August was dripping down their windowpane. While Pearl ached for another orgy, her father received a curious visitor.

Why, it was Mrs. Georgia Cary, Pearl’s closest friend! She came into his parlor looking lovely as ever, though perhaps a bit pale (and dreadfully tired). She was unaccompanied and, when pressed, said that her husband was off on the shore and would be gone the whole day.

“Pearl has gone for a walk. You are welcome to stay here and wait for her.” Ephraim indicated a chair near the fireplace.

Georgia, however, remained where she was standing. “I’m not here to visit Miss Spice, sir,” said she. “I’ve come to speak with you.”

“And what for?”

Despite the muggy summer heat, Georgia was wearing a high collar. At his question, she quivered like a frightened dog.

“May we conduct this somewhere more private?”

To his study they went. Georgia filled the small room with the scent of lavender and trout as she fiddled with her hands. Only when Ephraim had closed the door, ensuring they were truly alone, did she roll her collar down.

There, on her lovely throat, rested a pair of blue-black bruises, haloed around two scabbed incisions. Ephraim saw the wound, and knew at once the horror it entailed.

“Are there any more?” asked Ephraim.

Georgia stared firmly at the floor. “N-no.”

“Child, this is a matter of life and death,” Ephraim said. “Your immortal soul hangs in the balance. Do not lie to me.”

The girl’s hand shyly plucked at her skirts. “There is another.”

“Where?”

She continued to fiddle with the fabric above her thigh. Ephraim nodded in understanding.

“Ah!” He tapped her nose. “It must’ve been very hungry, then.”

But Georgia found no humor in the situation. “Can you help me?”

Ephraim hardly heard her distress; he was far ahead, lost in thought. He paced about his study. “Have you slept with your window open?”

“Y-yes, of course.” Georgia’s throat bobbed. “It’s been so hot…”

“Well, cease that at once!” Ephraim shouted. He put a hand to his chin, then said, “But, perhaps not tonight.”

“Why?” Georgia was shaking again.

“Because–” Ephraim walked over to his desk and lifted his pistol. He tossed it gently, feeling the familiar heft in his palm. “Tonight, we are going to bait it.”

A warm drizzle coated the rooftops when Pearl at last returned from her stroll. She did not have a moment of respite. Georgia was there (why was Georgia there?) and insisted that Pearl walk her home despite the inclement weather.

The maid fetched them umbrellas. Through the wide lanes they walked. Georgia’s pace was hurried— far too hurried to appear casual— but it was simple enough to attribute that to the rain. Pearl’s heart beat faster and faster.

“Georgia, darling,” said Pearl. “It is too harsh outside. Why don’t we wait in a tavern until the storm abates?”

“No!” Georgia’s voice was harsh. “No, I will not be seen in a place such as— the likes of such as that.”

“Why did you come, Georgia? Why did you insist we walk alone in such dire circumstances?”

“Because,” said Georgia— and went on to describe a horrid scene. Her voice quivered in fear as she described her discovery of the vampire’s mark upon her. It had occurred shortly after their… visit with Ianthe and had come as such a shock that she felt no choice but to seek Ephraim Spice’s expertise.

She clung tight to Pearl’s arm.

“May I…?” Rain pattered above Pearl’s head. “May I see them?”

Georgia nodded her assent. Pearl reached out with shaking fingers to peel back Georgia’s high collar. She gasped when she saw them, to Georgia’s chagrin.

“Yes… I know. It is…” Georgia grimaced.

They were so deep! It must have been so very painful, and the vampire had surely drunk very deeply from Georgia. It was a miracle that she was still standing! Georgia must have been made of strong stuff, despite her thin frame. What a perfect meal she must’ve made.

Pearl realized that she was blushing very deeply. Georgia mistook the look for horror— for what else could it be? How could Pearl ever utter, to someone she held in such high regard, that her eyes blazed not with anger, but with deep yearning?

“You ask why I have come…” Georgia turned to Pearl, and gently lifted her collar back to hide the ghastly mark. “Is it not obvious? God knows what we have done. We’ve gone too far, Pearl, sinned too greatly! So, I sought out your father.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m frightened, Pearl!” Georgia’s voice shook. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“If the vampire wanted to kill you, it would have done so,” said Pearl. “They’re dumb beasts. They do not play with their food.”

“Do not make light of this!” Georgia whirled at her, blocking their path. “It did not kill me because God had granted me a second chance.”

Impulsively, they both crossed themselves. But Pearl stopped partway through.

“The Lord may see fit to forgive us,” Pearl said, “but Father will not. Georgia, think seriously about this. If Father learns about our activities, he will not keep quiet. He is going to examine all you have done closely, darling, and he’ll—he’ll tell your husband.”

“Oh, but I am going to die!” Georgia took hold of Pearl’s shoulders, the umbrella slipping in her grip. The sheen of rain made her red cheeks drip.

“You are not going to die,” Pearl said firmly.

“What has made you so sure of such a thing, Pearl? You know nothing!”

Pearl continued, as if Georgia was not shaking her. “Have you considered what your actions might mean for myself? If Father finds out— I’ll— I’ll never have my freedom again! Or perhaps he will disown me outright! And that is not even to speak what may happen to our friend’s reputation…”

Something passed Georgia’s countenance. Her panic receded, to be replaced with a bitter ache. She straightened her umbrella and turned up her nose.

“Do not act like you’d be starving on the street, should such a thing arise,” said she. “We all know you would just go and be Ianthe’s little slave, like the other one.”

Ah. So that is what this had been about. “Georgia, darling…”

Georgia’s eyes slit open, a glower that Pearl felt like the rays of a fire. There was no sound besides the dribble of rain against their umbrellas.

Said Pearl, “I love you, Georgia, my dear! Do not doubt my affections.”

“I cannot believe you!” said Georgia, with a growing rage. “She is not our friend, she is yours! If I had my way, I would never have anything to do with her, the snake!”

“But— Georgia, I thought you enjoyed—”

“I tolerated the whole noxious affair because I wished to be with you. I went at your insistence, at your simpering. I should have known! I should have known. Oh, prudent, would it be? Yes, it would be prudent to let my lover fuck whoever she pleased!”

“Georgia, be qui—”

“Do not take me for a fool. I come to you, begging for your care in this trying time, and all you can speak of is yourself and your friend.”

“She is important to me, too!” said Pearl. “I can hold you both in high regard, can I not?”

“Then, tell me: do you love Ianthe?”

Pearl could have lied— should have, perhaps. But there was no denying it, and no room left in her stormy mind to consider holding her tongue. “Yes!”

“Do you love Ianthe more than you love me?”

“Yes,” said Pearl. “A thousand times over.”

How hard the rain pounded! How dark was the walkway, how deeply the puddles shuddered in the rainfall! Thunder rumbled overhead.

Georgia’s countenance, at first so shocked at Pearl’s frank confession, grew hard. She turned away.

“Well—” She readjusted the handle of her umbrella. “Then, we will not have to worry about discovery. We are over, you and I.”

Pearl said nothing. She should say something, she knew— she should tell Georgia how she loved her, how she was willing to lay down these new affections for her sake, how they would survive this storm together.

All Pearl thought of, however, was the new world that now lay open to her. She let the world roll in her ears, and waited for Georgia to walk away.

But Georgia’s bonnet rose. She turned, and continued to speak as if Pearl had bothered to fight for her. 

“I do not have the room in my heart to struggle for your affections, Pearl!” said she, waving her hands wildly. “We could have found a way to love that was almost natural. Had you been satisfied, we could have found to live as if we were married. But I cannot control you— I cannot stop you from deciding you’d rather bark like a dog at your master’s feet.”

“Do not speak of Ianthe like–”

“I can speak however I like.” Georgia stood her ground. Only when she spoke again did her voice shake. “I loved you my whole life. It was a miracle that my affections were returned. I had not realized they were such fragile things. I never thought you fickle, Pearl.”

Pearl looked at the ground.

“And, for those precious days we spent as one another’s, I would have done anything. Do you understand that? At your word, I would have left my husband. I would have run away, left all my life and my family behind. Instead, all you asked me to sacrifice was my dignity.”

Even as Pearl continued her silent streak– for truly, there was nothing to say– it was like Georgia was stretching away, the sidewalk splitting between them, an ignoble chasm.

“Overnight, you’ve grown cold to me. I wish– I wish you had never loved me, if this is how it must end! How could you? I am frightened for my life, darling, and all you think about is yourself and– and that freak of nature!”

She was crying again. Pearl saw her, paint wiped away, leaving that plain, familiar face that Pearl could trace like a map of her home.

“Yes,” Pearl said. It was all true, every word of it. Pearl was unforgivable, she was going to burn in hell– without Georgia. “Good-bye. I hope you find someone good for you, friend. You can keep the umbrella.”

Then Georgia was walking off with a limping, injured step, splashing through the puddles. Pearl saw her as the tiniest flicker of shadow through wilting eyes.

A storm rolled in with the night. At the Cary household, two strapping heroes arrived with boxes of silver balls, belts lined with stakes and vials. They spoke calmly and reasonably to Georgia’s dumbfounded husband until he let them through. As the sun set, Ephraim Spice baited his trap.

Georgia lay in bed, with the window open. She’d wrapped a crucifix around her wrist, hidden under her covers, the metal biting into her palm. Great sloughs of rain hit the side of the house, dribbling down the sill. Georgia, despite the situation, felt a spike of annoyance for, if nothing was done later, the carpet would begin to grow mold.

While Aubrey waited with Mr. Cary in the gloomy parlor, Ephraim stood behind her door, waiting with his gun held ready and a wooden cross clutched to his heart. Thus the vigil began.

But the vampire did not visit Georgia that night.