He’s leaning forward, nostrils flared. Most women would be terrified, but I’m unbelievably aroused.
I reply smoothly, “I didn’t ask for your help back there. I could’ve managed on my own.”
He shakes his head back and forth in disbelief. “To hell you could’ve. C’mon, we’ll finish this conversation over at my place—that is, unless you have more ‘plans’?”
“I’m not sure whether I like or detest you, cowboy.”
“Don’t matter. You’ll be mine soon enough and I assure you that you’ll more than ‘like’ me then.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said, wildcat. Follow me. I don’t live far.”
“You’re impossibly direct.”
“Real men always are, darlin’. C’mon.”
I give him a questioning look and he lands me with, “The least you can do is give me twenty minutes of your time to explain the shit that’s been rollin’ around in my brain from that night down on River Street.”
Turn him down, an inner voice warns. This can’t lead anywhere good for either of us.
My emotions drown out the voice of reason. “All right, just one drink.”
“Whatever you say, boss lady.”
I fight a smile while pulling out behind him.
It’s a good thing I fed two nights ago, which hopefully will give me a modicum of self-control, because his unique, all-male scent is already getting to me. Badly. If his presence alone has this effect on me, I can’t imagine how addictively luscious his blood would be … not to mention what moves he could deliver with that gladiator body of his.
Chapter Five
9:00 a.m.—August 30, 1782
Beauvais Plantation
“One hundred and seventy six. One hundred and seventy seven. One hundred and seventy eight ….”
The sharp rap at my slightly open door pulls me out of my abyss of emptiness.
“Yes?”
My grandfather enters with the doctor, who is taller and lankier than I imagined he’d be. We’ve been waiting for him to arrive from Boston ever since the accident nearly two weeks ago. I’ve tried to prepare myself for any diagnosis, but at this point the unknown is just as horrific as finally hearing the consequences of my terrible decision to ride Sacred Falls.
“Cosette, this is Doctor Harden. As you are aware, he has graciously cleared his hectic schedule and traveled very far to examine you.”
He studies me from a distance, and I can’t help my sudden attack of nerves as I wait for him to proceed.
“I shall leave you two alone. Cosette, I will be two rooms away in my office should you need me.”
“That’s fine, Grandfather.”
“Very well.”
My grandfather turns to leave and I catch the unmistakable look of nervous hope, nearly a plea as his eyes meet those of the doctor. I want to weep at the stress and unrest I have caused him. I bite down on my lower lip to stop it from trembling as the doctor moves slowly toward my oversized cherry wood rice bed.
“Hello, Cosette.”
“H-hello, Doctor Harden.”
“I’m here to assist you. Please don’t be nervous. I took the Hippocratic Oath fifteen years ago, which means that first and foremost I must do no harm and always uphold the highest ethical standards. If possible, I would never do anything to cause you distress, Cosette. Now, if it is not too upsetting, can you tell me in your own words what happened to you on the afternoon of August seventeenth? I realize that recalling such a memory is most unpleasant; however, I need to begin there in order to assess your injury.”
He sets his large, immaculately clean black leather doctor’s bag at the foot of my bed. I watch him straighten, and there is a pleasant look on his clean-shaven face as he patiently waits for my reply.
Hesitantly, I begin, “I was quite reckless with the stallion I was riding that day. I wanted to see what he was capable of. You see, I’ve always been fascinated with speed and risk taking, Dr. Harden. I know that it is likely difficult for you to comprehend, but I love the feeling, the vibrating energy that being that close to danger provides. To be honest, I should have sustained multiple injuries already for all of the mischief I have tangled myself up in throughout my childhood.”
“I hope you don’t mind my saying this, Cosette, but putting a young lady on an untamed racehorse is tantamount to insanity. Your grandfather has explained to me the loss of your mother to yellow fever when you were merely a newborn. He also stated that your father will return any day now from his business travels in London. I hope that we might be able to give him some hopeful news. Why don’t we have a look at you to determine the extent of the damage. May I lower the sheet?”
“Yes. That is fine.”
I watch as he gently lifts each of my limp arms and pulls the starched white cotton down to my toes. I try to will myself to feel the material slide across my thin nightgown, but there is only the recollection of feeling, nothing more.
“Tell me, Cosette. The moment you hit the ground after falling off Scared Falls, did you feel anything?”
“My head hurt badly. That was all.”
“So it was then that you ceased to have sensation below the neck?”
“Yes, that is correct, Doctor.”
“Very well. I would like to raise your gown, just to the knees, and perform a little test on your legs—with your permission.”
“Certainly.”
I watch him curiously as he pulls a small tapered device from his bag that has a thin, pointed end.
“I assure you that I will do nothing other than test your reaction to stimulus in various places. I will draw no blood.”
“All right.”
He touches the probe along my legs, then lower, to each of my toes. I wonder silently if my reactions are at all what he is looking for. I desperately want to pass the test. This man is my only hope for recovery from this hell on earth.
As if speaking to himself, he states softly, “I see you have been well cared for since the accident. Your skin is still in excellent condition. Your caregivers obviously shift and reposition you regularly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, Cosette. I need to examine your upper back and neck, as that is where the major damage was sustained. Let’s rotate you over onto to your stomach.”
I nod as he slowly turns me over. All I can feel is my face brushing against the down pillow and the strands of my long hair as it tangles with the turn.
“Here, let’s shift your head so you can keep your eyes on me. Excellent. Now, I need to lift your gown to your upper back, is this acceptable?”
Oh God! I dread having him look at my body, but I would do anything to be cured.
“Yes. That is fine.”
“Very well.”
With my head tilted I watch him lift the gossamer cotton all the way up to my shoulders. From the position of his body and arms I can see that he is doing something to my back, most likely what was done to my legs earlier. Come on, feel something!
After a long moment he lowers the gown back in place.
“Let’s roll you back over then.”
I try to read the emotions in his smooth voice but he is completely calm—too calm.
When I’m lying face up again he is all business, placing an extra pillow behind my head as he sits down on the edge of the bed.
“Now, I would like to examine your neck.”
“All right.”
“I’m going to place my fingers at the base of your jaw and then very slowly work them down. I would like you to tell me at what point you stop feeling my touch.”
“I will.”
I focus and feel his cool fingers along my skin as they ever so slowly shift down my neck.
“There. Right there.”
I dip my chin and see his fingers resting about two inches above my collarbone. My eyes fly to his. Immediately I see that whatever he’s thinking isn’t good. Since his first step into the room, the man has been smili
ng—his lips soft, friendly. Now they are turned down into a frown.
“W-what is it? You can fix me, can’t you?” I’m unable to stop my voice from rising to a near shriek.
“What’s wrong with me? Tell me this is temporary, please!”
His dark blue eyes behind his small spectacles express profound sorrow.
He breathes deeply before saying, “Cosette, it would be cruel to be less than honest with you. It is my opinion that due to your fall, you have sustained a severe injury to your neck that has most likely severed your spinal cord. It pains me greatly to tell you this, but there is nothing that can be done to repair the damage. I am so very sorry. Something like this should never happen to a smart, beautiful young woman such as yourself.”
He and his consoling words fade away as my eyes fill with tears that begins to stream down my face.
“Ah, there, there.” He uses his handkerchief to gently wipe the tears away.
“I will give my recommendations to your grandfather for your care. Cosette, try to be strong. I know that this is a lot for you to comprehend at the moment.”
Awash in a sea of self loathing and despair, I am barely aware of him packing up his bag. My choked sobs grow louder as he walks toward the door.
With one hand on the knob, he turns to face me. “Cosette, may I please ask what were you counting when I arrived?”
I stare at him and struggle to reply, “The fleurs-de-lis on the wallpaper.”
His wise eyes scan each wall of the large bedroom for a long moment, his face registering disbelief as I continue, “There are fourteen thousand eight hundred and sixty-one. I’ve counted them all. Eleven times now.”
His cheeks turn ashen as his gaze drops down to his shoes. Without another word he pulls the door open and disappears.
I want to die.
That night would be the longest of my life.
After listening to Dr. Harden deliver the news to my grandfather, I hear him weep, brokenhearted, until I am certain that I will go mad from the misfortune that I have brought upon our small family. Hours tick by until the house grows silent. A light breeze wafting in through my open balcony is the only relief from the stifling humidity that seems to hang ever-present, both day and night, from April well into October in the Deep South.
My thoughts finally slow down after the whirlwind of emotions that the final diagnosis set in motion. Heaven only knows what expense my grandfather went to in order to bring the doctor here from the north. As one of the only back specialists in the entire United States, he must charge a small fortune. A new wave of guilt begins to engulf me as I speculate what my care will cost him over the course of my useless life.
“Cosette.”
I gasp with astonishment at the arrival of a towering man and a petite woman who seem to have appeared from out of nowhere. They begin to move toward me with fluid grace from the dense shadows of my bedroom.
“Cosette, don’t be frightened, and for God’s sake, don’t scream.”
His low, crisp voice is terrifying in its eerie calmness as the duo makes their way around the side of my bed. I want to shout at them to get away but my terror has me utterly frozen. As they come closer I blink in shock as the single gas lamp reveals the identity of the male intruder.
Stunned, I whisper, “Impossible.”
Without hesitation and as if he expected my comment, the striking man says, “Very possible.”
“A-are you who I think you are? My … my uncle Severin?”
“Yes, Cosette, and I have waited a very long time to meet you.”
“But … I-I must be dead then.”
“No. Not at all. You are still very much alive, if you can call the state you’re in living.” His eyes tighten in blatant disapproval of my pitiful condition.
I choose my next words carefully. “Yes, as you can see, I’ve made some bad choices.” I continue to stare in awe. “I can’t believe how much you look like Mama. I’ve studied your painting, which hangs beside hers in the drawing room, countless times. You look just as you did the year you died in that sword fight long before I was born. How is that possible? Are you a ghost?”
“No, we are something far more dangerous than ghosts, Cosette. But there will be ample time to discuss that later. I would like you to meet Katerina, my maker. We are here to help you.”
Maker?
My eyes take in the exquisite redhead whose regal demeanor might be that of a queen. Her waist-length hair cascades over an icy lilac-hued velvet gown that is cut so dangerously low and tight that it’s a wonder her ample breasts don’t spill out. She reminds me of a woman I once admired in a Botticelli painting from a book that my father brought home from a business trip to Italy. Her beauty is completely mesmerizing, nearly luminous, but it’s her unusual topaz-colored eyes that shine with a heavy sorrow. This woman has seen countless tragedies that are forever stamped upon her soul. I can’t help staring, and only Severin’s deep voice pulls my attention away as he continues to speak.
“I’ve watched you from afar since you were a baby, Cosette. I’ve kept up to date with your impulsive, daredevil behavior, which has inevitably landed you in these dire straits. I’m here to make you a life altering offer, but I’ll warn you, Cosette, you would be wise to think carefully before you give us your answer.”
“An offer? What offer, Uncle?” My curiosity is piqued. If it has anything to do with reversing my condition, the answer is a resounding yes.
Arms fold across his strong chest as his blue eyes drill into mine. He says pointedly, “An offer of another life, a different one, where your wild spirit might just be the very thing that helps you survive.”
“I want it.” His final word has barely left his mouth as I clamor my acceptance. I’m desperate for any way out of the hell I’m trapped in.
Quickly, I add, “I accept your offer. Willingly. Anything is better than the barren existence that lies before me. Please, Uncle Severin, please help me.” The final three words emerge in a barely audible whisper.
His features are still and watchful. I’ve started to worry that I’ve offended him and that he’s thinking of retracting when he finally speaks. “That’s why I’m here, Cosette, to save you from yourself. It’s the least I can do to honor Sabine’s memory. But I refuse to have you turned until you know what you face.”
What does he mean by ‘turned’? I bite the inside of my cheek to quell the fear, not wanting to ruin everything by asking too many questions. I watch his alert blue eyes carefully as he continues on with his explanation.
“Assuming you follow both our leads and guidance, then you have the potential to live forever, Cosette. You could be immortal. However, as a consequence, you can have absolutely no contact with anyone who knows you as you are now. That is the past, and you will have to sever those ties for your safety and theirs.”
Could I really never see Annalin again? My fiancé already broke off the engagement, refusing to be burdened with a crippled wife. How could I ever walk away from my grandfather? Yet, if I refuse, he will be burdened with caring for me and eventually have to endure the heartache of putting me six feet under. No, a disappearance sounds less drawn out and in the long term easier on everyone. Maybe one day Severin will change his mind and allow me to see them.
Ever so slowly, I ask the imposing, impeccably dressed man the crucial question, “Could you make me walk again?”
“Yes, of course, Cosette, and much more than that. That is why we are here. I care for you deeply. You’re my beloved sister’s only child and ever since your accident I have wrestled with my intentions about having you turned. It took today’s final diagnosis of paralysis to convince me, however. You deserve to have the choice I was never given. I have no regrets of how I came to become what I am, and I’m bound and determined to make certain that you won’t have any, either. Cosette, tell me, what do you know of vampires?”
Dumbfounded, I can do nothing but repeat the word back to him like a trained parrot, “Vampires?”
<
br /> “Yes, that’s what I said. Have you heard the term before, Cosette?”
The redhead is on high alert as her chin drops. She watches me closely, and I can’t help but feel unnerved. Her presence is both eerie and intimidating.
“I have heard of vampires, but only from folklore as well as Heinrich August Ossenfelder’s haunting poem, ‘The Vampire.’ ”
“Then you have a basic sense of what we offer you.”
I have no choice. I’d consider a deal with the devil himself at this point, and from the sounds of it, this decision might be akin to that.
The words rush out, “I’ll take it. Do what needs to be done, Uncle Severin, I beg you. Just don’t leave me like this—a pitiful cripple. Heaven help me, but I was already plotting to take my own life. I know that is a mortal sin—”
He cuts me off, obviously in a hurry, “Then the decision is made. Listen closely. Katerina is going to have to bring you to the point of death in order to turn you. We have discussed it at length and feel that even though I am your blood relative, it is best for her to accomplish this. I have yet to turn another and her blood is undeniably stronger than my own. She is quite experienced; you shouldn’t be frightened.”
“I understand and I’m ready.” Deep down the fear of the unknown is fathomless but on the outside I remain unwavering. I’m not dense; I know that if I show the slightest hesitation they may retract their offer.
They exchange looks before the woman takes the single step toward my bed, lowering her body down beside me while simultaneously sliding one arm around my left shoulder. She lifts me effortlessly until our faces are inches apart.
Glittering eyes stare deeply into mine as she says in a feather light, siren’s voice, “Cosette, I’m going to drink from you until your heart slows to the point that you would perish if I left you. After that, I will slice my wrist and you will drink my blood. There will be sharp pain as my fangs pierce you—it’s unavoidable. I can’t run the risk of glamouring you because I need you completely lucid as you drink from me.”
I swallow hard and nod. My mind is spinning with anxiety and a heady dose of hope as I stare into the stunning face of an exquisite vampire who appears to be only a few years older than myself.
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