seed of the poppy flower in an early formulation for my vital essence—another failed experiment, as it only increased my craving. But it was the only formulation that had brought me even close to feelingthis.
Knees weakening in this languid bliss, I stumbled toward the table. Cups and saucers shattered on the floor as I swept her onto it. She might have escaped me in this state, but she had ceased to struggle. Even as I rode the gentle swells of satiation, a sob welled up inside me.
My downfall was only ever going to beher. The woman who had tormented me for two years now—the longest of my life. Coming to know her these past few days, watching her closely and listening to her voice, learning the lines of her face with my eyes, and of her body withmybody as I carried her to the chapel ... A part of me had hoped that putting an end to the mystery of her would break the spell.
You fool.
I felt a rustle of movement then.She lives. It’s not too late.These thoughts wormed their way through my bloodlust, but for the life of me—for the life of her—I couldn’t let go.
Her hand fumbled between us, soft and fragile as a moth’s wing. Suddenly a searing pain tore through me.
I staggered back, hand going to my neck. I could smell my own charred flesh.
A sob heaved out of her as she sat up on the table edge, a gleaming curtain of red hair concealing the punctures in the silken flesh of her throat. She held something high in her fingers—a tiny silver cross with a delicate chain dangling from it.
“Bless you, Mina,” I choked out, tears streaming down my cheeks.
When was the last time I’d had enough moisture to weep? When I buried the wasted husk of my father?
She stood on trembling limbs, managing a single step toward the door before falling to her knees.
“Get out!” I barked. “Crawl if you have to!”
I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes so I wouldn’t see her moving along the floor like wounded prey.Exactly what she is.
I tried to ignore the whispers of her skirt and creak of the door.
I pushed back against every instinct that screamed I could have her again in half the space of a heartbeat.
Deadly Closeness
Two days later
I couldn’t feel my body. Wasn’t sure I evenhada body. As if I’d stretched out on the ground, been covered over by soil and weeds, and not moved for a century.
Is this what it feels like to be dead?
I drew a breath, and slowly sensation worked its way out from my expanding chest to my arms and legs, fingers and toes tingling as they woke. I shifted slightly, and a deep muscle and bone ache loosed a quiet moan from my lips.
“Thankheaven.”
My eyes fluttered open at the sound of the familiar voice. Mrs. Moyle sat in a chair beside the bed—my parents’ bed. Jack’s bed, now.
“Wh—” The breathy sound was all I got out before I started to cough.
Mrs. Moyle reached for a cloth on the bedside table, dipping it into a bowl before bringing it to my lips. I had never tasted anything better than those precious drops of cool water, even with the flavor of kitchen towel.
“Don’t exert yourself, dear,” said Mrs. Moyle. “Do you want more?”
