Darkness In The Flames

by Kelly, Sahara

  “I’d guess we’re talking about the early fifteen hundreds or so.” He’d listened to Verity accurately describe clothing and Thérèse’s family environment. He was astounded by the tiny comments that illustrated how clearly all of them had lived this terrible thing. They had drunk not only Rowan’s blood, but Thérèse’s as well, the blood she’d released into Rowan along with her agonies.

  It must have been powerful stuff indeed to result in such amazing clarity.

  Sidney waved them on and Nick took up the tale, beginning the process of describing Thérèse’s torture at the hands of the Hun.

  Rowan started to tremble as he listened, shudders that were obvious to Sidney’s sharp gaze. He noted Marcus’ arm slide reassuringly around the other man’s shoulders, a comforting touch that seemed to ease him a little.

  Nick faltered to a halt. “I don’t know if I can go on.” He wiped tears away from his eyes. “To think that people can do that to one another.”

  “They are not people, Nick. They’re animals.” Katherine spoke with force. “Animals that have naught but power on their minds.”

  “Agreed.” Verity added her opinions. “Let me finish the tale—if I can.” She swallowed. “It went on. On and on. How Thérèse survived these tortures, I cannot begin to guess, but she did. Always believing—always insisting she was innocent.”

  When Verity stumbled over Katya’s name, a silence fell in the room. A hush even Sidney was loath to disturb.

  “She was dead. Such a cold tiny figure, no more than a child, really. She had suffered. Thérèse knew that without question—the blood, the strangely twisted neck…” Verity whispered the words. “I think Thérèse went insane at that moment.” She gulped back tears. “I cannot blame her.”

  “Nor I.” Katherine added her emotional endorsement through tears that fell unchecked. “The savage agony of holding a dearly beloved sister, of knowing that it was indirectly a result of her actions that this life had been so horribly ripped away…”

  Rowan choked. “It was the Hun, then?”

  Adrian nodded. “Thérèse was sure of it. She did not see it, but she seemed quite convinced.”

  “That filthy godforsaken bastard.” Rowan’s fists clenched on his thighs even as he too cried for little Katya and her fate.

  “There were many such bastards, Rowan.” Sidney tried to keep his voice level, to quell the horror that even he was experiencing at this terrible tale. “The hunting and questioning of witches was common practice, I’m afraid. Those were difficult times in which to survive. Crops would fail. Plagues would come and go. In their ignorance, people did not look for the logical or scientific reasons. They looked for their answers in the mystical realm or in their religion.”

  He shook his head. “Too often a witch would be blamed for a poor wheat harvest when an insect was probably the culprit. Bad hygiene resulted in devastating illnesses, but instead of bathing, villagers would hold a woman responsible, claiming witchcraft once more. ‘Twas easier to hang a witch than try and understand the intricacies of science. Especially when you could not read or write.”

  Everyone was silent for a moment, appreciating the truth of Sir Sidney’s words.

  “So after all this—the torture, losing Katya, losing perhaps her very mind…” Rowan looked at Adrian. “How does it end for Thérèse?” He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again. “I must know, Adrian.”

  “Very well. But this is where it becomes strange. Where things happen I cannot explain rationally.”

  “No matter, my son. Tell us anyway. You must all tell us what you saw and what you felt. It is very important.”

  “I know.” Adrian nodded and collected his thoughts. “There was a woman. A very old woman who could have been already in the cell or just arrived. I cannot say. She appeared to Thérèse just as she thought death was surely upon her.”

  Sidney felt the ripple of excitement shiver up his spine. Perhaps now they would learn of the transition to vampire. “Go on.”

  “She spoke strangely. Told of the approaching end of her existence, which she said had been several hundred years long. She offered Thérèse the chance for immortality and revenge on those who’d—who had done such appalling things to Katya.” He choked.

  Katherine took over. “Thérèse barely heard her, but began to drift—as if death was sweeping over her at that point, I’m not sure. Her injuries were severe, her sister dead beside her. When the woman offered her eternal life it seemed unreal—like a vision from beyond the grave or something.”

  Verity nodded. “I felt a stirring within Thérèse. A heat—an anger still alive though almost everything else that made her human was gone. Her temper was not dead, not obliterated by the Hun’s torture. So she took the old woman’s offer.”

  Nick interrupted. “The woman said she was offering the gift because of Katya.”

  “Katya?” Sidney looked at Nick.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “She said she’d loved a man once and borne a child. I got the sense he’d repudiated both her and his child, turned them away, betrayed them in some way with foul curses. The child—a daughter, I think—had died. She’d cursed him in her turn, hated him and in return she had received this immortal boon. I don’t know from where or from whom. She didn’t say. But she’d been able to extract her revenge. Thus when she saw Thérèse and Katya—she simply passed the gift along to another woman who needed it.”

  “And then she died?” Sidney knew this was no idle question. The key to Thérèse’s destruction might well be in the last few seconds of this tale.

  “Immortality apparently has its limits, Father.” Adrian’s eyes were somber. “The woman disintegrated into dust. I do not know how long it took or how the change took place. I do know the woman fed from what was left of Thérèse. I can only assume she was strong enough to make Thérèse feed from her, since Thérèse eventually found herself whole and perfect once more. That part is unclear.”

  “To all of you?” Sidney looked around, only to have his question answered by four nods.

  “Yes, I cannot say how she was changed.” Katherine was thoughtful. “I do know she did not feel anything, although I suppose that’s not surprising given her physical weakness and how close she was to death anyway.”

  “I do know one thing.” Verity sat up straighter. “It’s a story riddled with betrayal. Every time you look around, Thérèse is betrayed.”

  “Betrayed by this Simon Montreaux. A lover who used her and then indicted her to serve his own greed and selfish wishes.” Adrian’s voice was harsh.

  “Betrayed by her body as she responded to the two witch hunters and seduced them into caring for her.” Katherine sighed.

  “They did, didn’t they?” Verity looked at her friend. “They only spent one night with her, but it was enough to bring some humanity, some affection to their hearts. She had such life and passion within her.”

  Katherine nodded. “Yes, they did. I’m sure of it.”

  “But then her own refusal to confess—the stubbornness to succumb to her torture—that betrayed her once again.” Nick sounded thoughtful.

  “I don’t see it quite that way.” Adrian shook his head. “She was innocent, Nick. By that time no matter what she’d said she would have been executed.”

  “Agreed.” Nick tipped his head, acknowledging Adrian’s point. “But…that very refusal to confess resulted in Katya’s death.”

  Once more a painful silence fell until Nick swallowed harshly and continued. “Had she confessed to being a witch earlier, Katya would have been spared. For Thérèse it was yet another betrayal, one of her own doing. She was continually betrayed, Adrian. By those around her and by herself.”

  “By herself most of all.” Rowan’s voice sounded hoarse. “How she must have hated herself. Her beauty, her body, her temper, her stubbornness—all the things that made her what she was.” He sighed. “They all contributed to a betrayal with results that are well-nigh unspeakable.”

  Si
dney had to agree. “And I would imagine that toward the end, her capacity for rational thought was fading. A human body simply cannot go through such punishment without the mind seeking refuge. She apparently remained conscious for long periods of time. Long enough to be aware of what was happening to her. Most certainly indicating a strong woman with an even stronger will to survive. But there was a cost, I’m thinking. She did survive, but perhaps lost her ability to think clearly, to reason—she was reduced by this abuse to little more than an animal. A creature only capable of fighting for survival but not much else.”

  The conversation continued, each contributing, discussing, each recalling small details that painted a clearer picture for Sidney. He absorbed it all, encouraging them to talk of everything and anything they remembered.

  He was particularly interested in the old woman, questioning them closely about her words, persuading them gently to repeat everything she’d said as accurately as they could. An idea was taking shape in his mind—something so unexpected that he knew he needed time to consider all the implications of it.

  Eventually Verity yawned. “I believe dawn is approaching.”

  Sidney glanced out the windows. “Yes. You all need rest.”

  As one, they stood. Katherine reached for Adrian much as Verity stood close to Nick. They seemed to crave the comfort of their mates, and Sidney could not fault them for that. The humanity they all still shared would need such closeness, such love, to heal the scars left on their souls by their experiences during this eventful night.

  He watched quietly as Marcus immediately went to Rowan and slipped an arm around his shoulders once more. It was both a protective and a reassuring gesture. Sidney almost envied these two men their friendship. The sensitivity to each other’s emotions, the silent understanding they shared—it was beyond Sidney’s experience and for a moment or two he wondered what it would be like to have a friend like that.

  Sighing, he levered himself from his chair and reached for his cane. “Go to your rest, my friends. We have much to think about now. New questions to ask and new answers to consider. And I, for one, am very tired.”

  Adrian glanced at him. “Are you all right, Father?”

  Sidney smiled briefly. “Yes. I will be. I just need to think for a little. And I need some sleep.”

  The others left then, silent and close they filed out of Sidney’s study, heading for the darkness that would claim them as the dawn arrived. It would bring them rest, a blessed void into which they could sink undisturbed by troubling thoughts.

  They needed it.

  So did Sidney, but he doubted he would get it. He’d heard too much, felt their pain and shared their anguish. The savagery of humankind still had the power to astound him, it would seem.

  And he had new information now, information that was crucial to deciding on their path from this point on. Would it be enough to destroy Thérèse? He did not know. Nor was he sure the others could now pursue that goal.

  How could they end an existence that had begun so innocently? How could they kill a creature that had become what she was through no fault of her own?

  Sidney had no answers. Just more and more questions. He sighed and took himself off to his own room to get what rest he could.

  Chapter Thirteen

  To Rowan’s surprise, Marcus followed him into his bedroom and began removing his clothes.

  “Marcus, I…”

  Brown eyes glanced at him. “I know. I’m not here as a lover, Rowan. Not tonight.”

  “Oh.” Rowan slowly undressed. “Then why…?”

  “You need somebody at this moment. A friend to lie beside you. Hold you. Remind you that you’re still human.” Marcus turned back the coverlet and crawled beneath it, sliding over to make room for Rowan. “I will not let you sleep alone, my friend. Not tonight.”

  Sighing, Rowan slipped onto the bed beside Marcus. “You’re right.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t know how you know, but yes. Having you here, knowing you’ll be here when I wake—well, it’s a comfort I hadn’t thought of. But I appreciate nonetheless.” Rowan swallowed and settled comfortably on the pillow, realizing how much he did need Marcus’ companionship.

  “Can you handle all this?” The question was a loaded one, posed in simple terms but complex in content.

  “I don’t know.” Rowan closed his eyes. “To think what she suffered. To even begin to imagine the horrors, her pain, her anguish—I don’t know, Marcus. My heart is bleeding for her, my soul writhing with hers.” He opened his eyes again and turned to his friend. “I love her so much. I would have spared her this if I could. I would tear those fiends apart with my bare hands had I the chance.”

  Marcus reached for him, stroking his chest soothingly. “As would I. As would we all. It explains so much too. Her years of taking men, toying with them, killing them without compunction at her whim. Feeding from them. Occasionally turning them into what she herself had become.”

  “She’s nearing her end, I think.” Rowan spoke idly but it dawned on him that perhaps that was more than a supposition. “She’s not aging as we understand it, but perhaps her limits are approaching.” He shrugged. “’Tis just a notion.”

  “It would explain a few things. The changes in her behavior, which you’ve all mentioned now and again. Her injuries from Sidney’s holy water, the fact that she appeared to me without summoning me. Her powers may be weakening. Yet I would not underestimate her, Rowan…”

  “No, I do not. Even though I ache for her, in every fiber of my body. Even though I would willingly die for her if it would lessen the burdens she carries. Can you imagine, Marcus?” He reached out and clasped his friend’s hand, holding it tightly against his chest. “Can you imagine how it must be to spend centuries with that kind of horror buried and festering in one’s soul?”

  Marcus shook his head. “No. ‘Tis beyond my abilities to comprehend.”

  “Mine too.” He shook his head. “And still I love her.”

  “Perhaps you see the woman she once was, Rowan. You saw past the horror and the anguish, past the desire for revenge. You fell in love with the spirited girl who refused to submit to outrageous charges. Who protested her innocence, rightly or wrongly, with a strength of character I cannot help but admire, even now—even knowing what she is and what she’s done to you all.”

  “Perhaps. I don’t know. I can’t even describe what love is, anymore.”

  “You don’t need to put it into words. I know.” Marcus lifted their joined hands and brushed them across his cheek. “I’ve found one kind of love with you, Rowan. A kind that has become a friendship I value above all others. And you’ve found a love with Thérèse that goes beyond the normal definition of love. Nothing she’s done, nothing she could do, would change that love. And now that you know why she is the way she is—you love her even more.”

  A shudder racked Rowan’s chest as he bit back a sob. “I weep for her, Marcus. I want to kill something or someone for her. I want to make the pain go away for her. And for me.”

  Marcus gathered Rowan close, a touching of warm skin to cool flesh that broke the dam inside Rowan’s heart. He cried then, a welling of emotions too great to be held back any longer.

  Safe in Marcus’ arms, Rowan let his feelings release themselves in shattering sobs, an eruption of everything he’d held in check while listening to the atrocities committed against the woman he loved.

  He cried for the pain she’d suffered, the agonies inflicted upon her body. He cried for the frustrations she’d experienced knowing she was innocent and yet unable to persuade anybody of that fact.

  And he cried for her loss—the terrible grief she must have endured in those long moments when she held the body of her little sister lifeless in her arms.

  When he could cry no more, Marcus held him even closer. “’Tis good to release it, Rowan. To move on from this, to remember this but not to dwell on it. We must use this information, this new picture we have of Thérèse
.”

  Weakly, Rowan nodded.

  “Perhaps Sir Sidney will have some suggestions after what he’s learned. I have great faith in his perceptions. And I think even you can now agree that to end her torment would not be unkind.”

  A great sigh left Rowan’s lungs. “That knowledge both pains me and sustains me. You’re right. She cannot go on like this. She cannot be allowed to wither and disintegrate still suffering as she does. It’s not…” He paused, at a loss for words.

  “Human?”

  Wryly, Rowan’s lips curved in the ghost of a smile. “Odd word to use given the circumstance, but apt I think.” He yawned.

  “Rest now, my friend. Leave it all for a little while. Refresh yourself and let your thoughts settle. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”

  Rowan surrendered to the darkness and shadows of his daily little death, knowing even as he slipped deeper that he was safe with Marcus. His torment would cease as he slept.

  He wondered, with his last waking moments, if Thérèse ever knew such relief.

  *~*~*~*

  “You old devil!” Sidney sat bolt upright in bed, regardless of the fact he’d tossed and turned for hours, only to finally grab less rest than his body needed.

  He was right, dammit. He knew he was right.

  Being mortal, Sidney’s bones ached with weariness, but in spite of that, he had not found ease in slumber. His mind had refused to let go of the situation, twisting it this way and that in his thoughts until he was as weary in his head as he was in the rest of him.

  All his ponderings led back toward one theory. One possible explanation that seemed to stand out head and shoulders above the others. He’d begun by condensing the emotional story down to its fundamental elements, much as he reduced substances to their basic constituents.