Grave Burden

by P. Anastasia

  My arms shook and gave out, making me slip onto my back. Derek climbed onto the bed and came down onto all fours, positioning himself over me and pinning me in place with his weight as he straddled my legs. He leaned down, his breath warm against my neck, and I flinched, my back arching as I tried to wriggle out from under him.

  He pushed the hem of my shirt up and the flaps of his open button-up shirt tickled my bare midriff.

  I bit down in resistance, barely able to utter a firm “no.”

  But he didn’t hesitate at all, and instead lathed his tongue across my abdomen, while inching his fingers up my side.

  I reached up to grasp onto his shoulders, but weakness overcame me and I couldn’t find the strength to dig my nails into his skin.

  He kissed the side of my ribcage and I sucked in sharp breath.

  Matthaya… Matthaya… Please. Help me.

  I had to get away from Derek.

  Wake up! Wake up!

  I must have been asleep.

  It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.

  His warm-blooded touch seemed real, as did the distinct aroma of his skin.

  He let up, slightly, and I felt his eyes on me. Subtle movement drew me to meet his gaze and I gasped in horror as Derek’s features and clothing began to transform.

  An eerie gray color swept over his skin. A crisp, black suit jacket unfolded down his back and sides, as his shirt turned white and long sleeves stretched down to his wrists. Then his hair grew longer, dark waves falling to the base of his neck.

  “Is this really how you want it to go?” he asked. His face and clothing mirrored Matthaya’s.

  “No!” I still couldn’t move. Sickness pooled in my stomach and a new kind of fear shook me. Even the smell of his skin had changed to mimic the woodsy, damp petrichor I’d grown to recognize from my husband.

  But his eyes told the truth. They weren’t the beautiful green of the man I had married. They were the deepest, most sinister brown.

  Then he smiled—a big, toothy grin with bright, lengthy incisors gleaming, longer and more pronounced than any I’d seen.

  “Derek, stop!” I hissed, pushing against him with all my might, though he didn’t budge. “You’re not Matthaya!”

  “This was your idea,” he said with a sarcastic smile, running his tongue across his fangs. “I’m up for a little role play.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be Matthaya and you can be…” His fingernail traced a line across my throat. “Well, you.” He shrugged and cocked his head to the side. “Come on. You can’t tell me you haven’t wanted this—that you can turn down the opportunity to do what you couldn’t before. I can offer you that. In the real world, we can’t feel pain… or pleasure. We can’t enjoy passion or warmth… or sex. Lucky for you, you’re not in that world anymore. You’re in mine. Here, you can have whatever, and do whoever, you want. Even him, if that’s what you really want from me.”

  “I don’t want anything from you!” I squirmed and grunted beneath his weight.

  He was frightening! Damn him, he was frightening.

  “You’ve changed, Derek!” I tried, one more time, to force him off me but couldn’t. Some unseen force had me paralyzed. “Stop this, please.” My feebleness enraged me.

  He wrapped his fingers around my wrists and pressed them back and deep into the bed, chuckling as fierce golden sparkle ignited his eyes.

  “You don’t want me?” he said gruffly, but with the distinct velvet cadence of Matthaya’s voice. “You don’t want to be with your husband?”

  He wasn’t Matthaya.

  But Derek looked, and even smelled, like him now. The man holding me down on that bed was, to all my other senses, Matthaya.

  “Let me go.” I groaned, turning my face to the side and squeezing my eyes closed to avoid his gaze. “I don’t want you.”

  “What’s that?” He bent closer until his weight pressed against my chest. “Now why would you say a thing like that? You… ungrateful…” His lips hovered over my ear and his breath turned cold. “I am yours,” he whispered, nibbling my ear. “And you are mine.”

  I made the mistake of opening my eyes. Vivid, neon green mixed with fluorescent yellow electrified his irises as his jaws separated.

  “No!” I screamed, but the word was cut short by teeth sinking into my throat. He bit down—hard—and it cut off the air from my lungs. Hot blood spilled over my skin and the pressure of his weight suffocated me.

  I’d been bitten once, but it wasn’t the same. I don’t remember it well, but my flesh had remained attached to my body.

  Not this time.

  Pain shredded through me as he latched onto my neck like a lion. He let up momentarily and I trembled, shaking from the icy sensation enveloping me, making my fingertips tingle and lose feeling. He came down for a second bite. His teeth dug deeper and his bite clamped down harder, until I thought I would lose consciousness.

  I hoped I would.

  Blood spewed from the wound, splashing crimson on his white shirt.

  Then I was forced to taste it as it dripped into my mouth. Iron. Bitterness. Death.

  I gasped, gagging on my own blood.

  Pain shot through my veins like acid, burning between freezing chills.

  I was dying.

  I strained to take a breath, but no air would come in.

  He sat back on his heels and dragged his sleeve across his face, slicking blood from his chin.

  I brought a hand up to my neck to put pressure on the massive wound. The ribs of my esophagus prickled my fingers.

  The bleeding wouldn’t stop.

  He looked down at me, his eyes brighter than ever from the fever of his bloody feast. He trailed his fingers down my neck, tracing a red streak across my collar bone and down toward my cross necklace.

  He smiled, twisting the chain around his blood-covered hand. “You should pray, Kathera.”

  “St-op.” I coughed up blood.

  He dropped the pendant back onto my chest and let out a heavy sigh.

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” A grimace curled in his lips. “Matthaya stole you from me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Now I’m taking you back.”

  He didn’t… steal me…

  Derek’s words hurt like hell.

  But so did the gaping fatal gash he had torn in my throat.

  Kathera writhed in her sleep, muttering incoherently as if possessed. I couldn’t feel what she was dreaming about and was suddenly unable to reach into her mind to see for myself.

  “Kathera.” I tried waking her with a few firm nudges, but she wouldn’t come out of the fit.

  I leaned over her and grasped onto her arms.

  “Kathera! Wake up.”

  Her seizures made her difficult to hold on to; I had to brace myself to keep a firm grip on her.

  I closed my eyes and tried to connect with her mind again, pressing through the dense barrier of rampant, ricocheting thoughts. Her consciousness was clouded with noise and I couldn’t break through all the commotion.

  Then she went still and silent and a vivid burst of color flooded my brain as she returned to me.

  Her eyes opened and wild blue light permeated her irises. She screamed, pulled free, and then slammed her hands into me, thrusting me off the bed and onto the floor. The forceful thud rattled me, and I took a moment to come to my feet.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, nearing the bedside.

  She scrambled back against the headboard while cupping both hands around her throat. Bright, widened eyes gazed out at nothing, and she was petrified and speechless.

  I slowly took a step closer.

  “I-I…” She lowered her hands from her throat and hastily looked them over. “I’m not bleeding anymore. Am I?” she asked, touching her neck again and then checking her fingers a second time.

  “No. You aren’t bleeding at all,” I said quietly.

  “But… I saw it. He…” She bit down and grimaced
, folding over as she grasped her other wrist tightly and pulled it close to her chest. It was the one Derek had bitten.

  “What has he done to you?” I asked, sensing a myriad of thoughts involving him coiling through her. I continued to try to pry into her memories and uncover the traumatizing dream, but I couldn’t get through.

  She looked up at me, her eyes no longer aglow, and sat with her mouth agape.

  “I don’t know. I thought I was dreaming,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “That was no ordinary dream,” I corrected. “I could not reach you in that state. Please tell me what happened. What did you see?” I took another step closer and she cringed, almost as if she were frightened of me.

  “You…” She cupped her hands around her neck again and pushed her heels into the mattress as she scooted back.

  A fleeting vision of her throat being torn out, by a dark figure, flashed into my mind. I bit down and growled, baring my fangs unintentionally toward her; she shrieked.

  Her anxiety and fear buzzed through my body, forcing my anger to subside. How could she be afraid of me!?

  “It’s okay now,” I said in a hushed tone, shaking off the rage that had ignited my eyes. “Did he do that to you in your vision?”

  “No.” She lifted her gaze toward me, paused briefly to process her thoughts, and then uttered, “You did.”

  Me?!

  “The man in your visions could not have been—”

  “No,” she corrected. “No. It wasn’t you. It was…” She twisted her wrist inward and shuddered. “Derek. He turned into you so that he could…”

  Pain sizzled through her nerves, sending residual waves through my own body. The impulses made my fingers twitch, the sensation resembling an intolerable itch deep beneath my skin.

  Kathera grunted and doubled over, cradling her wrist. “It hurts,” she bellowed through clenched teeth.

  But vampires do not feel pain.

  Irritation and discomfort, perhaps, but we cannot process actual pain. Not as humans know it.

  The unsettling twinge creeping beneath my skin, on behalf of our connection, was indeed reminiscent of pain.

  “Let me see the mark.” I put an open hand toward her. She lifted her arm and cautiously offered it toward me.

  I examined the bite. Hairline forks of deep purple and maroon color spread out from the central punctures; I’d never seen anything like it.

  “It’s so painful,” she said hoarsely. “Can you make it stop?”

  Anger billowed inside me. I looked over the mark a second time. My first theory was that Ve’tani had created, once again, a new Sire. If so, he shouldn’t have been able to gain control over Kathera, as my own DNA had already compromised her system and we were not susceptible to being “re-sired,” as far as I knew. But then I’d never allowed myself to be bitten by another Sire. Nor was such a thing customary.

  A quick sniff of her skin proved me wrong instantly. She still smelled the same, and our minds were still fully linked, despite the brief lapse in our connection earlier.

  The veins spreading from the wound were forking in several directions, carrying the color through her body like a virus.

  No.

  Like poison.

  “I think Derek poisoned you,” I said.

  “No.” Kathera jerked her arm away. “That’s not possible, is it? Why would he?”

  “Every human’s DNA is impacted differently by the disease. I do not know the extent of the effects vampirism can have on any one individual. You’ve seen what it did to me.”

  “It was a dream—a nightmare,” she muttered in denial.

  “As are my wings to some.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’ve had them before. Bad things often happen in my dreams. You know that.”

  “But this is different,” I replied. “I couldn’t reach you as you slept. It was as though you were no longer in sync with me and I had lost the ability to connect with your consciousness. His venom severed our ties long enough for him to control your dream; I won’t let him get away with this.”

  I narrowed my eyes and squeezed a fist. My wings wriggled with agitation and anticipation of a fight. I swerved away from her and took a step toward the door.

  “I’ll…”

  “No!” Kathera grabbed on to my sleeve, halting me.

  I turned back to see her kneeling at the foot of the bed, her arm outstretched and her fingers clutching my jacket. “Please, don’t go after him. I sense your anger, and I know it’s there with good reason, but… please don’t go.”

  I refused to make promises I might break, so I remained silent and still.

  “Please,” she continued. “The pain is letting up. He made his point. Let’s just forget about him for now.”

  “How can I forget?” I asked. My brows furrowed and the desire for revenge made me restless. “Why should I ignore what he did to you—what he did to my wife!?”

  She slid off the bed and took both my hands. Her rich blue eyes pleaded for sympathy. “Because he’s suffering, too,” she said.

  The anger in me began to diminish almost instantly, upon hearing those words from her lips. Kathera was newly changed, but enough of her humanity remained that she could still see him for what he was—a pawn in Ve’tani’s petty war against us.

  “Ve’tani took him, and he’s confused and angry, just like I was, at first. Just like you were, at first.” Her fingers slid between mine. “Maybe, even frightened.”

  She spoke with great wisdom, but…

  “You were not under Ve’tani’s counsel,” I countered. “She is a monster, and she will shape him into one. Wouldn’t it be more merciful to save him from a torturous eternity with her?”

  “No!” Radiant blue light flashed through Kathera’s eyes. “We allowed him to die once. I won’t let him die again.”

  I pressed my lips thin and hesitated. “As long as he remains with her, he’s as good as dead.”

  Her brow wrinkled, and then a glimmer of hope curled her lips. “But, what if she chooses another? What if she decides to take someone else? Will he be free?”

  It was not so simple.

  “No,” I answered. “He would become an Abandoned One—one forsaken by a Sire to allow for a new companion. Abandoned Ones’ connections with their Sires are shattered once a new Taken is chosen, and the influx of noise in the disconnected mind leaves them disoriented and vulnerable. They cannot be reclaimed by another, nor can they survive on their own.”

  “So if Ve’tani chooses someone else, Derek will suffer again?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh…” Her grasp loosened. “Well, is there anything we can do to help him?”

  “We must let nature run its course—however unpredictable or cruel. It is the only thing we can do. I know this is not what you may want to hear, but for your own good, you must stay away from him.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but I sternly interrupted with, “You must.”

  Pain and regret swirled through her mind, and disappointment weighed heavily on her heart.

  “I understand,” she uttered.

  We’d reached a stalemate; there was no agreeable way for us to deal with Derek’s behavior.

  The unspoken fear that her dreams could be seized again by him kept me on edge. The physical mark on her wrist was fading, but the emotional damage remained.

  Her ruminating made me apprehensive, too, as her feelings often bled into my own, making me lose track of my thoughts. This forced me to look for a way to keep her occupied and focused on something other than him.

  I sat on an antique velvet chair in the foyer and spun my signet ring around my finger. Kathera had suggested we research its origin, but it never truly interested me, and so I never made an effort.

  The gold shimmered beneath the dim light of the table lamp beside me, the emerald glistening with vivid shades of greenish-blue. The hand-forged gold dragons embellishing the
band were family crests of some kind. Inside the band, I found no hallmark.

  I looked up; from where I sat, I could see into the kitchen. On the edge of the countertop was Kathera’s laptop, primarily used for researching designs and emailing clients. I pushed up out of my chair and made my way over to it.

  The shop kept us busy, and even without taking many appointments, she filled her week with the toils of designing and inking tattoos, while I took care of the paperwork and general bills. It wasn’t the type of work that consumed my entire day, but I often pretended it did, in an effort to appear as supportive of her career as possible. I was at her beck and call, but I could easily do more to free up her precious time.

  “Kathera?” I called to her. She was in the bedroom, sketching. Each pen stroke weaved through my mind as if it was my own, and I envisioned the new design coming to life at her hand. At least she was trying again, though some level of discord and disappointment kept her from feeling satisfaction from any recent works.

  She stopped drawing and came to find me.

  “Yes?” She walked into the kitchen and tipped her head when she saw me standing beside her computer. “Are you looking for something?”

  I was not particularly fond of electronics, but they were a necessity to get anything done efficiently in the modern era. Information was available at the click of a button—knowledge that often took months, if not years, to ascertain in the days before the internet.

  “I would like your help.” I slid the heavy signet ring off my finger and offered it to her. “I would like to begin researching this, but I don’t know where to start.”

  “Of course, but…” She cocked an eyebrow. “Why the sudden interest? I’d mentioned it before, but you—”

  “I’ve been thinking about us, and I believe it is only right for you to know more about the man you married.”

  “Oh.” She glanced at the ring and a small smile curled her lips. The expression, though subtle, cut through some of the darkness in her heart. “I would love to help you research it.”

  “Thank you.” I set the ring down beside the touchpad of her laptop. “I did not find any etchings inside the band, if that helps.”

  “A little, I think. I was about to suggest you search for an artist’s mark.” She pulled up one of the nearby barstools so she could sit at the raised counter, and then gestured for me to do the same and sit beside her.