After Hours (VAMPIRES PART 1)

Chapter 4

JENNIE

One Thousand Years Ago

Once upon a time, one thousand years ago, a fairytale was born. Two women, star-crossed lovers, destined to meet. Their fates woven through time and history.

And history is where this fairytale begins.

A chance meeting.

A fluke. A whim. A blessing.

Whatever the reason, one thing is certain, this story ends with fireworks...

___________________________________________________________

"Here, darling, hurry now. As safe as you can be on that ankle, okay? We must have you ready for the next marriage ball," Mama says, handing me a pouch of coins.

I huff at her, annoyed that I'm being made to attend another so soon, given the last one is the cause of my ankle issue.

"When is it?"

"Two nights from now."

"And if I refuse?" I say and pull my skirts up. My swollen ankle has developed a plum sheen. The bulge is spreading up my calf.

"Let's not start our day with an irksome attitude. You're prime age for a proposal, Jennie. We must ensure the right marriage for you and the family. It's a necessary business. We all have to do our part. We are the St Laures. You can't just marry anyone."

I grit my teeth. Neither interested in marriage nor doing my part particularly. Mama places a kiss on my forehead and heads back into the house.

"Where's Poppa's cane?" I shout after her.

Mrs Blakemore, our housekeeper, pops her head into the hallway, "In the pot there, miss, just move the dress coats."

I shove the coats out of the way and spot the mahogany-stained cane. I pull it out, instantly relieved to lean on it as I hobble out of the door and towards the carriage. The driver aids me as I stumble up the steps and collapse onto the seat.

Of course, even with the carriage dropping me in the centre of the village, it still takes me twice as long to reach the market area. I slip and fumble on the gravelly floor of the market. A kind gentleman assists me to the other side of the stalls. Finally, I reach the street with the healers. Mama would be annoyed with me if she knew I'd come to the healers rather than the doctors.

But I swear sometimes the doctors don't know what they're talking about. They swindle your money and give you liquids that smell suspiciously like watered down whiskey and fermented herbs. At least the healers mix the brews in front of you, and you know what's going into them.

I hobble past a couple of shops, one filled with stones and crystals, another selling elixirs. But neither are quite right. Then I see a little healer shop nestled in the heart of the row. The sign hanging above the door says 'Healing Hearts' and beneath it in tiny letters it says: in association with the Jacumes.

I hesitate before entering. Would Mother throw a fit at me for using a store owned by the Jacumes? She does so hate them. I decide that whatever healer is in there just works for them, they've probably never even met a Jacume. Besides, Mother would be more furious if I return home unhealed.

I step inside. Despite the four walls around me, the shop is light and breezy. Sun streams in through the glass-fronted window and fills the space with warmth. There's a fire burning. It sits in a metal stove in the hearth, the door ajar, spilling warmth into the shop. Crackles and embers drift up into the chimney like little dust motes.