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Out of My Grave

Page 16

by Stephanie O'Hanlon


  “It can be a horrible feeling, not always, only when you are away from that person. It feels different when they are right in front of you.” I looked over to him. “I ache for you, Vincent. I ache like I have never ached before, even when I longed to be set free from my gilded cage and craved adventure, it was nothing like this.”

  He kept his eyes to the floor, his look of anger was gone, a look of pain in its place.

  I felt tears building in my eyes again as I began to stare off. “I have never been in love before. Have you?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  I stepped forward. “Not like this? Do you feel it too? Is it love, Vincent? Is that what it is? I have never felt love before, not romantic love for another person. Not all love is the same, each one is different. But, how does one know that is what it is when they have attained it?”

  “Annalee, I can’t—”

  “You can’t what? You cannot love me? You are not capable of it? That is not true, Vincent. You know it is not true.” I started to cry again, frustrated he wasn’t listening to me.

  He stood up and walked over to me. “You think I do not ache for you? You think I like this, these feelings? It is my nature to kill, Annalee! I have no idea why I have these new impulses, why I want to do these things!”

  He turned away to the fire and stared into it.

  I walked up to him and stared at him as a tears rolled down my face. “Do what? Do what!”

  He looked to me, the very first time I had seen a perfectly completely human expression on his face, a longing. Something I had on my face every moment I was with him.

  I walked up to him, resting my hands on his chest. He didn’t move, he stayed still…like a building. I ran my hand up to his neck and then to his face as I leaned up and let my lips touch his. At first he continued to stay still, but his eyes closed as he gave in, passionately grabbing hold of me and pulling me into him, his arms wrapping around me tightly. It was an amazing feeling, better than I had ever imagined it! I could feel the warmth of his skin seeping into my own, a sigh of relief washing over me.

  He pulled away from me, putting his hands on the sides of my face, his eyes looking into mine. A tear escaped down my cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb as he put his forehead against mine.

  “You win.”

  His words echoed in my head. I win?

  He walked over to the fireplace and stared into it. He wasn’t angry, which was a first, but I could definitely sense the defeat.

  I turned to the archway, where the boy, Jacques, walked in and bowed his head. “Master…”

  Vincent didn’t look up as his voice quickly gathered authority. “Yes?”

  The boy stepped forward. “It seems wild dogs are around the stable. Do you wish the others to…tend to the problem?”

  He looked over to me, seeing the stale tears on my face, my back against the wall across from fireplace. He seemed confused by my distance.

  Vincent looked towards him but not at him. “Yes. Make sure the horses are well protected. Go.”

  As the boy left the room, I turned to Vincent who was beside me, startling me. His footsteps were silent—his movements so quick I couldn’t help being jostled even after all the time I had spent with him. I was still not accustomed to it.

  “You have a way with words, Annalee. You have a way with them that seems to convince me quite easily.” He had acquired the defeated tone once again.

  I looked around, my eyes still stinging from crying. “Thank you?”

  He smirked a bit. “I did not mean it as a compliment. Nor did I mean it as an insult. It is just…a fact. A few weeks ago you convinced me to put aside my thoughts and humor you, be more gentlemanly. You do not know this but I made a sort of bargain with myself that I would comply, but up to a point. I would simply enjoy your company, make you happy in a sense. I am not blind, Annalee. I could see you were hurting from my distance, that you were not entirely happy.”

  I watched as his eyes didn’t move from me, how the emerald color was slightly darker than usual and his skin reflecting off of them somehow. My lips tingled remembering the sensation of his against them and my mind flashed with the idea of wrapping my arms around him and reliving the moment once again. But his voice kept me from straying away from what he was saying. It captivated me to listen, to think on what he was saying and even respond.

  “If you wanted to make me happy, why the arguments? Why constantly fighting with me?” I looked down to his hand—I wanted to grab it. I bit my lower lip.

  “Because I was making you unhappy.” He stepped forward to me, a strand of his hair escaping his ribbon. “I did not want to make you unhappy, but there was no way of convincing you to leave me and be happy. You are far too stubborn, you like getting your way, you fight for what you want and you do it so skillfully it baffles me.”

  He turned away from me, rubbing his forehead.

  “And yet you care so much for the feelings of others, you hate to see someone upset with your actions so you are constantly fighting with yourself over whether to make the other happy or make yourself. Much like what I go through when I am with you, I fight with myself, I want to kiss you and hold you but at the same time I want those beautiful feelings of hunger and no remorse, to feed on you.”

  Listening to him made me smile. He understood me. He asked so many questions, but he understood, perhaps that is why he understood. He saw everything. He saw everything about me. There was no hiding anything from him.

  He turned back to me. “So, you win. I am giving in, I am no longer fighting it. I will do as you want.”

  My eyes welled up with tears. “But why? Why suddenly?”

  I was happy, but the defeat in his voice made me ache with guilt. Was he happy?

  “Because, Annalee, one desire is much stronger than the other and you seem to fan the flames of the one and put out the other. You telling me you are in love with me makes me want to give you what you ask. It makes me want to do these things more and makes me forget about the fact I am dead, that I have been for a century. As you said, we are both confused and I would rather not be alone in the confusion.”

  I smiled as my head fell to the side. He was saying everything I wanted to hear everything I had dreamed he would say. But it was so much better! It was real—there was so much more to it, all things I had not even realized.

  His gaze went to the floor. “I constantly see the world change around me but there is one part of me—that hunger I thought would not change. I took comfort in it. That one thing would stay the same.”

  “So I upset your comfort…” Again I felt the guilt rise in me.

  “No, no. Not upset. You gave me a new one. I suppose it is foolish to think something will not or cannot change. That something else could not…upset the balance. Annalee, I do not want you to think you upset me, that you do anything to hurt me. You anger me often but that is much different from pain.”

  I scrunched my mouth to the side, causing him to smile. My eyes went back down to his hand, and again I wanted to touch him, to grab it. As I was staring, he reached out and grabbed my hand. My mouth parted slightly as I felt a shudder fly through me.

  He walked towards me, closer. “I see you stare at my hand often. I think this is the motion you wish me to do.”

  I thought I was speechless, but I somehow found my words. “Yes. Am I that obvious to you? Vincent, what do you see? How much do you see?”

  I looked into his eyes, staring, trying to see if they would unlock the secret for me.

  He took a minute, looking me over, his brow furrowing before he spoke. “I see everything. I see how much you care for your father, how important he is to you. I see how much you enjoy young Deirdre’s company, how she is your first true friend, besides Peter. I can see how much you hate Mister Pertrew, how he disgusts you, though he disgusts most, including myself. I see how you feel guilt and shame for how things ended between you and Mister MacMurphy. And I see how much you love me. I could see i
t before you said it.”

  I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my lips. At that moment it seemed perfect for Vincent to speak of his feelings though he did not. Instead, with my hand still in his, he walked over to the rope to summon his servants and pulled on it.

  “What are you doing? Sending me home?” I pouted.

  He laughed lightly. “Indeed I am.”

  I gripped harder on his hand. “But, I want to stay.”

  “I will see you tomorrow. It is late, Annalee. Your father is already not too happy with your choice in me. I do not want to anger him further.”

  The boy, Jacques, walked into the room. He kept his eyes to the floor as he listened to Vincent as he told him his orders, to accompany me back to my home, ensure I arrived safely. The entire time he had his hand in mine, his thumb gently stroking mine.

  “Please fetch Miss Harding’s cloak.” He pointed out of the room as the boy quickly scurried out. He turned to me. “Now, I will see you tomorrow.”

  Like a child, I scrunched my mouth to the side and glared at the floor. I wasn’t finished with him, I wanted to speak to him further about how things were, how they would change, how things had already changed.

  He smirked as he grabbed my hand and pulled it up to his lips, kissing the back of it. He did it with much more ease than previous times, though I could feel a restraint in it.

  He was still holding something back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Courtship?

  The next morning I awoke to the sun shining into my room, seemingly brighter than most days. I couldn’t help smiling, though I was somewhat cautious about my happiness, the possibility of Vincent changing his mind being a slight worry to me.

  I didn’t know how long I needed to wait for Vincent to call upon me, what we would do that day, after all it was Saturday, the weekend was open for us to do anything we wished. Vincent wouldn’t have to worry about making excuses for being in town—he didn’t conduct business on weekends.

  I made my way to the sitting room where I sat in the sunlight, my light pink gown looking almost white from the light. The neckline was ruched from a drawstring, the bodice two parts. One was a false stomacher that had ties down the center, attached to the bodice of the gown, which was actually sleeveless. The other piece was on top of it, a little jacket that came together with three hooks and eyes. It as an open robe, but the petticoat was the same color and fabric as the rest of the gown. The sleeves were tight nearly to my wrists, with no lace, no gauze, nothing much else to it.

  I could feel the heat being absorbed by my dark hair, the black almost burning my shoulder, though I liked the feeling. Higgins lay in the sun outside the window, his blond fur glimmering from the sunlight. I couldn’t wait to either go outside to him, or him come inside, so I could smell the summer on his coat. I loved that smell.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the doorway fill with Bess and a figure beside her, her voice piping up.

  “Annalee, it seems you have a visitor.”

  I looked up to see Vincent standing beside her, his tall, muscular, light blue clad figure towering over Bess’ petite one. His sight comforted my eyes, but startled me.

  “Vincent…wh…wh…why, why are you here? I mean, what are you doing here?” I stammered as I stood up and tripped forward.

  He stepped towards me, looking to my feet, smiling. “I thought it appropriate for me to come by and introduce myself to the good doctor.”

  Bess stared at Vincent, just as enthralled by him as I was. She had only seen him from afar, never getting a chance to speak with him or even really acknowledge him. She looked over his shoulder and smiled at me. “Well, I will fetch your father.”

  She quickly escaped out of the room as Vincent smiled.

  “She seems to approve of me.” He looked over his shoulder as a strand of his hair escaped to the side of his face. Every time it had previously, I wanted to stroke it out of his face, though I knew to do so would not be a good idea.

  I pushed the thought aside as I shook my head. “So, why are you here? Not that I am not happy you are.”

  “I told you, to introduce myself to your father. Inform him of my intentions.”

  “Oh.” I quieted as he came close to me looking me over. “Um, what exactly are your intentions?” My eyes quickly went to his, focusing on him.

  “Well, it is quite obvious I will not be killing you, so I thought it be more appropriate to court you. I think I would be a more appropriate suitor, after all I am well off, I would give you a perfect social standing and a comfortable life.”

  He was mocking the usual human traditions, though it didn’t anger me, it made me smile.

  He put his hand out, softly caressing my cheek as he moved forward to me. He glanced over my gown, coming back up to my eyes. “I like it when you wear pink.”

  I looked down. “Pink?” After all the times I had tried to please him by wearing darker colors, red especially, pink was the color he was more fond of.

  “Yes. Is that so strange?” He half smiled.

  “I just thought you would have preferred red…or black.” I felt stupid for thinking of it, though it was strange to me he preferred the light, feminine color.

  “Just because I am a creature of death you think I prefer things to do with that subject? Annalee, most of the gowns I have purchased for you are that color. I believe one is green also. None of them have been a dark color.”

  I really thought about it and he was right. He had purchased me four gowns, one was green, two were pink and another was white patterned with pink flowers. I had told him not to purchase me things, though he enjoyed our little arguments over why I didn’t want them. It was always useless to argue about it.

  He turned to the doorway, his eyes moving about the ceiling. “Your father is on his way from his study. No more speaking of the undead and such things.”

  He moved beside me, putting his hand on the small of my back, just as my father’s footsteps sounded down the hall and he rounded the corner into the sitting room.

  His mustache wiggled slightly as he put his hand on his hip, walking forward.

  Vincent smiled politely at him. “Doctor Harding. I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting you in person. I apologize for that. I am Vincent Moor.”

  He bowed, though his hand was still at the small of my back. I shuffled towards him more getting a lovely waft of his cologne.

  “Yes, I am aware. Annalee speaks of you and your time together frequently,” he said as he examined Vincent cautiously.

  “She also speaks of your accomplishments with the university and your practice. She is very proud of you.” Vincent kept his eyes on my father, smiling politely. The perfect gentleman, as always.

  My father’s eyes went to me, his top lip curling under his mustache as he smiled, nodding his head. “Well, thank you. I suppose you were planning on taking Annalee off for the day, the purpose of your visit as usual.”

  I smiled. “Well, you should get back to work, Father—”

  I was feeling awkward. I sensed my father trying to protect me.

  Vincent’s hand gripped onto my waist, pulling me gently and subtly closer to him. “I am actually here to ask for your permission to court your daughter. In the month that has passed I have indeed taken her away quite a bit, though my intentions before were not as they are now. I only thought it appropriate for me to introduce myself and ask for your permission in taking my relationship with Annalee to the next level.”

  I was stunned with Vincent’s articulation, the way he summed up everything that had taken place in the past month, not lying once to comfort my father, but not revealing his true nature and the dark details of that time.

  My father stood stunned also, his eyes searching around, trying to find a way to answer him. “Well, that is entirely up to Annalee. She knows as long as she is safe, I condone anything or anyone she gets involved with.”

  They both turned to me, as Bess kept her eyes off to the side.
>
  “So, Annalee,” my father started, “if you wish to enter a courtship with this gentleman, you do indeed have my blessing.”

  In a way, I thought he was expecting me to throw a fit and ask Vincent to leave, to tell him I never wanted to see him again. But, I looked from my father to Vincent.

  “Well I…I do…want to enter the courtship…yes.”

  My father seemed unhappy, perhaps even upset.

  “Well, then you have my permission. Now, if you excuse me, I need to get back to work. Mister Moor, it was a pleasure to meet you. Annalee.”

  He looked Vincent over once more as if not sure to leave me with him. He left the room, Bess quickly smiling and bowing her head as she scrambled behind him.

  Vincent turned to me smiling. “Well, I think that went well.”

  “Are you mad? It is a good thing you are immortal. I am quite sure my father wants to kill you.” I turned away from him, my hand on my forehead until I got to the empty space on the floor and sat down on it.

  His brow furrowed. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”

  I grabbed hold on the bodice on my dress and stretched my neck out. “One of those habits of mine. It is a way of calming me down.”

  He smiled. “Strange way of doing so.” He suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Seems your father does not think much of me. Your maid is taking quite a stand as well, in my favor. I knew she liked me.”

  I looked up to him. “How do you know that? You read minds?”

  A flight of panic flew through me. There were many thoughts I had around him I didn’t want him knowing of.

  “No, no.” He began to laugh. “They may be whispering but I can hear them clear as a large bell. Almost as if they are shouting.”

  I sighed in relief. Thank God.

  “What are they saying?”

  He walked over to the table where a small crystal sculpture sat with flowers in it. He kept his eyes on it firmly, barely moving with his countenance intent on listening. After a few moments he spoke up, still staring at the flowers and crystal. “Your father is concerned that because I was seen with Yvette at the playhouse and the murders stopped when we met that I could possibly be the culprit, or have links to him. That bad luck, so to speak, would bring you into the hands of someone dangerous—if I were not the dangerous one that is.” He finally looked to me.

 

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