“But aren’t you frightened?” Evangeline's eyes grew wide.
“Yes. And it’s dangerous, of course. But I have this.” Charlotte held out the small, silvery whistle, inscribed with a scrawling cursive C on one side and the face of the moon on the other. It glistened in the dim starlight. “Valek always comes when he hears this.”
A little ways down where the crop fields started, Charlotte noticed something stirring between the stalks caught Evangeline’s attention. The Witch grabbed Charlotte’s shoulder, wrinkling her nose.
“Wait,” she whispered. “There’s one.” She indicated with a long, manicured talon.
Charlotte squinted, sifting through the shadows, but it was too dark for her to see.
“Let me handle this.” Evangeline grinned.
“You really don’t have to do that—”
“I want to. Trust me.”
Charlotte watched as Evangeline sauntered up the grassy bank, leaving her standing, arms folded, in the middle of the dirt road.
The man creeping through the tall crops, undoubtedly up to some sort of bad behavior, stopped moving and analyzed the length of the sorceress in front of him. Charlotte felt her stomach turn. Hunting would be so much easier if I looked like Evangeline.
“Good evening.” He smiled wryly, undressing her with his human eyes.
“Hello.” She smiled back. “You're out a little late, aren’t you?”
The man, clearly having escaped from somewhere, rubbed at his torn, right sleeve. “Yes. And yourself as well.”
“My friend and I are traveling this road alone, and I think we’re extremely lost.” She giggled. A light flashed in her eyes and suddenly the mortal seemed to instantly turn to butter in Evangeline’s hand.
He chuckled back. “Where are you headed?” he asked, the smile not leaving his handsome, spellbound face. “Perhaps I can help.”
“South,” she said, and gave no further information. She glanced back once at Charlotte.
“Well, I suppose I could accompany you until we reach the next town.”
He offered his arm. She accepted. The moment her flesh touched his, all human qualities in his face fizzled, flickering out in his eyes like an extinguished candle flame.
Charlotte’s head cocked to one side upon seeing Evangeline's effects. Amazing. She probably had those powers against all men. Charlotte sighed. Maybe Valek really didn’t have an advantage against Evangeline last night.
Evangeline and the man started walking back down the grassy bank to the dirt road.
She was watching the two walk and laugh together, though the man’s laugh was hollow and enchanted, when she heard a low rumble crawl up her spine and into her ears. Charlotte dropped her arms to her sides.
Evangeline and the man froze also, looking past her to what was standing just behind.
“Charlotte….” Evangeline squeaked.
Charlotte slowly twisted her head around to see a half-phased Lycan standing there, lower parts like a man and fangs dripping; its slanted eyes fixated on her horrified face. She recognized the scar on the left eye and slight indentation in its head from when they had first met in the tree tunnel. It was guarding the Occult border; Charlotte suddenly found herself in heaps of trouble.
She gingerly slid her hand up to her chest for her whistle when the wolf struck her with its massive claw, sending the glimmering object hurtling out of her hand. Its claws left deep gashes in her arm as she tumbled face first to the ground.
Charlotte coughed up a thick clod of dirt and rolled onto her back, trying to fill her lungs with air instead. The animal loomed over her, a low grumble bristling the fur around its neck, its nose almost grazing hers. A bloodcurdling scream ripped out from her chest.
She heard the mortal man yell from somewhere behind her. “We have to do something!”
“The whistle, Evangeline!” Charlotte yelled from underneath the wolf. “Get the whistle!”
Evangeline, who had been frozen in a state of terror, suddenly snapped and ran for the little silver thing twinkling in the dirt. The wolf diverted its attention to her, leapt away from Charlotte, lunged for Evangeline, who now had the whistle clasped tightly in her hand. Evangeline shrieked when something small darted in front of the large animal, intercepting it from her.
Charlotte rolled on her elbows and saw the small body the wolf was now thrashing around with in the dirt was Edwin. The sound of burlap ripping made bile crawl up Charlotte’s esophagus. She could see piles of stuffing spilling out one of Edwin’s limbs.
“Edwin!” She stumbled forward, tripping as she ran for the beast. She lacked a plan, but her mind was clouded with the image of Edwin’s body. Charlotte leapt onto the beast’s back and pounded on it with her fists as it continued to snarl and tear.
Someone else jumped on next to her. In a flash of moonlight, she saw it was the mortal man before she was thrown off into the dirt again. The wolf-man vaulted away from the now lifeless pile of rags and back at Charlotte, pinning her to the ground. It dug its claws deep into her shoulders as she cried out.
Evangeline blew the whistle with all her might; the sound trilled high above the growling.
The Lycan was about to tear Charlotte’s face off when a silver shadow gunned through the night and slammed into the beast at full force.
The two skidded several feet through the dirt. They tangled, throat for throat, limb for limb in the darkness. Vampire and Lycanthrope. Evangeline ran over, pulled Charlotte into her lap and held her as they watched both figures roll and tumble with each other, growling and flashing silvery fangs and claws.
Valek roared, clutching the half-wolf by the neck and sent it flying into an elm, its body crunching against the impact of the thick trunk.
The human man, his clothes soaked in his own blood and dirt, stared wildly at the four of them. First Evangeline, then Charlotte, next Valek, and finally the wolf whimpering on the ground. He watched as it twitched. It fought to get up, stumbling over itself and shaking its head before it set off deep into the forest, disappearing in the heavy shadows.
“Let him go.” Valek sighed through his exhaustion. He rolled over onto his back and panted. “He’ll die soon enough. He’s too weak.” He inhaled slowly, seeming to smell the fresh blood lingering in the air. His nostrils flared, and he snapped his neck in the direction of the one closest to him, eyes enveloped in black.
Both Charlotte and Evangeline stared in horror at the Vampire they thought they knew so well. The monster before them, however, seemed altogether different. His gentle mannerisms had sunken somewhere deep in the dark waters of his mind. He looked at Charlotte as a shark would look at bleeding bait. The drunken passion behind his wild gaze surfaced as he stumbled toward her, fangs gleaming behind parted lips. He moaned softly, tortured, aroused, hungry.
Creeping ever closer, he got to his knees, sinking one claw in the soft dirt. He leaned in so close to her face, she could feel his cold breath on her eyelashes. She pressed her back more firmly against Evangeline’s shoulder.
“Charlotte—” he hissed. The sound of his voice was foreign and serpentine as it slid from behind his lips. Her pulse quickened in her throat and she willed it to steady, shutting her eyes.
Charlotte felt Evangeline’s grip on her tighten.
“Yes, Valek. It’s Charlotte. It’s Lottie,” Evangeline soothed.
Valek’s wild gaze did not leave Charlotte’s throat. “Lottie—” He breathed again, saying the word, but attaching no comprehendible recognition.
Charlotte swallowed and bravely pulled away from Evangeline. She inched closer to Valek, looking directly into his eyes. The sound of her pulse was as vibrant in her own ears as she was sure it was in his.
“Yes, Valek. Little Lottie.” She smiled and hummed the familiar lullaby he had always hummed to her when she was afraid. The same song when the Fairy had attacked her in his office, and when the thunderstorms had scared her. “Little Lottie,” she sang again.
Something human grasped a
t the flickering light in his eyes, and he withdrew from her. He stood back up, fighting hard with himself, forcing to turn away.
“L-Lottie.” His breathing was staggered as his hands balled into fists against his eyes, rubbing them feverishly. His focus turned on the other mortal who was staring at them, a petrified mess in the dirt.
The man writhed on the ground, trying his hardest to stand and run. But something cracked in his hip, causing him to arch backward and cry out. His head pressed to the ground. Tears drenched his bloody face.
Valek’s eyes glazed over again. He bent to the ground at the man’s side. “That is a lovely smell,” he whispered. Valek reared back, as a cobra would, and struck, sinking his fangs deep into the mortal’s jugular.
Evangeline let out a tiny scream as Charlotte buried her face in the Witch’s angular shoulder. Evangeline tried to cover Charlotte’s ears so she would not have to hear the man’s inevitable demise.
***
Warm, thick ichor rushed past Valek’s lips and ran slick down his throat like hot, sweet molasses. He held the human’s neck secure to him as he swallowed heartily, enjoying the grapple as the man clawed and shoved. He listened to his wild heartbeat, like the pulsation of a thousand hornets. The man’s life pooled around Valek’s lips, the smell singeing his nostrils.
Finally, the human was drained, finished, and Valek came up for air. He craned his head toward the moon as the leftovers swam in a string of garnet down the side of his face. The animal in him disappeared, and even though some of the feeling still stuck at the forefront of his consciousness, he was at least sane again. He slowly got to his feet and turned to see Evangeline quaking, clutching Charlotte as though she were a small child.
Valek frowned then knelt beside them again with a wary look toward the Witch. He placed a cool hand on his Charlotte’s shoulder.
Charlotte’s head immediately shot up, her eyes drenched. That was the first time she had ever looked at him like this. Like a monster. He hushed her, running his long fingers down her cheek.
“I am so sorry, Lottie,” he said sadly. This time he really had done permanent damage. “Don’t cry.” He caught a tear that lingered on her face.
Charlotte’s knees shook like they might cave. She saw the heap of burlap and stuffing on the road. Edwin, the once enchanted rag doll, lay dead in the mix of fur and dirt. She looked to Evangeline again, a plea in her eyes this time.
“I can fix him.” A tear rolled down the Witch’s bloodless face. “I promise. It will be…easy.”
Charlotte nodded, finally starting to feel a little less numb as the onset of sadness began to swell at the bottom of her throat. She didn’t say anything. Instead, she got up and gazed down at the tow of them. The glamorous Witch’s hair was caked to her face with dirt and sweat, though she was still just as beautiful as she ever was. Charlotte glanced at Valek one last time.
Valek, Charlotte’s only confidant in the world, was now beyond recognizable to her—their differences painfully apparent. She would never be close to what he was. She was the prey, a link in his food chain. She’d never felt so far removed from him. Not when he argued with her about sneaking into his bedroom. Not even when she’d found him with Evangeline the night before—her worst fear realized.
She ran back down the dirt road. Back to her home, to where it always used to be safe. Back to where things were familiar. She ran as the wind dried the tears on her face. She ran until all she could think about was the path in front of her. She ran, leaving Valek, Evangeline, and a crumpled little Edwin behind.
Chapter Eight
Reservations
Valek surprised Charlotte when she breathlessly stumbled through the front door. Of course he had beaten her home. The air was blazing in her tattered lungs. There was nowhere else for her to run to now.
“Why did you run?”
Valek’s lips peeled over his fangs when she didn’t answer him immediately. He stormed up and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Why did you run away?” he demanded again, shaking her. “It’s me, Charlotte.”
It was all too much for her. She collapsed to her knees. Meredith Price had been right. Valek was a monster.
Valek, keeping his hold on her, also lowered to the floor, transforming his grasp into an embrace instead. She pressed her face into the hollow of his collarbone, wishing it had been a comfortable feeling, like it always used to be.
“It’s just me, Lottie.”
Now he cried, his tears washing his eyes red. Charlotte looked down as they splashed in ruby beads on the floor beside her. “You are safe with me. I promise you that. I don’t know what happened to me out there,” he whispered.
She looked up at him, attempting desperately to steady her breathing, but it continued to break in involuntary gulps, like small children did when they could not control their crying fits. Charlotte closed her eyes against the sight of him, but still felt his weight all around her. She pulled away and quietly got to her feet. After one silent moment looking down at him, she traipsed up the stairs to her bedroom, feeling his gaze on her back the whole way up. She carefully guarded her thoughts until she was away.
She moved over to her vanity mirror and gaped at the streaks of brown caked on her face and clothes. She forced her breaths to come out even and used the side of her desk as a crutch. The soft breeze outside her open window cooled her hot face as she tried to shift one of her shoulders, still drenched with the drying blood. She flinched. The wound stung where the cotton clung to it.
She leaned in a little closer to the mirror, tenderly pulling away her sweater to examine the lacerations further, when Valek’s dark reflection in the mirror made her jump. She spun around to see him looming there sadly against her doorsill.
Charlotte responded by averting her gaze to the floor.
He approached her and lifted his hands without a word to her to examine her.
When she didn’t offer, he said, “I need to mend this, Charlotte, before the wounds become infected. Your body temperature is already a bit high.”
Charlotte gingerly shifted her arm to him, wincing as it moved.
He looked closely at the gash, trying to pull the fabric away to see the damage more clearly.
“I cannot assess how serious this is.” His voice was stoic and empty. If it were possible, which she didn’t think it was, Charlotte’s heart sank a little further. “You’re going to have to take that off.” He rolled up his sleeves.
She froze for a minute, remembering she had nothing on underneath, other than her bra. Blood pooled to her face, and she bit down on her lip. She looked up at Valek who was staring back numbly, but expectantly. Slowly, she turned and began peeling off the sweater, in spite of the voice in her head that had suddenly begun protesting very loudly. He had known her since she was in diapers after all. This wasn’t so bad.
The article of clothing dropped in a heap on the floor by her feet. When she faced him, she heard Valek clear his throat, as if her actions made him nervous as well. Perhaps she should have listened to the voice.
He squinted at the deep gashes in her shoulders, taking one frail arm in his frigid talons. Her heart pounded so frantically, she bet he could see it leaping through her skin. A cool sweat began to form on her brow.
“This is very deep,” he diagnosed with a sigh. “Come downstairs, please, so I can clean it and close it up.” He kept his tone even as he led the way out of the room.
Charlotte meekly followed, making the wood creak beneath her. Her mind flickered back to Meredith Price again as she glanced down at the blood drying on her body. The dull stench of rust and iron circled her. It was probably much more prevalent to Valek, she suspected. The inevitable words resounded in her head once more.
‘Vampire.’
‘You can never be too careful.’
Valek opened the door to his stark office The walls and cabinets were white, sterile almost to the point of being eerie. They did not match the rest of their home at all. This room seemed lifeless, w
hich was appropriate. Being here instantly made her uncomfortable as she began to go through all of the deaths that she knew had happened here. A chill suddenly kissed the tops of her shoulders and she hugged herself.
“Have a seat,” Valek instructed forbearingly, gesturing to the large, leather office chair behind his massive, slate desk. The lack of tone in his voice was unnerving. It sounded hollow and metallic. His eyes seemed to be made of slate.
He went into the cabinet under the sink in the corner and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, suture thread, and white gauze to wrap the wounds in. She watched him carefully, wanting so badly to articulate what she was thinking. She wanted to ask him questions, to solve the problems, but her tongue stayed swollen in her mouth. She just sat there quietly, her eyes fixed on his face, searching for any sign of emotion at all as he walked back over to her.
He leaned casually on the corner of his desk and started to dab the blood away with the alcohol. Charlotte flinched. The smell of it invaded the entire room; Charlotte could tell he still wasn’t breathing.
“Look away, please.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.
He started to sew up the gashes in her left shoulder. Wincing every time the needle poked through her skin, she clawed at the chair arms. Her teeth ground together as she chose something to focus on, deciding to fix her gaze on a drawing of hers that hung on the wall in a black-wire frame. It was a colored-pencil version of both of them, in front of a box meant to resemble their house. Something she had given him when she was ten. The simplicity of the colored markings made her smile. Only he would have found it beautiful enough to put in a stupid frame.
“Done,” he said, releasing her.
She looked at him, surprised. It seemed like it didn’t take any time at all. She got up from his chair. “Thank you.” Without another word, she walked out of the office.
Of Light and Darkness Page 9
