The Vampire & Her Witch

”Where should I begin?” Ashlynn asked

”At the beginning,” Jocelynn said, settling back against the boat’s high side with the tiller handle tucked under her arm and her line running out over the rail. ”Obviously.”

”The beginning is... Um,” Ashlynn said awkwardly. ”It’s not that there weren’t sweet moments in the beginning, but it’s not exactly romantic. I had just crawled out of a grave, and I was covered in mud with nothing but a bedsheet when Nyri found me walking by the road in a rainstorm... It’s not exactly a fairy tale beginning.”

”But she thought you were beautiful, even then,” Jocelynn said, remembering the painting of Ashlynn in Nyrielle’s Gallery of Pain.

”Oh?” Ashlynn said, raising a brow at her sister while she toyed with her line in the water, giving the bait a bit of movement to entice the fish below the water’s surface. ”You two talked about it then?”

”A little bit,” Jocelynn said awkwardly. ”She, um, she showed me a painting of you that night, so I, I knew what Owain did to you and...”

”Ah,” Ashlynn said, her cheeks heating slightly in the cold winter air. ”Then, did she tell you about how we formed our bond that night?”

”No,” Jocelynn said, shaking her head. ”We, um, we talked about other things, but not that...”

”Nyri looks scary sometimes, and she can be really fierce,” Ashlynn said. ”But that night, she was amazing and tender even before she’d tasted my blood. I was a dirty, bloody mess, but she held me and washed the mud and the blood away. She sent Zedya to bring me a nice dress to wear; I had two to choose from even,” she said, smiling as she remembered that night.

”Nyri said that she refused to shame me by treating me like chattel the way Owain had,” Ashlynn said. ”She wanted that moment to be special. We were binding our lives together in a blood pact that could only be broken by death, so she took the time to make it magical and wonderful.”

”When we made our pledges to each other, the Ancient Oak was shining and raining down motes of healing light,” Ashlynn said, her eyes growing distant. ”I wore an old-fashioned green dress; it had to be at least a hundred years old, and it didn’t fit quite right, but it didn’t matter because... ah!” Ashlynn gasped as her fishing line suddenly went taut.

”You got something already?” Jocelynn said, rushing to Ashlynn’s side as her sister pulled on her line.

-SNAP!-

The sound of Ashlynn’s line snapping with the force of her tug filled the quiet morning air, followed a moment later by a heavy -PLUNK!-

A trout that must have been almost as long as Ashlynn’s whole arm briefly broke the surface of the water before it vanished back into the river, leaving Ashlynn standing in the boat holding part of a fishing line dangling in the air.

”Ash...” Jocelynn said, giving her sister an awkward look.

”Hmm?” Ashlynn said, still staring at the ripples on the river where the fish had disappeared.

”I think you’re too strong now,” Jocelynn said, reaching out with her free hand to squeeze Ashlynn’s arm like she was measuring her sister’s muscles. ”Maybe you need a better line, like the ones father uses for swordfish and yellowtail,” she offered helpfully. ”Then, you could at least catch a minnow or two,” she teased.

”Minnow!” Ashlynn said, rounding on her sister. ”I’ll minnow you,” she said, dipping her hand into the icy water of the river and flicking several droplets at Jocelynn.

”Hey! It’s cold!” Jocelynn said, shielding herself with her cloak. The boat shook from side to side, and she quickly clutched the rail before she found herself going overboard. Her right hand, however, held fast to her fishing line the whole time, refusing to let go and give Ashlynn the satisfaction of making her lose her line.

”Minnows are cold,” Ashlynn shot back childishly, sticking out her tongue as she knelt on the floorboards of the boat, opening the picnic basket for breakfast rather than reaching for another fishing line.

”The bread is still warm though,” Ashlynn said. ”Want me to make you a sandwich so you can eat with one hand while you fish? It’s on you to catch us a big one.”

”Don’t make it too big,” Jocelynn said, moving back to her seat by the tiller. ”I’m not that hungry,” she added in a voice that was smaller than she meant it to be.

”I know just the thing,” Ashlynn said, pulling out some of the smoked ham and a knife to slice it thin. She followed the ham with a slice of sharp, yellow cheese, then one of the winter apples, sliced as thin as she could get them.

”See?” Ashlynn said, holding up one of the slices of apple that was thin enough for light to pass through it. ”It’ll be a nice, small sandwich,” she promised.

”It’s not fair that you’re so good at cooking now,” Jocelynn said. ”In the middle of the river on a rocking boat and your knife skills are still so sharp.”

”Didn’t help me catch a fish,” Ashlynn pointed out as she pulled out a small crock of freshly ground mustard sauce from the bottom of the basket, slathering a generous portion on the bread before the thin slices of ham went on, with the cheese and the apple slices on top.

”Here,” she added, passing Jocelynn the sandwich. ”Nice and thin for you,” she said.

”It is not,” Jocelynn protested when she saw how high Ashlynn had piled the ham.

”They’re thin slices; just nibble on it,” Ashlynn encouraged as she started making a sandwich for herself, piled twice as high. ”It’s cold; a good solid meal will help you keep your strength up.”

”Yes, Mother,” Jocelynn said, obediently nibbling on the sandwich that was sweet, savory, and a touch tangy from the mustard. The instant she called Ashlynn ’Mother,’ she regretted it. It brought a whole tangle of anxiety and fear with it for their mother’s arrival, but Jocelynn swallowed all of those down along with the freshly baked bread and everything else Ashlynn had put in the sandwich.

For several minutes, both sisters sat quietly, eating their breakfast sandwiches and watching the river. Surprisingly, Jocelynn ate every bite of her sandwich, and she looked almost sad when she got to the end of it.

”Need something to wash that down with?” Ashlynn asked as she reached for the bottle of light, fruity wine she’d pilfered from Bors Lothian’s private cellar.

”Just a small cup,” Jocelynn said. ”I mean it, half a cup or water it down,” she added quickly. ”Not like the sandwich; I don’t need to drink too much and, oh! Oh, I got one,” she said as she felt a tug on her line.

The faint pull on her line quickly grew stronger, and Jocelynn lurched forward as the fish struggled to escape. The line that was wound around her hand bit into her palm, and she scrambled to wrap the line around a peg before the fish got away.

The instant she’d secured the line, however, the whole boat lurched with the force of the pull, drifting towards the deeper waters at the center of the river.

”Ash!” Jocelynn said as she tried to pull on the line. Her hands and fingers weren’t as strong as they should have been, and her arms and shoulders burned with strain as soon as she tried to pull in the struggling fish. ”Ash, I need help!”