“Lucinda. You're still bleeding, let me stop it for you. I'm sorry, I scared you, I got carried away, but I have to stop that bleeding. Now.”
I reached my own hand up jerkily to my neck and pulled it away when I felt warm liquid run down my fingers. I stared at the red blood as it tracked its way down my hand, over my wrist and under the sleeve of my jacket. So red, so much of it. I felt a little dizzy at the sight of it and it had nothing to do with the fact it was mine. I knew I hated blood, all blood, but I couldn't remember why. I had a sudden flashback to a man lying covered in blood at my feet, then it was gone. The abruptness of the memory shocked me, but in its wake all I felt was a deep seated fear and sudden sense of pure loss.
I looked up at Jonathan and he paled at the look on my face. “Let me make this right.” He spoke softly and slowly, so as not to frighten me. I just nodded, still dazed and stunned and hollow.
He crawled toward me and carefully reached out to hold the back of my neck. “I will need to bring my face in against you. I have retracted my fangs.” He smiled to show me they were gone. “I promise you, no harm will come to you. I will merely seal the puncture wounds. OK?”
I nodded again, unable to voice any concerns, unable to see anything other than blood.
He leaned his head in slowly, but the actual licking over the wounds was fast. He moved right away and sat across from me, just watching my face.
From moments before to now, seemed like an eternity. I had felt like I had come so far and that things were getting better. I still didn't have my memories, but I was beginning to feel a sense of calm at where I was and who I was with. Now, it all felt like a storm tossed sea and I was once again so lost.
Jonathan was very quiet on the trip back to the property and for the next few days. He began to return to more of his normal self some time later, but we never had another trip away and he never tried to kiss me, let alone bite me, again. A line had been crossed and we both knew it. For me, it had been a revelation, it had woken me up from a dream. I was no longer accepting of my surroundings, I was questioning absolutely everything all over again. I could only presume Jonathan didn't want to rush me, as he returned to his attentive, caring, but distant self.
I was happy with that, but having had a taste of freedom I craved for more.
However, my mind might have wanted another road trip, but my body could not have agreed. Three weeks after I arrived I was fading. Not only had a depressive cloud stolen any light I may have had, I was tired only hours after waking and my appetite was getting less and less.
On the fourth week, almost one month after the start of my new life, things changed. By this stage I had stopped eating almost completely. Jonathan tried liquid foods, bland foods, cold, raw, fresh, organic, anything he could think of to make me eat, but I just couldn't keep much down. And with the lack of food came an even greater sense of exhaustion, although the exhaustion had started well before the inability to eat began. I was so frail, so weak and had lost so much weight that even my renewed plans of escape seemed like climbing Mount Everest.
Finally, Jonathan called a doctor in to assess me. He was a vampire - I knew this as soon as he entered the room - and he was short. Really short, like shorter than me and that's saying something. I'm only 5'4” tall, so this guy was practically a midget.
He had done his doctorly thing and they were standing out on the landing. I had fallen asleep by the end of the exam, so maybe Jonathan thought I was still out cold and that's why he hadn't moved further away before confronting the doctor. He looked tired and ragged, as though the thought of me being ill was hurting him too. I felt a little sad then, that I wasn't better. Not for me and my once again fervent plans of escape, but to make Jonathan happy. I knew it was wrong, he was holding me, still drugging me, against my will. And after the kissing and biting episode, he just didn't feel right, but he had also been so caring, so loving and had done nothing else untoward to me since that fateful Red Rocks concert night.
Drugs and imprisonment were more than enough though, weren't they?
As I listened to them talk over the results of the examination my head lolled to the side and before I could close my eyes again I spotted it. A slim, shiny, sharp knife on the tray the doctor had been using. He had used it to open something when he had examined me and had placed it to the side and then forgot it when he packed up to leave. It wasn't silver, stainless steel, but it was long enough and sharp enough to do damage. I grabbed it quietly and slipped it beneath my pillow. I was armed.
Jonathan's strained voice floated in from the hall. “She is exhausted. She won't eat or sleep properly. She is fading away. Have we made a mistake with the medications?”
“No sire. It is not the medication. Her body is pining for her kindred. The longer they are apart the worse it will get.”
“Why didn't we...” I didn't hear the rest of what Jonathan was saying, as soon as the short vampire had uttered that word kindred, my world had sharpened and also conversely collapsed.
Kindred.
Michel.
Chapter 6
No More Mr Nice Guy
I tried not to sit bolt upright and did manage to stop myself from making any sudden movements that would give me away. I could do nothing for my rapidly beating heart however. It was trying vainly to escape my rib cage. At the thought of Michel so many memories came flooding back in. Not all of them, I was sure, but the main one, the one that kept dancing before my eyes, kept making my heart skip a beat, was of Michel. My Michel.
I knew he was my vampire and no one else came close.
Oh dear God, what the hell had happened?
Putting it all together was a little harder than picturing my kindred's face now seemed to be. Obviously, Michel was where ever we had come from on the plane. It had been a long flight, but how long, I could not know, as I had slept most of it. The fact that I had been so stiff towards the end, just before I received my last sleeping tablet dose, confirmed that. Secondly, Jonathan was not, nor had he ever been, my husband. We shared nothing together that I could see, so he had abducted me, but why?
I was still having trouble remembering what I used to do, who I used to be, where I used to live. But, I did know I was meant to be with Michel, so that was where I had to go. I shifted in the bed to test my limbs. Everything felt sluggish, terribly unresponsive. I was in bad shape, but I hadn't felt this invigorated since arriving here in these mountains. I had no other plans, other than my original one. Arm myself, done. Escape and get the hell outta here before the vampires can follow.
I sensed it was almost dawn and as I had been awake on and off for the past night, restless and nauseous most of the time. Despite being so tired, I hadn't received my end of night sleeping tablets crushed in my meal, nor my injection. I knew it was a long shot, but if I was going to make a break for it, it had to be today. I could only imagine things were going to get worse from here on out and surprisingly, the thought alone of my kindred seemed to give me not only renewed hope, but a renewed strength, almost as though I was getting a boost from somewhere, as though someone above had decided to lend a hand.
The shutters whirred down not long afterwards and some ten minutes later, when I knew the sun had well and truly risen, Jonathan came back in the room. I had not sat myself up, although I felt I could have managed it now, but I had shifted the knife into my hand and held it concealed under my bed covers.
“You're still awake, sweetheart. Can I get you anything?”
“You know, I think I could try another herbal tea. I feel a little thirsty.”
He smiled and came over to the bedside. “That's good news.” He sat down on the edge, right next to the knife in my hand. I willed myself not to stiffen and forced one even breath in after another. Show no fear.
His hand came up and brushed my hair out of my eyes. He still looked like he cared so much. I was sure that wasn't an act. Everything else might have been lies, but what he felt for me was the truth. Why? Just because he had been charged with looking a
fter me? It didn't make sense, but then it didn't need to. I needed to get away, not solve any god-damn mystery.
“I am sorry you have been unwell, sweetheart. We overlooked something.” He shook his head and looked down at the bed covers. For a moment I thought he could see the shape of the knife through the material and I actually held my breath.
“We're working on a solution, we'll have you fighting fit again before you know it. I promise.” His eyes came up to my face and there was such a look of intensity there, it made me blink. It also made me breathe again, thankfully.
I forced a smile on my face and let him kiss me on my forehead, hopefully he hadn't noticed the thin film of sweat which had started coating my skin, or maybe he just put it down to my illness.
He got up then and turned to the door. “I'll grab you that tea.”
He closed the door behind him and I waited to hear the lock click. It didn't and my heart thumped loudly in relief. I waited a full two minutes then got up gingerly from the bed. When the world didn't tilt, I rushed to the dressing room, threw on jeans and a sweater, socks and sneakers and went back to try the door. The thought of testing it first had crossed my mind, but the need to get dressed had prevailed.
I reached out a shaking hand, the other clasping my knife so tightly that my knuckles had turned white. I took a deep breath in and turned the knob. It moved cleanly and quietly. I exhaled slowly and pulled the door open a fraction, straining to hear any noises. I couldn't even make out Jonathan downstairs. I waited for a few seconds and then took the first step towards freedom.
The landing was clear, so I wasted little time and headed toward the front of the house and the stairs. Trying to escape out of a window would have been great, but all the shutters were automatically controlled, no individual one could be manoeuvred without setting off alarms. I had made it half way down the stairs when I heard him. He was still in the kitchen, the noise of the kettle coming off the boil and the movement of china against granite rang out. It was now or never.
I crossed the expanse of tiled floor to the front door on tip toes and had just put my hand on the door knob when I sensed him behind me. I spun around and was met with a quizzical tilt of the head.
“Do you think you would get far, sweetheart?” His voice was even, calm and showed no emotion whatsoever.
I moved back against the door and tested the knob behind me. It didn't shift.
Jonathan casually held up the key to the lock in his right hand.
“I think you forgot something. Now we shall pretend this never happened and I'll help you back to bed.” He took a step toward me, no doubt expecting me to cringe, cry out, to run, hell who knows. He seemed so different form his usual caring persona, that I knew this was the real Jonathan and the rest had all been part of the lie.
“Do you really care for me, Jonathan, or is that all an act too?”
He stopped half way between the stairs and me and slowly smiled. “Have I not treated you well, Hunter?”
Hunter?
When I didn't answer and thankfully showed none of my surprise at what he had called me but my neutral mask, he went on.
“I have been patient and kind. I have been caring and attentive. I thought, the night of the concert, we had finally made progress, but when you baulked at my advances, I retreated. And this is how you repay me?”
He lowered his face and shook his head and when his eyes raised to meet mine again the azure blue had been eclipsed by cyan and turquoise and a dazzling display of colours in a symphony of swirls. They were vivid and bright, so amazing, yet also so terrifying. Because I knew he wasn't holding back.
“I will not tolerate your escape from me for a second time," he said, whisper quiet. "I have played the nice little vampire for too long, but because I would prefer you to participate with enthusiasm rather than not, I will give you one last chance.” He held his hand out to me, palm up and open in an invitation. “Come to me willingly and I won't punish you for your pathetic attempt to flee.”
At least, we were being honest. Finally, I knew where I stood. The sense of relief at knowing my desire to escape was not just an unfounded dream, an illusion of reality, but the only course of action now left available to me, felt entirely liberating. I had been right. This was wrong. And I had to get away.
“Go fuck yourself, Jonathan,” I said it as evenly and neutrally as he had been speaking to me.
He just smiled and let me see his fangs extend slowly.
“Fucking isn't exactly what I had in mind, sweetheart, but teaching you a lesson certainly is.”
He launched at me before he had even finished talking. I don't know how, but somehow I simply danced out of the way. I say dance, rather than jumped, or fell, or scampered, because that's exactly what it felt like. One minute I had been standing with my hands behind my back, one holding the knife, the other the door knob to the front door. The next I was crouched down some five feet away to the side, having executed the most lovely spin in the air. Holy shit.
Jonathan seemed as surprised as me, but recovered far quicker, coming back for another try, this time managing to clip me with his arm as I danced again to the side. Rather than land in a well balanced crouch, I ended up sprawling across the tiles and banging my head into the wall opposite the stairs. The next thing I knew he had me by the throat.
Looming over me, his fangs glinting in the light of the room, I had no idea how to stop the inevitable, he was going to bite me and then do much, much more to cause me pain. My heart was well and truly hammering by now, I couldn't breathe, even if he hadn't been cutting off my oxygen I don't think I would have been able to draw a breath anyway. Spots had begun to appear in front of my eyes and all I could think was no. This could not be happening.
I reached up with my right hand, the one holding the knife and sliced his cheek, not holding anything back, but going for maximum damage with minimum fuss. I don't know how I was able to do it, it seemed such a brutal move, but my body simply acted of its own accord and the knife slit his skin exactly where I had intended it to. Fuck. What was I before all of this happened?
He howled in rage and released my neck, dropping the key to the front door, he had been holding. It bounced and landed by a potted miniature palm tree off to the side of the door to the lounge. Both his hands were now on his face, assessing the damage, but it hadn't been silver, so it wouldn't slow him down for long. I took advantage of his distraction to crawl out from under him and sprint across the foyer.
He slammed into my back before I had managed three steps. The air leaving my lungs was only partially annoying, the crack to my head as it hit the unforgiving tiles was much more of a problem. The spots I had seen before turned to stars. Just as well I hadn't eaten in a while, because nothing would have stayed down when the room began to swim.
I felt Jonathan grab my hair and yank my head back. His snarl as he came in to bite me went right through my body, making me freeze, when perhaps I could have thought of something to get me the fuck out of his hold. As it was, I was blank with fear. Once he bit me, I knew I'd be done for. Nothing could stop his influence then.
I didn't have time to think of anything else, because his hands began to rip at my sweater to gain better access at my neck and the blood vessel there and his fangs pierced my skin. There'd be no softening the sting and pain of the bite, this was all about control and discipline. My punishment for attempting to escape him. Suddenly his fangs left my neck and I thought he had changed his mind, only to have him flip me over onto my back and for his mouth to resume the same spot above my pulse and his fangs to slide in once again. This time he had the front of my body pinned beneath him and his intent was perfectly clear: pain. He tore at my flesh with his fingernails, scraping and scarring my skin. His movements lightning fast. So many gouges, so many tears to flesh. So much blood. He alternated between creating gashes and then creating bruises. His fists pummelling at my sides. But, all I could feel was the terrible pain of his sucking my blood at my neck and th
e shock that this was actually happening.
I felt a tear run down my cheek as I fought the desire to give up. To just let this happen, to not fight and then it would all be over. As the tear drop tracked its way down past my cheek and over my jaw, then onto my neck, I remembered. Blood, dripping, falling, sliding over the same track. Someone's blood, someone important. I had to honour that person, so their blood was not shed in vain. My breath left me in a rush and I tightened my hands into fists, preparing to pound against the marauding vampire on top of me. As soon as my right hand tightened, I realised I still held my little knife.
I settled my grip more accurately and raised it over his back. It wasn't silver, it wouldn't hold him for long, but nobody, vampire or human, likes to have their heart stabbed with a knife. He'd shed it within seconds, but seconds may just be long enough. Just as I felt his pounding of fists against my ribs switch up a notch in speed and force, I sent the knife home, knowing exactly what angle to use, how much force would be required and what spot to enter at.
It went in right up to the hilt and he stopped. I pushed against his chest with all my might and rolled him off me. Panting and scurrying away like a crab. I didn't take my eyes off him until I reached the pot plant with the miniature palm and had to look for the key. It took three precious seconds to find it, another four to stumble to the door and an awful, excruciatingly painful, five seconds to get the key in the lock and turn it. The door releasing and opening back towards me, making me take a staggering, imbalanced step back into the room, before it swung wide open.
I took one last glance over my shoulder and screamed. Jonathan was behind me, reaching forward, a look of utter desperation on his face, combined with a feral look of murder in his eyes. His fingers brushed down my front as I fell backwards through the door, still under cover from the sun on the porch. He followed, landing on top of me again, pushing what little air was left in my lungs out and slamming me back hard against the wooden planks of the stoop.
Giver of Light Page 6