Quailhogs

As she approached the edge of the woods near town, Theresa noticed a woman cowering in the thicket of buckthorns next to a small cottage.  She could not determine if the woman was hiding or having a medical crisis.  Against her better judgement, Theresa dismounted at a seemingly safe distance from the woman and hitched her horse to a nearby rotting fence post.  Theresa put her hand in her coat and felt the grip of her small pistol before calling out to the woman, “Miss?  Is everything alright?”

The woman kept her head down, “Stay away from me!  Please…”

Theresa slowly walked closer, still maintaining what she believed to be a reasonable distance, “Are you hurt?  I can help you!”

The woman abruptly glanced up at Theresa. 

Her eyes glowed a terrible amber color, as if they were portals directly into hell.  Tears of dried blood stained the woman’s pale cheeks.  Theresa’s heart pounded as she drew her pistol.  The woman abruptly leapt from the brush before Theresa clumsily missed her shot.  She launched several feet through the air before latching herself onto Theresa’s shoulders, causing her to drop her pistol on the ground. 

“I told you to stay away!” the woman shouted.  Theresa struggled trying to fend off the woman from biting her neck.  The woman sank her fangs into Theresa’s neck but struggled to fully puncture her artery, as if it were steel wire.  Theresa, fighting through the pain, fished her inner coat pocket for her other weapon, the children’s toy wand. Upon feeling the hilt, Theresa drew the wand and plunged it into the woman’s chest.

The woman’s eyes dilated.  She released Theresa from her grasp and fell backwards into the dirt.  Theresa caught her breath, her head pounding in fury. She wanted to stomp the woman’s skull in, but she resisted her barbaric urge.

Theresa felt the bite mark on her neck. As usual, she survived from that foul-tasting elixir that she consumed. She peered down at the woman who weakly stared back at her.  “Theresa?” the woman rasped, as if regaining some sense of humanity.  Theresa now vaguely recognized the dying woman as the wife of Leon Stefanski, a former client of Gregor’s.

“Lenora?” Theresa asked mournfully.  “I couldn’t help_” Lenora drifted off. 

Gregor introduced Theresa to Lenora about a year ago.  Lenora had been a typical middle-class woman of Amberwood.  She was tad obsessed with fashion trends and slightly critical of Theresa’s use of cosmetics, but Lenora was otherwise an affable yet lonesome person.  Prior to meeting Theresa, Lenora had intended on starting a family with Leon. He inexplicably disappeared around the same time that Theresa was shot in the back. 

Theresa began to feel remorse as she watched Lenora fade. “I’m so sorry!” she began to sob, as her hatred turned into sorrow.

The remainder of Theresa's ride home was bleak.

Manor Valdemar, Fortress Rock, New Hampshire

Gregor caught a brief glimpse of Theresa after she entered the house through the front door, “Theresa, you are home late.  Did everything go well with your brother?” he questioned, before noticing the large spatter of blood on the front of her coat and blouse.  Without uttering a word, she rushed past him up the stairs into the master bedroom. 

He followed Theresa into the bedroom, gasping to find her retching on the floor like a stressed cat, “I’m sorry, Gregor.  I will clean it up,” she apologized with her back turned to him.  Normally she would have at least made it to the powder room.

“What did he do to you?”  “N-nothing…  It’s not my blood, Gregor,” she replied before finally turning around to reveal her black eye makeup trickling down her face from crying.  With her limited knowledge of fashion, Theresa had been convinced by Morgana that thick eye makeup was considered elegant, while most people of that time viewed it as the exact opposite. “Oh my,” he replied before taking out a handkerchief in attempt to clean her face. 

“Stop it, Gregor!  I am not a child!” she scolded him, jerking her head back from his reach.  “Would you please tell me what happened, Theresa?” he asked while attempting to maintain a calm and neutral tone, as he was often the more hysterical of the two.  Theresa removed the bloody wand from her coat and tossed it onto the floor at Gregor’s feet.  “What is this?” he asked after picking the wand up with his handkerchief.  It had a sinister aura. “It was the only thing my father left me.  I just killed a woman with it…”

Gregor grew faint, “What?” he questioned with a dry throat, hoping for a rational explanation.  “One of those… vampire people attacked me on my way home and I stabbed her.”  Gregor noticed a puncture wound under Theresa's high collar. “You were bit!” he yelped, before aggressively reaching towards her neck only to have his hand swatted away. “What is with you people?  Trying to tear my blouse open?” she shouted before looking up at his somber face. She knew that was not his intent. “I’m sorry… Morgana used to be a bit tactile with me,” she apologized, attempting to wipe the eyeliner from her face but only spreading it more. “I think the vampire was trying to feed, not turn.  I’m not really sure how they differentiate.”

He set the bloody wand down on the vanity and sat down on the bed, struggling to become calm again “Do you feel any different?  Light sensitivity?  Blurred vision?  You don’t seem to be crying blood at least.”  “I’m healthy, Gregor!" Theresa assured him.

“So… what happened to the body when she died?  Did she explode?”  “Do not be vile!  She was not a whale.  I hid her under some Rhamnus alnifolia.”  Theresa responded, only to receive a shrug from Gregor.  Theresa sat down on the bed next to him, “Alder-leaved buckthorn… a shrub…”  she explained further, trying to hold back another torrent of tears.  She was not accustomed to this level of emotion.  “Ah yes, that’s used as laxative,” Gregor responded, looking up at Theresa’s eyes, now finding that the oozing prostitute makeup enhanced them. 

“That woman had a life and dreams,” Theresa droned.  “She tried to hurt you,” Gregor emphasized.  “She couldn’t help it… It was Lenora Stefanski.  That odd woman who kept calling me 'bold' for how I wore my hair.”  Gregor finally began to cry.  He was not expecting such a terrible fate for that poor woman.

Theresa gently placed her hand on Gregor’s back before he rested his head on her lap sobbing more. "There... there," she replied with her usual stiffness. She remembered promising him that there would be no more of this calamity.

Theresa approached the front door and was greeted a gaunt man wearing a pair of teashades.  She looked at him awkwardly, not knowing how to introduce herself. Theresa was not even certain that this man was Daniel.  “Umm… Is Mr. Keilhaus home?”  “This is he,” the man replied sternly.  Beyond the glasses concealing his eyes, the man was unrecognizable, being unhealthily gaunt, and sporting a mustache and much shorter hair than Daniel had in his youth. 

“Hello… Daniel, it’s me_”  “I know who you are.  Do you not think that I can recognize my own sister?”  He hugged Theresa tightly and abruptly.  “I always had this thread of hope, that you somehow did not actually die,” Daniel said before releasing her.  “I am grateful to be here,” she replied uneasily.

“Please, let’s go into the parlor.  Make yourself at home.”

The two sat down in some rather stiff and uncomfortable chairs in Daniel’s parlor.  He studied Theresa, “You are actually here, right?  I am not going mad?” he asked.  “I’m not sure how to explain what happened.  It’s kind of unbelievable.”  “Try me,” Daniel replied.

“I made this elixir that I inhaled, and it petrified my entire body.  I was in a sort of transitional phase between being alive and dead.  I regained consciousness in a coffin and a boy dug me out,” she briefed him in haste.  “Fascinating,” Daniel replied.  He was still unclear of any science behind what Theresa was saying. 

“It was terrible,” Theresa lamented, “being buried alive.  I’ve never been more scared.  I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”  “I could only imagine. Well, that boy who dug you up deserved some sort of award.”   Theresa chuckled awkwardly in response, “Well, he got more of a punishment.  We got married.”  “Married, and I was not even invited?”  “I thought you were still in Linz! I did not know how to contact you.”  “I jest, Theresa. That Linz business was ages ago. So, who was the lucky man?”  “His name is Gregor Goth.  He’s a doctor.”

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed.  “So, you are the infamous Theresa Goth!  Survived a shotgun blast to the back?  You do not look like you have a scratch on you!”  Theresa’s pale face turned crimson, not realizing how much the story of her murder had spread.  “Yes, that was me… an idiot shot me in the back and crippled me for almost a year.”   Daniel scowled “Had I known that you were the one that this idiot shot, I would have hunted him down myself!”   “Well my back was turned to him and nobody saw his face, unfortunately.”   “Yes, quite a mystery. Everything about you is miraculous, Theresa.  The hat especially!” 

“Would you please stop with the excessive flattery?” Theresa replied, becoming more unnerved by Daniel’s slimy demeanor and lack of sincerity. “I’m sorry, that was a bit harsh," she apologized for her bluntness.

“I understand.  I tend to make people uncomfortable when I’m trying to be cordial.  It does not come quite naturally to me.”

Daniel suddenly appeared mournful, “Shame what happened with Jakob.  He always had a temper, but I never imagined him doing... that.”  Theresa sighed, “You two used to beat the piss out of each other.”  “HE used to beat the piss out of ME!  You can only push a man so far.  I finally fought back and gave him a black eye.  It was a cowardly strike, I will admit… but he underestimated me," Daniel rambled. “Didn’t he lock you in the outhouse after you did that?”  Daniel stared at the floor, mildly embarrassed of these childhood memories, “Speaking of pieces of shit…”

Theresa caught a glimpse of Daniel’s eyes, which looked abnormally pale.  “Umm… the glasses?” she gestured towards his face.  “Oh these?  I have an infection, it’s a little embarrassing.”   Daniel abruptly stood up to disrupt the conversation, “Can I make you some tea?  Congou or perhaps Oolong?”   Theresa ignored the offer, “I’m a doctor, let me see your eyes.”  “I’d really prefer not to.”  “Daniel, take off the glasses!” Theresa demanded.  Daniel groaned and lowered his glasses, revealing that his irises were completely white, “Satisfied?”  He muttered.

Theresa felt as if her innards collapsed, “Daniel… What did you do to yourself?”  “It’s just a little Arcus Senilis.” 

Theresa grew indignant from Daniel’s lies, “Do you take me for a moron?  Arcus Senilis does not look like that!”  “I am not sure what else to say to you, Theresa.”  “What did you do, Daniel?!” she repeated louder, unable to maintain a stoic presence.  She could tell that Daniel had been consuming controlled amounts of Nocturnis Vitae, exhibiting early symptoms of his transformation. 

Daniel took out a handkerchief and coughed a small amount of blood into it.  “It’s nothing,” he added, “just cleansing myself of bad blood.”   Theresa sat there silently and watched in horror.  “What?” he responded, in annoyance.  “You are trying to turn yourself into a vampire, Daniel!  This is bad.  I need to find out how to stop this!”  “A vampire?” Daniel chortled, “It’s just a throat infection!”

Daniel put one arm over his face and reached out towards Theresa, slowly walking in her direction, “Oooh!  I’m a vampire!  I’m going drink your blood!” he mocked, his Austrian accent suddenly becoming apparent.  Theresa leapt out of the chair and pulled out her wand before pointing it at Daniel in an attempt to defend herself.  He cackled obnoxiously, “So we are playing pretend?  I’m a vampire and you are going to use a toy wand to cast a curse on me?”  Theresa had once attempted to use the wand in private to levitate an empty flask three inches from her desk, but had been unsuccessful.  She felt foolish for even attempting.  She was nonetheless fearful of what Daniel could do.

“It’s fucking sharp and strong enough to puncture metal!”  “We have not seen each other for 26 years and the first thing you want to do is stab your own brother with a children’s toy?”  “You stay away from me, Daniel!” she replied, continuing to point the wand in Daniel’s direction as she inched towards the doorway.  “This is pathetic and childish, Theresa!”  “Either let me help you or I’ll have no other option!”  she shouted before bolting out of the house.