The Gentleman

by H. P. Mallory

  Something must have happened. I was stuck inside my own head. This realization struck me fairly quickly, and I swiftly understood that I had to find my own way out. That was my next challenge! And it was also a sticking point since I had no idea how difficult that task could be.

  As soon as that epiphany occurred to me, all the former scenery popped back into being. I found myself once again ensconced in the forest. Glancing to my right and then to my left, I also found I was alone.

  The fog continued to blanket the ground, making every step I took a precarious one. I had no way of seeing or detecting what was underfoot. But I continued moving forward all the same, feeling slightly pleased to see that the never-ending, bleak darkness I was previously confined to was now just a memory. Hopefully, I would not return to it again.

  This version of the forest, the one I was currently experiencing, was a little different than before. The trees were dark and grey, only somber shades of black and white in the thick, heavy fog. The sky, too, was grey, although it was a deeper charcoal. It was almost as if the sky and the ground were reflections of each other—cloudy at the top and foggy at the bottom.

  Was this where our minds went when we slept? And when nothing stirred the gears of our brains to shift or move? Did people trapped in a comatose state experience this same disturbing nothingness? I could only wonder as I plodded through the monochrome forest. I was trying to find my way back to a place that I didn’t even know.

  I’d managed to locate the single flame, and when I’d touched it, I remembered opening my eyes and seeing Sinjin. He was sitting on the bed next to me while everyone else stood around me. But as quickly as I nearly returned to that reality, something sucked me right back into the dreamscape again. And upon my reentry here, I noticed the flame had either gone out or simply disappeared.

  Was it because of Luce? I had no clue, but I figured it was highly probable. I’d lost sight of Luce a while ago when he disappeared right in front of me. I knew he intended to confine me to an eternity inside my own mind, or maybe he preferred to bury me alive. In essence, that’s what he was doing. Burying me alive in my own head.

  I glanced up at the sky, wishing and hoping the answer I sought was there. The heavy, grey clouds moved as if they were on fast forward. I let my attention fall back on the silhouettes of skeletal trees before me and did not fail to notice the absolute silence. There was no other sound except my footfalls crushing whatever I was walking on.

  Thoughts of my sister again plagued my already overwrought mind. I wondered if she returned to the others and was okay—and I hoped that her time inside my head did not affect her too traumatically.

  Would I ever see her again? Would I ever see Sinjin again? I inquired to myself. Could I ever find a way out of this place?

  Yes, of course you can! First, you must find a way to get out of your own head! I answered rhetorically.

  With my last ounce of hope, I decided to do the only thing that might work. I tried to call out to my sister, using only my mind. Our private connection never failed before, and I had to see if, by any chance, she could hear me.

  Jolie? I thought her name. Can you hear me? Jolie?

  But there was no response.

  FOURTEEN

  Sinjin

  Bryn lay on the bed with a light sheet pulled up to her chest. It had been at least an hour since her sister departed, and now I sat alone in the room with her, watching the little tempest breathing. Her light brown, silky hair was splayed across the white pillowcase like an elegant Chinese fan. And her athletic body lay perfectly still in a disturbingly deep slumber. Disturbing because it was so peaceful …

  The flames that left her skin red had long since disappeared. After such a traumatic event, one might have expected to find horrible wounds or scars marring her, yet there were none in sight.

  Having been relegated to playing the role of nursemaid, I was dutifully fulfilling my position. Not that I minded. Quite the contrary, I found it difficult to pry my attention away from the slumbering beauty. Sitting next to her on the bed, I could not stop admiring her perfect skin as I realized that, for the first time, I could appreciate her beauty without the chronic obstacle of her sharp tongue and slick words.

  I readily admit the Lady Bryn did not possess perfection in her beauty. But I saw perfection in her imperfections. Such as three freckles just above her collarbone that, if connected, formed an isosceles triangle. And the way her top lip curved slightly upward when her mouth was at rest, instead of delivering another barbed comment that she usually directed my way. How effortlessly her eyebrows framed her eyes and the fine hairs on her arms were nearly invisible unless one had the enviable opportunity of viewing them up close.

  I continued to study her, unable to tear my gaze away. Like the painter must feel when he is captivated by his subject, I was hopelessly sucked in by the lines of her face, the darkness of her lashes, and the pink of her cheeks.

  Her fingertips lay flat against the sheet, and her pink nail beds called to me—beckoning me to take her hand in mine … So I did. I held her hand, caressing her supple skin and listening to the rhythmic pattern of her thumping heart.

  A heaviness was growing inside me that felt very foreign and unnatural. The more I pondered that fact, the more I realized how unaccustomed I was to feeling this way. I had always willingly blocked myself from forming close ties with anyone as a custom. Especially with those of such abbreviated lifespans. I shied away from what was once my humanity, all emotions included. It was much easier not to feel anything, especially after “living” for so many long centuries.

  Leaning forward slightly, I whispered to her, “I left you alone and I should not have. Please forgive me, my beautiful swan. Forgive me for abandoning my duty and not protecting you as I should have. Forgive me for leaving you to fend for yourself.”

  In my six-hundred-plus years of existence, women have been the objects I most desired, so naturally, I courted and bedded them. Although I could not deny my wanton lust for this lovely woman, there was something more I sensed that was rapidly manifesting. Perhaps it was simply a growing admiration, or possibly a budding respect. I do not know exactly the word for the emotion I was feeling, but something about her affected me in ways that no other woman ever could.

  This woman, unlike any other before her, possessed the uncanny ability of keeping me on my toes while I simply enjoyed the dance. In fact, I eagerly anticipated our sparring repartees, much more than I cared to divulge to her. I sincerely doubted I could possibly be in love with the Lady Bryn, certainly not! I did not imagine I was still capable of loving since having divorced myself from my humanity for so many centuries. But I also could not honestly deny my continued perpetual fondness and allegiance toward this lovely woman. That much, I had to confess, was true.

  As instructed by Mercedes, I soaked a washcloth in an herb solution and placed the wet material across the lady’s forehead. Over the past hour, Bryn had not moved, flinched, or even blinked. Were it not for the steady beating of her precious heart, I could have mistaken her for deceased.

  And on that note, I found myself puzzling over my bizarre thoughts. Were the Lady Bryn to suddenly awaken from her trance, for lack of a better word, I was suddenly painfully aware that she would still be confined to her own mortality. Unlike the vampire, Elementals and witches are not destined to enjoy eternal existence. Yes, they can extend their lives, but that is all it is, an extension, which will not last forever. That unsavory thought caused me inordinate discomfort. Now that I was faced with the grim notion that the little hellfire might not awaken from this vegetative state, I became consumed with what I could only imagine must have been fear.

  I stood up as the uncomfortable thoughts began to fester in my brain, spewing their venom so mercilessly that I found I could no longer maintain my seated position. I paced the room a few times and contemplated whether anything could be done about her current state.

  More than once, I found myself leaning forward on t
he chair beside her bed and taking her small hand into mine. I whispered in her ear that there was still much to be done, and she could not leave us, although it appeared she was. I even confessed that I needed her to awaken. But she still did not respond or move.

  I wondered if my words fell on deaf ears or she could hear my voice somewhere in the comatose state in which she was currently imprisoned. When she had first come back to us, minutes after the queen and I returned from the vision, Bryn barely opened her eyes before an expression of sheer horror had swept across her face. And merely moments later, she was gone again! I could not banish that memory from my mind despite my frequent attempts.

  What if she had only temporarily resurfaced before Luce snatched her back into the vision? What if she were still a captive of Luce? What if she were desperately trying to resist him but needed help, my help?

  Myriad thoughts raced through my mind, suggesting all kinds of solutions and answers until my next thoughts shot them down. Wanting nothing more than to sink my razor-sharp fangs deep into Luce’s neck and thoroughly drain his life and essence was all that kept me operating. It was the only image that remained static, and the only thought that brought me any sort of joy. Meanwhile, Bryn remained in a paralyzed state, fighting with all of her might to return to us. I only hoped she was still fighting. I prayed to whatever higher power that exists to give her the necessary strength to emerge from her trance. I also begged the lady not to surrender to Luce’s devious mind.

  Now my desire to kill the leader who raised her was all-encompassing. I had intended to do it when I first stepped onto the grounds of his camp. Yes, but that impulse was only half as powerful as what I felt now. Without a plan as to how, or knowing the date of when, I nevertheless vowed to myself that when the occasion arose, I would accomplish my mission—I would vanquish Luce from the face of the earth, no matter the consequences, even if it meant I had to surrender my own life in the process.

  But sincere promises were sadly inadequate for what the little tempest needed now. Poor Bryn was stuck somewhere between there and here—caught between the depths of her mind and reality. And there was nothing I could do. No matter how badly I wished to save her, all I could do now was hold her hand, stroke her arm, and try not to flag in my belief that she would eventually make her way back to me.

  Standing up, I slowly began pulling the cloth from her head. I walked over to the herb solution in the large round bowl and dipped the cloth inside it again. This time, after wringing out the excess liquid, I placed the warm cloth on her arms, wiping it from her shoulder down to her hand. I repositioned myself and did the same thing on her opposite side. Then I dipped the cloth back into the solution and folded it into a narrow rectangle, draping it over her porcelain-smooth forehead gently. She did not move—or even twitch.

  “It is time, Bryn,” I crooned softly in her ear. “If you can hear me, it is now time for you to wake up. You must open your beautiful eyes before giving me one of your clever smirks and saying something that suggests you are irritated with me but also amused, as you often do. It is time, my lady. We need you still.” I sighed. “I need you perhaps the most of all.”

  Nothing. No response. Complete and utter silence.

  I leaned down closer to her ear. “Come back to me, my little imp.” Only the stillness of silence followed my pathetic quip.

  Frustrated, I began to pace the room again. Back and forth, I could only wonder what in the bloody hell was going on inside her addled mind. Was she still fighting for her life and sanity? Was she hopelessly lost in the woods? Was she seriously wounded? Was she still trying to determine which world was real?

  Every once in a while, the small thuds of her heartbeat sped up and increased her blood flow, but most of the time, the steady rhythm persisted. Her breathing also continued in a passive sort of way—and perhaps that was a good indicator, or not.

  A small tap on the door interrupted my thoughts. I glanced at Bryn and turned toward the closed door rather impatiently. Why? I was not certain. Upon opening it, I found Klaasje, Varick, and Trent staring back at me. All at once, I realized I had momentarily forgotten that I summoned them.

  Scowls contorted the faces of Varick and Trent while Klaasje just smiled in her customary, kind-hearted fashion. Without saying a single word, I stepped to the side to allow them entrance before closing the door behind us. Walking a short few steps, I placed myself between them and Bryn in a protective manner that baffled everyone, including me.

  “Thank you for coming,” I said, narrowing my eyes at each of them. “I am certain you must be quite puzzled as to the reason why I requested your immediate attendance.”

  Varick’s ice-cold, hazel eyes scanned my face briefly. He seemed rigidly resigned, and an air of irritability tainted his expression. “Yes, so perhaps you could inform us all of the reason without wasting anymore of our time?”

  “I wish to discuss the matter of the Lady Bryn,” I began before realizing I had to further explain myself. “More pointedly, the vision she had that—”

  “Ah, yes,” Varick cut me off in mid-sentence. “The second-class sister wasn’t getting enough public attention, so she concocted a wild story to throw the queen into a sheer panic. Are you talking about that vision?”

  His words hit me hard. Not because they contained even a smattering of truth, but because they were hard, cold, and razor sharp. I bristled.

  “Your transparent jealousy is more than unbecoming, Varick, old man,” I answered with a faux laugh. I did not fail to notice or appreciate the way in which his scowl suddenly deepened. Taking a step toward him—I found myself much closer than I wanted to be to the ancient vampire. But if the truth be told, I needed him now so I refused to allow him to push me over the edge.

  “Jealousy?” he began with a shrug, as if he expected to refute my comment. But I disallowed him any opportunity.

  “I know we have locked horns before,” I began, as agreeably as I was able to sustain. “But you must never refer to the princess in such an unflattering way again. She has proven herself a noble warrior and is as much a citizen of Kinloch Kirk as any of us in this room.”

  “I believe you mean, she is another of the queen’s personal puppets just as you are?” Varick stepped closer to me, and I sensed he was egging me on—tempting me to react to his predictable barbs. But I refused to fall for such childish, transparent attempts. I required his strength and agility and leadership. A master vampire, he was the one who turned me into what I was today. That meant he would have been quite a contender if I chose to fight. However, I was not in the mood to spar with him, neither verbally nor otherwise.

  “We must put our differences aside right now, Varick,” I explained. “I did not ask you to come here in order to settle old conflicts.”

  “Then why did you call us here?” Trent asked.

  I glanced behind myself to view the sleeping beauty before I faced the three again. Varick crossed his arms over his chest and sharpened his glare toward me. “I am devising a plan that involves the three of you, and I must ask you three to handle it.” I was aware that teaming Trent with two vampires might have sounded like an undesirable move, but I needed all of their skills and for different reasons. Of course, I expected them to argue amongst themselves, and I knew Varick and Trent would never see eye-to-eye, but I needed them regardless of their shortcomings.

  Varick snickered. “You want us to work with him?” He nodded toward Trent, who responded with a growl at Varick. It was a very low rumble that the human ear might not have detected, but vampire hearing is much more acute than human hearing.

  “Enough!” I barked, spearing both of them with an irritated glare. Once they quieted, I continued, “As you might recall from the meeting earlier, Luce fully intends to attack our kingdom. And the queen wants us to assemble an army.”

  “We were all there and we all remember her orders,” Varick said with visible disinterest, shifting from one foot to the other and burying his hands in his pockets as he co
cked his head toward me.

  “Very good. I am pleased to learn you were paying attention,” I chided him before continuing. “I want to remain a step ahead of Luce at all times.” I turned my head to check on the sleeping princess again before returning my gaze to the three standing before me.

  “What does that mean?” Klaasje asked.

  I faced her. “It means that instead of waiting in the dark for Luce to attack us, I suggest we take the fight to him.”

  “How?” Trent asked. “We can’t very well move the army from here to Montana. That will leave the kingdom too exposed.”

  “True, which is why I would like the three of you to intercept Luce and his army before they arrive here, and also before they can reach Kinloch Kirk.”

  “Intercept?” Klaasje asked as she shook her head and appeared confused. “You want the three of us to take on Luce’s army?” Her blue eyes shone with uncertainty and doubtful concern.

  Although Klaasje was not nearly as old as Varick or myself, she had two very impressive skills. She was faster than any vampire her age that I had ever seen, and she had a pretty face. That mattered as much as her vampiric powers of persuasion; she could sway any man into doing her bidding—anyone, that is, except a master vampire, of course. “So in a roundabout way, yes.”

  “That’s a suicide mission, Sinjin,” she answered with a frown. “Luce has a massive army! Against the three of us?” She shook her head in visible defeat.

  “The mission for you is to gather intelligence,” I corrected her. “I do not expect you to attack Luce and his army. Instead, I seek knowledge.” I glanced from Klaasje to Trent. “I want to know the hour and minute when Luce plans to make his assault on the castle. I also want to know how many comprise his army. And …” I stopped as I considered my next statement more carefully.