Myrrh, Earth, and Red Wine

In some forgotten corner of the world, squeezed between bakeries, bookshops, and premium cafes, lies Bill’s auto mechanic shop. Across the cobblestone road from Bill’s is a peculiar floral shop owned by Leena. Her dark licorice hair and wine-colored lips demand a second glance. Leena’s voice is melancholy when she speaks, hiding her secrets behind gentle smiles. The townspeople often spoke of her enigmatic beauty and her strangely eternal blooms.

Roses were by far Leena’s favorite flower. The soft petals and sharp stems reminded Leena of herself—lovely yet dangerous. She pruned each rose with affection, often pricking her fingers on their thorns as she placed them in crystal vases. Lately, she found herself delightfully distracted by Jack, a youthful, hardy man in Bill’s employ. The care with which Jack turned his silver wrenches under old Cadillacs reminded Leena of her younger self, in a different world, in a different place.

As she pruned the newest batch of heart roses, Leena wondered why Jack’s lunch was always a single slice of bread with cheese, unlike his colleagues, whose wives brought them homemade meals. She smiled as she noticed the way Jack laughed, the way his shoulders quaked with each chuckle—until she looked down at the blood trickling from her fingers.

Darn it. Not again, Leena thought as she put her fingers to her lips, deciding it was time for lunch. She turned to grab the towel from her counter when the little bell above her door rang.

A speechless Jack stood in her doorway, sunlight highlighting his awed expression.

"Hello, what can I do for you today?" Leena asked, feeling heat blossom under Jack’s lingering gaze.

Jack couldn’t seem to speak. His heart was caught somewhere in his throat.

"H-Hi. I’m Jack, from across the street. I’m looking for lilies," he said when words found him again.

"Oh, perfect! We’ve just got fresh ones. Which kind would you like?"

"There are different kinds?" Jack asked, perplexed.

With a smile on her lips, Leena began to ramble on about the varieties of lilies, knowing Jack hadn’t a clue.

"My favorites are the Asiatic ones," Leena offered, seeing Jack's furrowed brows.

He swallowed.

"Then I’ll take those. You look like someone with great taste," Jack replied.

Heat bloomed on Leena’s cheeks, something she hadn’t felt in some time.

Leena took the Asiatic lilies and arranged them for Jack, winding pink tissue paper around the bouquet.

"They’re for a blind date my sister set up for me," Jack said as he placed the money in Leena’s palm.

"Well, I’m sure she’ll love these," Leena assured him. As Jack made his way to the door, wrapped lilies in hand, he paused to glance at her once more.

"Thank you, Leena," Jack said, then exited the little flower shop.

The next day, Jack flew into the shop bearing a look of bewilderment. He placed both hands on the counter, his forwardness making Leena grip the recently plucked carnations tightly.

"Is everything alright? Did she like them?" Leena asked, worried something was wrong with the last batch.

A dashing smile parted Jack’s lips. "I came to say thank you. She loved them. I’ll need more for our second date. I’m thinking Tiger lilies this time?"

Leena laughed. So did Jack.

So began a weekly exchange of lilies, jokes, wit, and glances. Leena found each interaction with Jack to be the jewel of her day, though she couldn’t fully understand why. He was buying flowers for another woman, yet she found his happiness infectious.

Perhaps it was because Leena had long forgotten her own happiness—in another time, with another man.

On the day Jack came in for the trumpet lilies, he wore a tuxedo and was ready to propose. Leena arranged the last bouquet with care and handed it off to him, accidentally brushing her hand against his arm. The electricity between them was palpable. Leena quelled her heart, knowing the next time she saw Jack, he would be with his fiancée, and she’d be arranging their wedding florals.

"Thank you, Leena. You’ve been a great friend," he said. A bittersweet farewell flickered in Jack’s eyes, silently questioning why such an enchanting woman was alone. A knot built in Leena's stomach as she watched Jack disappear out of the shop. Despite her initial attraction to Jack, she hoped happiness would find him.

Leena prepared to close as dusk approached. Her routine of disposing of garbage, composting, and refilling vases kept her grounded in time.

Another ding on the bell alluded to one last patron. Or, in this case, three.

Before her stood three women—blonde, brunette, and crimson-haired. Fear trickled down Leena's spine at their unnatural beauty.

"Hello, ladies. What brings you in tonight?" Leena asked, despite her unease.

The brunette looked at Leena, a terrible smile parting her sharp, ivory teeth.

"You, my dear," answered the blonde before licking her lips.

In the blink of an eye, the three women surrounded Leena—fangs bared, talons drawn, eyes bloodshot.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" Leena barked, feeling her own secret emerging between her teeth. Leena couldn’t remember the last time she felt them—her fangs. "Oh! A fighter! How fun!" exclaimed the blonde, slicing her claws at Leena's face.

Hot blood poured from the gash on Leena’s cheek.

"Wait, Ysenia!" yelled the redhead. "We aren’t rabid dogs, sisters."

The older woman reached for Leena’s cheek and dabbed her finger in the blood gushing from the wound. "Who are you?" Leena demanded, both fearful and curious. Leena had never met another like herself, besides the Count.

The redhead shot Leena a frigid glance. She seemed older than the others.

"I am called Sigrid. I believe you know my husband."

Sigrid put her scarlet fingertip to her lips. "Mmm. You are exquisite. He’s always had great taste."

"I don’t know who your husband is," answered Leena, sure this was a misunderstanding. She noticed her pruning scissors by the roses.

"Don’t be dense, girl. He made you," Sigrid stated.

A memory, long locked away, flickered in Leena’s mind—soft amber eyes, porcelain skin, a captivating smile, a searing pain, a taste of blood, a broken heart, and two centuries of longing.

"The Count," Leena whispered, snatching the scissors behind her back. "Your jealousy is misplaced. I haven't seen the Count in two hundred years."

Bloodshot eyes widened as a cacophony of laughter escaped their cavernous mouths.

"Jealousy?" Sigrid laughed. "No, stupid girl. You have our immortality. We cannot die, but we can age," she hissed. "The more of you peasants he turns, the older and uglier we become," Aleana seethed. "You are quite beautiful. Perhaps your flesh will work better than the others. Now, be a doll and just die. Haven't you had enough of this lonely existence? I’m sure he’s already forgotten you."

Leena backed away, her fangs still pointed. "How did you find me?"

"My father was the sultan’s tracker. I followed the last unfortunate little bird he turned. She sang about your shop. Then I came here and found a tasty mechanic. The lilies went great with supper. Thank you," Ysenia answered, smiling.

In a flash, in an instant, in the second it takes lightning to hit the ocean and kill sea life, Leena drove the tips of her pruning scissors into Ysenia’s chest. Her smile turned to cold shock as she disintegrated into ash.

A morbid sound escaped Aleana and Sigrid as Leena bolted for the back door, toward Bill, who sat atop his toolbox, blowing cigarette smoke into the night.

Leena’s ancient heartbeat against her chest as she begged Bill for Jack’s location.

"Please, Bill. Jack is in danger," Leena cried.

Bill looked confused.

"Jack’s a good man. He’s with his new fiancée and her sisters. But if you must, his house is the blue door on the left on Merry Lane."

With that, Leena flew to Merry Lane, finding Jack’s blue door ajar, candlelight flickering within. She called Jack’s name, but her only reply was the coppery smell of blood and the hammering of her pulse. Leena feared an innocent had to pay the price for her immortality—a burden she thought was her own. She called Jack a second time, yet no response.

She could hear the creatures’ screams drawing near.

Leena desperately called for Jack once more. Silence. Her heart sank.

Suddenly, a thud and a groan echoed from the stairs, and Leena raced toward the sound. Jack’s body lay twisted like a driftwood branch, puncture wounds like freckles on his skin.

"Lee-nah?" he grunted breathlessly, his cracked, white lips barely moving.

"Jack. I’m so sorry," Leena wept, holding onto his fading warmth.

“No. Leena,” Jack gasps, “she... loved them. Her sisters loved them too...”

Jack's death was certain. An idea, wild like roadside poppies, sprung in Leena. Teeth against skin, palm pooling blood, a gulping sound and Jack is clutching Leena's hand as he devoured her blood hungrily

Suddenly, his body erupted in violent trembles. Leena anchored Jack as she remembered her own metamorphosis.

Jack’s eyes fluttered when the shaking stopped, a crimson smile on his lips.

“Leena,” he whispered, “you’re so beautiful from this angle.”

Leena laughed. So did Jack.

A darkness flashed in the room. A man of eternal youth stood there. Onyx hair slicked back, a petticoat over his vest, a chained watch in his front pocket. Leena’s chest tightened at the sight of her lost love of two centuries.

“My Leena,” his voice like trickling water, “ever the sweetest rose.”

Leena froze at the Count’s embrace, yet her body weakened, remembering the smell of myrrh, earth, and red wine. “Count,” she said breathlessly.

The Count’s eyes softened, a gleaming smile parting his velvet lips, holding both passion and peril. “I must admit, I’m surprised. I did not think you a killer,” he replied.

“I had to defend myself,” protested Leena.

The Count laid a hand on Leena’s shoulders, another on her cheek, his movements graceful and fluid. "The blame is mine alone,” he said, towering over her.

The cocking of a gun drew their attention as they turned to face a terrified Jack.

“Put the weapon down, changeling. It will not kill me,” the Count asserted. Jack’s body obeyed. The Count’s amber eyes were on Leena again, growing seemingly darker with passing time. “Be my bride, Leena,” he said tenderly, leaning closer. Leena could feel the Count's magnetic pull intensify once more. It had faded in his absence, but now its power was undeniable again.

“Be one of my wives. You’ll see the world through my eyes. You’ll topple kingdoms by my side.” He looked at Leena like she was the only woman he’d ever known.

“Regardless of what Sigrid said, I could never forget you, Leena.”

“That’s news to me,” Leena shot back incredulously. “Two hundred years is a long time to be gone.”

The Count smiled, his eyes drawing her in like before.

“Time is lost to me, and I apologize for leaving you. Come with me now. You will be able to call me to your side whenever your heart desires.”

Leena pondered the Count’s proposal. Could she spend eternity with the man who had captured her heart for the last two centuries? He was her maker; he would always have her love. “What about Jack?” Leena questioned.

“He could cease to exist with the snap of my finger,” the Count replied coolly.

Leena reeled. She couldn’t lose Jack again. She loved the fleeting moments of happiness he gave her. Their mundanity was magical, even freeing. Leena couldn’t lose that.

“I can’t be your wife. I want to be free. I want to live. And I want to love and be loved, unlike those creatures clinging to the memory of a youth squandered by the pursuit of it,” Leena said.

Something glinted in his ancient honey eyes that resembled sadness.

“That wounds me, Leena,” he dropped his hand from Leena’s cheek, “but if you wish to fly,” he whispered, “then be free, my little bird.”

The Count teleported backward with a snap—his body suspended in the air.

“We will meet again. Our souls are tethered,” the Count said, a timeless smile on his regal face. “I will keep my wives away as long as I can, but immortality has its limitations. Do not linger anywhere.”

Another snap—and Jack’s house was spotless once more. Leena could smell chicken and beets on the dining room table. Nothing was out of place save for the blood on Jack and Leena. The Count was gone, returning to the realm of dreams and nightmares.

Jack looked at Leena.

“What happened?” Jack asked, his shirt a canvas of red flowers.

“I’ll explain when we get out of here,” Leena replied.

###

On the road somewhere in the Mediterranean, where sunshine warms the ocean, there exists a mobile flower shop run by a peculiar couple named Jack and Leena. They spend their days selling roses by the ocean and renovating their RV.

Their futures are unknown. Their past, a mystery.