A Monster in Love by MayFreighter

November 7, 1904, Queens Wood, Haringey

Ethel peeled open her heavy lids in an unfamiliar room. The interior, from the large wooden beams supporting the roof above her head to the worn wood panelling on the walls, seemed odd for a property in London.

Furrowing her brow, she sat up and looked around. The room was cosy, but she did not remember coming here. The last thing she recalled was the asylum she was in and the handsome stranger who...

She stood upright at an unnatural speed. The stranger from Mr Courtenay's manor bit her. He drank her blood and fed her his. She grimaced. What kind of monster forced his blood down the throat of other people? She remembered spitting the blood out multiple times, but he wouldn't relent. Who was he? And, more importantly, where was she?

The door to the room opened, and she scrambled backwards until her backside hit the wall.

"You—" she began, trying to formulate a sentence that would not leave her lips out of paralysing fright her body suffered.

The handsome stranger inclined his head in greeting and closed the door behind him, locking it in place. "Don't be scared of me. I am your creator, Arthur Blake."

"Creator?" She frowned, unable to distance herself from this man any further than the wall would permit her.

"Yes. You are like me now, a vampire."

A nervous giggle escaped her. "A vampire? You mean a creature in Bram Stoker's novel?"

He tilted his head to one side, assessing her. "I'm sorry, what?"

Ethel found it odd that although she was embarrassed by her statement, she wasn't blushing. She placed her hand over her heart, and her frown deepened. There was no heart beating in her chest. Was she truly a blood-drinking creature? Would she hiss at the sight of a cross and burn in the rays of the sun? Or would people chase her to the end of time with sharpened stakes in their hands before hammering them into her chest? "I can't be..."

Arthur glided towards her, his arms outstretched to show he was harmless. Yet, being locked in a room with a man was not something she believed was considered good manners. What if he brought her to a brothel? Would she become a whore? Certainly, the thought of him being a patient from Bedlem did not escape her either. The talk of vampires had to be a jest. But, she had no home to return to. Although, it did not mean she would willingly throw her body at the first man who comes into her chamber. In this case, it was a strikingly good-looking man in his late twenties or early thirties with grey eyes that matched the shade of stormy clouds.

His irises lit with a faint glow. Is it a play of light?

"Ethel, come and sit. I have much to tell you about your new life," he said, taking a seat on the bed.

She nibbled on her lip as she contemplated whether she should run for the door. It would be foolish, indeed. He was closer to it, and she would be caught before she would get the chance to turn the brass key. With her mind made up, she gingerly took a seat a safe distance away from him, her eyes never leaving him.

He chuckled and cleared his throat. "There are a few rules you must abide by for the next year or two, Ethel."

"What kind of rules?"

"You cannot leave this cottage. You may not see any humans until you have overcome your thirst, and you cannot leave my sight until I am satisfied with your transition. On a positive side of things, from now on you will not age and will not need to eat solid food to survive. Most importantly, you may not go outside in the sun or you will faint and not awaken for hours."

At least, I am not going to burn like the creatures in the stories, she thought and arched a brow. "Wait. Am I going to be here for years? What will I do? And why can I not see other people?"

His expression hardened as he looked out the window at the almost naked trees. "It is for their safety." He stood and offered her his hand. "Come. You will know what I mean in a little while."

Taking his hand, she followed him downstairs into a kitchen where he had a cup nestled on a carved oak table. He offered her the drink.

Once she laid eyes on it, she cringed. It was blood—there was no doubt about it. But, as the smell of it reached her, her body reacted of its own volition. She gulped down the contents, making some of the blood trickle down her chin and drip onto her dress. The taste was incomparable—sweet and rich as if she was drinking ambrosia of the gods. She could identify every undertone in the forbidden mixture on her tongue.

Licking her lips, she felt guilt gnawing at her as he handed him the cup and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "I truly am a monster..."

He cupped her cheek, smiling. "A beautiful one."

*****

December 24, 1904, Queens Wood, Haringey

Over a month had passed since the terrible incident at the asylum. The orderlies and Dr Wallace were killed right in front of her, yet Ethel felt no pity for them. They were willing to make her into a living corpse. And, what was she now? She thirsted for blood and drank it when Arthur brought it for her. Why did he choose me?

Sitting on a bed with the view of the forest, she studied the white blanket that had covered the ground last night. Arthur would not let her out of this cottage. She was nothing more than his captive, but he would not admit it. His contained smiles and stiff posture when she asked of her family kept her wanting to get out—to get away from him and the dark path he had put her on.

A knock on the door brought her out of her reverie. "Come in."

Arthur entered the room with a white porcelain cup in hand. His tall frame, long raven hair, piercing grey eyes, and good looks would have landed him in the Kind Edward's court with ease. The great pride and confidence her sire carried himself with displayed long years of manners being drilled into him. He was no pauper. There was certainly nobility in his bloodline as he was nothing like her—a servant's offspring.

The scent of blood perfumed the room the moment he stepped over the threshold. Three days on the dot, he readily fed her with the food fit for the demon spawn in Hell.

"Is it another animal, Arthur?" she asked, sensing the thirst at the back of her throat grating on her mind.

The hesitation prior to his answer was a tell she had come to recognise as a lie.

"Yes," he said, stopping in front of her.

"How many must die for me to exist?" Much like she had done three days ago, she knocked the cup out of his hand, spilling the scarlet contents onto the floorboards. "I will not drink blood anymore. I thought I have made it clear."

"You are being foolish." He caught her defiant chin, lifting her face. "The thirst will drive you mad. And when you get out of here, you will kill. Wouldn't you rather get used to the taste?"

She tore her face out of his hold and jumped up. Her balled hands trembled at her sides, and she saw red. "I cannot drink the blood of the living. It is not right. God would not have wanted this of us."

"God is nowhere to be found," he snapped, taking a step back.

"Our existence is unnatural. Do you not see that?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What I see is a woman who clings to her humanity and does not heed my advice. I brought you to this forest to help you tame your hunger. Until you are capable of looking out for yourself, I cannot abandon you or the Council will have my head."

"And they would be right to punish you. I did not choose to become a monster. I did not choose the life you have granted me after my death." She poked her finger at his solid chest. "What of my siblings? Why couldn't you save them instead?"

"They were a lost cause. You know it yourself!"

She was ready to slap him across the cheek, but he caught her swinging hand by the wrist.

"Ethel, enough."

Her body turned rigid at the power resonating in that single word. The control he held over her was terrifying, and she could not fight it.

His anger simmered down as his expression softened. Caressing her cheek, he pushed her to sit back down on the bed. "I will bring you another cup. This one you must drink. Do you understand me?"

She sighed, staring at the blood she had already spilt. "Please, leave me alone."

Whatever reaction he had to her words, she did not see. He strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Blowing out a breath, she made her way to the window. A chilly breeze seeped in through the single windowpane, but it was not unpleasant as she had once thought it to be. Her family spent months on the streets of London, moving from one place to another without hope for a better life. She snorted. What hope could there be for disgraced servants? No household would willingly take in those branded as thieves. No matter the curses the world hurled their way, Ethel and her mother had remained strong. They had to be, for the children. But, like Ethel's mother, Mary and Joshua were no longer among the living. They were killed by the same kind of demon she had become.

Why can't Arthur understand my revulsion?

*****

When she spied him leaving the cottage, she lunged for the door. Testing it, she knew he had once more locked it and propped the handle up with the chair on the other end. She yanked at the door, hearing the wood creak under her new strength, but it did not relent. Her options were limited. She did not know how the outside world would react to her, nor did she wish to harm others as Arthur threatened she would.

She used the bedsheets, wrapping them snugly around her arm, and punched a hole in the window. The glass shattered and crashed to the ground. Careful not to step on it, she draped the bedsheets over the remaining glass and poked her head out of the broken pane. Arthur was nowhere in sight. This was her chance.

Although she was on the second floor of the cottage, the height did not shrink her desire to escape. If she reached the New Scotland Yard, the officers would help her. There remained a chance they could transport her to a hospital where the doctors had a cure for her affliction. If not, the only course of action she felt would be gratifying was peaceful death to release her from this never ending nightmare.

She climbed out the window and, sucking in a steadying breath, jumped down. The skirt of her dress fluttered around her as she landed on her feet. Her knees and ankles ached upon impact, but she did not feel any bones breaking. If she were still human, she was certain, at least one of her limbs would be swelling by now.

With one final parting glance over her shoulder at the dark cottage bathed in moonlight, she ran in the opposite direction she saw Arthur take.

*****

Ethel's body hurt all over. Her legs no longer complied with her need to get further away from her creator. Close to dawn, she was stranded with no shelter and no food. She sat down at the foot of an ancient bare oak and rested her back against it. Massaging her legs, she looked up at the sky as it sluggishly changed colours from purple to red and orange. Then, as the sun peeked over the horizon, bathing her in the light of a new day, her consciousness slipped away.

*****

December 25, 1904, outskirts of Haringey

Ethel opened her eyes in an unfamiliar room. She shot up, searching for Arthur, but he wasn't there. The room was small with only a cot she lay on and some sacks full of potatoes and flour. As she stood, her ears picked up a sound of heartbeats nearby. Her mouth watered, and she grabbed the windowsill for support when her mind screamed at her to find the source of the beating hearts. Shaking her head, she caught sight of her eyes reflected in the windowpane. They were glowing with blue light that continued to intensify.

The door to the storage room opened and a young man standing there gaped at her.

She could not control her actions. She jumped on him, sinking her pointed canines into his jugular before he had a chance to fathom what was happening. Metallic blood flowed freely down her throat, and she greedily swallowed each mouthful. With the boy's blood in her system, the incessant need to quench her thirst did not subside. She stalked towards the large room where people sang Christmas carols together to the upbeat tune of the piano.

Upon entering the living room, a tear escaped Ethel's left eye. They were a happy family of four. The two pale-faced children next to the Christmas tree screamed. Their mother covered their eyes and gaped at the sight of Ethel's bloodstained clothing and face.

The father erupted from behind the piano and rushed for the iron poker next to the burning fireplace.

Ethel reacted on instinct. She was faster than him, and grabbed the poker first, piercing his chest with it.

A pained cry burst from the man. As his blood spread on his vest and shirt, captivating Ethel, he slowly slid to his knees. Seconds ticked by, and the mother and her children fled for the door, but Ethel was too entranced by the blood to stop them.

She knelt by the dying man's side and dipped her fingers in the blood on his chest. Tasting the crimson liquid on her fingertips, she closed her eyes to enjoy the coppery sweetness. The thirst took over, and she bent over him, sinking her teeth into his neck to get better access to the vein.

By the time she realised what she had done, Arthur marched into the room with a scowl etched on his face. He assessed the room and the weeping Ethel by the fireplace.

"What have you done?" he demanded, and she winced at the sharpness in his tone.

"Kill me, Arthur. Please..." she mumbled, hiding her face behind the veil of her fingers. Nothing would wipe away the sins she had committed tonight. It was her fault for not listening to the man who radiated outrage a few feet away from her.

He took hold of her hand and yanked her into a standing position. "We are going home."

"Why? Why can't you let me be?" she snapped, trying to tear her hand out of his iron grasp. "What am I? A monster? A demon? Why did animal blood taste no different to that of these people, unless..." Her eyes widened as her fears were confirmed. "I was drinking human blood all along!"

"Let us discuss this elsewhere. We must leave before the constables arrive," he retorted, gathering her in his arms. He lifted her up, throwing her over his shoulder, and sped out of the house faster than any mortal man.

*****

December 25, 1904, Queens Wood

Ethel battered her small fists against Arthur's chest, and her eyes blurred with tears. "You made me drink blood from people! All along, you lied to me!"

"I did what I had to. You would not take blood otherwise," he replied, catching her by the waist and pulling her against him. "Trust me when I say this, I have not killed anyone to feed you. They were willing donors."

Her body trembled with a jumble of emotions. If she had stayed in the cottage, she would not have killed those two men. She would not have ruined a family in a similar fashion as Mr Courtenay and his dinner party's guests had killed hers. She could not blame Arthur for her wrongdoings, no matter how much she wanted to do so.

"Listen to me well, Ethel. If you wish to remain by my side, you must heed my counsel. I cannot keep watch on you day and night, just as you cannot control the thirst yet."

"And what will happen when I can? I will be wanted for murder!" She pointed in the direction she thought was towards the city. "Posters of my face will be plastered on every brick wall in London."

"Then we will travel elsewhere. We can move to Paris, Berlin, Venice, anywhere you like."

She studied his stern grey eyes and sagged against his chest. "Why did you turn me?"

He combed his fingers through her tangled hair then planted a kiss on her forehead. "Because I saw fire in you. You did not cry or beg those vultures at William's party to stop. You cared more about your family than your own well-being. To me, such courage and selflessness are important. I wished to see more of you, but I knew you would not stay by my side." He lifted her chin and gazed into her shimmering eyes that reflected the lamplight in the room. "I gave you a chance to run from me, Ethel. And I had tried to stay away. But when you wished to be saved from Bedlem, I have discarded my final reservations and turned you."

"Then it is my fault again..."

"It is no one's fault. You are my companion in this new life, though I would prefer it if you conceded to be more."

She slipped out of his arms and cast her gaze downwards. "Why would someone like you wish to be with me instead of all the other beautiful women in the world?"

"Because in this life, what matters most is the people you are willing to live for. Dying is simple—a momentary process that can be achieved with ease—but living is difficult. To me, your beauty lies in your willingness to pursue life where a quick death would release you from your internal suffering."

She cupped his cheek and left a tender kiss on his lips. He was a strange man with a complicated mind and a caring heart. She had not once considered the loneliness he must undergo each day, living in this forest with her. If she could let go of her sorrow and pain, would she also be able to open up to him? She wanted to try.

"I want us to be more," she whispered against his lips.

He leant back, observing her face as if seeking something. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes. I have no one left to live for. For you, I am willing to try."

His wide smile warmed her unbeating heart as he gathered her into his arms and claimed her mouth. She was surprised at the passion with which he kissed her. His strong arms that were once a sign of her restriction became a welcoming embrace. There was no more distance between them. Each masterful movement of his tongue ignited a fire deep within her soul that she had never felt for anyone. And, as he brought her back to his room, she let go of her apprehension, allowing him to take the lead. After all, he was her monster, and she was willing to accept him for everything he was that night.

*****

December 26, 1904, Queens Wood

The next day, she woke up under his sheets with Arthur missing from her side. Wrapping the material around her, she shuffled into the hallway until she spied light coming from his office at the back of the cottage. She opened the door, finding him by the fireplace with a stern look on his face as he read the contents of a letter. Edging closer, she noticed a wax seal on the envelope—a cloaked figure holding a sword downwards.

"What is the matter, Arthur?" she asked.

He crumpled up the letter and threw it into the fireplace. It was quickly swallowed up by the surrounding flames. "We must leave England sooner than I had hoped."

"Why? What happened?"

He rounded the desk and hugged her close to him. "The Council forbids turning more than one person every one hundred years. I have broken that law with you."

"You have created vampires before?"

"That is beside the point, Ethel. We must leave now or their hounds will kill us."

She clutched the back of his vest for support as her legs grew weak. "Where will we go?"

"To Africa? Asia? Somewhere Eliza and her Council cannot reach us." He kissed the top of her head. "Let us go to a place I can hold you in my arms forever."