Winter’s Tale
8 Sixth night, part 2 — Bite
Layla turned to face us, all reluctance abandoned, which was unnerving but flattering. She waved me away, so I took a couple of paces back, but remained questionably close, perhaps infringing the edge of their personal space. I wanted to be ready to intervene if needed but moreover I sought a clear view.
“Yes,” I hissed, excited that Summer and, soon after, I would be fulfilling our shared dreams. A real vampire would be taking our blood but also a true love. We could never have hoped for such providence until our goddess entwined our destines. Though I had always craved this, as it manifested moment-to-moment, it all seemed so curiously unknown. Brimming with arousal, I plunged into that lustful headspace where my only focus was the fulfilment of our desires, Layla’s, Summer’s and mine.
“Stand or kneel?” Summer asked coquettishly.
“Stand,” Layla commanded.
“Yes, Layla,” Summer sneaked her submission into the moment. She casually tossed her head left and right, offering our beloved the choice of side to sink her teeth into until Layla indicated her preference with a casual waft of her finger.
“Last chance. You truly want this?” Layla asked.
“Yes, beloved. I do,” Summer replied, voice husky with undisguised desire.
Layla’s demeanour changed in a heartbeat. Her natural authority transmogrified into the poise of a predator. Though nothing about her appearance truly changed, everything did. Leaning in, head lowered, eyes ravenous. So startling was the alteration that it was hard to judge how much her appetites were in control. For the first time, I considered we may have provoked a tiger.
In response, Summer abandoned her playfulness in favour of a cool solemnity, though I also detected a glimmer of apprehension. If Layla did not stop feeding, I had hoped I might interrupt her. Now that seemed folly. I tried to recall how strong she had seemed in recent nights, the ease with which she climbed the waterfall, the stone-like density of her muscles, the power of her grip. Regretfully, I realised there might be no stopping our beloved. A conflict shot through me between the instinct to protect my cherished twin by calling a halt to this madness and an urgent, carnal need to see our beloved feed from her.
Layla’s mouth pried open to let us witness the nightmarish transformation of her canines into four impossibly honed points. They looked exactly as I had imagined them. So precisely did they match my fantasies, they gave me the disorienting impression of having seen them before, as impossible as that was. Despite the obvious threat, I was again gripped by the privilege that this incredible woman had chosen us as her lovers. Beginning to comprehend the truth of her nature perversely filled me with pride that we had been claimed by such a potent creature.
Summer craned her neck further, inviting those fangs while trying to keep her eyes on them. Layla advanced with precise feline movements that seemed to grow more sedate, the closer she drew. Was she slowing down or just my perception of time?
The tension became unbearable. I had to stop this. That was my sister, right in front of me, about to be bitten by a vampire. I should save her, pull her back, do something, but all my oft-repeated fantasies of this very moment forbade me. I had to see, to know. Though this was my dream, the awful reality of it made me doubt I had ever truly desired it. I wanted to scream, or push Layla away, but moreover I had a depraved urge to touch myself.
As Layla’s arms enfolded Summer, my sister snatched a glance at me, and I understood. She was afraid, but wanted this so much she could barely comprehend it. She recognised my apprehension but her look begged me not to interfere. I remained a silent voyeur, planted to my spot in a salacious haze. Half in a trance, with one hand I lifted the skirt of my dress so the other could begin massaging the length of my quim.
Layla’s fangs were so close now. I could see Summer’s chest heaving in fear, lust, anticipation. She could no longer track Layla’s mouth from the corner of her eye, so she looked away to await her fate, giving herself over to her long-held fantasy.
“Please,” she whispered into the night, looking to the stars. “Do it.”
Layla shifted to look straight at me with the same intensity as the night she first kissed Summer, then her mouth descended on to my sister’s throat. I felt phantom echoes on my neck as the fangs slid into my twin’s flesh, a wet flash of crimson at the last moment before Layla’s lips sealed about the bite. I dared not breathe as my stroke steadily increased. I never did this without Summer but could not stop myself. All my deepest dreams were manifesting to hold me transfixed.
Summer gave a short, high-pitched shriek and briefly thrashed against Layla, but our beloved was immovable. For a moment, I was wracked with fright, but then Summer’s struggles stopped. She let out a long, loud, low moan and suddenly began tenaciously clutching our lover to her.
The more Layla drained Summer’s sacrificial blood, the more sonorous my sister’s groans grew. Our lover’s eyes never left mine; the bottomless depth of her yearning for me so lucid it was as if she spoke aloud. I want you, Winter. I want you next. I want your blood.
Under her covetous scrutiny, I pressed harder into myself, urgently racing towards rapture.
Summer’s grip weakened, then her arms fell away as her vitality wilted, knees buckled and all that held her upright was our beloved’s remarkable strength. Perhaps I should have been concerned for my twin’s safety but instead I could only think this was the most erotic display I had ever seen, and it pushed me, shuddering, over the edge. The entire tableau cannot have taken more than two score heartbeats, but it had seemed an age. Then it was done.
Layla licked Summer’s neck three times like a cat and stepped back, still holding her so she might regain her senses, strength and footing. I dropped my skirt, wiped my hand, and advanced to lend Summer an arm as our beloved let her go. My twin’s hand was cool like our lover’s.
My eyes were drawn to the tiny, dark rivulets trickling down her neck, glistening in the moonlight. Four puncture wounds, neat but deep, gently weeping blood. Having seen pigs slaughtered many times, this paltry seepage made no sense. Her blood should be gushing from such an injury, but the wound was already staunching.
There was a drunken, distant look in Summer’s eyes, a dreamy half-smile on her lips. Blinking haphazardly, she focused on me as she fought to regain herself.
“Winter, you must…” Summer urged. “So much better than… imagined… it… glorious… you… she…” she gesticulated towards her wound. “It is so… oh, you will see. Layla… you marvellous, marvellous creature.”
Focusing on Summer meant I had lost track of our beloved. She prowled close by, moon-eyed, mouth agog, arms flung wide, fingers clawed the air, trembling to contain the ecstasies my sister’s blood had wrought within her, her tongue danced about her fangs to scour every last drop.
“Exquisite,” Layla declared, her voice slow and low. She tightly hugged herself until her trembling subsided, then ran her hands down her body. With a shudder, her fangs vanished, and, with a toss of her head, her usual ineffably confident demeanour resumed.
“Your turn, my darling Winter,” she ordered, reducing my life a single destiny.
I checked if Summer could stand unaided and, once convinced she could, let her go. I wanted to interrogate her further but what was the point? I would now find out for myself. The profundity of my pact-sisters’ reactions spoke for themselves, stoking my anticipation. Summer tottered over to the fallen tree and leaned on it, checking her wound. The bleeding had stopped.
Though I had been too absorbed in my own arousal to intervene when Layla fed from Summer, observing closely meant I could delude myself an intervention had been possible. In her dazed state it was unlikely Summer could interfere even if she wanted to, so I would have to rely solely on my lover’s restraint. This should have sent me bolting but did not. If my sister survived, I had every reason to assume I would too. With a deep breath, I steeled myself to become our beloved’s prey.
Over and over, I kept silently telling myself I wanted this, but aloud I said, “I am ready, beloved. I love you.” In part, this was to conjure my courage and in part to remind Layla how much she cared for me.
“Good. I love you too,” Layla replied, reassuring me but only for a moment. When she dropped into her predator’s stance it was a quite different prospect to have it focused on me. Still lost in a euphoric haze, Summer lazily eyed Layla approach me.
I felt the fear first. Maintaining a veneer of docility in the face of a monster was unnatural. My beloved meant to harm me, yet I yearned for it, with all the impetus of desires secretly nurtured for years. I wanted to be drained of my blood. I wanted to be bitten by inhuman fangs. I wanted to be helpless. I kept telling myself these things, but it became harder and harder to believe them the closer she drew. There was no use screaming. No one would come. There was no use running. Layla would catch me. Oh, my goddess, there were her fangs. Perfect, daunting, beautiful.
Displaying them was quite deliberate, I realised, flaunting my fate. At first, I wondered if she might be trying to scare me, to quicken my heartbeat, but foremost it stoked my lust. She would penetrate me in moments. My skin would be pierced, my blood would flow. I could not help but grind my thighs together at the thought. She would take her fill and there was nothing I could do to stop it. My quim was aflame.
Layla’s arms closed around me, and, to my great surprise, she was warm. She was never warm. Now she had heat, stolen from Summer’s blood. That thought brought unforeseen happiness amidst my turbulent lust and fear. She was strong too, limbs of liquid rock flowed about me. Left with no doubt escape was impossible, I was so subsumed by the moment, all that fled me was any desire to run.
She tilted her head to ease the approach of her intimidating maw. Then I could no longer see it, but her face kept inching towards my throat, oh-so slowly. I imagined her staring at Summer with unbridled desire just as she had stared at me. I flashed a glance at my twin and saw her, fingers buried in her cunt, which brought me a dash of joy. Her eyes were directed at Layla but unfocused, heavy lidded.
It felt as if I had been waiting for this bite forever, but Layla held back. I could feel the heat of her mouth right next to my skin. What was she waiting for? My mind raced and suddenly it was obvious.
“Please, Layla. Bite me. I beg you.”
Only then did I feel the sting of four needlepoints on my skin. Only when I knew it was inevitable did they sink into me with indecent ease. Only then did the pain come, more intense than I expected, eliciting a shrill but feeble cry. Fear ran through me like lightning, ousting my arousal. What was I doing? Why did I want this? How had I ever truly desired it? All my yearning for the bite fled in terror, candle smoke before a gale.
Overcome by the horrid reality of fangs in my flesh, I realised why Summer had thrashed against Layla. I had seen my sister’s terror but was so shamefully lost in my own lust it had blinded me. Now it was clear she had been vainly pushing this monster away because I was doing the same right now. But Layla was an oak, her strength incomprehensible. This nightmare fastened to my throat exposed the frailty of my mortality. I had volunteered for this, begged for it. Why? How could I have desired this when it brought only pain and terror?
All that in an instant before Layla began my exsanguination, when all my hurt and fear were washed away by a flood tide of delirious pleasure. The quartet of puncture wounds, suddenly, surprisingly, surpassingly sensitive, purest ecstasy flowed in a deluge. It was radically different from all prior delectations. The relentless finger-fucking of our first time had been a sensation that coursed into me. In being drunk from, the pleasure surged out of me, through those blessed wounds, into my beloved demigoddess. Nothing could have prepared me for that immaculate instant.
The bliss was far too acute for it to have been merely blood drained from me. I could only guess she must have taken part of my soul, a notion that incandescently delighted me. I only realised my arms had been desperately clutching her to me, when my strength waned, and they slid from her to hang helplessly by my sides. Her might only grew. With one hand she held my head in place while her other arm kept me clamped to her body.
If this was death it was the perfection of my life. For the first time, I appreciated why I was marked for Dahlk, as now she would surely accept my soul. As my eyelids fluttered, all thought was rendered impossible by euphoria that elongated time towards forever. But suddenly it was over. Only then did I comprehended my whole body had been quivering in orgasm the entire time and was just now abating. I giddily staggered backward, expecting to fall but was surprised to be caught by Summer’s waiting arms. I had forgotten she was there.
“How… long?” I wondered, as I tried to reacquaint myself with the concept of time. My throat was hoarse. Had I screamed? I could not recall.
“Twenty, maybe thirty heartbeats,” Summer answered. I smelled blood and arousal.
“No. A whole life surely? That cannot be... I… you… she… the…” I babbled. Now it was my turn to be incoherent.
Summer lowered me to the ground, or perhaps it was more of an assisted collapse as she lacked the strength to keep me upright. I was suddenly struck with the urge to abase myself before Layla, to crawl to her, offer myself again, to do whatever she wanted. None of that mattered because I sat up too quickly and almost passed out. Summer steadied me, bless her.
We looked to Layla, who stood before us, arching her back and running her hands through the pure white fountain of hair as she pulled her plait to pieces. In the moonlit clearing it was hard to be sure, but her flesh seemed to have taken on a blush of colour.
We sensed she would not drink from us again that night but as we looked to each other we saw in our twin’s eyes the absolute conviction that we would do anything it took to get her to drink from us again as soon as possible.
“You,” I pointed as much in the direction of Layla as I could manage. “You are a goddess. Why did you fear to bite us when you must have known the effect it has? Why were you so reticent to visit such a divine adventure upon us?”
It was a while before I could recall any of what happened next, and much longer before it was all made clear to me.
“I had no such reticence. That was all pretence,” Layla answered with blunt clarity. “It was my desire for you to choose to have me to drink from you. I favour mortal blood laced with trust. Its subtle complexities are pleasing to me above almost everything else. Plus, I needed you in a certain frame of mind for your first time. Now I have drunk from you properly, so you are mine entirely. Your trust belongs to me forever. But I am getting ahead of myself, it is difficult because I do so want to be completely transparent with you, but you are not ready for that. Not yet. Forget everything I just said.”
The marks written across our foreheads blazed with power. Intense cold in every symbol drove shards of ice into our skulls as Layla’s words gripped our souls and squeezed.
“Yes, Layla,” our mouths spoke in unison, and with enthusiasm, but against our will. For an instant I was dumbfounded, but the intense pressure of the magic pouring into my mind reflexively triggered a stubborn resistance within me. My eyes darted to Layla. Care, compassion and condolence danced across her eyes within a resolute, determined mask of concentration, and I knew the words on my tongue were hers. This was her doing, she was controlling me with magic and, to my shame, I profoundly rejoiced in it. But why had our beloved deceived us? I looked to Summer, but she collapsed beside me, eyes wide open but entirely white. She had succumbed. She had not even resisted.
In the face of such sorcery, my will was woefully insufficient. That was all the defiance I could muster. Darkness encroached about my vision from all sides and my last thought was not of betrayal but of a sadness that I could not experience whatever Layla was doing to me. The thought of that still disturbs me.
Following my twin as ever, my eyes rolled far back in their sockets and I sank on a wave of luxurious pleasure, all thought obliterated. In exchange for mindless ecstasy the magic sought all memory of Layla’s confession and suppressed it. We writhed in orgasm, spasming on the grass side-by-side, trapped under the torrent of her power crashing over us again and again.
“Cleave to this joy, my beloved slaves. We have deeper pleasures to discover,” Layla announced, moving her hands in arcane patterns above our convulsions.
Hearing without comprehension, we screamed our affirmation into the night, “Yes, Layla! Yes!”
“You are completely mine at last, are you not?” Layla demanded triumphantly.
“Yes, Layla! Yes!” we screeched, thrashing and twisting under her spell.
“Your submission is now the core of you, yes?” Layla stated.
“Yes, Layla! Yes!” we cried as her magic laced our very souls with her words.
“There is no greater purpose than to obey me, yes?” Layla declared.
“Yes, Layla! Yes!” we yelled, mouths full of passion, minds emptied.
“I want more,” she demanded. Her hands clamped over our cunts and poured her magic into them.
“Yes, Layla! Yes!” we screamed. Wracked by crescendo after crescendo, she reduced us to mindless sensation, all the better to obliterate our will.
“And that will take just a little more time, just a little more patience. But your love is secured, is it not?” she ordered as her hands circled high to slap down across our hearts, pinning us to the ground, overcoming the throes of our violent climaxes.
“Yes, Layla! Yes!” Had we any awareness, in the face of that onslaught, we would have made any vow she demanded. But the choice was not ours.
“Your pleasure is mine now. It will bind you, shape you, guide you, make what I wish of you,” she explained, as her hands made a final loop to smack our foreheads, where she brought her extraordinary grip to bear on our skulls.
“Yes, Layla! Yes!” She had our blood and a taste of our souls, so we were helplessly open to her enchantments.
“Know and believe that no power of mine makes you this way. These necessities are yours alone. You love only this,” she dictated.
“Ours alone. Love this. Yes, Layla, yes!” A lie one tells oneself is the perfect kind of truth as I would later learn.
“I saw your resistance, Winter. It will be addressed in due course. That is enough for now. Cease!” she commanded, releasing her grip and our bodies instantly fell limp. Behind the unseeing whites of our eyes, our minds swirled in euphoric wastelands. I have no doubt she could have fashioned us like clay, into anything she wished, but that was not her plan. Instead, she relented.
“Return to me, my beloved twins,” she ordered.
So, with that, just as she had buried her fangs in our throat, she had dug her claws into our souls, and we did not even know. Latent bridles forged with our very blood gave Layla dominion over us. With a whim she released our reins as if they never existed. Only she knew how tightly harnessed we were, as her commands incubated within us.
Once more, we were simply young women in love, having the time of our lives. We blinked away the cobwebs of what we deemed highly gratifying aftershocks. My wound throbbed in time with my pulse, verifying I yet lived. Layla could have killed us, but she had not. Though that initial, if momentary, terror at her bite was still vivid, the pleasure that had consumed us subsequently proved our faith in our beloved had been entirely justified.
“Because I was concerned this might happen. Blood loss can be an ordeal,” Layla said, in answer to my question. What had I just asked her? Something about her reticence to bite us?
Had I just passed out? Layla crouched to kindly offer her hand to help me up. I had just been looking straight at her but then was flat on my back and I ached all over, as if after strenuous exertion. I turned my head to stretch my neck and shuddered as I disturbed the wound. I felt a solitary drop of blood run down my neck. I caught it on my fingertip and looked at it in wonder, then popped it in my mouth to taste. It was only blood. It seemed insufficient to be pivotal to such a titanic event.
“What?” Summer asked, sitting up beside me, trying to steady herself, bewilderment at the enormity of our experience twisting her features. Had she passed out too? “What more could possibly happen than that paradise you visited upon us with your teeth?” She reached up to touch her bite but thought better of it.
“Well, that was not quite what happened. Are you both well?” Layla asked, concerned at our scrambled wits.
“No, not well; wonderful. Just wonderful,” Summer mumbled.
“That was,” I paused trying to collect the disparate fragments of my mind. “The greatest experience ever. You are divine. I pity anyone who has not had the privilege of knowing the joy within your bite.”
“We love you,” Summer added, trying to stand, a little unsteadily, but succeeding. “Those who fear your nature are ignorant. And fools. Curse them all.”
“So, you liked it?” Layla smiled, playful again.
“No. ‘Like’ is far too small a word. That was the wind and the rain, the earth and the sky. That was the stuff of stars. No, the darkness between stars,” Summer struggled and failed to wax poetic, which she sometimes did when inebriated. “You, my beloved, are the most special creature in all creation.”
“Steady, Sum. You sound drunk,” I told her.
“Thank you kindly, Summer. It is appreciated. So, as I was saying,” Layla said, as we both listened intently. “The bite brings great pleasure.”
We nodded reflexively causing another aftershock in our wounds. We were clear about the pleasure. I could tell Summer was about to interrupt again to extol the bite’s virtues, but I silenced her with a wave of my hand.
“Many find it so desirable they think they are in love with its giver, but they are not. They are in love with what it does to them. I dare not have attempted to drink from you before I was sure our love was true. Which, of course, I am. Do you see?” Layla explained.
“We do,” I said, testing my balance, feeling a lot steadier thanks to Layla’s hand. Her touch was a whole new experience. Knowing her nascent warmth was something I had contributed to made me think I had done something important. I would have been lying if I had claimed the bite had not heightened my ardour. But then literally everything we did together intensified my love for Layla.
Summer took Layla’s other hand and made the happy discovery. “You are warm! Did we do that?”
“Yes. Your blood flows through my veins now,” Layla said, making my quim quiver. “I do not really notice the cold, but the warmth is a pleasing change. Your blood will keep me warm for a day or so.”
“I love the idea that part of us is inside you even when we are apart,” I said, suddenly a little coy, realising I was quite cold but not caring.
“You have no idea the joy it brings me,” Layla said, now a little coy herself.
“We will spend the rest of our lives making you happy, beloved,” Summer promised, running her finger over her wound and offering a smear of blood to our lover. Layla darted at it like a snake and sucked it clean in an instant with breath-taking efficiency. It made me want to bleed for her all over again.
“Thank you but no more of that, please. You will make it difficult if you keep tempting me. I dare not feed from you again tonight, we must not risk making you ill, but you would give me more blood if I asked, yes?” Layla enquired.
“Yes, Layla,” we said as one without hesitation. I saw the problem.
“Perhaps now, you better understand my reticence, my difficulties with trust? I needed to know your trust in me, in us, in our bond, was your own, and not a by-product of feeding from you,” Layla confessed.
“We do understand, darling,” Summer said. “But I hope we proved we do not only trust you with our hearts but with our lives. You being a vampire only makes our pact stronger.”
“Thank you very much, Summer,” Layla seemed truly touched. Acceptance must be so rare for her.
“And, you know… hotter,” Summer half-joked.
“May I add that we trust you with our souls,” I stroked the mark of Dahlk on my forehead. It was as cold as a mountain stream, but I liked it. Curious, I reached out to touch Layla’s and Summer’s marks, each as cold as mine. Instinctively, they did the same and for a blissful spell we stood in silent communion before our beloved spoke.
“Blessed Nightsinger, we offer our adoration. We serve only you. We have emptied our hearts of falsehoods. In darkness, we see your truth. Embrace us, your loyal servants. Cloak us in your shadow. Guide us to your victory. Dahlk’s will shall be done. As sure as night will fall. We beseech you to welcome Summer and Winter into your worship. Guide them, protect them, and they will love you and serve your will, for they accept the mark of Dahlk,” Layla prayed with reverence and joy. It was heartening to see this spiritual side of her.
“We accept the mark of Dahlk,” Summer and I said as one. I felt a brief, fresh pulse of cold under the warmth of the fingers on my mark.
“Did you feel that?” Summer exclaimed. “Like I could feel the darkness.”
“I did. It was cold. What does that mean?” I asked Layla, excitedly.
“It means Dahlk is beginning to take notice of you. She is a powerful goddess. You are hers now, her worshippers. If she shows you favour, perhaps you will become her priestesses in time,” Layla said. She was trying to underplay it, but I could tell she was delighted at that tiny sign. We knew next to nothing about Dahlk beyond what Layla told us but if she was important to her, she was important to us.
“We accept your blessings, Dahlk, Goddess of Darkness. Show us the way and we shall follow,” I affirmed.
“Make us your vessels, Nightsinger, that we may protect and serve your servant, the beloved Layla,” Summer prayed.
Our brief prayers drew no further sign from the goddess, but we were trembling with excitement at the prospect of being chosen by a divinity.
“Show us more, Layla,” Summer pleaded.
“No. There is no rush. One cannot demand signs from the Goddess. But we have the rest of your lives to learn more. I think we are done for the night,” Layla said. While such a declaration would usually leave us disappointed, we were tired, cold and still lightheaded from the feeding. Besides, tonight had been rich in thrills.
“Very well. But promise we shall meet again tomorrow night. You must tell us more about what it means to be a vampire and about Dahlk if we are to be faithful servants,” I said.
“I swear I shall be here until you come, and we shall see what the night holds for us. To our secret pact I pledge myself,” Layla swore.
“To our secret pact I pledge myself,” we repeated.
“Now, your marks,” Layla said.
“Oh, it seems a shame to remove them,” Summer said. “I have never felt the touch of a goddess before. It feels disrespectful.”
“The pact,” I simply pointed out.
“I know. The pact must be protected,” she confirmed sulkily. “And Mother would throw a fit.”
“Is there anything you can do, beloved?” I asked Layla.
“There are a number of things but the simplest would be to enchant the marks to fade with the first light of dawn,” Layla offered.
“Do that! Do that!” Summer excitedly yammered. “I mean… if you please, beloved.”
“Of course. Kneel,” Layla instructed, drawing wry smiles from us both. We had predicted we would be on our knees sooner or later.
“Yes, Layla,” we said and dropped to the ground. We looked up at her with the recognition that our beloved was now our priestess. She placed her hands on our foreheads. The warmth of them still took a little getting used to. I found I missed their usual coolness.
“Dahlk, let your grace enter your servants,” Layla intoned, followed by a brief arcane utterance and a strange moment of calm that might have lasted an instant or much longer, I could not tell. I felt a delightful dizziness and fantasised Layla’s whispers, lacing my mind with subtle instruction. With a firm push of her palm, we felt the chill of her magic upon our marks which exhilarated me at my core.
I loved Layla casting spells upon me, though it did not alter how I felt about her. After what she had said about the overwhelming power of her bite clouding the judgement of those she blessed, I resolved to never let it interfere with how much I cared for her. That said, I confess I wanted so badly to be bitten I had already begun planning how to persuade her to drink from us once more.
“It is your responsibility to Dahlk, and to our pact, to ensure no one sees you before dawn. Like my kind, Dahlk’s worshippers are persecuted by those jealous and ignorant of her grace. I trust you will comply?” Layla explained.
“We will comply, Layla,” we said in certainty. We rose to our feet, though the urge to remain kneeling was more powerful than ever.
“You are an endless source of wonders, Layla,” I said to our love as I kissed her goodnight.
“’Tis true,” Summer added. “And listen well: we will always trust you, so never fear your true nature does anything but bind us closer to you. We will always, always, always love you. You are a dream made flesh to us. And thank you for your blessing,” Summer gestured towards her neck as she spoke. She was right. Our wounds were a blessing bestowed by our priestess. “Take as much time as you need to believe that our devotion to you is our decision, our truth. When you are ready, we will set out on the grandest of adventures together.”
“Sum is right, we will find a way. Trust us. Our parents need never know about you at all if it is your will. I have already figured out how we will hide these from them,” I said, caressing my neck. I was a little surprised Layla had not mentioned concealing our injuries. They were a little obvious.
“Lovely and resourceful,” Layla said with all her freshly purloined warmth filling her voice. “My beloved twins, for so long my path was cursed. You have made me believe I am blessed once more. Thank you for your love, your kindness and especially your trust. I appreciate it more than you can possibly know.” She kissed us both on the lips then forehead, then turned and left.
“Blessings of Dahlk be upon you, beloved,” Summer called after her as she passed beyond the edge of the clearing and our sight.
“And upon you, servants of Dahlk,” she hollered back from the darkness. Servants of Dahlk. The appellation made me shudder in delight.
I looked to Summer, admiring the mark we bore. They looked even darker than before if it were possible, eating even the moonlight, dedicating us to a goddess we knew very little about. But our dreams had called to us, then Layla had shown us the way. That was enough to make us believers. Though neophytes we had faith that the mysteries of our goddess would be revealed in time. We hugged and felt like the luckiest sisters in the world. Our lover had shared her deepest secret and fulfilled our darkest fantasies, which proved to be more astounding than we could have imagined. Whenever I moved my neck, I was reminded of her.
As we set off home, it became clear how woozy we were. It put us in mind of walking back from the Fayre since we had been old enough to drink. We would often not realise how inebriated we were until we had left the festivities behind. Tonight, we swam in the afterglow of being preyed upon by a vampire, in no hurry for the feeling to abate.
We drifted like clumsy clouds back to our cabin in silence. The summer night’s faint chill wrapped around us, getting under our skin, but our shivers bothered us none. We quietly climbed in through our window and sat on the floor, smiling like fools, whispering the occasional half sentence to inadequately express snatches of what had transpired.
We spent a while tenderly examining each other’s wounds. To us they were stigmata, sanctifying us, connections to a much deeper world. With our washcloths we gingerly, reverently cleaned the dried blood, agreeing on my plan to cover them tomorrow with those silks we had bought last year. Summer kissed mine once, lightly, respectfully. The punctures were still sensitive, and I trembled at the memories of pain and ecstasy. I reciprocated with great care so she might share the sensation.
As twins we did not always think alike as much as we pretended, but in those early morning hours we were as one. Summer drew a blanket around us, and we held each other in the sacred darkness, tired but not wanting sleep. We imagined our new goddess wrapping us in a cloak of secrets and silence. Despite everything that happened subsequently, that is still one of my happiest memories.
Before the approach of dawn could pollute our room with an iota of sunlight, we slunk into our separate beds, lay down and stared at each other across the room, lightly caressing our wounds. They fascinated us, as did the decorative darkness written across our foreheads to initiate us into fledgling faith.
We struggled to stay awake, reluctant to let go of that precious moment, trusting Layla’s magic would make our marks vanish when next we opened our eyes. Then sleep overcame us in an instant.