He sank his teeth into his own flesh and bit, opening up a horrid, pale pinkish wound. His blood was dark, thick, like it had time to set up or dry out. It oozed down his arm and I was dying and he held it to his mouth and I watched his throat bob as he drew his own blood from the wound and snapped back down.
I tried to turn away. I tried to die but he wouldn’t let me. He pushed his lips to mine and his cold tongue forced my lips open and then the blood came, cold and hot, mine mingled with his, and he mashed his lips to mine until, on pure instinct, I swallowed.
A chunk of something slid down my throat. I felt it slip through my wound. It was moving inside me, ice cold, like I’d bitten off a squirmy, rubbery sliver of a glacier and gulped it down. It fluttered in my chest, hard and scratchy and I could hear it, like a moth caught between glass and a door, fluttering.
He ran his hand down my cheek as gentle as a lover, smearing my skin with cold blood.
“Mine.”
Chapter Five
I’m dimly aware that I’m screaming and that powerful arms have locked around me, trapping my hands to my chest.
“Christine, it’s over.”
“It’s not over. It’s never over.”
I can’t stop screaming, and sobbing. I feel tracks on my cheeks, feather light scratches, and when I touch my fingers to my skin they come away pink. I’m weeping blood. I pinch my eyes shut and will it to stop but my eyes are burning. It was like I was really there. It’s dark in the room now but he has the fire going, crackling and throwing long shadows across the carpet. We’re on the bed. I’m in his lap.
He’s very warm, and strong. Too strong.
Too strong to be human.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe now. No one can get you here.”
“No one but you,” I push him away and slide away on the bed. “Don’t touch me like that again.”
It’s hard to see his face in the dark, but easy to see his expression crumple. He stands up and goes back to his chair, flops down, and pulls that notebook onto his lap. I sit on the bed in a twisted tangle of quilts and sheets, swiping at my face and leaving long red tracks on my forearms. He tosses me a damp towel and I take it, and clean myself off. The white terrycloth turns pink before I finish with it and throw it on the floor.
“What happened to you is not your fault. There was no way you could have stopped him.”
I can’t look at him. I stare down at my feet and wiggle my toes inside the scuffed toe-caps of my sneakers.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“No, it’s not. I understand how you feel.”
“You don’t understand shit. You don’t know what’s it’s like to be pinned down and… and I begged him to stop and he did it anyway. He thought it was funny.”
My head droops and I can barely choke the words out. I don’t even know why I’m telling him. I don’t owe this son of a bitch an explanation.
“He made me like him.”
“That’s not true.”
I look over and glare. “How do you know? Maybe I enjoy hurting people. Maybe I like it.”
“I already know you don’t.”
“You’re right,” I shout, my voice tightening. “You’re right, I don’t. I hate it. Drinking blood makes me want to puke. I can’t stand it. Every time I do it, I’m like him. It’s like that night over and over again. He didn’t violate me once, it happens every time I have to feed. He… he made me this.”
He closes the book.
“I promised if you answered my questions I’d answer you yours. I can tell you what you are.”
I rest my chin on my knees. “Will it help me stop?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t care.”
“You are nosferatu. The undead.”
“I knew that already.” I can’t help but laugh. “I’m a vampire.”
“You think that’s funny?”
“Vampires aren’t real.”
He doesn’t get the joke. He just slumps in his seat. “There are seven species of hemophagic theriomorphs.”
“Hemowhatic what?”
“Blood drinking supernatural beings.”
“So there’s six other kinds?”
“No, five. The other kind is extinct. I hope.”
I couldn’t help it. My interest was piqued.
“What are the other kinds?”
He sits back in the chair and folds his legs. His foot does that thing again, his toes circling in the air, and I get that feeling yet again. That sensation that I can remember remembering something. I turn away.
“It is said that long, long ago, before recorded history, the world was ruled by noble houses of sorcerer-kings. Terrible, cruel monsters that enslaved nations, but they were mortal and in time even they would die.”
I snort. “Let me guess. One of them made himself a vampire to be immortal.”
He shakes his head. “No, worse. One of the darkest and cruelest of these sorcerer kings, the most brutal and monstrous, had a bright spot in the depths of his black soul. He came to love a mortal girl, a normal human being. They say she changed him, and his kingdom changed with him. In those days the king was the kingdom, and he could breathe in royalty and reshape the land itself. The other sorcerer-kings could not bear the greatest among them turning from the path of darkness, so together they combined their eldritch might to kill this girl that had tainted the most powerful of their number.”
I fold my arms and lean back. It’s stupid, but it’s an amusing story, at least.
“Then what?”
“The sorcerer-king was not one to give up what was his lightly. He placed his love under a spell, a rupture in time. She was sealed in a coffin where time was frozen, one instant away from death brought on by the curse of the other sorcerer-kings. Then in his rage, he rose up and slew them all, cast them down and broke their places of power, and the reign of the sorcerer-kings was ended, save for one.
“His realm became an even darker, harrowed place as his rage and despair grew. One by one, he performed a series of experiments, seeking a way to unnaturally extend the girl’s life and spare her the horrible death awaiting her when his magic ran out. Each one of those experiments birthed a monster, a tainted being that could only survive by feeding on the blood of the living. He saw each as a failure and threw them out of his realm, into the lawless world, where they found demonic spirits and dying gods to act as their patrons. It was the final experiment that brought about his end.
“By then he had no subjects for his vile rituals, and so he subjected himself to the torturous ritual he devised. If it worked, he would restore his love and together they would rise from death to take vengeance on the world.
“By then the sorcerer-kings of old were dust, and the results of his experiments came to rule over men and carved out kingdoms of their own. They recognized the great sin that their creator had undertaken, and knew he had to be stopped.
“Together the six paragons of the vampire races gathered their most powerful children and besieged the sorcerer-king’s fortress as he finished his ritual, and he was slain, but at terrible cost.
“The rulers of the six houses gave up their lives and the energies they had consumed to form the walls of his prison and lock him away from the world. They carried away the time-wound coffin and buried it deep in the earth in grief, in final tribute to their master, to forever keep his love one moment away from death, for in her own way, she was their mother.”
“Okay,” I say. “Then what happened to them?”
The light from the fire catches his eyes. They were blue before. Now they’re an eerie, unnatural color. Yellow-gold, and the in the firelight his pupils close into slits.
Like a snake.
“There was a war. Leaderless, the vampire clans threw themselves at each other, the most powerful each hoping to carve out a kingdom for himself. The battle was so terrible that the lesser vampires feared they would go extinct and die the final death. So they, in turn, overthrew the cl
an leaders, and a pact was made. They formed the Parliament Sanguine, the ruling council of all vampires, and sealed in blood the Great Pact, a sacred body of law no vampire may violate. The world was divided between five of the six houses. The sixth house, the nosferatu or undead, refused to join, and became outcasts, driven into dark, wild places.”
“How come nobody knows about this?”
He gets up and walks over. I watch his movements as he sits on the bed and folds his legs under himself, and looks at me.
“Remember history class?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He smiles, softly. “Think about the ancient Egyptian Pharaohs. The people worshipped them as gods.”
“So?”
“So, they were gods, in a way. They were the ash-lords of old Khemri, the living dead who ruled the cradle of civilization. All the royal houses of the ancient near-east were the ash-kings. Now there are none left. Some of the houses went East to Asia, some fled across the Atlantic to South America to become feathered gods and eat the hearts of sacrifices. Some went to Europe. On the Italian peninsula the serpent-lords ruled the Etruscans, and then the Roman Empire.”
I try to swallow the lump in my throat.
“You talk like I should know all this already.”
“Your sire is supposed to teach you. As mine taught me.”
I recoil against the wall. “You. You’re a vampire?”
I expect him to smile, but there’s only sorrow in his expression. “Yes. There was no other choice.”
“Did they… did they force you?”
“Not exactly. It’s complicated.”
“What kind are you? You’re not like me, are you?”
He shakes his head.
“No. I am a lamia, one of the serpent lords of old Etrusci.”
“Serpent. Like a snake.”
He nods.
“I hate snakes. They’re icky.”
“I know,” he says, and for the first time since I met him I hear a hint of a laugh in his voice. “I know, but it’s a better option than the alternatives, trust me.”
I don’t realize I’m smiling until the expression fades from my face.
“What do you know about me? How I… work.”
“The nosferatu were cursed at the great battle to forever fear the light of day. The un-dead cannot bear its touch without burning and prolonged exposure leads to spontaneous combustion.”
“I know that,” I say. “You did a good job of reminding me of it.”
“Christine, everything that I’m doing I’m doing for a reason. I promise you will understand.”
“I don’t believe you. What else is there? Tell me the rest.”
“You don’t want to hear it. Maybe another time when you’re ready.”
“What happens to me when I die?”
He swallows. I see the strain in his expression.
My voice shrinks down, but I have to ask. I might finally hear it from somebody that knows.
“Is it like when I sleep? Is it just… nothing, or is it…” my voice cracks. “Will I go to hell because I’ve been bad?”
Lightly, he runs fingers through my hair. I shudder.
“That wouldn’t be very fair, would it?”
“No,” I whisper.
“I wish I could tell you more. I can’t answer that one.”
“Can’t, or wont?”
“One more question. Then you need to rest.”
I don’t want to ask. I’m afraid, because I already know the answer.
“Is there a cure? Can this be fixed? Can I be like I was?”
He’s quiet for a while. He looks at his folded hands and sighs.
“No. You can’t be put back like you were. It doesn’t work that way. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry.”
“Get out,” I hiss. “Get away from me.”
“Promise me you’ll get some rest.”
“I’m not going to promise you anything. I don’t know who you are and I don’t owe you anything. Leave me alone.”
“As you wish.”
There it is again. Echoes. Something shivers just out of my reach and is gone before I grasp it.
The fire is still crackling as he picks up his notebook and closes the door behind him. I hear it lock with a metallic crunch, but when I think of testing the lock there’s a pulse around my neck and I feel the collar tighten. No, I’m not going to try to escape. For a time I sit up and watch the fire. The truth is, I do feel tired. It’s at once familiar and alien, this weariness in my head and my muscles.
Something makes me pick up the bloodied cloth and toss it in the sink in the bathroom, before it stains the carpet. While I’m there I decide to change my clothes. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to sleep in jeans anymore. It makes more sense to put on a pair of underwear and a long, loose t-shirt with Spider-Man on the front.
As I hold the garment out in front of me I can’t help but notice the spots where it’s gone threadbare and is wearing through, and the holes under the arms.
I drape the cool cloth over my skin and wonder why he’s making me wear someone else’s clothes.
When I step back out in the bedroom I can’t help but glance at the empty bookcase. I wonder if he would give me something to read if I asked. There’s no television in here, nothing to do. Finally, I end up lying down. I stare up at the ceiling and my eyes drift closed.
It’s warm in here. I tuck the covers up around my chin and look over at the fire. It burns steadily, but it’s shrinking now. I hate fire, I don’t know why I don’t try to put it out, but I can almost feel the warmth soaking into my skin. Maybe it’s my imagination.
I close my eyes.
I sleep.
Then I wake up.
It’s different this time. I have to drag my eyes open and I feel groggy when I sit up and run my fingers through my hair. I’m alone when I wake up. The fire is out, but I can still smell the smokey tang in the air. I don’t need to look to know it’s dark outside. I’m just getting up when the knock comes at the door. I freeze, and wait. The knock comes again.
Naturally, I go over and open it.
He’s waiting outside.
“Can I come in?”
I tilt my head to the side and bite my lip.
“What if I say no?”
“I’ll leave.”
I weigh my options. The dead fireplace. The empty bookcase. I step back and let the door swing open. I hear music drifting faintly down the hall, but I can’t hear it well enough to identify the song. A man’s voice, that’s all I can make out before the door swings shut. I reach for the door before I stop myself, feeling the weight of the collar around my neck. I retreat to the bed while he sits down and opens his notebook, subtly but covetously keeping the contents from me.
“Can you go out in daylight?”
“I haven’t asked you any questions yet. That’s not how our game works.”
I sneer and put on my best old man voice. “Quid pro quo, Clarice. Yes or no.”
Startled, he looks at me in silent shock for a moment and I see the ghost of a smile whisper across his face before he looks down.
“Yes, I don’t fear the daylight, but it makes us… me weaker.”
“Us?”
“That’s two questions. I’ve given you a freebie in good faith. Now you’ve got to answer one of mine.”
With a huff, I lie back on the bed and look at my fingers.
“Okay, what?”
“What happened after he turned you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to remember that.”
His chair creaks as he leans forward.
“You have to. You need to come to terms with it.”
“Why? It hurts. I can’t do that again. It’s like… it’s like I’m there again. I don’t know what you did to me, but I want it to stop. I don’t want to remember these things. Just let them go.”
He sighs in exasperation.
“I can’t explain why right now. I need you to trust
me. What we’re doing here is very important. If it works, I can set you free.”
“Free? Free from what? I asked you if there’s a cure and you said no.”
“I can’t undo the curse, but,” he sighs, “Christine, you’re very… vulnerable right now. I can protect you, but I need your help.”
“Protect me? Who’ll protect me from you?”
He sinks back into the chair and cradles his head in his hands. I catch a glimpse of that notebook. There’s something wrong about it. When he realizes I’m looking he snatches it up and leans back so I can’t see.
“I want to help you,” he says, and his voice is even but I can feel him fighting to keep it that way. “If you cooperate, I can help you get better, and I’ll make things more comfortable for you here. I’ll bring you some books to read, you can watch movies. I’ll keep you fed.”
“You make it sound like you want me to be some kind of pet.” I pluck at the collar and look him in the eye.
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like? What do you want from me?”
“If I tell you, I’ll never have it.”
What the hell does that mean? Damn it, whatever, who cares.
“He ripped my throat open with his teeth. Then he bit off part of his wrist and made me swallow it. Blood, too. Then I died. It got worse from there.”
Chapter Six
I woke up like I’d never woken up before.
My eyes popped open. I didn’t feel groggy or sleepy, and I had no real sense that I was sleeping. When I sat up and moved, I was sure I was in a dream, the way dreams just start and stop with no logic or continuity. I was lying on a cold tile floor in a dark room, completely covered in blood. Old blood that turned to rust, crusted my clothes and stuck to my skin.
Remembering the feeling of teeth pressing into my flesh until it burst and tore, I clutched my throat, but felt only smooth skin. Cold, smooth skin, as cold as ice. I stood up, and my bare feet slipped on the floor. With a start, I realized it was dark. Pitch black, but I could still see. Everything was painted in off-color silvery hues, like an old picture. When the door swung open I hissed through my teeth and covered my eyes from the painful intensity of the light.
Thrall (A Vampire Romance) Page 5