Elvish Princess

"Well well. This is a rare sight."

Leda squinted into the darkness of the alley. She didn't quite expect to see anything, but felt she should look, just the same.

"What's that dear?" she asked. "An 'old biddy' as they say? I've been hearing that quite a bit lately."

The as yet disembodied voice from the shadows laughed. "Well that too I suppose. But I was referring to seeing someone out at night. All alone. People don't seem to like doing that these days."

"Yes well if you kill enough people in the dark of night, eventually they'll get the hint. Evidence from horror films notwithstanding."

"And yet, here you are."

"Here I are." Leda agreed. "All helpless and alone. It must be a trap I suppose."

There was a pause, and Leda could swear she actually heard the unseen Vampire, for she was sure that's what it was, sniffing the air.

"If it is, it's not the conventional type. You really are alone here, and your appearance isn't a glamour. Have you come looking for release?" Why she almost sounded compassionate.

"Oh that will come soon enough I suppose. But really I just felt I had to come and deal with you. I'm reckless you see."

Suddenly, there she was, pale, dark haired and beautiful. And familiar. Leda's eyes widened with shock. "You!"

The Vampire moved faster than even an Elf could match. She knocked aside the Old Lady's cane and began to feed. She'd barely taken two mouthfulls however when she pulled back suddenly. "Oh death apples!

Something was stalking the streets of Soho after the sun went down. No one had seen anything, no one who lived to tell about it at any rate. But the rumors were flying, and none of them were pleasant. Bodies turning up completely drained of blood were apt to cause such things.

Then one night someone came staggering in to Castle Pup. No one recognized her, and it was some time before they could get anything concrete out of her. She had been attacked, that much was certain. She bore the marks of a chain, and boots.

St. Jimmy immediately sent Turf with Scotty and Prodigal to get medical help (no one went out after dark alone these days), while Surf did what she could to comfort the girls' spirit.

Finally the girl, who called herself What's-Her-Name mumbled out a confused account. She was newly arrived in Bordertown, and had not known who and what to be suspicious of. She had been set upon by a pack of Truebloods who had decided she needed to be "welcomed". And...something, had stopped them. She never got a clear glimpse of her rescuer. They had simply snatched the attackers into the shadows one by one, till their screams scared off the remainder.

Then her memory grew hazy till she found herself in front of Castle Pup.

"Curiouser, and curiouser." Sila muttered.

The ritual had been written so long ago no one knew who had penned it. It had been passed through many Unseelie houses until finally landing in the library of Corwyn. The ritual had in fact, so far as anyone knew, never been tried. It's function was entirely theoretical, having been deemed far too dangerous even by Unseelie standards.

It was similar to, but not quite a resurrection spell. It was far more unnatural than that. Those had to be performed around Samhain anyway, and for what they had in mind, there would be far too much attention.

The bones had been relatively simple to acquire. However fond most mortals were of their superstitions, one could always find men callous and greedy enough to perform even grave robbing. The horror that the community of Salem felt the next day had been an added spice.

The blood though, that was far more complicated. For both practical, and ritualistic purposes, it couldn't come from just anywhere, and it couldn't all come from one place either. It had to be fresh, and it had to be potent. It had to be innocent. And it had to be from certain geological and genealogical sources. That had taken a lot of research, even more money, and required a greater amount of assistance from like minded individuals. The horror felt by those who discovered the crimes later today would be absolutely delicious.

"Bones of the unjustly condemned."

The bones of Salem were arranged as one would a fire pit, atop the burial mound.

"Blood of the Chosen."

The bones were the fuel for the fire, the blood would be the accelerant. It was poured over the remains of the "witches", and then set alight with another ancient spell. It was a misconception that there was no magic on this side of the border. That whatever had existed in this world had dried up after Faerie receded.

But there were signs all over that this simply wasn't true. There was magic here. It simply lay dormant, and it cropped up occasionally in bloodlines. You either had to know where to find the energy, or bring it with you. They had done both.

The bonefire erupted, at the precise moment of the pagan new year. When, theoretically, the weave of time could be, altered. Or in this case, burned. The flames burned through the years, the decades, the centuries, it's consumption directed by the words of the spell. The blood, instead of burning away, stayed fresh, seeping into the ground, towards she who they sought. The bones themselves fossilized.

When the last tibia and tooth became solid stone, the fire died away. And as far as any of the Unseelie on the hill could tell, nothing had happened.

Then a voice spoke up from just behind their leader. "Yous stupid son of a bitch, what did you do?"

She grabbed his hair, yanking his head back and exposing his throat. When she finished with him, she made short work of the fleeing minions. Then taking a deep breath of the odd smelling modern air, she sighed.

Queen Mab of the Unseelie Court, One of the first of the Lankin, the creatures mortals had named Vampires, had returned.

And she was still hungry.