Chapter Text
It's the metallic smell of blood that catches her attention. The late autumn air is cool, the ground bearing the results of the first snowfall of the year. Large flakes are still falling. The backroad she's wandering isn't even paved, let alone lit. It's quiet. Empty.
Or so Nat thought.
Curious, she follows her nose off the road into the woods. The blood is human, she's certain of it. The notes of panic, of fear, are strong—Nat walks quicker. Her mouth waters as the scent grows stronger; she's getting close.
Nat pauses. The scent is beginning to turn, a sourness, a tartness begins to overwhelm the flavour. That's…not good. She breaks through to where the trees have grown a little sparser to find a young woman, dressed only in a white nightgown, bleeding out in the snow from a gash in her neck. Blood is smeared across her lips.
She's died, Nat observes. There's nothing she can do to change her fate. But she can still help.
Dragging her back to the cabin isn't particularly difficult, but the trail of blood is alarming; whatever did this to the woman is not something Nat is interested in meeting tonight. She hopes the snow keeps falling to at least make their route a little more difficult to find until she can come back out and deal with it.
It takes nearly an hour and half, but, to her relief, the familiar landscape around the cabin finally comes into view. Nat leans the woman's body against the wall of the porch and collects some water and some clothes from inside. She takes a moment to study the woman. Aside from the wounds from her initial assessment, she finds some scratches and bruising along her wrists. Nat wipes the blood from the laceration in her neck—it's already begun to clot and coagulate, the smell turning more sour by the minute. She has a few hours, maybe until morning if they're lucky.
Her long dark hair is sticky with her own blood, but dealing with that will have to wait. Nat wraps the woman's neck with a cloth and wets another one before gingerly running it along her mouth. An ache clenches her heart accompanied by a pang of pity. She doesn't know her, but this person didn't deserve what happened. What's about to happen.
Inside, she lays the woman down in the bedroom and digs through the closet to open a small chest, where she finds an old pair of shackles and a vial of dried vervain. Nat feels guilty for restraining the stranger but she knows its for the best—it's the only option, at least for now.
After steeping the herb in hot water, she holds the woman's chin and slowly dribbles it into her mouth. This should keep her complacent until Nat gets back.
She pulls the strap of her shotgun over her shoulder and heads back out into the wilderness. It's time for a hunt.
"Help!"
Nat's footsteps quicken. She took longer in the woods than she thought she'd have to, prey was scarce. Dawn was approaching rapidly, as was what was waiting for her back at the cabin. Hopefully, the traps she set for tonight would be enough.
She bursts in the door.
"Hello? I'm in here!" A weak voice calls out from the bedroom. Good, Nat thinks. She's still restrained.
She doesn't respond yet, instead depositing the two live rabbits she managed to ensnare into a makeshift cage. It's small and dusty, not a suitable environment in the slightest, but they wouldn't need it for long. Nat brews more of the vervain tea and removes the outer layer of her clothing. She considers starting a fire, but the cabin is bound to heat up once the sun truly rises. Nat pulls the curtains closed before tentatively entering the bedroom.
The woman's eyes are wide, panicked and with tracks of fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. She's pulling at the arm shackled to the bed with all the strength she can muster, though thankfully, it's not much. Not yet, anyways.
"W-who are you?" she says, ceasing her attempts to escape when she realizes Nat isn't coming to release her. When she realizes Nat is her captor.
Nat raises her hands in front of her to show her empty hands.
"My name is Natalie," she introduces herself slowly, cautiously approaching the window. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The woman's eyes narrow. "Bullshit," she spits. "Let me go."
Nat draws the curtains closed.
"I will. I can't yet, but I will. I promise," she says.
"What did you do to me," the woman's voice cracks as more tears begin to spill from her eyes. Nat doesn't think she even notices.
"Nothing, I swear. I found you in the woods," she says and sits on the floor out of the stranger's reach. "Listen, there's-"
"Shut the fuck up," she interrupts, pulling at the shackles again. Nat is taken aback, though she shouldn't be, she reasons afterwards. It's probably starting. She sighs.
"Please, this is important. You're not going to be…you for a little while."
"You're crazy. You're fucking crazy," the woman shakes her head. "What did you do to me? Why is it so hard to move?"
"I gave you a tea that will make you weaker. It will wear off, but I'll have to give you more soon," Nat explains apologetically. She despises the feeling of vervain in her own system. At smaller doses it works as a sedative but it's still a poison.
The woman pulls a face and begins muttering under her breath. "Fucking crazy lady in the fucking crazy woods."
A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of Nat's lips. "I hate to break it to you, but it's about to get crazier."
Her captive sighs heavily and lays still, turning her head to look at Nat quizzically. She's tired, that's evident (dying is quite trying, let alone what's about to happen), but there's a fire still present in her eyes, though dimmed. Nat takes the opportunity to continue.
"Okay, so. You…died. You're dead," she says. Not sugar coating it is probably for the best.
The woman's brows furrow, but she doesn't react beyond that.
"I know. Um, there's more. It's a bit of a good news bad news situation. Or bad news bad news." Damn it, Nat's fucking this up. "You were killed by a creature who performed a…they did something that is going to," she trails off as she considers the language she wants to use.
"It's going to change you. And your life, or unlife, whatever you want to call it," Nat finishes. Disbelief is painted on her guest's face.
"Do you think I'm fucking crazy? Listen, if-if you let me go, I won't say shit to anyone. You can live your best weird life out here and I'll just go on my merry way," the woman bargains.
Nat shakes her head. "Based on how I found you, the change is about to start soon. It will be uncomfortable. Painful. It will end if we do it right, though."
"Look, I know you believe this. But I-I have to go, I don't want to live in your German fairytale," she pleads. Nat chews her lip thoughtfully.
"Where do you have to be?" she finally asks, looking at her guest expectantly.
"I-I, uh." Nat can see the gears turning in the woman's head, grasping at smoke, before snapping, "Like I'm going to tell you anything."
"You can't remember because your body is shedding your previous life. The memories can come back, they usually do, but we have to do this right and it's going to be more difficult for you because your," Nat pauses unsure how throwing out words like sire would go over right now. "Well, the creature that did this to you isn't here to guide you through it," she tries to explain.
The woman kicks the blanket at the foot of the bed up to her unshackled hand where she balls it up to toss at Nat. It clears nearly half the distance between them before it falls pathetically to the floor.
"Fucking crazy," she says, glaring. "You expect me to believe a fucking, I don't know, werewolf took a chunk out of-"
"A vampire, actually," Nat clarifies.
She's met with a bewildered stare from the other woman. She blinks at Nat. Twice.
"Tie up some other bitch and read her Anne Rice!" she yells, straining at the shackles again. Nat takes a deep breath through her nose and releases out of her mouth. She can do this.
"It's going to feel like a fever at first. Your coherent thoughts are going to fall away until there's only one left," Nat warns. "Some people describe it as a hunger, or a thirst. It's both and kind of neither. It's going to consume you until there's nothing you wouldn't do to sate it. That's why I can't let you go yet."
"Oh my God, I got kidnapped by a crazy blood drinking lady. I've seen those specials, you know," the woman says, she's actually rolling her eyes at Nat right now.
Nat presses her lips together before raising the top one, giving her guest a clear view of her extending her canines.
"What the fuck." Something flickers in her eyes. They're running out of time.
"Look at me. Things are about to get fucked up. Do you have a name?" Nat asks.
"C'mon, this isn't funny, just let me go. Please," she begs. Beads of sweat are beginning to form on her forehead.
"I'm going to help you through this, I promise. I'll keep you safe and I'll keep anyone else safe from you too," Nat scooches closer to the bed, reaching for the stranger's hand. "You'll be mostly sedated with the vervain tea and I'll bring fresh blood to keep the bloodlust from taking root too deeply. I'll be here the whole time."
Her eyes dart around the room and land on Nat's. She nods. "I can already feel it, I think. In my teeth," she whispers.
"I know." Nat squeezes her hand.
"Mari," she says between increasingly strained breaths, "I'm Mari."
"It's nice to meet you, Mari," Nat says and offers a half smile that quickly falls. "I'm so, so sorry."
She gets up to retrieve the steeping vervain tea from the kitchen and when she returns, Mari is already in the throes of her turning.
It's hard to watch. Mari has bouts of conciousness, of knowing just how much pain she's in before her mind fades away and a feral creature takes her place, writhing and gnashing—she can undoubtedly smell the rabbits' blood in the next room over.
Nat alternates feeding her vervain tea and blood drained from freshly slaughtering one of the rabbits. It's not enough—not only does the transition demand more (and human blood at that), but Nat herself needs to drink, even if it's in smaller quantities. She's going to need help.
After another dose of vervain, Nat pulls out a sachet of herbs she keeps tucked away in a drawer and lights a fire. It's got to be mid-morning by now, there's cracks of sunlight breaching the curtains but not nearly enough to do either of them any harm.
Nat sprinkles the herb over the flames, watching them flicker and crackle as the rising smoke changes colour to an unnatural earthy green. They should have company soon.
Mari is aware again when she returns to the bedroom. The poor girl is drenched in sweat, her jaw clenched, but some of the fog has lifted.
"I need more," she pleads. "Natalie, please. I can't-this is too much."
"You're doing great." Nat kneels beside the bed and uses a cloth to wipe the sweat from her brow. Concern wriggles in her stomach—they have maybe a day to get Mari fed for real.
Nat hasn't been present for many turnings and she's never been a guide, a role usually reserved for the sire, but she's aware of the damage that can be done if someone hasn't properly sated their bloodlust. There's ways around it, of course, large animals will often be successful in curbing a new vampire from being drawn to the depths of permanent feral thirst. Human blood is the best, however, and Nat doesn't have any on hand. Nor humans.
She might have luck tonight stalking a deer or even a bear, but she doesn't like how often Mari feeds into the feral creature taking over. It shouldn't happen that often, but Nat's heard stories about vampires who are killed violently, traumatically or are left without their sire as they turn. Mari has too many things against her and if she succumbs, well, Nat is going to have to do something about it. She can't risk a feral vampire getting free.
Mari's face crumples into desperate tears and Nat places a hand on the side of her face gently.
"I know." Her own heart aches. "Help is coming though, okay? I've got you. I've got you," she says, running her thumb along Mari's temple.
It's too soon to give her more vervain, they'd be entering dangerous territory and she doesn't have enough of a resistance. Nat's mind races, there has to be something she can do. She wants to save the second rabbit until the evening so she can leave Mari a little longer when she goes to hunt, using it up too soon could fuck them later.
"It hurts." More tears fall from the corners of her eyes as Mari squeezes them shut.
Nat sucks her teeth as resorting to something else crosses her mind. Her mother would skin her alive for even considering it, but it might be the only thing that can buy them the time they need. She makes up her mind and extends her teeth before knicking her index finger. A drop of blood begins to pool.
Mari's eyes fly open, pupils dialated. She licks her lips.
Okay, this might actually work.
"Hey, hey. Focus, look at me," Nat instructs. "Open."
It takes a moment for the words to register, she can see Mari getting lost again, but slowly she seperates her lips. Nat places her finger on her tongue, praying to whatever can hear her that this works.
Nat's never had to turn—she was born like this. Her father was a piece of shit vampire from a no-name coven that got tired of him so he found a spineless bloodbag in a trailer park to leech off of. Nat was the result of their fucked up union.
It must have been quite a shock for him to learn that Vera, his endlessly devoted source of food and finances, came from a rather impressive lineage of witches. Though Vera has no powers herself, Nat's grandmother was fairly renowned in the region and left her cabin in the woods to her only grandchild.
Unfortunately, Nat's unable to access her ancestors' powers due to her vampirism but her blood…her blood might be just distinct enough from a regular vampire's to sate Mari just enough. It wouldn't be the first time a vampire fed from a witch.
Mari's eyebrows furrow and her eyes flutter as the blood spreads across her tongue. She closes her lips around Nat's finger and brings her free hand to hold hers in place.
"Sorry I didn't offer sooner," Nat presses her finger further into Mari's tongue, who begins to lick at the pad to try and stimulate more blood flow. "This is-well, it shouldn't really work. Plus it's kind of taboo for vampires to drink from each other."
Nothing she says is getting through to Mari, who is now singularly focused on drawing as much blood as possible from her, Nat realizes.
A knock at the door interrupts them and Mari's eyes fly open.
"I'll be right back," Nat promises, pulling her hand back. Mari's grip tightens.
"No," she pouts, mouth still around Nat's finger.
"It's okay, I'll be back. Someone's here to help us," Nat says and she's able to separate them. Mari let's out a full on whine before crinkling her nose and sniffing the air.
"What is that?"
She smiles down at Mari. "That's our guest."
Nat grabs the shotgun before stepping out onto the porch. At this time of day the sun can't reach her and she's not about to invite anyone inside right now.
A man is sitting on her wooden bench inspecting his crossbow. Nat is a little disappointed, she'd hoped her signal would have been noticed by another member of the pack—maybe the one in the hat.
"Kodi," she greets, holding the shotgun a little more intentionally.
He looks up at her with a smile that doesn't set her at ease. Par for the course, she thinks.
Kodiak is a lone wolf in the most literal sense of the word. She's never heard the story behind his scars but there's no doubt they were from some pack conflict where he was inevitably ostracized and wandered until he found himself in her grandmother's neighbourhood here in the depths of the woods. Because of the wards she'd placed in the region protecting the area from humans, he decided to stay.
To her surprise, recently his pack has begun to grow. Again, she hasn't asked. They aren't friends, though they aren't enemies like most stories about werewolves and vampires would have you believe. Nat thinks Kodiak has some holdover respect for her grandmother which is the only reason they occaisionally trade together or bring something back from town for one another. But there isn't trust.
"You rang?" he raises an eyebrow.
"I need your help with," Nat glances towards the door, "something."
"I gathered. How may I be of service?" Kodiak flourishes with his wrist, lowering his head in mock reverence.
"I need Lottie."
Kodiak grimaces. "I'm not welcome at the compound. Not to mention it's a bit of a far hike, you even got time?"
"If you leave right away," Nat urges. "Or send one of your new pups," she adds derisively. Kodiak's eyes narrow.
"Fine," he says, standing. He towers over her. "But I want four bottles of the good stuff next time you're in town."
"Deal," she agrees quickly. He shakes his head.
"Is it even worth it? Why not just put it out of it's misery?" Nat grips the gun, pursing her lips.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," she grits out. When Kodiak steps off the porch, she calls after him.
"She was murdered," Nat warns, "I didn't see who did it but it was-"
"One of you," Kodiak finishes.
"Let the compound know. And be careful," she adds. Kodiak replies by tossing an arm up behind him as he walks away.
It's going to be okay. Lottie's on the way.
The afternoon drags. It becomes apparent that while Nat's own blood is more palatable than the average vampire's, it's nowhere near as potent as it needs to be to keep Mari's bloodlust at bay.
"Do you want to try feeding on something living?" She asks the next time Mari is lucid.
"You don't count?" Mari says with a weak chuckle, looking more pallid by the hour. The well of her desire for blood must run deep—deeper than Nat's seen before.
"I don't," she offers a rueful smile in return, "but I thought we could try the rabbit before I go out hunting."
Mari pulls herself up into a sitting position with some effort while Nat retrieves the rabbit from the pantry.
"Sorry, buddy," she says quietly while gripping it's scruff and lifting it into her arms. Drinking right from the vein is best whether it's from an adorable woodland creature or a human—hopefully this will do the job for a few hours.
Before she even returns to the bedroom, Nat can hear Mari rattling the chain but she's surprised to see her standing with one foot off the bed leaning towards the doorway. Her eyes are wide with an unsettling hunger trained solely on the rabbit as her mouth hangs open, fangs already extended.
"Could you sit?" Nat asks with some hestiation and watching Mari carefully. Suddenly this doesn't feel like such a good idea—it could be too soon.
Mari takes a step backwards without taking her eyes off the rabbit, lowering herself once her calf hits the bed until she's seated. She runs her tongue along her bottom lip before tracing her fangs.
"Mari, are you with me?" Nat asks gently.
Mari blinks and creases her brow before nodding slowly.
"It's going to be overwhelming when you sink your teeth in but I need you to focus on me and my voice, okay?" she says with trepidation. "And you're going to feel compelled to keep going until the rabbit is run dry but you have to hold yourself back—you have to stop on your own before then. We need to start curbing the intensity of the thirst and cultivating your control is a huge part of that. Got it?"
"Yes," she hisses through her teeth, visibly restratining herself from leaping towards them.
"Repeat it back to me," Nat instructs.
"Drink." The corner of Mari's lip twitches in annoyance. "Then stop."
Nat approaches her slowly and sits beside her on the bed. Mari moves to lurch towards the rabbit but Nat pulls it away so she waits impatiently as the squirming creature is lifted to her lips.
Mari's eyes roll to the back of her head the moment the fresh blood touches her tongue—Nat almost feels like she's observing a private moment, a deeply spiritual experience coursing through her body as the blood becomes hers.
Nat can tell she's torn the animal's neck open too far by the way blood dribbles from the corners of her mouth, but there will be time for finesse later. She gives Mari another moment when she raises her hands to hold the rabbit before placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Mari, it's time to stop. Think you can try?" Mari's response is a growl, not even bothering to look at Nat.
Instead she redoubles her intention to keep drinking, pushing her fangs deeper into the body of the rabbit, tearing carelessly. A bone cracks under the force and a new artery is severed causing streak of blood to pulse, splashing Nat across her face followed by viscera once Mari pulls its head from the body.
Nat bares her own teeth and hisses, hoping the inate hierarchical nature inside Mari will recognize her as a trueborn vampire and therefore, a superior. She can't tell if it works, the witch blood muddies things like this and Nat doesn't buy into the rigid structure, but Mari looks at her out of the corner of her eyes.
"It's time to stop," she repeats firmly.
To her surprise, Mari does. Breathing heavily, she lets what remains of the rabbit slip out of her hands to the floor before turning them over, studying them now caked in blood and fur and guts. Her eyes flick up to meet Nat's and before she can react, a hand is curled around her neck, pulling her close to Mari's face.
She winces as Mari runs her bloody tongue from her chin, across her lips and over her cheek. Nat pulls back—Mari is looking at her, panting and hungry.
Okay. So control is a work in progress, but she can stop. Mostly.
The night air is crisp and clear; though the snow has already melted, it's cool enough that that ground is hard and the leaves under Nat's boots offer a satisfying frozen crunch with every step.
She's been tracking a bear for the last hour. It's ambitious and almost feels wasteful as she won't be able to drag the dead carcass back on her own, but she has several jars carefully tucked into her pack, wrapped in old cloths, to collect the blood of any creature too large to bring back to the cabin. If she's lucky, she'll come across another live rabbit to bring back.
The wind shifts—there's the scent of another predator hanging in the air, raising the hackles on Nat's neck. She can't get a clear whiff, it's too faint as it dances through the trees, but if she had to put money down that it's one of Kodiak's pups she would.
Nat turns her attention back to hunting the bear. She's positioned herself downwind of where she's done her best to predict it's heading based on it's path, making sure her back is to a ridge and another creature can't get the jump on her as she waits for the bear to pass through the clearing she's chosen to wait for it.
It takes longer than she thought—Nat begins second guessing whether this is the best use of her limited time—when a majestic black bear saunters through with moonlight reflecting off of its glossy fur. She takes aim and fires into its shoulder.
The bear falls to the ground, writhing and scrambling as Nat tries to secure her second shot, but it takes took long. The bear is back on its feet and tearing off through the brush.
"Fuck." Nat stands and pursues it. The bear's scent is quickly waning and the way its blood splattered at the gunshot means the smell of it behind her is getting confused with the injured creature ahead. "Fuck," she repeats.
Bears rarely leave a trail of blood as it congeals and gets caught in their fur and despite being injured, they still move fast as fuck. Nat's heart sinks—she should have focused on smaller game, if she can't bring something back…the consquences for Mari could be disastrous.
Tearing through the trees, Nat sends a prayer out to the wilderness that she can find the bear again in time.
She doesn't.
The bear is slumped in front of a stump with an arrow sticking out of it's shoulder, blood oozing from the—shit.
Nat drops to her knees in front of the bear to frantically pull out the jars from her pack—fuck, one of them is broken—along with her knife. She draws the blade along its neck, holding the jar below to collect as much of the blood as she can.
As she's doing this, she's aware she's not alone.
"Help me with this," she instructs, nodding to the other intact jar, "I need the lid off. Quickly."
The figure drops Kodiak's crossbow and fumbles with unscrewing the lid but manages to pass it to her with a dirty hand just as the first one is almost filled.
"Do you have anything else we can use?"
The girl from Kodiak's fledgling pack shakes her head, dirty blonde braids shaking. Despite it being the middle of the night, she's still wearing the pink baseball cap Nat has come to associate with her.
A canteen appears over Nat's shoulder.
"Here."
"Thanks," she mutters and pours out the contents before holding it under the bear's neck as well. The liquid she poured out wasn't water, but she can't identify the smell of the herbs used in whatever concoction was in there.
She can feel eyes boring into the back of her head.
Nat sighs as she sizes up what she's managed to collect. It's…not great, but it will have to do. She carefully ensures that the lids are screwed on tightly before tucking the jars and the canteen into her pack. Finally, she rises to face the others standing with her in the woods.
The girl looks uncertain and guarded—she keeps glancing towards the crossbow, but she also seems eager in her assignment. Nat was right. The predator's scent she caught earlier was one of Kodiak's.
"Thank you," she says, avoiding addressing their third party member first.
"Melissa," the girl fills in, despite Nat not leaving a pause for her to do so. She can practically see the girl's tail wagging.
She nods to the werewolf. The silence drags and reluctantly, Nat turns towards the last figure standing with them.
"Hey, Lot."