#hematophagy

           She and Erian had claimed the small corner of the garden, beneath a willow and among the exterior wall of a charming hedge maze. They were not permitted to enter the maze without Auntie, so their defiance was marked by the small window they had carved through the hedge so that they could peer into the maze and spy on the creatures that dwelled there.

           Among the swing and tree house, there was also a wrought iron table with four small chairs. For as taciturn as Auntie was, she had ensured the children had the common comforts of children their age. A normal life was impossible to live, but it could be replicated in their tidy material culture.

           On that day, Erian’s chair was decorated with a bouquet of late spring flowers, amateurly put together by his sister, and a stuffed slyphic plush, who served as his surrogate at the night’s proceedings. In the chair across from Violetta’s sat a large, old mirror. It was draped in Violetta’s dark purple cloak and had a flower crown hung from one corner as if it were set upon a head at a jaunty angle.

           Violetta deftly climbed up into the tree, carrying her porcelain teapot with her. At the meeting spot of the two enormous limbs of the great, old tree, there was a small hollow. It was a stash for Erian and Violetta, mostly because only a small hand and thin arm could plumb the dark depths. Fearlessly, Violetta reached into the stash and pulled out an enchanted bottle. She poured the ruby contents from the bottle into the teapot and then corked the bottle. Before she returned it, she took out a pencil and made a little hash mark on the paper label tied to the bottle. The dark prize within it would only stay warm and fresh for a single cycle of the moon, from dark to full, so it was imperative that she and Erian keep track of its age.

           Once she was back on the ground, Violetta put out two settings, though she was serving three in spirit. When it came to serving herself and her guests, she only poured the blood into her own cup. Erian’s cup was filled with a sludgy mix of puddle water, moss, and “tea” leaves. It was meant to be symbolic of a cure for his illness, and she administered it with all the love and reverence of one long practiced in bedside manner. Then there was the matter of the mirror.

           Or, rather, the creature in the mirror.

           Before Violetta seated herself, she looked up at the sky. Judging the sun to be down, at last, she reached out and adjusted the cloak that clung to the mirror. When she sat down, her reflection mimicked her, as one would assume it should.

           But the creature in the mirror was not meant to be there.

           The onyx black surface of the scrying mirror perfectly reflected a version of the child sitting before it, but that version was not a perfect replica of Violetta. It shared similarities, such as the shape and markings of her face, but where Violetta’s stare was dark scarlet, this creature’s eyes glowed crimson from within the shadows of a tattered hood.

           “Our brother…he is ill again?” The creature intoned, though Violetta would be the only one to hear it.

           The word “our” made Violetta’s ears droop and her lips pout into a frown. Her companion refused to meet Erian, and even made Violetta swear to speak lies of its existence. She had told Erian that she had a strange friend and spoke of the creature, but she used veiled language since she was afraid her brother would be angry. She knew he was smarter than her, and that she should heed his warnings about dark creatures, like those he read about, but this creature was with her always and she didn’t know how to explain that.

           “He is,” she whispered in response. “He is always sick when he must feed deeply. I don’t get sick like he does, but he…is very unwell. It is why we try to always have small amounts always. Sometimes, it is hard, though. Auntie must be careful since she cannot feed us because she is older now and we eat a lot more than we once did.”

           “It will be different when you are older. I promise,” the creature urged.

           Violetta nodded to the words and sipped the blood from her teacup. Few things made her feel warm. Even sitting beside a fire could only warm her skin. But fresh blood warmed her from the core. It was the sort of pleasant that made it tempting to indulge too deeply. However, even as a child, Violetta was aware of the dangers of giving in to the hunger.

           “Don’t forget me,” the creature murmured sullenly.

           The child opened her eyes and smiled faintly. She dipped a pale finger into the cup’s contents and reached out to smear the blood over the place where her reflection’s lips should be.

           “What are you doing!?”

           Auntie’s fear rolled from her as she stormed over, and the potent wave of emotion shocked Violetta more than the snarled inquiry. She stared, wide-eyed and confused, at her caretaker, even as the woman moved around to pick up the mirror. To Auntie’s relief, the blood had not been transferred.

           Or so she would believe.

           “This is not a toy!” She snapped. “How many times must I tell you that!? Clean up this…where did you get that blood? Oh…that’s it. Clean up this mess and you will go straight to your room. You have studies to see to anyhow. Get to it, now. Chop chop.”

           Before Violetta had control enough to protest, Auntie stormed off with the mirror, throwing the flower crown to the ground as she went. Dark tears welled at the child’s lash line as she pondered the definition of injustice, but she obediently did as she was told. She cleaned up the cup in front of her surrogate brother first, her tears falling down her cheeks and staining her dress as she did. She worried since she had not conducted the entire symbolic ritual, that he would remain sick for days. This distressed her more than having her playtime revoked.

           When she went to finish the cup of blood, she caught the glowing eye reflected on the grim surface.