CHAPTER ONE
𝑅𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑑 𝐴𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑠

"ᴄᴜʀsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ
ᴍᴇ sᴀᴅ ꜰᴏʀ sᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ."
𝑂𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 18𝑡ℎ 1658
☾

The moon settled sweetly in the sky, bathing the pool in a soft light. It was shallow, the green-cloaked water that bogged the ground by thickets of pine trees, concealing the pockets that were drowned burrows, dangerous as bear traps in the dark night. The doors to those intricate, underground systems had caught a number of unaware humans, leaving their legs trapped beneath water until found or passed away.

It was in that watery graveyard in the middle of the deep forest, that Simran chose to remain. The vampires had traced her for miles like the predators they were, and Simran could go no further. It would be a mere half hour until they finally were upon her, and she could run no more.

Rippling against her skin in waves made by wind, the water pooled around her waist. The black layers of worn material clung to her body, submerged in the mossy liquid. If she tuned her ears clearly enough, Simran could hear that rhythmic sound of the splashing pond, mirroring the feeling that rolled over her legs.

It felt so natural, to sink below the bog, hands clutching the bronze pendant that lifted from her breast, skin tingling with life. But nothing about the woman could be called natural. Not by the beasts that followed her, lusting over the violet blood that coursed through her veins. Not by the humans that warned her away with their false symbols and cruel prayers and towers of fire, as if her blood didn't sing at the very thought of such crimson flames.

In one sudden dash, the air stilled around her. It was silent then, the quietness fuelling the energy that filled her body, only furthering the innate power that festered there, waiting ever so desperately. Only the distant sound of crazed and taunting laughs penetrated the air. They were almost upon her, the red-eyed vampires that seemed as ancient as the trees that became motionless, awaiting their arrival, and the forest seemed to accept her protection, letting its potential flow through her in one voltaic shock.

Simran would not be able to stop so many of them. She could only hope to hold them long enough for her trail to be hidden, letting her disappear as she normally would have. It was clumsiness and arrogance that'd let the coven of vampires find her this time, a mistake she would not make again.

There was a rumble, the earth clawing to get a taste of the power that was surging around her in waves. Like the moon to the sea, waves of the marsh pond lapsed around her, only making the oncoming battle field more tumultuous. But as the vampires drew close enough to be caught in her sight, that power dipped, like a candle being whipped dim by the wind, as fear straightened her spine for the first time in many years.

There were far more than she expected. The vampires held skin of many shades, holding origins of far more countries that she had been, but they all held three things in common. The sickly, grey tone that washed over their faces like pallid watercolour paints; the burgundy eyes wild and penetrating, like a rabid animal; and the insatiable thirst that sent them crawling over one another, scratching to sink their teeth into such desirable flesh.

The fear left as quickly as it came, swiftly being dispelled by the determination that ran through her veins. First came the conjurations: great, prowling cats slinking to scratch at whatever skin they could, acting as no more than mild irritations, like a fly buzzing in the ear.

And then her hands were slipping down to dig into the earth, blackened nails coated with mud, surface reaching past her elbows. There was another groan of the earth as the water began to swell, waves pushing from her body, thrown away by an invisible force, and then a mere ten metres away, past the bulk of trees that connect to her, the very ground beneath the vampires' feet began to fall away. It crumbled and crashed, caving in, letting the predators fall like ants into one mass grave.

It wasn't perfectly planned. It didn't have to be. As the ground disappeared beneath them, one by one the blood-lusting vampires fell. There was a scream, and then a chorus of shouts followed, erupting into a roaring cacophony of sound. Such an angry, desperate noise, that Simran almost pulled back her power. But she held on, fingers digging into dense soil, letting the energy of the earth combine with her own as she dug their hole deeper until not a single red-eyed monster could be seen past the darkened horizon, clouds thundering and painted the colour of a bruise.

Simran closed her eyes and ripped her fingers upwards, letting the murky water splash as she moved to grip the pendant, the bronze almost burning her skin. Such lithe and swift creatures could not be held back for so long. For a second time the earth grumbled, and the roots of the trees that surrounded her began to extend, crawling over to tangle in thick patterns, creating a gate for the prison she'd created. It was more like hardened vines than roots, covering the grave in place of dirt, and the layer was so thick that not a single hand could reach out to wrap against their captors creations, ripping themselves free so rapidly.

She didn't wait to see how easily the vampires could escape. Soon she was running again, feet barely touching the water as she was propelled forward. Up ahead the sun was streaking through the trees, early for such a late month, but the warm wind was the last evidence of a quickly fleeting autumn and dawn was rising. It was like a game, seeing how quickly she would be able to outrun the vampires with her traps, how she would trick them and save herself. A laugh almost bubbles from her throat- a cruel sound.

Her diadem, embellished with the rubies her birth moon forged, lay easily against her head, entangled in thick, dark locks. Simran pulled it from her head and tucked it away amongst the material that swamped her.

The edge of town was in sight, lurking amongst the tall shadows made by trees, stretching for miles behind it, but as planned the small church stood like a soldier against the grey brick wall, the bell silent at its head. She should have reared back in fright, but the game was only beginning, and no doubt the vampires would be loose. She pushed hard, heart pounding in her chest. 

Feet carried her all the way to the door and her hands reached to bang against the old wood. The small vicarage lay just around the corner, but her shouts and knocks carried, the door swinging forward, letting her fall forward. She expected to hit the stone cold, dress protecting her from scrapes, but large arms caught her smoothly, struggling to keep her up.

"Vampires!" Simran called out before the vicar could say anything. "Please, father, please! Vampires!"

It was not the man who held her upright who responded. The vicar emerged from the darkness amongst the pews to bend down beside her, a hand blanketing her forehead. He was old, hair long enough to reach the bottom of his neck, the same colour as a silver moon, and the lines in his skin seemed deep enough to be ancient, buffered by sand. Simran glanced behind her, seeing a young man, hair pale and eyes a panicked blue, looking a younger version of the vicar in front with his slim nose and strong, lined jaw.

"Come, my dear, you'll be safe inside. No devil's monster can pass these boundaries," he said, voice worn and low, somehow just as she expected. She almost laughed again- had to fight to keep the sound down. "Carlisle, fetch a blanket, the poor girl is freezing."

The young boy hesitantly unwrapped his arms from beneath her shoulders and stumbled backwards, eyes flitting from his father to the girl again before he hurried to do the vicar's bidding. Simran kept herself still, swaying slightly to keep herself upright.

"I'm Reverend Enoch. Now, child," he said, though she was old enough to be called a woman, a no doubt older than the boy who'd caught her. "Tell me where these beasts found you."

"In the woods. There were many of them. All red eyes," Simran said, a shiver running down her back.

He stood at a length then, eyes watching her openly. "How did you outrun them?"

"I didn't. I was walking by the road, by the church. They mustn't have known it was here, they didn't follow me closer."

Simran felt the simmering of her magic and closed her eyes, held her breath. A blanket was draped over her back, a gentle hand placed onto her shoulder and then the boy- Carlisle- was guiding her forward, his delicate voice in her ear as the vicar mumbled something far-off about monsters and heathens and God's wrath.

"It's over, you're alright. You're safe here," the vicar's son whispered and Simran finally opened her eyes again, blinking to adjust against the newfound, greenish darkness, brown meeting blue, and bit her tongue. Oh if only the poor boy. Her game was only beginning. They wouldn't be safe for long.

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a short start but here we go!