13 October, 1837
Journal, I pray that these pages don’t make it past my own eyes. It has been about two weeks since that day…that horrid, wretched day. Mabel has not been out of her room since our return, claiming she feels “unwell.” Richard has scolded me for fretting, proclaiming that we just let “the devil do his work on her.” That my own sister, has sold her soul away. Yet still, my mind begs and pleads with me to check on her, to make sure that she has not been taken by the Reaper. Yet, my journal, you have no idea of what I am referring to. Of that day. I believe I shall start at the beginning.
My sister, Mabel, has always been rather…odd. To say it kindly, she much rather prefers her own company to that of the many aristocrats who frequent our home. She has shown no interest in the many men who have courted for her affections. Richard, my fiancé, originally was courting her before he turned his attention towards me. I, of course, cannot resist his…charms, so to speak. And he does have charms, believe me! They’re just…very well hidden until you get to know him. Sometimes it feels as though I still don’t know him. Be that as it may, he claims that there is something wrong with Mabel. And I have always denied these claims. I love her regardless of her oddities.
Anyhow, when my sister returned from a gala in Dublin, she described a new friend she had met, one by the name of Madame Priscilla. The two since that day have been writing letters to each other, one of which that I looked at. It proclaimed, “My dearest Mabel, with each day that passes, your face is all that I can think about. Your exact image has been ingrained within my head, to a point where if I do not think about you, my mood turns sour.” Odd words, for sure, but granted, this is Mabel’s first friend, so I passed it off. Both are, well, socially inept. Somehow, after a few letters or so, Mabel was invited to Madame Priscilla’s manor in Windsor. And to some extent, Richard and I were as well. Richard tried to deny going, but I couldn’t say no to the look of giddiness and pure joy written all over Mabel’s face.
From London to Windsor, the drive was not that long. As we approached the large gates of the estate, a chill ran down my spine. I must’ve looked pale or whatnot, as Richard took notice and muttered in my ear, “Irene, do not embarrass me. Try to look presentable.” Richard does care. Sometimes, though, I feel as though he does not love me.
The manor itself was large, almost castle-like in appearance. The sky’s gray downcast upon the briar covered walls made the gloomy brick seem dusty and cold. The gardens, while well groomed, seemed lifeless and still, the leaves of the flowers wilting and crumbling by the seconds. And as we approached the center of the manor, the large, looming front doors burst open, and standing in the center was what I assumed to be Madame Priscilla. There was something almost enthralling about her beauty. Though I confess, her clothing was a bit garish: dressed in men’s garments,
hair short and pulled back in a low ponytail, her eyebrows thick yet groomed. There was a boyish charm to her. The moment she laid her eyes on Mabel, she rushed over, a brilliant smile graced upon her face.
She gave a low bow, took Mabel’s hand, and kissed it. “My dearest Mabel, you look absolutely divine as always.” Her voice was something along the lines of sweet, but husky. Mabel giggled, her face looking a tad flush.
Richard, I noticed from the corner of my eye, seemed to sneer, but he approached Madame Priscilla regardless. “Madame, a pleasure to be meeting you. I hope that whatever seems to be the
problem with you is fixed soon.”
Mabel seemed to wince at that, but Madame Priscilla seemed to only give a slight chuckle at that. When I noticed her smile, two of her upper canines seemed to be a little bit sharper than usual…
Later, at dinner, Madame Priscilla seemed to only have eyes for Mabel. The two were chatting, laughing, and overall seemed to enjoy each other’s company. I feel as though I’ve never seen Mabel this happy or comfortable before with other people. However, Richard seemed to only be taking misery in the company. When the other two were caught up in a riveting conversation, Richard grabbed my shoulder and forced me towards him. “There’s something wrong with that Madame Priscilla,” he whispered harshly. His grip on my shoulder grew tighter, his fingers digging into my skin. I held back a whimper.
“Well…I suppose we shouldn’t be so judge-”
“Don’t you get it? Look at her pale white skin. Those slightly sharp fangs, the way her eyes are lavishing Lady Mabel like the eyes of a hungry predator.” Richard snarled.
I looked over at the two. Looking at the Madame, I noticed her eyes were soft and gentle. Sure, two of her canines were slightly sharper than average, but one can’t fault her for that. And her skin looked, well, pale, but not deathly pale. “Richard, I don’t see-”
“Irene, don’t talk back to me. I know what that witch is: one of the undead. A vampire.” He seemed to growl; his grip only worsened on my shoulder, and I let out a sharp whimper. This seemed to attract the attention of the other two, who looked over.
Madame Priscilla’s stare seemed to harden at Richard. “Sir, I kindly ask you to remove your hands off from her.” Her voice was cold, sending a rash of gooseflesh up my arm; a shiver ran down my spine. Richard scoffed but let go. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that when Madame Priscilla looked over at me, her stare softened, and her eyes held a manner of sympathy.
Later that night, Madame Priscilla invited us to stay the night. Because it was so late, we agreed for convenience’s sake. Richard was sleeping in another room, where a maid had followed him in to help him for the night. I tried to say that he could always sleep with me, but he only sneered and dismissed me. All seemed peaceful throughout the night. Until the sound of Richard banging on my door awoke me. As soon as I opened the door, Richard grabbed me by the arm and started to drag me down the hall.
“Richard! What is the meaning of-”
“Shut it, wench! Come look at this! This will make you not deny me ever again!”
His voice was harsh, almost a little manic. While his eyes were laced with anger, the little twitches of his mouth were almost…giddy? We came to a door, which I believe was the door of Madame
Priscilla’s chambers. Without another word or warning, he barged in through the door. “You damn witch! You heartless demon! I command you to back away from that poor, defenseless, dense woman!” he screamed.
It took me some moments to come to the present, but once I came to, I gasped. Madame Priscilla and Mabel were on top of each other, Mabel’s nightdress slipped down, her neck exposed. Madame Priscilla’s night shirt was nearly off, exposing her chest. On Mabel’s neck, I noticed two little pinpricks of blood that were slightly dribbling down her neck. Both women were staring at Richard and me, in stunned silence and a slight hint of fear. Richard lurched forward, and with the might of the Devil grabbed Mabel by the hair, dragging her out of the bed from on top of Priscilla. Mabel started screaming, crying, trying to kick and scratch her way out of Richard’s grasp.
“Priscilla!” She cried out, trying to reach for her. Priscilla shot up, and tried to grab her hand, but Richard kicked her straight in the gut, knocking her down to the ground. Priscilla was crying; Mabel was crying; all I could do was watch.
“You damn demon! You have cursed another beautiful woman with your sin of nature! One day, you will be sent back to Satan!” Richard let go of me in the chaos, and stormed off, Mabel’s hair still tightly grasped in his fist. I looked back towards Priscilla.
Priscilla looked up at me, tears in her eyes, genuine hurt and betrayal lacing her features as her body trembled. “Lady Irene, please…I didn’t mean to…I didn’t…please, Irene!” She begged me, tears falling like waterfalls down her face. I turned and ran. And never looked back.
