Darkroom

by Poppet

  Her control slips, a sob breaks out. Hiding her face in her hands, she sits stiffly beside me with her shoulders shaking. Hiding my eyes back behind my shades, I watch the military manoeuvres out at sea dispassionately.

  After a long tense stretch of silence, her hand slips over my knee, squeezing it, "You are right. I am ashamed. And I'm sorry."

  As I turn my attention back to her, she slips to her knees, crawling between my legs and staring up at me, "Please forgive me. Please."

  She's on her knees, at the altar of her maker. What kind of Avenging angel would I be if I denied her plea? The day's not over yet, we still have a little surprise to keep her in check. Smiling I cup her chin, leaning over her, staring into her enchanting blue eyes, "You only get one chance to screw me over. I won't forgive you again."

  Then I kiss her, forcing my way into her willing mouth. Her pixie nose is hot from crying. She winds fragile arms around my neck, trailing kisses over my face and neck. Slipping back down she rests her head on my thigh, caressing my hand as if it's her salvation. Weak, pathetic, easily led astray and naturally fallen. Born with the deformity in her soul.

  The daylight is waning, taking my cue, I lead her with my arm hooked in her waist. "Let's go to the Brass Bell for a drink."

  She nods, clinging to me like a child rescued from a bad dream. Taking my time, I walk her into the subway under the railroad tracks above us. It separates this pub and restaurant from the road. The stench is almost overpowering as we walk into the dim darkness. Her hold tightens, but she doesn't object.

  Hours later, deliberately manipulated, we've 'made up'. Being the romantic lover again, I plied her with alcohol. Enough to get her tipsy. We're the last customers to leave, after having spent at least five hours in both the dining room and then the bar.

  Languidly we stroll into the subway darkness. It's pitch dark, the only sounds are the waves smashing relentlessly against rock behind us. Halfway through the dark, a shadow removes itself from the wall, blocking our path.

  Shauna whimpers, clutching onto me as she recognises Vengeance.

  "Shauna, I have told you not to wear trousers. How dare you defy me again?"

  She shakes her head, huge eyes jerk to me before fixating on Pete in full regalia in front of us. "I … I … you're dead!"

  Stepping closer to her, directly in front of me, he snatches her hair, growling into her face, "What part of angel do you not understand? You simply murdered the body I was inhabiting. You cannot kill me. Shauna you murdered a man, may Father have mercy on your soul, because I won't."

  She squeals, turning to run, but I keep a firm grasp on her, remaining silent.

  "You've run out of mercy Dirty Angel." He glares at me, "Stay out of this Victor, it's not your fight."

  Gripping her face, he leans in, kissing her, biting her lip until the blood flows down her chin, she's shaking so violently I'm beginning to wonder if she's about to faint.

  Licking the blood away as he releases her face, he growls, "I'm coming for you."

  She passes out, slumping in my arms. Hoisting her, I nod my thanks to my loyal disciple, carrying my woman back to the car.

  Chapter 37

  A good snapshot stops a moment from running away.

  ~Eudora Welty

  She comes around three minutes away from home. The shocked inhalation announces it.

  "Angel? You okay?"

  Nodding, she sits up from her slump. Fear has her immediately as she grasps my leg, squeezing it, "Oh God Victor. What are we going to do?"

  "We're not going to do anything. He told me to stay out of it, and after this morning, I intend to. I've already got blood on my hands for you, and you haven't even given me a cup of coffee or a shoulder massage. Instead you chose to escape my home. I'm not interested this time baby."

  "Is that why you just stood there while he threatened me?"

  Ignoring her as I concentrate on parking, I kill the idle purr of the engine by turning the key. Sedately unbuckling before turning to face her in the ghostly light from the street lamps.

  "Shauna give me one good reason to be the rock through your storms? You have to give me more than this."

  Her petulant mouth twists unhappily, dropping her head so that her hair falls forward, hiding her away from me in her own private little cocoon.

  I watch as her shoulders lift as she takes a deep breath, lifting her head, connecting her eyes with mine. "If it takes me all night, I'll prove to you I'm not lying. I do love you, I'm not just saying it. I need you, I fucking adore you. Don't get involved if you don't want to, but at least give me tonight."

  Now we're talking.

  Quashing the smile that almost slipped out, I nod thoughtfully, "Okay. You have tonight. Convince me."

  She's been holding out on me. Her willingness to be forgiven has revealed just how selfish she's been. I've been a saint to her, and only now, at the risk of losing me do I discover that she is excessively skilled at giving a full body massage. Now this is a skill I can use regularly. She replaced her hands with her tongue after each of my muscles became manipulated into deep relaxation. Reawakening my nervous system with amorous desire. It didn't matter what I demanded, she complied. Giving me the proof I required that she is completely dominated by me and will do as I say.

  It is possible that she told me the truth?

  Changing the subject while I sip the whisky she poured for me, her long hair covering my hips where she reclines, trailing her fingertips in carnal adoration, "I scanned both of our homes. We aren't bugged. No cameras. Nothing."

  "He's supernatural. I'll never escape him. Not even when I'm dead."

  Her eyes change hue, haunting sadness sucks the personality and warmth from her face. Instantly the shell stands out in stark contrast. What is personality? All animals have personality, and animal, the word, comes from the Latin anima, which means spirit. Is it at all possible that Alpha was wrong about them having no spirit?

  I have to stop questioning, or I'll have a worse punishment than she's ever had at my hands. Father can never doubt my allegiance.

  "Shauna, who have you had visit you since living here?"

  "You, John, Sarah and Mark. That's it."

  Sitting up she wraps her arms around her knees, resting her chin on a knee, "How sad is that? Oh, and the police obviously."

  I have to double check all of the footage I've gathered. Alpha says there's another male in her life. If there is, I'll castrate him and choke him with it.

  "You're not hiding a brother or another lover are you?"

  "No. I will not lie to you. I'll never do anything to lose you again. That's a promise."

  "You cannot change human nature, Shauna. You can't make a promise like that."

  She pauses, lifting my foot, kneading it before tracing her tongue over a toe, "Vic, how old are you?"

  "Forty-two."

  Her eyes widen and she returns my foot to rest on the sheet, "You don't look it … or act it."

  "It's late, angel. You should sleep."

  She nods obediently, "Do you want anything before bed?"

  I'm surprisingly satiated. "Just a kiss. A real one."

  She worms her way up my body to deliver it. Her wrist catches my eye with the bandage on it to keep the tattoo moist to prevent scabbing. I smile despite myself.

  I give her half an hour to fall into a deep REM sleep, then I get up and hide in the darkroom. I have to go through the footage to find this elusive male. The cameras have been there since her second day here. If he's been, and she's lied, I'll find it.

  *Seth is a good son. Named after the angel who Adam was fashioned after. Adam paid homage to this fact by naming one of his sons Seth. My angel Seth has finally opened a window of vision into Victor's Darkroom for me.

  Victor seems worried. His calm has deserted him. He struggles, it's obvious to me. Pouring through images in fast forward, he pauses the footage every so often to affectionately stroke her face, running a fingertip over her mouth. His expressio
n changes, it softens. She's infiltrated my warrior. He's been tempted by Eve and does not recognise how close he is to expulsion from heaven.

  My first was expelled. He loved me unconditionally, but he challenged my authority. Why must history repeat itself? This is a cycle we must break or we'll repeat it for eternity.

  This son deviates. After a lifetime devoted to me, he's allowed this one to live longer than he should. But he has marked her, which means she is chosen. Our code of conduct prevents me from interfering at this junction. He has four months left. If she can produce twins, like the truly biblically chosen, I will spare her. Then divine law will save her.

  Victor you have transgressed my son. You languish in the forbidden far more than is necessary. Turn now, instil my command in both your lives, or you will leave me no choice. I disciplined you and armed you. How many must I watch betray me? I'm watching you. The Grigori are never far away. You were chosen my son.*

  Chapter 38

  Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes.

  Art is knowing which ones to keep.

  ~Scott Adams (Photographer)

  There's only one issue gnawing at me now. The darkroom. I've kept no secrets from him. I've laid my life bare for him to scrutinise, risking rejection but ultimately choosing to trust him. Is he hiding something in there? He's never invited me in to share that sanctuary with him. I understand the concept of needing personal space, but I'm both curious and concerned that he's not once shown me the room where he creates his art. Is it that he doesn't trust me? But we've lived through so much together, I've shown him my unwavering allegiance every way I know how, and I know he loves me, but I just need to appease myself that there isn't something horrific in that room. It's the final barrier standing between me and my future.

  I feel so guilty when he leaves to get milk and bread. He said he's in the mood for French toast. Waiting patiently at the window until I'm sure he's gone, I rush with a palpitating heartbeat back to my home across the way. Rifling through the kitchen drawer until i locate the Philips screwdriver. Locking the door behind me I dash back, heading straight to the security panel mounted on the wall next to the safe door of the darkroom.

  I've covertly managed to memorise the security code he enters, but I'm hoping I can undo the wires to the eye scan thingy. Punching in the numbers, I then fiddle with the screws, carefully extracting the until from the wall to stare at the wires in utter bafflement. I haven't a clue what I'm doing, and my hands jittering nervously isn't helping. Slowly, I unscrew the yellow wire, pulling it out.

  Jesus! Dropping it in horror, my entire body jerks with jolting fear when the siren begins wailing. An alarm! Oh fuck. He's installed an alarm. Shit! How do I make it stop? My hands are shaking so much, and I can barely think inside this howling wail, I desperately replace the wire and screw it in, pushing it back into the socket and securing it into the wall. The stupid screwdriver keeps popping out because I'm trembling so much. Shit! Alarm please stop. Please!

  Leaping, twisting when a hand grips me, I face him. Horrified at being caught red handed, I am so ashamed and know my guilt is painted all over me like the garish make-up on a drag queen.

  "I'm sorry."

  My voice is drowned out by the relentless yelling of the alarm. He turns to the panel and puts in a code. The contrasting silence is so absolute, I feel deaf.

  "I'm sorry."

  I know trust is fragile. I bloody know it. And it's hitting me that I've just annihilated the fragile reconciliation we had between us. I'm unable to stare into his mesmerising eyes a second longer. I'm lost for words.

  "I'm sorry," he says.

  Is he mocking me? Daring to look up, his expression confounds me.

  "I'm sorry I didn't open that door for you to avoid a day like today from happening."

  What is he saying? He steps closer to me, embracing me and kissing the top of my head. "Shauna, this is all my fault. I have a surprise in there for you, it's not yet complete." He pulls away to catch my gaze, his eyes warm and seductive, "Give me one more day and I'll show you that room. Okay?"

  I’m desperate to ingratiate, to begin earning his trust again. "Victor, I am so ashamed. I should have asked you. I messed up again."

  "You're human, Shauna. You simply keep reminding me you are. But I'm both compassionate and forgiving." Kissing me insistently, he adds as he draws apart from my mouth, "I hope you'll remember that. We can discuss anything. My heart is open and waiting for you to walk into it completely. If this is the reason why you are hesitant, then let's remove that reason."

  Shame envelops me completely. Hiding my flaming face in his chest my voice cracks, "I don't deserve you."

  A thumb wipes my tears away delicately, then he kisses me again.

  ***

  Well look at this. Good thing I have the cameras. My angel has reached the snooping stage. Predictable human behaviour. I tell her to stay out of one place, which is why doubt surrounds me in her mind. It's time I took this hurdle with her. I'll give her those photos of her asleep, in black and white, they are understatedly erotic, she'll feel flattered. It will be my cover. My excuse to pack everything away before showing her that I'm not hiding anything.

  All things considered she has been well behaved. Meek. I like her meek, it is good in the eyes of our Father. I am almost positive that she's pregnant. I've watched her carefully, and know when she's due for her cycle. Although I do know that stress can upset a cycle, this is why I will give her no reason to fear or stress. This time is crucial.

  Moving quickly I panther silently inside, catching her red handed. The shame, oh it's beautiful. Mentally she is afraid of losing me now. Each and every reaction of mine has been calculated and controlled. All of her actions have an obvious consequence. Her mouth gives her emotions away. Cadaver pale, nervous eyes meet mine. One more reason to have you make it up to me, baby. Keep this up and we'll live happily ever after.

  ***

  I feel so much worse that he isn't angry. I wish I could escape, but he doesn't want me going home. He's made it perfectly clear that we're a team now. And team players stick together. Firm hands hold me. Somehow he manages to reveal a staining of disapproval through his touch. I am almost queasy with self-loathing. He trusted me and I betrayed that trust. Now he'll never feel confident leaving me alone again. He'll always wonder what I'm secretly doing.

  "I'm sorry Victor. It's the only time I've ever tried to pry. You keep your thoughts and your life so close to your chest, I am ashamed for doubting, for needing to pry."

  He sits down with me, holding my hand, his eyes are so dark they're almost roasted coffee in hue. "Angel, perhaps I should share more with you? I'm just accustomed to living a solitary existence. I forget that women need answers and explanations for everything. Even my silence and privacy."

  "When's your birthday?"

  "Why?"

  He doesn't seem to want to answer that question at all. "This just reminds me of someone I know. Someone I trusted who after years of being really good friends, I discovered they were simply humouring me. Putting on a front. I never understood it. Why pretend to be a friend when you'd rather not associate with someone?"

  "And you think I'm like this person?"

  "No … well … silence, secrets, certain expressions and giving away only so many details, now it makes me doubt what is real."

  "I'm real. I just don't require retelling anyone my thoughts or my routine or plans. The world will know what I want them to know in my own time."

  "But I share everything with you. And it makes me feel rejected on a subconscious level. As if you don't trust me with the details of you," pointing into his chest, "Deep down inside you."

  "Words are meaningless Shauna. They are simple vibrations pounding on the tympanic membrane. I like to show you what you mean to me. That is my method of communication."

  Taking his lead, I lift his hand and kiss it, "I'm sorry."

  "So am I. I'm sorry that it came to this. If I'd known it mea
nt so much to you, I would have let you in." Lifting my chin to look into my eyes, trying to read them, he says, "If you have questions, ask me. Snooping only makes me feel defensive."

  "I am ashamed and deeply apologetic. I am."

  "I see this. So let's put it behind us now, shall we?"

  "Victor, something inside me broke with the hardships I've endured. I find it so hard to completely trust now. Thank you for being so patient with me. I'm emotionally fragile … I'll try to be better, I promise."

  He smiles, dropping a brief kiss on my head, "Enough of this. You're turning me into a girlfriend. It'll ruin my image."

  Finally smiling, I let him convince me to go shopping with him. How can I blame him for that?

  Chapter 39

  If it makes you laugh,

  if it makes you cry,

  if it rips out your heart,

  that's a good picture.

  ~ Eddie Adams

  A fortnight later I enter my apartment. My home is immaculate. How – when, did he do this all? Feeling coveted, treasured and so precious, I sit down heavily in front of my computer. Quickly switching it on to accomplish what I came to do.

  Staring around in awe at how pristine the place is. He's kept it like a museum. The museum of my pain. Clean, immaculate, and saturated in my invisible tears. Memories attack me. Catching my breath, racing my heart, vividly recalling that guttural rasp. Is he here now? He could be, and I wouldn't know it.

  Shutting out that thought, like a child hiding with her teddy under the covers, I click on the online shopping option. Choosing a few female items to mask my true intention. Searching frantically through the menu, I find it. Clicking on the home pregnancy kit, I place my order. My fingers shaking nervously as I type in my credit card details.