The familiar feeling of his arm sweeping me up comforted me as he carried me back to his manor. It was the same fortress, though it seemed even bigger, even more menacing, the stone seeming to move, just as in the crypt. It seemed like little creatures were crawling all over it, watching me, watching the night.
As we walked inside, I noticed most of his effects were gone. In the dining room all that remained was the beautiful ebony piano beside the grand fireplace, though his bedchamber was still intact. My eyes recognized everything as he placed me down on the edge of the bed.
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t even begin to form words, mainly because I was preoccupied taking in all the sights and sounds, how everything was sharper, everything clearer, as if my eyes were open for the very first time.
Was this what it was like to be born? Was everything so bright? Did everything seem to be illuminated?
It all had its own light it seemed, the way corners of simple tables picked up light fascinated me. It also hurt. My eyes had not yet adjusted, as if I was locked in a dark room and had suddenly ran out into the sunlight. Everything was painfully, yet beautifully bright.
I sat and looked down to my hands as Vincent began to pace in the room. I bit my lip and winced. He ran over to me.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes were filled with panic.
I brought my hand up to my lip and wiped a small amount of blood away. I didn’t even think I had bitten my lip that hard, just my usual gesture, but I had broken the skin and small drops of blood were forming.
He knelt down in front of me, holding onto my knees as he examined the small droplet on my hand.
“It doesn’t hurt.” My voice caught, scratchy from not using it. I looked up at him. “Why were you in the cemetery?” I was surprised my voice wasn’t as soft as it usually was. Instead it was rough, broken…raspy.
“They would not allow me at your funeral. I came to pay my respects and…” He stopped, looking down at the floor.
I could see the pain in his eyes. “Kill yourself.”
How does a vampire commit suicide? Is their soul in a way saved from the act?
“I told you I would never leave you.”
It then dawned on me that a significant amount of time must have past. “What day is it? How long have I been…dead and buried?”
It felt like I had no emotions, I couldn’t feel anything. I was just numb. I knew it would hit me eventually. A release of some sort sounded nice to me.
His eyes came to mine. “Six days. I was able to run home and my servants found me. They were my alibi, saying I had to be home during your murder because the manor is much too far. So, they ruled it a suicide. Of course, that did not stop your father from threatening me, telling me to leave England. I thought I had lost you.”
He seemed amazed I was still alive, well…somewhat alive.
“I saw it. I saw you cutting your wrist.” I lifted his hand up and looked at it, seeing a small but faint scar, still healing. I could hear it healing! If I focused hard enough I could see it mending together, fading slowly. My eyes widened as I stared. I could see now why Vincent didn’t want to touch me—everything seemed to have its own life to it. It certainly was intimate. Of course, now that blood didn’t pump through me and my heart didn’t beat, it was a different kind of intimacy…undead intimacy. It was like the silence from me was amplifying it all.
He shook his head. “I really thought I had lost control. I had taken too much. I did take too much, you should have rose immediately after, not awoke in a coffin. How barbaric.”
Flashes of the coffin whipped through my mind. Horrifying flashes. I suppose I should be thankful they didn’t place my coffin in the stone sarcophagus as they usually do, as they had with my mother in the same crypt. Something tells me breaking through stone would have been much harder.
He stood up before he turned to me. “Are you all right? I cannot apologize enough, darling. I should have been there.” He paused before he turned back to me. “This is not the way it was supposed to be. Do you see what your impatience brought?” His voice boomed throughout the room.
I winced as the volume of it made my eardrums ache. I still wanted to smile though. I liked it when he was angered with me. It showed there was no change from when I was human. He still loved me.
I looked around the room, my mouth open slightly. “So, what do we do now?”
“We will need to continue on our way, move away from here.”
He began to pace again. I could almost hear his thoughts running wild. I knew they were.
“Where will we go?” I felt my eyes relaxing, not to the point of closing, but that uncontrollable moment when everything goes fuzzy because you can’t focus. It felt nice. I let them continue to relax sitting and staring off into nothing.
He walked up and knelt in front of me once again. “Anywhere you wish.”
My eyes snapped back, looking to him. “I feel…tired. I feel…weak.” I wasn’t really all that sure if I had heard him before. I was concentrating on how I felt, that I was feeling something.
“It is from your body dying. You need to feed, I should really show you how it is done, I suppose.” He pushed my hair off my shoulder. “We should clean you up, I am sure this burial gown is a dead give-away,” he said, smiling wickedly.
* * * *
We ran through the field to my father’s manor, the field slightly wet. It seemed it had rained while I was sleeping. I had decided to call it sleeping because after all, it was only presently that my body was dying. It was also less terrifying.
I loved the smell of the field, of the open spaces. I loved how the stars were twinkling, how all of them seemed so much brighter and as if I could touch them. There were a few moments where Vincent needed to tug on my hand.
“No time for that now. Once we get you dressed and fed.”
He kissed me, the feeling lingering as I continued to walk, this time following him because I wanted to kiss him again.
I was much too weak to keep up at a vampiric pace—I still needed to dawdle like a mortal. I needed to feed. The thought of that word unsettled me. The hunger I would feel would be immensely different from a human hunger for food.
We made our way to the silent manor. It was also dark, but again, everything was illuminated in my eyes. I had no problems at all looking through the shadows and seeing everything clearly.
We walked past the fountain and to the doors that led into the sitting room. I looked up, seeing my window above it, wide open. It appeared different somehow. I guess I never really paid attention to my window, never acknowledged what it looked like or where it sat on the house.
I was jolted slightly as Vincent swept me up in his arms. With a swift jump, he was up on the ledge of the window and in through it, standing with me in his arms in the center of the room by my bed.
I quickly scanned my room. Nothing had really been touched. Everything was the same. I was surprised that nothing was packed away, though it had only been six days.
Vincent quickly ran to my wardrobe, grabbing out gowns and several pairs of slippers. I walked over to my vanity looking over the looking-glass and finally seeing myself. I wasn’t shocked, though to a normal person, I would have been horrifying. I was dirty and bloodied. My gown was ripped. My hair tangled. I looked as if I had stepped out of my grave.
My eyes went to my vanity top, seeing a few rings scattered on top of it. Perhaps Bess sifted through them for the perfect ring to put on my finger.
I looked down quickly, noticing I wasn’t wearing Vincent’s ring. Instead I wore my mother’s emerald. I picked through trying to find Vincent’s. It was after all, a family heirloom. I frantically searched, finding nothing but some of the other jewelry he had purchased for me. I looked around on the floor, my eyes sweeping everywhere until I saw a glimmer on the floor by the bed. I got down on all fours while Vincent walked over to the vanity, scooping up the jewelry and putting it in his pockets.
I sighed in relief when I saw th
e amethyst, grabbing it from the post by my bed. There was a drop of blood beside it. That’s when I noticed there was blood all over the floor, soaking the carpet.
“We should go,” he whispered.
I heard something. I stopped, listening. It was like a beat of a drum. It was slow but constant, my ears perked up to it. I stood up. “What’s that sound?”
I had to find out what it was. I needed to follow it. I walked to the door and pushed it open further, walking out into the hallway. Everything was familiar, the way the banister wrapped around in a half circle from the wall by my bedchamber to my right stretching around until it reached the staircase on my left. The parlor, my father’s room, the spare bedchamber. I knew it all, yet it was so…distant.
“Annalee! Wait!” Vincent whispered.
I walked around the banister making my way to the staircase, still following the drum. It was a constant beat that made me want to swoon. It sounded so emotional, so deep. As I made it to the end of the staircase, into the foyer I felt an overwhelming sadness.
Is this the emotional break? That was fast…
My thoughts seemed to echo in my head, though they were drowned out easily by the drum. I continued to follow it as it got louder, making my way through the dining room and into the hallway where my father’s study and the small library sat.
I found myself stopping in front of the study. I stood staring at the door handle, the beating continuing. I pushed open the door as quietly as I could to see my father sitting in a chair in front of the fire with a brandy glass in his hand.
I almost gasped, realizing my ears had brought me to my father and his heartbeat. It wasn’t drums, there were no drums—it was just my father’s heart, beating at a regular pace as he sat in front of the warm fire, Higgins beside him on the floor.
I felt like crying. I felt sorrow. I felt despair. I felt such sadness I wanted to break down into a pool of misery.
It is him.
It was my father’s pain. He had lost me. He had truly lost me. He could never see me ever again. I was dead. After all the pain and discomfort we had gone through during that week, I had truly left him. I had hurt him beyond any yelling or…anything, really.
And yet, I was happy with my decision. I had only been a vampire for a handful of hours, but, it seemed right to me. Even as I was in the cemetery, feeling my fangs for the first time, it felt right. I had made the right decision for me, but what about him? What about my father?
Did he really miss me? Perhaps my passing was really a blessing. He no longer had to worry about marrying me off, providing for me, dealing with my refusal to be with anyone but Vincent.
He was free from that. He should be happy, as I was. Yet, he wasn’t. I could feel the pain, as if his heart was broken. Did he blame himself? Did he honestly believe I committed suicide? I wished I could read his mind or ask him.
I could imagine what he would say.
“Daddy, why are you sad?”
“Because you killed yourself. I should have let you be with the one you loved, it is my fault that you killed yourself.”
I felt tears falling from my eyes as a sense of shame fell over me. I realized I would never hear him say ‘Poppet’. I would not hear his laughter as we played bridge before supper. I would not sit with him and sneak a chocolate. I would not see him curl his lip under his mustache and nod his head as he did when he was thinking. He would never see me off to bed again.
I felt Vincent’s hand on my shoulder, my head falling to the side, my cheek resting on it. I was sad. My own heart was breaking. I was causing a person I loved so much pain and discomfort because I wasn’t patient. I was exactly what Vincent had called me before. I was difficult.
I suppose if I had done things properly, I would have been able to fool my father. Tell him I was sick while I was adjusting to my new life, marry Vincent, live with him and visit my father for supper, pretending to dine. Vincent played a mortal so well, I am sure I could have done it just the same. But, now it was too late.
Vincent grabbed my hand, turning me towards him. He had one of my smaller trunks in the other hand, no doubt filled with my gowns, shoes and jewelry, everything I would need to move on from this life.
He led me out and we began our way to the small copse in the field, half way between my father’s land and Vincent’s. My emotions consumed me. The intensity of everything was almost too much. If I were still mortal I would have slit my own throat from the guilt and sadness I felt. It seemed in being immortal, you were also blessed with a certain strength that went beyond the physical.
We entered the small copse, everything looking quite the same and quite different all at the same time. Everything was familiar, but there were new things I hadn’t noticed before with my feeble mortal eyes.
As I looked around, still crying, Vincent undressed and redressed me, putting me in a dark violet gown with a light blue sash and my violet silk slippers. He even dressed my hair, pulling out the garland of roses, the leaves from them that were caught in it. My hair was wavy, full and thick—not straight and dull as it was before. It shone in the light, looking full and irresistible.
Vincent pulled out a handkerchief and wiped my face with it, wiping all the dirt and blood from the garland of roses on my head. When I was presentable he took my cloak, which he had taken from the foyer before we left, and threw it around my shoulders.
I sniffed, as he looked into my eyes and fastened the clasp at my neck.
“There. Now you look like a vampire princess.” He looked me over once more before our eyes met.
I felt more tears building, though I tried to choke them and the sobs back. “I’m sad.”
He nodded his head. “A mortal’s heartbeat is filled with a lot of emotion. That particular emotion was probably not the best to start out with, but there is not much we can do to change that now. It will get easier. You will be able shut them out as long as there are not too many around.” He stroked my cheek. “You have an advantage, you know. Because of this beautiful face you will be able to catch a meal quite quickly.”
He smiled, pointing his finger on my nose.
I smiled, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Come now, we will get you fed, perhaps you will feel better.”
We took back routes, making sure no one would see us prowling in the night. Vincent dropped off my trunk by his stables before we continued on. I noticed once we got closer to town the silence and serene hiss of the open fields and countryside seemed to disappear. Instead there was a loud bustling, a constant banter. Noise. Lots of noise. That is all it was, it was noise. It was loud and unidentifiable. Everything meshed together and made me want to scratch my ears out. My face was scrunched into a state of pain, the sounds making my skin crawl.
“It is not for long, darling. We will find a pub and get you a foolish meal.” Vincent’s voice broke through the banter, giving me only a few moments of sweet relief from it.
If I concentrated on one sound, the rest seemed to float away and I was able to cope, but it was picking out that one sound. It was like trying to pick a needle out of a pile of other needles.
We stood in the shadows of a pub on the outskirts of town. We didn’t dare venture any further in town. In this remote place it was quite loud. I could only imagine what it would be like closer to the center of business.
I felt Vincent’s hand on the small of my back, rubbing it, which was soothing. The darkness from the shadows was comforting for my eyes, but the light from the pub stung. I was hopeful we would not venture inside. The smells, the sounds, the sights, I feared it would be far too much.
A young man, perhaps only fifteen, walked out of the pub examining some glittering coins in his hand. I could smell the sweat on him—I could smell someone else’s sweat on him.
I turned to Vincent. “I smell…filth.” I swallowed hard, trying not to take any more of the scent in. To do so made my stomach flip within me.
He nodded. “Yes, he is a prostitute. He must h
ave just finished with a client.” His eyes scanned around until he stopped at a coach, pointing. “That man there.”
I looked in the direction he pointed and nodded. I could smell the young boy all over him. It disgusted me. I flinched away, looking back to the boy.
“You should take the boy. Something tells me his customer wouldn’t much like a beautiful young lady.”
I looked up to him, shocked. Though he had a point, he just paid for sexual services from a young boy rather than one of the many women that lined the streets.
“What do I do?” I said to him, confused.
“Walk over to him and lead him into the shadows. Make sure he does not make a sound. You can bite him wherever you wish, the neck is not the easiest, but they can’t struggle for long. Make sure you drain him completely, the heart must stop while you are latched onto him but you must stop immediately once it does.”
I gave him a worried look.
He smiled. “Do not worry, it is a natural thing. You will be surprised how easily it comes to you. Now go on, before we need to find someone else.” He pushed me lightly and gestured towards the boy.
I stumbled forward, swallowing hard as I nervously made my way over to the young boy. When I approached him he quickly bowed his head, straightening up.
“Well ‘ello, my lady.”
I smiled sweetly. “I was wondering if you could help me. I am new here and I have found myself lost. Could you possibly help me find my way?” I noticed how soft and sensuous my voice came out. The boy quickly put his money in his pocket as he straightened himself out, glancing around.
“Well yeah, where are you headed?” He brushed his hand through his dark and dirty hair, the smell of sweat coming off it.
I nearly gagged. I stopped myself and swallowed as I pointed towards the shadows where Vincent had disappeared from. “I was heading that way towards an inn but I got turned around. I am not even sure if I have the right address.” I gave him the address to a local pub and inn. I knew exactly where it was, but as Vincent said, it came naturally to me to deceive the young boy.
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