Redeemer of Shadows

by Redeemer Of Shadows(Lit)

  Trapped. The word echoed in his heart. She didn’t want to be with him at the cost it would demand of her. The loathing was clear in her voice. She damned what he was and didn’t want it. And he couldn’t blame her.

  His voice became hard, as he harshly commanded, "Stop listening to the rats. Block them from your mind and concentrate on using your eyes. That is why you see only darkness. The power I gave you enhances your senses, but at the cost of another."

  Hathor did as he commanded. Almost instantly, the sound faded as a light began to clear in her vision. Servaes’ face appeared before her, outlined by soft candlelight. He sat back on his haunches, his hands touching only at the fingers, his elbows resting on top of his knees. His head cocked to the side as he gave her a rueful smile, as if to say, See. I told you.

  Hathor looked around. They appeared to be in a cave, only it was of human construction. The floor was littered with age and dust. The walls were old and chipped, but carried the tiled mosaic of woman. Her eyes stared blindly, and a piece of the cheek was missing.

  "Am I a vampire?" she asked finally, turning back to him.

  "No," he answered, unemotional. Inside he trembled. His body didn’t cool in his desire for her. It stung and bit him with its lust. "You are not."

  "But, what am I? I can feel your blood inside me cursing though my veins, pumping in my heart. I can feel every subtle movement of your body as if you were pressed against me. I know that you gave me part of yourself. And I can hear and feel and see clearer than before."

  Servaes watched her pale face. He could see his blood drifting through her eyes in swirls of red, clouding the stormy blue. He knew what she said was true. He felt her just as surely inside of him.

  "If I didn’t give you my blood, you would have died. I saved you." Standing, he turned from her. "We must go. Dawn approaches. We cannot be caught out in the light."

  "But," Hathor gasped, moving to follow him. Her legs felt strong as they walked under a narrow archway. The archway led to an underground street of sorts. Behind them, the candle flickered out. Her eyes adjusted in the darkness, her hearing unable to detect noise in the distance. "I thought you said I wasn’t like you. I should be fine come dawn."

  "Is what I am so terrible?" he asked quietly. His words were low and washed over her with a chill. She couldn’t answer. He didn’t need her to.

  They walked over the old abandoned railroad system, running parallel to miles of sewers, hundreds of feet beneath the surface of London streets, unable to hear the busy world awaking above them. They passed by an old station platform. The door to an abandoned elevator hid in the corner. A curling poster, unreadable for the dust, didn’t sway as it barely clung to a wall. The station had been shut up and forsaken long ago, its narrow archways telling of another life.

  When she didn’t answer, he stopped and turned to her. Her pale countenance shone in confusion. Her bright eyes watched him carefully for answers. He could feel her trying to read his mind. He frowned, understanding she had taken more of him than he first realized. Blocking her probing easily, he said, "In saving your life, I gave you part of myself. You are human, do not worry. But, just as you now possess some of my powers, you also possess my weaknesses."

  "The dawn," she echoed his earlier words. "Sunlight."

  "Oui, sunlight. If you were to go outside in the daylight you would burst into flames," he admitted curtly. Servaes turned from her and continued to walk, his steps once more quickened. She watched his movements, graceful and powerful. Continuing, he said, "To make you like me, I would have had to be the one to drain you of your blood. Then I would give it back to you mixed with mine. That is the way to make a vampire, mademoiselle."

  "So I can never see the sun again?" she whispered, wanting to cry.

  "Oui, you will," he answered. "Slowly you will fade back to as you were. You will be a good deal healthier, but very human."

  "How long will this last?"

  "It is hard to tell," Servaes admitted. "I’ve never bothered to save a human before."

  "Oh." Hathor followed his steps. She wondered what it was that made her so special to attract the attention of the London underworld. She could only assume they were mistaken in her. Seeing Servaes speed up, she moved to keep up with him. Reaching his side, she blurted, "Did you kill that man who kidnapped his granddaughter?"

  "Yes," he answered, unabashed. "I told you as much."

  "And you took the child back to her mother?" she persisted.

  Servaes sighed heavily, uncomfortable with revealing so much about what he had done. "Oui. If you must know the details of it, he was going to have relations with the child that very night. I stopped him."

  "Oh," Hathor shivered in disgust. Seeing the tight pull of his jaw, she decided it best not to press him further. She bit her lips thoughtfully. "Are you taking me home?"

  "No."

  "Why not?" Hathor asked in surprise. "I’ll stay inside all day and tomorrow night you can answer all my questions. I promise not to go by any windows."

  "You will stay with me. The dawn is too close, your house too far. I do not have the strength to take you there." His words were abrupt and stunted. Suddenly, he turned, lifting her into his arms. Hathor gasped at the suddenness of his embrace. And then the world flashed over them like a blur. She buried her head into his chest. The spinning world made her nauseous. Just as quickly as it began, the blurring stopped and Servaes set her down. Again he began to walk. With a gasp, she realized they had moved. Looking behind her, she couldn’t see the station platform they had just passed.

  "Where are we anyway?" Hathor again hurried to keep up with him. She jogged next to his gliding stride.

  "Under the city streets in passages and tunnels long forgotten and buried. It is where we live. Just now I took you through the sewers by the rats you hate so much." Servaes gave her a small smile. His eyes remained passionless.

  "I didn’t see a sewer," she began, only to grab his arm and huddle close. In a frightened whisper, she whispered, "You mean the others are down here?"

  "Are you frightened?" he asked, his eyes trailing to her parted lips. When she didn’t answer, he stated, "They cannot sense you with my blood in your veins. You will be safe for a time, so long as you do not stray from where I tell you."

  "So I’m your prisoner?"

  "If you like," he smirked, amused.

  "Will I have to drink blood?" she wondered aloud with a wrinkle to her nose. "I refuse to kill anyone."

  "Only mine," he answered, sounding bored.

  "Why yours?"

  "Because it is my life in you. If I take it from you, then you will die a painfully agonizing death. If I wean you from me, then you will go back to how you were. You need me to live." His words were cold, but a flash of softness passed through his gaze when he glanced at her. Hathor shivered in response. She felt close to him. She wanted to kiss him, but refused to try. She had to concentrate.

  "Why did you save me?" she questioned in a hush. Her eyes turned down.

  Servaes sighed in exasperation at her endless questioning. He didn’t respond. He didn’t know how. How could he make her understand the centuries he lived? How could he tell her how rare she was, that no one could read her thoughts. He stopped moving, glancing up the sidewall. He turned to her with a teasing grin.

  "This is it. My home," he said at last, not taking his eyes from her. His hand rested gently on her cheek. His words held a silent challenge, as he whispered intimately, "You’re going to have to sleep with me."

  His words sent a chill through her. She closed her eye, letting her face press completely into his palm.

  "Come, chéri." He pulled her again into his arms, lifting her above the ground as they shot up into the air. Finding an entrance hidden high in the ceiling, he placed her inside. Instantly, a soft glow formed at the end of a long tunnel. Commanding behind her, he said, "Crawl forward. There you will find my bed."

  She did as he told her, moving through the narrow tunnel on her han
ds and knees. She couldn’t hear him behind her, but she felt that he was there. Suddenly, the tunnel widened and she was able to stand. Looking around, she saw that it was a circular chamber covered with dust and stone. In the middle, there was a large black coffin trimmed with brushed silver swing bars. It was wider than most she remembered seeing. Spinning on her heels, she gaped at Servaes.

  "I can’t sleep in that," she declared. "It’s a…."

  "Coffin," he supplied with a wry smile. The tips of his fangs glistened playfully. His deep-set eyes delved into her with their piercing elegance. His body moved with the grace of shadows, haunting her skin with the reminder of his cold touch. But his fingers weren’t always cold. Sometimes they were warm and gentle.

  "Yes, that coffin." She waved her hand behind her with a gulp.

  "You have no choice," he answered, seeming to fly behind her. "Again you must listen to me or die. There is no time for other arrangements to be made. Unless you would rather spend the day in another’s coffin? I am sure I can find Ginger. She is more than eager to take you to her bed."

  "That is not funny!" Hathor hissed.

  "Then, I will do?" he inquired, a bit of mocking in his hard voice.

  Licking her lips, she nodded. With a lazy tilt to his narrowing eyes, his body brushed along hers. He leaned over and lifted the coffin’s lid. It came up in one complete piece to stand tall over to the side. Within was white silk lining, cushioned and soft. He nodded his head for her to crawl in. His eyes lit with challenge, wondering if she would refuse. The coffin was large enough to hold both of them, but sleeping together would be tight. There was no way she could escape.

  Swallowing, she eyed him resignedly before doing as he ordered. She was frightened and aroused by the silken feel beneath her palms. Hathor sat. She leaned over and took off her boots and socks, throwing them on the ground next to her. He smiled in amusement, his eyes lighting in mirth.

  "Do you mind?" Hathor asked hesitantly. "I can’t sleep with anything on my feet."

  Servaes shook his head. "Just hurry. The dawn is coming."

  She unbuttoned her jeans and un-tucked her linen shirt. Then, lying down on the flat surface, she looked up at him. Her heart beat as he came over her, crawling with a deliberate slowness. His hand supported his weight by her head. His knees edged in-between her thighs, brushing erotically intimate against her. Her body jerked with liquid fire, burning hot in her veins. He paused, gazing down at her to see her reaction. With one slow bend of the elbow he could be upon her, trapping her supple body beneath his. He could claim the softness of her for his own.

  Hathor’s eyes turned shyly under her lashes. A pink blush lined her cheeks at his hot perusal. His body lowered and fit next to hers, his hips nestling along her helpless thigh, careful to keep the length of his arousal from her flesh. It wouldn’t do to tempt himself further. Then turning, he pulled her to him so that her face was pressed near his chest. Her legs twined within his strong ones, held close in the embrace of a lover.

  "What if I can’t breathe?" she questioned. His powerful hand lifted to close the lid. She snuggled next to his body as the darkness closed in on them. A silence, threatened only by the beatings of their hearts, engulfed them. Her head nestled on the soft satin pillow snuggling delicately beneath his chin. Her breath fanned his neck.

  Servaes grimaced. Her body was torture. Its soft curves and supple texture enticed him with a savage lust. His fingers stiffened and stretched in the effort it took not to caress her. When finally he had his longing under control, he let his hand wrap protectively around her waist. He felt her move, her mind drifting to sleep.

  "Do not worry, ma petite," he murmured against her temple before placing a kiss on her silken locks. He could smell traces of shampoo scented with wild flowers and fallen leaves in the teasing tresses. His mouth ached to taste her, all of her.

  Servaes knew that she was not immune to him. He saw the hesitant desire in her eyes as she looked at him. He could feel the intense heat coming from between her legs as her womanhood pressed near. The sweet nectar of her smell engulfed his senses as the compelling perfume filled the coffin with its wickedly delightful temptations.

  As he said the words, he wondered again why he bothered. "So long as you are with me, you will be protected."

  "Yes," she mumbled, more exhausted than she had ever been in her life. Her head grew light as an unfamiliar swirl of yearning flooded through her heavy limbs. Her body was held frozen. Her hips were intensely aware of where he was. Becoming captured by a sleep more powerful than her lust, only because it carried a hint of death inside it, she breathed, "You are my protector, Marquis le Vampire. I trust you. With you I am unafraid."

  Servaes felt her slip into oblivion. Her body cradled next to him. Her words slapped him across the face like a burst of sunlight. She was foolish to believe herself safe with him. He was more dangerous to her than the others, for he wanted more of her.

  Her feet moved restlessly to dig by the flesh of his ankle. His coffin was spacious but, with two of them inside, their bodies were compelled together. He couldn’t help the smile that lined his lips as he pulled her closer into him. Her chest rose softly in breath, brushing along his cheek as she exhaled.

  Servaes closed his eyes. He knew that he would soon join her in the dark, dreamless world of unconscious sleep. However, before he let himself slip, he pressed another kiss to her forehead, content to not be alone.

  Chapter Eight

  Hathor awoke the next dusk with a moan of contentment. By the relaxation in her body, she imagined she slept for an eternity. And, by the energy humming in her veins, she felt as if the darkness of dreams turned her back into a small, restless child waking up to an adventure.

  Hathor stretched her hands over her head. Her back arched off the softness of her bed. But then, her fingers hit with a hard thunk as they met the solid sides of the coffin. With a jolt, she remembered where she was and opened her eyes. The coffin lid above her was opened. The flickering of candlelight outlined the shadowed ceiling of the cave-like room. Servaes was not by her side, and she couldn’t hear him about. Though the silence meant nothing, he hardly made a noise when he moved.

  Turning over slowly so that she faced the satiny side, she leaned up to peek over the edge. Her heart beat in anticipation, wanting to see him again. It was not to be. She was alone in the small chamber.

  Giving a light yawn, she pulled herself up. She noticed her arms felt stronger than usual. Curiously, she adjusted her hips. Hoping with ease over the side, she landed neatly on the stone floor, seeming to fly in the air rather than jump. But, in doing so, she stubbed her toe on a jagged edge and let loose a sharp, "Aw!"

  Hopping on one foot, she brought her toe up into the candlelight. A tiny smudge of blood ran across the tip. Wiping gingerly at it, she saw that underneath there was no wound from which it could have bled.

  She set her foot gradually back on the floor. Pursing her lips together, she hummed thoughtfully. Then lifting both arms above her head, she jumped, seeing if she could fly. She landed with a thud, not making it more than a few inches off the ground. Hathor laughed at her foolishness.

  Knowing that Servaes was gone, she called to him anyway, "Servaes, are you there?"

  Like she anticipated, there was no answer. Wandering around the oblong room, she noticed a trunk in the corner. It looked very old. With a guilty glance over her shoulder, she lifted the lid. Inside she saw some clothing, a pair of pants and a shirt she remembered him wearing on stage. Thinking of that night, she raised her hand to her mouth to feel her teeth. They were flat.

  Lifting the shirt, she found a used quill and old bottle of ink beneath an antique pocket watch, and stiff parchment resembling the letter he sent her bidding her to meet him in the garden. A smile alighted on her features as she remembered dancing in his arms. It had felt as if he carried her above the earth. She wondered why he kept her alive when everyone else wanted her dead. She knew the others thought she possessed some se
crets. She didn’t. Until the night before, she didn’t even believe in anything supernatural -- let alone vampires.

  Under the parchment was an old book, its words in French, its cover dusty and worn. She ran her fingers across it, setting it out of the way without opening it to see inside. Next, detecting the glint of a locket in the corner, she lifted it. It was very old. Flipping the delicate catch, she opened it up. Inside was the painted miniature of a boy with dark brown skin. His hair was shortly cropped and his eyes glinted with a familiar mischief. He had the same slant to his eyes as Servaes and the same bow to his lips. With a gasp, she realized it must have been Servaes as a child.

  Gently locking the jewelry closed, she placed all the items back inside his trunk the way she found them. It wasn’t much for one man to possess, especially one who lived so many years. He should have been living in a palace, not a cave. With a sad sigh, Hathor closed the lid.

  She realized that the small trunk, the candle, and the coffin were it. Trailing barefoot over the dirty stone, she ran her hands over the barren walls covered with the ancient lace of spider webs. The webbing stuck to her fingers, pulling down from the wall at her gentle persuasion.

  "He must be so lonely," she whispered with heartfelt sorrow to the black and silver coffin. "For this is no home. This is no way to spend an eternity."

  Walking to her boots, she pulled her socks and shoes over her chilled feet. Standing, she needlessly smoothed the padding of the coffin and closed the lid. Not knowing what to do or where to go, she buttoned her jeans, leaving her shirt to hang over them. The white linen was stained beyond repair.

  Hathor went to the entrance of the cave-like home, crawling on her hands and knees into the tunnel. The other side was dark, not giving a hint as to where it ended. If she remembered correctly, there would be no way down. She would be trapped until Servaes came back for her.