Out of My Grave

by Stephanie O'Hanlon

  “Thank you. After you have made sure what is left of the household is sold and the personal effects I have left behind are shipped safely, you are free of my services.” He was about to get into the carriage when a familiar voice rang out.

  “Mister Moor.”

  I froze completely, my eyes wide on the carriage wall in front of me.

  “Doctor Harding.” Vincent’s voice was soft and gentle.

  “On your way, I see.” I heard my father’s feet shuffle on the ground.

  My eyes filled with tears as his heartbeat began to engulf my ears. It was the same slow, painful drum.

  “Yes, as you requested. I apologize it took so long, I would not want to cause you any discomfort. I will be gone and, as you asked, never return.” Vincent turned to get into the carriage but was again stopped by my father’s voice.

  “I want you to know I understand you loved Annalee.” His voice was slow, this was something he had thought on for a while. I remembered the way he used to sit and think, the way his mustache would seem to wiggle, his top lip curl under it as his bottom lip thinned out, nodding his head. I felt a tear fall down my cheek.

  “I still love her. I will never stop loving her.” Vincent did not turn back to him.

  “Well, I understand that now. I did not before, and perhaps, if I was more understanding…she would still…we would still have her.” His voice was strangled, as if his heart was breaking thinking of it.

  Vincent let his head fall but turned to him. “Doctor Harding, your daughter will always hold a very special place within me. She thought nothing but love towards you and I am completely certain in her last moments, she thought of nothing but that love for you. It was not your misunderstanding. It was Annalee’s impatience, her misunderstanding.” I could hear his voice filled with the usual anger he had for me when I did something he didn’t approve of, or he saw me as impulsive.

  I shook my head, guilt pulsing through me. My last thoughts were of Vincent.

  Vincent’s voice softly broke through my train of thought. “I must apologize. I have to be going.” He turned away from my father and got into the carriage. As soon as the door closed, I jumped from where I sat over to Vincent and into his arms.

  * * * *

  There was silence in the carriage as we made our way towards the town of Whittley, which was nearly half a day away from London.

  It was in the evening when we arrived at our new home. It felt strange when the carriage came to a stop and I was able to get out just as I would normally, with my arm in Vincent’s. It was no matter if anyone saw us, they didn’t know who we were.

  A heavy sigh of relief overcame me as I stepped out of the carriage, my hand in Vincent’s, as I looked up the path that led to our new home. We were finally where I wanted us to be so long ago.

  I glanced the way we had come, up the small path and set of steps to the grand estate. A menacing iron gate and fence reached from the road around, caging off the grounds. The house wasn’t as secluded as Vincent’s other manor, which was directly outside of town, but it was larger and just as dark and fortress-like. The gate made it forbidden for others to even look in.

  I felt Vincent’s hand on my waist as he began to lead me up the path to the steps. The large home had two towering windows on the lower level on either side of the door and two on the upper, straight above the bottom. Directly above the door was a widow’s walk with a set of French doors behind it.

  “Welcome home.” Vincent’s voice was soft, his lips up against my ear.

  We walked inside, the foyer open until two enormous pillars by the staircase that wound around until it disappeared to the upper level behind the wall, which slanted and had a staircase pattern on it until it smoothed out to the ceiling.

  To our left was the entrance to the dining room with a set of doors leading to the kitchen on the far wall, parallel to the windows on the front of the house. The table and chairs that held so many mortal memories were already set up, as well as some of Vincent’s art and heavy drapes.

  To our right was the entrance to the sitting room with a beautiful plush settee with its back to the windows on the front of the home, low sitting table in between it and a set of three matching armchairs.

  I had only peered into the dining room, but I actually stepped into the sitting room, stopping in the middle of it. I looked to my right, which was parallel to the doors out to the foyer, seeing more of the expansive windows, making the space so open and full of light.

  “My piano will go there,” Vincent said as he pointed to the corner of the room by another set of doors, opposite the sitting area.

  My eyes went to the doors at the end of the room, behind where the piano was to sit. I pointed to them. “Where do those lead?”

  He walked over and opened them. “The ballroom.”

  My eyes went wide, peering into the room from the set of doors. The walls stretched down it, four sets of French doors sitting on the left leading to an enormous courtyard.

  “Ballroom? It is like a castle.” I laughed, looking up to the grand chandelier in the middle of the sitting room, as well as a few sculptures and some art on the walls.

  He turned to me, confused. “You do not deserve a castle?”

  “I do not think I deserve much of anything.” I frowned tiredly.

  I didn’t know why I said it. I thought about it, knowing I was secretly feeling that emotional numbness slowly fading away. I was slowly feeling again. I really noticed it when I broke down because of my father’s sadness. I was almost completely sure it was my own sadness I felt, not his. But, I would never really be sure, would I?

  “Come, show me the upstairs.” I put my hand out to take his.

  We walked up the staircase to the second level. Directly in front of us was the parlor, which had the balcony out front, to the right was the library, and to the left was the study.

  Down the hallway from the library were a set of two bedchambers, and down the hallway from the library was the grand master bedchamber.

  We walked inside, all of it furnished, an enormous wooden four poster bed in the center of the room, two antique bedside tables, one on each side. A wardrobe sat on the wall to the left, and a settee in front of the fireplace to the right. It was beautiful, enchanting.

  It was all I wanted…I wanted to live in a lavish home with Vincent, be able to throw parties, pretend we were man and wife. But, I could not help the sadness…it was still there, bubbling to the surface, just like when I felt that predatory switch when I devoured the milkmaid. Only, this was different.

  “I took the liberty of buying you more gowns, also some jewelry and shoes,” Vincent said as he opened the wardrobe. He turned to me, taking off his frock coat and tossing it on a chair by a vanity. “You have an entire room dedicated to your fashions and accessories. I did not know if you were one for hats, but I suppose we could always go into town tomorrow and look at them.”

  “Thank you,” I said quietly, turning to the bed.

  He was suddenly by my side, looking my face over. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said as I turned away from him.

  He turned me back to him. “No, what’s wrong? You are upset about something.”

  I fought back tears as I tried to shake my head.

  “Why are you upset?” I felt his hand on my cheek and closed my eyes as I leaned into it.

  “He is so sad, Vincent, he is so lonely. Did you hear him?” My voice felt small as tears began to fall from my eyes.

  He frowned, shaking his head. “I was afraid of this happening.”

  “What?” I asked, the tears streaming down once again.

  “You started out with the wrong emotion, Annalee. It has now attached itself to you. You will be more vulnerable to it. I was hoping you would work through most of your emotions while you were adjusting.”

  “I do not care about me. What about him, Vincent?”

  “He is human, Annalee. He is none of our concern anymore. We have
a new life now.”

  I ripped away from him angrily, turning to the large windows, looking out it. I could see the stables from it, see servants running about. I tried my best to stop the tears that kept flowing, but I didn’t know how. It was overwhelming me.

  “He will be all right, darling,” Vincent said as he put his arms around me, his head falling to my neck, where he nestled it.

  My anger melted away as I closed my eyes, sadness in its place. “What if he takes his own life?”

  He sighed angrily, pulling away from, walking to the center of the room. “Annalee, it is none of our concern!”

  “How can you say that?” I said, turning to him.

  “You are no longer Annalee Harding!” he shouted, his voice booming off the walls. “Doctor Thomas S. Harding is not your father anymore! You are Annalee Moor!” He grabbed his frock coat and threw it on the floor angrily. “You are a vampire, the undead! I understand how much he meant to you as a mortal. I had a mother once, I know how it feels to have a parent taken away, but you are no longer like him! You are like me, as you asked! You are my love, my life, my companion, forever!”

  His eyes burned, a heat bouncing off of him, his muscles tensing from anger.

  I felt tears build as I pulled my hands over my ears. His voice was booming throughout them, making them feel as if they were going to explode from the force.

  He ran up to me and grabbed my waist. “Annalee! Listen to me!”

  I opened my eyes to meet his. And that was it. I broke down, that emotional break I was longing for, or I thought I had been longing for.

  Vincent cared for me. My father cared for me. But, I had chosen Vincent. I had actually chosen someone over my own father. What was worse…I felt no regret.

  I began to sob loudly, pulling at his blouse, pulling myself into him. He held me as I shook with my sobs, his head resting on my own. I shook my head, pulling away from him, even as he tried to pull me back. I was stronger now. Perhaps, not as strong as Vincent, but I had strength. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled away from him, pushing him away from me as hard I could, disappearing out the door with my newfound preternatural strength.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bloodthirsty

  The last words that rung in my ears as I ran down the spiral staircase were not Vincent’s calling my name. It was instead his words about my father, Doctor Thomas S. Harding not being my father anymore.

  He is no longer our concern.

  Before I made it to the bottom landing of the staircase, Vincent was suddenly there, waiting to stop me.

  “Annalee! Stop!”

  I shook my head as I used all my new strength to push him aside, running through the foyer and out the door. But, yet again, he was standing in front of me, blocking my way, in a blink of an eye.

  “You will let me leave.” I screamed as I push passed him again.

  I began to run down the path, picking up speed until I found myself in town, running through the shadows. I ran over to a tight space between two buildings where I stood in the darkness and then sat on the ground, my petticoat billowing out around me.

  I sat and sobbed until I heard Vincent’s voice.

  “You are going to ruin that gown sitting on the cold ground.”

  I looked up at him, tears running down my face. “Wherever I go, you will find me won’t you?”

  He leaned against the building. “Yes. I will always find you. Do you know why?”

  “I suppose you will tell me it is because you love me,” I said, sniffing, folding my hands before me.

  “And you would be wrong,” he said, crossing his arms. “It is because my blood runs through your veins. You are a part of me now.” He was suddenly kneeling down beside me, looking into my teary eyes. “And yes, I do love you. I love you that much more because of that.”

  “But you do not care what happens to him!” I shouted. “You do not care if he kills himself over what I have done! If he suffers until the end of his life! Do you know what makes it worse?” I asked as I got up. “Even if I had the chance, I would not take it back.”

  He stared up at me, standing slowly.

  “If someone told to me they could take it all back and make me human again, I would tell them I do not want it!”

  “Which makes you unhappy,” Vincent shouted, “and you being unhappy puts me in pain, which in turn makes you even unhappier. There is no winning with you, Annalee! You need to give into one of them. You either accept Doctor Harding is going to feel pain, or accept the fact you cannot change that.”

  I stood for a moment and stared at him. “What if I deserve to be in pain?”

  “Christ,” he yelled, walking away angrily. “Do not tell me you are suddenly gathering a conscience. It will do you no good as what we are.”

  “You think you do not have a conscience?” I asked, shocked.

  “Not in the way you think,” he shouted. “Jesus, Annalee, if you keep on this line of thought, you will not even be able to kill anymore!”

  My anger bubbled up inside of me as I glared into his eyes. I turned, almost unable to contain myself, stalking off and into the street. My eyes narrowed, picking up all the light, all the people, their scents tickling my nose as I felt the air moving through my hair.

  Suddenly, I stopped, closing my eyes as I was suddenly hit with a scent like vanilla and strawberries. I turned, my eyes still closed until I stopped again and opened my eyes slowly. My sight narrowed on a young woman, perhaps fourteen, her perfect blonde hair pulled up, the wind blowing through her curls.

  I was at her side before she could even bat an eye, my hand clamped over her mouth before she could even think of screaming. I was back over to Vincent in a flash, standing before him with her in my arms, struggling, though she was like a rag doll, easily held tightly.

  Vincent stood, shocked at how violent I was being. He pointed to the street, his emerald eyes bouncing around. “Are you insane? Someone could have seen you!”

  I didn’t bother answering him. I pulled the girl’s neck to the side, sinking my teeth into her young skin, my eyes locked with Vincent’s. The girl’s blood spurted into my mouth quickly, slipping passed my tongue and down my throat, my lungs being filled with her scent from her skin and hair. It all mixed deliciously.

  The blood pulsed quickly and then started to slow. I knew soon enough I would need to let go. She stopped struggling as she became more drained, her movements becoming less frantic. She was unable to scream or let out anything more than a small whimper, almost seeming to enjoy me taking her life. Her heart let out its final beat, signaling to me to let the body go. I threw her to the ground.

  I stood, gasping for air, only a small drop of the blood running down from the side of my mouth, my lips coated in it, my tongue and teeth glistening with it.

  All Vincent could do was stand incredibly still and stare at me, seemingly unable to move or even speak.

  I walked up to him angrily, pushing him up against the wall of the building as hard as I could, the foundation shaking beneath him. I knew he could have pushed me away easily at any time, but he didn’t.

  He kept his eyes locked on mine. I could feel his skin tingling and his muscles tensing beneath me. He leaned forward quickly, pressing his lips against mine, tasting the blood in my mouth. He kissed the blood away on my chin and then trailed kisses up my cheek until he reached my neck, a sudden prick startling me.

  My blood started to pump out, all the fresh blood I had just ingested flowing into his mouth. He gulped at it, grunting beneath me, as if he hadn’t fed in days, weeks, months. I quickly put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him into me more, enjoying the feeling of my blood emptying out into his body.

  Vincent shuddered as he let out a deep moan, turning me and pushing me up against the building roughly. I looked down as he pulled away from me, his body falling into mine, his head falling to my shoulder.

  I turned his neck to the side and saw the faint scar from earlier nearly compl
etely healed and bit down in the same spot. His body tensed, his hand squeezing tightly and digging into my arm. Yet again, his blood began to seep out, only it didn’t taste entirely of him, I could taste my own blood as well as my kill’s, pulsing its way into my mouth and down my throat.

  I felt a moan make its way out of my throat, almost a whimper. His hand grasped around my waist and pulled my hips into him, but I had to let go. I knew his moans were starting to not only be of pleasure, but of pain—I was hurting him. I pulled away from him, my body drained and replenished at the same time, wanting to run and jump but also fall to the ground in exhaustion.

  “We need to…need to make it down the street,” he said, panting hard. “The carriage is there. I had them meet us here.”

  I nodded my head as we began to stumble out of the shadows, walking out into the street. I suppose we appeared to be just like any other drunken couple, stumbling around in the deepening shadows, though the sun only had just begun to set. I would suppose in a town that was really just a rest-stop, being drunk during the day would not be too out of place.

  We made it to the carriage, which was as he said, down the street waiting for us in front of a tavern. Now we really looked like a drunken couple. The driver helped us into the back compartment.

  “There you are, my lady,” he said as he helped me up the step into the back of the carriage after Vincent. Once inside, I fell against him, grasping hold of him tightly.

  Everything was tossing and turning as my body ached and pulsed, very different from my withdrawals, Vincent’s body doing the same beside me.

  I turned to him, pulling his face towards me and kissing him viciously, feeling sweat beginning to pour its way down my forehead. My whole body felt hot…an uncomfortable hot, but bearable. Feeling our blood mix together inside of me made everything flicker and beat, my skin felt as if it was crawling, sweat covering every inch of me. It was almost impossible to stay still, especially in the back of the carriage.

  When we arrived at our new home, Vincent grabbed hold of me and carried me up to the bedroom, though he could barely move himself.