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The Blossom mansion loomed over her head in the moonlight. In the daylight it looked relatively normal (only relatively since the Blossoms cloud never be normal. It's like extravagant theatrics were ingrained into their blood), but during night time it started to look much creepier. Veronica was used to large houses, but this seemed uncanny, like all the empty space next to her could be overtaken by shadowed creatures at any moment.
She pulled her coat closer to her waist, and knocked on the heavy door in front of her.
Soon Cheryl's voice sang: "Well, look who it is? I've been waiting for this moment."
For a moment, she wondered how Cheryl had gotten to the door that quickly. It's like she could sense her arrival. Maybe she really could. With ultra-sensitive hearing or maybe the smell of her blood, rushing beneath the surface of her skin.
"I suppose you know why I am here then," she looked straight into her eyes. Cold. As expected.
"Why don't you enlighten me?" the ends of her lips perked up minutely, "It's much nicer to hear it from your own mouth,"
Of course it was. And while Veronica was here to bargain, the cold, humid air, the ominous atmosphere and this show of power was kind of getting to her.
"Why don't we go indoors first? Grab some tea, maybe?" she flashed Cheryl a charismatic smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that," she smirked, visibly enjoying this dynamic, "why should I waste my precious time, when you could just spit out whatever you're about to beg for-"
"Begging's a strong word," Veronica cut her off, "and you don't want any prying eyes or ears on us, do you?"
"Come inside," she stepped aside, letting Veronica enter through the door.
Cheryl led them through the halls of her family mansion. They had a similar feeling to the yard. It's probably just the centuries of the undead roaming around. Of course, the Blossoms wouldn't die, they're vampires, who can only die from the light of day, but they still had servants, some of whom were bound to mortals, bound to be drained sooner or later. Veronica gulped, hoping her tale won't end that way.
She didn't think Cheryl would kill her. Sure, she was a drama queen and an extremist at times, but she was… good. The Blossoms being vampires was a bit of an open secret at Riverdale, just like the southside was mostly inhabited by werewolves or the sisters of quiet mercy were demonesses. Cheryl certainly spent a lot of time with humans, for such a powerful supernatural. She also rebelled against her family (a feeling Veronica was familiar with), who were known for being especially traditionalist and mightier-than-thou. So, stupid or not, Veronica was laying her life in Cheryl's hands, because they're the same, because they're friends and because she really needed to.
They ended up in Cheryl's bedroom, which was larger than her own room here in Riverdale. It was more comparable to her old home in New York, if anything. As expected of the other girl, it was chic, gothic and draped in blood-red silk. Elegant cushions and pillows decorated the many armchairs and couches, as well as the king-sized bed. A few wiry, tall candles lit up the room, as well as the seemingly not that old lamp (seems like actually being able to see beats aesthetics in this case).
"My parents won't interrupt us here," she fell back onto one of the sofas. Behind it was an oil painting of Riverdale's grand lake. Veronica wondered if it was Cheryl' s own creation. If it was a tribute to Jason.
"May I?" Veronica asked for permission, before taking a seat. After receiving a nod, she sat on the same couch at an appropriate distance. She was here on business after all,"so, Cheryl. My father has been getting involved in some rather questionable dealings lately, even more so than usual. I can only extrapolate that it has something to do with immortality. He hasn't been talking to your family, I'm certain. I believe he's getting involved with some out-of-town clan, maybe not vampires at all. My point is, I can' t let him go unchecked. He's already roaming free based on money and status alone. Adding immortality into the mix will only embellish it. I can't let him go unchecked," she locked eyes with Cheryl, trying to look through her facade, into the part of them that was uncannily similar, "Cheryl Blossom, I need you to make me immortal."
"Oh, Veronica," she answered in her half-mocking sing-song voice, "for someone so naturally vicious, you sure surprise me with your naivety sometimes. What makes you think immortality will help you? You want to be turned first and gain the upper hand that way? Newsflash, it doesn't work like that. Your daddy will be playing by his own rules either way."
"Good thing I am my father's daughter then," she snapped in the middle, "I will do anything and stop at nothing to ensure peace for Riverdale. A peace for Betty, Archie, Jughead and you as well."
"Riverdale can never be peaceful.We are a town filled to the brim with otherkin monsters and mythical beasts. Your father isn't all that high on our list of problems," she gave her a cynical smile.
"He will climb, Cheryl, you know he will," she scooted closer, "if he keeps going at the same pace, in a century, maybe less, Riverdale will have two tyrannical vampire bloodlines. Hell, maybe not just Riverdale! It could be all of America! Or even the world! You have to fight back. Maybe we can-," she placed her palm on her upper thigh, "-together."
For a few moments the wind gushing outside was the only source of sound other than Veronica's rushing heartbeat. Cheryl seemed to be considering. Her forehead furrowed in thought and her eyes glossed over slightly. Her smirk ran away from her face, leaving it melancholic and regretful.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, still not quite there.
"I'm as sure as I'll ever be," ice cut through her voice, "as I ever can be."
"The bite is a curse, Veronica."
"It won't be for me," she placed her hand on Cheryl's cheek, stroking it lightly, "for me, the bite is a gift."
Veronica looked at her, a spark of hope glinting in her eyes: "Will you do it then? Turn me?"
Her lips pursed together in a tin line, and she averted her eyes: "If you promise you won't regret it. I don't want you to come back here, wailing about all your friends dying while you're stuck being a youthful, melancholic flower forever."
"I already told you," Veronica rose from the bed, "I'm willing."
She reached for the buttons on the top of her blouse, undoing them one by one. Her white satin blouse dropped from her shoulder as she tossed her hair aside, exposing her collarbones - as pale and luxurious as porcelain - as well as a black, lacey bra strap. Her gaze dropped to Cheryl's hesitant expression, as she ordered: "Now come here. Bite me."
Cheryl's eyes fixated on her bare neck, her eyes darkening. If it had been someone else, some other creature, some other vampire, Veronica might've felt scared. Instead she just felt at ease.
It was a pure demonstration of the inhumane difference between man and its predator. Truly, the only time she witnessed Cheryl's marvel, in more than just her snobbish holier-than-thou attitude.
She inhaled sharply, seeming going back to the way she usually was. Still intimidating, and firm, just less like she could give in to her blood-thirsty urges. "Well, if that's what you want. I'm sure it is after that obvious provocation," she flashed a mockery of a smile, "unless it was your body not your blood you were flaunting."
"Isn't nude skin appealing to vampires?" she taunted back, flipping her hair again.
Cheryl's fingertips ran over her throat, cold to the touch. "Food doesn't pose, does it?" her voice dropped to a whisper. Or more like a hiss.
Veronica suppressed a shiver. Cheryl was coming closer and closer, and she instinctively took a step backwards. That continued a few times, until her back hit the bookcase. The vampiress didn't touch her, just leaned in, too close for comfort, and flashed her the acute fangs between her lips.
"What is it? Cold feet?" she stared right through her.
"No," Veronica placed her palm on her collarbone, pulling her closer, "I still want it."
"I don't think you do. You're afraid. You should… reconsider," she moved away, giving Veronica the step away from the now-slightly-tilted bookshelf
"It's scary because it's new, not because it's bad," she tried to argue.
"Newsflash, getting your blood sucked is bad! Sometimes humans faint from blood loss. It's a bite, not a hickey!"
"Well, you were also purposely trying to scare me! I'm sure you could've just sunk your teeth in without all the theatrics!"
"I don't think you know what you're signing up for," she tilted her head, glaring coldly, "it's not just immortality. It's having to drink blood from living, breathing and often horrified, helpless humans. It's becoming a monster. Just because your dad's becoming one, doesn't mean you have to follow."
"You're not a monster, Cheryl," she immediately stepped forward, grabbing her hands, "you're good."
She didn't pull her hands away, but yet she still looked at Veronica like she didn't believe her.
"I mean it. You may have a bit of an attitude, but by no means are you evil. You spend so much time with humans, despite being raised to think of us as lesser. It- that's why I came to you. I trust you. I trust you so much, even when all of my instincts were screaming at me to run away from the front door, away from the haunting hallways and away from you."
She spoke again, her voice higher, more vulnerable: "Well, why didn't you? The bite is a curse."
"Well, I need you to curse me really badly."
Cheryl's gaze dropped to her neck again, pondering and full of doubt. She looked back up, like her eyes were on the edge of watering: "I don't want to do that. I don't want to feel your body turn cold as I hold you. I don't want to murder you!"
"It's not murder," she stepped closer, "it's saving the world. And it's saving me."
She pulled Cheryl with her as she stepped backwards, trapping her back against the bookshelf once more, hoping that the other girl would take the lead once more. "Come on."
She looked down once more, her fangs flashing once more through the gap between her lips. She leaned down, but not towards her neck. Their lips locked in a fierce kiss. Veronica threw her arms around her neck, holding on to it like her life depended on it. The touch, both her neck and her lips, were ice cold. It felt like kissing a corpse. But her body was going to be dead soon enough anyways, so it didn't matter. It was just a passing thought.
The fangs, predictably, were another surprising element. They scratched her lips, drawing drops of blood. The pain was almost unregistrable, but the taste, soon enough on her tongue, was metallic. It was sickeningly sweet as well.
They pulled apart, both breathless and wanting. Veronica slid her hands downwards, resting on Cheryl's shoulder, and the other one on where her unbeating heart should be.
"My blood tastes very sweet in your mouth," she said.
"Good," she pushed Veronica's head to the side, exposing the area under her jawline, "get used to the taste."
Veronica braced herself, but, while it's possible to prepare mentally, it's impossible to not scream when you're being killed. The fangs dug into her flesh, breaking open her skin and began draining her.
Cheryl hadn't been wrong about the need to faint. Her vision blurred, and her legs lost the strength to stand. The bookcase and the firm hands around her waist were the only things keeping her from collapsing. She wasn't sure when exactly she died. She just drifted to sleep.
But Cheryl had made one misprediction. She held no regrets.
☽ ☾
The first thing Veronica saw when waking was the black oak ceiling of Thornhill. She felt too sick to sit up and look around fully, so she just laid there for a bit. The events that had transpired were clear in her mind, but they felt like a distant memory. It was strange to look back on such an intense moment so apathetically.
She heard footsteps and the floor creaking. It was a visitor, and she only had one guess for who it could be.
"Veronica," Cheryl's voice held a rare hint of glee, "you're awake."
"Indeed I am. Although, I still feel like I'm asleep."
She felt weight plop down on the edge of her bed and soon Cheryl's face came into view. Her face was clean of makeup, and her hair was held together by a hairclip. Veronica had never seen her so at home before.
"I thought you might never wake up, sleeping beauty. "
"Did you try kissing me as well?"
"I'm not necrophiliac, thank you very much."
"Well, we're both undead now," Veronica half-joked, "I can pretend to fall asleep once more."
"No need," Cheryl pecked her on the cheek, "you should rest. It's the middle of the day, so, unless you bought a secret sun umbrella with you, you won't be able to go home either way."
"Noted," she rubbed her eyes.
Cheryl was about to get up, go back to whatever daily activities she had been doing before, but Veronica's fingers quickly found her wrist, holding her down.
"Thank you."
She hesitated with her answer. "You said it's a gift."
Veronica was happy to find no regrets in her voice as well.