Something in the Shadows

by Elle Beaumont

  “I believe they are about to start the first dance. May I have the honour, or is your card already filled?” he jested.

  “I would be delighted to accept.” She smiled up at him as she removed her hand from his arm to place it in his own hand instead, allowing him to lead her out.

  Taking their positions across from each other, they easily fell into the steps as music swelled around them. Tommaso blocked out the soft chatter of guests and concentrated instead on the brightness of Manette’s eyes, and the touch of her hand as they met together, spinning and dipping before stepping apart once more. The movements, though innocent enough in nature, were igniting within him a hunger that made his dark brown eyes dilate, and his teeth sharpen. Now was not the time to find himself drawn to the column of her throat, but it was happening anyway.

  As the dance came to a close, Tommaso led her straightway into another, finding himself unwilling to release her into the room at large. In this moment, her eyes were upon him, as was her full attention, and it was exactly where he wanted them to be. Releasing her hand so that they could dance around the outside of the line of couples, only to reunite at the other end, Tommaso watched her over the heads of the other maidens. Though there was beauty all around him, she was the only one he truly desired. Manette was the target of his need, the scent that stirred him, and the only one he could not allow himself to have—yet.

  As the second dance concluded, he offered a breathless Manette his arm, pressing his free hand down overtop hers. “Let’s get you some refreshments.” Together they moved into the buffet line, picking from the delicious offerings.

  While Manette made her choices, Tommaso plucked glasses of wine from a passing servant’s tray, and carried them down the line until at last they were ready to find a seat. It was as they were taking their places that another scent caught his attention, sparking his own thirst. Peering around, he found its origin—a pretty footman who did not look away as their eyes met.

  “If you would not find it altogether rude… I would excuse myself to feed as well,” he questioned, eyes falling to read her expression.

  While she did not like it, Manette had grown used to his needs and ways, and did not hold him back when he declared it time to sate them. “Of course. I will be here still when you return.”

  Plucking her hand up, he kissed the top of it, meeting her eyes for a moment, and then turned. Making his way to the young footman, he requested softly in his ear that he lead him to a quiet place in the gardens where he could partake in some fresh air.

  Not understanding fully what was about to happen, but realizing there was something in the air between them, the lad ushered him to a set of large doors. It took them out onto a stone balcony with the offering of steps leading into the gardens below. Outside, Tommaso murmured for the footman to follow him, and together they descended into the darkness provided by the cool evening.

  When they were free of potential observation, Tommaso drew the lad towards him, his hand lifting to cup his cheek as he brushed a thumb over his lips. Unable to resist the pliant nature of the lovely creature before him, Tommaso dipped his head to kiss him, tasting the youthful essence of his life. He contemplated pressing him against one of the nearby trees and sating another growing hunger, instead he broke from his lips and pressed his chin lightly so as to expose the pale line of his throat.

  “You are a beautiful, willing treat,” he murmured, then lowered his lips to the pulse beating there beneath the surface of silken flesh, and sunk his teeth into him. The male released a soft whimper of pain, his hands coming to clutch at Tommaso’s chest in an effort to push him away, yet he did not cry out for help.

  The taste of fear coated his tongue, and the subtle feel of a struggle within his grasp ignited the ravenous, clawing beast inside of him that was never sated. He could have, and likely should have, swayed the boy’s mind into clouded submission, but the darkest parts of himself needed to feed upon the desperation of another, to feel the fragile life of his prey grasping at living. It was a part of himself that would never die, a part that Alkaios had insisted he accept and indulge when the situation presented itself.

  He had meant to only sip from him, to take just enough to get him through the evening and perhaps the next without requiring more blood, but there was something in the growing struggle as the young footman felt his life draining from him that caused Tommaso to press on.

  He drank deeply of the life-giving liquid that now flowed so freely from his companion. Strong hands now pushed with more force, as a new found fear coursed through what remained within him.

  It should have had Tommaso releasing him, but he had now been so many days denying his true nature that the impulse was too hard to suppress any longer. He wrapped one arm around the other male’s more slender frame, pinning his arms to his sides, and crushing his chest into his own. As the last bout of fight filled the boy, Tommaso released a growl of pleasure against his flesh and gulped down blood in a gluttonous manner until the form against his own grew slack. He felt his heartbeat growing weak and eventually cease altogether.

  Pulling off him with a gasp, Tommaso gazed down at the blank face and dim eyes staring lifelessly up at the star-filled night, cursing himself and his own weakness. There had been no cause for death tonight, beyond selfish cravings. His own body now alive with the thrill of hunting, feeding and then killing, he bent to scoop the lifeless one easily into his arms. Carrying him deeper into the gardens, he found a secluded place where he quickly dug a hole and buried the young man within it.

  “I thank you for your sacrifice,” he whispered apologetically to him, before closing his eyes and, lastly, covering his face with soil.

  Filled with not nearly enough regret, Tommaso made his way back into the castle, bright with lights and music, searching for Manette amid the throng. In her happy smile he found redemption, and put the dead footman far from his thoughts.

  London, England

  * * *

  Manette sat across from him, a glass of wine in her hand, and laughter upon her lips, as she spoke candidly with another young woman she had made friends with shortly after their arrival in London three weeks earlier. It pleased Tommaso immensely to see the way she continued to blossom in her new life, finding more ways to enjoy the freedom that was now hers. Being here in the city brought them a little closer to France, but also nearer the aristocrats, providing him with ample fodder to work with, so that finding a home for the two of them had been no trouble at all.

  In the end, they had decided to portray themselves as husband and wife, avoiding questions of them living together when they were unattached. This lie, of course afforded them more opportunities to be close and ever-so personal with each other, which in turn was making them closer in actuality. Each time Tommaso stepped out with Manette on his arm, he prided himself in having won her over that evening in Paris, convincing her to trust him enough to whisk her away from a life she detested.

  “You must come to the tourney being held in a fortnight! Watching all those knights duelling in armour and seeing which of the maidens offers up her favour… It’s all delightfully scandalous,” Miriam was chattering on, and as she spoke, Manette’s eyes drifted to his across the room.

  “That sounds splendid my dear,” he agreed. “I’ll be away on business at that time, so you should join Miss Stewart at the tournament so that my absence is not so hard on you.”

  He could not deny her a life in the sunlight when she was human, and born to it. Plus, should neither of them ever show up in daylight hours, people would begin to talk, and Tommaso would rather not have to glamour all of them into forgetting their suspicions. His response elicited a bright smile from Manette, and she nodded quickly to Miriam.

  “Then it is settled!” Miriam chimed. “I’ll send round our carriage for you first thing in the morning on the twentieth.”

  Manette had returned home flushed and happy, her blue eyes glowing with a warmth that he never wished to deny her. If her being ab
le to go out into the world and enjoy life to the fullest without him was what it would take to keep her happy, then he would provide her with every opportunity to do so.

  Tommaso joined her for her evening meal shortly after he woke, allowing her to talk endlessly about what she had experienced—the bravery as well as stupidity, of the knights as they competed for glory and monetary reward. Sipping his glass of blood, Tommaso chuckled when appropriate, and questioned her further on her activities, simply taking his own pleasure in seeing her so happy. It was intoxicating, almost as much as the fresh blood passing between his lips, knowing that he had helped give her this.

  Eventually they settled in the sitting room. Situated near the fire, they began to speak of more personal things.

  “I’ve never asked you… when… how did it happen?” Manette eyed him with tenderness, and while it was not a topic he enjoyed speaking about, he could see her need to know and understand.

  “It was a very, very long time ago,” he began. “In the monastery on Monte Cassino, in Italy.”

  “Monastery?” Her eyes widened in surprise, and she studied him more closely.

  Tommaso offered an amused smile, knowing her thoughts. “Yes, I was dedicated to the abbey when I was fifteen, the middle son of my parents. It had always been allotted for me, and I was happy in it.” He felt a wistfulness settle over him as he thought of memories he hadn’t allowed himself to in a very long time. “However, one night a dark creature attacked one of the young brothers, and in my attempt to save him, I, too, was attacked. I woke up the next evening alone in a cave, and I was forever transformed.”

  “You were alone?” There was a deep frown upon her features which, though unpleasant considering her previous happiness, touched him nonetheless.

  “I was… and for many years to follow. Until an older vampyr took pity upon me, and took me into his home teaching me our ways.”

  “The Greek man who was there with you…?”

  “Alkaios.” He nodded. “Yes, it was him.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, the word holding so much more than its soft exhalation would typically imply. “Does it sadden you? To have left him because of me?”

  Tommaso shook his head gently, offering a subtle smile. “No, not at all. Alkaios and I had many, many years together, and now it is my time to be on my own, and find for myself who I truly am.”

  His words eased something within her, for Manette’s shoulders relaxed. “Something we have in common it would seem.”

  Manette was suddenly upon her feet. Crossing the room, she offered her hand to him. Questioningly, Tommaso took the tiny hand, and allowed himself to be drawn up to his feet. Looking down at her, he was surprised to find she did not step back, but instead, stepped nearer.

  “Maso, you are the best man that I have ever known.” Her words were soft as her hands came to rest upon his chest. “That is who you are.”

  He could hear her heart tripping along at a faster pace, and without hesitation lowered his head to kiss her lips. A part of himself expected Manette to draw back, instead she melted into him, a soft sigh of pleasure leaving her. Feeling her happy response, Tommaso lifted his hands to cup her face, tipping her head back enough that he could deepen the kiss with a gentle intrusion. Instinctively her lips parted to him and he felt a faint moan leave him.

  This was what he had desired from the moment their eyes had met across the room in King Philip’s palace, but which he had not allowed himself to believe he would receive. As her form molded easily into his own, Tommaso stooped a little so that he could lift her light frame into his arms. Their lips did not part as he made the ascent to her chambers, closing the door behind them with his foot.

  In her room, he set her carefully back on her feet, pulling away at last so he could look down into her eyes, searching for fear or refusal. Instead, he found only eager consent. With deft fingers, Tommaso began to undo the stays of her dress, loosening the fabric until it was free enough to slip down over her body. Just the sight of her in the thin shift had his own blood coursing more hurriedly.

  Their mouths sought each other out once more in a needy, hungry connection, both their hands working on removing his own clothing. Once they were in nothing but her shift and his breeches, Tommaso captured her by the backs of her thighs, lifting her up to then stretch her out on the bed. Hovering over her, his lips brushed reverent kisses down her neck and over her shoulders, hands tugging at the hem of her shift to tug it up over her hips, so his fingers could explore the soft, warm flesh that readily welcomed him there.

  Manette gasped in pleasure at each new sensation. Tommaso took his time to kiss and nip over each new exposed curve of flesh, delighting in her little moans and surprised whimpers. When at last their bodies came together, he gazed down into her eyes, feeling the connection that lay there beyond the surface, tying the two of them together in a way their bodies never could.

  Afterwards, laying with limbs entwined, and her body slowly cooling, Manette ran her fingers lovingly through his hair.

  “How is it you have such a wonderful head of hair when your life was frozen at a point when you would have had it shaven?”

  Her curiosity caused him to chuckle happily, and Tommaso tightened his arms around her, drawing her nearer.

  “Each day my body heals itself, restoring anything that has been injured or removed. So my hair continues to grow as a natural regeneration of my form,” he explained, amusement in his dark eyes.

  “Fascinating,” Manette whispered, and her simple contentment in that answer was enough to bring his lips to hers once more, tasting the sweetness that was there.

  Life had fallen into such a simple rhythm of happiness, Tommaso should have known it was never meant to last. It began as a meeting of familiar faces, friends made during their stay those first few weeks in the countryside. Seeking to make a life for themselves that was as normal as could be, Tommaso had agreed to the couple joining them for an evening meal at their home.

  The meal passed in pleasant conversation, the four of them enjoying each other’s company. Finished speaking of the excitement that had been had in London as of late, Manette questioned them on Lord Thomas and his household, and Sarah was all to pleased to fill them in on the gossip there was to share.

  “Oh! You missed all the scandal that came about just after you left,” Sarah stated, leaning in a little so that she could meet Manette’s eyes directly. “One of Lord Thomas’ footmen disappeared,” she announced. “They thought perhaps he had run off with one of the village girls.”

  “Would have been better for the lad if he had,” Jonathon quipped.

  Tommaso felt himself stiffen as the conversation turned to an area that felt a little too close for comfort.

  “Well, the young will be young…” he said casually, his eyes not daring to look down the table to Manette.

  “But he hadn’t run off!” Sarah declared.

  “No? What happened?” Manette questioned, curious.

  “Well, one of Thomas’ hounds dug his body up in the gardens! Someone had buried him beneath the rose bushes!” Sarah had the decency to look scandalized, even though her eyes shone with the excitement of it all.

  “No…” Manette responded. Her voice soft and troubled, drew Tommaso’s eye.

  “Yes, and that isn’t even the worst of it,” Jonathon stated, before sipping from his wine. “Something had bit his throat, he had a terrible gash there. What sort of person bites someone else?”

  Manette’s eyes lifted across the table and caught his, the troubled light within them growing. There was a question for him in their depths, one which he did not want to answer. He could simply tell her it was not him, or glamour her questions away, but they were at such a point now he wasn’t certain he could bring himself to do it.

  The atmosphere was tense after that, and while they both behaved as gracious hosts, Tommaso knew the questions that were sure to come. No sooner had the door closed on Sarah and Jonathon, but Manette was turning o
n him, a desperate look on her face.

  “Please tell me that was not you,” she rasped in a soft voice, begging him to tell her that her suspicions were wrong. “Please tell me you did not kill that boy when you have no need of it, when I know you have no need of it!”

  He should have told her no, there was always the possibility that she would have believed him. Instead, he told her the truth.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I didn’t intend to… but I simply lost control.” Which wasn’t entirely true, he had simply wanted to kill. Had needed to kill, to fill that void inside of him that was only silenced with the death of another at his hands.

  “You’re a monster.” It came out harshly, forced past a sob that was working at strangling her words.

  “Manette, darling…” He stepped forward, reaching for her hand, only to have her pull it back out of his grasp.

  “Don’t touch me! To think that I have let you touch me!” She shook her head, disgust upon her features.

  “You’ve seen me kill before…”

  “That was different! He was a horrid man who was hurting me, not a young servant only doing what you asked!” Tears were springing to her eyes, and he made another move toward her, but this time she stepped back, her head shaking. “No.”

  Manette left then, turning around and leaving directly out the front door. She took nothing with her, not even a shawl as she slipped into the darkness beyond. He wanted to stop her, but there was a finality as the door closed, and he was left standing alone in the house that had just hours before, been filled with such happiness.