The Carlisle Sisters

When my sister Angelique fell ill, I immediately took on the role of her caretaker. Ever since our parents died seven years ago, she and I had lived together in the family manor. Through our hearty inheritance we were able to keep on the cook, housekeeper, and groundskeeper. Our housekeeper Alice was a sweet older woman who offered to tend to Angelique once it was clear her illness was not leaving quickly. But Angelique was mine to care for and I informed Alice that she needn’t worry about anything other than the housekeeping.

All her life, Angelique had lived up to her name. She looked like an angel with soft, pale blonde hair that she kept up in a complicated twist, and a thin, tall frame she dressed elegantly in silk and velvet. I, however, was her older and much less ethereal sister. My hair was long and black and fell in wayward ringlets that I tried unsuccessfully to tame with a bun. I much preferred simple dresses I could easily move in over the heavier, more extravagant garb of my sister. My sister lived for attending balls and meeting new people, while I much preferred the comforts of my library and the light of the fireplace.

It should have been me who fell ill. Me, who would probably die a spinster, while my sister was only waiting for a suitor she deemed worthy. I feared she would never meet him now. 

But I knew I mustn't think like that. I vowed to nurse her back to health.

My sister fell ill after a carriage ride in town with Alice. They’d gone out to buy some fabric to make Angelique a new gown. As they exited the carriage, a strange man ran toward them, howling like an animal. Alice attempted to shield my sister from the man, but it was too late. He launched himself at Angelique and bit her on the hand before a group of people came running to her aid and the man dashed off, disappearing into the bustling streets.

The doctor was called, and he relayed the news to me with sympathy in his eyes.

“There’s nothing we can do, I’m afraid, Miss Carlisle. Here is some medicine to keep her comfortable. Call upon me at any time.”

And with that, the doctor was gone.

Alice wept. The cook, Helen, busied herself in the kitchen by making soup, which she said would warm my sister’s soul and bring her health. George, our groundskeeper, stayed silent, which wasn’t any different than his usual demeanor. 

I, however, hadn’t lost hope. My sister was strong and healthy and she would overcome this illness. I would help her through it.

On the third day, my sister stopped breathing. I shook her. Nothing. I splashed her with cold water. Nothing. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I hit her. Nothing.

I had finally given up and collapsed across my sister’s bed with my head resting defeated against her still chest when Alice came in to bring me a cup of tea. Upon seeing my sister’s lifeless state, she immediately began to weep. She had been our family’s housekeeper for over 20 years and had watched Angelique and I grow up. After our parents died, she was the closest we had to a mother.

We began the mourning process--me still in disbelief--with the customary 24-hour wake. My sister would have someone by her side at every moment in case she woke up and blessed us all once again with her light.

Alice insisted she take the first watch while I rested. Helen and George followed in shifts until it was my turn to sit beside my sister’s bed once more. 

George gave me a solemn nod as I sat down by my sister’s still form laid out upon the bed, surrounded by flowers. Black crepe was draped over the mirrors and portraits on the walls. The state of the room made my heart sink into my stomach. I couldn’t believe that my sister had left me.

I couldn’t help but hang my head into my hands and weep. I wept until the sound of fabric rustling from the bed in front of me startled me out of my despair. 

“Angelique?” I cried as I leaned forward toward my sister.

I heard another soft rustling sound and noticed my sister’s feet twitching slightly. I cried out again, this time in happiness as I knelt down next to the bed and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. As if reacting to my touch, her shoulder twitched once, then twice, under my hand. My heart pounded with excitement as I shook her shoulder ever so slightly.

“Angelique, darling, you must wake up. It’s me, Flora.”

Angelique groaned softly. I shook her a bit harder and once more called her name. She groaned louder this time, her legs moving back and forth across the surface of the bed. 

I shuddered involuntarily at the gutteral sound of her groaning.

She sounds almost inhuman, I thought before quickly dismissing the notion. Of course she sounded strange. She had been deathly ill for days and had laid without any movement for 20 hours. She had laid so still, we had thought she was dead. 

Of course her poor voice is weak, I thought, chastising myself for thinking such ugly thoughts of my precious sister.

I stroked her hand and stared intently at her face. She still looked so pale, but I supposed that was to be expected from one who had been as ill as she had. Still, she was so ghostly pale that I could see purple veins running across the skin of her face and hands.

Suddenly, as if someone yanked her forward by the collar, my sister sprang upright and let out a howling growl so loud my hands automatically jerked up to cover my ears.

The door to the bedroom burst open as Alice and Helen came to investigate the terrible sound. They both shrieked in delete at seeing Angelique awake. Their shrieks quickly turned to ones of terror, however, as Angelique launched herself from the bed, snarling and baring her teeth as she reached for them.

Alice quickly pulled Helen back through the door and slammed it shut after them.

“Hold her still! We’ll get George,” she yelled through the door as I desperately tried to restrain my sister. 

I held her arms twisted behind her back and stood as far from her as I could maintain. She bent her head around her shoulder, biting the air in front of me frantically. Her eyes looked wildly around the room, not seeming to actually focus on anything they saw. My thoughts returned to the day she was bitten and Alice’s description of the man. Wild. Like an animal. I shuddered.

The door burst open and George came running in, lengths of thick rope in his hands. He rushed to my side and began wrapping the rope around Angelique’s torso, pinning her arms to her back.

“Help me get her on the bed,” he growled as he struggled to pull my snarling sister further into the room.

Helen, Alice and I each grabbed my sister, careful not to get too close to her still-biting mouth, and dragged her to the bed. Once she was there, George began looping more rope over her body and around the bed, holding her firm on top of the mattress. 

Exhausted, we collapsed to the floor while George sat heavily on the chair where we had kept watch.

“She’s not right, miss. We have to put her out of her misery,” he said in a low voice.

“Absolutely not. Her affliction is simply leaving her body. Once it is gone, she will be herself once more and no longer ‘in misery’ as you say,” I replied sternly, glaring at him.

“Miss…” Helen began timidly. “You know I’m devoted to you both, but, if I may… George has a point. Alice saw the man that bit her and from what she said, he wasn’t human anymore. I-I’ve heard tell of this happening in other cities long ago, but… well, once they turn animalistic like this, th-there’s no going back. They hunger f-for human flesh and they spread their disease with each bite.”

Growing up, I had heard the stories, too. But that’s all they were. Stories. Still… something in the bottom of my stomach turned with unease as I stared at my sister thrashing wildly on the bed.

“Nonsense,” I said, turning to Helen. “Bring us some sandwiches and tea. She must be famished.”

Helen nodded and exited the room, returning a few minutes later with a tray. 

“I was about to bring these to you when we heard… the noise,” she said, setting the tray down on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” I said, crossing over to the table to feed my sister. “Cucumber, I see. Good. Those are her favorite.” 

I picked up one of the sandwiches and held it in front of my sister’s face.

“Angelique, darling, you must eat. Helen made you your favorite, look,” I cooed. 

Angelique took a bite from the sandwich and immediately spit it back out, a rageful snarl escaping her lips as she thrashed violently on the bed. I leapt back in alarm.

“Flesh,” George said harshly. “She desires flesh, miss.”

“Fine. If it’s flesh you insist she desires, we’ll bring her some,” I said, exasperated. “Helen, go to the kitchen and fetch the raw roast planned for tonight’s supper. That should satisfy her until she gets well. We’ll eat something else.”

Helen rushed from the room a little too eagerly, but I couldn’t say I blamed her. Alice put a reassuring hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve heard tell of these stories, too, miss. And, yes, I did see the man, if he could be called that still. But,” she added, “your sister is a strong woman. I know she will get better if we help her.”

I nodded in agreement and let my head rest on Alice’s shoulder as she pulled me close, like she’d done so many times when I was a young girl in need of comfort. I was glad she, at least, was on my side. Mine and Angelique’s, that is.

Helen came back, carrying a pan full of raw meat. George took it from her and, after I nodded in approval, put it on the bed next to my sister’s head. Pulling at her restraints, she dove at the meat, tearing away as much as she could reach in bloody chunks with her teeth. 

Helen retched at the sight and excused herself quickly from the room. George just stood by the bed, staring at the sight before him with a look of disgust I did not much care for.

“You may go, George. Thank you. Alice and I will watch over my sister for now.”

George nodded, pulling his gaze away from the bed, and left the room hurriedly. I leaned closer to Alice and whispered, “We must keep an eye on George. I do not trust that he has my sister’s best interests in mind.”

Alice nodded.

“Never you mind, miss. I won’t let him lay a finger on her.”

We spent the next few hours huddled together on the floor, chatting about nonsense in an attempt to drown out the awful tearing and snarling sounds coming from my sister’s bed.

…..

In the following days, Alice and I tirelessly tried to get my sister to eat anything but raw meat. She would turn her head away at each offering and then snap eagerly at our fingers.

Helen and George were banned from the room. I thought it best my sister only dealt with Alice and I, in case the sight of too many people overwhelmed her. I also didn’t trust Helen and George to be alone with my sister at any time in her current state. 

Though I had hoped my sister would start to be more like herself, she seemed to only get worse. Soon, she wouldn’t even touch the raw beef and poultry we brought her. It was clear now what she wanted, though my stomach turned at the thought. 

Even so, I knew what needed to be done. I was Angelique’s only flesh and blood and I had vowed to care for her. I would do whatever it took to make sure she did not leave me.

Alice and I took the carriage deep into town--to the part people of my station rarely went to. Beggars swarmed around us, holding out their hands and asking for food, money, anything. I took a deep breath and grabbed the hand of a dirty young man in tattered clothes and pulled him into the carriage.

“You,” I said, not looking him in the eye. “Come with me. I have a job for you.”

Alice snapped the reins and we headed back home--a terrible deed awaiting us.

We frequented the back alleys and dark streets in town, promising desperate people work if they came with us. We snuck them into the house as best we could, but I knew Helen and George suspected we were up to something. Helen seemed to accept it, but George became even more cold and distant as the days went on.

He burst into my sister’s bedroom one day as she fed upon a beggar from the village.

“I knew it! Devilish woman!” he cried, as he ran at my sister with an axe.

I had little time to think--I simply reacted in the way any loving sister would. I reached for the tea kettle and splashed the scalding liquid in his face. He screamed and dropped the axe, hands clawing at his burned face.

I leapt for the axe as Alice screamed at me to stop. I had to protect my sister. There was no other choice.

I swung at George’s treacherous neck. His head rolled to the floor, his glassy eyes staring up at me.

“Miss!” Helen screamed as she hovered in the doorway and took in the terrible scene.

Alice rushed over to the door, ready to push Helen out when I spoke.

“Stop,” I said, bending down to pick up the groundskeeper’s severed head. Grasping it by the hair, I held the dripping head out toward the terrified Helen. “You see what happens when you betray the Carlisle sisters?”

Helen nodded, her eyes wide with fear.

“Y-yes, miss. I understand.”

“Good. Now, how’s dinner coming? I’m absolutely famished.”