The Vampire's Crimson Kiss (Editing)

Chapter 49/The flight of the orphans

"Nothing.. Lets you get you back up in the saddle so we can continue." Mary said helping me up.

I got back onto the saddle, and we continued. Then we moved to create more space from the guards. 

"When did you last fill your Moon cup?" said Mary, referring to my menstrual cycle.

"You're right, I'm late," I said, realizing in all the pressure I hadn't kept track.

"If you might even be with child, the Duke must be informed," said Mary, urging her horse to pick up the pace. The company started clattering down the road faster.

"Why? The high priestess will still seek to get rid of me," I said.

"Are you kidding? If you're about to have his child, that will place her at the top of her order. It's been well over 200 years since there was a vampire grandmother. She will switch allegiance to the Duke instantly. With the head of the order behind him, it will be easy for him to take over the high council. And if you're feeling selfish, he will marry you instantly, father or no father. Do you remember Lady Valencia? She was a coven girl in the 1980s. She was pregnant for three months before having a miscarriage. That was such a stunning achievement they turned her and raised her to the lady status for it."

"Hang on, will they make me a vampire?" I asked as we rode.

"Seriously? You haven't seen vampires around pregnant girls? There's a big taboo about feeding off mothers-to-be. I've read of Dukedoms being crushed for suggesting it happened. Apparently, if you turn a pregnant woman, you create a child who is a day-walker. Half human, half vampire, and friend to no one. The vampires are very afraid to do that - they think it's an offense to the blood god."

This conversation had awakened the sleeping girl, Ella held in my arms. 

"What's wrong?" she said weakly, lifting her head.

"Nothing, nothing. Go back to sleep," I said, placing my hand on her head. We would have to find somewhere to take the kids. We had been riding hard all day toward the Keep in London. Night was approaching, but Mary knew of a village fortress under the control of the Duke. We rode swiftly into the village as darkness fell. Ella peeled away from me like a ragdoll.

"I don't feel so good," she said.

I had been worrying about her all day. Mary held her for a moment while I dismounted. Seeing Ella in Mary's arms, I noticed the look of a worried mother rather than the Warrior General. Ella looked very pale.

"See if they have a doctor in the village," I instructed one of the soldiers. These days, it was a remote chance. They might have someone.

The soldier, his eyes filled with urgency, glanced at Mary for confirmation. She nodded solemnly, and with a salute, he handed his horse over to another and hurried off. We arrived at a weathered old coaching inn, its timbers worn and weather-beaten, yet standing as a bastion of shelter in the encroaching darkness. Without hesitation, we entered its welcoming embrace.

Inside, the landlord, a weathered man with a kindly face, took one look at Mary in her inquisitor collar and recognized the gravity of our situation. With a silent understanding, he ushered us both to the best room the inn could offer, a refuge from the trials that awaited outside. Gently, I placed Ella onto the plush bedding of the large double bed. Despite the warmth of the room, her skin felt icy beneath my touch, a stark reminder of the perilous journey we had endured.

Wrapping her in blankets, we cocooned her as best we could, while I held her hand tightly, as if by sheer willpower I could infuse her fragile form with vitality once more. It was a futile hope, perhaps, but in the face of such desperation, hope was all we had.

Soon, an elderly woman, her features softened by age and wisdom, arrived at our door. She had once been a nurse, before the fall of civilization, and her presence brought a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With a gentle yet practiced touch, she examined Ella, her brow furrowing with concern as she assessed the extent of her injuries.

After what seemed like an eternity, the nurse rose from her examination and approached me, her expression grave. In a hushed tone, she spoke words that struck fear into my heart.

"She has lost so much blood," she murmured, her voice heavy with sorrow. "I have seen many wounds in my time, but never have I encountered a child so grievously drained. She is weak, and moving her could prove fatal. What she needs now is nourishment, the finest broth we can procure. But even then, I fear the odds are stacked against her. She is but a child, and the toll taken on her young body may be too great to overcome."

I nodded, struggling to contain the torrent of emotions raging within me. As I turned back to Molly, her weak voice pierced the silence, drawing me back to her side. The weight of responsibility bore down upon me, threatening to crush me beneath its burden. I longed to flee, to seek refuge in the arms of the Duke, to embrace the safety he offered. Yet, as I looked into Molly's eyes, clouded with pain and fear, I knew that I could not abandon her. She needed me now more than ever, and I would not forsake her, not while there was still a glimmer of hope to cling to amidst the darkness that threatened to consume us all.