Out of My Grave

by Stephanie O'Hanlon

My mouth dropped open from shock, my face flushing violently. His words echoed in my head as I looked around the foyer. “Oh…my…”

  Chapter Eleven

  Allegro

  When I walked through the door, my skin was still heated from the words that had left Vincent’s lips. Hearing him say ‘make love’ was like the sin itself, probably just as sweet.

  There was no one waiting for me as I thought there would be and it concerned me. Bess always helped me get ready for bed and tonight I would certainly need the help, my gown was more complicated than usual.

  I scanned the empty foyer as I made my way over to the sitting room, peering in through the door. My father sat reading a book by candlelight, Higgins beside him as always.

  “Why are you still awake?” I walked into the small room and pulled my cloak off of my shoulders as he put down the book.

  “Hello, Poppet, how was dinner?” He took off his glasses and put them on top of the book.

  I pouted slightly. “It was interesting.”

  I felt my skin flush once again, Vincent’s voice still in my skin making me shudder.

  He nodded. “This young man…Mister Moor. He was as expected?”

  “As expected?” My eyebrows rose as he stood up.

  He walked towards me. “Yes, a gentleman.”

  I laughed. “Well, of course. What’s going on?”

  In my mind Vincent wasn’t the normal gentleman, but he was still a gentleman. He was more polite and more aware of himself then most of the men I knew.

  “Nothing. I am just worried that is all. They want to put a curfew into effect and now all young ladies will need to have an escort.”

  “Well, I’m sure Vincent would be happy to escort me places. In fact, we are going to the symphony tomorrow night.”

  I turned from him and made my way out of the room.

  “Do you know where Bess is off to?” I stopped in the foyer and looked around.

  He came out of the room behind me. “She is fixing me something to eat, I still have some work I need to do before I retire. But, Annalee, do you trust this Vincent? Is this not the same American who was with the missing girl?”

  I turned to him. “This is really getting silly. Vincent was a perfect gentleman. Wherever I go I tell people and people see me while I am there. I assure you I am safe from the horrors of the night.”

  I wanted to laugh because I was spending time with one of those horrors of the night. It may be foolish but I really didn’t believe Vincent would harm me. I still wanted to believe I was special in some way.

  That was thankfully the end of the conversation.

  * * * *

  We sat in the same private box Vincent had sat in with the missing woman on the night Dale took me to the play. We seemed isolated from everyone, all of them bustling around talking and laughing while we sat in our quiet box on the third balcony level, observing the stage at a comfortable angle.

  My mouth scrunched to the side as I took in the theatre once again, until my eyes fell on him staring at me. My eyes went wide as I began to look around, look down at my light pink-lavender gown with a blue sash to see if there was a spot on it or a wrinkle. “What?”

  He smiled. “No, I was wondering quite the same. I was going to ask you if there was something wrong.”

  I shook my head, giving him a small smile. “No, everything is wonderful.”

  “The show has not even started yet. I don’t see any reason for such excitement.” He pointed down towards where the orchestra would be seated very shortly.

  “As I said, I am quite happy just spending time with you. It’s a strange, human quality I am cursed with.” I smiled coyly as I folded my hands in my lap.

  He smiled back, seemingly enjoying my quip. “Yes, tell me more about these human qualities.”

  I shook my head. “No, no, I am the one who gets to ask questions.”

  “All right, go on.” He nodded, leaning on the arm of his chair towards me.

  I was taken aback he was open to answering my questions, running through my head to find something interesting to talk about. My eyes scanned over the area, trying to find something that would spark a good conversation. I came to his hand and stopped.

  “All right, I did a little light reading and I have come to understand that people like you, in your situation, are not supposed to stand sunlight.”

  “That is a good question. I suppose you read about crosses, certain oils, garlic, holy water, these things also killing…people of my situation?”

  Just as I did, he went around the word vampire, probably to humor me.

  I nodded. “I did.”

  He kept his eyes on me. “I happen to own several antique rosaries and burn those oils you speak of in my home. I also bless myself like any other when I walk into a cathedral and I quite enjoy walking about in the sunlight, as you well know.”

  “I know it is silly, but that is all I have to go on. Do you really want a silly human girl bombarding you with questions?”

  I wanted to bombard him—there was so much I wanted to know, but I stopped myself, knowing it was rude.

  He turned and sat back in his chair. “I wouldn’t mind it. I find the myths of my kind quite interesting. I don’t even know how these scholars came upon them.” He folded his hands in front of him, looking out over the balcony.

  I licked my lips as I thought of another question. “And coffins are obviously not true—”

  “Why do you say that?” He looked at me, confused.

  “Well…um, Peter Wilks, the son of Mister Wilks who owns the furniture shop in town…he told me of some of your purchases the other day. He is a friend of mine.”

  “Ah, I see I am the talk of the town,” he said. “No, coffins are not true. I also enjoy staring at myself in a looking-glass, if you are wondering. However, the only place I do not see myself truly reflected is in a mortal’s eyes. The only fact that seems to hold any water is fire. Fire is our only weakness. Well, that and how we feed.” He threw the word ‘feed’ around nonchalantly.

  I shifted in my seat. “Yes, on virgin girls.”

  He began to laugh.

  I was caught up in how beautiful it was, but I stopped and realized he may have been laughing at me. “What is so funny?”

  He stopped, looking at me, still smiling. “We do not only feed on virgins. That is usually personal preference, they taste better. You are aware a few whores have gone missing in town, they are certainly not virgins and yet I fed upon them. There are also a few men I have fed upon, and destitute people.”

  “Why them? Why the street-walkers and the unfortunate?”

  He turned to me. “As I said, they taste better. Everyone has a different taste to their blood. Virgins have a pure taste…like champagne, think of the finest champagne. A whore is much like red wine, very strong. The homeless would be like ale, or gin perhaps. Evil-doers tend to have the best taste, along with virgins. And no one cares for the destitute or whores.”

  He turned to look as the orchestra began to take their seats, warming up their instruments.

  “Oh…” My eyes went to his hand again, remembering the heat that came off of it. “Sometimes your skin is cold.”

  “Depends on where I am. My environment affects my temperature. If I am in a warm room or have just fed, my blood is warmed, so my skin is as well. If I am outside or haven’t fed in quite a while it usually lowers.”

  “Oh.” I looked down to the orchestra as his voice smoothed over my ears.

  “Now, it is my turn to ask you the questions.”

  I turned to see him resting on his elbow yet again, leaning into me.

  “All right,” I smiled. I was curious of what questions his exceptional mind would come up with.

  “What kind of fantasies do you have about me?” His face was very serious though I could see in his eyes he was amused with his question and what answer he would get.

  “I’m sorry?” I blushed.

  “Are they of a sexual manner,
more romantic, more questionable?”

  “I am still…unsure of what you mean—”

  Words were difficult to construct as I felt my face flush a second time.

  “Well, you were often pre-occupied while I was watching you in your home. You had something on your mind. You forgot your shawl, the way you would just stare and suddenly blush like you are now, it seems you were thinking about something or someone. I assume it was me. So I want to know if it was sexual, romantic, or more questionable.”

  I thought about it, my mouth opening to speak but no words coming out. When I could force the words past my lips, I stuttered, “Well, you s…s…see, they are…um…I would say…a little bit of all three?” I kept my eyes to my hands and felt my skin burning.

  He was going to say something else but stopped as we heard the clapping of the crowd.

  During the performance I watched in awe, the music absolutely beautiful, speeding up delicately like a little child and slowing down almost in a Gothic sense before it came back quickly once again.

  At several points, I could feel eyes staring into me and turned to see Vincent watching me, not paying attention to the music. I smiled reassuringly and turn back to watch the orchestra. He did not seem to care I knew he was watching.

  We all stood and applauded once it ended. Even Vincent stood, this time he didn’t have a need to duck out before everyone else.

  I smiled as everyone began to gather their things, Vincent grabbing my shawl and wrapping it around me.

  “Thank you.” I stopped as I saw him staring off across from us. “What is it?” I tried to look in the same direction.

  “It seems you have an admirer.”

  I followed his gaze, seeing Sean and a young lady walking out of their box—the box I was in with Dale—before disappearing through the velvet curtain.

  “He was staring at you quite a bit. Well, glaring I should say. He is not fond of me.” He smiled, as he looked me over, seemingly amused by this.

  I rolled my eyes. “Sean lives in his own little fantasy world. He is determined to own me and do with me as he does with most other women. I will have nothing of it.”

  “Ah, but that enhances the chase.”

  He put out his hand to guide me yet again.

  We made our way to Vincent’s carriage, since we were planning on going to his manor for a late supper…a very late supper.

  The carriage ride was quiet until his gaze went from the window over to me.

  “So, Mister Pertrew is attracted to you?”

  It seemed like a random thought, or perhaps it was something on his mind for quite some time.

  “I don’t think he is. I think it is the sport of it,” I said, frowning. I hated talking about Sean, it made me think he was somehow winning his little game and that was his goal.

  “He thinks about bedding you?” His eyes seemed hurt in some way, maybe angered.

  I nodded slowly as I frowned. “Yes. He has made that clear several times.”

  He nodded and turned to the window, his eyebrows scrunching together as he thought. He turned back to me, “And you do not want to fulfill his fantasy?”

  “No,” I scoffed, “of course not. Sean is a slimy little toad. It disgusts me when he even looks at me.”

  The corners of his mouth curved down, still thinking. “You like it when I look at you.”

  I nodded lightly. “I do.”

  He nodded and turned back to the window, staring out in silence until we reached his manor, where supper was laid out for me.

  There was no conversation while I ate, but this time he didn’t glare at me menacingly, it was more of an intrigued stare. After I had finished and his servant had taken away the plate, I glanced around and back to him, smiling.

  “Desert was delicious,” I said, folding my hands in my lap.

  He stood up and walked over to the fire, staring into it. He was still shrouded in silence.

  “What are you thinking about?” I had a firm grip on the armrest on the chair, keeping my body turned to him.

  “You care what I think about?” He kept his body to the fire.

  “Yes. I would not have asked the question if I did not want to know.”

  “Perhaps you do not want to know the answer,” his voice came out coldly.

  I frowned. “But, I do.”

  He paused for a moment. “I planned to kill you tonight—after your meal.” His voice was flat, but still deep and somehow irresistible.

  I sighed. “Oh.”

  I wasn’t frightened. I knew it was something he would often think about, perhaps he thought about it as much as I thought about him. I somehow knew he would never act on his desire to kill me though.

  He turned to me. “But again, I cannot make myself do it. When you left last evening, I was quite angry with myself. I feel very weak when I am around you.” He shouted as if it was my fault.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  He suddenly appeared at my side, grabbing hold of my shoulders and pulling me up from the chair. “Why do you apologize?” He wasn’t rough, but he was forceful. It didn’t frighten me the way it should have, not the way he wanted it to.

  I began to stutter again. “I don’t know…I just, I cannot, I just…”

  His eyes went to the floor, his hands still on my shoulders, only the material of my gown separating our skin, though I knew he could probably feel so much more.

  He turned away from me walking up to the fire once again. “It is worse now. I do not even have the physical need to feed on you anymore. I do not understand it!”

  He let his arm rest on the ledge of the fireplace as he stared into it, his other hand on his hip.

  I began to walk over to him but stopped, turning to the small table that used to have the dark lilies on it. It was barren now, not even the candlestick was there.

  I really thought about it…perhaps it was too hard for him. I was thinking I could be something to him, be something special. I kept thinking of it as a possibility for us to be together the human way but…he is far from human. When would that really sink in?

  “Where are you from?” I tilted my head to the side, looking out the window.

  He kept his eyes to the fire. “America. Massachusetts.”

  I nodded. “And the one that made you as you are? He was from the same?”

  He glanced up to me. “No.”

  “He left you?” I turned to him, looking over to him.

  “He was burned at the stake for being a witch in sixteen ninety two. I was unadjusted to my lifestyle.” He turned and walked back over to the table and stood by his chair, staring off. “Yes. He left me.”

  I walked up to him, right in front of him so he would look me in the eye. “So you have been alone for all this time?”

  He shook his head. “It is no never mind to me.”

  I shook my head. “No. That is a lie.”

  He looked down to me. “How would you know?”

  “Because I know what it feels like to be alone. I know what it is like to be surrounded by people who say they care when they truly do not. Is that why you have a hard time believing I care, because most others do not? Because, most look at you and only see what is on the outside, not caring to venture on what is on the inside?”

  He stood for a moment as if questioning himself before he turned to me, looking me over.

  I stood motionless as he slowly put out his hand, unsure for a moment before he softly touched my shoulder. He gently let his hand slide up along my shoulder to my neck where he cupped the side of it. I could feel the heat from his palm sinking into my skin as I closed my eyes, finally having a small taste of what it felt like to have his skin on my own.

  He let his eyes fall to the floor as he sighed and walked away from me, pulling on the rope to summon his servants.

  * * * *

  That night plagued my mind as I slept, I found myself having terrible nightmares.

  Instead of Vincent calling for me as he had done be
fore, I was searching for him at the symphony. He was always hiding in the shadows watching me, I knew this and yet I still searched for him.

  When I found him, it was the same. I was so happy to have found him, so happy to be caged in his arms, to feel the warmth of him seeping through my skin. I was always naked in my dreams, always vulnerable. It was similar to the feeling I had around him while I was awake…I was vulnerable, but not in the frightening sense.

  He always entranced me, from that moment I saw him in the shadows by Sean’s home. I had not even seen his face, to think that was only a week ago! Is it possible to feel such strong feelings in such a small amount of time? Perhaps it’s something as naive as love at first sight?

  I was just a silly girl, I can admit it. I didn’t know the ways of the world. I only knew my own. He had an aura of the world, Vincent knew things I could not even begin to comprehend, and it was all in his eyes. The stories he told me with those green embers. I tried not to let myself think it was love…a very dangerous thought.

  There was so much mystery to him, to what he was. I wasn’t even aware of how everything worked, though I found myself dreaming of him slowly kissing my neck until he stopped. He seemed to go to stone in my arms, still with a firm hold on me. That’s when the sinking feeling began, I felt like I was losing my balance, like I was falling. Then I felt my side, my shoulder and down my body feeling warm, though my actual body had grown cold. I looked down to see blood pouring from an open wound, Vincent stood there staring, not looking anywhere but my neck.

  Each dream ended the same way. Vincent always leaned in and bit me. Though I didn’t know what the actual sensation felt like, I was only aware from stories that is what vampires do. They bite you on the neck. They suck your blood. You die.

  But there were no bite marks on my neck. I had all my blood. I wasn’t dead.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gone and Away

  I had not heard from Vincent for three days.

  The first day I wasn’t too shaken about it, though I will admit my thoughts kept coming back to him wondering if he was going to call upon me, if he would come by and surprise me or have one of his servants deliver a letter.