Chapter Text
“I want to at least know what she's called.” You argued, Salem following after you, meowing in obvious disapproval. You ignored him and simply kept walking.
“Nothing will happen, now either come with me and keep quiet or stay here.”
You could almost see him think but eventually he seemed to think you needed protection and so he followed you in silence.
As soon as the trees lessened and the leaves trimmed, the Manor came into view. It still took your breath away, even if you had seen it before. It truly did look like someone had pulled it right out of a story. Beautiful and yet a little haunted. As if it hadn't seen life in a long time, hadn't heard laughter or music, hadn't been filled with the smell of a freshly baked pie for so long that it had forgotten all warmth in this world.
You had only managed to walk up half the driveway before the door flew open and a very annoyed looking woman strode out, heels clacking on each step of the stairs as she came closer. Salem stopped a few feet behind you, out of sight but always ready to protect you.
“You are either enormously stupid or have no will to live.” She bellowed across the yard and despite the volume of her words it still sounded perfectly put together. How did she manage that? You stopped walking.
“You are trespassing and I will not tolerate it any longer.” Before you could even open your mouth a wind rushed past you and suddenly the vampire was not where it had been and an ice cold hand pressed against your neck. Okay, super speed. Yeah, totally cool.
“Either you finally learn your lesson or I'll make you forget all about this place and the fact that you ever came here. You can go back to where you came from and be ridiculously happy there. Not here.” Her mouth was so close to your ear that you thought you would need to be able to feel her breath in your skin but then you realised that no, she was dead and did not breathe anymore. The realisation spooked you a bit. So much that you nearly missed what she suggested with her words.
“You can do mindcontrol.” You said, trying to turn your head so much that you would be able to glance at her. But her grip was too strong. “Not even the most powerful witches can manage that.”
“Well, witchcraft seems to not be everything.” God, how had you ever missed the disdain in her voice? The pure hatred she carried for your kind?
“Will you tell me your name, at least?” Nails scratched along your skin, fingertips pressed into the hollow of your throat and you could have sworn you almost felt lips drag along your flesh. Suddenly she recoiled from you.
For one confusing heartbeat, you almost regretted that she pulled away. The thought horrified you the instant it appeared. Taking a deep breath of air, you turned and looked at her.
Beneath the hate in her eyes you also saw want, deep and pure and old. The touch on your neck, the scratch of nails had not only felt predatory or intimidating, it had felt like playing, like enjoyment.
The realisation crept up on you with every second that you looked at her, with every lick of her lips. She liked this. Not the blood alone – but the chase, the fear, the game of it. And somehow, despite the fact that it should be in her nature, she hated that part of herself. She had so adamantly insisted on drinking animal blood, never human blood. Why? Because she was ashamed of ever having done that. She hated how easily killing had always come to her. But this? The Nails scratching along your skin where she could bite you and drink you empty, this was a sign of pleasure. Killing had never only been a source of food for her, and she despised herself for that. Despised how thrilling it felt. Despised killing innocent humans. You found an ambivalence in her that you hadn't ever expected to find in a vampire.
“I'm not like those witches who killed your kind. That was long before my time.” You said and swallowed hard. She scoffed.
“I'm sure witches have suddenly evolved into loving and peaceful beings. You cannot deny what is in you.” Katherine’s features hardened in a way that showed you that this was not a momentary thing, nor a personal hatred. It was centuries-old bitterness finally finding a voice to express itself.
“You thrive on darkness. Your magic is sick and evil. It always has been and that will never change. So don't tell me that you are different. Don't tell me that you find no pleasure in that darkness, like all the witches that came before you.”
“And you don't?” You shot back, stepping closer to her. “We are not so different. Of course I thrive on darkness. All supernatural beings do, nothing about us is right. We're all wrong and…and twisted. But by your logic we should all be judged and ostracised. But hasn't that happened enough? Haven't enough of us died out of fear of each other? Shouldn't we judge each other on what we do with that darkness in us instead of the fact that it exists?”
She looked, only for a moment, almost startled.
“So what? You want me to suddenly trust you, a being whose kind have only ever brought me death and misery because you, what? Because you bake apple pie in the forest and sing songs? I think not.” She replied, anger sparkling in her eyes, in every turn of her body. You weren't sure if this would help, if this could go anywhere. But you weren't you if you didn't at least try.
“No, but because I heal. I use my magic for good."
“Like that will erase all the bad.”
“Well, at least I try!” You huffed, throwing your hands in the air. This was useless.
“I would like to be friends with you. I think we have a lot in common. I know witches haven't always acted noble and good. But I'm trying to do better. I hope that can be enough for you.” With those words you turned around, heading straight for the forest. You obviously weren't welcome here, you had finally understood that. And you wouldn't stay where you weren't welcome.
“Katherine.” You had just arrived at the edge of the forest, ready to vanish inside when her voice sounded over the yard. Softer this time. You turned, just a hint.
“What?”
“My name.” And with that she vanished inside the Manor. That might have been the tiniest, most miserable olive branch you had ever seen.
Your words haunted Katherine.
And you don't?
Of course not. Katherine didn't find pleasure in her curse, in the darkness inside of her. She knew deep down that she was lying to herself. She had once enjoyed the darkness. Had liked it, had almost craved it.
But, no. That was behind her. What had happened today had been a…a momentary lapse. You brought out a rush of annoyance and anger in her that she hadn't felt in a long time. Though, if she was truthful she simply hadn't talked to anyone long enough to even give them a chance to evoke it in her.
Your words haunted her. Because she knew they were true and she had felt it. But oh, she so wished they weren't. And she so wished she could simply forget what had happened today, what she had felt when she had heard your blood rush through your veins and had almost smelled it in your neck. It had been a long time since her fangs had itched quite so much.
No, she would not kill. Never again. So instead she gardened.
Never in her long life had Katherine pruned roses quite so meticulously or repotted so many plants that really, truly did not need repotting. Anything to keep her from thinking of you. But then she turned to smell the rosemary she had always loved so much and saw the sage in the corner of her eye. Immediately you filled her mind again, the smell of your blood, the feel of your skin and all she could do was curse herself and the thrill inside of her and turn away.
She scrubbed the stubborn remaining dirt from beneath her fingernails long after the gardening was finished, but she could still remember the warmth of your throat beneath them. Or your words, that for whatever reason, wouldn't leave her mind.
We're not so different.
Not even her garden helped anymore.