Author's note:
Thank you to Liter Knight for her careful editing!
This story takes place in the same setting as the Daughters of the Moon series but features separate characters and an unrelated plot. You don't have to read the main series to understand this story, but there are explanations in the main series that will add detail to this story.
Daughters of the Moon: Witchnight
Amelia Mircalla held the girl in her embrace, stroking her body gently as she sucked at her neck. The girl's blood was a warm, rich torrent that filled her with pleasure, with meaning. Amelia had fed on countless lives over her long years and the joy of it never lessened. Each meal was as unique and beautiful as the one before. The girl moaned and squeezed Amelia's wrist as another gout of blood was pulled from her, urging Amelia to keep going. Amelia put her hand over the girl's and squeezed back, a promise to be with her until the end.
Amelia felt that end approaching and began to feed faster, tearing the wound in the girl's neck a little wider so the blood flowed in a torrent. She knew she should slow down, draw out the pleasure of feeding as long as possible, but she couldn't help herself; it was one of her many bad habits. She took more and more, desperately trying to heighten the final moments into a crescendo. Beneath her, the girl arched and her breathing turned rapid and shallow. Then she froze, every muscle quivering, as a final climax took her. Amelia could taste the climax in the last few swallows of blood. It tingled on her tongue and tickled its way down her throat and settled in her belly, churning her blood, the very essence of her being, with sharp waves of bliss. Amelia shivered slightly, sharing the girl's last moments. Then she relaxed as the girl breathed out and was still.
Amelia gently placed the body beside her, laying it on the blanket they shared. She was in a small copse of trees a mile from the small village where she had found the girl. She had asked the girl where lovers went to be alone, to share their first time together, and the girl had brought her here. It was a small clearing in the tame, managed forest the village used for firewood. Amelia could faintly sense the many acts of love that had taken place in this cozy, hidden clearing. The echoes of passions shared and lives changed forever by their connection to another. She felt proud to have added to that history.
She stared up at the waxing, gibbous moon peeking through the thinned trees above her. Her house had a deep connection to the moon. Her sire's first great love had been a moon goddess, a goddess of love and dreams, and that connection to the moon and all it represented was passed down in her blood. Looking to the moon always filled Amelia with a sense of contentment, of hope, a certainty that all was right in the world. It made her feel like her mother was always watching over her, no matter how far she traveled.
Thinking of her mother made her mind wander to her sisters, and her mood turned sour. She had been away for a long time, at sea, and when she had returned home she had barely recognized it. Some of the changes she loved; her family had gotten so much bigger. She had so many new nieces and granddaughters with their own loves and dreams. Her sire's bloodline had never been stronger and that was a great comfort to Amelia. She still remembered how close they had come to extinction. But the kingdom her sisters had created made her uneasy. It seemed cold and stifling to her, just a slightly better version of the world men had made for themselves. She remembered the old days more clearly than her sisters, what her house had been before they were driven north, and she didn't think mother would approve of what it had become.
Maybe that was what compelled her to journey south so soon after coming home, into the lands her house once ruled but had been driven from long ago. She was looking for the birthplace of her house, the ruins where her mother had first met her goddess and her bloodline had been born. It wasn't Amelia's first attempt to find that hallowed place, but she was stronger now, and the knowledge she had discovered during her time at sea gave her hope that this time she would be successful.
Amelia reached for the dead girl's body and stroked her cheek gently. There were other reasons not to settle too long at home. The kingdom her sisters built was too restrained for her taste. She knew their restrictions were perfectly rational. When the blooded were settled in one place, siring wantonly would quickly exhaust the food supply. Her sisters had set up rules and regulations to make sure her house's numbers didn't outstrip the blood available. Amelia had always chafed against such restraints. There were so many beautiful women in the world, with sharp minds and fierce spirits, who were crushed under the rules society placed on them. A society built by men for their own gratification. Her blood, the blood of her mother, the blood of her house, was the best chance those poor girls had at liberation. She couldn't pick and choose a mere handful to be given the gift of power and the freedom that came with it. Besides, in her experience restraint wasn't really necessary. Nature had a way of finding a balance, even if there was nothing natural about those of her blood.
Her lips curled into a wry smile for a moment as she laughed silently at her own pretension. The truth was siring was the greatest pleasure a blooded could experience. Even feeding couldn't compare. The blood desired to be spread and the rewards for doing so were intense. Beyond the physical gratification, Amelia loved to watch the transformation her blood wrought; gradually sinking into her new childe, remaking them, body and soul, into something divine. Some of them fought against the change with all their being, others gloried in their transformation and embraced their new existence. Either way, it was lovely to watch, and Amelia wasn't inclined to deny herself the pleasure.
Amelia lifted the dead girl's body gently into her lap, cradling her like a baby. She had been fierce when she was human. Amelia had seen her bright spirit the moment she had laid eyes on her and knew she had to have her. She would be Amelia's third childe since beginning her journey. As she traveled south she had left a trail of childer behind her. She couldn't wait to see what they would become.
Amelia cut her breast and willed a trickle of blood to flow. It gathered around her nipple, coating it. Then she brought the girl's body to her breast. For a few long moments, just long enough for Amelia to get impatient, nothing happened. Then she felt lips take their first pull at her breast as her new childe began to drink.
...
Elizabeth Franz, who everyone just called Ellie, looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her church dress, made of a fine green fabric that had taken her and her mother a whole season to weave. It had blue and white flowers on the sleeves and bust that had taken her another season to embroider. It was a little small for her now. They had made it a few years ago and she had filled out a bit since then, and she and her mother were trying to decide whether to let this one out or start from scratch. Ellie had been trying to convince her mother to let her get one of the new magewrought dresses they were selling now at Elmshorn, the market town just over the river. Her mother had balked at the cost but the dresses were finer than anything they could weave themselves and they were supposed to last for years, never fading or fraying. But until they made a decision Ellie was stuck with her old, worn out church dress.
The one positive to the situation was at least it was tight across her chest, showing off a figure that had begun turning the heads of the local farmers and craftsmen's sons whenever she accompanied her family to church or market. Ellie was getting to an age where her marriage was always on her mind. Sometimes she felt she was as much for sale at the market as the family's harvest. There was one particular head, belonging to a particularly handsome farmer's son who she had caught staring at market and at church. Felix Holzer had grown up on a farm a few miles away from her family's. He was only a couple of years older than she was but it was enough of a difference that she had never caught his attention before. But in the last year her skin had cleared and she filled out and he had certainly noticed that. He was handsome and kind and his family had some of the finest fields and largest herds of cattle in their little county. They had begun speaking after church, small talk peppered with the light flirtation that was allowed under the watchful eyes of priest and parents. Then a few weeks back she had been shocked when he snuck over to her farm after his daily chores. His kisses had been intoxicating. It had been the first time a man had kissed her with passion, put his hands on her. She barely had the self control to stop things before they had gone too far. Ellie wasn't sure if she had a real chance, her family wasn't well off and his parents would see her as a poor match, but Felix's infatuation gave her hope she could settle into a good life and marriage.
Ellie pulled out the bottle of powder she had gotten from the dress shop at Elmshorn. The one that sold the beautiful dresses that never frayed or faded. The powder was black and shined faintly, catching the light of the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. She had snuck away from her parents last time they were in Elmshorn and purchased it in secret. It had taken a good chunk of the savings she had accrued selling socks at market. She had been allowed a free sample at the shop but that had been a different dress, and she had been too afraid to test it at home. But tonight was Valpergisnight, Witchnight, and the time to use it had finally come.
She opened the bottle, took out a tiny pinch of the powder, and sprinkled it on her good church dress. The effect was immediate. The dress shifted, creating a strange sensation on her skin, as if her dress was briefly alive. When her dress was done changing it was a deep black but had a shine to it they could never duplicate from homespun cloth. It had intricate embroidery sewn into it, a repeating pattern of the moon in all its phases, in a silver thread that Ellie could never have afforded. The cut of the dress had changed, too. It fit her perfectly, hugging her figure, and the neckline was low, far lower than her family would ever allow. The tops of her breasts were proudly displayed, an enticement to any man that saw her. Ellie looked at herself and felt a surge of pride. She wasn't the prettiest girl in the parish but in this dress she felt beautiful, powerful. The kind of woman men fought for. Looking at herself she was certain Felix wouldn't be able to resist her.
"What in the hell are you wearing?" asked a voice from behind her.
She turned to see her older brother, Wil, smirking at her. She screamed to herself in frustration at her discovery. Wil was only a couple years older than her and had made it his life's work to torment her as much as possible. When they were children it was a never ending deluge of spiders in her hair and mud in her clothes. As they got older it was constant teasing and mockery. Wil was all but guaranteed to ruin this for her, just like he ruined everything else he touched.
"Just something I picked up in Elmshorn," she said, trying to keep her voice calm.
At that moment the dress shifted again, the unpleasant slithering sensation moving across her skin. In a moment she was back in her church dress. The shop proprietor had told her the more of the powder she used, the longer the transformation lasted. A pinch lasted a minute, but the full bottle would last the night.
"Is that shifting powder?" asked Wil. "How could you afford that?"
