by Prince, DD
She shook the trance off, went back to the bedroom, put a robe on and underwear on and then quietly opened the door and listened. She didn’t hear anyone downstairs so she tiptoed down the stairs.
She found Tristan, sitting in a chair facing the front door, a glass of whiskey in his hand and he looked like shit. The sun was up but he hadn’t slept.
His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, like he’d spent hours just raking his fingers through it in frustration. He had changed from his track pants into a suit. No tie, top few shirt buttons undone, and scruff on his face.
He looked at her and she saw a flash of pain in his eyes. Then he threw the contents of the glass back against his mouth and took a big gulp. Then he whipped the glass against the fireplace and it smashed.
Kyla took a big gulp of air, of nothing. She tightened the sash on her robe and then her palms were on her face.
“I…” she didn’t know what to say.
He shook his head and his mouth contorted sourly.
She rushed the rest of the way to him, climbed onto his lap, pulling her knees up against herself, and then she put her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his neck.
He sat, stone still. Not putting his arms around her, not touching her at all. He was just stiff.
“You’re not coming down from it,” he finally said.
She lifted her head up and looked him in the face, not understanding.
“You peaked last night and today would’ve still been a danger zone because you would’ve been descending. You’re not descending.”
She knew what that meant. That meant the egg had been fertilized.
She put her arms around herself and her forehead back into his throat and felt a swirl of crazy scary emotions.
Fear, sadness, more fear. More sadness. Foreboding.
She looked up at his face.
His eyes looked dead. Dead cold.
There was a knock at the door. Tristan didn’t move. Kyla didn’t move, either. A moment later there was another knock. Tristan continued to ignore it. He was staring off into space with dead eyes and Kyla went to get up but his arms whipped around and caged her in. His palm was on her back. He tightened his grip. She buried her face into him again and closed her eyes. His other hand tangled into her hair.
She heard a key and then the doorknob turned and the door opened.
“Good morning,” she heard Adrian call out.
They must’ve been a sight. Her in his lap, both of them looking like they’d been through a war. They had.
She didn’t look up.
Adrian spoke again, his voice far less cheerful, “I was…I was going to invite you both to breakfast but it looks like this is a bad time. I’ll have food sent here for you both. Tristan, call me when you’re ready to talk.”
“Just Kyla,” Tristan said.
“Pardon?” Adrian asked.
“Just send food for Kyla.”
“Annnnd……should I…”
Dead silence.
“Tristan?” Adrian pushed, “Should I---”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I see.”
There was silence. Adrian didn’t move.
“We’ll talk later,” Tristan’s voice was as dead as his eyes.
“The window is short, Tristan. If we---”
“No!” he barked. His grip on her tightened to the point of pain but she kept her face buried.
Kyla didn’t allow herself to think about what they were talking about. But she knew.
“I’ll have food sent,” Adrian said and she heard the door close and then heard the key as Adrian re-locked it from the outside.
Tristan rose, lifting her up into his arms from his lap, and carried her upstairs and put her in bed. He covered her with the blanket, kissed her on the forehead, and she put her fingertips to his chin cleft. They stared at one another for a beat. Tristan’s eyes warmed and looked like they were filling up with wet. Her chin started to tremble. He kissed her lips softly and then he left, leaving the door open.
Kyla stayed in bed for a long time, just listening to birds singing outside, just laying there in what felt like a trance. She couldn’t dig in and think about this. She couldn’t. There was no way to run from it but she just couldn’t process it right now so instead she just stayed there, staring into space, listening to birds chirp and tweet sometimes happily sometimes sounding annoyed, and then she heard the front door and a few minutes later Tristan stepped back in, put a tray on the nightstand and said, “Eat.”
She shook her head, “I don’t think I can.”
“You have to,” he said softly, not looking her in the eye, and then he left.
She got up and lifted the lid and saw scrambled eggs and ham steak and a dish of blueberries with yogurt plus coffee and orange juice.
She robotically shoveled in every bite, drank every last drop of both, and then she slept like the dead. But then she woke up, looked at the clock, and saw that she’d slept 11 hours, then felt carbonated bile and a sour taste rise in her throat.
She dashed to the bathroom and violently threw up and then on the way back to bedroom she got crippling cramps in her stomach and ended up doubled over, on the floor, unable to move, gripping a spindle on the upstairs railing.
Tristan was there. He was lifting her up.
“Hey?”
“Hurts so bad, Tristan,” she cried, “I ate and then I slept all day and now I feel so sick. My stomach hurts. I puked.” She dissolved into whimpers as pain gripped her whole midsection and squeezed it in an invisible vice. This was like the time after that banquet when she was about to get her period but this pain was about ten times fiercer.
He got into bed with her and held her close but she was in so much pain she couldn’t get into a tight enough ball.
She cried out, “I’m f-f-freezing. More blankets?”
Tristan got out of bed and left and returned with another blanket. He got in and pulled her over to him but then looked down at the bed, “What the fuck?”
He pulled the blankets back. She was about to ask why he’d take the blankets away when she was so damn cold but then she looked down and saw what he saw. The sheets were covered in blood.
He lifted her nightie a little. Between her legs was coated in blood.
She choked on a sob, “Oh my God…”
Tristan roared out this horrible gut-wrenching sound and her eyes darted from the blood up toward his face and that’s when she saw the look of absolute anguish fade and the shadow moved across until his face was grey. His eyes went black. His fangs snapped out and they were fucking huge.
Tristan’s freezing cold hand came to her chest and pushed her back onto the bed and his head descended toward the blood and Kyla heard a crash and a bunch of shouting. And then everything went dark. She passed out.
-9-
She heard voices as she waded into consciousness. She felt an emptiness she’d never felt before. The emptiness wanted to swallow her whole.
She saw Adrian’s face, Lyle’s face, and then she saw black because she let the emptiness have her.
~~~
“Kyla?” It was her father.
“Daddy?” She felt like she was little again. She opened her eyes and realized she wasn’t little. She realized where she was. She was in that cottage, in that bedroom, and she was in a fresh nightgown and in the sleigh bed.
Blood. So much blood.
Tristan!
She bolted upright. But Tristan wasn’t there. Her father was there. Claudio was there. Adrian was there. Adrian sat on the edge of the bed, Claudio stood by the door. Her father was in a chair sitting beside the bed.
“Tristan!” she yelled.
“Tristan’s locked down,” Adrian said.
“Locked down? Like… like Celia?”
“For your protection initially, and now ours as well. We’ll be releasing him as soon as is feasible. We’re still trying to talk him down.”
>
“Down from what?”
“In his words? From turning this place into a bloodbath,” Adrian replied and didn’t crack a smile.
Kyla rubbed her eyes. Her stomach cramped up. She winced.
Lyle passed her a glass of water. She took a sip.
“You’re dehydrated, drink all of it,” Adrian said and put a thermometer in her ear and took a reading while Kyla drank. He looked at it, looked at Claudio, and gave a nod and then Claudio opened the door. Two women in orange scrubs rushed in. Adrian and Lyle rose.
Lyle kissed her on the forehead, “I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
“Wait, where is Tristan. What’s going on?’
Adrian stopped at the door. Lyle and Claudio left.
“You’re going to have a rough night so these are nurses who will help you through it as the rest of that medication runs its course. Tomorrow we’ll talk and we’ll take you to see Tristan. You’ll likely still be bleeding so he won’t be released until you stop.”
“Huh?”
Adrian said, “Claudio is medicated so that he won’t attack you. I’m glad to see it’s working. Myself and Lyle are unaffected because we’re your father and grandfather. It’s helpful that mother nature protected you that way.”
“What’s going on? What medication?”
“You’re in the midst of a medication-induced abortion. Couldn’t be helped. We weren’t ready but Tristan didn’t listen to reason. As it’s a supernatural pregnancy it’ll be rough for you. I’m sorry about that. But you’ll survive it.”
And then he left.
Her stomached spasmed and as she doubled over in pain the two nurses moved in and one said, “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”
Kyla was sure she felt her heart shatter into about a million pieces.
~~~
The next morning, one of the nurses tipped a medicine cup toward her mouth with clear liquid, telling her that it was the last of the medication and that she needed to take it. She feebly tried to fight her off but two more women in orange scrubs came in and held her down while one forced the medication into her and then they continued to hold her down while the first nurse did a pelvic exam that felt a little too much like rape, during which she took samples on swabs. They finally left and she finally fell asleep.
It had been a horrible night with pain in her belly, with so much blood she thought she’d die, and with so much pain in her soul she didn’t think she’d ever feel the warmth of daylight again even if she was a foot away from the sun itself. It was the night that took years to end.
Tristan had fertilized her egg and obviously, during that short and vague conversation with Adrian about Kyla’s food demanded that they not abort it and then Granddaddy had done it anyway by drugging her. And then when she started to bleed out, Tristan had gone crazy grey hulk on her and they’d locked him down.
Adrian came in with a breakfast tray.
She glared at him.
“Good morning. Feeling okay?”
She narrowed her eyes, “What do you think?”
He sat on the edge of the bed and put the tray on the nightstand.
“I think you’ll feel better soon.”
“Where’s Tristan? What’s happening?”
“He’s still locked down.”
“Tell me. Tell me everything that happened.”
“Well, he lost it and then we had him daggered. We almost lost you. Thankfully, that was avoided. I think you’ll be glad things worked as they did once you look back on this.”
She said nothing in response.
“You should eat.”
“Need to feed me more drugs?”
“No. Not today.” He smirked.
“Go fuck yourself!” she spat.
He got to his feet, “When you stop bleeding, let me know. If you haven’t said anything in three days, we’ll have another exam done so don’t waste your efforts hiding it.”
“When can I see him?” Kyla asked.
“When you’ve stopped bleeding.”
“But…”
“And don’t think about lying about the fact that you’ve stopped bleeding when you haven’t. You’ll put yourself at risk if you do, so we’ll have a pelvic exam done to confirm it.”
“So what do I do in the meantime?”
“You don’t need to stay in your room. You can even enjoy the meadow around the cottage. You’re a good distance from the other buildings so you’re safe here. We have several nurses and orderlies here to watch you.” He winked, “I need to go.”
“How are you locking Tristan down?”
“It hasn’t been easy. He was very unruly. He’s particularly unruly due to that nectar infusion. It’s astounding how strong he is and he broke through several locks until we found a solution. I’ve lost a lot of men, actually. I think he’d benefit from at least a full regular cycle before getting you pregnant again, maybe two. Maybe next ovulation he’ll actually listen to reason. I need to go see to some things. If you need anything, ask one of your nurses for me and I’ll come straight away. Your father is here to see you.”
Before getting me pregnant again echoed in her mind.
“I don’t wanna see anyone. You do know you’ve murdered your great grandchild, don’t you?” Kyla spat acidly, regretting the words as soon as they came out of her mouth because saying them aloud would mean she had to face what’d happened.
Adrian looked like he was choosing his words carefully. “That wasn’t done lightly, believe me. But there is much to be done before we go down that road. Tristan wouldn’t listen to my recommendations for keeping you safe while you were fertile and this was the consequence. It had to be this way. Your father is leaving for Monaco today. He’s in the hall so I’ll let him in now so you can say goodbye.” He flashed her a big smile and excitedly left.
“Asshole,” she mumbled and heard him laugh from the other side of the door and say, “She definitely is a spitfire. Gets it from my side.”
The door opened and Lyle was standing there.
“May I come in?”
She shrugged, suspecting he was asking as a courtesy but had every intention of coming in regardless of her response.
“I just wanted to say goodbye. For now. I need to get home. Are you feeling alright?”
“No. Not at all. But what does that matter to you? Adrian drugged me and killed my unborn child, your grandchild, but I’m good. Yeah, whatever.”
“I am sorry, Ky.”
“All for the cause, right?” she snickered and shifted so that her back was to him.
He rounded the bed and sat on the side she was facing, “I hope that in time you’ll come to understand how important you are, that you and I can build a friendship.”
She snickered again.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, “I’m not who I was. I can’t relate to those human emotions but I have recollections that tell me that as far as human relationships go, you meant an awful lot to me. I feel affection for you. I’m proud to be your father, to have helped bring you into this world. For what that’s worth. Be well, Kyla. See you on the other side.”
The other side? What, when she was forced to be a vampire? When they were done all their pre-turning experiments on her?
“Wait. Do I have brothers or sisters?” she asked.
He gave her a sad smile and shook his head and then the door closed. He was gone. She shook her head. She didn’t know if that head shake of his was sympathy or a ‘no’.
The emptiness didn’t feel bigger for the loss of Lyle Spencer, rather Lyle Kelly. All she felt the loss of right now was the loss of Tristan. She couldn’t let herself feel the other loss she was suffering from. She didn’t know how she’d ever let herself feel that loss. It’d only been a few hours from conception to death for a tiny bundle of cells but that bundle of cells would’ve been a product of their love. Would’ve become a person. She pushed those thoughts away.
She reached out to Tristan in her head, in her heart, and she did
n’t know what she wanted him to feel but she hoped he would feel her, that he’d know that she was thinking about him.
She didn’t think much time had passed when she heard the door open again. She turned over and was face to face with Tristan’s mother.
Holy shit.
The woman stood at her beside.
“Up. Get dressed. We’re taking a walk.” She clapped her hands in a “chop chop” manner. Her face then went sour and she muttered, “Smells like despair in here,” with disgust. She left.
Kyla didn’t feel like she had a whole lot of choice in the matter so she got up and saw that all their dirty clothes had been laundered and folded and were in a pile on top of the dresser beside the Puma duffle bag. She went to the bathroom with a pair of yoga pants, underwear, socks, and her thin cotton hoodie. It covered below her butt, thankfully, and would hopefully camouflage the ginormous overnight pad she was wearing.
Her stomach felt raw. She was bleeding pretty heavily when she went to the bathroom. She changed the pad, put in a tampon as well, and then washed up and put her hair up in a half ponytail, half bun and brushed her teeth. She could barely handle looking in the mirror, though. At a quick glance of herself all she could think about was him. Where did they have him? Was he himself?
She found Tristan’s mother near the front door. The woman was tall, taller than Kyla and beautiful. Her face was unlined, although she looked to be in her early to mid forties, and she was elegant and graceful. Clearly Tristan got his movie-star looks honestly. She was wearing riding clothes and riding boots.
“Kyla,” she held out a gloved hand and removed it and then reached for Kyla’s hand. Kyla shook it.
“Taryn Walker. Shall we?” She opened the front door and gestured for Kyla to go ahead.
The sun felt hot on her skin but inside she felt cold and empty.
“Are we going to see Tristan?” Kyla asked, finally, as it looked like they were heading toward the main house.
“No. Just a stroll.”
“Have you seen him? How is he?”
“I haven’t today yet but I saw him yesterday. He’s…agitated.”
“Is he himself?”
“Yes. More himself than ever,” she got an evil gleam in her eye.