We follow them into the barn, and the moment I cross the threshold, I feel like I’ve stepped into some kind of old-fashioned general store—if that general store catered exclusively to vampires.
The space is warm and dim, lit by hanging lanterns and strings of small red glass bulbs that glow softly overhead. Wooden shelves line the walls, stacked high with crates and baskets and jars. The air smells incredible—sweet fruit, spice, and something tangy and metallic beneath it all.
“Oh wow,” Hanna breathes, her eyes lighting up. “This is adorable.”
There’s produce piled everywhere—bundles of deep purple carrots that look almost black…pink gourds streaked with crimson and gold…and baskets of pale, translucent berries that seem to glow faintly from within catch my eye. One crate holds fat, dark plums labeled Nocturne Sweets, their skins dusted with a silvery bloom.
“That’s a moon-plum hybrid,” Marilla explains when she sees me staring. “Excellent for tarts—or blood preserves.”
I nod like that’s a totally normal thing to say. But I want to taste one—if it’s anything like the Pomme de sang, it will probably be delicious.
On another table, there are glass jars filled with what look like candies—hard drops and chewy squares in shades of ruby and garnet.
“Blood candy,” Alfred says proudly. “We make it ourselves.”
Hanna picks up a jar of glossy red lozenges.
“This one says Crimson Drops—Soothing for the Throat After Feeding.”
I laugh.
“That’s… very specific.”
Next to it is a box of dark chocolate truffles dusted with red sugar. The label reads, Heart’s Delight—Infused with Pomme de sang Reduction.
“I’m getting these,” Hanna declares immediately. “I don’t even care what they’re for.”
Nearby, a small, refrigerated case holds wedges of cheese—some deep red marbled with white, and others nearly black with veins of scarlet running through them.
“Blood cheese,” Marilla says fondly. “Pairs beautifully with a full-bodied red wine.”
I stare at the cheese, intrigued.
“I bet it does.”
Then we reach a rack of aprons hanging near the counter, and Hanna snorts.
“Oh my God, Jules—look at these.”
I step closer and read the sayings printed across the front of the aprons in bold, playful lettering.
BITE ME—POLITELY
KEEP CALM AND DRINK BLOOD
I’M NOT GRUMPY, I’M JUST THIRSTY
I burst out laughing.
“I kind of want all of them,” I admit. “They’re too funny!”
Hanna holds one up to her chest with a pair of vampire fangs dripping blood and the saying, BITE THE CHEF.
“This would kill at a Halloween party,” she says.
Alfred and Marilla beam at us, clearly delighted by our reaction to their merchandise.
“Please,” Alfred urges, spreading his hands wide. “Take whatever you like as a souvenir.”
