I walked through a garden of white roses at night, beneath a silver moon that illumined the roses in a pale glow like a vampire’s skin. The garden was a labyrinth where all paths led to the middle. At the heart of the labyrinth was a woman sitting on a silver throne. She had hair the color of night and eyes as black and deep as a million midnights. I had met her before—she was known variously as Lily, the Queen of Night and the Dark Mother of Dreams. And I learned a new name tonight. A man dressed in a black suit and a scarlet tie was speaking to her. It was the same man I had met at the pub, the one who had given me the box containing a glass syringe and bottle of hypnosium. Pitt.
“At your will, Morrigan,” Pitt said, bowing deeply to his Queen. He tipped his black fedora to me. “Jack.” Then he strode purposely down one of the paths of the garden and vanished from sight. I was alone with the Queen of Night.
“Well, Jack,” she said. “Once more, you enter my realm. I begin to think you may be a child of night yourself.”
“I understand I am bound to Fríg for seven years.”
“I have saved you more than once now. But you owe me no debt. You are welcome in my realm anytime and are equally welcome to leave. Go and finish your servitude to my sister then. A man cannot have two Queens. But should you wish to become a Jack of Spades, the Night holds many pleasures the Day cannot offer. Think on it.”
And then I awoke. The birds were chirping the coming of dawn. Harriet had fled. Of the ghoulish wound on my leg, there was no sign. I slowly opened my blinds, then just as quickly closed them again. The sunlight burned like scalding hot water on my flesh. I looked at my hand, which appeared even paler than usual. My god, was I turning into a vampire?
No, I wasn’t a vampire. Not yet. From the way I had observed Harriet behave, I gathered that sunlight killed vampires, not merely hurt them. I remembered drinking Harriet’s blood to heal the wound from the ghoul’s bite. That must explain my sensitivity to the sun. I knew she wouldn’t turn me into a vampire without my consent. Even with the curtains drawn, the light of day filtering into the bedroom was unpleasant. Hopefully this condition would pass. In the meantime, it didn’t seem like I’d be able to function during the day. So I pulled the covers over my head and allowed my body to do what it longed to: sleep.
I was dragged from my deep and dreamless slumber by a persistent prodding.
“Are you still sleeping, Jack?” Gretchen said. “For fuck’s sake, it’s six o’clock.” She whipped the blanket off me.
My eyes fluttered open. A thin trickle of daylight penetrated the blinds. This time I was able to stand it without pain. Either it was late and the sunlight wasn’t direct enough to affect me, or my vampiric condition had passed. Or maybe some of both.
“I’ve had a rough night. How did your test go?”
“I aced it of course. But never mind that. I went to visit the Reverend. He knows what we’re up against.”
“Ghouls,” I finished for her.
“You sure know how to steal a girl’s thunder.”
“I had a run-in with them last night. Almost got killed.”
“Hey, what’s that on your neck?”
I put my hand over my neck. Of course. The bite marks.
“It was her, wasn’t it? You’ve been seeing her again.”
She started backing away from me.
“Gretchen, wait. It’s not like that.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can handle this.”
Gretchen walked out my bedroom. Think fast, Jack. I put my pants on in record time and dashed after her before she reached the front door.
“I just need some time alone,” she said, as I put my hand on her arm.
“It’s not like that, Gretchen,” I said. “The ghouls were about to kill me. One of them had already bitten me. Harriet rescued me. And she had to bite me to heal me. Something about drinking her blood healed the infection or whatever it was. If it weren’t for her, I’d be dead now. Or...worse.”
Gretchen paused. “You promise there’s nothing between you and her?”
“I promise.” As soon as I’d said it, I knew it was a half-truth. Half would have to do for now.
A trace of a smile flickered across her face. “Well, I wouldn’t want you dead, I suppose.”
“I should hope not.” A hint of my grandmother’s Cornish burr peeked through. I knew Gretchen liked that. I played it up a little. “Why don’t I make us some tea and you can tell me what the Reverend said.”
“He did more than say. He gave me a book.”
Gretchen opened up her backpack and extracted a weighty tome that looked as if it might have once belonged to King Solomon’s library. She put it in my hands. I lifted the cover and recoiled with horror at the gruesome illustration on the frontispiece. It was a hideous creature devouring a corpse from an open coffin. Uncannily, the creature in the illustration stared at me from the page, its eyes looking directly into mine. I didn’t need a book to tell me what the creature was. I sank into the nearest chair. All thoughts of making tea had vanished like the light trace of sunlight beneath the horizon.
Ye CULTE OF GHULES
A Historie of Ynutterable Abomynation
Render’d into English
by Frauncis Pickman
London
A.D. 1603
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