The Impaled Bride (Vampire Bride 3)

I cannot tether myself to only one time, so I drift between both.

The scrape of metal against stone startles me from my trance and–at last–I find my anchor. With relief, my mind settles into my younger form. My sister and I are curled together in the center of a large bed, her arms around me as sleep tugs on my eyelids.

Again, the sound of metal grinding against stone reverberates through the room.

“What’s that noise, Agy?” I whisper, stirring from my drowsy state. “Is it the door? Is the vampire coming to drink my blood?”

“It is not the door,” she answers, pointing to the closed one across the room. Sitting upright, she searches the corners of the room. “I am not certain the vampire would need a door. What is that sound?”

The dim illumination from the smoldering fire in the hearth does very little to dispel the murkiness dwelling on the edges of the room.

The grating noise stops.

“I hate this place,” Ágota grumbles. “It is too big, with too many corridors, and too many rooms, and far too many men.”

“And a vampire. And a boar’s head with human eyes,” I add.

“You are not very comforting, Erjy.”

Ágota tenses as the scraping noise starts anew. She lifts an arm, her palm erupting into light, and the brilliance presses away the shadows and reveals Albrecht standing a few feet from the bed with his fingers shielding his eyes. Clad in a tunic and leggings, he holds a scabbard in his other hand. Behind him is a gap in the wall. A narrow metal door stands open, and I realize it was hidden by the stone façade.

“What are you doing here?” Ágota demands, rising onto her knees and shoving me so I fall behind her.

“I venture where I like. This is my castle,” Albrecht answers testily.

“You are intruding nonetheless,” Ágota retorts with a snarl.

“Is that a secret passage?” I point to the darkened doorway with excitement. “Where does it lead?”

“Yes, it is a secret passage and it ends at my room.” Albrecht sulkily regards us with his dark eyes. He is rather pretty in the illumination of Ágota’s magic. “And I cannot intrude in my own home.”

“Well, you are! My sister was attempting to sleep when you so rudely woke her.” Ágota tosses the ball of light into the air where it hovers over the bed, bathing us in a white glow.

“I wanted to show Erzsébet my sword.”

Ágota’s eyes narrow. “Explain yourself, pervert!”

Albrecht raises the scabbard in his hand. “This is my sword. A gift from my father. I told your sister I will be a great warrior one day and I want to show her my sword.”

“How dull.” Ágota sniffs with disapproval. “But at least it is not the sword between your legs.”

“It is a fey sword,” Albrecht snaps, blushing. “Magical. Powerful. The White Woman in the Wood had it made for our family.”

I wonder how involved the powerful fey is with her human progeny. “Have you ever met her, Albrecht?”

“Or does she avoid your family because you are a nuisance?” Ágota wrinkles her nose at him.

“You know nothing of her,” Albrecht responds with a defiant tilt of his chin.

“Yes, we do. I negotiated our passage through her land,” Ágota replies.

Albrecht’s shoulders sag. “Oh.”

“So you have not met her have you?” ?

?gota climbs off the bed to stand in front of him. They are nearly the same height, but Ágota makes a point to take advantage of the slight difference to look down at him. I suspect that beneath her skirt she’s on her toes.

“No, not yet. I will when I am older.”