Page 88 of Now Comes the Mist

“What did you say?” I whisper.

“Please,” she utters again as a tear rolls down her cheek. “Kill me.”

“Are you making her say this?” I demand of Vlad, appalled.

But he only says, his voice cold and even, “Drain her, Lucy.”

I look into the woman’s eyes, so conscious and alert and full of sadness. She blinks at me, and the plea in her eyes convinces me. She wants to be free.

“Kill me,” she murmurs again.

My arms are around her, and my fangs are buried in her throat before I even register that I have moved. She lets out a sharp gasp and freezes as her blood—as sweet and mellow as it smells—gushes into my mouth. I hear Vlad laughing as I drink and drink and drink, and the woman sinks to her knees once more. I bend to keep my lips fastened to her neck, the salty taste of her skin melding beautifully with the honey of her blood. I have never tasted anything so delicious in all my life, not even the meals Papa had favored, full of garlic and herbs, or the strawberry cakes I had once loved above all else.Stop, I try to tell myself.You have fed enough. You can stop this now. Let her go, let her live.But my predatory body refuses to obey. My fangs remain embedded in her skin and my hands clench on her shoulders, and I am lost, lost to the oblivion of satisfying my all-encompassing need to consume. She gives a muffled moan, her face pressed into me as I drink until there is nothing left but an empty shell that crumbles at my feet.

My face is wet with my own tears. I feel a curious mingling of grief and exaltation—a simultaneous clench of my heart for this second life I have stolen and the spreading stain upon my soul, but also the relief of my hunger subsiding and the joy of the fresh new blood pouring through my body. Perhaps it will always be this way—perhaps this momentary despair and this intoxicating euphoria will forever appear side by side, with every person I dare harm.

I fall to my knees before the slain woman, weak with remorse and self-hatred.

“Do you see the peace on her face?” Vlad asks. “You have given her a gift.”

“Don’t,” I sob.

“Now, watch carefully. This is how we dispose of our food.” He lifts his hand, and the mist rises, wrapping itself around the dead woman’s body like puppet strings and pulling her to her feet. She does not fall, to my shock, but stands with her head drooping to one side and her arms limp. The ropes of fog grow thicker and thicker until they cover her completely, and I see her eyes open, empty and sightless. Her mouth hangs agape as she staggers through the mist like a lost, dead wanderer, and the sight of it reminds me of my dreams—of sometimes seeing other people stumbling in the silvery fog, some of them dead.

“What have you done to her?” I ask shakily.

“I have hidden her in the mist. It is a world few inhabit, and the perfect place to conceal one’s indiscretions. Her shell will wander on and on, as will those of everyone we kill, and not a soul in the waking world will be any the wiser. I did the same with that vagrant you drank,” he adds, looking at me expectantly as the dead woman staggers deeper into the mist and finally vanishes. “Well? Where is my thanks?”

I stare at him in numb silence.

“What’s the matter, Lucy? Have you realized the consequences of your actions at last? Do you finally understand that the foolish story you told yourself—about choosing this existence because you didn’t want your loved ones to grieve—was a fairy tale?” Vlad comes over and tilts my chin up to meet the dead mirrors of his eyes, which refuse to reflect me. “It was purely selfish on your part. You wanted to hold on to Arthur and Mina, but without responsibility. To please him but earn your freedom at the same time, and to keep her without having to act upon your lust. Oh yes, my dear, I know every corner of your wretched soul.”

I try to pull away, but his fingers tighten on my chin. “You know nothing about love,” I spit. “Don’t speak of Arthur and Mina as though you knowanythingabout them.”

“I know they will hate you.”

“They will love me even now. Arthur said he would still want me.”

Vlad lifts me onto my feet. “It would have been better if you had died,” he says with quiet malevolence, leaning in until our noses almost touch. “And Arthur and Mina would agree.”

I haul back and slap him across the face, my body reacting before my mind has even registered the thought. His head barely moves, no doubt having anticipated my blow long before it fell, but his eyes narrow to jagged pinpricks. My handprint appears, pink upon his white cheek.

“I made you, Lucy,” he says softly, wrapping his large, brutal hand around my throat. “And I can unmake you. With one movement, I could snap your head off like a dandelion and render your choice useless. Everything you sacrificed will have been for nothing.”

“I cared for you,” I choke out, clutching his wrist. “I would never have loved you, nor you me. But I would have tried to make you happy had you been the man on the cliffs.”

“And who am I if not that man?”

“Someone both cruel and common. Someone disappointing,” I say, coughing. If I am to die, strangled by his hand, then I will die speaking mytruth. “That man on the cliffs treated me as no one ever has: as a person with hopes worthy of respect. He was kind and generous, though I was mortal and he was all-powerful.” My tears splash onto his hand, and he flinches. “Kill me, then, Vlad, for I know I will never see that man again.”

“He is here, you silly, vain, self-obsessed girl. He is here, andyouhave changed.”

“We both have,” I say, my voice soft and full of grief. “You wanted me to stay a pawn in your game, but I refused. That is why you hate me now.”

He lets go of me and turns away, but not before I see the rare emotion in his eyes. “It is not your business what I feel. You are only to do whatever I say. I’m afraid, my dear, that in your unseemly quest to escape from society’s rules, you failed to take into account that there would benewrules. And as your husband and master, I have you at my bidding.”

I ball my hands into fists. “You do not. I have power of my own—”

Vlad whirls around, his face full of laughter. “Power! You think breaking a flimsy coffin or floating upon the air ispower? My poor, ignorant girl, let me show you the truth.” He takes a seat at the head of the table once more. “Come and stand before me.”

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