The Blood Witch

Coming Out

It had been something holy for an instant. The beauty of the love of my life extending one pale, open palmed hand to the begging monster on the floor. You'd never utter the word 'witch' to see her then. The calm and concern on her fair face, the reverent look in the creature's sickly eyes.

It was some facsimile of the Mother's portrait, which showed the humanized version of the Pyrthian land reaching down to cradle the first of men.

Then the other vampyres had stepped into the room and that same dishevelled creature had batted her outstretched arm aside and sunk those bleeding fangs into her throat. Sunk and tore and ripped.

It was instantaneous. The other vampires had no hesitation in descending on my soldiers as they rushed to Paige's aid. Maybe they mounted a decent defense. Maybe they had almost won. I didn't see. I didn't even look.

All I knew was Paige was dying faster than even Esra could heal and my world would end with her last few gasps for air.

After all these years I'd thought myself a better soldier than to fail my family that easily, but at the very end it had only ever been Paige I was fighting for. Even when the vampyres had in turn descended on me, it was muscle instinct alone that raised my blade to gouge out the first attacker's throat. My magic was nothing but rage and grief and some darker, fiercer emotion that I pulled as much from my own heart as I did from the pooling blood of my friends.

I don't remember much else.

I didn't kill them all. Surely I couldn't have. There did come a time amidst the slaughter when they stopped, though. The vampyres who were bitten tend to be more skittish than their stronger, original counterparts. Eventually they settled for the blood of corpses over whatever hellfire was in my veins and I... I ran. I think. Perhaps I jumped or fell or crawled to escape, but escape I did.

Ash touches my elbow lightly, jolting me from my reverie and face to face with the look of concern wrinkling his brow. I can still feel the phantom touch of words on my lips, but no memory of what had been spoken. How much had I continued to say aloud?

"You've mentioned Paige before," he says gently, offering the words like a hand to a man overboard. He doesn't let the sadness in his eyes reach the smile that accompanies them. "Tell me about her. Esra and Hadvar too. Before... Before anything, what were they like?"

What were they like? What were they like?

"Esra was... complicated. She was gorgeous, wickedly clever. Smarter than anyone I've ever met. Too smart for me, certainly." It never stopped me trying, though. I choose my words as carefully as I can when continuing, "Esra had this bitterness to her, though. She'd wind people up just to let them down. Mostly me, actually. We were... We were lovers occasionally, but always on her terms."

She and Paige were always at each other's throats over it. I was under no illusion as to whether Paige reciprocated anything I felt for her. She'd been equally aware of the contrast between us, pushing me towards anyone who could return the feelings she couldn't. Still our friendship was unwavering as any two girls', in that we told each other about every romantic tangle we got ourselves in. Esra had broken my heart. A lot.

Paige wasn't the kind to let that sort of grudge die.

"Lovers? As in..." Ash's voice is stiff, his expression unreadable. "You made love to women?"

I glance at him sharply. Is he experiencing a moment of revelation or simply balking? He toes the line between religious respect and free-spirited blasphemy so much himself that it's impossible to tell. "Have you not?"

"I... have dabbled in women," he admits slyly, as though it weren't obvious every time he watches me change in front of him.

"I've "dabbled" in men, as well," I add as subtly as my stomach full of wine will allow. Ash tilts his head slightly, studying the moon above with a determined fixation, but a small smile twitches at the corner of his lips.