Weekly Drabble #265: Not Like the Dead (Patreon)

This week's prompt is 'peaceful' from Knightress, so with it we return to our (currently) unnamed vampiress and vampire hunter duo. Enjoy!

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Not Like the Dead:

Vampires, it was said, slept like the dead. Not wholly true, but not wholly inaccurate, either. Their daylight slumber was deep and dark, more like that of a hibernating animal than the daily slumber of a human.

Laying next to her lover and listening to his breathing, the vampiress felt the tug of exhaustion pulling at her senses, but she couldn’t commit to the deep torpor she needed to heal from her own exertion and wounds. Not until she knew she would be waking up next to her brave but foolish hunter and not a still, silent corpse. She would never forgive herself if she let her own selfish need for rest rob him of her presence in his last moments.

On top of his injuries, he had picked up a fever, his brow burning and his body drenched in sweat. She tended to him, using damp cloths to help keep him cool. The doctor she’d summoned had bound his ribs and tended to his injuries as best he could, but the blood loss had taken its toll. The physician told her that if the fever broke tonight or tomorrow, his chances were good. If it didn’t...

“He’s very weak,” the older man had observed as he looked over her lover’s twitching form. “At this point, I’m afraid there’s little else to be done. He will have to get through this on his own and he will... or he won’t.” He’d said to summon him immediately if her lover’s condition changed, but there was nothing else he could do.

There’d been questions about what had happened; her own weakness had been noticed despite her clothing obscuring her wound. She told the doctor that they’d been out for a walk and a wolf had attacked them. He’d saved her, and she’d insisted that her injuries were only some bumps, bruises and exhaustion from dragging her gentleman companion to safety. The doctor had nodded along to that explanation. Whether he fully believed it or not, she didn’t know, but his medical oaths swore him to secrecy. Despite that, she knew there would be rumours buzzing around town about the Mourning Lady’s companion and whispers of what might have ‘really’ happened. She didn’t care. She supposed she should; secrecy was how she’d survived this long so close to humans, but she didn’t have the energy for it.

All her concern was on the man laying next to her. Her hunter, her silver wolf. On the cusp for death because he’d saved her, both from the Feral beast and from the sun, giving her his own blood. She’d given him nothing in return, only taken. It couldn’t end like this. Not because of her.

We don’t give. All we do is take.That mantra pounded in her head with every beat of her lover’s heart. She could save him. She could do it now. Open one of her veins and let him drink, and he would rise with the moon, a creature like her.

But that wasn’t saving. He would never thank her. They were lovers, yes. They cared for each other, yes. How much she hadn’t truly known until now, but he was still human and she a vampire. He didn’t want to be like her. He never would. He would embrace age, infirmity and death rather than become a child of the night. She’d known that from the start. No, he wouldn’t consider this salvation. It would destroy everything they had and he would never forgive her.

But at least he’d be alive to hate me...she thought, then corrected herself. No, not alive. He just wouldn’t be dead. She looked up at his face, wiping the sweat from his brow and soaked hairline. He barely reacted, his breath coming in rapid pants.

If he survives the night...what were the odds of that? She didn’t know. Even the doctor wasn’t sure, but she did know that if he got too much weaker, he wouldn’t be able to survive the change. If she were going to do it, it would have to be soon.

Her life had been long – too long, maybe – and she’d never faced a choice like this. She could trust her lover’s strength and will to live, putting his life in fate’s hands... but how often had such a thing ever turned out well for her? Her other option was to give him the same gift – the same curse – that had been bestowed upon her. No matter her choice, she would lose him. No matter her decision, the consequences would be the same. A lifeless life without love.

Then what matters is for him, isn’t it?He would never agree to be turned. Did she honour that choice and let a God who hated her decide his fate, or did she rescue him from death with damnation? She knew what she should do, what he would have wanted but as strong as that urge was, she couldn’t bear the thought of his death. Not like this. If he lived a hundred years or more, he still would have died far too soon but this... this was cruel mockery of the time they could have had.

Though he would despise her, she could take comfort knowing that he survived, but each time she made to open her own veins, she stopped herself. He wouldn’t want this, but she didn’t want this. One way or another though, she’d have stolen his life.

Wimpering in despair, she pulled herself closer to her lover, listening to the rasp of his lungs and the strained, desperate beating of his heart. “Tell me,” she begged. “I don’t know. I know I’ll lose you. I know you wouldn’t want this but.... I can’t let you die. Please. Tell me what to do. Please.”

No answer came, only the hot, rapid rasps of the young man’s breath.

Burrowing her face into his chest, she wept for the second time since she had become a vampire, praying to anyone and everyone that might hear her. As she lay there, the silence stretched, her lover’s time continued to fade and she still wasn’t sure what she should do. She could only hope she’d know before it was too late.