Savoring Life, Savoring Death

Savoring Life, Savoring Death

Zorana knew that this was the highlight of Mrs. Maeve Albury’s week, but they both knew by now to take their time with it. Besides, Zorana would feel weird about taking her double payment without even making an effort to do what she was supposed to be doing.

So just like any other cleaning lady, Zorana let herself into the big country estate with her copy of the master key, popped on her white and mint green -striped apron, and began dusting off the china and the frames of gilded portraits on the long musty corridors. The house was old and dignified, just like its sole resident. Zorana took strange delight in her work, enjoying the feel of treasures and family relics under her fingers, the smell of dust and polished brass. Her family’s old manor back in Czechoslovakia had had smells like this, muted spring light slanting in from tall arched windows, just like this.

No mountains on the horizon, though, Zorana thought as she opened the bedroom window to let the spring breeze in. Here were only rolling hills of fields, meadows and woodlands, thickly overcast by pastel-grey clouds. Zorana only had to squint a little bit. The climate of the Isles had its upsides for those at odds with daylight.

Mrs. Maeve was waiting for her in the garden, at her usual spot. She had her sapphire velvet dress on, long white hair done up by the girl who came in to make her breakfast.

Warmth lapped in between Zorana’s ribs as she leaned on the windowsill, savoring the feel of her own dubious aliveness, the reactions in her body roused by the sight. Even across this distance, it was easy for her to tune in to the rhythm of Maeve’s breathing, her slightly accelerated heart rate, even the fine lingering scent of Bulgarian rose water that she’d often worn since Zorana had complimented it one time. Maeve’s wiry, graceful shoulders were covered by a big black shawl as she gazed at the blooming cherry trees, head tipped, the arch of her pale neck on display perhaps on purpose. Zorana swallowed on instinct, muscles tensing slightly, then relaxing. Her prey wasn’t going anywhere – so, she lingered, taking another grateful moment to appreciate the fleeting moment. Old age had lately begun to look beautiful to her in ways that she’d never grasped as a human. Eager and ready, her symbiont was glowing with anticipation, shifting on the small wicker sofa, gloved hands grasping a forgotten book. Maeve was blazing with muted life, like the floor of a forest thick with a carpet of freshly fallen leaves, gold and orange and yellow like the sun.

Yes. Her Maeve was more beautiful than ever.

She could feel Zorana watching, because of course she did. Maeve turned her bright gaze over and waved, shyly and excitedly like a young girl waiting for a forbidden visitor, mixed with the delightfully conspiratory air of an old lady out on a thrilling forbidden adventure.

Zorana waved back, flashing a wide, glinting smile. ”Good afternoon,” she boomed. ”Should I bring something on my way from the kitchen?” She was glad to see Maeve taking matters of nourishment seriously after realizing its importance, but she still never missed a chance to advocate for a fortifying extra snack.

”No need, just bring yourself.” Mrs. Maeve said, beaming, knowing how Zorana could easily hear her across this distance without her having to raise her voice. ”Never mind the laundry — I’ll have the evening shift take care of it.”

Zorana nodded, her cravings surfacing in full force as she leaped over the railing and landed nimbly beside a swath of primroses. She felt Maeve’s heart titter, her eyes widen in awe. Zorana walked slowly the rest of the way to not startle her too much.

It had been a few days since her last meal, and the nearing gushing thrum of Maeve’s pulse tugged her attention like a siren. They were past pleasantries by now, propriety cast aside by their mutual hunger. Zorana sat down next to her willing prey, picked up her hand, pulling off the glove to reveal the wiry soft flesh underneath. Maeve had already unbuttoned the cuff for her, and Zorana favored her with a gentle predator’s smile, feeling Maeve shiver in anticipation.

Her fangs breached the brook of lifeblood at the back of Maeve’s wrist with ease. Her sweet tang washed over Zorana, filling her mouth and overtaking her senses.

There were bits of Maeve’s memories there, weariness tinged with yearning, a sense of duty, always caring for others. Garden parties and reserved smiles. Her dead husband and the distance between them, speckled by rare moments of tenderness.

Underneath, there was the taste of her lineage, rust of bleak skies, tide waters and conquerors. Linen and barley and apple trees. Stolen bergamot and sugar and cinnamon, and much more.

Denial and frailty, and death.

It all flowed unshackled like a fountain, a cocktail of humanity, a liquid blend of interlaced stories flowing through time. Blood carried so much knowledge.

And when given freely, it opened worlds.

The story of Maeve’s blood transformed when it broke free from her veins — as it nourished Zorana, and as it was witnessed by her beyond-human senses. Their relationship was a transgression to everything Maeve had pursued in life so far. It was a boldness, a liberation — a fracture, shaking the very foundations of everything she’d been taught to believe about the order of things. Maeve Albury had surprised them both by offering herself to Zorana, her dark-eyed East-European cleaning woman, the very moment Zorana had revealed herself to her. No coaxing, no charms nor threats were needed. Only minimal pheromones, and no altering of memories.

But Zorana understood better now, why that was: Maeve was at the end of her life, filled with regrets. In her blood and in her presence, Zorana had seen the tender feelings for a brown-haired girl, buried yet undying in Maeve’s heart. She’d seen her lifetime of quiet suffering while fulfilling other people’s expectations.

She’d also felt the fierce resolve of her ‘no more’, as Maeve, emboldened by their connection, had began to choose things for herself for the first time.

It had all built into this moment. Maeve was forever changed by her newfound doubts and desires, and Zorana was pleased to be her deliverer. She, too, had come to cherish the companionable safety and comfort of their arrangement. She’d overlooked old blood before, like many of her kin. But with Maeve, she’d began to truly savor the depth of taste.

Their connection had changed them both, apparently.

Zorana lapped the puncture wounds until they began to close. She licked her lips clean and studied the heavy delight on her symbiont’s face and her posture, all slack and free from any pain or troubles. She settled beside Maeve on the padded wicker sofa, twining her arms around her.

Maeve’s head lulled to her shoulder. She sighed. ”You are the best medicine, Zorana.” Then, quieter, ”I missed you.”

Tenderness coiled in Zorana’s belly. She took great pleasure in knowing that Maeve needed her, thought of her. She kissed Maeve on her wispy white curls, allowing that to be her answer.

”What did the doctor say?” she asked.

Maeve’s blood was savory also because of the cancer, another thing that contradicted the common practice of drinking from the young and the healthy that Zorana had begun to think as mere enduring superstition among her kind. The illness seemed to work like a seasoning — humans used strange things to spice up their food, too, even toxic things. I was no different. Symbiotically speaking, Zorana had pondered, it made sense that vampires would be attracted to the old and lonely, the society’s vulnerable ones.

Maybe it was an entirely new trait in vampire genetics, well suited for the new capitalistic age that forsake its elders.

”Ah…” Maeve felt weary even thinking about her condition. She straightened up somewhat to look at Zorana, sadness and yearning flitting behind her heavy-lidded eyes. ”Dr. Ravenport said that if I won’t start chemotherapy now, I probably only have a year left, or a few, tops.” She stroked Zorana’s cheek lightly. ”But I don’t really want to go through with it. It seems so ghastly and wretched. Besides, I won’t taste so good to you all laced with radiation, will I?”

”Probably not.” Zorana said softly, leaning into the touch.

She’d thought about this before, but had wanted to wait for Maeve to bring it up first as not to pressure her. Now was the right time. ”If I fed on you more often,” she said. ”it might slow the progression even more than the chemo would.” It was the truth. It wouldn’t revert the damage, at this point — they’d found each other too late for that. But it should, at least, give them a few more years together.

”Move here with me, then?” Maeve asked swiftly, unwilling and unable to hide her eagerness. Then, she caught herself, blushing. ”I mean… it would be easier for you. On sunny days. Unless you have something more important? I understand if…”

Zorana smiled, endeared and satisfied, grasping Maeve’s hands assuringly. ”There’s nothing that can’t wait for a few years.” She had four other symbionts in the city, but she could visit them regularly enough from here. Or she could even, eventually, bring them in o be enjoyed and protected under the same roof. It would be interesting to have them meet each other and live together. And Francis could really use a house with proper heating.

But that was a topic for later. It was important not to flood humans with too many changes all at once.

Now, Maeve’s face a window of happy relief. ”You could paint here,” she enthused. ”We could fit one of the northern rooms to be your studio.”

Zorana let her joy shine through. ”I would love that,” she said. She was a young vampire, still getting her bearings, and money had never interested her beyond the necessary day-to-day survival. Her human origins were of moderate wealth that Zorana hadn’t stuck around to inherit. She’d found that material luxuries meant less and less to her the more years went by — what endured was Art and Love, after all, and the mysteries of the world.

But as she’d lately transitioned to subtler, more mutual ways of hunting, she’d begun to care deeply for her symbionts. She’d begun to resent the fact that she didn’t have much to offer them in the way of material security. Maybe this was an opportunity to turn things around. ”But, uh… honestly,” Zorana continued wistfully, ”I don’t think I can afford to pay you enough for rooms in a fancy place as this.” She glanced back at the estate.

As expected, Maeve’s eyes blew wide, and she smacked Zorana’s arm lightly. ”Nonsense,” Maeve declared. ”Your presence is payment enough.”

She leaned in confidentially, eyes averted. ”Your… you’ve given this old lady something I didn’t know I could still experience in this life. If you are there to ease my remaining years, that’s all I could hope for. And maybe…” Her washed out blue eyes turned to Zorana, determined. ”When it becomes too much, we could find a way to ease my passage. I don’t want to wither away in horrible pain, drugged out of my senses.”

Zorana studied her, and found herself swayed immediately. Maeve had clearly given this some proper thought. That was good — she was choosing this for herself, not out of a desire to please anyone. Zorana was proud of her.

She cupped her hands in her own. ”I hear you,” she brushed a kiss over her knuckles. ”And I want to help.”

She kept watching Maeve’s face, searching her for something that she wasn’t asking, but might. Would, perhaps, eventually. A topic they’d have to discuss.

”You know that there’s another option,” she said, a matter of fact.

Maeve laughed, slow and weary. ”I’m honored, but I don’t think I have it in me to live in the shadows like you do, my dear,” she said good-naturedly. ”I think being old forever might be too harsh a sentence even for an old harp like me.”

Zorana frowned a bit, but was actually relieved to hear that. Keeping someone as your symbiont and turning them to your newborn kin were worlds apart, and she didn’t feel remotely willing to take the latter path with Maeve. It probably wouldn’t feel right with anyone for quite some time. Zorana was too young for that, only learning herself how to live, how to manage things. It was good to find out that Maeve agreed for her own reasons.

”Alright, then.” Zorana inched closer. ”I’ll be your angel of death if that’s what you wish, my Maeve,” she said with a half-smile. ”Until then, we’ll be partners in life.” She nuzzled the soft hairs of her temple, breathing in her symbiont’s joy, her relief, her excitement. Her love.

It felt amazing. Almost as good and heady as the blood.

”Yes,” Maeve whispered, voice breaking with emotion.