Eternal Night

(III) Chapter 14: Aching Soul

She was almost wraith-like; a creature of black mist and barely contained torment as she wandered into Carmen's – so silent, no one would have even realized she had crossed the threshold had Lyra not felt her presence first.

Carmen, Rémy, Jacob, and Lyra were all seated at the bar, red-eyed and with tear-stained faces. Francesca could feel their sorrow like a dull, thrumming ache in her head, but it was nothing compared to what was still churning inside of her, black and hot and thick as pitch.

"Oh my god, Frankie!" Carmen gasped, hand covering her mouth.

It was Rémy who stood first, his eyes sweeping over her once, twice. His sister was soaked in blood and caked in black ash. Her eyes were as dark as the night with two thin rings of glowing violet swirling around her dilated pupils. It wasn't long before he uttered, "What have you done?"

"What needed to be done," was all she offered by way of reply, her voice soft and devoid of any inflection. "Where's Vesper?"

"She's in her room. She hasn't woken up yet," Carmen explained.

"Vlad and I did what we could," Jacob added, "but the poison and the blood loss – it's left her comatose."

"And where is Vlad?"

"Out looking for you," Rémy said. "He and Tristan put a small team of lycans together and..."

"Call them off their hunt," she interjected at a whisper, leaving the others to strain to hear it. "I have someone taking care of what is left of the cleanup so there won't be much of a power vacuum to deal with now that Basilio is gone. I'm going to check on Vesper and then I'm going home," and with that, she started to make her way toward the back hall that would lead to the stairs.

"Frankie, wait," Lyra began and she reached out to gently take hold of the woman's wrist, but then she recoiled suddenly as if she had grabbed a hot coal instead. Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes suddenly filling with tears.

She had felt it – for just a brief instant that contact, in conjunction with their sire-bond, had allowed her a taste of what was still roiling in Francesca's veins – the Spider's memories. Several lifetimes of unspeakable evil.

"What is it?" Rémy asked, concerned. But Lyra couldn't bring herself to speak. She only looked at her beloved friend with horror and pity as Frankie excused herself from the room.

Thankfully, no one went after her as she made the familiar ascent to Vesper's bedroom, the murmured whispers of the others barely even registering. Everything in her head was still screaming – a hurricane of emotion and an endless darkness.

She found the girl seemingly whole and tucked into her bed. Had it not been for the IV drip and heart monitor on the nightstand, she never would have guessed that anything was amiss. Frankie was about to take a seat on the edge of the mattress when she recalled the state of her clothes, the blood that still soaked nearly every inch of her. She needed to go home, needed to wash away this filth, to burn it from her if that's what it took. But she had to try one thing first.

Taking a damp washcloth that had been left behind in a small basin on the bedside table, Frankie washed a spot on her wrist, making sure that not a trace of Basilio's blood remained. When she was satisfied, she knelt down beside the bed and brought the freshly cleaned skin to her lips. With her eyes never leaving the comatose dhampir, she bit clean through the flesh until she could taste the blood on her teeth. She then gently lowered the wound to the slumbering girl's mouth and pressed it to her barely parted lips.

Vesper never stirred.

The rhythm of her beating heart remained unaltered, the steady beeps of the monitor unchanged, even as the small amount of blood pooled in the girl's mouth. Frankie waited for nearly five minutes for something to happen, anything, but Vesper never roused from her slumber. With a heavy heart, she gently wiped the scarlet from the girl's lips, even as every inch of her soul screamed in agony, the Spider's memories continuing their violent assault on her mind.