I really thought about what he said. Had Vincent been taking me away from my father? Was it not my father who wanted me to get married and be well taken care of? That was his reasoning when Dale had proposed forever ago. Once I really thought about it, in marrying Dale I would not be that well taken care of. I would still need my father to be there for me, it would only be a piece of paper and I would have a different last name. With Vincent, he would actually take care of me. There would be no need to go to him any longer.
I felt my eyes closing, feeling heavy as I sighed.
“I think you should get more rest.” He stroked my cheek very gently with his hand.
“You are going to stay here?”
He nodded, smiling. “Yes. I am not going anywhere. I told you I will not be letting you out of sight.”
“What if they—”
He shook his head. “I think I can handle the art of concealment and stealth, after all it is in my nature.”
I nodded and he helped me lay back in bed, sitting beside me and holding me tightly as I fell off to sleep. I didn’t really sleep for the first little while. I was continuing my thought process from before, the solution to our problem. I knew no one was going to let me see Vincent anymore. My father was not going to sit by silently. I knew there was only one option for me and I had to admit, it scared me.
* * * *
I awoke and Vincent was still there. He convinced me to get dressed when Bess came up to see if I would come down for supper and to eat. He assured me he would stay in my bedchamber, he wasn’t going to leave.
I went down with Bess, sitting at the table as my father walked into the dining room, sitting at the opposite end. The table seemed smaller to me though it was a grand table. It stretched across the entire length of the room.
I was happy my father sat at the far end. I didn’t want him to come too close to me for fear I would lose my temper. It sounds completely horrid to think that, but my anger was beyond the normal capacity for sanity.
He looked up to me as I stared angrily at the table. I tried to think of Vincent sitting in my room awaiting my return.
“How are you feeling, Poppet?” His voice rose over the length of the table.
I kept my eyes on the table, shaking my head. “I have certainly been better.”
“I will need to take a look at that bruise later. Will you tell me how long Sean Pertrew has been…threatening you?” He stumbled on the word ‘threaten’, which I didn’t understand. I refused to think it was anything else that was still all it was. He had threatened me. He didn’t have much of a chance to attack me. Vincent saved me once again, my champion as always. It was nothing but an attempt in my eyes now that I had time to think about it.
“A while…a long while.” I smeared my lips together, looking to my fork and picking it up, examining the light bouncing off of it.
He let his arm rest on the table. “And you were not going to inform me?”
“What would you have done?” I asked.
“Does that really matter? You should have told me. You nearly being raped is not something I take lightly.”
I felt my lip shake. “Well, Vincent tried to put a stop to it.”
“Do not get me started on him,” he said, turning in his seat.
“Why? Because he loves me? Wants to marry me? Wants to be with me, protect me, and keep me safe?”
“I do not want to argue, Annalee.”
“Fine,” I said, standing. “We won’t.”
I left the dining room, barreling my way up the stairs and back to my bedchamber where Vincent waited.
That is how our evenings were spent. There would be a heated argument between myself and my father, yelling, cursing, crying, until I decided I had enough and would run up and into Vincent’s arms. He was the only one who could comfort me.
Thursday night I sat at the table, listening to my father tell Bess about his day as she placed his plate down in front of him. He grabbed his fork as Bess placed my plate in front of me and then walked back into the kitchen.
His voice seeped out. He was already angered. “Your bruise has healed nicely. Completely gone.”
I sat in silence.
“So Annalee, are we going to be silent again tonight?”
I stared hard at him. I never thought I would be so angered with my father. He wasn’t even my father anymore. To me he was an imposter. His entire personality seemed to have shifted. He was bitter, very angry, especially during the week, much like me, I suppose.
“Silence seems to be something I much enjoy these days.” My eyes went to my plate. I wasn’t going to be eating tonight.
“I am surprised I have not heard you pitching a fit over not seeing Mister Moor this week.”
I wanted to smile. There had not been one moment where I was not with him. Except for my meals that is, and even then he was in my bedchamber not all that far away from me.
“You cannot keep me from him. You have no reason to.” I felt my anger building. I had made my decision.
“He had assured me on several occasions that you would be safe. I entrusted him with you and he lets some—”
I stood from my seat, shouting, “He saved me. If he was a moment later, then yes, perhaps then you would have some reason to despise him, but he was there and he defended me when I could not! He was the only one who saw what Sean was doing and tried to put a stop to it! Perhaps you should think more clearly on what you should do about Mister Sean Pertrew or Mister Dale MacMurphy, not the man that protects your daughter from them!”
I backed away from the table angrily, knocking over my chair as I ran towards the staircase and made my way up to my bedchamber. I quickly ran through the door, closed it and locked it behind me, turning to see Vincent already standing beside my vanity awaiting me.
“More arguing,” he said as he fiddled with the brush on the vanity top.
I walked up to him and put my hands on the sides of his face, stifling tears. “Remember before how you agreed that if I found it necessary to make me like you, you would do so?”
“No, Annalee, please do not ask me!” He pulled away from me, walking over to my bed.
“You said—”
“Please! Do not ask me! I have not fed in nearly five days, Annalee! This isn’t the way to do it! I could kill you!” He began to move away from me, towards the corner of the room by the window.
“You said you would! You said you would as long as I felt it was the only answer and it is the only answer!” I ran up to him, trying to grab at his hands, which he just threw away.
“You cannot… I just…the temptation is there but if I even for one second linger on it, you could lie on the floor and you will not get back up as I did!” He crossed his arms as his hair fell into his face, being out of the ribbon and falling in slight waves to his shoulders.
I walked over to him stroking it out of his face. “You won’t! You even said you could not! I still believe you cannot hurt me like that!”
I suddenly heard knocking on the door, my father’s voice as I turned towards it.
“Annalee? Is someone in there with you?”
I turned to him. “Please, quickly! You need to do it now, they will come in here and they will take you away from me!” I began to cry harder, tears welling up quickly and pouring down my face as I stomped my foot.
“I will not let them!” He grabbed hold of my shoulders, pulling me up and towards him.
“Then do it! Just do it! You said! You gave me your word! Do not let them take you away from me!” I clasped my hands on the sides of his face.
My father’s voice still boomed from the hallway. “Annalee! Open the door, or God help me, I will break it down!”
Vincent looked into my eyes. “I can’t! I have not fed—”
“I do not care! I know you will not. You can do it! It is the only way!” I didn’t look back at the door as I heard the banging continue, my father and Bess screaming for me to open it.
Vincent’s eyes
met with mine before he nodded.
I felt a wash of relief. Again, I had won! I began to sob as he leaned in and kissed me. It was much more passionate than anything I had ever experienced with him before.
Everything was shut out—all I was aware of was Vincent. The shouting from behind the door, my thoughts from earlier in the day, even the past month and a half was nothing but a blur as Vincent began to kiss down my neck. I was aware of the risks, that he hadn’t been able to escape on business and fulfill himself. I knew I was risking my life and my love for him. But I didn’t care.
His lips hovered over one area on my throat. Tears rolled down my cheeks, as I looked up to the ceiling feeling Vincent linger over the area before his fangs pierced through my skin suddenly. I let out a throaty gasp, the blood flowing out instantly. He was taking large gulps, the blood flowing out of me. My eyes closed as my heart slowed, my breathing slowing as well, almost in a comfortable manner.
I could feel the world blurring in front of my eyes, a loud throbbing in my ears. I could hear him under me grunting and groaning, quickly gulping. I could only imagine the satisfaction he had on some level, fulfilling the thirst he had for so long.
He pulled away from me suddenly and my body dropped to the floor, a cold smack on my back and legs. I was able to force my eyes open long enough to see Vincent hovering over me. His beautiful face was the last thing I saw as I slipped into a dark place. Perhaps the last place I would ever be.
Chapter Eighteen
Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it ~Shakespeare’s Macbeth.
I was in a dark place.
I was running through the field to the little copse of forest that Vincent had showed me. That’s where we could go to get away from everyone, to be alone, away from the noise.
But I couldn’t find the copse. I couldn’t find that little pocket, that small circular area. I was running in the dark, that same black shadowy haze I had in that dream when Vincent was nothing more than the newcomer in our town.
I didn’t feel any of the cold like I should have, even though I was in my nightgown. My hair didn’t wave along in the wind, though I could feel it brush passed me. I knew it was cold and I knew I should be feeling something.
I ran everywhere around the field, running as fast as I could. I was going to the copse to find Vincent. I needed to find Vincent.
It didn’t occur to me to call out. I continued to rip the field apart searching for that small piece of forest that would lie to my right, that small piece of dense wood that would have Vincent waiting for me. I knew he was there.
I continued to look, but suddenly my foot caught in a hole, sending me falling to the ground harshly. When I opened my eyes I was on the floor in my home, I was in the sitting room on the floor face down. There was no one around and the whole house was dark, abandoned. It looked as if no one lived in it for years.
I slowly got up, walking out of the room and making my way into the foyer, where I heard a commotion coming from the upper level. I quickly ran as fast as I could up the stairs to see my father and Bess at the door to my room pounding their fists against it, the door shaking in the frame, Higgins barking.
I turned to look at them, but suddenly found myself in my bedchamber, where I saw myself lying on the floor, blood pouring out from the wound on the left side of my neck and down my green gown. Vincent stood over me, biting into his wrist as he placed it over my mouth. He was crying. He had tears running down from his beautiful emerald embers and blood running down his chin and all over his blouse and violet brocade waistcoat.
I saw the blood pour from his wrist into my mouth, which was open. I watched, as my body lay lifeless on the floor still not moving as the blood grew in my mouth and started to overflow. I could feel it in my mouth, though my body was half way across the room. I could taste it. I could taste Vincent!
But I wasn’t swallowing. Vincent began to panic, rubbing at my throat, feeling my chest, searching for some sign I had enough of a pulse to continue, enough to ensure I was going to wake up from my deep sleep of death into the undead.
I turned my head as the door burst open, my father and Bess running in and as I looked back, Vincent was gone. He had left me. He was nowhere in the room. He promised not to leave me. I watched as my father and Bess tried to revive me. Blood everywhere, soaking my gown, soaking the floor.
I suddenly opened my eyes to complete darkness. I wasn’t even sure I had indeed opened them. I began to feel around, a fabric around me, a soft satiny fabric. I noticed in my right hand was a crucifix—I could feel the shape in the darkness of Christ’s mangled body, smooth and cold.
My eyes widened. I was in a coffin.
I was locked, buried alive, perhaps even in our family’s crypt, the mausoleum. I was many feet behind stone with two coffins encasing me, one of wood and one of stone.
I stopped, calming myself. I wasn’t going to let myself panic.
I began to claw my way around pushing and prying at the satin, but couldn’t find any tears or holes, so I began to cry, tears welling up in my eyes, the stinging coming from behind them. I softly sobbed as I hit the top of the coffin weakly, my lack of strength making me panic more until I began hysterically hitting it with all my strength until I heard a crack.
I stopped as a small streak of light and fresh air hit me, the light stinging my eyes. I started to claw harder, pushing at the wood and ripping the satin clear off of the frame. I clawed my way out of the coffin, pulling myself out of it and over the side, falling to cold, hard ground.
My eyes stung as I tried to look around. Everything was bright. The stone, the flowers, even the shadows had their own illumination. My eyes went down to my bare feet scraped and bloodied from kicking through the coffin, my hands just the same, but my skin was pale and seemed to shine.
I looked over my hands for a while until my focus was drawn down to my dress, which was dirtied as well, a chemise à la reine torn from the ragged edges of the coffin, just as my skin. The muslin gown had sleeves that went to my wrists, the neckline gathered with a drawstring, the soft fullness of it pulled into my waist with a blue sash.
I was bloody and I was beaten, but I was not frightened. I was certainly disoriented.
A strong smell hit me, knocking me back. I didn’t know what it was, but it was filling my nostrils, nothing else finding its way through.
Suddenly, I saw something flash out of the corner of my eye. I whipped around to try and see what it was, but just as quickly as I twisted around to find it, I saw something else that caught my attention. I felt overwhelmed by everything around me in the small space. It was as if the crypt itself was alive, moving on its own, filled with life.
I jumped up quickly, my hair waving around me, a garland of roses shaped like a crown on my head digging into my skin from the movement. I made my way to the doorway, pushing the large heavy door as I walked out.
It never dawned on me the door should have been locked. Was that not what people did? They locked the doors to make sure grave robbers couldn’t get at the freshly laid to rest. The realization hadn’t dawned on me that it was I who was freshly laid to rest.
The cold night air blasted my face, crept through my body, all the sensations of being out in the open in a graveyard hitting me all at once, the smell of death, the cold monuments, and the wildlife that seemed to lurk there. My eyes squinted, darting around, feeling overwhelmed again, feeling as if I couldn’t hold my own. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked around, feeling like a lost child in an unknown city. I felt as if I was in an unknown world. I was unsure of what this graveyard had to do with me, where it really was, why I was there. What was I doing? Was this a dream? I looked down at my torn fingernails and realized that this was very real.
I began to walk but the wind blew, sending several new scents my way. The impact of those fresh smells on my hypersensitive senses threw my body back, the scent of dead flowers and the torn earth as well as that now so familiar smell of death overwh
elmed me. I fell against the monument of an angel with her arms out, her hands cupped as she prayed to the Lord. I grasped hold, wrapping my arms around her and holding her close. The cold from the stone seeped in through me, grated against my sensitive skin.
I reached up to brush away a tear from my cheek, my skin, smooth and cold, as marble-like as the monument. My fingers traced down to my lips, which were much the same, very smooth, very soft, but cold. I then felt my way to my teeth, to my canines, which were now dainty pointed fangs.
I smiled letting my head rest against the stone angel once more, tears continuing to run down my face, no doubt mixed with dirt and blood I could feel inching its way down from my forehead. I knew that it was right…I wanted those fangs, though I had no idea what they really meant. What would I use them for? What did they do?
I didn’t know what was going on. I certainly had no idea where I was, except that I had escaped my grave. All I knew was I wanted to stay with the angel, grasping hold of her. I felt safe.
I sat clinging to the stone monument until I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye. My eyes felt heavy, but I tried to focus on it, a tall figure walking towards me. I heard a familiar voice.
“Annalee?” As the figure approached, I could hear the voice more clearly, a deep, sensual voice, velvety voice filled with worry and relief. “Annalee!”
I felt myself heaved up, my whole body being lifted from where I was as Vincent wrapped his arms around me. Vincent! It all started to come back to me, everything, even my own name was suddenly there.
“I am sorry…I am so sorry, darling! Nothing happened…I didn’t…I didn’t know you were…I thought… I… I thought you were gone.”
His hands cupped my face, my body completely against his as I watched tears begin to fall from his beautiful eyes.
“You were lifeless. You…nothing happened. Oh, forgive me! Please, forgive me, Annalee. Darling, please?”
I smiled, feeling his lips against my neck, moving up to my cheek. I let my head fall back as he pushed his lips against mine, eagerly kissing me again with that same passion and hunger he had when he sank his teeth into me. I remembered it all and I still felt safe. I was in the arms of another stone angel. My angel…my Vincent.
Out of My Grave Page 21