“If he ever finds out the truth, or has even the vaguest notion that you are trying to deceive him, he will not hesitate to do this to you as well.” Teresa pointed to her face. “Or maybe even something worse,” she added shakily. “And I assure you that if he does turn his wrath upon you, your body will not heal as mine does! You will be scarred for the rest of whatever life he might grant you!” I detected the bitterness in her words.
“But I am not deceiving him, Teresa. Why would you even suggest such a thing?” I tried to make my voice sound innocent. I needed to be wary of her possible trickery, especially considering some of the recent events.
Teresa scrutinized me intently. “Well then, as you wish.” She shrugged. “But don’t say I did not try to warn you. He will discover your game one day; he probably already has. If not, it will only take one little slip on your part, and then—poof! You should realize that he is just using you until your usefulness is over. Have you thought of that, Virginia? I am sure you have; you are a smart woman. I recommend that you constantly be on your guard. I would hate to see such a lovely face as yours scarred beyond recognition. As I said, my scars will disappear—part of what I am. Yours will not, and I assure you, you will never be one of us!”
Teresa’s lip curled maliciously. She reached her hand up and ran a finger down my cheek. Her nail dug into my flesh, just enough to sting slightly but not enough to draw blood. “And who would look after the child then, should something unfortunate happen to you before he is weaned?”
The pathetic expression that had clouded Teresa’s face when she had entered my room had been replaced by a new manifestation. It began to creep slowly into her eyes. It was the same guise that I had observed the night I had given birth to my son. It was a look that reeked with hatred. It was a look that made me glad I had recovered my guard before allowing it to fall away completely. How could I have thought, even for a moment, that we could be just two ordinary women in need of each other’s support?
“Nothing bad is going to befall me,” I stated, looking Teresa squarely in the eyes. “I am not trying to deceive anyone; therefore, I have nothing to fear, do I? Is there anything else you would like to enlighten me on, Teresa, before you depart?”
Teresa was quick to answer: “Yes. Yes, there is. Actually, the reason I came here tonight was to offer you your freedom; however, it appears to me that you do not desire that anymore.”
What was Teresa up to? This was a substantial change of tactic. I was going to have to be extremely careful of what I said next; Teresa could be laying a death trap for me. She would probably like nothing better than to see me as battered as she was at the moment, especially after what she had witnessed at my door last night. It was her turn, I guessed, to deal the hand of cards. It was for me to decide whether or not to pick them up and call her bluff!
“What do you mean ... you came here to offer me my freedom? Why would you want to help me—that is, if I were to decide I wanted the help you are offering?”
“You have never made any pretence about wanting to escape from here. I am even aware of your most recent attempt at freedom. I also know how you cajoled Max into silence; you knew he would not breathe a word once he discovered it was I who forgot to lock your door! So I came to you with open arms and an open heart. My only desire was to help you escape from this place before he decides your time is up. Of two facts you can be sure: one, I will always be his queen; two, your time here will end, despite what the count has done here to me.”
She pointed to her wounds, which were already healing. Were the wounds freshly inflicted just before she came to me? Was it really the count who had struck her, or had she beaten herself in order to gain my sympathy and trust—to play on my emotions? Or was Teresa in collaboration with one of the others, in order to entrap me in her web and expose my true intentions to the count?
“I am his wife. I am his chosen one. I am one with him, for now and eternity. Once the child is weaned, the Count Basarab Musat will have no further use for you. He will gather his son to his bosom, direct him into our fold, and then cast you aside like a piece of garbage. Need I remind you again, he has no heart? Surely you realize that fact by now? Also, need I remind you that he is the most powerful of our kind, that he is our leader? He has no time for games and no patience for those who play them—especially at his expense!”
I rose from my chair, wondering just how real this offer of freedom was. After all, she was the same as him, just not as powerful. “Why would you care what happens to me? What is it that you are worried about, Teresa? Is it that you are afraid of me? Afraid of what I might be able to offer the count? I could give him more sons. Does he want more than one son, Teresa? Is that what you fear—that eventually he will tire of you and turn to the woman who is able to bear him children?” I paused. “I saw how jealous you used to be when he would spend hours talking to me, leaving you alone in the evenings,” I added as another dig at her.
I leaned on the table and studied her face. “Yes! That is it, isn’t it? You are afraid of me! It is you Basarab is casting aside! I am not the one who has anything to lose or to fear here—you are! So why should I want to leave? Besides, can you give me one convincing reason why I should trust you after what transpired last evening?” I threw my ace on the table.
“You are most mistaken in your perception of how things are, Virginia. Your life is in far greater jeopardy than you can imagine. Think hard. Remember that you only bore the child for him. I am the one who sleeps with him in the day, cradled in his arms in the earth of our forefathers. I am the one who sits at his table, as his wife. It matters not that he conversed with you—that was just to pass some idle time away. I am the one who is on his arm when he goes out into society. And I will be the one who will raise his son! You are not one of us, and as I said before, you never will be! Be assured that I shall make sure of that!”
Teresa was putting all of her aces on the table! “Do not be foolish enough to think I have no power to wield within this household! I could, right this moment, take you, should it please me to do so. I could make your life, or should I say death, into aimless wanderings for eternity. You would never be able to rest. You would never be able to satisfy your lust for nourishment. You would never totally be one of us because I would never allow you that liberation!” Teresa spewed out at me. “And in the end, should I decide it is time to end your suffering, one of the hunters would track you down and send you to your grave!”
“Just as the Count Basarab Musat did to your mother, Lilly? Is that what you would do to me?” I was hoping to strike a chord of contempt toward the count, the man who had snatched her mother from her at too young an age. However her next statement shattered that hope.
“Even to that extent,” she returned, without a trace of emotion. “Therefore, I suggest you do not allow blind stupidity to overpower your common sense! If you think that dangling some semblance of my mother’s plight in front of me will soften my position, you are mistaken. She meant nothing to me. The only memories I have of her are what my father tells me.
“There are times when I think he made up most of those nice stories to try to get me to love her as much as he did. Actually, I have nothing but contempt for her. If she had not been so weak, grovelling before the count as she did, then my father would not have had to make the bargain he did. She is responsible for us being damned into this dark world. He is the one who loved her too much, not I!
“As I mentioned earlier, you appear to be an intelligent woman, a fact you have demonstrated on a number of occasions. Don’t think for one minute that I was ever far away when my husband spent his time with you. I strongly recommend you take my offer, Virginia. Leave this place while there is still time, while I am still in the generous mood you find me in tonight!” Teresa’s voice was rising to a hysterical pitch.
She stood up. Her body was stiff as she marched toward the door. “Think about what I have said. Accept my offer before it is too late. At least you will have your lif
e; this is the gift I offer to you for having given my husband and me a child. If you remain here, there is only one possible outcome for you—death, in one form or another!”
With that final pronouncement Teresa was gone, slamming my door on her departure. The room shook from the vibration. I shook from the impact of her words.
I had little time to gather my thoughts before the baby began fussing. I went to him and peered into the cradle. He was so striking, every feature so perfect. One would never guess that his roots reached deep into a world of darkness. I gathered him into my arms. I wondered: If Teresa cared so much for the child, why she had not even bothered to look at him or ask about him when she was there? Come to think of it, Teresa never actually spent much time with the baby.
What was I to do? If I accepted Teresa’s offer, I would be leaving a piece of me behind. If I were to stay, I would be taking a chance that Max and Teresa’s warnings of my fate would come true. Then again, Teresa could be setting a trap. If that were the case, then all my carefully laid plans would be thwarted by her deceit. The baby nuzzled my breast.
“Yes, yes, little one. You are hungry, I know. Mama will feed you. Your mama will feed you.”
I settled myself against the pillows on my bed and put the child to suckle. The flow of blood had ceased to bother me; I had learned to accept it, or maybe it was just that I had learned to ignore the sight of it. He pulled greedily at the nipple, waiting impatiently for his reward to let down. Soon, all I could hear was the sucking sound of a satisfied child. This was the scene that greeted the Count Basarab Musat when he entered my room—the picture of motherhood at its loveliest!
“A charming vision to feast my eyes upon, Virginia,” he stated, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His fingers played with the red lace at the bottom of my nightgown. He gazed into my eyes: “When will you be ready for me, my dear Virginia?”
The count’s question startled me. I had totally forgotten my parting comments to him the previous night. “What do you mean, Basarab?”
“In the hallway last night, you suggested to me that I soon would be able to delight in the pleasures of your body again. As I understand, from you of course, I have possession of your heart already—correct?” He smiled. I caught a glimpse of the fangs—the constant reminder of the evil I was faced with.
The count wore a white shirt with a wide lace ruffle that fell in tiny waves on each side of the button lines. The buttons had been left undone, allowing a narrow strip of his body, from the neck to the waist, to tantalize my womanly urges. I raised my foot and began to massage his chest with my toes. He gently gathered my foot into his hands, kissing it lightly, following a line from toe tip to the end of my heel, sending shivers racing through my body. The baby at my breast was momentarily forgotten.
“Do you doubt me, my beloved Basarab?” I managed to whisper. “My soul is yours. It was linked to yours the day I discovered our baby grew inside my womb. I love you, and I love the child we conceived together. As for my body, it is yours on the night that we name our son. Come to me then, and I shall be ready to receive you once again! I shall be ready to receive another son of yours into my womb if that be your desire as well.” I smiled at him seductively. I knew that was a bit soon to be intimate after giving birth, but I had to get my cards on the table, before it was too late for me. “By the way, have you thought of a name for our son yet?” I added.
“As a matter of fact, yes. My father has chosen the name. The child will be called Santan Basarab Atilla Musat. Do you approve?” The count set my foot down on the bed.
I wondered if my approval actually mattered. Probably not. Santan. The sound of it was much too satanic for my liking, but I dared not anger the count by saying such a thing. It would be much wiser to agree.
“Santan ... Basarab ... Atilla ... Musat.” I allowed the name to roll off my tongue. I shifted the baby to my other breast. He latched on easily and resumed his feeding, making his familiar little grunting sounds. “Hello, little Santan,” I cooed at him. I looked up at the count. “Santan—yes, that will be just fine,” I managed to smile, even though just saying the name had almost choked me.
“Good, it is settled then. I am so glad you are pleased. My father will also be happy you approve. He has taken quite a liking to you since your first meeting. He has also requested that I make sure you join us for supper tonight. Are you able?”
“Of course,” I answered. “I would love to join the family.” I stressed the word family.
“Excellent.” The count raised my free hand to his lips and brushed it with a kiss. “I shall see you at supper, then. Max will see that the child is taken care of during your absence,” he mentioned before he departed.
I was alone with the child. His child? My child? Teresa’s child? I looked down on the curly black hair of my son; his eyes were closed in peaceful contentment. Not a semblance of evil lined his countenance. Every few seconds he would pacify on the breast, but sleep finally laid its claim on him. I pulled Santan’s mouth gently off the nipple and then laid him in his cradle. I crawled back under my covers, stretched out my weariness on the bed, and closed my eyes to rest for a few moments.
I dreamed. Oh, so sweet was the dream. The Count Basarab Musat smiled lovingly at me. His hands caressed me softly, awakening my blood. I arched upward to greet him, opening my body to him, writhing, beckoning for him to enter! However, as usually happened in my dreams, terror tore into my world, shattering the ecstasy. It was no longer his face leaning over me—it was Teresa’s. She was chanting: “You should have taken my offer; you should have taken my offer!” over and over again.
The Upset
Chapter Twenty-one
That evening I prepared myself with meticulous care. Tonight I hoped to look better than ever before. I would make sure Teresa was a mere dying flicker in the brilliance I would cast in the dining room upon my entrance.
I went to the closet, selected a red velvet gown, and slipped it on over my head. I could feel the cool, silky softness of the lining as it slithered over my skin. The neckline plunged in a deep V, exposing my maternal bosom. Below the V, the material gathered in pleats, then fell in ruby ripples to sweep the floor with its hem. The sleeves were crocheted with a fine, red silk thread, and intertwining through the patterns were slivers of shimmering silver. They draped freely around my arms, cascading from my shoulders like a swirling skirt.
I brushed my hair till it shone. I noticed how it shimmered against the dress as it flowed through the bristles of my brush, coming softly to its resting place on the red material.
I rubbed my cheeks to attain a rosy colour. Of course, there was no way of seeing how I really looked, since I was without the luxury of a mirror, but a little voice inside of me kept saying, “You are one stunning lady, Miss Virginia, one stunning lady, indeed!”
The baby was sleeping peacefully when I left the room. I knew it would not be long before Max came to check on him. Eat your heart out, Teresa; I am on my way. Tonight we shall see who the reigning queen is in the house of Count Basarab Musat!
As I entered the dining room, everyone turned. Surprised gasps began to break the silence that had temporarily held the gathering. I knew my little inner voice had hit the nail squarely on the head. I hesitated in the doorway, a moment longer than necessary, to allow my beauty to have its full impact. I wanted—no, I needed—every one of them to admire me, to be obsessed with me. To attain my victory, I had to influence those who seemed to mean so much to the count, especially his father. It was quite obvious to me that the count loved him deeply.
The count’s father was first to speak. He walked to me and offered his arm. “Come, my dear; I will seat you. You shall sit here to my son’s right and across from me so that I might gaze upon your beauty. Basarab has told me a great deal about you, but I would like to get to know you better for myself.” Count Atilla smiled pleasantly. I took note of the fact that the count had spoken of me to his father. Another win on my side of the table?
I nodded graciously to the count’s cousins, to his uncle, and to the doctor. I turned to the countess Emelia: “Dearest Aunt Emelia ...” I paused. “I may call you aunt, I hope?” I asked in a sugary voice. It was a bold request and a challenge.
Emelia appeared startled, and she hesitated, but only fleetingly. “Yes, dear,” she replied. “Go right ahead. Aunt Emelia will be fine.”
“Thank you.” I breathed a sigh of relief. My stomach felt agitated. I could still hear Teresa’s words clearly in my mind: You are not one of us! You will never be one of us! I shall make sure of that! I gazed around me and wondered just how genuine the smiles and admiring looks from those at the table were.
“Dear Aunt Emelia,” I went on, “I trust you are having a pleasant holiday? I would like to learn more about your homeland since that is where the forefathers of my son were born. I would love for you to come to my room some evening—at your convenience, of course,” I added hastily, “and tell me some stories, maybe even one or two about the count when he was a little boy?” I smiled mischievously.
“After all,” I continued, a hint of laughter gurgling in my throat, “sons do often follow in their father’s footsteps. I would like to know what I may expect in the future.” I spoke as though I would be around forever for my child.
I had often wondered if Count Basarab Musat had ever been a child, in the true sense of the word. The journal had stopped when he was three, but the last entry, of his farewell to his aunt as they left the cave, had not portrayed the mindset of a typical three-year-old. The details of the rest of his youth were absent. I desired to know more about him. I returned my attention to the present moment.
Night's Gift: Book One of the Night's Vampire Trilogy Page 22