“Nine?” I felt my eyes grow round. “There are nine vampires here?” Perhaps staying wasn't such a great idea.
Ben smiled encouragingly. “None of us will hurt you, Charlotte. Lucas will not allow it.”
“And he's… in charge?”
“He is our leader, yes.” Ben glanced at his watch and stood up. “Speaking of Lucas, I must go and find him.”
“He's angry with me.” I'd caused his abrupt departure from the room earlier, without saying a word I'd obviously made my terror and revulsion patently obvious.
Ben shook his head and patted my arm, and I was calm enough not to flinch. “No, not angry. He's hurt and confused. He's sure you think he's a fiend and he's gone out into the woods to think. I believe if I explain what you and I have been talking about; it might help him to see that things aren't so bad.”
“Would you tell him I'd like to see him?” I paused, considering this unusual turn of events. “Could you tell him— I'm very sorry – about how I reacted.”
“Of course. In the meantime, Rowena is on her way up, she's bringing a meal for you.” He leaned over and whispered. “Please try and be patient with her, she's desperate to care for you and I would very much appreciate you letting her have her way for a little bit. She does love having someone to care for, and we vampires don't need a lot of mothering.”
I nodded cautiously, wide-eyed as he flashed me another brilliant smile.
Chapter 7: Rowena
True to Ben's word, Rowena went out of her way to mother me. When she entered the room carrying a tray of food, I recognized her to be the woman who'd knelt by Ben when they'd rescued me in the woods. She was extremely attractive, petite and stylishly dressed in a pale green silk shirt and a dark gray skirt, which skimmed her slender hips. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck and her hazel eyes glowed with flashes of silver as she approached.
“Jerome tells me you need something light, so I thought some chicken soup and then jelly and ice-cream. Is that alright?” Her accent was the one I'd heard when the others were speaking earlier; there was a slight foreign lilt to her voice, which was both lyrical and charming. She graced me with a generous smile as she settled the tray on a hospital-style trolley and rolled it towards me.
I nodded, smiling shyly as Rowena assisted me to sit up in bed. Her eyes were troubled as she assessed how much pain I was enduring, fussing, and adjusting the pillows until I was reasonably comfortable. “I'll leave you to eat.”
“No, please. I'd like you to stay – if you wouldn't mind.” It had been a long time since any person had mothered me and Rowena made me feel at ease, despite the knowledge of what she was.
She settled in the chair Ben had vacated, watching as I picked up the spoon and tasted the soup. It was delicious and I commented on it.
She beamed with delight. “I'm so pleased. Cooking doesn't come naturally to me.”
“Really, it's great,” I reassured her. I spooned some more soup into my mouth, savoring the rich creamy taste. “You don't like cooking?”
She settled back in the chair, crossing her legs gracefully. “I've never had much opportunity to cook, my family had kitchen staff to do that sort of thing, and of course, food is obsolete now, so I've never really had the opportunity to learn.” She glanced up, caught my blank expression, and continued with an ironic smile. “We don't eat human food.”
I blushed, realizing exactly to what she was alluding. “Of course. I mean, I— Yes. Of course.” I didn't know what else to say and returned my attention to the soup. After a few more spoonfuls, another thought crossed my mind and I spoke again, curious about the elegant woman sitting beside me. “I hope this isn't a rude question, but I'm wondering why you said you hadn't eaten in many years? How can that be? You don't look any older than I am.”
Rowena glanced across at the window, a tiny smile playing against her lips. “I was born in 1852, Charlotte. If I celebrated human birthdays, I would be one hundred and fifty six.”
My mouth dropped open and I knew I was staring at her, but couldn't seem to prevent it. The enormity of what she was suggesting was difficult to comprehend. At most, she couldn't possibly be a day over twenty-five.
“I was made vampire in 1873. Once you are raised as vampire, you no longer age – I was twenty one when I was bitten and I've remained physically the same age since then,” Rowena explained calmly.
My knowledge of vampires was rudimentary, but I couldn't even begin to grasp how someone could remain twenty-one for decades. My head had been throbbing since I woke up, but now it felt closer to exploding as I endeavored to process this glut of new information.
Rowena smoothly steered the conversation towards more trivial subjects while I finished the meal and I enjoyed the pleasant company she offered. She helped settle me back in bed – another round of agony for me, a second round of apologies from her – and collected the tray, before quietly leaving the room.
Staring at the pendant lamp, I tried to absorb the information I'd been inundated with during the past hour. I had a million questions, thousand of thoughts pouring into my mind, until I seriously questioned if my head could explode from the overload. Tapping my fingers anxiously against the plaster cast on my arm, I watched the sparkling facets of the lamp as I thought over everything I'd learned.
There was another soft knock at the door and I turned towards the sound cautiously. Lucas stood in the doorway, his expression solemn. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a black sweater, the sleeves pushed up around his elbows. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” I made an effort to sit up and groaned, giving up the idea as a bad joke.
Lucas reached my side in a second, faster than was possible for a normal man. Alarm was evident in his expression. “Is there anything I can do? Should I get help?”
“No,” I reassured him, shaking my head while I breathed through the pain. “I'm okay.”
“You most certainly are not okay,” he replied gruffly. “If you had died…” He left the sentence unfinished and his dark blue eyes filled with torment. There were bruise-like rings around his eyes and he seemed deeply troubled by the predicament in which I found myself.
I reached out to touch his hand, which he was resting on the metal rail surrounding the bed. I wanted to reassure him that he wasn't at fault, but he dropped his hand to his side immediately. His aroma drifted over me, making my heart beat unevenly. The thumping in my chest reminded me that when Lucas was nearby, I felt more alive than I had in a very long time and yet, he was capable of killing me. It was quite the conundrum to deal with in my head.
“I know your hands are cold,” I said quietly. “Ben told me why. Please, don't be afraid to let me touch you.”
For a second he stared at me, before his mouth twisted into an incredulous grin. “You want me – to not be frightened of you?”
I grinned sheepishly. “Ironic, isn't it?”
“Indeed it is. Extremely ironic. And here I was, thinking you should be frightened of me.” His expression sobered and he lifted his arm, running his fingertips lightly down my cheek, before taking my hand. His skin was cold and yet deeply comforting against my own warm fingers.
“I'm not frightened of you.” I paused, considering my words carefully. I never lied convincingly and a peek at his impassive face had me admitting the truth. “Well, maybe I am. A little. But I understand more after speaking to Ben and Marianne. I have a lot of questions,” I admitted bashfully.
“I'm sure you do,” Lucas agreed. “I believe there is nothing I cannot answer; now you know the truth. I couldn't tell you what I was, it's information we never divulge to humans. Now that you have discovered for yourself what I am, I will happily answer your questions. Nevertheless,” he warned softly, “keep in mind that I have some questions of my own.” He studied my face, seeing the troubled look in my eyes and hastened to reassure me. “I think we could leave mine for now though, I'm sure yours are far more important after yesterday's events.” He
settled on the chair beside the bed, leaning forward so he could retain his grip on my hand. “Okay, I'm ready. Fire away.”
Given the opportunity to seek answers, I struggled to know where to start. There were so many things I wanted to know, and so many things to understand. It seemed the best place to start was the beginning.
“How did you know my name? Is it something to do with— Marianne?”
He frowned, eyeing me speculatively. “How do you know about Marianne?”
I was positive it would be better to be candid. “I woke earlier, when you were talking. I didn't open my eyes because I was scared. I heard you say Marianne knew you were going to meet me.”
His expression relaxed and my heart stumbled as I gazed at him. He smiled knowingly and I attempted to drag my eyes away, to concentrate on something other than the brilliant blue of his eyes. The effort was a complete failure. “Marianne has the ability to see some future events. She told me about you some months ago, knew your name was Charlotte and she thought you were someone who would be very important in my existence.” He shook his head ruefully. “Of course, she never mentioned I was going to hit you with my car.”
“Can she predict everybody's future?”
“No. She can't read humans, she saw you because you were destined to come into my existence. It's a useful talent, but certainly not perfect. In Marianne's case, it is completely haphazard most of the time, there's neither rhyme nor reason to her visions, sometimes she goes weeks without anything, at other times she gets a number of visions together. What she sees are distorted images, which she interprets to try to comprehend their meaning. So you can't ever be certain that what Marianne foresees will actually eventuate. And,” he added deliberately, “if people contemplate ending their lives, it makes it difficult to read their future.”
I looked away, uncomfortable with his gentle probing. “I'm not thinking about ending my life right now.”
“But you have,” he pointed out. “I knew what you were doing at the falls, Charlotte. Marianne warned me.”
I lapsed into silence and he didn't press the subject further, squeezing my hand instead. “I'm sure you have more questions,” he coaxed.
“How can you run so fast? When you brought me to your house, you ran so far and you didn't even work up a sweat.”
He contemplated my question for just a moment. “You noticed then. Damn and I was trying so hard to keep my movement human.” He smiled again and my heart did a crazy flip-flop in my chest. “We have some special talents, Charlotte. Part of what we are gives us abilities far beyond normal human capabilities. Perhaps it would be better to wait until you recover and I can show you.”
“Tell me and I'll try to understand.” I didn't want to wait, was eager to comprehend as much as I could now I'd been introduced to his world.
He sighed heavily and glanced away, a shadow of discontent crossing his face. “I don't want to frighten you,” he admitted, his voice bleak.
“I think I trust you. Ben told me you won't hurt me.”
He glanced up and I noticed the shadows around his eyes had darkened considerably. “Ben has great faith in my self-control. Probably far too much,” he responded bitterly.
I shivered, but continued to hold his hand. “Explain it to me. Please.”
Lucas lifted his other hand, enclosing mine between both of his. He gazed at me and I could see how he battled against himself. He seemed to want to tell me the truth, but was clearly anxious about my reaction. I steeled myself, determined to retain my composure.
He started talking, keeping his voice level and calm but there was shame behind his confession. “We are designed to be hunters, everything about us is intended to catch and kill our victims.” I shuddered inwardly, but kept my composure when he continued, choosing his words carefully. “Part of what I am gives me extraordinary abilities, far beyond normal human capability. I can run faster than almost any creature on earth. My sense of smell, eyesight, and hearing – all are significantly heightened and designed to hunt. I have more strength than ten human men, enough power to incapacitate and kill any victim I choose.”
This time I couldn't hide the tremble, which shuddered through my limbs, recalling how easily Ambrose had broken my arm, snapping the bones like matchsticks.
Lucas stopped for a minute, giving me time to compose myself and when he began again, he seemed reconciled to telling me everything. “I can trail prey over great distances, pick up their scent, and stalk them. I can chase a victim for miles, sneak up on them silently, and give no clue of my position. My ability to run is limitless and most prey is incapable of outrunning me. By the time they are aware of impending danger, they're already dead or dying.” He stopped speaking, his body rigid with tension as he waited for my response.
I knew he'd just explained how easily he could kill me. Despite this knowledge, I wanted to trust him, felt a smidgeon of confidence that he wouldn't harm me. He certainly had shown no desire to hurt me up until now. But there were questions that remained unanswered and I verbalized my thoughts.
“Have you— do you— how many—” I faltered. I'd intended to ask the question concisely and couldn't seem to find the right words to voice what I needed to know. Lucas seemed aware of what I was trying to ask, but I was terrified of the reply.
“Charlotte, you must understand – this is what I am, this is what I was intended to do. For many years, I had no way to stop myself from doing what came naturally. Killing humans, draining their blood, it was what I was designed to do, my only choice in this existence. I did kill, murdered many innocent people in cold blood. The only thing I considered in those years was my own needs, my own desires, and the desperate craving for blood. As time passed, my humanity began to reassert itself and I suffered intense guilt over what I'd inflicted upon others. There was no way to stop it, but I was determined to learn how to control it, choose my victims with more deliberation.”
He was choosing his words with less caution now, seeming intent on ensuring I knew every unsavory thing about his past. “I hunted at night, stalking the dregs of humanity – rapists, murderers – humans whom I decided didn't deserve to live.” He laughed dryly, the sound harsh and hollow in the quiet room. “I made myself judge, jury and executioner, Charlotte. I became a vigilante and decided who lived and who died, based on my own questionable morals and the crushing guilt, which overwhelmed my every step. And of course, my own frantic craving for human blood, which negated every damn excuse for the choices I made. Still I wasn't happy. As much as these people were the lowest common denominator of humanity, they were people with family and friends. Loved ones who cared for them, no matter what they had done in their lives. And I was murdering them, leaving their friends and family to mourn.” He rubbed my hand tenderly between his and I could sense his despair, as if it were a physical entity in the room with us.
“Couldn't you just drink a little? Leave them alive?” I couldn't believe I was having this conversation, the whole exchange seemed surreal.
He shook his head mournfully. “The desire for blood is a feeding frenzy, Charlotte. Whilst we feed, our only focus is the blood and the almost orgasmic pleasure that comes from drinking it. To leave someone alive is a miracle. Some can do it. Most can't.”
“Then how do people become vampires?” I thought of the few vampire movies I'd seen, which portrayed vampires as being created through the bite of another vampire. You were bitten, and you got the vampirism. Surely, not every victim died? How did you get more vampires that way? For one brief and bizarre moment, I realized I was using the imaginary aspects of filmmaking, to try to understand something mythological, which I hadn't believed existed in the first place. Until now.
“Vampires are created when a victim is drained to the point of death, then force fed blood from the vampire's own body.”
“You can bleed?” I questioned. That wasn't in the movies. Then I remembered Ambrose and how the blood had sprayed from his neck after Lucas decapitated him. Nausea welle
d in my stomach as I realized the movies didn't have it right, at all.
Lucas smirked. “Not exactly. After we have fed, blood is accessible in our bodies for a few days. To create a new vampire, you must drain them to the point of death, then bite into your own body and allow them to drink from you. The blood is changed after it has been in our bodies; the simplest explanation is that it has been contaminated with vampirism.”
“You feed their blood back to them, but it's different after you've ingested it?”
“Yes.”
“And then they're a vampire?”
Lucas sighed. “Not exactly. The transformation takes three days. The body of the victim must be buried and on the third night, they will rise as vampire. If they have survived the transformation process.”
I was getting off-track here, dealing with things I neither wanted to know, nor needed to know now. “So what did you do?”
“I began to experiment on both myself and victims, I'm afraid. Trying to discover a way of feeding without murdering, testing theories and building on my determination to live a more peaceful life. As I mentioned, drinking blood is comparable to sexual orgasm. I began to wonder if I could use sex as a diversion, if I could divert my attention with sexual release, then feed from my victim and perhaps my need to drain completely could be avoided. Of course, it was a double-edged sword because I needed to feed more regularly to ensure my thirst wasn't at its worst point when I approached a woman.”
He glanced up, no doubt seeing the flush of embarrassment which covered my exposed skin. “My apologies, Charlotte, I'm embarrassing you.” He brushed his fingers across my cheek. “You blush so beautifully.”
Swallowing deeply I looked away, cursing the blush which had been the bane of my life. “Did it work?” I couldn't prevent a rush of jealousy, knowing Lucas had slept with other women. Probably a lot of other women.
“It was not a viable solution. The desire for sex and blood are deeply intertwined and after a couple of attempts, I dismissed it.” He squeezed my fingers gently and I regained enough composure to face him again.
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