Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

The Woman in the Carriage: Part Two

The man turned to the carriage. "It's alright, my love, I'm here." His voice was softer when he spoke to the wife that Ludovic couldn't see.

Another moan, and then a snarl – a ragged noise that raised the hair on the back of Ludovic's neck. That didn't even sound human.

"What was that?" Benoit asked, shrinking back.

"Jehanne?" the man said, presumably still speaking to his wife.

For the first time since they'd stopped his carriage, Ludovic heard fear in his voice. But that didn't make sense – why would this man be afraid of his wife?

Something stirred inside the carriage, two shining pinpricks of red moving in the darkness, then with a broken shriek, a shape leaped out.

A woman in a long satin gown crashed into her husband, knocking him to the ground with such force that Ludovic was sure he heard something snap.

"Jehanne, no," he cried, but she snapped at him with teeth that suddenly seemed too long. He shoved his forearm against her throat, forcing her head up, keeping those snapping teeth away from him. He was twice her size – holding her off should have been easy, but he was grunting with the effort.

Finally she tore away from him, and rounded on the men who'd thought to rob her.

Gustave's jaw was tightly clenched, but he didn't back down as Jehanne advanced on him, softly snarling.

"What are you?" he asked.

She cocked her head to one side, as if she was considering his question, then she snarled again and charged.

Gustave shot her.

She reeled from the force of the shot, blood blossoming in a red flower across her torso, and Ludovic waited for her to fall, waited for the world to go back to being the one that he knew, and not this place of monsters and nightmares.

Jehanne didn't fall.

Her lips peeled back from her teeth, and they weren't teeth, they were fangs, and her eyes were burning red, like hot coals. Blood drenched her dress, and Ludovic's instincts screamed at him to run but he couldn't seem to move.

Neither, it seemed, could Gustave.

He gaped at Jehanne when she didn't fall, then looked down at his flintlock. That hesitation proved fatal.

Like a wild animal, Jehanne leaped at him. He went down with Jehanne clinging to his shoulders, and his prized pistol flew out of his hand. He had time for a single scream before the woman buried those awful teeth in his throat and tore, blood and thicker things spraying everywhere.

Her husband lunged, grabbing her shoulders and trying to haul her back, and she twisted, sinking her teeth into his wrist and worrying him like a dog with a rat.

Frantically swearing, Paul darted around Gustave's body, his throat a raw ruin, glistening in the moonlight, and scooped up the pistol.

Just as fast, Jehanne let her husband go, and rounded on Paul.

Ludovic didn't know if Paul actually knew how to use the flintlock, and in the end it didn't matter. In the blink of an eye, Jehanne's hands were on his neck, forcing his head back so she could savage his throat, like she'd done to Gustave. He tried to pull away, and she bit his face, tearing off a long strip of flesh. He screamed.

Finally Ludovic could move again. He lunged forward, Alain moving with him, but Jehanne's husband got there first. He pushed Ludovic out of the way, hard enough to send Ludovic slamming into the side of the carriage. His head struck hard wood, and everything went hazy.