Dance Until Dawn

by Berni Stevens

  My companion grabbed the woman by her frizzy hair in a movement almost too fast to follow. She suddenly bared gleaming fangs, and sank them into the hussy’s dirty neck, drawing a bubbling fountain of warm blood from the jugular vein. I made a startled noise of disgust, but the moment I saw the blood, a thirst stirred within my body – an all-consuming thirst such as I had never felt before. She pushed the nearly unconscious woman towards me. Almost as one hypnotised, I drank from the wound. God help me. I fed on a helpless woman.

  ‘Very good, William,’ my maker, Khiara, purred. She leaned forward to take the prostitute’s limp body back from me. To my horror and eternal shame, I did nothing as she broke her neck with one callous snap, and threw the broken body into the gutter.

  ‘We do not make many new vampires,’ she remarked casually, wiping her dainty, blood-covered hands on a silk handkerchief. ‘We prefer to keep our numbers to a select few.’

  I still stared at Khiara, rendered speechless by the night’s events.

  ‘We are the undead. Vampyre. Nosferatu,’ she said. ‘There are many names for us.’ She trailed cold fingertips down either side of my face, and stared at me with her incredible fathomless eyes, the like of which would never be seen in any human countenance.

  ‘I made you, William, and you now belong to me. Together we shall travel the world, and cause mere mortals to weep in despair and fall at our feet.’

  Chapter Eight

  Truth

  The first breath shuddered through my body and forced me to sit up. My eyes snapped open and I gasped aloud from the ferocity of regaining consciousness. I closed my eyes again immediately when the light came on and almost blinded me.

  ‘I am here.’ Will’s voice sounded calm. ‘It is all right.’

  My body continued to shudder uncontrollably as I felt him come nearer to the bed. I hugged my arms around my body, and, after a while, looked up at him. He had dressed in his customary black t-shirt and faded denim jeans, with a black leather belt pretending to hold the jeans up, although they didn’t appear to need any help. His dark hair gleamed in the artificial light, and he stood with his hands on his hips as he regarded me seriously.

  ‘Have you been here all the time?’ I asked, finding words difficult to form and my voice hoarse.

  ‘I wanted to be here when you awoke,’ he replied.

  He was like a politician, never answering the damn question. He bent down to pick up a mug from the floor, which he handed to me with a glimmer of a smile. ‘Breakfast in bed.’

  I took the mug with trembling hands, and began to sip the contents slowly. Strangely, the Thirst hadn’t made its presence felt yet. I dreaded the pain of that more than anything else.

  ‘Hopefully the early feeding will prevent the pain,’ he said, answering my thoughts again.

  I continued to drink from the mug until it was empty. Will took it back from me without a word and left the room. I knew he was filling it from some poor ‘donor’ he’d found. He reappeared and handed me the refilled mug.

  When I’d finished, my head cleared and I felt good, apart from a slight burning sensation in my stomach that I chose not to mention. It didn’t seem to be as bad as usual, so I decided to ignore it.

  ‘Bath or shower?’ Will asked, raising dark eyebrows.

  ‘Bath,’ I replied.

  He nodded and gestured for me to follow him upstairs, which, like a good little fledgling, I did. The bathroom looked inviting, but then anything would be inviting after the dank and miserable cellar room. Apart from another dank and miserable cellar of course.

  Will put the brass plug in place, and turned on the taps. He took the cap off one of the bottles, and poured it liberally into the running water.

  ‘Plenty of bubbles,’ he said. ‘Embarrassment free.’ His eyes sparkled with wicked glints, and I narrowed my own at him suspiciously. He put the cap back on and replaced the bottle.

  ‘I shall be back in about thirty minutes or so,’ he said. ‘Will you be all right?’

  ‘I’ve been having baths on my own for about twenty years,’ I said sarcastically. ‘I think I can manage.’

  ‘Your clothes are in the dressing room,’ he said and I stared at him in surprise. ‘I am trusting you to not leave, or set fire to my house in my absence.’

  ‘Are you insured?’

  ‘For around ten million,’ he replied. ‘But please curb any arsonist tendencies all the same.’

  ‘Your house will be safe with me,’ I said, and he nodded, leaving the bathroom by the other door.

  Well, that was a turn up for the books. Will hadn’t locked me in. A vast improvement. But I didn’t say I wouldn’t look around did I? I listened for any sounds but heard nothing, so, unable to contain my curiosity, I opened the door opposite. It opened onto a bedroom, although merely calling it a ‘bedroom’ didn’t do it justice.

  The room was dominated by a huge oak four-poster bed. It looked pretty ancient to me, with beautiful carvings decorating the posts and the headboard. Dark-blue velvet drapes hung down from the top and surrounded the bed, almost reaching the floor. Two matching velvet upholstered chairs stood one on either side of the bed, and a carved oak chest stood against the far wall. The floor consisted of aged oak floorboards, no doubt polished many times over the decades, and which gleamed softly in the dim light. Expensive-looking rugs were scattered about the floor and the overall effect was one of luxurious, but masculine, elegance. I wouldn’t have expected anything less for Will. There were no windows, so I assumed the room was in the basement.

  I wondered how many floors there were to this house. Although if it was indeed Georgian, as Will had once said, the chances are there would be four. I knew there were quite a few Georgian houses in Highgate and Hampstead, I’d often walked around, admiring them, and wishing I could have a look round inside. Little did I know I’d end up a prisoner in a cellar of one of them. Perhaps I’d even walked by this very house, never dreaming a vampire owned it. Not the kind of thing one dreams about after all – well not in the sane world anyway.

  I hadn’t taken much notice of my surroundings the night we’d walked to Highgate tube station, but I remembered it took about fifteen minutes or so to get there. By my reckoning I thought we were probably somewhere near Swains Lane. Highgate West Hill perhaps, Holly Terrace or maybe Oakeshott Avenue. All those streets had beautiful Georgian houses. But that would put Will’s house strangely close to the famous cemetery. You’d have thought he’d want to keep well away from the tourists and Goths who frequented the cemetery. Maybe it appealed to his sense of humour. I didn’t know him well enough to comment.

  I walked across the bedroom to the large double doors in the far wall. I opened them to discover what Will had called the ‘dressing room’. It was nearly as large as the master bedroom with a double bed against one wall and cupboards along another. I pulled open one of the cupboard doors, and my clothes were indeed hanging neatly together on one side. I rifled through until I found a short denim skirt, a black sweater and my long, black boots. I discovered underwear and a pair of black tights in a drawer beneath the wardrobe. A mite presumptuous, I thought, putting my clothes in here. Although in fairness there was no sign of his own clothes.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Will’s deep voice came from behind me, and I started guiltily, turning around with an armful of clothes.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosey—’ I began, flustered.

  ‘Yes you did,’ he said. ‘So, do you like it?’

  ‘Yes of course, it’s beautiful.’

  ‘Good. I was not looking forward to re-decorating.’ He turned and went through to the master bedroom and back into the bathroom. I followed with a last look at the lovely bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  ‘When you promised not to set fire to my house, I did not expect you to try and flood it instead,’ he said dr
yly as we entered the bathroom to see the huge sunken bath very nearly full.

  ‘I forgot about the taps,’ I said. ‘Is that your bedroom?’

  Will was busy turning off the taps, and when he looked at me his expression was carefully blank. ‘Well, let me see,’ he said, sitting on the edge of the bath, and folding his arms. ‘This is my house and no one lives here but me, and now you, so I suppose it must be my bedroom.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think much of your hosting skills,’ I said. ‘Locking me in a cellar while you sleep there.’

  He ran his fingers through his thick dark hair and his eyes shone mischievously as he looked at me. ‘Any time you wish to share, you only have to say.’

  ‘You wish,’ I said, trying for cool, but sounding embarrassed instead.

  He stood up then, and grabbed hold of my arms to pull me nearer. I struggled to free myself but he just laughed. The look he gave me was a hundred percent male, mixed with predatory vampire sex appeal. An unexpected flicker of desire fluttered through my stomach. Although it might have been fear. It was hard to tell the difference.

  ‘Let. Me. Go,’ I hissed. The feel of his lean, muscular body against mine suddenly had a disturbing effect on my self-control. ‘You promised no pouncing.’

  He looked down at me with his amazing eyes, which were now so disconcertingly close, and a slight smile played over his sensual lips. Another surge of unwarranted desire swept through my body and I shivered. He released me as suddenly as he’d grabbed me, and touching my cheek softly with cool fingertips said, ‘I apologise most profusely Elinor, I forgot myself.’

  ‘What makes you think I’ll ever want to sleep with you anyway?’ I said, more angry with myself than him at that moment.

  He smiled with more than a hint of arrogance. ‘You will not be able to resist me forever. I do know that.’

  ‘You arrogant bastard.’ I just felt angry now. Of all the …

  Raising an eyebrow at my angry words, he grabbed me around the waist and swept my legs from under me with a swift, and clearly practised movement, which sent both of us crashing toward the floor. He put out his free hand just before I would have landed on the tiles and lowered us both, very slowly, the last couple of inches. This put him dangerously close and – er – dangerously on top. His body pressed against mine again, and I was now close to panicking. My hands moved automatically to his chest, to put some space between us, and his amused gaze followed the movement.

  ‘Defensive,’ he commented. ‘I really shall have to cure you of that.’

  ‘Are you going to add rape to your list of crimes against me?’ I tried to push him off me.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ he said. ‘Rape is not something I would ever condone, but I have already told you that.’ He stood up swiftly, his legs straddling my body, and looked down at me with a serious expression. ‘So who hurt you?’ he asked.

  I looked at him in amazement. The man was unbelievable and very intuitive. Infuriatingly intuitive.

  ‘I don’t do casual sex,’ I said stalling for time, and this time he did laugh.

  ‘Well, that is blatantly obvious,’ he said. ‘It did not take too long for me to work that out. Although, frankly, I have no intention of being casual about sex with you.’

  He reached down, and offered me his hand to pull me to my feet. As I stood, I noticed his unusually serious expression, and he took hold of my chin between thumb and forefinger, ‘But if he is still around, whoever he is, I will kill him,’ he murmured very softly.

  I stared up at his face again, expecting to see his usual teasing expression, but for once it was absent.

  ‘I have to go back out for a while. Will you be all right alone?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m getting in that bath,’ I replied, and my voice trembled, because I still felt pretty shaken.

  ‘So you are.’ The Will who was always in complete control had returned, almost as though the previous conversation had never taken place. He brushed my lips softly with the pad of his thumb. ‘You really have no idea of your allure do you?’

  ‘Perhaps you’ve lived like a monk too long,’ I said. ‘I think anyone would look good after a while.’

  He frowned and shook his head slightly. ‘Never put yourself down, Elinor, certainly not to me. I shall be about fifteen minutes.’ With that parting comment, he was gone, leaving me to have a solitary bath in peace. I stripped off and got into the bath, luxuriating in the scented bubbles. The bath was indeed so full, I could probably have swum in it. I tried to time fifteen minutes, but I felt so nervous about Will’s return I washed myself in record time, and hurriedly got out of the bath to wrap myself in one of the huge towels.

  I listened for sounds of Will’s return, but the house stayed silent. I pulled out the plug to let the water run away and dried myself. I dressed myself in seconds, which is something I’ve always been good at, as most dancers are. I felt calmer with clothes on, and even happier with my heavy boots on. A swift well-aimed kick in a certain place should deter him from any more of his silly games.

  I couldn’t believe him. One minute he apologised, and the next, he pounced again. Infuriating, arrogant …

  I wondered how long he would be, and looked at the bedroom door. Would he be angry if he caught me snooping upstairs? Did I care? What the hell, he’s already killed me, turned me into a vampire, shut me in a cellar – oh, and he even expects me to like him into the bargain – and eventually sleep with him too. I decided I was definitely allowed to snoop.

  I opened the door to the bedroom and went in there again. I spotted another door opposite the double doors, so I made for that and opened it. It revealed stairs going upwards, which were carpeted in the same dark blue as the drapes that hung around Will’s bed. I went straight up those stairs of course.

  I remembered the parts in horror movies where the heroine goes either up or down a dimly lit staircase, the music rises to a crescendo and the whole audience is thinking, ‘Is she mad? Why is she going up (or down) those stairs?’

  Well, here it was for real, except I was supposed to be one of the scary monsters now. Not that I could ever beat Mr Spooky when it came to being scary.

  At the top of the stairs, I found myself in a large reception hall, with a Georgian front door. Several other doors led off the hall, and an elegant staircase wound its way up to the other floors. Behind one of the doors, a telephone started to ring, and I jumped. Oh yeah, I was really good at being scary. After a few rings, an answerphone clicked in and I recognised Will’s voice, inviting the caller to leave a message. A deep voice with an American accent spoke then, ‘This is Honyauti. I shall be with you in two weeks’ time.’ I heard the click of the call being terminated.

  I stood in the hall and debated whether to go on upstairs, or look in the room with the telephone. At least in the movies you could tell by the music which room to go in, or when things were about to get truly scary.

  I heard a door shut downstairs. Feeling like a guilty child, I went quickly downstairs to the bedroom, arriving just as Will came through the other door.

  He eyed my short skirt appreciatively. ‘Been looking around again, Elinor?’ He gave a slight smile. ‘Shall I give you the official tour, then?’ adding, ‘Trust a woman to want to look everywhere.’

  ‘If I wasn’t always shut in the cellar, maybe I wouldn’t be so nosey.’

  ‘I have already said that my bed is your bed. Whenever you wish to share it, you have only to say,’ he gave a nonchalant shrug.

  He never gave up.

  I followed him up the stairs I’d just come down. As we reached the reception hall, I turned to him. ‘You’ve got a phone message.’

  ‘And did you just happen to hear who was calling?’ Will’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  ‘Yes, someone called Hon-y-owtee or something.’

  He smiled and headed
for the door to his right. I followed, not wanting to miss the chance of seeing another room.

  We went into a large drawing room, where a magnificent fireplace dominated part of one wall. It looked like an original Georgian fireplace to me, but I’m no expert. All the walls were plain ivory in colour, and unadorned by any pictures. The large windows were concealed behind heavy wooden shutters, and deep red velvet curtains were draped in front of them. A double safety measure, I supposed, in case Will strolled in during the afternoon. I’d already discovered that he ‘slept’ less than I did.

  A large dark-red leather chesterfield stretched along one wall, with an old pine chest in front of it, which was clearly being used as a table, seeing as it had cigarettes, matches, and a pile of newspapers on it. Both recesses on either side of the fireplace contained bookshelves stuffed to overflowing with books of all shapes, sizes, and ages; so it appeared even centuries-old vampires read books.

  There was a huge state-of-the-art, flat-screen television on the opposite wall, with a small table underneath on which a DVD player sat. I felt surprised at seeing them; somehow I’d imagined Will would be a complete technophobe. But I suppose time weighs heavily when one has an eternity to find amusement.

  Several red leather armchairs, which matched the colour of the sofa, were scattered around the room, and beautiful oriental rugs graced the polished wooden floorboards.

  The telephone rested on top of a carved antique cabinet and the answer machine was indeed flashing. Will pressed a button and played the message.

  ‘Good,’ was all he said. He reached for the cigarettes and, putting one between his teeth, picked up the box of matches. As he struck a match, the light from the flame illuminated his face briefly, accentuating his chiselled features, and I had a flashback again to the fight I’d had to get free from the grave, and how I came face to face with him. He flicked the match into the fireplace and regarded me with his steady gaze. ‘What is it?’