Falling Between (The Vaettir Serial, #1)

by Sara C. Roethle

  I stood by the fire for a while, because it beat sitting on the bed. Eventually I went through the dressers again, even though I knew I'd find the same things, and looked underneath the bed as well. There was nothing under the bed, not even dust bunnies.

  Finally I'd had enough, and went for the door. I reached for the knob and hesitated. I placed my ear against the door and paused to listen, but couldn't hear anything on the other side. I took a deep breath and grabbed the knob, opening the door before I could think better of it. I let out my breath when it was revealed that no one was waiting on the other side.

  With a steadying hand against the wall, I tip-toed out into the hallway, almost wishing I would have gone with bare feet rather than running shoes. I crept down the hall cringing at the little tip-taps of my steps. The lighting in the halls was more dim that it had been earlier, but still enough to see by luckily. Not sure where to go, I finally decided to go back down the hallway where I'd had my encounter with James. I did not want another meeting with him, but it seemed the most likely place for an exit. From what I'd seen of the opposite direction, the other halls led deeper into the compound.

  I looked over my shoulder every few seconds, wanting to run, but afraid of the noise my feet would make. I was mid-step when I heard a low-throated growl that raised the hairs on my arms. I turned around in what felt like slow motion to see a dog the size of a grizzly bear.

  I stood perfectly still as the beast took a slow step towards me. Upon closer observation, maybe it wasn't a dog. It had a face similar to that of a rottweiler, but something about its stance was wrong. I realized that it's neck was far too long, and what I could see of its tail was way too thick. It had the body of a bear, the head of a dog, and the neck and stance of a giant lizard. Dark brown fur flowed over it's face and body, blending the aspects of different animals seamlessly.

  The thing cocked back its head and sniffed the air, then let out another low growl. It shifted from foot to foot, as if preparing to pounce. Knowing that I would have no chance if it jumped on me, I turned and ran.

  I was no longer concerned about my footfalls as I rounded a corner in the hallway. I grabbed the knob of the first door that I saw, praying to whatever I should be praying to that it wasn't locked. The door came open and I practically fell inside. I felt the air shift behind me as the creature went barreling by. I slammed the door shut and slid the lock into place, not waiting to see if the creature came back. I was suddenly very glad that all of the doors in the place seemed to be made of heavy, sturdy wood.

  I turned to look at the room I was now trapped in. It was made of stone, of course, but something dark stained the walls and floor. The room barely had enough light to see by. I walked towards the nearest wall and touched the stains, smoothing my fingertips across the stone. My fingers came away with something thick and sticky. Older, dry stains were spread underneath the more recent ones, flowing in patterns like water. I stepped away from the wall, rubbing my fingers on my jeans as I went.

  My sneakered feet stuck to the floor as I explored the dimly-lit room a little further. Large cages with thick steel bars lined the far wall. The refuse inside of the cages hinted to the fact that they had once been occupied, but they were all empty now. I wondered if the cages were for other beasts like the one I'd seen. The room stank of sickness and antiseptic.

  A scratching at the door caught my attention. At first I thought that the creature had realized where I was, but then I noticed that the scratching was coming from somewhere beside the door, and not outside of it.

  I crept towards the sound, barely able to hear the scratching over the thudding of my heart. There was something small moving around where the floor met the wall, but there wasn't enough light to quite make out what it was. I crouched down and reached out a hand to try and coax the thing into the dim light. It worked. Too fast to follow, the thing lunged for me. It was only the size of a very large rat, but it flew into me with such force that it knocked me to the ground.

  The moist stickiness of the floor seeped into my clothing as I frantically tried to grab at the thing that was scratching at my torso. I wrapped my hands around it, but the creature was wet and slippery. It slipped right through my fingers and went for my throat, wrapping tightly around my neck to cut off my air supply.

  My breath wheezed in and out shallowly as I pried at the thing's fingers. Fingers? It felt like a hand around my throat. Flashes of fear and rage pulsed in my mind. I saw blurry scenes that I knew had nothing to do with my own memories, they were somehow coming from the creature. The had scenes faded as my vision began to go black when I felt a small rush of energy, then the thing suddenly went limp. I threw it off of me and pushed myself backwards across the floor.

  My vision came back in stages as I caught my breath. I could see the dark shape of the thing a few feet away, but it didn't move. I got to my feet and ran forward as quickly as I could manage, and stomped the creature with my heel as soon as I reached it. I jumped on it until I heard bones crunch, then finally leaned down to examine it again. It was a hand.

  The hand was now bruised and misshapen from my stomping, but that wasn't the worst of its injuries. Right above the wrist bone the hand had been severed from its owner. Bone gleamed in the dim light as blood continued to gush forth. There shouldn't have been that much blood in just a hand, but the thing was covered in it. That was why it had been so difficult to keep a hold of. Yet none of those things had been what killed it. I had killed it, just like I did Matthew. I knew it with a sickening surety. I had felt the same rush of energy when Matthew died.

  I pushed myself away from the hand just before I lost what little dinner I'd eaten. My vomit and tears fell to commingle with the substance on the floor that I now realized was blood. The whole room was covered in blood. I quickly got to my feet and tried to wipe my hands off on my jeans, but the blood was too sticky and I couldn't get it all off. I stumbled back towards the door, ready to take my chances with the creature if it meant I could just get out of that room. How had the hand even moved to begin with?

  I glanced back at the hand in question, half-expecting it to have disappeared, but it was still just lying there. My own hands were shaking so badly that it took me several tries to undo the lock. When I finally managed to open the door I had to jump back, because someone was in the doorway. I ended up slipping and falling hard on my tail-bone.

  Alaric looked down at me. “I thought you might try to run again. I figured I'd make sure you didn't get eaten.”

  “Great job,” I replied shakily.

  He reached down and picked me up effortlessly. He carried me out of the room of horrors without a word, and I let him. “You need another bath,” he commented once we were walking down the hall.

  “W-what was that room?” I stammered. “There was a hand.”

  He chuckled. “Sometimes parts get left behind. They can be a little cross about what happened to their bodies.”

  I almost thought that I was going to vomit again, but I managed to hold it in. “And what happened to their bodies?” I asked weakly.

  “Did Estus tell you why you were brought back to us?” he asked rather than answering my question.

  “He said you needed a new executioner,” I answered, as if it were a normal thing to say.

  Alaric stopped to hoist me up and get a more firm grip around me. “You just met the hand of our last executioner,” he explained.

  “You killed him!” I exclaimed, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

  “Not me personally,” he replied holding on and not letting me drop. “Though I would have. He was a traitor.”

  The struggling was getting me nowhere, so I stopped. “What did he do?” I asked instead.

  Alaric looked down at me with a cold expression. “He was a traitor, and we cannot afford traitors in times like these.”

  “Times like these?” I prompted.

  “My dear executioner,” he replied. “We are at war.”

  Alaric let me down to my f
eet as we reached the bathroom. I looked at him as he prepared to leave me while visions of lizard dogs and bloody hands danced in my head. “Please stay,” I said before I could think it through.

  He looked surprised, then smiled. “You mean, stay?” he drew out the word as if it meant more than just staying.

  My eyes widened. “Oh no,” I corrected. “It's just. What if there are more body parts wandering around?”

  “You handled that hand all on your own-” he began.

  “Please,” I interrupted.

  He shrugged and shut the bathroom door behind us, then went to sit on the closed toilet seat.

  “You have blood on your clothes,” I observed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “You have much more on yours.”

  I looked down. He was right. The sticky, congealed blood had soaked into the back of my jeans, and there were smears of it all over my shirt. “Close your eyes please,” I said, more than ready to get out of the soiled clothing.

  “And what if I said no?” he asked with his eyes still wide open.

  “Then I would take my chances with the severed body parts,” I answered bluntly.

  He laughed at me, but still obeyed and closed his eyes. I peeled the soiled clothing off and hopped quickly into the tub. Instead of just filling it right away, I ran the water and splashed off any of the blood that was on my skin so it could run down the drain. The pinkish water running towards the drain would have almost been pretty if I didn't know that it was from a man who had been brutally murdered.

  “Can I open them yet?” Alaric asked in a tone that implied that I was being very silly.

  “Yes,” I answered. “But keep your gaze forward please.” If modesty was silly, then baby, call me the queen of slap-stick.

  “You know it would be much more efficient if I could just hop in there with you,” he joked. “At this rate I'll never get to bed.”

  “I'll be out soon enough,” I grumbled. The water had filled enough for me to start scrubbing myself with the vanilla soap. I still had a few little patches of crusty dried blood on my skin, and a decent amount in my hair. I scootched forward enough to lean back and dunk my hair into the water. When I came back up the water was pink. I quickly turned off the faucet and unplugged the drain.

  “I was only kidding,” he said.

  “I need to refill the water,” I explained, turning to look at him. “Hey, avert your eyes!”

  He looked away with a laugh. “Why do you need to refill the water?” he asked, obviously trying to distract me.

  “There was blood in it,” I answered.

  He laughed again. “It will be interesting to see how you adapt among the Vaettir.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Do you enjoy bathing in the blood of thine enemies?”

  “Something like that,” he answered soberly.

  “You can't keep me here forever,” I added.

  He turned to look at me, but he seemed so serious that I just hunched down to cover my breasts rather than telling him to look away.

  “It would have happened again,” he said cryptically. “The taking of life is your gift.”

  “The taking of life is not a gift,” I snapped, once again thinking of Matthew.

  “Not always,” he replied, finally averting his eyes. “Nor is it always a curse.”

  I renewed the water flow and slipped down into the tub, fully prepared to sulk. It would have happened again, he'd said. I couldn't bear what had happened with Matthew happening with someone else. Of course, as far as I could tell these people wanted me to use my gift, which I was definitely not okay with. I washed my hair and scrubbed my skin nearly raw in silence.

  “You have lovely skin,” he commented, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You should probably try to not scrub it all off.”

  “Stop looking!” I exclaimed as I huddled up to cover myself.

  “I can't protect you if I can't see you,” he argued with laughter in his voice.

  I smiled in spite of myself. He was being a lech, but he was also obviously trying to cheer me up. I had to appreciate the latter, at least a little.

  When I was finished Alaric handed me two towels, one for my hair and one for my body. It was oddly considerate. Then again, with the length of his hair he probably had to use two towels too.

  He turned his back so I could step out of the tub and dry myself out. It only dawned on me as I finished drying off that I didn't have any clean clothes to change into. At a loss, I wrapped the towel I'd used on my body tightly around me, then tapped Alaric on the shoulder.

  Now, when someone turns around to see you, you usually expect them to take a step back to make room. Alaric turned around without the step back and was suddenly very close to me. His pants brushed against the bottom edge of my towel moving the fabric ever so slightly. Luckily the smaller amount of blood he'd gotten on him was already dry and didn't transfer to the clean towel.

  I slowly moved my eyes upward, feeling nervous and perhaps a little bit of something else. Alaric looked down at me with a knowing smile, eliciting goosebumps up and down my arms. I eyed him warily, feeling like a deer in the headlights, but he didn't move out of my way.

  “If my gift is death, like you say,” I began carefully. “Then shouldn't you be afraid of me?”

  “You would bring a swift death to a human,” he replied. “But I would only fear you if I was severely weakened.” He smoothed a hand down my bare arm.

  “You're really going to kidnap me, then hit on me?” I asked.

  He smiled, not in the least bit offended. “I am simply letting you know your options. The choice remains yours.”

  “So I have the choice of whether or not I sleep with you, but not the choice of leaving this place?” I asked, now with a hint of anger in my tone.

  Alaric raised his hands in an I give up gesture. “That second choice is not mine to give. I would not offer you a lie.”

  A subtle throbbing was beginning to grow between my eyes. I pinched the bridge of my nose to ease the pain. “I'm very tired,” I said, hoping to end the conversation.

  This time when I was left in my room, I really would sleep. I felt unsteady on my feet just standing there. Alaric nodded and led me out of the bathroom and back down the hallway towards my room.

  He stayed in the doorway of my bedroom, forcing me to squeeze by him in order to go inside. I half-expected him to follow me in, but he remained in the threshold. After a moment he stepped back to close the door for me, though he left it open long enough for him to peek his head back inside and leave a standing offer for him to be my “snuggle buddy”.

  Yeah, I needed a snuggle bunny like I needed hepatitis.

  Chapter Four

  I fell asleep almost instantly, and if I dreamed, I didn't remember them. I woke up confused as to where I was, until the memories of the previous day came flooding back to me. Had all of that occurred in just a day? I thought about my little house, and the fact that no one would have yet noticed that I was missing from it. No one knew that I hadn't spent the last two nights safely tucked into my bed.

  I was still sitting in bed dazed and confused when Sophie came inside without a knock. “Get dressed,” she ordered. “Breakfast first, then you have a job to do.”

  The “job” they had brought me back for was the position of executioner. Did they want me to kill someone? “I-I don't feel well,” I stammered. “I should probably just stay in bed today.”

  Sophie ignored me as she went through my drawers in search of something for me to wear. Finally she threw a pair of blue jeans and an olive colored tank top at me. Next came a clean bra, underwear, and a pair of socks that nearly hit me in the head. Once she was finished flinging fabric she stood at the foot of my bed with her arms crossed.

  “Well?” she prompted.

  I rolled out of bed and got dressed quickly, not wanting her to throw something more substantial than socks at me. When I was finished she looked me up and down then said, “You k
now where the bathroom is. You'll find a toothbrush and whatever else you might need. I'll be waiting in the kitchens.”

  With that, she was gone, leaving me to fret over just what the “job” might be by myself. I peeked out into the hall to verify that the coast was clear, then hurried into the bathroom where I promptly locked the door behind me. I took as long as I possibly could to brush my teeth and put on deodorant, but eventually I had to admit to myself that I couldn't just stay in the bathroom forever.

  I was grudgingly beginning to not just think about escape, but what these people could do for me. They had verified what I had always somehow known about Matthew. That experience had kept me chaste and alone, for fear of it ever happening with someone else. Maybe there was some way to control when it happened. If I could control it, I would be free to live an actual life. That was of course if I could not only learn control, but then escape my captors in one piece. The latter was seeming less and less likely.

  Finally I took a deep breath and went out into the hall, heading straight for the kitchen. I could have searched for a way out again, but my last two attempts at escaping hadn't gone over terribly well. Perhaps soon I'd find out where the exit was, then I'd stand a better chance.

  Sophie was waiting in the kitchen as promised, but so were Alaric and James. Sophie and Alaric were both sipping on coffee, and James had tea. I couldn't tell what kind it was, but the little green leaflet hanging from the string hinted at herbal. I liked him less and less. Sophie handed a cup of already poured coffee to me as I entered the room and went to stand by her. The division between the coffee drinkers and the non was highly apparent.

  I eyed James nervously and he eyed me right back, sipping his tea with a secretive smile. The smile made me more uncomfortable than a thousand angry glares every could. His golden hair was still damp enough from his shower to leave small dark stains around the collar of his charcoal gray shirt. The dark color of the shirt made the icy color of his eyes even more pronounced.

  I suddenly felt nervous enough to throw up, and had to take a sip of coffee to keep it down. James smiled a little bit more.