"Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall."
~ William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure
__________
Lucy slept in blissful oblivion until eight o'clock that night. She had no dreams, at least none that she remembered, much to what she assumed would be Evelyne's disappointment.
After an indulgent bath, Lucy paid an overdue visit to the manor's second floor library. Once inside the impressive assemblage of shelves and volumes, she went to the collection of books Sir Wilhern had given her upon her arrival. All were books thought to be of myth and folklore featuring one common theme: vampires. Had she read these volumes prior to her transformation, she would have thought of them as beautiful and ghastly dark fairytales, rather than the useful reference books that they truly were.
Now she knew better.
Before meeting Dr. Reed, she had been happy to remain in a state of ignorance regarding her new existence. But as things stood now, she knew that information and research were her greatest allies. Knowledge was power. It had always served her well as a human, and she had every reason to believe that would continue in her present state. The more she knew about vampires and their history, the greater chance she had of survival against the trials to come.
For the better part of three hours, Lucy scoured the hefty volumes. There was a plethora of valuable information, most of which was written as lore and in complete disbelief of the writer of the text. She learned that a pinch of garlic mixed in any liquid could decrease her metabolism enough to sedate her appetite for several hours. She learned that ingesting even one drop of another vampire's blood from the vein could allow her to see their memories, almost as vividly as if she had lived them herself.
Centuries of knowledge, yet she found no mention of the Ceremony of Unity, or its rites.
Feeling a mild disappointment, Lucy closed the books and returned them to their shelves.
There would be time for more research tomorrow. Tonight she had an engagement.
The grandfather clock at the base of the staircase had long since struck midnight, and Lucy dressed with a giddy excitement. She donned another of Evelyne's gifts: a satin gown of deep ocean blue with a tapered waist and long, flowing sleeves. She twisted the front of her hair into a complicated roll at the crown of her head, and secured it with a jeweled silver comb. The rest of her hair she left cascading down her back in loose curls.
She gazed at herself in the vanity mirror, and her reflection smiled back at her. She found the result of her efforts to be quite lovely. Hopefully Dr. Reed would agree.
Downstairs, she retrieved her cloak and satchel, and found Dr. Rosencrantz' letter, left on the table where promised.
Placing the letter and beloved handkerchief inside the satchel for safe keeping, Lucy walked out into the night.
She stayed along the main streets, her pace steady and swift.
As she passed an alleyway situated between a bakery and a tailor's shop, Lucy heard the sounds of snarls and slurping. Turning her head, she saw the outline of three white, skeletal figures hunched over a black mass. Lupines, as Virgil called them. They were feeding on a dead dog. Their hairless heads darted and snapped at the poor deceased creature, and they ripped chunks of flesh from its body with their deformed fangs in an attempt to consume every drop of blood.
With a shudder, Lucy turned away from the grotesque display, and hurried down the street. She didn't look back.
She made quick work of the journey across town, eager for the promised reunion. Her skin tingled in anticipation as she hurried along, and soon enough, London Hospital stood before her, still foreboding, but almost regal in the hazy moonlight.
Entering with far less apprehension than she had the night before, she strode across the lobby and approached the orderly at the admissions desk.
She saw with some relief that the desk was manned by the same pudgy gent she had met the previous night. That should simplify matters.
"Good evening. I'm here to see Dr. Reed, please," she said.
The orderly, harrassed by the mounds of paperwork he was sifting through, barely gave her a glance. "Just missed him, love. He went out to West End, 'bout an hour ago. House call, or the like."
Lucy's face fell a fraction. "Do you know when he will return?"
"Can't say, love," the orderly said. "Depends on the condition of the patient, I s'pose."
"Did he happen to mention where in West End?" Lucy asked.
The orderly thought for a moment, tapping his rounded chin with a chubby finger. "Matter 'a fact, he did. 'Round the corner from Drury Lane, he said. I know, 'cause I joked with him that it was too late fer'a show."
"I see. Thank you."
Retreating back outside, Lucy sighed. What should she do? She could wait. Or she could walk in the direction of West End on the off-chance she could intercept Dr. Reed on his return journey. He had likely taken the route along the River Thames; it was fairly direct and well-lit. Once she was close enough, she would be able to pick up his scent and lack of heartbeat.
Deciding that was the best choice of recourse, she began a swift trot in the direction of West End.
She felt a twinge in her stomach that had nothing to do with nerves. She realized with some dismay that, in her excitement to see the doctor again, she had completely forgotten to feed.
She dipped her hand into her pocket for the vial of blood capsules, but the pocket was empty. The vial remained in last night's gown.
She pushed her worry away. It didn't matter at the moment. Her hunger was not severe.
Besides, she was in control.
The temperature had dropped considerably since the previous night; enough to unleash a staggering chill in the air. Not a single snowflake fell, but Lucy's breath came out in a white cloud each time she exhaled. She found it amusing to see the frigid plume she could produce, and continuously tried to create one larger than those she had before.
As she walked, Lucy tested her vampiric senses. She could hear, see, and smell things her mortal self would never have noticed. Periodic beggars roamed the streets, scavenging for anything edible or supplying warmth. From a second story window, she heard an infant's cry. A cat hissed from beneath an empty fruit stand.
Then Lucy's nose and ears fixated on one of her own kind. Still a short distance off, but with no attempt to hide his presence, Lucy could hear the steady pace of footfalls but lack of heartbeat, and smell a fragrant mixture of herbs, soap, and rosemary...
Dr. Reed.
She was getting close. Would he be happy to see her? The dancing butterflies in her stomach returned, causing her to quicken her pace.
Until her body was brought to an abrupt halt by a particularly pungent odor.
Lucy's head snapped up and she whirled around in an effort to find the source of the assaulting smell. Through the gray haze, she saw a man stumble out from an alley, his clothing dirty and tattered. Bumbling about, he could barely stay on his feet. After several failed attempts to walk in a straight line, he slid to the ground, back against the nearest wall, one hand splayed across his midsection.
What Lucy had originally taken for mere drunkenness was rediagnosed as injury. It wasn't only booze she was smelling. It was blood. And lots of it.
Her insides twisted.
Her stomach, such a dead organ only moments before, was leaping inside of her, demanding her attention. Her skin prickled from her scalp to her toes. Her mouth went dry. Her pupils dilated.
Thirst.
This was the Thirst.
She edged closer, feeling her gums grow numb as her fangs elongated. Her predatory impulses threatened to overtake her sense and conciousness. This creature's blood would be hers.
Its life would be hers...
But wait.
No!
She was no monster! From which level of hell had these heinous thoughts come?
Freezing in her tracks, she raked her fingers through her hair. The instinctual pull toward the drunkard was so strong that her body refused to listen to the commands of her panicked mind. Her feet continued to move her forward, despite her will to remain in place. Torn, Lucy fell to her knees against the twisting inside of her. Her hands clawed at the sides of her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and cried out: "Dr. Reed!"
Only he could help her. Only he could understand the blood lust that threatened to consume her.
"Dr. Reed!"
She could smell him.
He was close.
So near.
There.
Right there.
Just beyond her reach.
She could see nothing but the injured man. Hear nothing but his pounding heart. Smell nothing but his blood.
"Lucy! What happened? Are you hurt?"
Dr. Reed's voice.
It was so far away.
All she could see was the blood.
The injured drunkard peeled his hand away from his stomach. He had an open, jagged wound the length of six inches or more. He'd been stabbed.
From the man came a wet gurgling. He seemed to be trying to speak, but only succeeded in making a hollow, bubbling sound.
"What happened? Lucy!" Dr. Reed's voice cried out. "Answer me!"
Lucy knew, somewhere beyond the black veil that had descended over her, that Dr. Reed was kneeling by her side. She heard him ask her what had happened; what was wrong. She heard him call her by her name. Not "Miss Penn," but "Lucy." Yet she could not answer. His words sounded like he was speaking in tongues. He was next to her, yet for all he could help her, they may as well have been on opposite ends of the Earth.
Each time she nearly gave in and felt herself reach for the injured man, a wave of bliss came over her. Unadulterated rapture. Euphoria. Her physical pain decreased by an overwhelming margin, her skin tingled in delight, and she felt urged closer still, her instincts pushing her toward the man's blood.
Then terror and disgust would take hold again, and she would force herself to remain in place, kneeling on the frozen cobblestones, her arms wrapped around her torso as though her self-embrace was the only thing keeping her from going everywhere at once.
And oh, how she suffered then.
A splitting pain erupted in her head, causing her vision to spot and flicker. Her internal organs twisted and clenched. Her throat burned. Her entire body rebelled against her, furious with her for denying her instincts. For denying her most basic need.
Blood.
She needed blood.
So this was thirst. The real thirst. The reason most of her kind were monstrous, evil creatures driven by bloodlust and insanity. They had felt this. They had given in. They had let it consume them — their minds fleeing along with their morals and humanity. Again and again they had let the thirst overrun all else, and the end result was madness encased in skin and fangs.
Clawing at her sides, she repeated an internal scream:
I am not a monster!
I am not a monster!
But she was.
However small, a part of her was.
The realization severed her further from the rational part of herself, like a splinter in her mind.
Lucy fought until she could bear it no longer.
Shoving Dr. Reed aside, she surged at the drunken, injured man, yanking his head back with a fist full of his filthy hair. She sank her pulsing fangs into the soft flesh of his neck, piercing the large blue vein in his throat.
The world vanished in his ebbing heartbeat.
She drank.
Her thoughts were a wordless, shapeless typhoon of vermilion mania.
This was life. Liquid life. And it would all be hers.
"No."
A voice. Interrupting her bliss.
"Lucy. Stop."
She felt Dr. Reed's hands close around her shoulders. He gripped with startling force and pulled, breaking her away from her victim's throat.
Lucy could feel her own preternatural strength surging through her petite body, yet Dr. Reed was far stronger, his grip uncompromising and unbreakable. Were she human, he would have crushed her bones. She tried to break free of his grasp, the blood of the injured man calling out to her like a siren's song, but struggle though she might, the miniscule drop of humanity still conscious within her was grateful for Dr. Reed's interference.
She lost the test of strength, and the pair tumbled backward.
She heard a low growling rumble, and was shocked to realize the sound was coming from her. Her still-elongated fangs pierced her bottom lip which was already wet with the man's blood.
"Lucy..." Dr. Reed's voice cut into her psychosis.
Brow furrowed in confusion, she met his gaze. She saw a horde of emotions in his dark eyes. A dollop of blood trickled from her mouth down her chin. Her impulses still overpowering her rationale, she felt a wave of desire sweep through her.
And so did he.
She could see it. She could smell it.
He was looking at her the way Virgil had looked at Evelyne.
Lucy felt a jolt of warning, of alarm, at how wrong it was to be pricked by the spur of arousal during such an odious act. But that jolt mutated into a submissive sigh as her gaze migrated from his eyes to his lips. Lust swelled inside her like a growing tumor.
Before she could fully fathom the foreign sensation, Dr. Reed's mouth was on hers, kissing her hungrily as if he meant to devour her.
She knew by the visceral reaction of her body that this was what she wanted. Him. She wanted him. Her initial surprise evaporated and a torrent of longing enveloped her.
Her eyes drifted closed in a lazy trance...
...and she surrendered.
It was the first time she'd ever experienced such hunger. The combination of the living blood she had taken and the passion with which Dr. Reed was kissing her was so powerful and intoxicating, that Lucy momentarily lost herself in a world of white. She threw her arms around Dr. Reed's neck and returned the kiss with severity, allowing him to taste the blood on her lips and tongue. Their mouths moved together in a desirous dance.
The world faded away.
Everything outside their kiss and embrace was a blur. A mirage lost in the fog. Unreal.
Arthur had never kissed her like this. He had been affectionate, even doting, but a graze of his lips against her knuckles, or the apple of her cheek had been most common. Nothing like this erotic and impassioned delirium.
The thought of Arthur hit her hard, as though she had jumped from a great height and abruptly met the ground. She had been human, and not long ago at that. What had she done? Had she really taken the blood of a living person? What would become of him?
No. The questions could wait a few moments more. She was not yet ready to part from Dr. Reed.
She craned her neck and tilted her chin to allow him easier access to her mouth. Her fingers raked through the thick hair on the back of his head. She felt his hands grasp desperately at her cloak, flinging the folds of material aside. His arms encircled her waist, and he pulled her body flush against his - a tangle of limbs, fabric, lips, and blood.
Together they knelt on the cold ground, inches from the bleeding drunkard, mouths fused in desire and hunger.
When at last their lips parted and their eyes met, their shared expression was heady and astounded. Lucy let out a shallow, ragged breath, skimming her fingertips along the edge of Dr. Reed's jaw.
She wanted more.
All too soon, Dr. Reed pulled away, leaving Lucy feeling momentarily lost and cold.
"We have to leave," he said.
"Leave..? Why?"
Her voice sounded foreign in her ears.
A handful of seconds passed in hazy confusion before her mind returned to the present moment and present...predicament.
Her eyes going wide with horror, Lucy turned her head. The drunken man was slumped there, unmoving against the wall. Dirty, bloodied, and with no trace of a heartbeat.
The realization of what had come to pass made Lucy's stomach lurch with a sick panic.
She was responsible for this carnage.
Hearing the shouts and telltale sounds of approaching authorities, her panic grew. She grabbed Dr. Reed for support and forced herself to stand.
"Someone must have seen that he was injured," Dr. Reed speculated. "The police have been summoned."
"Leave. Yes," Lucy said, her voice tight with fear. "We must leave."
He took her hand, and they ran.
So disoriented were her thoughts and body, that, had Dr. Reed not been there to lead the way, she likely would have run straight into the hands of those who would condemn her.
She followed Dr. Reed without thought or question, her mind collapsing in on itself from panic and guilt, her vision blurred with tears.
What had she done?
She had let herself become a monster. The monster had fed and killed, then vanished, leaving the human-esque Lucy to comprehend the horror and feel the shame.
How far they ran, she didn't know. But at some point their flee came to an end, and Dr. Reed approached a two-story, nondescript little dwelling. Nestled among the dark shops, the house appeared small and forgotten.
"Who lives here?" Lucy asked.
"I do," he replied.
From his coat pocket, Dr. Reed pulled a key. He unlocked the front door and wordlessly coaxed Lucy inside.
Dr. Reed's hand, cold against her own icy skin, was the only thing anchoring Lucy to this world. To reality. To the abhorrent truth that was her own deeds.
She was hesitant to enter this dark and foreign home, yet she knew Dr. Reed would not lead her into the hands of danger or trial. Though she alone had committed the atrocity, to the unknowing eye they appeared equally guilty: disheveled, glassy-eyed, and unkempt, with smears of unfamiliar blood on their faces and clothes. Hers for her transgressions, and his for kissing rather than berating her.
The memory of their macabre, moonlit kiss brought a touch of heat to her frigid cheeks. Regardless of all other reasons, her smitten nature for Dr. Reed consecrated her trust in him. If he thought this place safe, then safe it was.
Without her knowledge of how or when, he had placed her on the sofa before the fireplace. Within minutes, he had a fire crackling, and a few sporadic lamps lit. Just enough light for her to see the blood staining her palms and drying on her dress.
Dr. Reed took a seat next to her, and she felt his hand close around hers again.
Lucy's wits slowly began to return to her. The momentary relief she felt due to their safe haven broke the stunned silence of her tongue, and she turned to Dr. Reed with naked fear in her eyes.
"What have I done?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "Dr. Reed... What...have I done..?"
His grip on her hand tightened.
"Lucy," he said, his voice soft, "what you've done was nothing more than an act of instinct. Impulse. We are what we are." He nudged her chin with a gentle knuckle, trying to get her to look at him. "Perhaps you even shortened his suffering."
"Shortened his suffering?" Lucy repeated his words, her pitch elevated and her consonants clipped in anger.
She leapt to her feet and took up a frantic pacing in front of the hearth.
"Do not try to justify my crimes with fleeting ideals of selflessness!" she cried. "I killed him! Already suffering or not, his death is on my hands! I held him down, drank his blood, and murdered him!"
Her hysterical cries became a low rumble as she stared down at Dr. Reed, withheld tears shining in her wide, horrified eyes.
"I murdered him," she said again, her voice trembling. "And if I am completely forthcoming and honest...I enjoyed it."
Lucy regarded the doctor with unblinking defiance for several silent seconds, as if daring him to judge her or be disgusted with her. When he gave no sign of either, Lucy felt her hardened façade and knees give out in the same instant, and she crumpled like a burning scrap of paper before the fire, her head in hands. She could feel the delicious blood of the deceased coursing through her veins, giving her renewed energy and heightened senses, and it doubled her grief.
Unable to restrain her tears for even a moment longer, she sobbed into her hands. She could still smell the man's blood on her palms.
"Is this what is to be my reality?" she cried, the walls of despair closing in, threatening to crush her. "Is this what I should now expect of my life? This ugliness? Thirst, then murder, then guilt? I cannot lead such an existence! I cannot be a murderer! I cannot!"
Dr. Reed broke through the downpour of her pain, his voice hushed and soothing. "Lucy, I am not justifying or condemning the actions of anyone. I do not have the right."
The sound of his voice was calm and collected in comparison with her sorrow.
"I am merely trying to help you grasp the situation for what it is," the physician continued. "This is the first time you have caused death. Your first kill. You have no basis for comparison, therefore you are blaming yourself in ways you should not. Yes, you sped up the passing of an injured, bleeding man. But, Lucy, for a vampire, especially one so tenderfoot as you, that is hardly damning."
He slid forward off the sofa, kneeling on the floor beside her.
"Your sins compared to mine," he murmured, "are one drop in a limitless ocean."
"What do you mean?" Lucy asked.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of a scarlet hand, Lucy looked up at Dr. Reed's face. What she saw there was anguish and heartache that rivalled her own.
Dr. Reed's jaw clenched and released.
"My first kill...was Enola," he confessed. His voice broke as he spoke her name. "I murdered my wife."
~ * ~