By Ruth A. Acheson

I’d always been an oddity with my ivory skin, ebony hair, and blood-red lips, but when my father chose a vampyyri—a female descendant of the vampires—as his second wife, my appearance became a curse. I wasn’t of the bloodsuckers, but to the outsiders who only knew them through scary tales, I looked like it. My looks frightened away my subjects and many of my closest friends.

“You shouldn’t be self-conscious of the resemblance, Bianca.” My stepmother leaned closer to her huge, gold-framed mirror, examining her pale face. “The vampyyrit are a dying race. Soon, no one will associate your features with us or the new moon. You merely look like your mother.”

“The vampyyrit still frighten those who don’t know any better,” I muttered.

“Humans are fools.” She turned on me, baring her sharp, white teeth in a cold smile. “So, find something useful to do, please.”

I sighed and left her locked in her ritual staring match with the mirror. The vampyyrit were known for their tempers, and once the fire had been stoked, the flames took a long while to die.

I ventured into the woods surrounding our secluded manor. My stepmother’s annoyance meant misery for the household, and I escaped whenever I could, usually accompanied by my best friend Hunter, occasionally alone with the trees.

Twilight fell as I meandered through the forest. As shadows deepened, the smell of damp soil and wet vegetation became more pronounced. An owl screeched from its hidden perch.

A shiver ran from my head to my booted feet at the sound. Why did I wander out into the forest? I’ve never been out here at night alone—

“Bianca!”

“What?” I yelped and groped for the knife I’d forgotten to bring. “Who’s there?”

“Just me.” He uncovered his firefly lantern and held it up, flooding his face with dim, gold light.

“Hunter.” I glared at him. “Why’d you follow me?”

He shifted on his feet. “Your stepmother’s out for blood.”

“Yeah, she was grumpy.” I smirked. “That’s norm—”

“No, I mean literally.” Hunter sighed. “It’s the new moon, Bianca.”

“So?” I propped my hands on my hips.

He stepped closer. “You know how unpredictable vampyyrit get during the new moon. She’s angry at you, and I’ve orders—”

“Why me?” Panic edged my voice.

Hunter set the lantern on a stump. “You’re more beautiful than she is, for starters.”

I scoffed. “Ridiculous. She’s a vampyyri. Eternally beautiful.”

“She doesn’t see that in her mirror.” He slumped against a tree. “More importantly, you’re blocking the way to the throne.”

My whisper was so soft that at first, I wondered if he’d heard me.

“Basically, kill you.” He snorted. “She’s insane.”

“She may be of vampire descent,” I said as I blinked away tears and paced before an old pine, “but she’s my stepmother! She’s not supposed to want to kill me. Besides, Father would never let her.”

Hunter settled a hand on my shoulder. “You’re too innocent for your own good, Bianca. Haven’t you noticed how your father grows weaker each day? How she grows stronger and takes more of the ruling responsibilities?”

I gasped. “She isn’t. She can’t be.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked into the yellowish lanternlight.

So, what do I do? My throat was so tight that I couldn’t ask.

“You’re going to the dwarves’ cottage.” Hunter squeezed my shoulder. “They’ll hide you for now.”

“She wants me executed?” I swallowed a sob and clutched at my best friend. “What about my father, the servants—”

“Vampires are too dangerous for you to deal with, Bianca,” Hunter said. “You’re going to the dwarves.”

“W-What about… my life?” My whisper was strangled by tears.

“I wish I could change it.” Hunter picked up the lantern. “Hurry.”

I followed him through the dark forest, barely comprehending my life’s sudden upheaval, but focusing on Hunter’s loyalty. He had all the answers and went straight to the truth of the matter, as a good friend should.

“But what about you, Hunter?” I asked as he led me up a steep hill. “What’s my stepmother going to do to you, if you don’t… end me?”

“She won’t do anything to me.” His grin was audible. “I’m a diligent guard. Besides, she likes me too much to end me.”

“What sort of logic is that?” I held onto his cloak as he climbed the hill. “She’ll kill me but won’t kill you if you don’t kill me?”

“Vampyyrit are unpredictable and easily angered.” Hunter stopped as we crested the hill and looked down on a tiny cottage. Light spilled from its windows and pierced the gloom.

“That’s for sure.” I stared at the cottage, at the golden warmth reaching out into the damp forest. A whiff of something tickled my nose; something with garlic and sage.

“Let’s go.” Hunter grabbed my hand. “We’ll be late for dinner.”

We scrambled down the hill and paused at the edge of the clearing to catch our breath. Hunter still clutched my hand.

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” I bit my lip.

He smiled. “I’ve spent my life protecting your manor, and I’ve studied vampyyrit on the side. All will be well.”

“Keep some garlic in your pockets, just in case.” My voice trembled. “I can’t lose you, Hunter. You’re my best friend, my mentor—” I stopped before my true love could escape.

“Bianca…” He squeezed my hand. “This is what I’ve waited for my entire life.”

Me? A battle with a bloodsucker? Dwarves’ soup? “What?”

Hunter held the lantern up, so its greenish light fell on my face. “A chance to fight for my best friend and favorite girl.”

“Even though she looks like a vampyyri.” I smirked.

“Even then.” Hunter drew a deep breath. “Let’s go. That soup smells incredible.”

I followed my best friend toward the dwarves’ cottage and the scent of sage and garlic.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ruth A. Acheson is an author, farmer’s daughter, and dreamer from the PNW. She enjoys classic literature, long walks, and creating stories which glorify her Savior and amuse her readers. Although she doesn’t spend her days with Laurie Lawrence, she—like Jo March—clutters her room with apple cores, poetry, and pencils. When she’s not investigating wardrobe worlds, playing the piano, or studying, you can find her website.

---

More Stories | Author Website