Chapter 13.
I find a place on the top of the mountain and pull the car over and I cry. I don’t want to go home. I feel dread at the prospect of going back to that dark house and that man…
If he is a man.
The “You know nothing of my kind.” Comment has really gotten me worried. I have a conversation with myself in the car.
Come on Andrea. He’s foreign. Maybe he just got his words mixed up. I mean people do it all the time and you don’t think they’re the walking undead.
What if Josue is right and you’re not married? You’ve been feeling funny about this whole thing from the beginning.
You’ve had amnesia. You don’t remember anything. Much less your husband.
If he is your husband.
“OKAY!” I say aloud to settle the argument in my head. Rational and Un-rational Andrea are about to come to blows but the argument isn’t resolved. I sit until the sun is over my shoulder and we don’t get much farther than that. When I return home I creep into the kitchen and hope that Doyle hasn’t awakened.
“Where have you been? It’s been hours!”
Busted.
I smile weakly. “I just liked being out in the sunshine, Doyle. Really.”
He looks at me and knows I’m lying. I think of our earlier argument on the steps at Ross’ Landing.
“I’m not Doyle. I went to get my prescription. They said it would take 45 minutes I went to get a coffee. You can smell my breath.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He warns with one finger raised in the air menacingly.
But you can lie to me. I think to myself and lift my chin defiantly. The stubbornness that Josue reminded me of runs through my veins like a fire and I set my jaw and square my shoulders.
He moves closer to me. “Now you’re my wife and I want to know where you have been. And with whom.”
‘Now you’re my wife.’ Did he just say that? Oh, no you didn’t! That had me. I felt my temper flare beyond what I felt capable of controlling. If this was going to be my last stand so be it! By hook or crook; I decide as my eyes narrow and I glare at him. I am getting answers – today!
“If I’m your wife, then where’s our wedding rings Doc?”
He stops mid-thought and blinks several times, as if completely dumbstruck.
“What?” It was the rhetorical what. The kind of ‘what’ that doesn’t so much ask a question as make the statement about the believability of the preceding statement.
“Our wedding rings.” I repeat as if he’s deaf- not quite catching on to the afore mentioned rhetorical ‘what’. “Where are they? Do we even have any? Are we even married?”
He tilts his head to one side and smiles. It’s not a nice smile; it’s the kind of smile that went hand in hand with the earlier rhetorical what.
“Who have you been talking to?”
“A friend. Now. Tell me the truth.”
“A friend? Who?” He growls and walks toward me. His hand is around my neck before I can breathe and he pins me to the wall. Amazingly, I’m more angry than afraid.
“With eyes like yours.” I say between my teeth. “He said you’re lying to me. Are you?”
His face twists with rage. “Eyes like mine.” He looks away as if to consider what to say or do next. “Damn. I knew I shouldn’t let you go out in the day light.” He lowers his eyes to mine but he is still holding me against the wall. “They are not like us, you know, they hate our kind.”
“Why don’t you tell me about you, Doyle. Your kind.”
His eyes flicker almost red again. “Ah, sweetie. You’re too smart for me.” He purrs as he moves around me, almost like a predator with his prey. “You’ve had it figured out since the first night, remember?”
“Vampire.” I say weakly.
“Or “vrykolakas” as the Greeks would say or “aptrganga” if you prefer the Old Norse word.” He smiles and it sends chills throughout my body. “Those are a few of the name Humans have for us- though none of them fully describe what we are. Yes, sweet one, Vampire, and you’ve invited me in: Remember? That night. At the pool.” He pushes his body against mine, pinning me.
“You lied to me about that.” I choke. “You said we didn’t do anything.”
“Of course I did. It had been so long…aince I’d truly fed off you…” He laughs ruefully as he moves my face very close to mine and I am frozen in place. “I almost killed you that night.” He laughs and kisses me. “You enjoyed it, baby.” His hands grip me. “Until you passed out. In retrospect, I think we might have over done it.”
I fight blackness. It’s like this every time he’s around me and I was too stupid or blind to see it. He’s feeding off of me! I don’t know how, but he’s draining me. I have to keep talking. I have to figure this out.
“Tell me what you want Doyle!” I hiss at him. “If your name really is Doyle!”
“Darling… of course it’s not Doyle. You’d never be able to pronounce it in our language if you tried!”
“What do you want with me?” I swallow and try to focus on him.
“Only to love you.” He kisses me over and over all the while holding me with his iron grip. “For you to love me. To be my host again. Like we were before.”
My host. I don’t know what that is but it sends chills through me. I push away from him with all my strength and try to run. His laughter follows me. In desperation I find the knife block and pull the largest one out. I’m shaking so badly that I can barely hold it up.
Doyle crosses his arms and mocks me. “Honey, you don’t really think you can hurt me now do you?”
I don’t know. All I know is I want answers. He’s going to give them before he kills me…or whatever.
“You’ve been feeding off me.” I say weakly. The darkness is closing in. I feel it creeping around the corners of my eyes. “That’s why…” I try to make a coherent thought. “That’s why I’m so tired all the time.”
“Well if you’d become my host that wouldn’t happen.” He steps closer to me with that same sinister smile and purrs seductively.
“I don’t know. Would it?”
“Of course not. I take care of my hosts. I could never hurt my host.”
Hosts. How many have there been? Hundreds of women he’s fed off of? The room is spinning. Things around me are losing their definition.
“Whattya…” My words are slurring and things are blurring all around me. I try to focus. “Drink my blood?” I demand and he laughs.
“You watch too many movies. Do you feel any bite marks on you?” He shakes his head.
Come to think of it. I don’t. There goes that theory.
“Drink blood? How simply barbaric.” He chuckles to himself and shakes his head at the absurdity of it.
“How then?” I want to know. Before I pass out or die or whatever.
“Just by touch, honey.” He says softly and reaches for me. I blindly slice with the butcher knife. I feel contact with something but at this point I can no longer see.
“Ow! You little heifer! You cut me!” He chuckles and it sends fear sweeping through me. “I will punish you for that, you naughty girl!” He leaps for me and I scream and fight in the darkness. The last thing I remember is the sound of his laughter.
The Life I Left Behind Page 15
