The girl who had grown up was beautiful. I no longer saw Lorelei. But the girl was still in the castle.
She was beautiful and vaguely familiar.
She had a small, melancholic face. She sat in the chair from the vanity table, only it was pulled to face the small window. It was snowing outside and sometimes white flakes floated and landed on her.
She was dressed in a loose nightgown decked with frills in the dark. How long had she been doing this? This loneliness that comes with being the next Queen Butterfly.
When the door opened she struggled to move, and then I saw how there were welts under the sheer gown. They were red and fresh.
She stood up and walked, elegant expect a small limp that she seemed used to.
Standing at the open door was a woman who looked like her, dark hair and sharpe face. No, she looked a lot like Agnes— and at that moment I couldn't think and only watched as they spoke.
"Mother?"
She didn't bother to answer the young girl's question, only hold the candelabra closer in the dark, three little fires lighting up their ghostly white faces.
"How does childbearing fare?"
"It hurt, it's felt as though I've been carrying a boulder for so long my bones are breaking. It hurts." The girl, no, woman, held her face in her hands. "Please don't make me do that again."
"It's common, one does worry about beauty when they are pregnant. But your body is no less beautiful, unlike some. Be grateful about that, darling."
"Yes."
"I had to give birth to you at fifteen. You have a role, and that's to give birth to another you."
"I can't!"
"Shut your mouth. You're only seventeen. You know why I came, didn't I? My dim sister is asleep and I wanted to talk to you alone." Her eyes shone in the dark. They were unlike Agnes's. They were even crueler.
The girl grimaced as she pushed back into her cushion of pillows, then touched her stomach.
"I will give you a daughter, I promise."
"Yes." It was a familiar chirp. "Make sure the vampire from the East isn't on you yet."
"He knows, Mother."
"Well, he won't know when it's a son."
"No!" The girl spoke, then pushed herself up again. "You'll not hurt me!"
"I won't hurt you."
"Not him, mother, I love him!"
"Vampires don't love." She laughed. The younger girl was angry, but fear held her back. I could see the expression that wished to kill but is unable to.
The older vampire continued. "Remember, they are only here to use us in the same way. They'll keep their bloodline and we will continue our games. Sons must be killed or they'll gain. Think about it, how could you help a clan that is using us? Decrease their beautiful children, their pureblood, at least."
"Silva isn't like that," the girl faltered. "He said he loves me and our child, son or daughter."
"There's be no son." The woman walked to the window in a perfect line then giggled to herself. "There'll be no son." She held her hand out to feel a snowflake land. Then I saw it was a white butterfly.
Younger Girl stands up again, in the slow, guarded way.
"Mother—"
"You'll be giving me a daughter."
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Fangs of a Butterfly
वैंपायरMargery is the most beautiful vampire in her clan, tasked with killing all the humans who disrupt the peace of their vampire clan. When a group of researchers comes to study them, Margery is determined to use them, ending up making a deal with Uriel...
