Thanatos' hands had curled into claws. His face was contorted, rage and hunger built into one expression. He didn't look funny anymore. Any amusement I had found in the chubby cheeks and weak chin dissipated into dust. Fear took its place, cold and slimy. Adrenaline washed over the terror, making my heart thud loudly in my head. I was aware of everything, from the twitch in Lester's eye to the soft billowing of the master's cape. My chest felt tight with anticipation and dread.
Thanatos pounced. I didn't have time to think. The gun clattered to the floor, skidding under the white wicker chair. The master knocked me down onto the floor. My cheek pressed into the wood floor as he jumped on my back. I saw the dust bunnies under the green couch, drifting with the movements in the air.
He grabbed my ponytail and yanked it back, exposing my neck. I coughed, air not going down my throat properly. Thanatos' fingernails scratched, hard and deep, into my neck. I attempted to roll over, to push his weight off of me, but his nails only dug deeper. A breath suddenly hissed out of him when his palm touched my skin. He grabbed the back of the leather jacket, pulled me up, and flung me against the edge of a couch. I heard my spine make a cracking sound, and my breath was knocked out of me. I sat there for a moment, back against the sofa, butt on the floor, without moving a muscle.
Thanatos wrapped his hand around my throat, squeezing. I felt the influx of my power, and he shrieked. He screamed, so long his voice went hoarse, so loud it made me go deaf. His hand left my neck, and he sunk to the floor at my feet. I stared at him, ears still ringing with the sound of his scream.
The door banged open, crashing into the wall. I jumped, and raised my eyes from Thanatos' crumpled form to look at the doorway. Another vampire stood there. But this one hadn't come to kill me. It had come to save me.
Well, it was about time.
* * *
Mr. Knightley stood in the doorway like a dark angel. Dangerous perfection.
His black waves were unruly, the ends curling into tendrils, brushing against his jaw. His sculpted lips were parted slightly with the anger that was sparking off of him. His once-enchanting green eyes were pitch black, surrounded by long, thick eyelashes. Dark blood was trickling down the length of his face.
Instead of being frightened of him, I was scared of what I felt when I looked at him. I can't find a way to describe it. It was there inside me, deep down. It made me want to reach out and smooth down his soft curls. It made want to soothe him and tell him everything was going to be okay. It wanted me to ease his ancient sadness, to make his one dimple appear on his right cheek. I didn't know what it was, but it was more terrifying to me than any vampire.
Callum spoke in a calm, low voice. "Get out of my house, Thanatos."
Thanatos remained unmoving at my feet. He was a solid lump under his silky cloak. He seemed to be on his knees, hands folded under him, forehead touching the floor. He didn't look like he was breathing; but then again, I wasn't sure vampires needed oxygen.
"Thanatos," Callum called, still in the doorway.
The lump didn't move. I risked it, and nudged Thanatos with my boot. He didn't move. I looked up at Callum, but his eyes didn't meet mine. He hadn't looked at me since he had crashed in the room.
Liam emerged from behind the couch I was leaning on. His slicked back hair was disheveled, and his red t-shirt had a rip down the side. He bent and grabbed Thanatos' cape, one fist curling around the sleek material. He pulled him up with ease. Thanatos' head hung down so his chin was touching his chest. Liam set him down on his feet, and let go.
Thanatos' hands hung limply at his sides. My stomach turned as I noticed they were red with black scorch marks. There were blisters on his palms, shiny and painful-looking. It was like his hands had been set on fire. I looked away quickly, nausea bubbling up. I hadn't done that. I couldn't have.
The room was quiet. All eyes went from Thanatos to me, except for Callum's. Liam was the first to look away. He nudged Thanatos' shoulder to turn him towards the door. Slowly, Thanatos raised his head off his chest enough to look at me. He looked right through me like I was invisible. His eyes were blank, empty, devoid of everything. They weren't mad, they weren't pained, like all emotion had vanished. I didn't know what to do or what to say, so I sat there, staring up into Thanatos' face.
Liam drove Thanatos to Callum with one hand on his back. Thanatos didn't resist, head slightly bent, charred hands swinging. Callum held up a hand when Liam tried to continue into the hallway. He said something to him, talking so fast his lips were a blur. Liam nodded, and Callum's hand took Thanatos' elbow. He pulled him out into the hall with him, and shut the door behind them.
"Are you alright?"
I tilted my head up to Liam. He was standing in front of me. I hadn't even realized he'd moved away from the door.
"I don't know," I said dazedly. I raised a hand to my neck to check. I felt the marks Thanatos' fingernails had made. My neck was burning where his fingers had choked me.
Liam sat on the couch across from the one I was leaning against. His eyes had faded back to brown now that the action was over. I dropped my hand and stared at my palm. It came away with little red spots of my blood. Thanatos' nails had pieced through my skin.
The sound of footsteps was muffled through the door. The doorknob twisted, and Callum entered again. He took a quick survey of the room, eyes cold when they swept over Chantal and Lester, still standing there by the couch, motionless. Ophelia and Raven entered behind him, moving to stand against the wall by the door. I stared at a spot on the hardwood floor. I couldn't get the image of Thanatos' burned hands and his lifeless eyes.
"I told you to check on her," Callum growled at Liam. He came to stand in front of me.
"I asked her if she was okay," Liam said indignantly.
"What did she say?"
Liam glanced at me. "She didn't know."
Callum turned to me. I looked up into his eyes, a brilliant green now. They were focused on my lap, though, not on my face. The blood running down the side of his face was still there, forgotten. He held out his hand to me, palm up.
I stared at it, and then shook my head. "No."
His voice was soft, silky, and wonderful as he said my name. "Dahlia."
I shook my head again. "I don't want to touch you."
Callum let his hand fall to his side. His expression was pained and guilty. "I understand," he said quietly.
He had misunderstood me. He thought I didn't want to touch him because I was disgusted and repulsed by vampires, not because I was afraid I might burn him, too.
"No," I said, "I don't want to hurt you."
Callum's face softened. He extended his hand to me again. "You won't hurt me, Dahlia."
My breath trembled as I inhaled. "How do you know?"
"I just do," he answered.
I raised my right hand hesitantly, and he caught it with his. I gasped, expecting something to happen. Nothing did. He didn't scream or fall to the floor, writhing in pain. He stood there, still as a statue.
"See?" he whispered.
Callum pulled me to my feet. My knees felt weak. I would have fallen right back down if his hand hadn't been grasping mine. When I had regained my feet, I tugged my hand loose from his. Smoothing down my clothes, I looked at the others in the room. Chantal and Lester were by the couch, Ophelia and Raven by the door, just watching me. Liam was spread out on the sofa, a faint look of amusement on his face. Good, I'm glad someone was enjoying all this.
He grinned at me. "Your acting skills are horrible, sunshine."
"No, they're not," I said huffily.
Liam eyes sparkled as he mimicked me, "'What about silver bullets?'"
"Shut up," I snapped. "It worked, didn't it?"
"Yeah, right up until his tried to rip your throat out," he chuckled.
I grimaced at him. "I'll have you know I was in the "A Wizard of Oz" play back in high school, and everyone said I did really good."
"And what part did you play?" he asked.
/> I looked down. Hadn't thought he'd ask that question. Under my breath, I muttered, "Toto."
Liam laughed loudly, and held up his both his hands in surrender. "Oh, sorry, my mistake."
Ophelia and Raven were chuckling by the door, and Lester was grinning. I looked at Callum. A small smile had spread across his face. His right cheek was graced with a single dimple. I had the sudden urge to touch it. I wanted to see if his skin was as soft as it looked, to know if his hair was as silky as it appeared to be, to feel if his chest was as firm as I remembered.
Okay, I was getting carried away. I mentally shook myself. That feeling was still sitting there inside my chest, warm and powerful. I wished it would just go away.
Callum's eyes were carefully focused away from me. A hazy shade of green was starting to show through the black. "Are you all right?" he asked me.
"Yeah," I sighed. "I'm fine."
"You're bleeding," he stated.
I put my hand on my neck, covering most of the nail marks. Maybe standing in a closed room full of vampires, bleeding from the neck, wasn't such a great idea. "Do you have a bathroom I could use?" I asked.
Ophelia's feminine voice sounded from the door. "I'll show you."
I looked at Callum who nodded. I walked to Ophelia, and she grabbed my hand again. She led me down the hallway, away from the main entrance. We passed about five closed doors until she stopped in front of one. Ophelia's hand slipped from mine, and she opened the door.
"This is the human quarters," she said.
"Humans live here?"
She smiled, amused. "No. They come and go, but they don't live here."
"Why are they here in the first place?" I asked.
Ophelia's hazel eyes twinkled. "We have to feed."
I swallowed. "They—they—" I stuttered "—they're willing to be bitten?"
"Oh, yes! Of course, my Dahlia," she laughed, a tinkling of sound echoing down the hallway. "Mr. Knightley wouldn't have it any other way."
"What do you mean?"
Ophelia pushed me through the door as she said, "My master is somewhat of a humanitarian. He doesn't believe we should harm innocent humans."
We entered an enormous bathroom. Mirrors lined the walls, and there were four sinks, side by side, a shower enclosed in glass, and a huge bathtub. It was decorated lavishly and expensively with antique items and marble surfaces. The scent of potpourri made its way to my nose.
The mirrors reflected my image back. I grimaced at myself. I looked horrible. Ponytail askew, face white as a ghost, clothes rumpled. Ophelia wasn't standing next to me any longer, so I advanced further into the bathroom. Sinking into the overstuffed chair on the right side of the room, I covered my face with my hands.
I didn't know what to think anymore. Two weeks ago, I wouldn't have believed that my life was about to change. The word vampire had hardly been in my vocabulary at the time. Supernatural assassins weren't even a threat. The problems in my life could be dealt with, and I wasn't helpless and insecure like I was now. I could make someone scream until their voice broke without meaning to. I hadn't known I would come to the point where I was scared of myself. Scared of what I could do.
And I hadn't been feeling things I'd never felt before with a vampire. A vampire so beautiful, he was almost an illusion. A vampire who just saved me, but wouldn't look me in the eye.
"He likes you, you know," Ophelia's voice said softly.
I jumped, my head snapping up to look. Ophelia was standing by the door. It was like she hadn't moved at all. My eyes flashed to the mirror across from her, and I saw nothing. She had no reflection. I looked back and forth again, just to make sure. Huh. Liam hadn't told me that one.
"What?" I asked, forgetting what she had just said.
Ophelia smiled at me. Her soft ringlets fell across her shoulders as she walked to the marble counter. She grabbed a washcloth from the towel rack and wet it with water from the sink. She handed it to me, and I pressed it against my neck. "He likes you," she repeated.
Patting the washcloth against the nails gouges, I frowned and said, "Who?"
Ophelia ran a hand down her dress. "Mr. Knightley," she replied lightly.
I smiled disbelievingly and shook my head. "No, I don't think so."
"Well," she said, "I do."
My neck stung as the water penetrated through the broken skin. I winced, but managed to give her a doubtful look. "What makes you think that?"
Ophelia walked back to the door, and turned to look at me. Her rosebud lips were slightly lifted. She laid a hand on the elaborate doorframe, and said, "Aside from the obvious?"
"The obvious?"
"Yes, the obvious," she laughed. "Everything from the jacket to the way he looks at you."
I stood up. "But he won't even look at me."
"You will have to figure that one out yourself, I think."
"How?"
"I would suggest asking him," Ophelia said.
I looked down at the tile floor. I dropped the washcloth in the sink and sighed. I leaned heavily on my elbows, head almost touching the cool marble of the counter.
Ophelia's soft voice drifted to my ears. "Just know this," she said. "I haven't seen him smile in years. But you changed that, my Dahlia. You changed that."
I whipped around, but she was gone.
Chapter 11
* * *
The moonlight streamed through the black clouds, illuminating the winding stone pathway in front of me. On either side of the path lay beds of untamed flowers and bushes. Beyond them were high brick walls that ran farther than I could see. Ivy sneaked up and over them, disappearing over the sides.
The wind was blowing at my back, chilly and piercing. I lifted my face to the sky. It was a canvas of dark sapphire, with clouds stretched out like cotton. The nearly full moon was peeking through them. I could see the craters on its incandescent yellow surface. The glow of the moon was the only source of light in the garden.
A heavy gust of wind came through the backyard, rustling the leaves and whistling past my ear. I hugged myself as I turned to look behind me. At the beginning of the path, the exterior of Mr. Knightley's mansion shone. The stones of the walls were lit up with the moonlight, a glimmering gray colour. The glass door I had come through was still wedged open, the way I had left it. After cleaning up in the bathroom, I had continued further down the corridor in curiosity. The last door had opened up into the garden.
I reached my hand out to touch a rose. It felt soft and velvety under my fingertips. I breathed in deep, smelling the fresh night air and the scent of flowers. It was nice here, peaceful, quiet, soothing. My mind cleared with every moment that passed.
"Do you like it?" a voice soft as silk asked from behind me.
A surprised gasp escaped my mouth as I turned around. The moon touched upon Callum's figure. He was facing away from me, looking down the stone path that led away from the mansion. I could see the wistful, thoughtful expression on his face through the dark.
My fingers left the rose, and I blinked at him. "What?"
Callum's head turned to look past me towards the rose bush. "Do you like the garden?" he asked again.
"It's beautiful," I replied sincerely.
His emerald eyes flickered across my face, momentarily meeting mine. My heart beat skipped as I looked into those beautiful eyes. Even though he had broken eye contact, it was hard to look away. Standing under the night sky, he seemed perfect. Too perfect to be real.
"Dahlia," Callum said, looking at a spot just beneath my elbow, "are you-?"
"I'm fine," I said before he could finish his question.
He nodded, and shifted to look at the house. A dim light had bounced out onto the long grass from a window. He appeared to be mesmerized by it, but I knew it was his way of not meeting my eyes.
I sighed. "Callum," I said gently.
His face lifted into an expression that told me he was listening, but didn't look at me.
"Callum," I said again, a bit more forc
efully.
Callum looked to the right of my face. I took a step towards him, but his eyes remained where they were. "Why won't you look at me?" I whispered into the wind.
A fleeting expression of sadness and distress crossed his face. It stayed only for a moment, but I knew what really lay beneath his blank mask. He turned so I could only see his profile, crossed his arms, and looked at the dark blue sky.
"Are you scared of me?" I breathed, my eyes dropping to the ground to stare at the large cobblestones of the path.
"No," Callum said quickly. "No, it's nothing like that."
"Then what?" I asked in a shaking voice. "Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?"
Without me catching any movement, Callum was standing one foot away from me. "No, Dahlia. You didn't do anything," he said intently. "It's me. It was me who did nothing."
I raised my head. I tried to decipher his expression and understand what he meant, but all I saw was remorse and self-loathing. "What do you mean?" I asked.
His voice was barely audible when he spoke. "Tonight was the third time."
"Third time for what?"
"The third time I failed to keep you safe."
"Oh," I breathed, expression softening. "Oh, Callum, no."
Through the darkness, he gave me a pained look. "I should have seen him coming. He just caught me off guard. Then he went after you-" he cut himself off, swallowing visibly.
"We've already had this conversation," I said. "I'm fine. It doesn't matter."
Callum closed his eyes, and said, "You say it doesn't matter, but it does. I can't seem to keep you from getting hurt. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dahlia."
My heart wrenched when I saw the pain and shame. I reached up and touched his cheek without thinking. His skin was cool and smooth, and softer than I could have ever imagined. His eyes fluttered open in surprise. They finally met mine, and a sense of pure happiness and serenity filled me.
Death of Night Page 15