Chapter 14: The Vampire (part 2)

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  I can do nothing but stare at him, utterly petrified and helpless, as the blackness of his irises bleeds into the white of his eyes like ink in water. His bared teeth force me to witness how his cuspids elongate on their own, swiftly growing into dreadful, monstrous fangs.

  I forget that breathing exists altogether.

  Once the midnight blackness of his scleras reaches the corner of his eyes, it continues to stain the pale skin of his lids and cheekbones, travelling just beneath the surface like veiny lightning, until they fade by his temples and cheeks. In the middle of it all, where his pupils used to be, the darkness splits in two, revealing new, dagger-shaped pupils of the deepest, deadliest crimson.

  Those inhuman eyes settle on me. “Are you sufficiently convinced now?” Needle-sharp fangs flash in the firelight as he speaks.

  A choked sob forces itself out of my throat as quick, cold tears of absolute terror plunge down my face.

  Good God, my mind begs shrilly. I don’t even believe in God, but the inescapable feeling of powerlessness has me reaching out for the only thing that can save me now. Please don’t let him hurt me. Please.

  Seth was telling the truth all along.

  Vampire. An unholy creature of undeath and bloodlust. A slave to an uncontrollable sanguine hunger.

  And I have been living in his lair for little more than two weeks now, keeping his company for the past six days, brilliantly oblivious to the danger right next to me.

  “Fear me not, Kia. I may appear a monster, but I will do you no harm,” the vampire claims in Seth’s voice. “I will, however, admit to having made this demonstration needlessly theatrical, but I so seldom allow myself to transform.”

  My brain fails to fully comprehend the creature before me. The mere sight of him is too overwhelming, pushing far beyond my mental capabilities. I cannot keep looking, but I cannot look away either. My body has stopped obeying my command entirely.

  Feeling strangely light-headed, I can do nothing but sit and observe as my limbs grow weaker and heavier by the second, until my outstretched arm suddenly drops. Imperceptibly fast, Seth moves to catch it mid-air, and a violent shudder runs through me as his clawed hand wraps itself tightly around my wrist.

  “Careful,” he hisses, holding my punctured finger cautiously elevated. “You must refrain from spilling blood on your clothes. Chiselle will detect it the very moment she enters the same room as you.”

  Unable to answer him, I blink slowly, so slowly, as if inebriated on the combination of unabating fright and repulsion. He is incredibly close. Too close. If he wanted to, he could sink those terrible fangs into my flesh, and I could do nothing to prevent it.

  Before I know of it, the room begins to spin and tilt around me. Instantly, his other hand moves to my back in order to support me so I don’t topple off of the desk.

  “You are losing consciousness,” he remarks matter-of-factly. As if on cue, my eyes roll back in my head. I think I catch him muttering a curse under his breath.

  “Kia, stay focused. We need to destroy any trace of blood,” I vaguely hear him say. I see nothing but white. Perhaps the ceiling, perhaps nothing at all. “Either you lick it off before you pass out, or I will. You decide.”

  No. Not him.

  The faintest of whimpers leaves my lips. “P-plea-…se.”

  I lose my breath completely. My head drops against my shoulder.

  “Too late.”

  My arm moves.

  A flash of coldness.

  Then nothing.

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  A brisk chill sweeps around me like a blanket, and I shudder in discomfort, curling together on my side. The only source of warmth seems to be the silken surface beneath me, reflecting my own heat back at me. I cling to it as I drift in and out of consciousness for a while.

  Through the haze of slumber, I become aware of how a strange stiffness has settled in my limbs, almost like exertion, but not quite. Like a prolonged exposure to tension of body and mind alike. Like fear.

  The infinite darkness before me - until now my sanctum, my peace - suddenly splits down the middle, and crimson bleeds out from the fracture.

  And I remember.

  A lung-bursting gasp escapes me as I, at long last, come to.

  With my heart thundering in my chest, I look around in an attempt to orient myself. A bedchamber, dark and inhospitably cold, surrounds me, and I am sitting on a bed in the middle of it. A handful of lit candles are scattered throughout the room, peppering various horizontal surfaces and planes; bedside table, dresser, window sill, shelves. All they do, besides illuminating the perimeter, is confirm my suspicion that I am somewhere wholly foreign to me.

  Except I know exactly where I am.

  The door on the far wall swings open, and in walks the silver-haired nightmare, a tray in his hands. “Welcome back, Kia. How are you feeling?”

  Even with his features back to normal, I cannot unsee what he has unveiled to me. Thanks to him, I now see him for what he truly is: a monster.

  “I need you to stay the fuck away from me,” I snarl. Seth takes no heed of my tone, however, as he strides to the bedside table to put down the tray, his demeanor nothing short of calm disinterest. As he nears me, I climb off the bed on the opposite side and back up into the nearest corner to maximize the distance between us.

  “As I told you before, you need not fear me. Not once have I shown any intention of hurting you, have I?” Without even looking at me, he pours a cup of tea, which he then leaves untouched on the table as he retreats to a wooden stool near the door. “Please drink. Chamomile and lemon balm.”

  Perhaps I have no reason to be afraid of him out of principle alone - about this he might have a point - but I sure as Hell do not trust him. Not anymore.

  “What did you do to me?”

  Leaning back against the wall, Seth interlocks his fingers in his lap and meets my gaze. For a heartbeat, I think of ink bleeding into water, and I regret even looking at him. “Not a thing. You fainted, Kia, do you not recall?”

  My eyes narrow. “I mean while I was unconscious.”

  Frustratingly neutral as it is, his face resembles marble, only moving when he speaks. “I simply took care of a small problem of yours, which I disclosed with full transparency at the time, before I carried you to my bedchamber.”

  “And then?” I press on.

  “And then I left you to awaken on your own while I prepared a pot of herbal tea. Summa summarum, nothing of significance transpired, and now we are here.” An unreadable, mirthless smile then pulls at his lips. “I cannot guarantee the culinary quality of the tea, however, as the kitchen is strictly Chiselle’s demesne. I wished not to involve her in this."

  He talks too much, seems too casual. Like… like it never happened. I can’t shake the feeling that he is hiding something.

  “Did…” My voice falters. The sentence seems too strange to even speak aloud, but I need to know. “Did you drink my blood? Did you bite me?”

  Seth tilts his head, not one emotion crossing his face as of yet. “As previously noted, I allowed myself a single droplet, as you were in no state to dispose of it in a safe manner at the time,” he says, as if he weren’t the very reason why, and I think I glare at him at that. “To answer your second inquiry: No, I did not bite you. As I believe I have told you before, although in a poor attempt at humor, I do not bite, and I never will.”

  I snort bitterly before I can stop myself. For someone who allegedly refuses to sink his teeth into his victims, he certainly has the proper equipment for it. The thought alone of those bestial fangs sends a shiver down my spine, and I force the mental image away the best I can when the memory is still so fresh in my mind.

  “For a moment there, you seemed to be enjoying yourself at my expense. Who knows what else you would do when nobody watched?”

  Without warning, the vampire gets to his feet. The movement is neither hurried nor aggressive, but I still find myself receding into the corner until my back meets the wall. Much to my relief, he remains where he is.

  “I must offer you my deepest and most sincere apology, Kia,” he says and bows his head in a surprising display of humility. “It was never my intention to make you feel unsafe, or even fear for your life. My enthusiasm got the better of me, and I am regretful beyond words. I merely hope I can earn your trust again one day.”

  My tongue lies dormant as I struggle to process the unexpected apology - and determine its authenticity. Looking at him, I see nothing that contradicts his words; he appears sincere and remorseful. Somewhat ashamed even. Or at least that is what he wants me to see. It could be manipulation, a mere trick to make me lower my guard, and I would be none the wiser until he has attained what it is he truly wants from me.

  Genuine repentance or not, the question remains: Can I trust him? Do I even want to?

  Taking a breath so deep it nearly stings and then exhaling with equal calm, I allow the tension in my shoulders to ease a bit. My limbs feel sore still, my head faint. I want to sit down, but Seth is standing by the only actual seat in the room. It is with a decent amount of reluctance that I move to the edge of his bed and settle on the black silk bed cover. He watches me silently, his lips sealed. He wants me to lead the conversation from here.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “So you were speaking the truth the other day,” I say, appropriating his usual stoicism to act as a psychological guardrail. And cling to it I do. “Which breeds a litter of questions, to put it mildly.”

  “Feel free to ask away, and I shall reply truthfully to each and every one of them.”

  I probably wouldn’t even know if he lied to me, but his promise will have to do. In his desperation to compensate, he will be giving me information wholly free of charge, no transactional games this time, and I expect at least some of it to be true. I would be a fool to let the opportunity pass me by.

  “First of all: How come I am still alive?” The thought has been roaming around in the back of my mind from the moment I woke up. “I have been here a fortnight, entirely unaccounted for by all means. An easy prey. Are vampires not supposed to… you know…?”

  As I gesture vaguely to my neck, Seth’s attention follows and rests on my throat for a heartbeat or two, as if entertaining the idea of making my suggestion a reality. But he has had plenty of chances to do so already, and I doubt my words will be the very thing to suddenly change his mind.

  “I understand your confusion, as illogical as all of this appears,” he begins, tucking his hands into his pockets in a manner of nonchalance. “However tempting the thought was in the beginning, I simply am not allowed to drink human blood.”

  I frown. “But you do it anyway.”

  “I do,” he agrees. “But only you and I know the true nature of our arrangement.”

  “So Chiselle is the one who mustn’t know,” I conclude aloud. He once told me to keep our bargain a secret from her for my own sake, but in reality he was protecting himself all along. Cunning. Deceiving.

  “Amongst others, yes.”

  “Who forbade it, and why?” I continue the interrogation, observing him closely. And there, even in the dim, fluttering light, I notice as something flickers across his face, nearly too fast for the human eye to catch. An emotion. A feeling.

  “It is an order from my king,” he explains, a muscle going in his jaw. “The starvation is a crucial part of my punishment - a continuous, systematic torture of body and spirit, if you will.”

  My eyebrows rise high.

  Constant hunger, malnourishment, and isolation for twenty years - almost as long as I have lived. A knot twists in my stomach at the realization. Back home in Trefield, a few years ago, the village failed to procure enough food for everyone, and as result people had to go hungry until the following summer. It lasted no longer than one cycle of four seasons, but it manifested in several ways: Sickness thrived and more died, babies were born unnaturally small and frail, and crime rates increased drastically, poaching especially, causing the bailiff to order more executions in one year than he had the last decade. It was nothing short of horrible. It changed people. And in Seth’s case, the madness has lasted most of his life, likely since childhood.

  I never expected to feel a pang of sympathy for the vampire, but not even the worst criminals deserve such a punishment. It is no wonder, really, that he looks the way he does. In truth, I’m amazed that he didn’t rip open my throat and feasted on my blood the very second he had the chance, just to experience a moment of satiety and relief, damned be the consequences. He must possess either an admirable dose of self-control or a bone-deep fear of something.

  “Kia?” Seth’s voice latches onto me and drags me out of my head and back to my senses. I blink, taking in the chamber anew. “I see that my tale, disclosed in an unprecedented moment of weakness, has affected you. Please forget what I told you. Any shred of pity for me you may or may not have discovered was never my intent to evoke.”

  I stare at him incredulously. His expression is as closed as ever, his usual mask of dignity and pride snapped back into place.

  He is right, of course - I should not feel bad for him, especially not after today. But even though he has finally revealed his true self to me, effectively shedding a new light upon the events of the past two weeks, I cannot seem to disregard the side of him I have come to know in the six days we have spent together; the amiability and warm hospitality, the patience and faith in my abilities, the general respect for me and my boundaries; the part of him that tells me he might be more than just a monster after all.

  I shake my head. “That is not how feelings work, Seth. Not human ones, anyway.”

  I think my reaction surprises him to the point where he is unsure of what to say. His lips remain sealed for a while. Then, evidently, he decides to drop the subject altogether.

  Getting up, he gestures towards the door. “You need to leave. The hour is late, and our lesson has concluded for tonight. I will answer all your questions in the morning.”

  But I am not done yet. I cannot help but wonder how Chiselle, his friend and housekeeper, is involved. Is she a prison guard functioning as a maid, or is she a convict like him? Or simply some odd woman from a local village, employed by the strange and lonesome lord of the forest mansion at a salary too grand to refuse?

  I remain on his bed, stubbornness taking the reins. “What is Chiselle’s true purpose here?”

  Seth stills, and I cannot tell if it’s from reluctance to answer or irritation because I am disobeying his order to leave it be for now.

  “That is a story for another time. Right now, you should retire.”

  I watch as he goes to pick up the tray of untouched tea. He really wants me to go, but I feel like he owes me the truth of what is really going on - of what he has brought me into.

  “What good is your promise of honesty and forthrightness if you are the one to decide when it applies?”

  Disregarding my attempt of aggravation, Seth stops by the door. “These occasional bouts of insubordination of yours are not serving our arrangement well,” he says and pulls the handle. “Now, kindly follow me.”

  I roll my eyes and push myself off the bed. Seth remains by the doorway to see me out. “Is she human, at least?” I demand as I pass him by on my way out into the library, making sure to keep as much distance as the doorframe allows.

  “No, she is something else,” he says, closing the door behind him and leaving nearly a dozen lit candles unattended. “Not something to be feared, however. She poses no threat to you greater than a hissing kitten.”

  The library is warm and comfortable, several logs still crackling in the fireplace. It is strange to think what transpired in this chamber this late evening, when it appears as calm and cozy as ever. But right there, at our workspace, my body gave in to an overwhelming fear, leaving me completely defenseless and vulnerable with a blood-consuming predator. And I survived with not one scratch on me besides the one I readily inflicted on myself.

  Seth swings by the desk to pick up my neatly strapped notebook, which he adds to the tray before offering it to me. “Feel free to bring the tea with you upstairs if you so desire.”

  I have no intention of drinking the tea, questionable as it allegedly is, but I take the tray nonetheless. “So what now?” I ask.

  “Now you go to your bedchamber and rest, and then I will see you at dawn for your morning lesson, as per our agreed-upon work schedule.”

  Like it never happened. Like our conversations tonight didn't exist, and I knew nothing still, blissfully unaware of his true nature. Does he truly expect me to pretend? Or is he so desperate for me to continue my tuition - and our blood deal - that he is seeking to downplay the severity of his revelation?

  Despite his eagerness, and despite my sympathy for him, I’m not sure I can continue this experiment. Seth may not have hurt me as of yet, but one stumble of that immaculate self-control could end me. Do I dare? Is this whole ordeal worth it?

  I need some time to think it over.

  I nod. “Alright.”

  As usual, he follows me to the library door, ever the gentleman. “Are you adequately stable on your feet, or would you prefer I escort you to your chamber?”

  “I am perfectly fine,” I say and step aside to let him open the door for me. “Goodnight.”

  This time, I almost make it to my room before the devil incarnate reveals herself to me. Catching the creaking of the floorboards behind me, I calmly put the tray down on the pier table right by the door. “Took you long enough,” I greet her blindly.

  Grabbing my arm to keep me still, Chiselle leans in to sniff me by my neck. Had I not known her intent already, her action might have come across as sensual and flirtatious, bordering on disturbing. But I know her; she won’t harm me. Not seriously, at least. I get the feeling she simply cannot - despite her obvious desire to.

  She lifts and turns my arms, peeks underneath my dress, inspects my body to the outermost limit of decency - and not one step further. Never further. And thus, my secret remains.

  However, as brilliantly perceptive she appears to be, she does locate the reddened tip of my finger where I pricked myself.

  “A papercut,” I say with feigned indifference.

  I could tell her of Seth’s transgressions. I probably should. But as the lie leaves my lips, I have already sided with the vampire; a willing accomplice in his crime against his crown.

  Bringing my finger close to her nose, she tries to smell it, but I rip my hand from her grasp before she can do so. “This is getting ridiculous, Chiselle,” I say and go to pick up the tray anew. “Please get yourself a new recreational activity - preferably one that doesn’t involve me.”

  With a displeased grumble, she allows me to leave and returns to her room. I push my door open with a shoulder and breathe deeply once I’m inside my dark and serene bedchamber. Away from these bizarre people. If you can even call non-humans that.

  A familiar sight awaits me on the nightstand: the book that started it all. Even in the subtle light of the moon, its cerulean cover is recognizable, and when I move closer, the gold embossing flashes and gleams, beckoning to me. I put the tray down on the bed, tea and notebook quickly forgotten, and run my fingers almost gingerly over the woman’s curls melting into the waves beneath her. She looks a bit like Mama when she was younger, I realize. Like me.

  The title at the top is slanted and elegantly curving, its letters contorted to the point of unidentifiability. I will have to ask for a translation.

  A folded piece of parchment has been placed next to the book. I pick it up and find a message on the inside, written in Seth’s distinct calligraphy. Slowly, but not as slowly as I used to, I go through the letters systematically, interpreting the words one at a time.

  ‘For you. Keep it this time’, it says.

  A smile blooms on my lips.

  But only for a moment, as the weight of reality then hits me.

  Seth must have put it here sometime during the day, when I was on cleaning duty with Chiselle between lessons - likely when we ventured outside to check the snares. He was supposed to be sleeping, and yet he took the time to steal upstairs and leave me a present, not knowing how the rest of the day would unfold.

  He didn’t plan on scaring me tonight. The version of him that had wanted to surprise me had been disregarded the instant I had dared him to prove himself a vampire to me. A mere three hours ago, he had secretly been waiting for me to eventually return to my bedchamber and find his present. Not as a simple activity for killing free time, as had been the intention the first time I was gifted books, but because he genuinely wanted me to have this one. Because he believed in me. Because he knew that I finally would be able to open it and see something other than lifeless, uninterpretable ink on paper.

  And I had reacted like an ungrateful and insolent child, my frustration getting the better of me because I was impatient. I had ruined it. My temper had nearly cost me his faith, and my fear of him this opportunity.

  I try to swallow the sudden thickness in my throat, but it remains, like remorse. Like shame.

  Sighing, I slip the note beneath the cover of the novel and light the oil lamp.

  I wasn’t going to collect blood for him tonight. He took a drop without my permission when I specifically told him, back when we made the deal, that he could have seven a day and not one more. He crossed that boundary, and it would only be fair to sanction him for it. But knowing what he is going through, what he has had to endure for almost twenty years, I cannot bring myself to punish him like that. I might find another way to do it, but not like this.

  I skip tonight’s self-study and go straight to the bathing chamber. Locking the door first and foremost, I undress and look at myself in the mirror. The skin under my eyes is dark and my waterlines reddened from the lingering fear and exhaustion. But despite that and my slowly paling complexion, I look well. Healthy. Properly fed. Cared for. My skin is soft and my hair shiny from the expensive soaps and tonics, my curls thriving when I let them loose from my usual braid.

  What happened a few hours ago changes nothing. Perhaps once or twice during my stay, I might have been in evanescent danger. I have not forgotten the look in Seth’s eyes the morning he found me snooping around alone in the kitchen. But I am in danger no longer. Nothing has ever truly prevented the vampire from fatally draining me, and yet he has refrained from even laying a finger on me. Not even when transforming, not even when I was passed out in front of him, did he hurt or violate me.

  At the end of the day, here I am, treated well and in charge of my own body and blood. Alive and safe despite all reason.

  And so, when I pour the carafe of water into the basin on the washstand, I have made my decision.

  Dipping a cloth in the cold water, I wash myself. Despite slowly coming to terms with what happened tonight, I still feel unclean. Seth touched me. Carried me. Put me on his bed. I believed him when he told me that he did nothing more than that - and now, seeing the reflection of my unharmed body in the mirror, I still do. But I cannot shake the feeling of discomfort from his proximity transcending the boundaries of our relationship.

  Once I am sufficiently cleaned and dried off, I open my notebook and pluck the knife and glass bottle from the hidden compartment. Like usual, I lift my leg to rest on the lip of the bathtub and find a safe spot on my inner thigh to cut. This time, I let the blade go a little deeper. I hiss lowly at the stinging pain I’m causing myself for his sake. Quickly, before my blood spills on the floor, I press the uncorked bottle to the wound and start counting.

  With foolish determination, I double the portion. And as I soon thereafter hide the kit away in the notebook, I realize I have done the very thing I swore not to: I have gotten involved. Indisputably so.