Chapter 2 The Mother In law from hell

"We run," Vladimir said. "Very fast."

Sable did not need to be told twice. She grabbed Poppy's hand with her free one, and the three of them bolted toward the back of the bookstore. Behind them, the front window shattered. Shards of frosted glass exploded across the wooden floor, and a cold wind swept through the shop, knocking over a display of romance novels.

Poppy screamed. "My books!"

"Poppy, focus!" Sable shouted, yanking her friend along.

They crashed through the back door and stumbled into the small alley behind the shop. The morning sun was bright and warm, which was a small mercy. Vladimir hissed and threw his cloak over his head like a dramatic toddler avoiding bath time.

"I hate mornings," he muttered.

"You're four hundred years old," Sable said, pulling him into the shadows of the alley wall. "You'd think you'd be used to it by now."

"One does not simply get used to the sun, Sable. It's a giant burning ball of fire." Vladimir said.

"Can we please stop arguing about the sun and focus on the terrifying vampire woman who just froze my window?" Sable snapped. She peeked around the corner. The woman in the black cloak was still standing in front of the bookstore, examining the shattered window with mild curiosity, like a cat that had just knocked a vase off a table and was waiting to see what happened next.

Poppy pressed herself against the wall, her face pale. "Who is she, Vladimir? Why is she here?"

Vladimir rubbed his temples. He looked like a man who had just remembered he had forgotten to pay his taxes for four centuries. "That is my mother. Her name is Carmilla Draven. She is the Queen of the Northern Vampire Court, and she has been trying to marry me off to a suitable noblewoman for the past two hundred years."

Sable stared at him. "You have a mother?"

"Everyone has a mother, Sable." His voice seemed steady.

"I thought vampires were created, not born." Sable said terrifyingly.

"Common misconception. We are born. We just age very slowly and then we stop aging entirely. And then we annoy our mothers for eternity." Vladimir responded.

Poppy let out a nervous giggle. "That sounds... nice?"

"It is not nice," Vladimir said. "It is a living nightmare and now she has sensed the bond between us, which means she thinks you are my mate, which means she is going to try to either kill you, test you, or marry us off in a dark ceremony beneath a blood moon."

Sable blinked. "Which one is the worst option?"

"All of them," Vladimir said. "Equally."

From the front of the store, Carmilla's voice drifted through the broken window. It was smooth and cold, like honey poured over ice. "Vladimir, darling. I know you're back there. Come out, come out. I just want to talk to the little witch."

Sable's grip on Vladimir's arm tightened. "She wants to talk to me?"

"She wants to evaluate you," Vladimir corrected. "She wants to see if you are worthy of her son. If she decides you're not, she will politely suggest that you leave town and never return. If you refuse, she will less politely suggest it with her fangs."

Poppy whimpered. "I don't like this plan."

"There is no plan," Sable said. She looked at Vladimir. "Is there a plan?"

Vladimir was quiet for a moment. He looked at the alley around them, then at the back door of the bookstore, then at the sky. A small, sly smile crept across his face.

"Actually," he said slowly, "there might be one."

Sable raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"Your bakery," Vladimir said. "The one you've been building in the back of the bookstore. The one you've been hiding from me because you think I'll make fun of it."

Sable's face went red. "How do you know about that?"

"I can smell the butter, Sable. I can smell it from my apartment across the street. It haunts my dreams." He murmured.

"It's just a small project," Sable mumbled.

"It's a brilliant project," Vladimir said. He grabbed her shoulders. His eyes were bright with excitement. "We invite my mother inside, sit her down and we serve her the best pastries she has ever tasted."

Sable stared at him. "You want to fight the Vampire Queen with pastries?"

"I want to fight her with your pastries," Vladimir corrected. "She has spent four hundred years eating cold, tasteless blood porridge. She has no idea what real food tastes like. If you can impress her, she might actually leave us alone."

Poppy's eyes lit up. "That's genius."

"That's insane," Sable said.

"That too," Vladimir agreed. "But it's our only option."

Sable looked at the alley wall, slowly looked at the back door. She looked at Vladimir's hopeful, slightly desperate face and then she sighed.

"Fine," she said. "But if she tries to bite me, I'm using you as a shield."

"Deal," Vladimir said.

They crept back inside the bookstore. The front room was a mess and glasses was everywhere. The wind had scattered books across the floor. Carmilla was now standing inside the shop, running one long finger along the spine of a dusty novel.

She turned as they entered. Her smile was sharp and beautiful and terrifying all at once. "There you are. I was beginning to think you would run away."

Vladimir stepped forward. He straightened his coat. He lifted his chin. "Mother. Welcome to The Wandering Page. May I offer you a seat?"

Carmilla's eyes flicked to Sable, then to Poppy, then back to Sable. "How polite. You've learned manners. I'm impressed."

"I've had four hundred years to practice," Vladimir said dryly.

Carmilla walked toward them. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor. She stopped in front of Sable. She was much taller than Sable had expected and her eyes were not just red. They were glowing.

"So," Carmilla said, tilting her head. "You are the witch who has captured my son's attention."

Sable swallowed hard. "I'm Sable. I run the bookstore."

"I can see that." Carmilla glanced around the messy shop. "It's very... quaint."

"Thank you," Sable said.

"It wasn't a compliment." Carmilla said.

Sable's eye twitched. "I…. I… know."

Carmilla smiled, the kind of smile a shark gives a seal. "I sense a bond between you and my son. A blood bond, do you know what that means?"

Sable shook her head. "No."

"It means," Carmilla said, leaning closer, "that you are either his destined mate, or you are a very clever witch who has cast a spell on him. Either way, I am here to find out which one is true."

Vladimir stepped between them. "Mother, please. There's no need for dramatics."

"Dramatics?" Carmilla laughed a cold, tinkling sound. "Darling, I am the Queen of the Northern Court. Dramatics are my specialty."

Sable took a deep breath. She looked at Vladimir, slowly she turned her gaze at Poppy, then at the vampire queen standing in her bookstore and then she had an idea.

"Your Majesty," Sable said, curtsying slightly. "I understand you have questions. But before we talk, may I offer you some refreshment?"

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. "Refreshment?"

"Yes." Sable smiled. It was a warm, genuine smile. "I've been working on a new recipe. A pastry. I call it the Midnight Rose. It's made with dark chocolate, cherry, and a whisper of moon magic."

Carmilla's eyes narrowed. "You want to feed me?"

"I want to impress you," Sable said. "If you're going to judge me, at least do it on a full stomach."

The room went silent. Vladimir held his breath. Poppy clutched the counter.

Carmilla stared at Sable for a long, tense moment and then, slowly, she smiled.

"Very well," Carmilla said. She settled into a velvet armchair near the fireplace. "Bring me your pastry, little witch. Let us see what you're made of."

Sable nodded. She turned and walked toward the back kitchen. But as she passed Vladimir, she leaned in close.

"Vladimir," she whispered.

"Yees?" Vladimir responded.

"If this doesn't work, I'm blaming you." She said.

"Fair," he whispered.

Sable pushed open the kitchen door. The warm smell of chocolate and cherries wrapped around her like a hug. She walked to the counter, where a single pastry sat cooling on a rack. It was dark, glossy, and beautiful. It looked like a rose made of midnight.

She picked it up. She placed it on a silver plate. And then, very carefully, she whispered a spell into the chocolate. A warming spell. A comfort spell. A spell that made people feel safe.

She carried the plate back into the front room. Carmilla was waiting. Her red eyes gleamed.

Sable set the plate down in front of her. "The Midnight Rose, Your Majesty."

Carmilla picked up the pastry. She examined it, sniffed it and then, very slowly, she took a bite.

The room went silent.

Carmilla chewed. Her eyes widened, her hand trembled and then, very quietly, she said something no one expected. "This is... the best thing I have ever eaten."

Sable's heart leaped. "Really?"

Carmilla took another bite. Then another. She closed her eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "It tastes like... sunshine, like warmth, like something I haven't felt in centuries."

Vladimir stared at his mother. His jaw dropped. "Mother? Are you... crying?"

"I am not crying," Carmilla said, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I am... experiencing. There is a difference."

Sable smiled. She reached out and gently touched Carmilla's hand. "I'm glad you like it."

Carmilla looked at her. Her red eyes were soft now. Almost kind. "You have a gift, little witch. A rare gift."

"Thank you," Sable said.

Carmilla set the plate down. She straightened her cloak. She looked at Vladimir. Then at Sable. Then back at Vladimir.

"Very well," she said. "I approve."

Vladimir blinked. "You... approve?"

"I approve of the bond. I approve of the match. I approve of the bakery you are clearly hiding in the back room." Carmilla stood up. She smoothed her dress. "You have my blessing."

Sable's mouth fell open. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Carmilla said. She walked toward the door. But before she left, she turned back. Her eyes glittered with mischief. "However."

Sable's heart sank. "However?"

"I will be visiting often for the pastries." Carmilla smiled. It was a real smile this time. "And I expect a discount."

Sable laughed. She couldn't help it. "Deal."

Carmilla nodded. She stepped out into the morning sun which, apparently, did not bother her at all and disappeared down the street.

The room was silent for a long moment and then Poppy let out a huge breath. "That was the most terrifying thing I have ever witnessed."

Vladimir collapsed into a chair. He looked exhausted. "You have no idea."

Sable walked over and sat down next to him. She was shaking but she was also smiling.

"You know," she said, "when I woke up this morning, I thought the worst thing that could happen was running out of flour."

Vladimir looked at her. A small smile tugged at his lips. "And now?"

"Now I have a vampire mother-in-law who wants a discount on pastries."

Vladimir laughed. It was a real laugh, warm and surprised. "Welcome to the family."

Sable leaned her head against his shoulder. She was tired. But she was happy.

And then the front door opened. A tall man stepped inside, he was dressed in a white suit. He had golden eyes. And he was holding a flaming sword.

"Excuse me," the man said, looking around the messy shop. "I'm looking for Sable Nightshade, I'm her father."

Sable's blood ran cold, Vladimir sat up straight, his fangs extended.

Poppy dropped the tray of scones ag

ain and Sable stared at the man in the white suit. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"My father is dead."

The man smiled. His golden eyes glowed. "No, my dear. I'm very much alive and I've come to take you home."