Out of My Grave

by Stephanie O'Hanlon

  “Yes! Yes! And she is dead on her feet!” Dale rang in, speaking of Bess so coldly.

  I didn’t find it funny though they continued to laugh and sip at their cups, which when I looked closer were filled with blood.

  Vincent walked up behind me, passed me, over to the table and stood in front of them, reaching for the teapot and tipping it into a cup, blood pouring out of the spout. He raised his cup to me, smiling and nodding his head, the rest of them laughing behind him.

  I tried to close my eyes and keep them from what I was seeing, but when they struggled open, I saw a figure walk over to my father’s body and begin to lap up the spilt blood. When I took a second look, I saw the figure was me. It was me leaning over his body and wickedly smiling as I ripped into my father’s throat.

  I began to scream, sitting up in the bed and jumping out of it, running to the center of the room and continuing to scream. Vincent was there in a flash.

  “What is it? What is wrong?” He tried to raise his voice above mine, the look of worry not only playing on his face but in his voice as well. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

  I silenced at once and looked around the room. My eyes continue to blankly look around until I realized I was awake. “It was a dream. It was just a dream,” I said to myself. I looked up to Vincent. “It was just a dream.”

  He angrily turned away from me. “Just a dream? Jesus Christ, what kind of dream was that! Christ Almighty.”

  I turned to the bed, breathing heavily, trying to calm myself, my body shook and my ears pulsed from my own piercing scream.

  “One would think someone was torturing you. I thought someone was in the room with you, God damn it.” He ran his hand through his hair, loose from its ribbon, the ends lightly brushing against his shoulders, waves here and there, but most of it straight. It was the first time I had seen him like that.

  I sat on the bed and pulled my legs under me, my nightgown covering them. “I’m sorry.” The images continued to flash in my mind. “It was just a dream,” I kept reassuring myself.

  He turned to me. “You said that. My God, Annalee, my heart nearly jumped from my chest!”

  I gave a little half smile. “I am sorry. It was only a dream.”

  I suddenly felt like I wanted to laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. My eyes went to the floor, trying to convince myself still that the images in my head were nothing but a dream. Things felt too real. It didn’t feel like a dream. But, I was in the room, I was in our bed, I was not outside, it was not even day anymore, it was into the night. I felt the familiar burning ache in my stomach, only lightly, my throat pulsing and dry. I still wanted to laugh.

  He walked over to me, looking me over. “Are you all right?”

  He was calming down himself as his anger slowly disappeared, concern making its way to the surface.

  I nodded. “I am fine. Hungry. Perhaps that is why the dream.”

  I tried to reason with myself that my body sensed I needed to feed, that was why I was dreaming of blood and feeding off of it. The reason I dreamed of my father was because we were speaking of him before I fell asleep. It was simple. Yet, I could not shake the feeling it was not simply a dream, nor could I could shake the feeling of wanting to laugh hysterically.

  I then felt that pulsing, getting a bit light-headed. I looked at him, and somehow he knew.

  “Let’s get you changed,” he said.

  Vincent got me into one of my green gowns, putting my cloak around me and sneaking me off of the property. I was lucky no one had heard my scream. All the servants were at the stables. Those wild dogs again.

  The pulsing was getting worse as we walked along, making our way across the field behind Vincent’s property. The cool night air felt wonderful against my skin, the summer night sky twinkling with stars scattered here and there.

  We came to another field with livestock in it, mainly cows. We made our way swiftly to the dairy, seeing a maid cleaning up after milking her share of cows. It must have really been early in the morning, before the sun began to rise.

  Vincent got close to my ear. “Do you want me to lead her over, or do you want to try again?”

  I licked my lips. I suddenly felt different…I felt that animalistic part of me bubble to the surface. My eyes narrowed on her, my nose seemed to weed through the smell of feces and cows—right to the maid, her scent overwhelming me. My voice came out like a purr. “I want to try.”

  Vincent stepped back behind the lip of the barn. I could feel his excitement. He liked to watch me.

  I walked into the barn, stumbling. The maid looked up, gasping, standing up straight and stepping back.

  I fell to the floor, crawling forward, looking up to her. “Please! You need to help me!”

  The maid quickly ran forward, getting on her knees. “What is wrong?”

  She wasn’t close enough. I struggled up. “A man, he was after me, please! You must help me!”

  “The blacksmith is on the other side of the barn, shoeing the horses. He will be able to help. Here, let me help you up.” She leaned into to me to help me, her throat bare and close.

  I suddenly lunged, grabbing hold of her, sinking my teeth into her. She bucked under me, screaming, so I put my hand over her mouth. Her blood was so pure! She had not seen even a glimmer of sin. She was still a virgin! I could feel her heart beating quickly. She was frightened, but tired, losing all the fight in her. Her movements slowed, her body falling into me.

  The blood raced down my throat, comforting my stomach which, up until that point, felt a little sore. I gulped feverishly until her heart slowed and eventually stopped. I let go, pushing her body away from me. I wiped a little drop of blood at the side of my mouth, licking the blood off of the tip of my finger.

  I stood, looking at Vincent, who stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame.

  “Now, that…” he began, crossing his arms, “…was a thing of beauty.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Whittley and the Moor Manor

  I couldn’t believe how good I felt after I fed.

  There was no pain. I was restless, just as before, but the blood ran through me in a very pleasurable way. I especially felt pleasure while I was latched onto the milkmaid, her blood so pure, so crystal clear, and so silky. It soothed the ache within me, the light-headedness, the dizziness. I felt well…not myself, far from it, but well.

  I knew I was never going to be myself again. I was no longer the same Annalee. I was dead, the undead. I was turning into a new person. This person enjoyed the thrill of a kill.

  Everything was still bright, but it was clear, it no longer seemed to hurt my eyes, though sounds were still a problem. A carriage passed by us and brought me to my knees from the intensity of it. Thankfully, Vincent was there to catch me, my champion as always.

  The burning that coursed through me after I fed was much different than before, it wasn’t painful but it made me want to move, it made me restless. I wanted to run, I wanted to push things. I wanted to do something with my body to keep it from aching when I stood still.

  We still kept to the shadows, running around into the outskirts of town, finding a young girl who must have been passing through. We did away with her easily, sharing her. I was almost full anyway from the milkmaid.

  I was seeing exactly what Vincent meant by each victim having a different taste, just like wine. The young girl was far from a virgin, but she was still innocent, you could tell simply by looking at her and listening very carefully to her heartbeat. She wasn’t concerned with much else other than her suitor and what people thought of her. She was me…so long ago. I hoped I had saved her from an unfortunate situation like my own.

  When we started back for the manor I was still restless, enjoying the walk back, the morning sun bright and warm, though it still hurt my eyes. But, by the time we actually reached the manor, I was starting to feel the withdrawal. My body was burning through the blood easily, probably from excessive energy.

&
nbsp; Vincent stayed with me until the body aches subsided, which lasted only an hour, not the endless hours it had before. I was still quite tired, so Vincent put me to bed. It was well into the morning before he did so, but I was too tired to really care.

  When I awoke I had, yet again, slept another day away. I was almost getting used to the night, though there was very little of it left when I was fully awake.

  Vincent walked into the bedchamber with a glass bottle filled with a thick, crimson liquid. I instantly recognized it as blood, the smell reaching me just as he entered the room.

  He walked over to me, sitting beside me on the bed, as I had not decided to actually get up. “I brought you breakfast in bed,” he smiled.

  I took the bottle, opening it and taking a large gulp of it. I hadn’t felt the pangs of hunger, but it still soothed my stomach. I licked my lips. “Thank you.”

  “We will be leaving for Whittley in a little bit. There was not enough time for us to hunt, so I quickly made use of another maid in the same household as the one you took yesterday.”

  I nodded, taking another good gulp.

  He smiled. “You seem to enjoy the virgin blood.”

  I looked to him, nodding. “It is…clean.”

  He laughed. “That is one way to put it. I will need to remember when you have breakfast in bed that I should make sure it is virgin blood I bring you.”

  I gulped at it again and again until the bottle was empty. Vincent took the bottle and placed it on the little table beside the bed.

  “What is to happen with all the furniture that remains?” I asked, licking my lips, trying to seek out any that had spilt.

  “I have arranged for my piano to be brought to our new home after we have settled in, a week, maybe. The rest of the furniture is to be sold off. We will purchase new furniture in Whittley.”

  He stood, walking to the center of the room.

  “What is Whittley like?” I asked, pulling the linens back.

  “It is a lovely place, mostly farmland. I believe it is really just a stop for travelers, not really a place to start any real business ventures. I left out a gown for you. We shall place your nightgown in my last trunk, which Jacques is going to see placed on the carriage.”

  The concept of living in Whittley was still far away from me though I knew we would be able to function as a normal couple without people knowing who I was. I would be able to make friends, hold parties—make the general population believe that Vincent and I were normal people living normal lives. The Earl and his Countess.

  Then the fun would begin. Behind closed doors Vincent and I would prowl the night and feed. I loved the thought of it. It was as comforting as the cemetery was, which was still so present on my mind.

  I remembered how I saw Vincent as my stone angel as I held on to him. The moment I woke in that coffin and made my way out of my grave, I knew things were as they should be. It wasn’t that long ago it happened, a handful of days but it felt like I had already lived an eternity.

  I wondered if that memory would stay with me. If I would always remember what it was like when my body fell to the cold ground of the mausoleum, and the way the room seemed to move of its own volition, the way the light danced around the room and everything was illuminated. Would I hold that memory to me forever?

  In living an eternity, one would think perhaps you wouldn’t remember everything. Certain memories would dissolve to make way for newer ones, just like when you are mortal. Would my mortal memories disappear? There were some I held dear to me, but at the same time, there were some it saddened me to think of.

  I was slightly startled by Vincent’s voice and his lips against my cheek, beside me on the bed. “I haven’t lost you, have I?”

  I turned my head to him. “Hmm? Oh, no. Sorry, I was just thinking. It is amazing the way my thoughts seem to run now.”

  His hair was tied back as usual, but little hairs were making their way out yet again. He walked over to the mantle and grabbed his novel off the top of it. “Well, you look a lot better. I told you your body would adjust quickly.”

  He walked over to me and gave me a once over, sitting back on the bed. I looked down to the novel in his hand and then brushed his hair out of his face, smiling as I grabbed the book from him, tossing it to the end of the bed.

  My intention was just have him sit with me, but something in his eyes made my entire body ache. I couldn’t stop myself…I wanted him. There was a snap in the back of my head as I pushed him down with all of my strength, wrestling myself on top of him, kissing him fiercely. He seemed to match my intensity, kissing me back just as viciously, grabbing my waist and violently twisting me so he was on top of me. I am sure the bed rattled beneath us from the shear strength of us, two beings who were far from mortal wrestling around on top of it.

  I grabbed hold of his blouse, taking hold of both sides of it and ripping it, exposing his bare white chest in which I could see every muscle moving and his skin tingling from my skin grazing against his. He let out a deep, gruff moan as I began kissing his neck, biting lightly until one of my sharp fangs cut his skin, his blood beginning to slowly ooze its way out. It was much slower than a mortal’s blood, but still the same consistency.

  I suddenly felt it hit my tongue and a shiver rip through my body, the blood not being as scalding as a mortal’s, being warm, a pleasurable warm and not tasting sweet. I couldn’t even begin to place the taste of it. It was not my intention to cut him as I did, but once the blood had touched my lips I wanted more, letting it drip into my mouth, tasting Vincent.

  A knock at the door interrupted us, Vincent quickly pulling away from me though I still had a strong hold of him, trying to pull him back towards me. As he kissed me quickly I knew he could taste the blood on my lips and in my mouth, his eyes nearly rolling back from it.

  He ran to the door tiredly, stumbling slightly, placing his hand over the small wound that was already healing, the sound tickling my ears. He opened it and looked out to Jacques who I could see from the bed, though I slunk back into the shadows.

  “What!” Vincent’s voice shook.

  Jacques shook from the boom of his voice, looking to the floor. “Master, your coach will be ready in a few moments. I understand you have a trunk that still needs to be tended to.” His voice was so small, if not for my preternatural hearing I probably wouldn’t have even heard a word he said.

  “Fine! Fine! I will call for you when ready.” Vincent’s voice still shook, as he turned and slammed the door shut, taking his hand away from his neck and looking at the small amount of blood on it. He turned to me, his voice still shaking, but gentler. “We need to get you dressed.”

  I staggered up, feeling almost as if I was drugged by his blood. It took a few moments of fumbling with my nightgown before we started to get our bearings back. Vincent then helped me into a green demi-redingote, the sleeves tight to my wrists, the bodice cutting off at my waist sharply before the open robe swept to the ground. It had a large collar, which was folded down, a small, upside down triangular spot was open, a modesty piece attached to my stays of the same green material. Five buttons lined down the center, only the last three coming together.

  My hair was left free, green slippers were put on my feet, and my emerald ring was on my middle finger on my right hand. Of course, I had the ring Vincent gave me firmly on my ring finger on my left hand, which I refused to take off. Isn’t that the finger that leads directly to one’s heart? I wanted Vincent as close to my heart as possible, always.

  Vincent stood before me, pointing to the door. “I will call upon Jacques to come fetch the trunk after I have dressed. You go down to the stables, hide in the carriage.”

  I nodded, turning and walking to the door, opening it and looking out. I didn’t see anyone in the hall, so I stealthily ran down the stairs at the end of the hallway that lead to the kitchen and out back to the stables.

  I hurried as best I could, standing at the door of the stables, looking around to make sure no one
had seen me. I looked behind me, catching glimpse of Jacques walking along side an older man, the carriage driver, making his way towards me from the house.

  I quickly ran inside and over to the carriage, whipping open the door and getting inside. I shut the door behind me and sat in the corner beside it, pulling my legs up and tucking them close to my chest. I could hear Jacques’ and the driver’s voice from outside.

  “You keep your mouth shut, Jacques, I really mean it now. You will just get yourself into more trouble!”

  Jacques’ voice was low. I could tell he was worried Vincent would hear. His heart was speaking for him. “You do not know the things he has done!”

  “Look, you have known the Master has his secrets, we all knew he was different from normal people—”

  “He is not like other people at all! You know he is much more than that!” Jacques voice quickly picked up volume but he forced it back down to a whisper.

  “You knew all this for the longest time, now he is moving on you have no reason to say a word. You should forget about it, like a bad dream. He has been nothin’ but good to us.” The driver’s voice was calm, very reassuring. He had no ill feelings towards Vincent. “Can you not just let him and his lady leave in peace?”

  I felt my heart drop. His lady. Did the entire house know I wasn’t dead? What was keeping them from telling everyone I was still among the living?

  I swallowed hard as the carriage bounced from the driver sitting up top. It jerked forward, the horses slowly making their way out of the stables. I felt it halt and then I heard Vincent’s footsteps from deep within the house making his way passed the dining room and into the archway before walking out of the house.

  As the carriage door opened, I peered around, Vincent’s eyes quickly flashing from me to his servant who was hidden from my view by the door.

  He wore his red velvet frock coat, his silk breeches tucked into his jockey boots, shimmering in the little light there was from the rising sun. I felt the same ache as I had felt before as he stood there seductively.