“As you wish. You should rest up and sleep a little. You’re going to need your strength.” He studied me for a moment and then helped me back into bed. Before I fell asleep, he said: “Melanie, Michael is still young, don’t be too hard on him.” I never saw the face of my benefactor, and I woke up in my own apartment. My bike gear hung over the back of my kitchen chair, smeared with dried blood. I had no idea what day it was, but I knew what I had to do. Getting dressed was difficult if you could only use one hand, so I put on sweatpants, a sweater, a thin jacket and my turquoise coat. For once, I did not take the bus, but called a taxi.
I asked the driver to stop right in front of Michael’s house. I got out and took a deep breath before I entered the house. My entire body seemed to hum like an electric wire. The following conversation would be difficult and exhausting. Weakened by my injuries, I staggered into the kitchen. Without looking around, I called out to rouse them: “They’re trying to pit you against each other! Michael, you have to trust me on this!” I only started to recognize the people gathered in the kitchen after I had spoken: Michael, Andreas, Jeremeia, and a few others, including Daniel. The way they were sitting calmly around the table didn’t look hostile at all.
Michael averted his eyes, rose to his feet, and made to leave the room, pausing only to say: “You know what to do.” Despairing, I called after him, but he didn’t react. Stunned by his apparent disdain, I watched him walk out the door and felt the draft when he closed it behind him. He had just walked out on me! After everything that had happened to me, how could he just up and leave?
Andreas looked dangerous as he was striding towards me with a strange little smile. Stefan, who also approached me, and Nicky, who moved to block my way back out, didn’t look any friendlier. The sorrow that resulted from Michael’s behavior was stronger than my fear of the three of them. I ignored them and took a small step backwards. In a flash, Stefan and Andreas grabbed me by my arms and shoulders, and slammed me into the wall with the force of two bulldozers. All I could do was cry out briefly, then my legs buckled and the shot wound in my shoulder started to bleed again. They had probably just broken every bone in my shoulders and arms, but I didn’t have the strength to scream my pain to the heavens. They said they would take out their anger on me, but Stefan eyed the blood seeping through my clothes with a look of confusion. I was just so tired and wanted it to stop. Hurt and betrayed, I gave up. The stabbing pain everywhere in my body was paralyzing. I didn’t even try to shield my face or plead with them. If they wanted to kill me, they were a little late to the party. I was as good as dead. The sounds I emitted were merely a pathetic whimper.
Daniel slunk closer, unperturbed and cool, dabbed his finger into my wound, cooing: “Mmh, delicious blood,” and licking it. His eyes widened in shock. “Melanie? It’s really you.”
Andreas and Stefan stared at him, stunned and dismayed. They gently laid me on the kitchen floor. I was a sobbing, pathetic ball of misery. I was cold, probably due to the loss of blood. I did not want to feel the pain anymore, neither the emotional nor the physical one, and I longed to lose consciousness and never wake up again. While my eyes were slowly falling shut, I heard Andreas’ voice: “Don’t give up now! Don’t you dare die on me now! We didn’t want to hurt you; we thought you were dead!” I felt a wrist press against my lips, and then some thick liquid ran down my throat. I embraced the merciful darkness.
25 ROSALIA
There were at least two other people in the room with me, and they were softly talking together. I opened my eyes reluctantly, warily. Stefan and Andreas were watching me. There was no part in my body that didn’t hurt. I stared back at them, frightened and trembling. Stefan raised both hands in a gesture of peace. “We thought you were dead. We heard you die!” I had no idea what they were talking about. He saw my confusion and explained: “When you were abducted again, you did not sever the phone connection. We heard everything. She took all your energy and then handed you a weapon. Then we heard the shot, and we thought, no, she can’t survive that. When you came into the house to warn us this morning, we thought that it must be a trap. We thought that someone had used magic to take on your outward appearance and even your scent. We thought you were an enemy spy, but the taste of blood cannot be faked.”
He patiently waited for my reaction, for a sign that I understood, but in vain, I didn’t give it to him. I lay in bed motionless, my face blank and devoid of emotion. I noticed a strange taste on my lips and ran my tongue over them, wondering what it was.
“Jeremeia had to give you his blood; it was your only chance to survive.”
I closed my eyes and didn’t say a word, didn’t show any reaction. They tried to get me to speak, but I couldn’t care less. I wouldn’t have known what to say to them anyway. There was only room for a single thought in my head: How could Michael leave just like that? Even if he didn’t love me, he still would have owed me that.
Alessandro stepped into the room. I only registered that it was him when he spoke up: “I can’t reach Michael.” They continued to talk, but I was too exhausted to follow their exchange. I fell asleep again. When I woke up the next time, I still felt as if there was no intact bone in my body. I could hear several people argue or debate downstairs. When I looked around the room, I was surprised to see Stefan’s phone on the bedside table next to me. I tried to brace myself on my forearms, but the white-hot pain shot right up to my shoulders and I had no control over my muscles, so I fell back on the bed. I gingerly reached out with my right arm, trying to pick up the phone. An inch or two were missing. I stretched and struggled, agonizingly small movements that hurt like hell. Gritting my teeth one last time, I scrabbled to the side and finally held it in my hand. I dialed Rosalia’s number. I hoped that the Peris would be too busy with their argument to pay much attention to the sounds coming from my room. And apparently that was the case. I gave Rosalia a short, fragmentary summary of events, and she listened closely. She replied with a single sentence: “You stay where you are.” Then she hung up. What did she mean, ‘You stay where you are; I’m coming to get you,’ or rather, ‘You stay where you are; you made your bed now lie in it’? You never knew with these supernatural creatures.
Not knowing what they were planning to do to me and unable to move, I lay in bed scared. Downstairs things were quieting down; apparently most of the people had left the house. A short while later the door was opened slowly and a familiar face peeked in. “Hey, may I come in, or don’t you want to see anyone of us again for the rest of your life?” I nodded, relieved to see Iveria. I was glad that it wasn’t one of the guys. She closed the door behind her and sat down at my bedside. “Katja says to get well soon. I had to promise her I would break Michael’s and Stefan’s jaws.”
“What good would that do?”
She gave me a look that said ‘I don’t understand your question.’ “You mean, apart from the fact that it would give me satisfaction? Nothing.”
“Iveria, what are they going to do with me … or to me?”
“Nothing. They will care for you and see to it that you will heal up. You wouldn’t have made it without the vampire blood this time.” She studied me for a while, apparently puzzled by my question, but then her face twisted with understanding and dismay. “Oh Melanie, the whole mess was a misunderstanding. Stefan and Andreas never wanted to harm you. They thought you were dead.”
“They mentioned something like that. They could have given me a chance to prove that it was me, before they smashed my shoulders to pieces.”
“True, but …” She broke off, because the door opened again and Rosalia stepped into the room. She ignored Iveria and pushed her aside without a word. Then she examined my wounds and put something into my mouth that tasted horrible. “Mellie, get up, we’re going home.”
For many years, nobody had called me Mellie. I wasn’t even able to roll over; how was I supposed to get up? I wanted to protest, but she didn’t give me a chance. “No child I helped raise is a wimp. Now get up on
your feet!” I gritted my teeth, grabbed her arm, and slowly pulled myself into a sitting position. She wrapped a blanket around me and pulled me to my feet, doing most of the work while I merely tried to keep my balance. Wracked by terrible pain, trembling and groaning, I hauled my weakened frame downstairs, supported by her incredibly strong arms. Alessandro blocked our exit in the front hall. “Where do you think you are taking her? She belongs to Michael.”
“Young man, I spanked you when you were just a spring chicken, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.” Rosalia’s voice had this stern, matronly quality. I didn’t want to be in Alessandro’s shoes at that moment. She stroked my cheek and confided: “He was my charge before you, Mellie. Probably the worst kid I ever looked after. Though I have to say that you were the biggest challenge, at least until you were two years old.”
Baffled, Alessandro looked from her to me and back, but he let us pass. Rosalie put me into her car as gently as she could, and then closed the door. A car came speeding around the bend on two wheels. I watched in the rearview mirror as Michael jumped from his Audi and stormed into the house. A second later he came back out and ran in our direction. Rosalia blocked his path.
He ignored her and opened the door on my side. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered and stared at me, utterly flabbergasted. He had hurt me so deeply and betrayed my trust. The rending pain in my chest that had tormented me since we had separated was intensified when I looked at him. I felt my eyes brim with unshed tears. Overwhelmed and scared, I pulled up the blanket, practically hiding my face in this soft cocoon. He immediately froze. If I didn’t know that it was impossible, I would have thought I saw a tear in his eye.
Rosalia grabbed him by the shoulder from behind. “You know full well that you have no right to call her yours. Not your property, not your human. I will take her with me now, whether you like it or not. You don’t deserve her!”
Michael took a step backwards, and Rosalia reached past him to close the car door again. She went around and got in behind the wheel. Before we pulled out of the driveway, I glanced into the rearview mirror again. He was still standing in the same spot, staring after us. Would I ever get over him? I didn’t know. Although there was no logical explanation for it, I loved the jerk. It was as if I was drawn to him like a magnet.
26 THE CONFESSION
I spent the following days in my old home. Rosalia coddled me as best she could. The gruff manner with which she had prodded me to get up and leave Michael’s house had apparently only been a show put on for the benefit of the Peris, for as soon as the car was out of possible earshot, she started pitying me and gave me something for the pain. We talked about all kinds of things in the days that followed, but she kept her stony silence when it came to my heritage, and also when I asked any other questions regarding the supernatural world. I on the other hand told her everything. Maybe I forgot a detail here and there, but not on purpose.
My pretty little house! I had always entertained the thought of coming back here one day. The first floor consisted of a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, and a guest room with its own bathroom. When I was a child, my uncle Murphy used to live in that room for an entire year. I never saw him again afterwards. Now I wonder what species he was. In the roomy kitchen with the pretty hardwood floor, the L-shaped row of cabinets and appliances ran along one wall, with the sink forming the shorter bar of the L under the window. There was a standalone countertop with an attached bar table and bar stools in the center of the room. I had always liked my parents’ pale yellow kitchen, because it was simply beautiful. Next to it was the oblong dining room with the large table and the illuminated glass cabinets. The living room was governed by a cozy leather couch. It also contained a shelf unit that held the TV, CDs and DVDs, plus a wooden desk. The tiled stove that used to be fired up not only in winter, but also on cool evenings between seasons possessed a large viewing panel, so you could not just enjoy its warmth, but also watch the crackling fire. Except for the kitchen, the entire house was carpeted in a white pile, which fascinatingly enough had never been dirty in all those many years. Who knows, maybe my father had magically taken care of that. The second floor was divided into five rooms, a study, my parents’ bedroom, my dead sister’s bedroom, my own room, and a bathroom. My sister’s room was untouched. My father had suggested we turn it into a study for me, but I balked at the idea and rebelled, until he promised me he would leave it exactly as it was. I couldn’t have claimed her room for any reason. I could not change the fact that she was dead, but I could perpetuate and honor her memory. I didn’t want to profit from her passing in whatever way.
In my room, my old bed was waiting for me. I spent four days in it, wallowing in self-pity. I yearned for my parents, wanted to take the part of the sheltered child for a few days again. I wanted Mama to coddle and spoil me, discuss my problems with Papa. And, though I was ashamed to admit it, I also missed Michael. Why did I have to love the one man who had betrayed me in every possible way? And yet I felt bound to him, even after everything he had done. What was so special about him? I would have given a lot to be able to snuggle into his arms.
At night I was haunted by nightmares. I turned into a monster or was hunted by other monsters. The echo of Andreas’ words regarding my abduction at Nikelaus’ hands kept replaying in my head. I recalled the Peris teaching Michael a ‘lesson’ when we went out to dinner that one night, how they had said that he should watch over me better than he had, how Martellius had warned him not to make such a huge mistake again. There was only one logical explanation for all of that: Michael had really used me as a strategic tool against Nikelaus. I did not know how he did it, but I was sure that he had planted the idea in Nikelaus’ head, complete with the ruse of faking my death. That would explain everything, especially his reaction to my escape. He had not been thrilled or relieved to see me that night, and the evening Nikelaus had kidnapped me, Michael had disappeared quickly and abruptly, only a short while before his uncle had shown up. Apparently I meant even less to him than I had thought. I fell asleep again brooding. This time I dreamed of Michael, and how he sold me for his own advantage. The words of the Peri woman came back to haunt me as well, but I refused to allow the thought of a possible death of my parents. I did not want to believe that, and I wouldn’t.
Thanks to the vampire blood, my wounds had healed after only one day, but I spent four days in bed anyway. On the fifth day I kicked myself in the butt and dragged myself out of bed. For the first time I went into the kitchen to fix myself something to eat. I borrowed Rosalia’s phone to call the cinema. I had left work early on Saturday, and since I hadn’t signed off or excused myself, my boss was seething. His mood did not improve when I told him I was calling in sick for the coming week.
One evening Rosalia and I were sitting at the dinner table, when she suddenly spoke the words that made the golden lines on my skin visible. Then she reached for my hand. “Melanie, I was opposed to this from the start, but I helped do that to you. Believe me, we only wanted what’s best for you, all of us did. I want you to know that.”
“Rosalia, what are these lines, what do they mean?”
For the first time in my life, I saw tears in Rosalia’s eyes. “They are the reason you can’t defend yourself. They are the reason you suffered so much. I understand if you hate me for that. We hoped to give you a normal life through these. We wanted you to be able to decide for yourself what kind of life you would lead.”
I was getting impatient, and the thought of hating her seemed absurd. “Rosalia, spill it! You are the only important person from my childhood that’s left. I could never hate you. Plus that would mean I’d have to hate my father, too, and I’m not willing to ever do that.”
“It’s a Filguri Sybielle.”
“So am I a Filguri?”
“Melanie, the spell has that name because it was invented by the Filguri. The Sybielle suppresses your abilities. You shouldn’t be able to tap into them at all, not even the slightest bit. Y
ou told me how you were suddenly able to see buildings in their actual shape, not their magical cover-up, and that you can see dragons only as dragons, unless you concentrate really hard. The barrier made sure you were fooled by camouflage magic and such, just like an ordinary human. You weren’t supposed to use your abilities, because if you do, you’re pushing against this cage, which you shouldn’t be capable of, but you already did that when you were a small child. The problem is, as soon as you let up – which you have to do at some point – the barrier rebounds and exerts pressure on you, up to the point where it suffocates and harms you. Do you remember your alleged fits and fainting spells? There never was a medical reason for those. We noticed that you stopped fighting the Sybielle when we shielded you from everything to do with magic, so we did. Your last ‘fit’ occurred when you were six years old. The fact that you keep using a small part of your talents on a regular basis now means that something must have damaged the barrier. Damn that Michael to hell!”
“What does he have to do with anything?”
I knew Rosalia; she regretted that last sentence already. “Nothing, I’m just mad as hell with that man,” she explained innocently. I knew she was lying and it was obvious that she wouldn’t tell me the truth.
Rosalia, why have I always perceived Andreas in his true shape, even before I met Michael?”
“This kind of spell is usually weaker than those that are used to camouflage buildings.”
I was glad I finally knew what my lines were and why I kept fainting, and I told her as much. I did not want to ponder whether I should be mad with Rosalia or my father. The events of the preceding days were weighing me down enough. One day I would deal with those tangled feelings about their role in my past and my heritage, but that day had not come yet.
Peris Night: Terakon (Secret Language) Page 37