“I want you to explain to me who you are,” he said.
“First, tell me who you are,” I challenged him. I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but I didn’t care. I was probably dead anyway.
The vampire let out an angry sigh and got to his feet. He was breathtakingly handsome under the glow of the fluorescent light. His green eyes glowed brightly as specks of crimson flashed in them. His black hair hung loosely over his ears, a strand falling over the right side of his face. Even after he ran his hand through his hair, that one strand fell back down. He was lean, but muscular and stood over six feet tall. I was speechless. I’d never seen a man as beautiful as the monster standing in front of me.
“Larson Cardamone. Now tell me who you really are,” he demanded.
“Analey Rose.” It came out barely above a whisper as I stared in awe at him.
Larson approached the cell, wrapping his fingers around the bars and I stumbled backwards. “You are about 18 years old?” he asked.
“Yes,” I stammered.
“What year were you born?” Larson said as he retreated into the shadows.
“’97,” I answered moving towards the prison door; I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“1997?” Larson asked, his forehead furrowed.
I raised one eyebrow. “Well it wouldn’t be 1897,” I said, a snicker behind my answer.
Larson didn’t seem to find the humor in his question, and I could tell he was becoming annoyed with my answers.
“Who are you?” he roared loudly, his voice echoing through the empty basement.
I backed up away from the steel bars, feeling for the concrete wall behind me and pressed against it.
Why me? I wondered. I was just an orphan form West Havencrest who had moved to Shadowmist less than a year ago.
And now I’m being held prisoner by some sadistic vampire. I thought to myself.
“I’m not sadistic,” Larson hissed.
I looked at him, my brows knitted in confusion. “What do you want from me?” I whispered. My fear had returned.
“I want nothing to do with you. I only wish to carry out my father’s orders and his plans to end you.” Larson placed a porcelain bowl on the ground. It made a scraping sound as he slid it under the small opening of the prison door to me like I was some sort of animal. He gave me a hard glare then stormed out, leaving behind his wonderful scent.
I swallowed the emotional lump that had formed in my throat. I remembered Larson’s father, Aloes, from Mikel’s story, but couldn’t fathom why he intended to end my life. He was the valiant knight who had save the Aragon’s from dark magic. I looked to the plate of food, confusion clouding my thoughts.
I wanted to ignore the aroma of the hot meal in front of me, but my stomach growled. The scent of potato soup rose, tempting me. I took a taste and soon the bowl was empty. I’d also eaten the slice of bread that had been sitting on the plate. After I had devoured the meal, I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and inhaled. Larson’s scent was all around me and I was drowning in it. I wanted to be mad at him. I wanted to hate him. I threw the blanket off and shoved it, along with the pillow, through the prison bars.
I hate him. I thought to myself, but I didn’t wholly believe it. I allowed my emotions to drive me and soon I did feel some sort of animosity towards Larson.
Hours later, after I’d fallen asleep, I awoke with the cover over me again and a fresh plate of food next to me. Like before, I got rid of the blanket and this time I rejected the meal, throwing the plate out through the bars. I decided I didn’t want anything from the depraved vampire. I flung the spoon out and clutched my chest. The air in the basement was thin and was causing a constricted sensation around my heart. It wasn’t a terrible pain, just an unyielding pressure. I assumed it was the frigid room and oxygen levels could be low causing a panic attack to ensue. I did have legitimate reasons to have anxiety issues. With a rational explanation, I felt the grip loosen and my breathing became a bit effortless. But by the time night fell, I was growing restless and the panic returned. Aloes’ plan of breaking me was working, leaving me desperately hopeless.
“Let me out!” I shouted and weakly shook the bars. “Let me out!” I fell to the ground defeated. The cuts on my knees began to bleed again. I stretched my hand through the bars and pulled the blanket to me. I winced as I pressed it against the laceration to stop the bleeding. I’d been locked up for a couple of days and needed a change of clothes but that was the least of my problems. It would only be a matter of time before Aloes returned to kill me. I couldn’t fathom why I deserved to die at the hands of such a vile monster. I’d done nothing to warrant such hatred from him. As I deliberated the reasons behind his murderous intentions, I felt my eyelids getting heavy, weighing down with sleep. I forced myself to stay awake, in case Larson returned. I stood at the prison door, my fingers curled over the bars and leaned my head on the cold metal. I moved my hand down to the latch on the door. I squinted my eyes as I inspected the lock. The dim lighting of the basement made it difficult for me to make out what I was seeing. It resembled a padlock, but none I’d seen before. I assumed it wasn’t made in the present century. The lock, like the prison appeared medieval. It was a rusted orange color and worn around the edges. Through the mute illumination, I noticed that there was a metal bar that ran through the center. Once it was engaged, the bar fell across the length of the lock, securing the door in place. I speculated that if I could insert something into the narrow opening, I could keep the latch from interlinking with the steel rod, thus preventing it from snapping down and locking the door. I looked around inside and outside my jail cell. Dark silhouettes of boxes could be seen at the far back wall of the room, but the rest of the basement was empty. The bowl was still scattered in broken pieces just outside the metal bars where I had thrown it minutes after Larson had delivered it. He hadn’t been down to clean up the splattered meat and vegetables. The spoon was next to it, just out of my reach. I stretched my arm out until the metal bars pushed against my shoulder, but the tips of my fingers touched the cold cement floor and nothing else. I adjusted my position and tried again. I had inched closer but still couldn’t reach the spoon.
“Damn it,” I cursed aloud as I got to my feet. Inside the cell was the pillow that I’d been laying on earlier that day. “The pillow case,” I said.
I pulled the pillow out and tossed it aside. I took the red fabric and twisted it and flung it out between the bars. The spoon spun slowly as the pillow case grazed over it. I retracted it back in and tried again. The second time, the pillow case landed on top of the spoon and I slid it to me. I quickly snatched the spoon. It was a standard silver teaspoon and I was worried it would be too wide to fit in the slim opening. I pushed the back end and felt when it hit up against the metal bar. I wouldn’t be able to pick the lock. The ancient piece had been engineered to prevent it from being unlocked with anything other than the skeleton key specifically made for it. I would have to wedge a piece of the silver handle when the lock was open to keep it from securely locking, but Larson never unlocked the door while I was awake. He only entered when I was sleeping or passed everything through the bars. With tears welling up in my eyes, I pushed the spoon hard into the lock. The spoon handle bent, and the lock clicked open. I stared in disbelief at the latch.
“He didn’t push it all the way down,” I whispered to myself. Larson had carelessly failed to secure the lock and the spoon had forced it all the way open. I pushed the door open and cringed when the hinges creaked. I slipped out of the prison cell and rushed to the stairs leading up and out of the basement. I had escaped the cell only to be met by the heavy steel door that locked from the outside. I collapsed to the floor in obvious defeat. I put my face in my hands and sobbed. I had to find a way out or I would not survive; Aloes wouldn’t let me live and I didn’t want to die.
I was drying my tears when I heard another door in the distance opening. Larson had returned. I scrambled to my feet and hurried back down
the stairs, almost tumbling down the last two. I hoped I could get back behind the bars before he reached the basement, but I knew how fluidly he moved, and I doubted I would make it. I didn’t dare think about what he would do to me if he found I had tried to escape. I moved as fast as I could and flung myself in the cell. I carefully but quickly closed the door. My heart crashed in my chest as I tried to calm myself. I was moving to the back corner when I realized I’d forgotten to put the lock back on the door. I clambered to the door, picked up the lock and fumbled to return it to its place. I was back in the corner of the cell feigning to be asleep as Larson opened the steel door and descended the steps.
I kept my eyes shut as he cleaned up my mess and placed the blanket back over my body. I worried about the pillow, but he didn’t seem concerned that it was missing the pillow case. I felt him lift my head and place it under my head. As soon as he was gone and I was locked in again, I threw the blanket off and curled up on the cold cement floor.
twenty~ seven
The days began to pass without any distinction between day and night in the windowless basement. Several weeks had passed or at least I assumed it had been weeks, and I remained a prisoner behind the metal bars. There wasn’t anything for me to do except eat and sleep. I tried not to do much thinking or ruminating on what my life was or could be, but sometimes I did. I thought about Kami and Kian. I wondered if they noticed I was missing or if they were out looking for me. I thought about Mikel too. I came to terms with the fact that I’d acted immature and hasty with my actions to flee from him only to land in the possession of an even more dangerous vampire.
I had entered the Vanishing Woods and disappeared.
I opened my eyes on the unspecified day of my imprisonment, stretching my arms and legs. My aching muscles had recovered, and the cuts were healing.
How long had I been kept prisoner? I wondered. I shivered on the cold cement floor. There was no blanket and no food either.
“Good. Let me starve to death,” I said aloud to the deserted basement.
“You’re not going to starve to death,” Larson sneered.
I hadn’t noticed he was sitting in the shadows again. “What do you care what happens to me?” I muttered.
“I don’t,” Larson said.
“Good,” I said, irritation in my voice. I am being held prisoner by some lunatic, I thought sardonically.
“I am not insane.” Larson was suddenly inside the cell in front of me, the door wide open. I stepped back, my wide eyes staring at him stunned at how quickly he had opened the door and moved into the cell.
It wasn’t humanly possible. I thought.
“That’s because I’m not human. I’m a vampire,” Larson said apparently annoyed with me. “Now, if you promise not to throw any more food or break more of my fine china, I will move your accommodations upstairs,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes as I stepped around Larson.
He took a hold of my wrist and stopped me. “Don’t even think about trying anything like you did with the lock.” He glared directly at me as he waited for me to respond that I understood.
I did and I took his threat seriously, but when I opened my mouth to say that I understood, no words came out. I nodded my head as I realized how foolish I’d been, thinking he wouldn’t find out about my attempted escape. He continued to stare into my eyes for another 10 long seconds before turning and walking up the stairs. With my heart racing and my nerves on the edge of another panic attack, I followed him out of the basement and into the house. The air was much warmer outside of the basement and a chill ran through my body as my flesh thawed. Larson silently led me through a wide corridor, up a curving mahogany staircase, down a long hallway and into a bedroom. There was a bed, a chair, and a small dresser in the room. The room had a small bathroom and closet.
“You need a shower.” Larson handed me some clothes and pointed to the bathroom. I snatched the clothes and headed to the shower.
I turned around as I heard Larson lock the bedroom door. I engaged the lock from the inside and stomped into the bathroom. I was apparently still being held prisoner, just in a more humane cell.
Showered and dressed in clean clothes, I sat on the edge of the bed with my wet hair hanging down around my face. I had no brush or other hair products, so I didn’t bother with it. I was grateful to be out of the cold basement, but I assumed I was still in danger.
Larson tapped on the door. “You settled in?”
“Leave me alone,” I said harshly.
Larson growled and knocked on the door again.
“Go away,” I shouted.
“Open the door. I will break it down, Analey,” he said hitting his fist against it.
“Go away,” I repeated.
“No,” Larson grumbled.
“I said go away.” I stood and shouted.
“And I said no.” Larson’s voice boomed through the house.
I knew I shouldn’t provoke him, but I was angry. I yelled at him to get lost and kicked the door. I heard his low growl and within seconds, the door was ripped open and Larson stood in the doorway.
I rushed to the opposite wall; my fearless confidence gone. My chest tightened as I stared at him. I couldn’t understand how this dangerous vampire could stand there looking so perfect, yet so deadly. He didn’t move; he just stood there, glaring at me. I knew he wanted to kill me, but his father had given orders not to until he returned, yet I feared he would lose control and do it. Larson clenched his fists at his side, turning his knuckles even whiter than his already pale skin.
“Call Mikel. His number is in the contacts,” he said tossing a cell phone on the bed and vanished from my sight. I stared at the spot where Larson had stood. His movements were swift giving the impression of magically appearing and disappearing. I moved my gaze to the phone, but I didn’t call Mikel. I had no explanation as to why I let the opportunity of being rescued pass, but I left the phone untouched on the bed. I looked at the door that now stood open and contemplated leaving the room. But fear rendered me motionless and kept me trapped in the unlocked room. I collapsed on the bed and closed my eyes, letting my thoughts drift to Larson. I thought of every detail of his flawless face. His eyes were chips of emerald ice, like the passionate green the sea turns during a storm. His lips were bowlike in shape with the perfect fullness and a hint of reddish tint.
A soft chuckle roused me from my inappropriate daydreams. I sat up embarrassed and saw Larson standing in the doorway. He entered the room and I sat up rigid and tense.
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
“You’re not?” I asked but I didn’t relax.
Larson shook his head. There is so much I can’t explain, but what I do know is that plans have changed as have my dispositions.”
“Oh well that makes me feel better.” I mocked. I didn’t know where my brave sarcasm came from, but I didn’t hold back.
“I brought you here for my father, Aloes.” Larson inched closer to me and as he did, I held my breath.
“He is the one who wants to end me,” I said using Larson’s exact words.
A wave of sorrow washed over his face. “Yes.”
“Why? What did I do to him?” I asked.
“It’s not what you’ve done, but what is predicted you will do,” he said.
“I don’t follow. Predicted? By whom?” I’d never met Aloes and had no reason to want to do anything to him. Aside from that, Aloes was a vampire and I was just a human.
“It’s a long story, but things are a bit more complicated now.” Larson’s eyes held mine.
I had no idea what this vampire was talking about. I wondered what the complications could be. I stood and faced him. He moved closer and lightly caressed my face with his fingertips. His touch was cold, and goosebumps rose on my arms.
“Why didn’t you call Mikel?” Larson asked.
“I guess I still feel betrayed by him,” I confessed.
“
Betrayed because he couldn’t tell you the truth.” It was more a statement than a question. “Mikel was always a bit of a coward.”
“And you? You would tell me the truth?” I asked.
Larson shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure I would have a choice.”
“What does that even mean?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
Larson raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve spent the last few days making some calls, gathering information and well, there is much to this situation I have yet to understand but there is something transcendental connecting you and I.”
“A supernatural force connecting us?” I clutched my chest.
Larson nodded. “You feel it as well,” he said.
“I thought it was the air in the basement,” I said.
Larson smiled and it was the first time I’d seen him do it. His smile was transcendental. “You’re free to move around the house, but please don’t leave on your own. It isn’t safe. You can have Mikel come get you, but you mustn’t leave on your own.” Larson turned and walked out the door.
I descended the stairs once Larson was gone and walked into the formal living room. There were two large brown leather sofas facing each other, flanked by two oversized chairs and a massive stone fireplace. I walked around the large room, my footsteps falling silently on the wood floors, observing everything there was to see.
Expensive paintings hung on the walls and sculptures adorned every corner of the room. I felt as if I was standing in an art gallery, not some vampire’s house. I returned to the fireplace and sat down on the couch, sinking into it, as I heard footsteps approaching.
“Here are some more clean clothes for you to use if you choose to stay here with me,” he said handing me a pile of neatly folded jeans, shirts, and a few sweaters. “Do you prefer I phone Mikel to retrieve you?”
I took the clothes and shook my head. “No, I’d prefer to stay here,” I said without thinking. Once the words were out, I knew I should have taken his offer of having Mikel come for me.
Edge of Forever: The Death and Life of Analey Rose (The Immortal Souls Book 1) Page 20