Chapter Text
The New England chill crept into the old Victorian home as Bella dusted the mantle at a natural, human speed, listening to the protesting wood as the matriarch’s heels pressed into it, the quiet shuffling of the box of lotions she carried brushing against her porcelain arms, glass twinkling. The women that inhabited the home were beautifully flawless, enhanced by immortality. Bella’s once bird-like frame had evolved into curves and sharp edges, magnifying the natural beauty as her auburn hair tumbled in waves and swayed with her movement, electric yellow lightning eyes crackling in the ghost of every speck of dust. The insecurity of girlhood had fallen away, floating off like a dandelion on a spring day. Autumn brought in pain and reminded Bella of times lost, of things that even transformation couldn’t take away. Immortality was solitude, but her company made it easier.
Goldie was the elder, the matriarch in the ancient home, with Goldie pre-dating the home by a century. Goldie was born in the midst of the Saxon Wars, remembering the rule of Charlemagne and her own status as a heretic, something she preferred not to visit in discussion, her amber eyes eclipsing into stone. Goldie’s mother was viewed as a natural healer, which was against the newly religious views of the time. Goldie became nomadic, carrying her two children with her as she fled the persecution her mother faced. Around the age of 28, Goldie was attacked by another nomad, this time, a supernatural one. Goldie never saw her children again, cursed to walk the Earth without them by her side.
Bella adored Goldie, her warmth and spirit reminded her so much of his mother, Esme. Him, being the man she avoided talking about that inevitably led to her living in the spacious white Victorian with the wrap-around porch. Goldie’s partner was also one of Bella’s favorite people.
Grey was a beautiful woman, like any immortal, but her spirit made her stronger. Grey’s raven hair tumbled in corkscrew curls down her back, a contrast to her wife’s lush glossy wheat colored strands. The two women had found each other in the New World, with Goldie changing Grey after a failed witch trial execution in a nearby town in the early 1600s, hoping to save one person from the same fate her mother endured. The pair posed as sisters, orphans, or cousins; hiding their love from the spectators that saw only their beauty. They had married each other in secret living room affairs over the years, recommitting their love to each other, a golden, raw love that made Bella’s chest rip apart and ache while she smiled at the purity.
Cara was a different story, a bitter, malevolent immortal if there ever was one. She had been welcomed by the heads of house prior to Bella and lived in vanity and shallowness with her immortal status. Cara had been a merciless nomad prior to her initiation into the coven, a young vampire created in the 1950s. Her empathy was non-existent and her jaded edges were hard for Bella to stomach. She held a disdain for humans, a lack of connectedness the rest of the family had maintained after their respective changes. She didn’t remember how she came into immortality, but certainly carried scars of her life from before. It often lead to issues within the home.
The coven posed as a family in the sleepy Connecticut, a set of wives that had taken in two cousins of theirs to provide them work and a place to live. Grey and Goldie ran a small apothecary in the historic downtown district, selling natural salves, anti-aging lotions, and various other medicinal products and herbs. Their “witchy” appearance and dedication to skincare had helped shield them from observation or critique from the town, keeping them safe from exposure. Bella worked in the shop, bottling tonics and pressing salve into tins while chatting with the townspeople.
“Good morning, Bella, are you feeling ready for stocking today?” Grey’s smoky voice floated in the foyer, watching her wife carry the box of product to their inconspicuous SUV. Grey lit the fire place with a gentle wave of her palm, igniting a flame in the hearth.
“Morning, ready as ever,” Bella chuckled, turning on her heel and smoothing out the black cashmere sweater that clung to her now womanly figure.
A door slamming, the ruffle of a mini skirt, and high heels clacking brought in Cara, a rage of rolling thunder as always.
“Bella, did you finally dust that nasty old vase? I swear this house looks more and more geriatric, next we will have plastic on the couches.”
“Well, that’ll certainly make the clean up less for when you decide you want to massacre a group of human men again,” Grey spat, killing the fire with her hand and heading to the car.
Through the air, the china vase flew from the mantle and slammed into the back of Grey’s head, a wild smirk plastered on Cara’s perfect features, looking like a portraiture of the Cheshire Cat.
“Just because I like men doesn’t make me bad, Grey, can’t knock what you haven’t tried!” Cara’s screech resounded after the older woman, taunting and teasing.
“Well, I’ve been there and I don’t leave my food all over the place,” Bella remarked, voice flat.
“Okay, vestal virgin, please tell me all about it,” Cara retorted, looking Bella up and down.
Bella was used to the constant mood swings and provocations of the woman, heading to the car with the rest of the coven. The drive to town was short and silent, humming coming from the car’s stereo near where Grey and Goldie’s hands were interwoven, silver wedding bands breeding a dancing silver spirit across the car’s roof. Upon arrival, Goldie and Grey began stocking the apothecary’s shelves while Bella mixed in the backroom, aiming to finish a new batch of elderberry syrup in time for the quickly approaching flu season, a staple humans loved to buy. Cara sat annoyed behind the counter, the sound of her sighing amplified by the vampires’ sensitive ears.
A smell flooded the vampires’ noses around lunchtime, a light herbal and flower scent that only could have signaled the presence of other vampires. If an undead heart could beat, Bella’s would have jumped through her ribcage, this was most rare. Upon another deep breath, Bella smelled a light citrus and a delicate sage scent, flooding her olfactory glands with deep pain.
“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Dr. Cullen and this is my lovely wife, Esme.”
The giant jar of rosemary that was held in Bella’s hands crashed, shattering glass across the tile floor of the backroom.