Lesbian Vampire Ch 03 That Which Haunts You

Hello, Reader! Brief note, this is a multi-chapter story about a witch named Rhea who has been tasked to team up with a vampire named Lucy after the discovery of a mysterious murder that threatens both their worlds. This is my first attempt at a longer story and, honestly, I had no idea what I was getting into---IT JUST KEEPS GOING. The story has taken control, I'm just its proxy. I can say, however, that this is an erotic story, the build is just much slower than I anticipated. We're just not there but not yet. So, yeah. I'm learning writing is weird, y'all.

A huge thank you to beta readers! Berry, I know you like to self-deprecate so don't look as I tell the readers who come across this story how much of a godsend your efforts have been and the story wouldn't be the same without you. And to Ash, thank so much for your reflections and depth you've added to the characters!

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Rhea shoved clothes in her bag then, upon seeing the sky darken, redoubled her efforts. She didn't want any delays that might extend the trip to the city. She wasn't sure how much she should bring. Although she hoped to spend as little time with the vampire as possible, she doubted the deaths were uncomplicated. She zipped up the large leather travel bag; it still had a stiffly pristine quality to it. She didn't travel much.

The memory of Greta's tearful confession, that the witch who had been cruelly murdered was now tortured even in death, crept back into her mind. She startled at a knock on her door that was open to the hallway. Rachel was leaning on the threshold, arms crossed.

"So this is happening." she said, more a statement than question.

Rhea shrugged her shoulders, "I'm not thrilled about it. But Greta was right-- we have no other choice." The old woman had wept when she told her what she had seen in deep trance and Rhea had never seen her so disturbed. "Greta found the dead woman's spirit. Sort of," she explained to Rachel. "Greta wasn't sure what to tell the other witches but I don't see much sense in keeping it a secret.

Rachel's face contorted into shock, "What? Why the fuck didn't she say something?"

"Because it's not that simple. The spirit is trapped." Rhea answered.

With a slight irritation Rachel asked, "so why can't we just un-trap her?"

This interrogation didn't help Rhea's stress, but she knew Rachel had a point. Necromancers were well-acquainted with aiding trapped spirits. It was strange that this one had flummoxed their collective generations of wisdom gathered on the island.

"It's not that simple." Rhea repeated.

"Then make me understand." Rachel flopped into a nearby chair and Rhea knew she wouldn't budge until she was satisfied.

Rhea sat on her bed. "It's not like a spirit trapped somewhere in the physical world," she explained, "Greta thinks some force is...holding her. In the ether, between our physical world and the spirit realms. And she doesn't know what it is."

Rachel frowned, "How does she know this?"

"Greta went into a trance and found the dead witch's spirit. But she's trapped by some terrible force. Greta couldn't make out much but it terrified her. It shocked her out of her trance and she felt sick for hours." said Rhea.

"Holy shit," said Rachel, "and she has no idea what it is?"

Rhea shook her head sadly.

Rachel sat, silenced by shock. Rhea explained, "Greta remembers reading about something similar when she was still initiating. She was studying in some old archive when she came across documents about a ritual from the 15th century. The print was old and hard to read, and many of the pages were missing. But what she read scared her enough to run it to her teacher."

"What did it say?" Rachel asked.

"She wasn't sure," said Rhea. "Mostly notes on failed rituals. From what she remembers, the writer seemed to document people he had killed."

"He killed someone? For a ritual?" Rachel asked, voice loaded in horror.

"As part of the ritual." Rhea corrected. "It seems like he was aiming to control their spirit. But the ritual kept going wrong. The papers Greta read were his reflections on the failures. And what he might do differently next time." Rhea shuddered. "She said the pages themselves had a putrid energy and she felt a mild revulsion touching them. It was something she never forgot, but never felt again. Until the trance."

"So the killer is repeating history?" asked Rachel.

Rhea nodded. "If Greta is right, it means someone is trying to recreate the ritual. And if they failed, it means they will kill again. If they succeed..." Rhea trailed off. "I don't know what that means." She stood and grabbed her bag, "But in the meantime, I'm going to see what that damn vampire knows."

"Wait, what happened to the documents?" Rachel asked. "What else did she find about whatever the ritual was?"

"The teacher took them away and wouldn't talk about it again." Rhea answered. Rachel sat silent then asked, "Shouldn't Kivan try to see what he can find first, before Greta sends you into the arms of a vampire?"

Rhea rolled her eyes and rested the bag back down. "I'm not running into the arms of a vampire. You put Kyle under--you saw he was telling the truth," she said "and Greta has already talked to Kivan, but that research will take weeks and something useful may not even turn up. If they have any information we don't--"

Rachel's eyes cut across the other woman, "I've known you for a long time and I've never seen you jump headfirst into anything without a plan. Like working with a vampire. Alone."

"I've got a plan-- I stick to the facts and get back here as soon as I can. And I'm going alone because we need all hands here." Rhea said, and motioned for Rachel to stand. It was partially true-- the equinox was coming and with it would come springtime and a plethora of tourists. The coven just took in a new blood harvest and needed to replenish the stores of product.

But both of them knew why Greta wanted Rhea to do this. She relied on Rhea. She trusted Rhea's abilities more than anyone else. And for good reason. In the decades she had been on the island, she pursued necromancy with single-minded determination and did not stop until she mastered it.

And Rhea was determined to succeed now: to bring justice for the dead and extinguish whatever vile magick the killer dabbled in.

Besides, Greta wanted to keep this quiet. Gossip between covens spread faster than the California wildfires in summertime. And the details might lead to panic.

Rhea had looked at the old woman with doubt in her eyes when Greta asked her to do it alone. But she felt a deep hurt seeing her mentor in such pain.

"Please, Rhea,"

Greta had implored,

"I know the coven relies on you more than any other witch and it makes me uneasy to ask you to do something so extreme but there is no other way."

There was no one as steadfast or powerful as Rhea. And she could control the vampire's body. It had to be her.

Rhea grabbed a coat hanging over a chair. It was the same one she wore a few days ago, staking out the club with the others. Rachel followed Rhea out to the hallway and watched as she locked the door to her room. "Do you want her?" Rachel asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Like, if she weren't a vampire. Just some woman in a bar. Who bought you a drink and said 'You're beautiful.' Would you want her?"

"Stop, Rachel. Not now." Rhea said and walked down the hall. Rachel followed.

"I'm serious!" she hissed.

Rhea paused and looked at her, "Maybe? I don't know."

"That's important! I'm scared this fascination with the vampire is going to hit you like a train."

Rhea was growing irritated; she didn't have the energy to reassure Rachel right now. "There is no fascination," Rhea insisted, irritable. "I'm going and I'll get back here as soon as I can. I'll probably be gone for a few days at worst."

Rachel looked at her, worried, "Just be careful"

"I'm always careful," said Rhea

"And don't let her kiss you!" Rachel hollered down the hallway as an afterthought, "if you let her kiss you, there's no going back!" Rhea did not stop but raised her hand and gave a mid-air 'thumbs up' to Rachel behind her. She headed toward Kivan's office. He wasn't at his desk when she walked through the door, so she called out his name and he emerged from between 2 tall bookshelves.

"Well, hello!" he said, cheery, "I heard the full moon ritual has turned into a full-size pain in the ass."

Rhea smiled. "I came to say goodbye and ask what Greta told you."

"Lost documents from the 15th century, perversion of necromancy tradition, yada yada. She told me all about it and I'll tell you what I keep telling her about every 15 minutes, I'm looking. I'm asking every dead person who will talk to me and calling the live ones on the damn phone." He added a flippant emphasis and a graceful flourish of his hand. Kivan was nearly as old as Greta and his years had gifted him a steadiness that had become a point of refuge for Rhea. Although she had deep respect for both him and Greta, time seemed to weigh on the old woman. Duty consumed her while Kivan seemed to radiate more and more peacefulness with each year that passed.

"Why are you going alone?" Kivan asked plainly.

Rhea groaned, "Not you too."

Kivan looked at her, skeptical.

Rhea inhaled, "Greta wants to keep this quiet. She's scared of what might happen if word got out. She knows I can protect myself from a vampire but maybe not a partner if things, you know, get bad." She met Kivan's eyes and added "I've never seen her like this." Fear curled through her gut; she rubbed the side of her neck with the flats of her fingers.

Kivan looked at her. "It's going to be ok," he said.

Rhea yearned to embrace the certainty in his voice. But the moment she allowed herself to feel certain about any of this she might get swept away. And too many people were counting on her. "I don't know Kivan," she replied, "this feels different." Kivan's eyes shone like the surface of dark water under a clouded sky.

He crossed around his desk and stretched his narrow arms around her middle. A few inches shorter than Rhea, he pressed his cheek into her shoulder as he hugged their bodies together. "I've been around awhile now and every couple generations, an impossible nightmare emerges that threatens to destroy us all," he said. "Believe me, behind every single one of those nightmares were human beings. Flesh and blood, igniting chaos for their own gain. Our wisdom is older than any of their antics. And your power is greater, I promise you." The crush of his embrace felt grounding to Rhea despite feeling a bit lumbering against his slight frame. Though her body hadn't aged much since she initiated into necromancy, there had always been a rounded quality about her limbs through her middle. Although naturally active and easily muscled, she never quite managed to winnow back the softness, much to her mother's chagrin when she was still alive.

"I hope you're right," Rhea said as he pulled away. "And call me as soon as you know anything."

Kivan nodded, "Absolutely."

Rhea said goodbye and headed towards the docks where Jerry waited with his boat. The pungent smell of the marina, sulfur and rotting fish, filled her nose as the wooden pier sounded under her shoes. She saw Jerry standing at the end near his boat talking to a frantic tourist. As Rhea approached, she saw the woman pointing towards a sea lion pup laying on the rocky shoreline nearby. Scrawny and mournful, it lifted it's head weakly at the woman's commotion.

"It's the way of the animal kingdom," Jerry attempted. "When the pups get too big, their mothers stop nursing them. They need to hunt for themselves for the first time and they can't quite catch the fish." The woman was not dissuaded and asked about bringing fish from the local market. Jerry grimaced, "That makes them rely on humans more. And when we get tangled up in their world, we just make things worse. Hell, global warming and waste run off has already driven down their food supply, if he doesn't learn to hunt now..." With a frown the woman stomped off as she muttered something about googling a rescue agency.

Rhea shrugged as Jerry's eyes met hers. "I guess a changing world is always a bit horrific when you have to see it up close," she mused.

Jerry forced a laugh as he grabbed Rhea's bag.

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Rhea stepped from the car only to jump back as a jogger ran by. The sidewalk in front of the old building was narrow and she struggled to wield her bag. A car horn sounded from a black sedan that idled, waiting for her driver to leave and free the spot. "Can you shut the door, please?' the driver yelled, irritable, as a line of cars behind the honking sedan grew.

"Sor--" Rhea managed as she slammed the door shut and heaved herself towards the blonde wooden doors embedded deep within the stucco archway. The white walls of the building stretched high and were capped at a point by brown-shingled roofing-- the last of the building's steeple and its history as a church. Rhea touched the knob and whispered an incantation; it yielded to her hand.

The door opened with a groan and stuck a bit as Rhea pushed in. The interior corridor was stuffy. Stationing the entrance under the main steeple allowed the architect to install high windows that lit the space brightly but made it hot. Like a pressure cooker, thought Rhea each time she stayed. She fumbled with her bag towards the stairs that led to the enclave.

On the way, she passed the entrance to the yoga studio owned by another coven of witches. They owned the building but shared the enclave with necromancers, or really any witch in need. Their magick required them to stay where plants and trees grew wild but the coven members were determined to have a studio in the city proper.

Rhea had hoped to confer with some of them but was disappointed to see the studio was shut down, as it had been for over a year. She also wanted to offer condolences-- Greta thought the dead witch was one of theirs. She climbed the stairs and opened the door at the top with another incantation over the knob. The living room was washed in weak natural light and in the attached kitchen sat Bethanny, the current caretaker of the enclave. She ate a piece of grainy bread spread with pale butter. She had placed her elbow on the table. Her slender forearm supported the weight of her head as she rested her narrow chin on a pale hand.

"Hey," Bethanny said, unceremonious. She arched a plucked-thin eyebrow as she drew the bread to her mouth and bit down. "I heard you were coming," she said, voice muffled.

"Hey," Rhea responded and took a few steps into the living room, "anyone else here?"

"No," Bethanny said plainly.

"Have things been slow?" Rhea asked.

"Yeah," she responded. The air hung stale between them.

"Huh," said Rhea. She never knew what to make of Bethanny and tried to find some solace in her predictability. She assumed Bethanny was standoffish because the woman was fatigued. She had not yet initiated into the mountain coven despite working towards it for years. She was offered the caretaker position at some point with the hopes that freedom from paying rent each month would help her.

"How's initiation going?" Rhea asked.

"Soon," responded Bethanny, without blinking.

"Great!" Rhea was getting frustrated. "Are they ever going to reopen that yoga studio?"

"I don't know," said Bethanny.

Rhea didn't remember finding her so off-putting. She had always been a tad prickly but could easily be baited into gossiping about the coven-- she loved nothing better than to rant about how unreasonable they were, prolonging her initiation for no good reason. Or how they're too cheap to hire an accountant so they just keep hexing whatever tax auditor shows up.

"Ok, well," Rhea's voice slightly higher in pitch, "I'm going to get set up, maybe take a nap." She figured she may as well get some sleep before sunset. She moved towards the hallway to slip into a room, hopefully with a locking door. She considered asking Bethanny if she knew the dead witch, but felt too nervous on the cusp of meeting with Lucy. She'd ask her later.

"You're going to see a vampire!" Bethanny's voice was animated but there was a hint of accusation in her tone.

Rhea turned in surprise. With hesitation, she asked "How did you know?"

Bethanny stared at her for a few moments, "Gossip travels fast. You know that."

Rhea sighed. "They're strange creatures, you know. Vampires." Bethanny continued without regard. Rhea knew she didn't need this. With forced cheerfulness Rhea said, "They sure are," then, "See you around." She finished with a cursory nod and turned.

"Don't bring it back here." Bethanny said, her voice suddenly layered with vitriol.

Rhea paused, confused by the sudden anger in her voice. "What?" she asked.

Bethanny's face was blank but Rhea could see her ribs underneath her tank top expanding and contracting with restless breath. "Don't bring it here. They're vile and will slowly kill us all." Rhea raised a confused brow and as she stepped into the hallway, answered "I won't!" She selected a door and slipped in before Bethanny could say anything else.

Bethanny sat nearly motionless at the chipped formica table. The air was heavy and stale, the only sound her breath that weezed steadily, in-and-out of her nose. Across the white wall next to her arm, a black spider crawled into range. In an instant Bethanny's hand shot out and seized it then popped it into her mouth with a sickening crunch.

Inside the room, Rhea placed her bag on the desk before a window. Then she wrestled it open, strained by the bloated wood and aged metal. It opened only part way and lacked a screen. The gap was wide enough a cat could get in. But she didn't have a choice, she thought.

The air was heavy and stale.

She looked out-- the sun hung low and clouds gathered in the sky. There were still a few hours before sunset. She fished the card Lucy had given her from her wallet. Creme in color, the only print was an address in gold. Rhea tapped it into her phone-- it was a studio in the arts district and about a 15 minute walk. Plenty of time to shower and sleep.

The steam of the shower circled round her body as she twisted the faucet handle. The water slowed to a drip, then ceased altogether. She pulled the curtain aside and groped the wall for the towel. The steam was so thick she could scarcely see. She dried her body and stepped to the bathmat, pulling the hot pink cap from her head. The steam seemed to grow heavier though the shower had been turned off, obscuring and distorting her reflection in the mirror.

She shivered and it struck her-- this wasn't steam but fog, flowing into the bathroom through the cracks in the old door that barely hung on it's frame. She wrapped the towel around herself and pulled the door open. More fog rushed in like a gust, flowing across her skin and enrobing her in a veil of gray. It filled her nose and throat with each breath, cold and thick.

She stepped into the bedroom and saw the window was open. It was dark outside--when had it gotten so late? She saw no city lights or bustling nightlife, not even stars in the sky; just the heavy moon nestled within pitch black. She turned and gasped with a start. The vampire sat in the desk chair that had been pulled across the room, illuminated by moonlight. Lucy sat with one leg crossed over the other and slightly slouched in the chair. Her chin rested lightly on one pale hand.

"You didn't come," Lucy said. Her blue eyes were shadowed by her eyebrows in the dark.

"I wanted to," Rhea answered as she looked out the window, "but it was night before I even..." She trailed off, suddenly frantic. She had hours of light when she stepped into the shower, she was sure of it. Her breath shallowed and her limbs felt light as panic flooded her body. She turned and gazed at the waning moon.