“Your Professor?” Zarlach asked after some time—I heard the confusion in his voice plain as day.
“Yes, my Professor.” I repeated as I sighed in frustration. “I hope this isn’t going to stain, it will ruin the carpet.” I said eyeing the brown smeared puddle beneath the grey blue sofa. Zarlach yanked the cloth out of my hand and stretched it over my mess.
“It’s their problem now.” he said and pulled me to my feet and over to the kitchen counter. “But this time. I’ll keep you away from the windows or anything with reflective glass until you’ve grounded yourself.”
I felt guilty for not drinking the cup of chocolate he made and asked, “Could you make me another. I promise to drink it and not spill it this time.” Zarlach smiled and nodded.
“Sounds good but you’ll stay at the counter.”
“Why? I’m not two.” I defended.
“No but you are clumsy.”—he walked across the large kitchen and towards the cupboards lining the back—“Your parents were never like that so where did you inherit that trait from?” he asked as he searched the wooden panelled cupboards and pulled out the ingredients before boiling the kettle. “Care to explain.”
I rolled my eyes, “I’m not clumsy.” I defended the third time that day.
“Okay so then you’ve got two left feet.” Really? I wondered and my thought must have moulded my features because he was quick to hold up his hands. He moved around the marble island and sat beside me on a white stool that lined one side of the counter.
“That’s just rephrasing your point of me being clumsy.” I said with a smile of my own, feeling the stress of the day beginning to ease off. He picked up a chocolate chip from a plate I never noticed was there and offered me some. I willingly took one knowing that something between my fingers would stop them from shaking. That was worse than those voices, I thought. Maybe I really am losing it.
“Anyway, what makes you think your Professor would waste his time standing outside a window that I might add is three stories high.” he said crunching on a cookie.
The kettle boiled and he stood up. I eluded and asked, “Why are you using a kettle? I’m sure there’s a coffee machine or something that makes hot chocolate instead.” He pulled out two new clean glasses, after he washed and rinsed mine in the sink.
“Simple,”—he began as he with a teaspoon placed the powered drink into each cup—“I don’t know how to work it.” I found that both believable and hard to believe.
I giggled, “You really don’t know how to work a coffee machine?”
“Hey, there’re a lot of things I don’t know how to do but those things are things I can do with a different method.”
“Like making hot chocolate.” I smiled.
“Exactly, like making hot chocolate.” he laughed a little before his face became serious and he handed me my new cup of hot chocolate that I was surprised took so long but wouldn’t voice it out loud, I was lucky to be getting any, I quickly recalled. “You’re avoiding the question.”
I was silent for a few moments and sighed, defeated, “Before I met you, I went to Mortem Academy.”
“I know.” That caught my attention.
“How did you know?” I asked, watching him meander around the island before setting himself into a seat beside me.
“You, were wearing a school uniform of the only academic institute in the area.”
“Oh.” I said, feeling a little silly.
“Yeah, oh.” he mimicked, sipping his hot chocolate, I figured that was my prompt to continue.
“Well anyway, I went to that school for three months but never in that time did I not realise they were . . . not human. I had no idea and when a thought did occur, I brushed it off as my imagination. Now that I think about it, I recall they avoided the sun and their skin was pale and slightly colder than normal but not like ice. Even Viktor seemed . . .”—taking a deep breath I continued—“I disregarded all of their strange behaviour and athletic abilities and beauty as something to be normal because to them it did seem normal, they acted normal. Now I see there was nothing but normal about them.
“But earlier today, I couldn’t sleep so instead, I went to the study hall and picked out a random book only to see Viktor there. He acted strange too and was somehow able to smell the salt in the air but I pushed it aside and thought nothing of it. However, when we were on our way to the Headmaster’s office, he was distant as if he found something out—as if he found out—what I was. Then, I was attacked, by my favourite teacher,”—I noticed I was gasping and on the verge of crying—”everyone in the room looked at me like a piece of meat and his fangs, my professor had fangs. I trusted him and he . . .” I sobbed and felt Zarlach pat my hair. His voice was gruff once again in my ear.
“Shh, it’s okay, you’re safe now.” I continued to cry into his chest probably looking like a baby. Though, how could I not? That which I read in novels turned out to be something very real. No matter which way or what angle I tried to dissemble the situation from, no reason for their existence was explained so I came up short. It was as if there was no explanation other than legends and myths for an answer.
After I had settled down—he continued to cradle me—gently like damaged china. “And that’s why you came knocking at my door.” he said after what felt like eons of silence. I nodded against his chest, “They were never going to hurt you, Cecelia.”
I shot a glare at him, “How would you know?”
“Because, I know someone else will and that’s the one I’m bound to protect you from. Even if . . .” he trailed off staring into the heath beneath the large plasma screen television that spanned across the baby yellow brick wall.
“What do you mean?” I asked, peeking up at him, a little curious. He moulded a sad smile.
“You have no idea how sheltered your life was before your professor’s outburst. I told your parents this would happen but they didn’t listen. They said you would be safer surrounded by the others and far from a heavily populated area, that way they could keep an eye on you but you unchanged . . . I knew would cause problems.” I pulled away from him and my glare weakened.
“From who?” I asked, afraid.
“Not from who but what. And that, little Rusakova, is something your parents have to explain to you when they arrive.” The troubled look he gave me was something I never thought, I would ever see. It was smiles and only smiles that mattered to me. And it was the only human expression I was ever surrounded by. So that look was new to me, as it was borderline pity. It annoyed me more than anything and that was something I’d firmly stand by. “Don’t.” I warned.
From sadness to confusion his expression turned, “Don’t what?” he asked, daring to be innocent.
“Don’t. . . give me that look. Don’t look at me like I’m the saddest thing in existence. “I spat keeping my eyes on him as I lightly pushed away from his chest, still caged in his arms. “I may not know what you do but at the same time, I don’t care because . . . I was happy. Maybe naïve but happy. And everyone else was as well and that’s all that matters to me in the end.”
SEVEN
Recollections
I continued, “My mother and father always smiled and because of that, I never felt like I lost or missed out on anything this world could possibly offer.”—images of my laughing ever radiant mother graced my vision within the careful arms of my father—“So think what you want, say what you want but growing up was like perfect fairy tale and that’s more than some people get these days.”
His expression blanked, “But don’t you find it strange at all? Your life being so perfect, you probably got what you wanted more often than not. I mean even your parents put up with that Ryan fellow.” Zarlach uttered, keeping his gaze locked with mine, as he removed his hands.
“How do you know about Ryan?” I glared and he turned back to the bench.
“I know that your parents did nothing but complain to me over the phone, about how it was killing them to you their on
ly and precious daughter with him.” he teased with a sigh, before taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “That’s one of the reasons why your parents enrolled you into Mortem Academy. They were deathly afraid you would one day up and run off to get married.” The moment those words left his mouth, my mind began to race. I knew I shouldn’t be concerned because we have nothing to do with one another anymore but for my parents to take me away from him—purposely—did rub me the wrong way.
They were my parents—sure.
But they shouldn’t have done that! I thought they would respect my decisions and trust my judgement but apparently that wasn’t the case! So stupidly I said, “So what if I did, it’s my choice.” I crossed my arms and turned back to my untouched mug, feeling annoyed I was having this conversation with him. I felt his body stiffen and freeze in place—I didn’t dare peek. I wanted to keep what upper hand I had in this moment.
“Cecelia, at your age, no one would approve of the marriage.” Zarlach spoke, informatively.
“Why not?” I pressed. “They would have hundreds of years ago.”
“Yeah, during the time when women died giving birth. Then it was a necessity—the younger the better.” he spoke and I felt him shift to taste his warm beverage once again. “Also, this is modern society. Laws and legislations have been put in place to protect you. So what if your parents did a few things to keep you just the way you are. I’m sure most parents—well good parents—would do the same thing.”
I scoffed—a very unladylike manner my father would have scolded me for.
“Yes they would.” A familiar male voice graced the room and I glanced up. There in the doorway stood my parents, cladded in black. Their pale features shone under the white ceiling lights.
“Dad?” I asked, happy but confused. They were supposed to arrive the day after tomorrow.
“Zarlach!” my mother scolded. “You promised!”
“Come now, Natasha. I haven’t said much.” he shrugged and I glared at the man beside me who seemed unmoved by my attempt at intimidation.
“Saying not enough, is the same as more than enough.” My mother pounced. Her teeth seemed to grind behind her full blood red lips. Her dark eyes staked Zarlach and I perceived my father’s reaction as he placed his arm before my mother. It was a silent gesture that stopped her from moving forward. But why? Mother wouldn’t hurt Zarlach? Would she? “You could have destroyed . . .” my mother began and I gasped as the pieces came together—everyone’s eyes locked onto me.
“Maybe you just need time,” Bella had said.
“You mean you haven’t changed?” I recalled Viktor question.
“Why is Princess Cecelia human and why haven’t they turned her back?” asked a stranger’s voice.
All their voices stumbled in my mind and I pushed myself from the stool and stepped away from the bench. Their faces, their voices, their actions and their body language said it all—they knew—they were hiding something just as quick as the others. Zarlach’s voice entered my mind, “Don’t you find it strange, your life being so perfect?” My head throbbed as I tried to force a connection between that voice and that face as a part of me knew it well.
“I’m quite thirsty my dear . . . Princess Cecelia.” The same ominous voice whispered and the image of his pale face shrouded in darkness, splashed behind my closed eyes. “You can’t keep her from me!” that same voice screamed.
“Cecelia honey, I’m going to suppress your memories and your Vampieruz heritage.” My soft mother’s voice rang. The image of Zarlach and my father walking towards me over the pale blanket of snow. There were screams, fires and blood and sound of screams were so strong, my head began to whirl and my footing became unsure. I never realised I was falling until steel arms reached out to catch me, just barely, I made out my parents’ blackened figures and Zarlach’s blood red leather jacket as he hovered over me. Zarlach, it was him, who caught me. I easily identified in my current state. Their faces were hazy and their voices muffled.
“They won’t go away.” I barely whispered. “Make the voices go away.” I desperately breathed as pain ripped through my very essence. Not before long, my eyes sealed shut in agonising pain, darkness engulfed me strongly with the scent of sweet blood.
*.*.*
Russia 2040,
The sun shone, over the white winter snow. As the once green fir trees were sprinkled in white, as I wandered this plane. This was my heaven, my domain. I smiled at the sight as my gloved hand gripped onto another. I glanced up, my mother stared down at me, as young as I was. I never knew the dangers that would face me. “Mother, is Zarlach coming too?” I asked, my tone soft and sweet but innocent in so many ways.
“Of course sweetheart,” My mother’s soft vibrant voice, sang throughout the clearing.
“My lady,” I heard a male voice from behind, peeking over my shoulder, a man in a brown trench coat kneeled. “He has been sighted east of the perimeter.” I felt my mother stiffen beside me and even though I didn’t know much then, I knew the dangers of it as my mother gripped my hand with her lovely lips pressed into a thin line. She was worried and that worried me but I aimed to keep my promise.
“Where is my husband?” Mother demanded.
“His majesty is with Lord Sivortsova,” commented the man who continued to kneel keeping his eyes locked on the ground. “Guarding the east.” Looking back up at my mother again, I saw her thoughts conflict over her features and the potential decisions she had to make. Being only a child, I had nothing I could offer to my mother other than wrap my free hand over her thighs. This action caused a smile to slip across my mother’s lips as she peered down at me, once more.
“Don’t worry, mother. Everything will be okay,” I hoped, not knowing I was wrong.
Crunch! My eyes darted to the sound and I took in the sight of a tall man. His dark hair fell to the nape of his neck and over the bridge of his nose. He stumbled towards us hauntingly and my mother locked me behind her. “What do you want with her?” yelled my mother.
The man laughed and I cowered. As I knew he was dangerous. I didn’t know how but many more men like the one that kneeled before my mother sprung out of nowhere and attacked the man. Many attacks were avoided and many defenders were stricken down with a single blow while others were killed, instantly. The ones that didn’t die immediately, he used to quench his thirst. Wiping the blood from his mouth he spoke, “Simple Queen Natasha. The Dark Cartel wishes to see the end of the United Council and its union between all things Resoncretalians and Cretalians. It’s simply business but I will drain her dry, of the powers she possesses, they will be mine.”
“Over my dead body will you touch her!” mother shrieked, bravely, “And you will not succeed the other descendants will be protected until they mature. That is our purpose. As will Cecelia.” The sight of blood on his features and on the snow glowed a warmer hue as a flame flickered in his right hand above a majic Faction. His eyes watched me with amusement and he licked his lips. The blood made me scared not thirsty I knew that much and watched as he set the dead bodies on fire. “Look away Cecelia,” I remembered my mother whisper.
The sound of a sonic boom occurred, a sound I recognised, it was my mother and her shifter majic. I remembered when mother used it, a steel door was riddled with a perfectly even Faction at any size and the scariest or coolest part was, you would never see it coming—you could only tell it was released by the energetic Faction at her fingertips.
When it echoed again and again, I knew that man wasn’t dead yet and I knew my mother was growing impatient. “This is fun Natasha! We should do this more often!” the man growled.
I felt my mother push me back and I landed on the snow. It was like falling on a pillow and I saw a flash of black specs clashing, the sound of steel and claws echoed around the area and I crawled away from the noise. I didn’t know how long it lasted but the man fell onto the ground and my mother landed with ease. Blood stained the front of her black coat and I knew it wasn’t hers, it was his
and he laid unmoving on the ground as my mother watched. Tucking away the silver weapon she turned to me, “Come Cecelia. We have to move quickly.”
My mother tugged me to my feet and yanked me away. “But isn’t he dead mother?”
“No he’s not. He’s alive but advanced,” she spoke.
*.*.*
Present,
The tension in my body never ceased to ease. Even as many more memories of being attacked flooded my mind and with every battle my parents grew more and more concerned. Zarlach and everyone else of the vampiere world—or rather Vampieruz world—were soon suppressed from my memory. So I grew up in my idol form, my human form, as my parents lived in theirs. It was the only way—the last resort. The best alternative to ensure my survival, the only descendent of the Rusakova bloodline, an ancient line that dated back to when the Nefaliem were first born. I recalled the stories my parents told me of Licanthropes, Sirens, Casters and many more but in the end I knew they weren’t stories—they were real they were a part of the world I knew I would face when old enough to rule. The next generation was always stronger than the previous—thus more advanced. My eyes fluttered open and I watched as my parents stood on their feet, alert. “Please! Stay while I fight!” I heard Zarlach plead.
“No.” my father spoke, his voice grave. “He’s come again for her, he’s my problem. I’ll face it alone. Natasha . . .”
“Not happening, I’m staying with you and fighting beside you, we’re stronger together and you know it.” I felt the person that hovered above me shift. Not before long, I eyed the blurry features of my mother as her lips pressed against my forehead. “I love you Cecelia. Forgive me for not awakening you myself.” she said and soon retracted out of my vision.
The silent footfalls of my parents couldn’t be heard even though I strained to hear them but sensed they had left. I turned my fuzzy gaze to rest upon a blurry Zarlach whose face was a mixture of pain and regret. “Please forgive me Princess.” I was going to say something but was stunned when Zarlach’s arms locked around me. My heavy head rolled back, exposing my neck, where pain ricocheted throughout my system. Something was piercing my neck and I squirmed.
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