“Do you really not know, miss?” Of course she didn’t. Vampires cared about time only as it impacted other people, and Jill, while still human, was already thinking like a vampire. Mary forced herself to smile. “Today is the fifth anniversary of your arrival in the Moors.”
Jill’s eyes widened. “I’m seventeen?”
“Yes, miss.” Time in the Moors was not precisely like time in the world Jack and Jill had originally come from: it followed a different set of natural rules and did not map precisely to any other calendar. But a year was a year. Even if their precise birthday was impossible to mark, the date of their arrival was clear.
Jill tumbled out of bed in an avalanche of blankets and fluffy nightgown. “I was almost twelve and a half when we arrived here,” she said excitedly, starting to shovel her covers back onto the mattress. “That makes me practically eighteen. Does he want me? Tonight? Is it finally time?”
“Practically eighteen is not the same as actually eighteen, miss,” said Mary, fighting to keep the precise balance of kindness and deference she needed when speaking to Jill. “He knew you would ask about this. He said to tell you that because we do not know your precise birthday, he will err on the side of caution; things will continue as they are until the Drowned Abbey rings the bells for the change of seasons.”
“But that’s forever!” protested Jill. “Why so long? I’ve done nothing wrong! I’ve been so good! Everything he’s asked me to be, I’ve become!” She dropped her armload of pillows and straightened, waving her hands to indicate the elegant lace of her nightgown, the carefully arrayed curl of her hair. She had long since mastered the art of sleeping motionlessly, so as to rise perfectly coifed and ready to face whatever the night might hold.
“Everything except an adult,” said Mary gently. “The door could still open for you. The world of your birth could still pull you back.”
“That’s a bedtime story to frighten children,” snapped Jill. “Doors don’t come back when they’re not wanted.”
“You knew what a vampire was when you came here,” said Mary. “Didn’t you wonder why that was? The rules we have exist because mistakes have been made in the past. Things have gone wrong.” Newly made vampires, things of anger and appetite, stumbling through magical doors and back into worlds that had no defenses against them …
Mary suppressed the urge to shiver. The Moors knew how to live with vampires. The Moors were equipped to survive alongside their own monsters.
“Had you gone to the mountains and the care of the werewolf lord, he would tell you the same,” she said. “Or down to the sea. The Drowned Gods change no one young enough to go back to where they came from. We must be careful, lest we attract the attention of whatever force creates the doors. If they stopped, the Moors would be lost.”
“The Moon makes the doors,” said Jill in a waspish tone. “Everyone knows that.”
“There are other theories.”
“Those theories are wrong.” Jill glared at her. “The door we used said ‘Be Sure’ on it, and I’m sure. I’m sure I want to be a vampire. I want to be strong and beautiful and forever. I want to know that no one can ever, ever take all this away from me. Why can’t I have that?”
“You will,” said Mary. “When the bells of the Drowned Abbey ring, you will. The Master will take you to the highest tower, and he’ll make you ruthless, and he’ll make you swift, and most of all, he’ll make you his. But you must wait for the bells to ring, miss, you must. I know it’s difficult. I know you don’t want to wait. But—”
“What do you know, Mary?” snapped Jill. “You were a foundling. This could have been yours. You refused him. Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to be ruthless, miss.” It had all seemed like a game at first, her and the vampire in the high castle, him offering her whatever she wanted, while she laughed and refused everything but what she needed. It had seemed like a game.
And then he had asked to be her new father, and asked her to be his child, to rule alongside him forever in fury and in blood.
And then he had raged at her refusal. Her friends from the village kept disappearing, and at first that had seemed like a game too, a vast conspiracy of hide-and-seek … until the day he’d dragged little Bela in front of her and said “This is what becomes of those who oppose me,” and ripped the boy’s throat out with his teeth. Sometimes Mary thought she could still feel the blood on her face.
But Jill had never seen that side of him. Jill had been his precious little princess from the start. Jill walked on clouds and dreamt of vampirism like it was a wonderful game, still a wonderful game, and there was no way Mary could convince her otherwise.
Jill’s face hardened. “I can be ruthless,” she said. “I’ll show him that I can be ruthless, and then he’ll see that we don’t have to wait. I can be his daughter right now.”
“Yes, miss,” said Mary. “Do you want breakfast?”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Jill, which meant “yes.” In that regard, at least, the girl was already a vampire: she was always hungry.
“Thank you, miss,” said Mary, and made her exit as quickly and gracefully as possible.
Jill watched her go, face still hard. Once she was sure the other woman would not be coming back she turned and walked to her wardrobe, pulling it open to reveal a rainbow of pastel dresses. She selected the palest of them, a cream silk gown that brought out the gold in her hair and the ivory in her skin. It was the next best thing to white, to a wedding gown. She would show him that she didn’t need to wait.
She would show him that she already understood what it was to be ruthless.
*
TODAY WAS THE ANNIVERSARY of their arrival. The Master would no doubt host a party in her honor when the sun went down, something decadent and grand. He might even invite the other vampires to come and coo over his protégée, how far she’d come, how beautiful she was. Yes: it would be a lovely affair, and the only way it could be better was if it ended with her glorious demise and even more glorious rebirth.
Waiting was pointless. Even if a door opened, she wouldn’t go through it. She would never leave her beloved Master like that. All she needed to do was prove to him that she was serious, that she was ruthless enough to be his child, and everything would be perfect.
If there was to be a party in her honor, something glorious and befitting a vampire’s child, that dreadful Dr. Bleak would be doing something for Jack as well. He had to. Everyone knew that being a mad scientist’s apprentice wasn’t as good as being the Master’s daughter, and that meant that Dr. Bleak couldn’t afford to miss any opportunity to bind Jack’s loyalty more tightly to him. There would be a party.
And if there was a party, Alexis would be attending.