The Knight Of The Rose

by A. M. Hudson

  other dancers in the final act.

  “Pardon?”

  “I shall not repeat myself, girl. It’s rude not to listen.”

  “I heard you. I just wondered what you meant.”

  Jason smiled—seemingly to himself. “I meant that if this were your last night, it would be a

  grand way to spend it.”

  “Yes.” I looked down at the dance floor, which, from the balcony, looked like an eighteenth-

  century court. “I suppose so.”

  “Do you know why I’ve come?”

  I shook my head. “Are you here because of David?”

  His eyes focused on something in the distance while the same malignant smile as before

  settled onto his dark-pink lips, sending shivers down my spine. Bad shivers.

  “Where is David?” I asked.

  “In pain, I suspect?”

  “What do you mean by that?” I stood up straight.

  Jason turned around and leaned his back on the ledge. “I mean—you hurt him. Badly. I

  suspect he’s grieving, at this time.”

  “What would you know about it?”

  “I know you gave him your heart, then denied him your life.”

  “That’s none of your bu siness,” I scolded i mpetuously. As I turned to walk away, Jason’s

  hand lashed out and caught me off guard, spinning me into his chest with a breathtaking jolt.

  “On the contrary, my dear. It is.”

  I stiffened all over, wedging the ball of my palm into his chest. “What are you doing? Let go

  of me.” When a few curious glances flicked our way, Jason placed his hand firmly on my lower back

  and forced my arms into position; “Dance with me.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” I said, but he held me firmly and start ed spinning around to the

  soft piano—like we were dancing harmlessly—just two masked teens, in love. “What do you want,

  Jason?”

  “I think you already know what I want.”

  “I’ve never been one for guessing games.”

  “Let’s just say...” his eyes, under the cover of the black mask, became small with a smile,

  “I’m not here for pleasure.”

  Like my rapidly thumping heart was pulled out through my spine, a s udden urge to escape

  filled my body with a cold rush. I cast my eyes to the dance floor, but Mike was gone. The space he

  stood before—vacant.

  I steadied my own misdirected thoughts and tried to sound calm. “Well, if it’s not pleasure,

  it must be business. What business do you have here?”

  Jason’s head moved at a fraction of an inch. He smiled—the green in his eyes occupying the

  corners. “Someone is looking for you.”

  I followed his sideways gaze to see Mike running through the crowd—panicked, touching

  the shoulders of various individuals—obviously desperate to find me.

  Look up, Mike, look up.

  “I’ll kill him, Ara. If he comes for you—he will die.”

  The air escaped my lips in an abrupt gasp. “Why? What do you want with me?”

  “It’s nothing personal, really —” He tilted hi s head. “You’re j ust the impl ement in my

  recompense for a misfortune my brother so unkindly bestowed on myself.”

  “Huh?”

  He sighed. “I’m going to hurt you to hurt him.”

  My mouth fell open with a huff. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  “Oh, I’m going to do worse than touch you.”

  “No!” I sunk my knees down—tr ying to pull my self free from his hold, but he gr abbed my

  arm and started walking toward th e dark chamber gardens. “Let me go, Jaso n,” I o rdered, “I’ll

  scream.”

  Without trepidation, he just smiled wickedly, keeping his eyes on our destination. “You

  won’t scream. Because you know I’ll kill them—all of them, Ara. I wi ll take every last life that

  resides in this miserable gathering, and I will save you until the end, so you may watch as I tear

  apart every one of your friends, and eviscerate your replacement lover.”

  His spiteful promise stirred only a ferocious and unrefined anger in me. “No. I won’t let you.

  Get off me!” I scratched viscously at his hand, feeling the muscles in my arms tighten in places they

  never had before.

  “Stop struggling.” His razor-sharp fingernails dug in to my flesh, making it bleed. I tried to

  unwind them from my arm, gritting my teeth through the pain, but they tightened.

  As we neared the step, my darting gaze of desperation flicked around the room—passing

  over the smiles of distracted couples.

  Where’s David? He was supposed to be here—he was supposed to come. The last dance on

  the hour of midnight. That was the deal. Why hasn’t he come?

  The haunting piano stopped bel ow us, and the gentle clicking of applause filled the air as

  Jason pulled me along—attempting discretion—and to my amazement, succeeding.

  But, when a f ew gasps and words of abhorrence caught my attention, I looked over to see

  Mike racing through the crowd on the other side of the dance floor—his ma sk removed, his eyes

  ragged with despair.

  I’m sorry, Mike. Please don’t look this way?

  Jason waited by t he stairs as a few couples emerged f rom the darkness, straightening their

  clothes and looking a little flushed. He smiled at them knowingly, pulling me closer to conceal his

  tight grip within the closeness of our bodies. I tried to pus h my hips away from his, but he hooked

  his foot around my ankle and held me to him.

  Tears pricked the corners of my eyes when I looked down at my hand against the lapels of

  his suit jacket and saw the contrast of black against my ruby ring—like midnight blood.

  Mike’s face—the way he smiled when I accepted his proposal—filled my heart with regret. I

  wanted him to come; I wanted him to save me and hold me in hi s arms just once more. But if I

  indulged the idea of rescue, Mike would be dead—as would everyone else I love.

  My life in exchange for many.

  “Mike can’t help you now, anyway, Ara. The predator has you within his grasp—you won’t

  get away.”

  David could help me—if he were here. I know he’d...

  “David will not help you, either .” Jason’s eyes flooded wi th amusement. “He does not care

  for you now. Not even in death.” He looked down at my shaking jaw and the liquid running from

  my eyes and nose, falling over my lips. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  I nodded and closed my eyes tight.

  “Of course, he still won’t like what I’m going to do to you—he never did like me pl aying

  with his things.”

  “What?” I looked up at him, and the moon sudd enly hid behind the clouds above us . “What

  are you going to do to me?”

  “It’s amusing, really. You thought you would never see him again—but you wil l. Well,” he

  scoffed, “at least—your body will.”

  “My body?”

  “When I am done with you, I wi ll hand over your sorry remains, and you will finally be

  together again,” he remarked with detest. “It’s quite the poetic ending, don’t you think?”

  “No!” The fear left my li ps in an uncontrolled cry as several other cries came from nearby.

  Jason and I both looked behind us to where two couples nearly toppled over the edge of the balcony

  as Mike, my br ave and fearles s knight, bounded up the stair s. His eyes met mi ne for only a

  heartbeat. Then, he started running.

  No! Mike, don’t r
un, don’t come for me. Panic stole my stiffness. I wriggled in Jason’s

  arms—torn between reality and paranormal. He’s just a man—Jason is just a man. What if there

  were no such thing as vampires? What if I could scream—run into Mike’s arms, and this nightmare

  would be over?

  But it’s not a dream—it’s r eal. David was real. Ja son is real. And he really is going to hurt

  me. I won’t let hi m hurt Mike, too. I love him, I’v e always loved hi m, and that is one thing that,

  even as I die, Jason will never be able to steal from me.

  “Jason!” I gasped in a low voice as Mike parted the crowd with brute force and closed the

  short gap between us. “Run!”

  Jason slowly looked over his shoulder; Mike stopped for a split second as their gazes met—a

  lifetime of comprehension passed the invisible barrier between them, and in that moment, as Jason

  reached down and swept me off the ground, Mike knew. I clos ed my eyes and prayed as th e

  darkness closed me i n, seeing Mike’s face as all hope slipped for one heartbeat when he knew—I

  was lost to the night.

  I opened my eyes again to kale idoscope shadows of leaves on my hands and dr ess. Jason

  held my arm and turned me to face the other direction. It was there, atop the stairs we had been

  standing on, that I saw Mike grasp the rai ling and lean into the nigh t—searching the dar kness

  hopelessly. “Ara!” He cupped his hands over his mouth; his tone rang out over the echo of the

  shallow, rock-surrounded valley. “Ara!” He ran down the first two steps and s topped, then called

  again and again. His tone becoming more desperate, his voice breaking to tears beneath the panic.

  “He won’t give up, you know,” I said.

  “Then he’ll die.”

  I looked back at Jason, then, seeing the ser iousness in his eyes, slowly looked upon my

  Zorro one last time. Mike’s hands flew into his hair; he gripped it for a second before falling ont o

  the step with his head in his knees.

  A girl placed her hand on his shoulder as she came up behind him. Emily.

  “That’s quite a warrior you have there,” Jason said. “Perhaps I should oblige him to a duel?”

  “You came here for me. You leave him out of this,” I warned, clenching my fists.

  Jason watched again for a second as Emily headed back to the ball, running. Mike st ood up

  and took off into the darkness—the wrong way—calling my name.

  “Finally, we’re alone,” Jason said.

  A frosty, pine-scented wind chilled my skin and spread bumps across my arms. Jason turned

  to me, wrapping his widespread fingers over his mask, then pulled i t away, revealing a face that

  stole my breath.

  An exact copy of David.

  “Yes, stunning, isn’t it?” He reached out and stroked one finger down my arm. “You see? It

  might not be s o bad being killed by me. Perhaps you can imagine it’s my brother. Maybe you’ll

  enjoy it.”

  “You’re sick, Jason. David would never hurt me. He’d never hurt anyone.”

  “That is where you’re wrong, dear, sweet, Ara. He is as maliciously sinister as I.” Jason’s

  ice-cold fingertips clasped both of my arms. He pulled me close enough for my brow to t ouch his

  smooth chin.

  “He’s nothing like you.” I turned my face away. “He would never kill for the fun of it.”

  Jason released me and laughed loudly. “Oh, I see. You think he’s kind—and compassionate?

  Is that what he would have you believe?” He spun around a foot away from me, and bowed with

  humour. “Well, perhaps I am mistak en. Perhaps I have the wrong girl.” Then, repulsion washed off

  his grin. “Or perhaps you have been kept in the dark, young lady. You see, my brother saw fit to

  remove a girl that I loved from this world, and I—” Jason’s cold breath infected the side of my neck

  as he sprung up s uddenly in front of me and whisper ed his words in to my skin, “I intend to r epay

  him the favour.”

  I jerked away from him. “Go ah ead, Jason. If you’re going to kill me—just get it over with.

  I’m tired of your childish games.” Boldly, and with detest, I folded my arms and glowered at him.

  I’m not afraid to die, and I’m not afraid of you. “Come on, then. You obviously want to

  break my heart with yo ur little story about how evil David is. So let’s ha ve it—” I challenged.

  “Maybe you can even get stuck in a little monologue just long enough for me to escape?”

  Jason’s hand shot out, and every muscle in my body seized up as his tight grip clenched my

  throat, restricting my breath—stopping my hear t for a be at. “Do not spe ak to m e with such

  contempt, you wretched little whelp, for I will not be so kind to your mouthy impudence.” He thrust

  his hand downward, violently slamming me to the floor before his fingers came loose.

  I coughed out, feeling a raspy tickle in my lungs from the salty, metal-taste of blood rushing

  up in the back of my throat.

  “Have we learned our lesson, now?” The predator towered over me.

  With tight, stinging gasps of welcome air, I rolled onto my knees and tore my mask away—

  dropping it to the grass beside the tears of agony and rage that fell from my eyes.

  Jason knelt beside me and held hi s curled finger just under my chin until a small droplet of

  sadness landed there. He studied the salty liquid carefully, tilting his head to one side. “You are

  devastatingly beautiful, Ara-Rose— The Rose. And he was your knight, was he not?” Then, with a

  sudden fondness to his tone, he asked, “Do I frighten you?”

  “I—” I tried to speak, but nothing came out; only my h eart answered with i ts erratic

  thumping.

  “Is it that...you do not wish to die?”

  At only an inch of a turn, I shook my head. Fear had taken up a constant presence in my

  pulsing veins, and I wasn’t brave enough to speak out again.

  “Neither did she; my lovely Rochel le.” Jason sat beside me, his back turned slight ly, his

  gaze cast to the trees overhead. “But he took her from me.”

  “I don’t believe you.” My voice came out as a ragged whisper; I was sure my vocal chords

  were damaged from the constriction. “David would never do that. He loves you too much.”

  Jason turned quickly, a frown pulling at his brow. “Is that so? Then, perhaps, if you believe

  that, you will allow me to illuminate the obviously very shro uded history of the one you so

  unconditionally love.” When he reached for me with the speed of a slap, I cowered to the grass and

  shielded my cheek. He shoved my hand away and pulled me to sit by the tight grip on each side of

  my face.

  “What’re you doing?” My voice shook.

  “Blessing you with the gift of insight.” With his fingert ips holding my chin tightly, he

  wrapped his other hand behind my neck; I pushed against his wrists with my forearms, merely

  forcing him to grip tighter.

  “No. I don’t want you touch me.”

  “You don’t have a say.” He laughed incredulously.

  In the distance, a familiar voice echoed off the rock-surrounds of the valley—trailing

  away—calling my name. My heart started again, filling with hope, but it was chased with a sorrow

  so deep my stomach swallowed the former.

  Dad? I think that’s my dad.

  “Are you ready for this, Ara?” Jason rested his thumbs under my eyes, holding me in place;

  his stern ton
e and the indentation of his grip suggested that moving might result in a cracked skull. I

  held my breath. “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it will hurt me.”

  “Please—don’t.” As his icy touch sent a stingi ng jolt of electricity through my cheek, my

  body wriggled instinctively, like a fish on a hook, trying to shift away from the beast. “Get off me,

  it hurts.” He held firmly, forcing me to feel his burning touch; it tore through my nerves, like the

  thorn of a rose on the tip of a finger—jagged and shar p. “Please—” I tugged at his thumbs. “Please

  stop.”

  “Close your eyes,” Jason ordered with scornful compassion. “It will hurt less.”

  Shaking, I scrunched my eyes tightly over the hot, stinging tears, and drew a quick breath

  instantly when I saw a girl; as clear as the sun in the day. She looked li ke a memory—one that

  didn’t belong to me, but visible like a reflection. She cowered in the corner of a dark room, hugging

  file://C:eBooksthe knight of the rosetmp_10fb7585fb340176147f7cd7cde60c05_vy... 27/05/2012

  her knees and whimpering int o her arms. A man towered over her for a second, then, as he

  softened, he knelt beside her, and she looked up at him; David?

  Jason’s grip eased. I drew a soft breath, rel axing my shoulders as the stinging in my face

  turned numb and cold.

  The film imprinted in my thoughts became clearer; the girl looked up—her face bloodied

  and her eyes round with fright—her whole body convulsed, trembling uncontrollably as David

  reached out and stroked her hair from her eyes.

  Is that...Emily?

  “No,” Jason’s voice came from beside me, in the memory. “Rochelle.”

  David caressed the golden-brown skin on her outer thigh, lifting the fabric of her short red

  dress, while she cried harder, begging him with her shaking head and pleading eyes.

  “You are such a pret ty little thing, Rochelle.” He cupped her chi n. “Do not worry. I wi ll

  erase this from your mind when I finish with you.”

  “Don’t you touch me!” Her face folded into a scowl.

  “Touch you?” David smiled and stroked her cheek as if she wer e his girlfriend. “I’m going

  to do more than touch you.”

  “Morire il male e‘,” she muttered, then spat on him.

  “You dirty little whore!” David’s hand flew up, slamming back down into her chin with lip-

  splitting force.