Winter's Bite (Belle Morte 0.5)

Chapter Four

"I don't much care for what seems right." Ysanne took a step towards him, and he stiffened slightly, but he didn't recoil from her, like she half-expected. He was braver than she'd thought. "Give me your word that you will remain here until I return."

"You have my word," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

She didn't know if he had agreed out of fear or trust, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he would stay here, safe and alive.

"See if you can gather some wood for the fire, but don't leave the grounds. I won't be long," she said, turning to the door.

"You cannot go out like that, surely," Edmond exclaimed, eyes widening.

Ysanne smiled again. "I can't freeze like you can, and I've already told you that I don't care for what seems right."

He didn't agree, his expression said that clearer than words could, but he didn't argue anymore.

More snow had fallen last night, but not enough to fully mask the tracks that Ysanne had left carrying Edmond to the house. She walked in her own footprints, saving herself the effort of slogging through the deep snow, and held up her petticoats so they wouldn't slow her down. She'd forgotten to put on shoes, and the fresh snow crunched under her bare feet.

It felt good to have a purpose again, one that didn't revolve around heartbreak, and Ysanne even allowed herself a small smile when the carriage came into sight, dusted with snow. She'd never believed in fate – especially not considering the cruel hands she had been dealt – but maybe she was meant to find Edmond last night. And even if it was only coincidence, she had found him, and now he felt like her responsibility. The poor boy had no family, no home, nowhere to go.

But Ysanne could take care of him.

The bodies were all still here, frozen where they had fallen, their faces stiff and blue, hair spiky with ice, and Ysanne carefully picked her way between them. When she reached the carriage, she paused.

The horses were still hitched to the carriage, and Ysanne felt a twinge of guilt. One of them was still standing, but its head hung and there were icicles in its mane. The other was long dead. She should have cut them free, rather than abandoning them to the cold.

She approached the living horse, and this time it didn't shy away from her. It simply watched her with dull eyes as she ran a hand over its back, murmuring softly. Perhaps it no longer saw her as a predator, or perhaps the poor thing was too exhausted and cold to be afraid.

Ysanne snapped the traces with her bare hands, freeing the horse, and when it didn't move, she gave it a little slap on the rump. It startled, taking a couple of hesitant steps forward, pawing at the snow, then turned its head and nosed at its dead companion, ears twitching.

Ysanne had intended to let it run free and take its chances with the winter like any other animal, but now she wondered if it was better to take it with her. Horses were useful animals – for Edmond, more than herself. If he had nothing but the clothes on his back, then a horse would be worth its weight in gold.

She held out a hand to the horse, and it warily eyed her.

"Come on," she murmured, reaching for the reins, but the horse tossed its head and stepped back.

She moved with it, but the horse snorted and reared, kicking out with ice-caked front hooves, and Ysanne dodged back to avoid a cracked skull. She had survived several things that would kill a human, but she had no wish to test the limits of her immortality. Vampires couldn't heal from everything.

The horse tossed its head again, stamping at the ground, and then it bolted, broken traces streaming behind.

Ysanne let it go. On normal terrain, even a vampire couldn't keep up with a horse at full gallop, but the snow slowed the animal down and Ysanne could probably have caught it if she had put her mind to it. But trying to force it back to the house would get one – or both – of them hurt, and Ysanne couldn't risk taking any more blood from Edmond yet.

She went around to the side of the carriage. Her trunk still lay on the floor where it had fallen last night. Marcel had hoisted it into the carriage for her when they set off on their journey, and she'd let him, because revealing how strong she really was just invited trouble. She glanced down at his body, still slumped against the carriage where he had fallen protecting a woman who didn't need to be protected.

How long until his family realised he wasn't coming home?

Ysanne shook her head, trying to banish those thoughts. She deeply regretted the deaths of the men she had hired to come out here with her, but there was nothing she could do to change what had happened. The only life left to save was Edmond's.

Grabbing the trunk by one brass handle, she hauled it out into the snow. Then she tore down the heavy curtains that hung across the windows – she could use them to fill the gaps in the house's boarded windows - and wrapped them around the trunk so they would be easier to carry.

Finally, she stripped the clothes from the bodies of her guards. They were torn and stained, and Ysanne hated that she was taking away their dignity in death, leaving them naked in the snow, but Edmond's life was worth more than the dignity of dead men.

She needed to be practical.

But one thing she would not leave was Julien's tree. Reaching into the carriage once more, she lifted it out, carefully settling it lengthwise across the trunk. Then she picked up the trunk and started to walk home.