You could feel the press of the shadows against the carriage exterior, how they tried to filter through cracks in the windows, slither under the door. His angry, strained voice was shouting shaped curses and chants meant to mesmerize the demons. The jostling around the carriage faded enough for Stephen to leap inside, slamming the door and shouting to the driver to leave. The giant black horses reared back and neighed angrily, no doubt pushing against the terrible eagerness of the shadows to join you.
There was a combined wail that sounded like the screech of carrion, the weeping of a child, the death rattle of a beloved pet as the carriage speeds away, almost as if the shadows were mourning your abduction.
Stephen settled back against the black leather and crushed velvet of the carriage. It was beautifully made, with polished wood walls, fortified windows and well-sprung so your spine wasn’t trying to jostle loose. Pressing into one nicely cushioned corner, you glared at him.
“Murderer!”
The spoiled monster had the gall to look surprised, as if the twenty-two servants he’d just torn apart meant nothing. You turned your face away. There was nothing to say that he wouldn’t laugh at.
The ride seemed endless - the bouncing over the rutted road, how Stephen would chuckle when another pothole would throw you against him. You’d shrink back, hissing like a scalded cat, which seemed to amuse him even more. Resting your forehead against the cold glass of the window, you wondered where John was. Did he know you’d been taken? Would he come for you before … before whatever this new monster had planned for you came to pass?
You searched the blasted landscape as the carriage tore through it, charred lumps that were once homes and jagged shards that used to be a forest. But every now and then, when the oily mists cleared a bit, you were certain you’d seen a flash of green. A tiny tuft of grass, maybe a branch tentatively leafing out. There were signs. No matter what the Night Brethren had done to the Earth, it was renewing itself.
That brief moment of optimism plummeted as the horses rounded the bend and a huge mansion - larger even than the one where John had held you captive for ten years - loomed before you. It was black and monstrous, with strange lines and unnatural angles that made your eyes hurt, trying to follow the shape of them. Windows glowing red with candlelight, and a high iron fence with viciously sharp spikes. As the gate opened, dead bodies swung loosely at the top of several of the spikes. Turning your face away, you tried not to gag as Stephen laughed at you.
“We can’t all have a swarm of formless ghouls patrolling our gates, like Barnes. Would you like me to bring some of them here as a wedding gift? That upstart bastard won’t be needing them anymore.”
“I’ll never marry you,” you spat.
Stephen laughed, head thrown back carelessly, sharp white teeth glinting. “You will beg to marry me; I can promise you that.” He jumped easily from the carriage as it rolled to a stop, holding his hand out to help you down. You held back in the shadows, shaking your head angrily. “I can promise you, sweet darling, that there is a surprise waiting for you in my father’s house that you will be very happy to see.”
The feral shadows of the things guarding John’s house might not be here, but the strolling crowd of vampires - glittering and beautiful - were somehow worse, leaning in with a viperous curiosity as Stephen dragged you along a hallway with a high, arched ceiling and flickering lanterns. He finally stopped as you found yourself in a ballroom, ridiculously vast, cold and drafty. But the marble echoed with the click of high heels, slowly at first, then taking on speed as the woman raised her long skirts and raced across the room to you.
“Mama!”
You were instantly enclosed in her embrace, the scent of peppermint and vanilla that was such a part of your mother filling your senses like comfort. She was rocking you back and forth, the wet trailing down the back of your neck meaning that she was crying, too.
“I knew it!” you sobbed, “I knew you were alive, I knew you were!”
“My sweet girl,” her voice was choked, “I thought you got away, I thought you were safe….”
“So sweet, the reunion between mother and daughter.”
The voice was silky, but it spread over your nerves like a viscous sludge. Beautifully polished shoes stepped into your watery vision and you looked up to see a … slightly older-looking version of the vampire that kidnapped you. Stephen’s father, no doubt. Another monster.
“Mama, have you been with him this entire time?”
Your mother’s beautiful face - her dear, sweet face untouched by your uncertain memories - crumpled. “Yes, sweetheart.”
“Now, darling, why this mournful expression?” he chuckled, kissing her cheek and then nipping playfully at her chin. Your mother stood stiffly, enduring his embrace. “You’ve been my most honored concubine for these last ten years.”
Stubbornly keeping your hold on her slim hands, you forced yourself to nod respectfully. “May I speak with my mother for a moment, Sir? Alone? It’s been so long-”
The vampire’s face took on the arrogant hauteur identical to the one worn by his son Stephen, who was hovering impatiently behind him. “I am notSir,”he drew out the last word, mocking you as the vampire court tittered behind him. “I am your Lord, your King. Master Adam Tyrrell, I lead the Night Brethren. It seems one of our own has been hiding you.” His sneer dissolved into fury. “From the Brethren! Fromme.”
You looked around nervously as a low, hissing murmur moved through the crowd.
“And now my son,” he looked at Stephen with an expression that appeared he might be attempting to express an affection he was not capable of feeling, “my firstborn has found you, brought you to your rightful home.”
You felt your mother’s soft fingers brush the back of your neck with a gasp. “Sweet girl, you’ve been Marked? This is the crest of the House of-”
“It doesn’t matter!” Stephen was right next to you, his near scream making you jump and shrink closer to your mother. “It’s a mistake! I will end that bastard and the claim is gone!”
The low growl behind you was even more terrifying than Stephen’s greedy tantrum. His father moved your mother away and cold, long fingers gripped the back of your neck.
“You did not tell me of the claim from Barnes. She already bears two.” His voice shook with fury and maybe … disappointment? You weren’t sure but he had the same petulant tone as his son, like a child denied a toy. The cold fingers tightened for a moment and your mother was there, taking your hands.
“Please, Master, may I speak with my daughter?” Her tone was soft and soothing, you remembered her using it on your father when he came home some nights, angry and withdrawn. When he wouldn’t even look at you. “Allow me to explain-”
