Page 17 of Of Shadows and Blood

My feet pad back into the sitting room, hoping to find something else to curb my appetite in any of these baskets or trunks. The first trunk I pull is filled with shoes of all kinds. Some tall, some flat and some are riding boots. But they are all very, very beautiful. Handcrafted, I imagine. I move on to the other basket from the castle and find more apples, bread and wrapped cheese. My stomach flips just looking at it.

The largest chest sits near the door, most likely the heaviest if Lee didn’t bother to carry it in all the way. I scoot over to it and find it chilled, as if spelled to be cool like a winter morning. I snort to myself because apparently magic is a thing here in Lux, so it might very well be.

My fingers fiddle with the latches, eventually finding the narrow clasps. The lid flips open and the inside of the trunk emanates that same coolness as was felt on its exterior.

Bottles. Jars. Flasks.

All filled with some dark liquid. Spirit or wine perhaps. I’ve gotten used to tossing Trentin’s poorly discarded trash after visits to the village tavern.

I pick up the tall, narrow bottle in the middle, needing both hands to pry it from the tightness they were all packed in. I move to hold it to eye level but with the slight frost that quickly melted under my touch, the bottle slips to the ground, shattering and splashing all over me, the trunk and the floor.

A crimson wave settles and soaks into everything in the near vicinity. It even made its way up the wall and under the crack of the front door. My nostrils immediately pick up on the lack of alcohol and fermented grapes in the air. Rather, it smells of iron.

This is neither wine nor ale.

“What…” I toe the substance and leave a thick smear across the parquet floor.

I trip backwards onto the rug and shriek. My elbow catches on a side table and I knock over a vase.

My screams of horror are no doubt heard all the way to the castle. Frantically, I try to find something to throw on the congealing puddle but nothing looks cheap enough to waste. My hands quickly pull my robe off and toss it onto the mess. The thing soaks and turns a deep red before my eyes.

I’ve never seen so much of it and I shake trying to wipe it up. It feels wrong.

Gods, who was this? Or what did this belong too? Pig or animal blood, surely. This can’t be human.

But something tells me otherwise.

Using the sleeve of the robe, I begin wiping the trunks and wall. Everything in me stills and focuses when I notice a slow drip of blood sliding down the side of the chilled chest. The red of it isn’t bright or transparent. It’s opaque and deep like a ruby. Thicker than water and the smell is… decadent and rich. Could this be the very thing coursing through my veins? Perhaps I never considered how beautiful blood actually is.

An essence of life.

From the roof of my mouth, an ache eddies and travels into my nose. My stomach responds, eager for something to fill its hollowness.

A deep hunger.

But blood?

The fact that it takes every will in my being to force myself to look away and cover my nostrils is chilling. A wave of déjà vu rolls over me because I’ve been here before. In a dream not so long ago. Desperately, I manage to run into the bedroom, the fresh air wafting from a few of the cracked windows. Anything to resist the pull towards carnal urges.

Though the breeze is pleasant, everything feels tight. This cottage is so small, so condensed. Why are the walls so low? My head hurts and I feel my chest caving in because I am stuck here. Here is not home. Here is scary. Here is foreign. This body that is not my body but also is. These people who feel familiar but are not. There is so much wrong going on and answers are elusive.

Why can’t I eat?

I have to get out of here.

The cottage.

The castle.

Wherever Lux is.

The armoire is packed with more clothing items than necessary, so I grab a pair of slippers and another robe. Just as my hand goes to unspell the lock, the door shakes as if someone is on the other side trying to get in. I jump, my eyes immediately landing on the mess in front of me. I push the discarded robe around, trying to clean the blood up and off to the side. It’s barely done anything to conceal the mess, but it is an effort.

The door rattles again followed by three soft knocks. Looking down at myself, I realize the shirt I grabbed is partially sheer across the bodice. Don’t these people wear actual clothes?

My hand zaps and I open the door slowly, twisting the knob gently to get a peek of who is at the door.

“Care to let me in?”