Agnes stood at the crossroads two mornings later, her long hair pinned into a bun and hidden beneath a simple, white cap. She had been given a plain dress to wear, made up in grey cloth. In her right hand, she held a heavy suitcase. In her left hand, she held an open umbrella.

Rain pattered on its surface and fell around her like a veil.

Though the day was grey and hazy with fog, she still had a clear view of the city. Her home, Cordis was a collection of twisting spires and spiraled roads and ramshackle homes. Its old stone roads were caked in filth, scattered with market stalls and playing children. Agnes had actually walked from the compound, near the city’s center, to the eastern gate, just to see it all one more time before she left.

What a wonderful place. It was as mangy as a mutt and as beautiful as a nightingale's song. She could not let it fall, empty and bloodless, to an early death. She had walked past falling-apart mansions, old schools, churches playing with music. Its main street had been lined with vendors from everywhere. With her werewolf senses, she could smell each and every spice cooking in great pots, could hear the calls of salespeople, could see the flutter of fine cloth and weaving. Her mother had met her father on this street. She had been born in small house only a few paces away, had played on the roads, kicking makeshift balls back and forth, chasing other children around. 

She must protect this place from those who would do it harm. She must.

When the carriage came to pick her up, empty of any rider, she shut her umbrella and stepped onto it with determination. Despite her annoyance at the mission she had been given, in the end, Ariadne was right. Agnes was the best woman for the job. It was duty above desire.

It would always be duty above desire.

The carriage road on through the rain for some time. Agnes watched out the window with interest; Clan Luna and Clan Silva both had spent years scouting these woods for strongholds, yet none had ever been found. How Ariadne had managed to communicate with Lady Rosemary at all was a mystery. Then again, Agnes had never paid much attention to her spy network before. 

They traveled a familiar road for some time, before swinging randomly and distressingly into the trees. Agnes half expected them to crash immediately. But the heart-wrenching moment ended with a flash of starlit silver, and then they were upon a new road, drawn through a forest of old evergreens.

The incline grew steep, and steeper still. Agnes recognized the craggy peaks of the mountain range that intersected Cordis. As the carriage curved around a path and daylight faded, she caught her first glimpse of the castle on the mountain.

It was an eerie, ancient thing, built from a grey stone that was nearly black, with square towers lining its outer walls. Within, there was a dark spire, scraping against the starry night, its warped windows dimly alight. 

Then the carriage turned, and it was once more out of sight. Instead, Agnes caught a view of the great wood that rested just outside of Cordis. 

She remembered rushing through those woods on newly discovered paws, the crunch of fresh-caught prey beneath her canines.

The feeling had never quite left her, even after she had disciplined herself so thoroughly she would never unintentionally transform ever again, not even under the full moon.

Finally, the carriage drew near to the castle, passing through a rusting gate. The dirt road became a cobblestone bridge, which drew Agnes over a deep river, and brought her to a fountain just outside the castle.

As the carriage shrieked to a halt, its door squeaked open. Agnes took her suitcase from the floor beside her and looked outside.

Standing just by the carriage, his palm raised as though to help her exit, was a pale and lanky man. Dark hair, tied into a braid, spilled over his left shoulder. His face was sharp, his suit cleanly pressed. 

Agnes sniffed; he stank of vampire.

“Miss Murray, I presume?” asked the man. 

Agnes took his hand, keeping her grip as gentle as she could. “Who else would I be?” She asked. 

The young man helped her dismount. “You may call me Aster. I am the head of Lady Rosemary’s household. As her handmaiden, you will answer to me.”

“Of course.” Agnes schooled her face into one of a blank sort of focus. “And when do I begin my duties?”

Aster smiled. “Ah, so industrious, you Cordises. Though I suppose you must be, with the threat of hunters at your neck.”

“They patrol the streets at night, and I am used to staying up to work.”

“Well, you shall have nothing to fear, here. You begin tomorrow morning.”

Agnes blinked. “Morning? Are vampires not night creatures?”

“You’ll find that Lady Rosemary keeps an odd schedule. But here, please allow me to show you round the castle.”

“Of course.”

Castle Rosemary was as twisted on the inside as the outside. Agnes and Aster passed a great set of doors, decorated with twisting bronze relief, and strode into a grand foyer, lit dimly by a stained glass window, struck with moonlight.

She was guided up a grand flight of stairs, past a dining room, and down a door-lined hallway that led to all manner of things. A music room, a gaming room, three separate sitting rooms. They curled around the hallway and through a door, into a central sort of cloister.

“Naturally,” Aster explained as he led Agnes around the veranda, “Rosemary cares deeply for this garden. The flowers planted here bloom by moonlight, and she does love them.”

“They’re glowing,” Agnes observed, because the flowers in the square-shaped garden were indeed pulsing with light, their delicate petals curling out in crescents.

“They are blessed, as is she,” Aster said, cryptically. There was a wry smile on his face. “Now, come. This cloister dates to when the castle was a monastery. It is no such thing anymore. Rosemary’s quarters, and yours, are this way.”

At the furthest corner, they turned through a small, wooden door and into a dark hallway. In the flecks of moonlight behind them, Agnes first made out the shape of Lady Rosemary’s door, and then her own, further down, by a small window, covered in a sheer cloth.

“Shall I... say hello?” Agnes asked.

Aster shook his head. “Get settled in your own room for now. We shall formally introduce you with her breakfast.”

Breakfast? For a vampire? Agnes steeled her face, grateful for the cloak of darkness to help hide her surprise.

“Then I shall see you in the morning, Sir.”

“Yes, thank you. Six o’clock, sharp, if you please. Your uniform is freshly pressed and waiting in your room.”

Agnes nodded. Dismissed, she turned to her own bedroom, and entered.

So focused on the task at hand, she did not notice the blood red eye, staring at her through the keyhole of Lady Rosemary’s door.

Agnes’ room was small and plain; the walls were freshly whitewashed, and a small bed was covered in heavy blankets. On one end of the room stood a wardrobe and a little table. Near the door hung a bell. This must be her lady’s maid’s bell, which would ring when Rosemary required her services. 

Agnes set aside her disgust at serving a vampire, instead electing to place her suitcase on the bed and open it. She hung several sets of plain clothes in the closet beside a collection of black dresses and white aprons that she presumed would be her uniforms, and then placed a small notebook and pen on the table.

On this, she was to write her findings in code. But this was not all extra that she had brought.

In the privacy of her own room, Agnes took out, cleaned, and hid her weapons.

First there was the most obvious. The umbrella’s handle, when twisted the proper way, came out from its holster with a small click, revealing a thick, silver needle with a pointed tip. The suitcase’s base snapped up. Beneath, more stakes, silver and elegant, and a jar of dried garlic flowers. Things thin enough to fit in the base and leave no indication of a hidden compartment. Specially made, just for her.

Ascertaining that all was well and where she knew it to be, she placed the suitcase and the umbrella both in the corner of the room. Only a single, small needle would remain beneath her maid’s uniform, tucked into a holster on her thigh, difficult to spot, but easy for her to grab in the case a vampire attacked her.

Soon she would sleep. Then would come the dawn, and with it, her first meeting with her new lady. Agnes had not been thrilled about this job, but it didn’t matter. She was ready to complete it with discipline. 

She would meet this Rosemary and charm her. She would appear as harmless as possible. She would learn everything. Then, and only then, would she finish the job and escape the castle.