The king was silent as he gently lifted a large leaf on an exotic plant. He let it fall back into place, then surveyed the fallen buds he had left in his wake. “You are perceptive.” Evan waited in suspense for the monarch to continue. “Yes, the people should believe that you have returned to your duty in protecting our Destine.”
Evan felt his skin crawl. “The people should believe I've left?” he queried, careful to appear unconcerned with the king's meaning.
For the first time, the king turned and faced Evan. “Come, come, you know we can't afford to have you not protect the girl. A single guard cannot do the job alone.” The king brushed past Evan and began walking leisurely toward the exit of the greenhouse. “We will let it be known that you have left us once more, but you will remain sequestered in your quarters, where you are most needed.”
Evan slammed to a halt at the king's words, anger coursing through his body. The king continued as though nothing had occurred. The guards materialized from between trees and plants, stooping to pick up fallen flowers as they hastened to follow their leader. They ignored Evan completely, taking alternate routes to avoid sharing the narrow path with him. In only moments he was left alone in the conservatory, staring a single trampled rose that had been left behind. He knew he had been dealt with just as effectively.
Є
Several days had passed and Paul had made no progress in getting the girl to speak. She seemed to not even hear him unless he mentioned leaving the suite to get her necessary supplies. He assumed it wasn't so much that she was desperate for his company, but rather that she didn't want to be left alone with Evan. Disturbingly, the girl's only expression of emotion was her overpowering fear of Evan. His presence sent her into such a tailspin that Paul wouldn't have been surprised if she had started convulsing.
As he walked into her room to ask, pointlessly, what she wanted to eat for breakfast, he frowned to see her curled on the floor. No matter how much he coaxed her, the girl would not sleep in the bed. In her usual compliant matter, she would crawl into the bed on command, but she would invariably flee to the floor at the first opportunity. Paul would check on her in the night and cover her with a blanket, though he knew she was lying stiffly awake. Seeing her curled in the corner once more, he resolved to give up a losing battle and let her do what she wanted.
Paul was about to leave the room when he noticed a dark stain on the girl's arm sleeve. Paul recognized the smell of blood, though only a small amount. He grasped the door jamb, half expecting himself to rush into the room and attack the girl; only the elite were allowed to feed, but that didn't stop Paul from experiencing all the desire aroused by fresh blood. Instead, he felt his throat constrict. Her blood didn't smell right. He took a tentative sniff, catching a whiff of something amiss. He hesitated, wanting to investigate further, but not trusting himself entirely. Since the blood was obviously dried and she didn't appear to be in any immediate danger, he turned and left the room, swinging the door almost shut behind him.
As usual, Evan sat in an armchair, reading. Paul cleared his throat, hoping to gain Evan's attention. His superior continued to read, unaffected. Irritated, the guard moved purposefully toward the door.
“And where are you going now?” Evan's voice was bland, the epitome of boredom. Still not looking up from his book, he turned a page and appeared to continue reading.
“I need to get supplies.” Paul moved toward the door once more.
“Don't you think she has enough?” There was the slightest sneer in his voice when he referred to the girl. “You can't be seen coming and going from my quarters so frequently; it will raise questions, especially when I'm not even supposed to be here.”
“Unfortunately, this cannot be avoided, sir.” Paul began to turn to the doorknob.
“I say it can.” Though Evan's voice was no louder, his tone had changed ever so slightly from boredom to subtle steel.
“With all do respect, I disagree, sir.” Paul could hear the defensiveness and anger in his own voice, but he didn't care. What did it matter to Evan what Paul did? Evan couldn't care less about the girl; he barely recognized her existence.
In a flash, Evan was out of his chair. As Paul pulled the door open, Evan slammed it shut. Paul spun to face him, breathing heavily. He took firm control of himself, blew the air out slowly, then grasped the door handle once more. Evan's free hand moved to grip his subordinate's forearm.
“Let go of my arm.” Paul spoke slowly, barely controlled fury clutching his voice.
Evan said nothing, made no move to respect the guard's wishes.
Paul knew it was an unforgivable sin to assault a member of the upper class, no matter how badly he wanted to, so he settled for wrenching his arm out of Evan's grip. Even that act was walking a fine line, one that could cause Paul a lot of pain, but he was too furious to care. “Sir,” he said, his voice dripping sarcasm at the title, “the girl has an injury. She requires medication. Since you can't leave these rooms, I will have to go and procure her some.” His vernacular was so stilted, he knew he'd made his point.
“So you're a doctor now, are you?” Evan leaned casually against the door, crossing his arms across his chest. His tone condescending, yet conversational, he continued, “Tell me, doctor, how life threatening is her condition?”
“Will you just get out of my way?” Paul's patience, and self-control, were quickly waning. His superior's face, not normally unpleasant, turned ugly.
“No, I won't.” For the first time, Evan's voice increased in volume; though far from shouting, he was speaking louder than was normal. “So, what it is, has she complained to you? Demanded even more accommodations?”
“No, sir,” Paul spat back, his ire reigned in once more, though his voice had also increased in volume. “If you took the time to notice, you'd know that she has not spoken at all since she was extracted.”
Evan scoffed, shook his head. “And you're falling for all of this? For her pathetic little game? All she wants is attention.” Evan was once more speaking in a calm collected voice. “Poor little Paul, the dupe of her game.” Evan clicked his tongue a few times. “When are you going to realize she's just a typical mortal, dying for attention?”
Paul clenched his teeth, reminding himself that it wasn't worth striking Evan, no matter how much he wanted to. “Once again, sir, with all due respect, you haven't spent enough time with her to know up from down. It's not a ruse. She won't even sleep in a bed because she is left feeling too exposed.” His voice rose in volume again, though he tried to keep it in check. “Her arm began bleeding some time in the night, and I believe the wound is infected.”
“She most likely did it to herself, as a way of luring you in even deeper.”
“Oh, and I suppose that this self-inflicted wound was able to become so infected that I can smell it, even in dried blood, after, what, a week? You'd better--” Paul broke off mid-sentence when he noticed Evan's gaze shift and his jaw lock. Spinning around, Paul saw the girl standing behind him, looking upset. She had actually ventured out of her room, the first time she had done so since her arrival. She stood next to an end table, fingers resting lightly on its surface, forehead wrinkled in concern and fear. She stood as though on the verge of collapsing in on herself. Paul immediately lowered his voice and spoke in more soothing tones. “It's all right. Everything is fine.” The girl fidgeted nervously, shifting her weight back and forth, continuing to look at Paul. When Evan moved away from the door, she immediately stepped back, knocking a small ceramic bowl from the table. Turning, she bent to pick it up, her sleeve riding up to expose her forearm. The sight made Paul feel as though he were walking down a flight of stairs and had expected another step where there wasn't one.
Even from this distance, it was clear that her skin was covered in a pattern of crossed lines, all in various state of healing. A few lines were white scars, but most were scabbed or the tender pink of skin that had just lost it's protective covering. Paul caught a glimpse of the section of scabbing th
at had broken open in the night, allowing blood to slowly seep out and meet her shirt. The girl rose, replaced the bowl, and scurried back to her room quickly, glancing over her shoulder. Paul stood still, staring after her. He realized with a sinking feeling that she had been whipped, repeatedly. “May I go for medicine now, sir?” he asked quietly, defiance obvious in his voice.
Evan stepped away from the door, picked up his book once more, and lowered himself into his chair. “I need new reading material. Be so good as to get me some.” His head bent over his book once more, and he became as still as a statue. Paul clenched his fists, then turned and left through the only exit. He would never grow used to Evan's constant mood swings.
CHAPTER THREE
Although he was still frustrated, Paul realized that he couldn't afford to let it show. Midway to the infirmary, Paul ducked into a vacant supply closet and pulled his sharp knife from the holder strapped to his right ankle. Without hesitation or any emotion, he efficiently drew the knife at an angle down his left palm, pressing firmly. Once his cold, thick blood was seeping steadily, he grabbed a paper towel from a nearby shelf and clenched it in his hand to keep the blood from dripping as he continued to the infirmary. He paused, lifted the paper towel away from his wound, then peeled the wound apart to study the interior. Satisfied, he replaced his temporary bandage and continued on his way, unaffected.
At the infirmary, he tapped lightly on the open door. “Doc?” he called out.
A man in his early thirties walked down the hallway to Paul's right. “Hey, Paul,” he said. “Go on back.” He gestured over his shoulder with one thumb. “Nothing's changed, but that's never stopped you before.” He gave Paul an easy, half smile, as he leaned against the wall.
“I didn't come to visit.” Paul grinned sheepishly and held up his injured hand. “I had a little accident.”
The doctor moved across the room and removed the now bloody paper towel. “Wiggle your fingers like this for me.” Paul followed the doctor's instructions, and the man moved away toward a cupboard on one wall. “Well, you did a doozy on that one, but some stitches will fix it right up.” The man pulled sterile towels and a suture kit from the closet, then gestured at a utilitarian chair. “Sit down and we'll get this over with.” Paul sank into the chair and the doctor opened the suture kit. As he cleaned the wound, he asked, “So, what did you do, anyway?”
Paul knew the doctor was just being polite, making small talk, but he still felt his mind begin to race instinctively. He shrugged casually. “Showing off for a girl. You know how it is.”
“Would I happen to know this girl?” The doctor's voice was too innocent to be natural and Paul felt himself redden. Glancing up, the doctor laughed, then resumed stitching. “Well, don't worry about it. I'll make sure to tell her you weren't some wimp that needed numbing.”
Paul snorted. “Gee, thanks, doc,” he said sarcastically. “The only people who need numbing don't deserve it, anyway.” Paul watched placidly as the doctor finished the last suture, absently noting the small amount of pain he felt, more like an itch than anything. The doctor wrapped the used instruments and soiled paper towel in the now bloody cloth and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “Just let me get you some stuff and you can go back and see him.”
Paul hadn't forseen this and almost stuttered. “Oh, I don't have time today. Lots of orders to obey.”
“Don't I know it. No rest for the wicked, right?” The doctor turned from the cupboard with hands full of bandages and ointment. “You know the drill, don't get it wet, come back in 7-10 days, blah, blah, blah. Not that you will. You probably chew out your stitches, don't you?” Paul laughed. “Just remember, too many scars and girls will run in the other direction. No sense letting Galia know what a klutz you are, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Paul said, perturbed, and grabbed the proffered medical supplies. “Take it easy.”
“I will, if you will.” Paul shook his head at the doctor as he walked out of the infirmary and back to Evan's quarters, musing about how the doctor had known of his preference for the lovely supervisory maid. Paul's mind drifted to her long, fair hair, the graceful movements that came naturally to her, her light, tinkly laugh. His thoughts were interrupted when he nearly bumped into the dog, and he struggled to keep from falling to hands and knees. When he heard the crystalline laughter, he knew instantly who had witnessed his embarrassment. He carefully kept his gaze averted as he smoothed his tie, struggling to come up with some way to make it seem as though he had nearly fallen on purpose. With a burst of inspiration, he bent over and started patting the dog roughly on the back. “Kellin, buddy, where have you been?” The dog started jumping up and down in place, lifting only his front feet, crashing into Paul repeatedly.
“Hm. You almost crush him, and you get a happy dance?” Paul looked up at Galia who was frowning. Turning her attention to the one-eyed, blind dog she said, with mock severity, “I'm rather disappointed in you, Kellin. I thought I was your favorite.” The dog acted as though she had not even spoken.
“What can I say? He knows a good time when he sees one.” Realizing his mistake, Paul started rambling, “I mean, hears one...or smells one...”
Galia laughed good-naturedly. “I guess I should expect no less from him. After all, I'm sure you feed him far more table scraps that I would.”
“You know it.” Paul bent over and roughed up the dog once more. Kellin groaned and leaned against him, panting happily. “So, is he in your custody now?”
“He's free to come and go as he pleases.”
Paul looked up at her, though he kept one hand on the dog, who was happily covering Paul's dress pants with short, blond hairs. “Nobody keeps track of him?” Worry was evident in his voice. “What if someone hurts him?” Paul was feeling more and more protective, and he felt his muscles begin to knot up. Paul had been present when Kellin was found, wandering in a nowhere town, and had taken the dog under his wing. He would not allow anyone to threaten the dog.
Galia gave him a small smile. “Who would hurt him? It's not every day that Westmarch finds a dog who isn't afraid of vampires.”
“Surely more blind dogs have been brought in,” Paul stated. “How safe can Kellin be when he's so easily replaceable?”
“How has the gossip not reached you? Oh, probably protecting...her.” Galia carefully kept from saying anything about the Destine. She shook her head. “I guess I just assumed since Kellin was here that you were, too.”
“How long has he been here?” Paul scratched one of Kellin's ears.
“Several months.”
Steeling himself, looking pointedly at the dog, Paul said, “You think I'd stay away from you for several months?” He wasn't speaking to Kellin.
No one spoke for a moment, then Galia smoothly changed the subject. “Several blind dogs, and other animals, for that matter, have been brought to the castle, but Kellin is the only one who does not fear us.” Paul looked at Galia once more, and she shrugged. “No has been able to determine what makes Kellin different.”
Again, Paul felt his aggression rising. “Has someone been running tests on him?”
Galia placed a calming hand on his arm, and he immediately felt his aggression replaced with nerves. “Everything is well, Paul. No one would risk harming this dog.” She gestured toward Kellin, and Paul was both sad that she had broken their contact and grateful for the release it provided him. “He is something of an enigma.” She laughed lightly. “He's safer than the king. Some have started referring to him as the god of the vampires.” When Paul gave her a questioning look, Galia clarified, “No one would dare harm Kellin for fear of the repercussions.”
“Kellin couldn't hurt anyone if he tried. He'd just run into a wall,” Paul said, only partly joking.
Galia raised one eyebrow. “Ah, but Kellin wouldn't have to seek retribution himself. There are many who would avenge him.”
Paul shrugged and looked away. Looking down at the items he had clenched in one fist, he said, “I'v
e gotta get going.”
Noticing his stitches for the first time, Galia said, “What happened to your hand?”
Paul quickly shrugged it off and moved a few steps down the corridor, walking backwards. “Oh, it's nothing.” He gave her a quick wave and said, “Duty calls.”
“As it does for me.” Galia inclined her head then turned and continued down a side corridor. Paul didn't move until she had disappeared from his view, then sighed and patted his leg. “Well, come on, Kellin. I've got another girl who'll be ecstatic to see you.” At the mention of his name, the dog wagged his tail happily.
Є
The dog had followed Paul eagerly, but once they had entered the suite Kellin had latched onto Evan almost immediately. Paul knew Integrity would be happy to see the dog, but he wasn't about to beg the dog to follow him, especially in front of his superior. Resigning himself to the situation, he pressed on toward Integrity's room, noting absently that Evan had placed one hand on the dog's head, eyes still focused on the book he was reading.
“Hello,” Paul said cheerfully, as he entered Integrity's room. She was sunk into what he thought of as “her” corner. Glancing around, Paul set his supplies down on the end of the bed. “If you'll come sit up here, I'll fix up your arm.” Paul had little doubt that the girl would have moved to the bed even if he'd told her he intended to perform open heart surgery on her.
Already frustrated that Kellin had chosen Evan over him, Paul gritted his teeth and grunted when he lifted her sleeve and saw the wounds up close. Ripping open bandages and twisting the cap off of the ointment, he said, “I can't believe that creep did this to you. Stinking scumbag. I'd love to get my hands on Ben.” As Paul hesitantly stuck the bandage to her wound, the girl shrank away. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“It's not Ben's fault.” Though her voice was low, he could hear an element of steel lurking in it.
Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series Page 2