Bound In Blood (Bound In Blood - Book One)

Chapter Twenty

Scarlet's home was something to marvel at. Tucked away in the woods outside Glaravale was her grand stone mansion. Inside, we were immersed in darkness, the only light coming from the odd candle melting away in its holder. It was easier on my eyes to be surrounded in the dim lighting.

She led me to her sitting room where a grand fireplace was burning away. The heat radiating from the flames was uncomfortable against my skin and the light was near blinding. She walked over and picked up a ceramic jug sitting on the mantle and poured it over the burning logs, extinguishing the flames. I was grateful for the gesture, to say the least.

Turning back to me, she gestured to a sofa behind me. I nodded and took a seat, feeling the plush red fabric beneath my icy cold hands. No longer did I produce so much heat as I was used to. I was as cold as stone.

Scarlet then sat across from me on her own sofa, crossing her legs beneath her ebony dress. Small red garnets on her shoes glinted in the low lighting. She appeared regal as she stared at me, a deliberating look on her face.

"Still, I cannot believe what has happened to you, young one. Never had I imagined that you could have possibly been turned," she told me.

"Nor had I," I agreed.

"Yet here you are. A lost fledgling with no family. No master to follow and serve." It was hard hearing all this from her. Somehow, I was still in denial about everything that had happened, fully convinced that this was some stupid dream I would soon wake from but that was far from the truth. "My dear, what is your name?"

"Conner. Conner Franklin."

"Well Conner, you look awfully thirsty," she pointed out. She was right; my mouth felt dry and my throat was tight, desperate for a meal. I didn't want to admit that to her, though.

"I have just... eaten," I told her.

"Don't try to hide it. Like I told you, I can see it in your eyes. Stay here, I'll fetch something for you."

I obliged to her and stayed in place, awaiting her return. While she was gone, I examined the interior of the room, admiring a single painting hanging above the fire, displaying a beautiful woman with skin pale as ours. Her hair was black as pitch, shining in the soft blue lighting. Her eyes were a golden brown, similar to Scarlet's, but her face had subtle differences. This woman's nose had deeper curve on the bridge and her lips were not quite so full as Scarlet's. She wore a black and red corset, tied tightly around her waist that made breathing look to be difficult, though I suppose it didn't matter much to her. Our lungs no longer required air after death. I didn't ponder the woman much longer and glanced around the rest of the room.

Above my head hung a golden chandelier with ruby inserts but the candles were not lit. They were cold as the rest of the room. To the left of the lounge were thick, floor length drapes, black in colour. Any light outside would surely not pass through, allowing the manor to remain in darkness.

Small sculptures and various potted plants sat about the place, placed in corners and on small tables for decoration. The little statues gave the manor an almost ancient feel, like it had been here for centuries. Admiring the decor, it seemed this may have been true. I did not know of Scarlet's age or how many nightwalkers had passed through this house but I could assume it had been standing for many generations before I. It was a strange thought.

Scarlet soon returned with an opaque metal flask in her hand, a strip of leather wrapped around the centre. I could smell its contents from where I was sitting. She handed it to me and I could hardly resist. I couldn't get the damned cap off fast enough. Pressing the rim to my lips, I tilted the canister upwards, allowing that sweet liquid to flow into my mouth. I couldn't ignore the fact that I knew it should have tasted awful and coppery but it was sweeter than the finest honey and warmed my belly better than mead ever could. It was intoxicating.