Chapter 2: Puggled
Wed, 4 Oct 2034
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Wed, 4 Oct 2034
The rain outside was thin but persistent. The temperature at sunset had plummeted to three degrees above freezing, but the library was warm enough for people to shed their outer layers. After hours of studying, Skye decided to leave; she wrapped herself up, pulling on a jumper, coat, scarf, and gloves. She stuffed her study pad – which contained class notes and thousands of pages worth of (pirated) textbooks – into her backpack. She pulled up the hood of her coat as she ventured out of the library.
The droplets picked up slightly. The clouds were a sallow shade of peach. She darted into an arriving bus, scanning herself in with her phone.
She was home soon enough. Her flat was affordable, partly because of the dodgy location, but also because the building was the epitome of the function-over-beauty aesthetic that had taken over Glamis during the nineties. The shower even lacked a P-trap, which meant the bathroom eternally smelt of drainage.
But the rest of the flat didn’t smell bad. Or, rather, it wasn’t supposed to. Yet, when Skye entered, she was hit with a pungent odour. Grimacing and pulling her scarf up, she peaked into the kitchen to investigate. There, clumpy, orange vomit pooled on the plastic table.
“Ew! What the fuck?” Skye recoiled. She stalked down the hallway. “Aimee! Aimee, did you or your boyfriend chunder in the fucking kitchen?!”
Aimee’s door was ajar. She lay sprawled, face-up on her bed, hugging a pillow. Her usually silky black hair was in knots, and she was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt.
Skye entered, dropping her backpack by the door and stepping over a pile of vomit-stained clothes on the floor.
“Aimee?” She pulled the pillow away. Aimee rolled onto one side. “Aimee, wake up.”
All Skye got was a grumble.
“Bloody Hell.” Skye plucked off her gloves and scarf and knelt by the bed. Aimee’s breathing was shallow and slow. Her face was bloated, lips puckered like a fish’s, spit dribbling onto the fitted bedsheet. A funny face for some, maybe. But Skye was growing concerned. She got out her phone.
“Aimee, I’m calling 999.”
“No,” Aimee whined groggily. Her hands reached out to limply slap at Skye’s shoulders.
“Alright, then 111.”
“Don’t. Appa. Eomma.”
Skye had watched enough K-dramas in her teens to know that those words meant ‘dad’ and ‘mum’ in Korean. “You want me to call your parents?”
Aimee’s protesting became louder, almost frantic, “No one.”
Skye’s brows furrowed. “You don’t want them to find out, then?”
Aimee mumbled something and buried her face into the pillow.
Skye released a loud exhale. “Bloody-fucking-Hell, Aimee. I got to get you some help.”
“No!” Aimee pleaded. Her eyes opened, shining with fresh tears. “No, no!”
Skye cursed under her breath. Maybe I’m being paranoid. She’s responsive, she’s probably fine. “OK. But next time you end up like this, I will call emergency services.”
“No one!”
“I said I won’t. Jesus.”
Skye left, gathering her belongings as she did. She headed to her bedroom, depositing her items by her bed before beginning to pace. Leaving Aimee in that state did not feel right. She was technically a first-year student – she had to redo her year, so one could argue otherwise – so this type of behaviour was not out of the norm. In all likelihood, Aimee would be fine. Yet worry nagged at the back of Skye’s mind. What if she isn’t OK? And I just left her like that?
When Skye had begun her delivery job, Cathy had mentioned that she started the blood rationing system through her knowledge of healthcare, as she was once a nurse.
I could ask Cathy for help.
Skye searched her contacts for Cathy. She hesitated, glancing at the window. It was dark out. So, she called Cathy.
“Hello?” the vampire sounded a little sleepy.
“Cathy, sorry for the call. It’s just…” Skye trailed off. Belatedly, she worried if this might annoy Cathy and, in turn, put her job as familiar at risk.
Cathy’s tone was gentle but insistent. “Skye, what’s the matter?”
“You were a nurse, right?”
“Yes.”
“Like, you’ve dealt with alcohol poisoning?”
“Yes, of course.”
“My new flatmate is really drunk. She threw up in the kitchen, and is breathing weakly.”
“Call emergencies.”
“She practically screamed at me not to. Said something about her parents…”
“Oh, dear.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s OK. Just… can you come make sure? I don’t want something bad to happen. But I also don’t want her to get into shit with her parents, I don’t know her situation.”
“The hospital may not even tell her parents. I haven’t been in the system recently, but she’s an adult, and if it’s not serious–”
Skye’s voice splintered against her will. “Cathy, please.”
Cathy paused for a moment. “You make sure she’s on her side. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Alright?”
Relief hugged Skye. “OK. I’ll send through a pin. Thank you.” She ended the call and went back to hover by Aimee’s doorway, watching to make sure she stayed laying on her side.
Skye had never been a big drinker and had avoided flatting with people eager to get intoxicated. She’d given Aimee a chance purely because the last flatmate abruptly dropped out before the new term. It was only a month into them flatting together, and Skye was already regretting having Aimee here.
Cathy arrived promptly. Her hair was bunched up in a messy bun and her face was bare of makeup. It was the first time Skye had seen her so underdressed. The vampire still wore her signature choker, though – a golden pendant with sapphires shaped into a star hanging on black frill.
While Cathy checked on Aimee, Skye went to clean up the vomit on the kitchen table. She tied a scarf around the lower half of her face, but the smell and sight remained repulsive. It took everything for Skye to not heave up her lunch.
Cathy stepped in. “She’s very intoxicated, but she’ll be fine.” Without hesitation, she joined in the cleaning.
“Cathy, no,” Skye said. “This must reek for you, especially.”
“Then we better clean it up quick.”
Once the kitchen smelt only of bleach, Skye finally felt some ease. She looked to her mentor and smiled apologetically. “Thanks, Cathy. Sorry for making you come here.”
Cathy gave Skye a soft smile. “I came here of my own volition. Besides, I think this speaks good of your character. Most people wouldn’t care. But, if you want to make up for it, perhaps we can have some tea?”
“Oh – yeah, sure. I’ll bring it to the living room.”
“Perfect.” Cathy pivoted in her sneakers, gliding out. “No sugar!”
As the kettle boiled, Skye checked her phone. Nixie had shot her a text, ‘you performing Fri?’
Skye smiled and replied, ‘Yeah, be at mine at 6 and we can head out together?’
An immediate response, ‘YAY! YES!’
Once the tea was ready, Skye entered the living room and set the cup on the side table closest to Cathy. The furnishings were a mismatch of styles and eras, all thrifted and all weathered beyond being charmingly vintage. They were just old and cheap.
“Thank you, love.” Cathy’s long nails played with her choker. The vampire studied Skye’s expression for a few moments. “I won’t overstay my welcome. I promised that I would explain… well, our most recent addition to the Glamis community. While I’m here, I can do that.”
Skye sat on the edge of the couch with her hands clasped over her knees. “Ceana?”
Cathy nodded. “She’s a second generation Enchanter. Early generation vampires tend to rattle me. Even more so when they show up unannounced.”
“She introduced herself as if I’d know her,” Skye mused. “Why? Is she famous?”
“In a sense. Her story has leaked out into folklore humans tell.” Cathy took a slow sip of her tea before she continued. “‘Dearg-Due’ means ‘red bloodsucker’, I believe in reference to her hair. The story goes that she was a young lady who, despite loving a peasant boy, was married to the cruel chieftain of her village. Ceana died – the humans say from his abuse, or by suicide, but we vampires know that the First turned her. She arose a fortnight later and began picking off the villagers, one by one, until her bloodthirst was sated.”
Skye’s eyes widened as the story went on. “Wow.”
Cathy smiled ruefully. “That’s the myth, anyway. Only she knows the whole truth. Anyway, humans believe that piling rocks on her grave kept her under the earth, but clearly that isn’t true. So, take what I say with a grain of salt.”
Skye thought back on how unassuming Ceana had looked. Her clothes, her small stature… the only overtly unsettling thing were her eyes. With this context, Skye better understood Cathy’s reaction. “Is she… dangerous?”
Cathy’s nose crunched up. “Well, a docile viper is still dangerous, isn’t it?” She reinstated her composure. “Inge said that Ceana will be no trouble, and she has the final say on who can and cannot be in Scotland. Far as I know, she’s not caused a massacre in the thirteen hundred years since her turning, so I s’pose I might be too wary. But… do let me know if she makes you feel on edge.”
Thirteen hundred years? Skye knew Inge was around a thousand years old, and that was already unfathomable. “OK. Thanks.”
Cathy finished off her tea. “Well, I best head off, and you best get some sleep. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yeah. Monday.” Skye stood up. “Thanks, again, for coming here. I know I overreacted, but…”
Cathy raised a hand and spoke softly, “Love, don’t berate yourself for caring.”