Vienna, Early 18th Century
To say Cosima's origins are humble is a gross understatement. The youngest of eleven children from a rural couple, her family moved from the Austrian border with Italy to the slums of Vienna, searching for a better life, only to find themselves in deeper poverty. It was a bad omen for Cosima Niehaus. Even during her human life, she didn't remember much of her younger years, the memories probably repressed. She does however, to this day, remember the hunger and, most of all, the cold in the austere Austrian winter. She remembers the nights she couldn't get warm, curled up in a pile of straw that served as a bed for her and two of her siblings in a drafty loft in the poorest part of the imponente metropole.
Despite all that, her surviving brothers and sisters considered her the lucky one. After all, her parents were patient with her, and only at the age of fourteen, after her mother had succumbed to pneumonia, was she forced to leave the house and find a life of her own. Until then she had scrambled to help her constantly infirm mother in the fish market, working for a few pennies a week, gutting fish and sell it to the higher classes that could afford such a treat. The discarded parts often turned into a watered down stew to feed too many hungry mouths.
With her fate hanging in the balance, the young girl was sent on her way with the clothes on her back and a couple of pennies in her pocket. She soon discovered that no one risked rent her so much as a bed; she was too young without a job or even the prospect of one. With no other alternative, Cosima resorted to joining the hundreds of people who slept on the step stones of elegant opera houses and theaters and was awoken with kicks to the stomach when morning arrived. The money she was allowed to bring with her lasted a staggering two weeks of food and after that, following the example of her street peers, Cosima started to beg for scraps in the back alleys of fancy restaurants, some nights with better success than others. It was the nights she went to sleep with an empty belly that the precariousness of her situation hit her the hardest.
It appeared that her fate was sealed. For a young girl without a dime to her name and no real skills, there was only one way to survive. She had seen them, of course, in the dark alleys as she roamed, scavenging for food. Saw them pressed against grimy, piss covered brick walls, with gruesome men lifting their skirts to reach an unimpressed, dry cunt. Prostitution seemed like her only option, her only valued asset being what lay between her legs. Still, she resisted. Even after several offers, the young girl refused to sell herself for a poor meal. It was not that she thought of herself better than those who followed that path, it was simply that the thought of it was enough to turn her stomach.
She hadn't had a meal for four days when she realized that you can't choose your fate; fate chooses you. The only reason she didn't puke while guiding the impeccably dressed, but extremely overweight man down a side street next to the tavern he'd stumbled out of, was because she had nothing left to expel. Yet, Cosima felt sick when he had roughly pushed her small body against a wall she passed by every day. Willing herself to just let go, the fourteen year old was trying hard to leave her body and pray that it wouldn't take too long. Other girls had told her the first time was the worst and after a few times, it was a job like any other, just another way to put food in her mouth. A rough hand was pulling at the soiled rags she wore, while the other was pushing his own trousers down, his disgusting heavy breath against her cheek as his grunts mingled with the sounds of voices and laughter coming from the tavern window that illuminated the dark corner. She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear slipping out and rolling down her dirty face that was ignored by the monstrosity pressed against her frail body. Waiting for her brain to shut down, her mind screamed for a way out but found none.
As she felt his swollen organ crushed against her thigh, Cosima didn't think about what she was doing when she summoned what was left of her energy to slam her skinny knee into the man's groin with all her strength. He released a strangled growl, and lurched backwards while bringing both his hands to cover the area in pain. Cosima was frozen, blinking as she watched the man trying to recover. She should run, leave him to nurse the pain alone, but her legs wouldn't move and after a couple of minutes, still with one hand between his legs, he came to her, swinging a fist. The blow to her face sent her stumbling back, hitting the wall, but jerked her out of the stupor, allowing her to easily evade his next attack. Catching the man by surprise, she took the chance to trip him, sending his massive body down with tremendous force, face first. It had been pure instinct that guided her when she started to kick him while he was down, cursing loudly with every blow of her foot to the man's impressive belly and legs. When he moved to turn on his back, she attacked his groin again until he was weakly moaning in pain, curling into himself, hands tucked between his legs in a futile attempt to shield himself. In the adjacent tavern the laughter and shouting continued, easily concealing the noise of the man's screams.
She quickly knelt and reached into his overcoat, fishing for his coin purse. She smiled her biggest smile in ages when she pulled it out, heavy with wealth. She didn't need to open it to know it was more money than she had ever seen in her life, the weight of the velvet sack enough proof of the gold and silver coins that inflated the purse. She stuffed it inside her undergarments, leaving the disgusting man laying on the ground with another kick to his stomach for good measure.
That night she had the best meal of her life to this day, not because it was the most tasteful or elaborate she ever had, but it was definitely the most satisfying.
Despite her newly found fortune, Cosima didn't go in a frenzy of spending. She was finally able to rent a room in a building that, at least had basic sanitation, and the landlord was more than happy to provide her with the best room available after receiving payment for six months. Cosima shared the house with three prostitutes, but all of them had their own bedroom, a true luxury, and bringing clients to the house was strictly forbidden. She didn't move out of the slums, but it was a significant improvement from the miserable attic she was raised in. The landlord's wife was a seamstress and new garments were the only other extravagant expense she made. She requested something simple and practical, something a seamstress apprentice would wear. She would need to be able to move around undetected, invisible, if she wanted to make it work.
Cosima discovered she had quick hands, probably from her work in the fish market. She became an expert at moving in and out of unsuspecting crowds; the wealthy patrons leaving the theater after an evening enjoying the latest musical, or out of a soiree held by one of the preeminent families of the growing city. Her hands slipped easily in and out of embroidered vests, or reduced the heavy weight of purses filled with coins dangling from the waist of gentlemen who looked at her with a superior gaze while ignoring her hand stripping them of their money. The fine purses were left abandoned in a ditch somewhere to get rid of any evidence of her activities. Unlike many of the peers she has come to meet over the years, Cosima stayed away from jewelry or the few banknotes she encountered in billfolds, nothing that could be traced back to the original owners. Trading jewels and fancy watches in pawn shops, or trying to scam a bank was how you get caught. Greed would land you in jail.
She lived a modest life, protecting herself, and changing her hunting ground regularly. Safety was paramount, making sure her face didn't become too familiar, stealing only when she felt comfortable with the area after several days surveying the premises. She didn't want to get rich; her only was aspiration to never go hungry again, no longer be desperate for a meal or money to buy new clothes and shoes. In time, she found her own place, moving out of the pest infested slums and into a loft in a modest part of Vienna where merchants were starting to move to now that the city was booming and the search for finer commodities was increasing. The city was growing; new and impressive buildings were rising every day, expanding the number of places she could work around. She couldn't complain, life was good after all.
Cosima always liked the Summer. The lighter fabrics made her work much easier, and people would stay out until late at night. She didn't know if was the heat, but they also became more stupid.
It was on such a night that her luck ran out.
She was slipping her hand out of a silk coat, prize in hand when gloved fingers wrapped around her wrist, freezing her movements.
"I don't think that belongs to you."
The female voice spoke casually, so low that it seem to come from inside her head. She lifted her head and found a gaze as blue as the summer sky. Without a word she tried to run, but the small hand had a surprisingly strong grip and yanked her so firmly that she almost lost her footing. Cosima looked around, finding several pairs of eyes pinning her with angry gazes; she was trapped.
"Where do you think you're going?" The small woman asked.
Cosima swallowed thickly, her arm still captured by the strong hold. She took in the other woman, the gown a bright yellow, almost as golden as the stylish hair. She was small, shorter than Cosima herself, and her complexion was unnaturally pale that Cosima associated with white powder, so en vogue those days. An ample bosom was nearly spilling out of the top of the dress, with the shoulders and slender neck wrapped in white fur, completely unnecessary in the hot night but that no lady would leave the house without. The rouge covering her cheekbones not enough to hide the youthful features, even with lips painted a dark pink.
Next to the mysterious woman was a tall man, at least twice her age, a white wig sitting somewhat skewed on top of his head. He wore white breeches with a white shirt beneath a red and gold embroidered vest. His justacorps was draped clumsily over his shoulder, unbuttoned with the folds pulled up. His expression, while dull, held a deadly stare that was turned to the woman he was chaperoning, as if Cosima hadn't just tried to relieve him of his purse.
"Keep it!" Cosima spit out as her hand opened and allowed the purse to drop to the marble steps of the opera House, some coins rolling from inside.
The other woman smiled, gleaming white teeth giving the youthful face a predatory expression, eliciting a cold shiver that ran down Cosima's spine.
"It doesn't work that way," she said, the German pressed by an accent Cosima couldn't place. The arm tucked around the man's elbow slipping free while still keeping Cosima from running away with the other hand.
"What do you want?" Cosima asked, an edge to her voice despite her uneasiness.
She had years of experience in the streets, and while she was never caught in the act, she had seen enough to know that any sign of weakness could mean the end of her. But the small woman didn't flinch, instead the subtle amusement in her eyes grew brighter, a smile stretching her lips wider and revealing sharp fangs. The man next to her appeared oblivious to what was happening around him, his eyes blank, as if in trance, never leaving the features of his company. Cosima's confused gaze danced momentarily between the two, finally settling on the far more attractive and captivating person, looking slightly down, lured by the impossible blue in the woman's eyes.
"You're a spirited one, aren't you?" The small woman teased in an alluring voice that wrapped around Cosima like smoke, licking her skin like the smoothest breeze of a summer afternoon.
Lace covered fingers reached her cheek, grazing her skin in a tender caress and Cosima remained still, unable to pull her eyes away from the glassy stare. Another shiver journeyed slowly along her back, but this time it was something much different, it was almost warm, nestling in her gut and awakening a yearning. The hairs on the back of her neck rising with the attention the piercing eyes were demanding of her.
Before she knew what was happening, Cosima was being pulled away from the crowd, the arm linked around hers unnecessary as her legs voluntarily carried her down the steps at an easy pace. In her daze, the brunette looked over her shoulder to the man who was so promptly abandoned and was blinking a few times, looking around himself as if waking from a deep slumber.
"Don't you worry about him," the mysterious woman next to her said, pulling her softly after Cosima's steps faltered briefly. "I'm sure he can find his way home."
They approached a carriage, two magnificently muscled animals harnessed to it, and a lean man, with a black long-coat and top hat that hid his features. At the sight of them, he jumped down with agility and quickly moved to open the door without so much as a word.
"Where are we going?" Cosima finally asked once the wooden wheels rolled them away, the polished stones on the road making the carriage bounce up and down.
The woman laughed. "My house, of course," she replied matter-of-factually.
"I didn't agree to that," Cosima said and despite knowing that she should be feeling annoyed, her tone was mild, tamed.
The laughter grew, ringing in Cosima's ears and filling the small cabin covered in a red velvet. "Oh my dear, you didn't have to."
Cosima frowned, confusion clouding her mind, but regardless of the increasing uneasiness, fleeing was something that never occurred to her. She sunk down more comfortably against the soft cushions, momentarily tearing her eyes away from the eyes that seemed to shine brighter the longer they were together and pulled the heavy curtain aside to peer out the window. They weren't going very fast, horseshoes clapping in an easy trot as they crossed streets weakly illuminated in a dull orange by the two lanterns of their coach. In some of the windows, where the people inside were still up, there was some light, but before long, as they left the city center, the streets became dark, houses of those who have to wake up at first light to keep the city running had no signs of life. Soon, they crossed through the city gates and that's when the horses really started to move. She heard the crack of the whip and a shout of encouragement from their driver before she released the curtain.
"You live outside the city," Cosima observed, turning her face to the woman who didn't seem to have taken her eyes off of her.
"I do," she answers causally.
"Alone?" Cosima raised a suspicious eyebrow.
The blonde smirked, the tip of her teeth creasing the voluptuous lips. "With family."
"Why are you taking me there?"
"I have something I want to show you." The answer was spoken in an alluring tone, while sparkling blue eyes journeyed the entire length of the brunette's body.
Cosima was far from innocent. In fact, she was quite experienced in all manners of what society called perversion. But she was always careful with the lovers she took, keeping her fleeting affairs away from judgmental eyes. From prostitutes to pure virgins, passing by unhappy married women, she had them all. She also heard about high society ladies, unsatisfied with their husbands that sought satisfaction with a female hand between their thighs or a soft tongue buried in their depths, even if she herself had yet to have that particular pleasure. But something was wrong with this scenario: the present company didn't seem to belong to neither of those categories. Cosima didn't know how, but she was fairly certain that the blonde was unmarried and had never found herself unsatisfied.
She had more questions than answers when the carriage stopped and the driver came down to open the small door. The imposing building came into view, sparsely illuminated by lanterns beside the massive double doors, the rest of the building a shadow in the moonlight. She had little time to take notice of the three story mansion, as the same man who drove them opened one of the oak doors and they moved inside, Cosima walking quickly to follow the other woman.
They reached a large room, richly decorated, the floor covered entirely by a fiery red and bright orange carpet. The paintings on the walls told stories of pagan gods in the most depraved situations, voluptuous women with lascivious stares and expressions of ecstasy. Two red sofas with wooden frames covered in gold foil surrounded a small table and a long chaise of the same color positioned under a large window. The curtain was pushed to the side, allowing the moon to enter the room.
Cosima was distracted from her observation by the small woman brushing past her, the fur collar slipping off her pale neck while she walked with slow steps to the center of the room. Looking at the brunette over her shoulder with a gaze not too different from the ones on the paintings, she dropped the article carelessly on one of the sofas. Cosima swallowed thickly at the sight of freshly revealed skin, her mind a fog as if she were dreaming. But she was wide awake, and the distinct pull in her gut was proof enough of that and yet, as she stepped closer to the small figure with the back turned to her, it was like she was watching someone else move.
"Who are you?" She heard herself ask.
The woman turned around, smirking and unsurprised by Cosima's proximity. "We'll have plenty of time for that," she cryptically replied with a purr, pulling each finger of her gloves methodically.
The gesture seemed simple enough and yet it was captivating; Cosima was completely mesmerized by every movement which revealed blood red painted nails. However, when one of these hands rose to cover her cheek, she stepped back and tip of fingers never made contact with flushed skin. With the distance she regained some of her wits. Cosima had years behind her of street smarts and that'd probably helped her not be fully ensnared by the demanding eyes casting an intense gaze upon her.
"So... this is your place?" She asked moving to the small table in a corner where several bottles of amber liquid along with a few crystal glasses were set.
"For now," came the answer with a hint of boredom. "I'm getting tired of Vienna, the same faces all the time, the same tedious entertainment. Perhaps Paris would suit me better," she continued, slowly getting closer to Cosima. "I hear France is about to get really exciting the next few decades."
Cosima hummed, not questioning the veracity of the statement or how relevant the destiny of a place so far away could be.
"Where is everyone?" Cosima asked, pursuing another line of inquiry, noticing the silence that encapsulated the rest of the house.
"Probably still out," the blonde answered with a shrug of her shoulders, giving it little importance.
Cosima didn't notice the casualness in the other woman, she was focused on pouring herself a drink, the rich aroma of the liquor so intense she could smell it just by opening the decanter's capsule.
"I don't want your taste tainted," the stranger said against the skin of her neck, her front firmly pressed to Cosima's back, her hand reaching for the glass the brunette was already bringing to her lips.
The softest lips she ever felt grazed along her flesh, while the hand covering hers guided the glass back to the table. She tried to turn around, but a surprisingly strong hand on her hip prevented her to do so, tugging at her body, increasing the press of their forms. Cosima's breath caught in her throat as she felt every delicious curve, every rise and fall of the mounds of the other woman's breasts pressing against her with every breath the blonde took against the skin of her neck. The hand on her hip descended while a thigh nudged her legs apart. Even through the barrier of her garments, the touch she felt on the most intimate part of her being ignited a fire inside her. Cosima groaned and tried to turn around again, only to be denied once more, the other hand occupied with pulling her wavy hair to the side, completely exposing her shoulder.
"I can give you a life you've never dreamed of," the sensual voice seemed to be born from inside her own mind and not from the mouth nibbling the soft flesh of her shoulder. "Give you answers to questions you never thought of asking, Cosima."
Cosima didn't remember when she mentioned her name, but her mind was so clouded in a haze of arousal that she didn't even bother to think about the repercussions of it. She only cared about how exciting it was to hear her name spoken amid promises she never asked for, with all her guard down, she was the one who covered the other woman's hand, pulling it closer to herself while her body shifted to seek a fuller contact.
The stranger chuckled at her eagerness, but pressed harder against her. "I can even teach you some patience," she goaded in a thick voice, "and give you all the time in the world to learn it."
Cosima whined when the hand slipped free from her weak grasp, fingers slowly rising the skirt of her dress and the other was moving along her torso until a breast was attended to with a firm squeeze. Once the fabric of the dress was out of the way, the mysterious woman didn't waste any time in sliding her hand under the waistband of the undergarment and to cup the warm flesh, a tongue darting out and licking slowly the length of Cosima's neck. The brunette groaned heavily, her knees almost giving up and only the arm around her chest prevented her from falling.
"I can give you a life without a care in the world, when you want something you can just take it," the enticing voice continued as fingers slipped between the folds of her sex, hearing a moan of appreciation when those same digits found slick arousal. "I can give you eternity," the woman said, pushing a finger inside slowly.
Cosima closed her eyes, her entire world was the fingers moving against her, pressing inside her, pumping in and out in an excruciatingly slow rhythm. And it was the hand that somehow found a way under the collar of her dress and was expertly caressing her breast, a thumb rolling around her nipple. Her breath hitched when the fingers inside gave a particularly strong thrust, curling into her depths and spawning more arousal.
"You just have to say yes," the voice was merely a whisper, but it resonated inside her like thunder.
She was teetering on the edge, the muscles of her abdomen tense but no release in sight. Cosima moved her body against the digits, searching for just the right amount of friction applied to just the right place, but every time she was close to succeeding, the other woman would change the position so the desired release was not achieved. Fingers moved out of her and journeyed along the entire sex with a possessive vigor and were pushed inside again, curling forcefully in a quick thrust.
"Say it!" It was a command now, the voice no longer a sensual whisper but a frustrated growl. "Say the word, Cosima, and I will give you everything you want."
"Yes..." She hears herself moan weakly, her body trapped within itself, ready to snap from the tension built too tightly inside her.
"Yes, what?" The same demanding tone, fingers completely still inside her.
"Yes, I want it!" She all but screamed, begging for release. "I want it all!"
"Good girl..."
The icy words sent her into a momentary state of panic, the hot blood turned to ice in her veins the moment she felt a harsh pain on her neck, she could feel the two punctures like pieces of ice piercing her flesh despite the flash of pain coursing through her body.
Her knees weakened, either from the blood leaving her body in steady gushes or the fingers pumping roughly inside her, and she convulsed, coming with a guttural howl - or was the sound coming from her attacker? She knew nothing in that moment but the need to escape the tight hold. It was impossible though, the grasp around her was too strong, keeping her in place with a vice grip, while at the same time preventing her from falling. Cosima had the weird impression that she was lifted in the air, that her body arched fully back to be supported entirely by the other woman, but that would be impossible, she's so frail, so tiny.
The fingers slipped out of her, and Cosima's weight was entirely anchored by the blonde. Her strength had completely abandoned her, and she was a lifeless doll in the stranger's arms, her neck lolling to the side after the attack was over. Her eyes barely opened when she was turned around, looking into the face before her, and she knew she had made a huge mistake. Ice blue eyes shone, seemingly possessing a light of their own as the creature licked the remains of blood, her blood, from exposed fangs. She tugged a corner of her mouth in a vicious grin even as the hand that came to cradle Cosima's cheek and keep her head up felt warm, soft, almost affectionately tender.
"I knew you'd be the right choice the moment I laid eyes on you months ago," the other woman said, pleased.
Cosima felt her senses leaving her, barely able to follow as a red nail sliced the skin of the top of a pale breast, a drop of blood sliding down the broken skin. The hand on the back of her head pulled her to the wound, Cosima's lips pressed against it. There was no movement from her lips, but the natural stream of the liquid made it taint her lips red, a few drops passing her lips and into her mouth. The moment her tongue registered the copper taste of blood, Cosima felt her strength return, different, more powerful than ever. From the brink of death, Cosima felt more alive than ever. Her muscles tensed suddenly, and her arms wrapped the small frame in front of her with a crushing hug, her throat starving for the blood pouring into her mouth, sucking eagerly.
Cosima growled, an animalistic sound drawn from her chest and with her new found strength she pushed the other woman back until they toppled over and dropped to the carpeted floor. Blinded by the bloodlust, she ignored the blonde's hands trying to push her away. Unsatisfied by the small amount of blood she could get from the small cut on the woman's breast, Cosima moved up her body, her teeth not yet fully formed into the new sharp shape, teared the skin of the neck beneath her.
"Cosima, stop!" The other woman shouted, but the demanding tone of her voice couldn't penetrate the whirling fever inside the brunette's mind.
She swallowed every drop of the liquid that poured from the wound, gushing into her mouth in a steady stream, the hands that tried to pull her away again were restrained by the wrists against the floor, effectively pinning the smaller woman down. The more she drank, the stronger she felt, every gulp going straight to her veins, increasing the power of the hold, the push of her body against the now weak form beneath her. Her thirst seemed endless, the more she drank the more she craved, and from some small part of her mind came the knowledge that she could very well drink her dry. The woman beneath her showed no sign of resistance, the body limp and still; the hands no longer struggling against her grasp and in that moment, thinking the stranger dead, Cosima rushed to take what little was left, her hands freed the grip on the blonde's and pull the small body to herself.
She had no idea how the other woman was still alive and strong enough to take the opening and push her away. Two hands against her chest sent her flying back against the floor violently.
Cosima opened her eyes wide as heavy pulls of air filled her lungs, the inhuman senses she now possessed taking in everything with a new and heightened awareness of all that surrounded her. The large room was filled with the smell of blood that somehow, after passing through her nasal canal, had become the most delicious scent. She licked her lips for the remains of the sticky liquid and caught her tongue on pointy fangs, finally fully formed. Her eyes landed on the woman still sprawled on the carpet. She didn't move at all but Cosima knew she was far from dead, she could hear the faint beat of a heart that she didn't think these sort of monsters possessed. In her mind, stories she'd heard whispered in fear of demons that roamed the night, on the prowl to satisfy their vile hunger.
She heard the other woman's laugh, weak and hoarse. "You'll soon find out that all that you've been told was fiction," the blonde said, raising slightly to support herself on one elbow while her other hand was pressed against the wound on her neck, blood slipping between the fingers and staining the expensive rug.
"What is this?" Cosima asked, looking down herself, bringing a tentative digit to run along her teeth. "Who are you?"
The small woman was starting to recover it seemed, getting to her feet. "We'll have several lifetimes for you to discover who I am, Cosima," she said, the teasing smile returning to her lips. "If you want to know my name, it's Shay," she was saying, drawing close to the brunette, "but that's hardly all I am."