Blood Rose

by Jacquelynn Gagne

  Neesa seemed mostly confused. My eyes rolled at Damien’s ploy in tormenting Neesa. With a sigh, I repeated my story and the warning.

  “Well see there? Nothing bad really happened. She didn’t get hurt and I really don’t think she’s possessed. I mean she still seems normal.”

  “Possessed? Okay this is not The Exorcist and you are totally not a priest so don’t joke.” I laughed. No one said anything. Worst of all no one looked at me for a good two minutes. “You’re not joking.” Silence. “Are you?”

  Neesa twisted herself so she sat cross-legged on my bed staring down at her toe rings as if they were the most fascinated things she had ever seen.

  “Nothing happened. So it doesn’t matter but I do want to know how you’re feeling.” Damien ran his hand against my shoulder, making me shiver and prickle with gooseflesh.

  “Stiff mostly. Sore. Better than I did before. Not a hundred percent by any means but the intense pain is gone.” At least Neesa looked more cheerful with the acclimation.

  “You should go look in the mirror. The bruising is already clearing up. Then you need to drink your tea.” She yawned out the last sentence.

  Damien let me go reluctantly. I slid to the edge of

  the bed and placed both feet on the floor to brace myself to stand. “Moment of truth.” I announced before standing up slowly.

  Honestly, I was prepared to hear a snap crackle pop and nearly collapse as I slowly eased weight from one foot to the other. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt but it was more like a painful twist rather than a full on break.

  “Not bad am I right?” Neesa chirped as she fell over onto her back.

  “We’ll see.” Slowly I walked to the bathroom surprised to see it was nearly four in the morning according to the clock by my bed. Exhaling a heavy breath, I flipped on the bathroom light as I stepped up to the counter and looked in the mirror.

  My stitches were gone. “I had to take them out when you were unconscious. It would have hurt too much if you’d finished healing first.” Damien leaned on the frame of the door.

  A dark line ran down the center of my lip to about half an inch past. It really did look surprisingly better. My cheek wasn’t swollen nor was it quite as sunken in. That would just take time. At least I hoped it would go back to normal.

  My fingers brushed the skin. Tender. It was still bright red but looked much better considering. My nose was bruise blue over the bridge but not at all swollen.

  The biggest miracle to me was my eyes. No black. No blue. No swelling. Not even a puff nor swollen circle. “I take it you approve?” Our eyes met in the mirror.

  “It’s a lot better than before. At least I don’t think you’ll cringe quite so much when you look at me.” I shrugged as if it had been no big deal. I then continued prodding my dinted cheek. My nose. Ow. Both were still pretty sore to the touch. At least I looked better.

  “It wasn’t the bruising that bothered me. It was how it happened. The bruises were just reminders. You’re beautiful to me no matter how black and blue you turn.”

  I couldn’t look at him as he spoke, so I continued to examine my other injuries. My wrist was next. I stretched my hand in front of me. Stretched my fingers. Made a fist. Rotated my wrist. Very sore. I wouldn’t be able to lift much of anything with it for a while yet.

  Still, it was certainly better than before. I was happy to see the stitches were gone but sad to see my lip was going to obviously scar.

  “That includes your scars, by the way.” With nothing else said he turned and left me to myself. It took me a few moments to clean up. Neesa left a small bag of necessities on the counter like toothbrush and paste. Hairbrush.

  When I was done, Neesa was still sitting on my bed. Damien stood back by the window. My bag now lying by the door. It was time to leave. I walked over to the duffle and stuffed the bag of toiletries into it.

  After I drank the weird rock tea, it was time to say goodbye. I shoved the jeans she’d left out for me into the duffle and only pulled on the tank top over the running bra. I probably should have dressed better, looking back on things.

  While finished getting ready, Damien carried everything down to the two vehicles.

  “You sure about the laptop?” Neesa mumbled hesitantly.

  “I only used it for school. You always complain about your desktop so now the laptop is yours. Just do your best to empty the place out as quickly as you can. Paul has a key still. I don’t want him snooping about even if I am gone.”

  “Of course. Ryce and I will come back tomorrow and get everything moved. Promise. The laptop. I guess I’ll hang on to it. Till you come back.” It killed me seeing her upset. I hugged her tightly to me. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her yet. Though I was exceedingly grateful Damien wasn’t pushing us to hurry.

  “I still have my cell. Soon as I change the number tomorrow I will text you. And just in case you have Damien’s number now. Apologize to Mike for me. Tell him to promote Angie she kicks ass. She’ll save him a headache.” Neesa nodded to my instructions but barely cracked a smile in the end.

  “What about Paul? What should I tell him?” I cringed. She didn’t seem thrilled either. I wondered briefly how much she knew. It took a moment to realize she wouldn’t have been so calm if she’d seen what had already happened.

  “Tell him the same thing you tell everyone else. He shouldn’t know anything else for right now. If you have to, tell him I was sick of my life here.” It wasn’t a total lie.

  Neesa and I hugged goodbye one last time by the door. Despite what she said, I believed it was likely the last time we would see each other. “Please stay safe, Anna... Our world was not meant for humans. They don’t last long once they find their way in.”

  There was nothing I could say. All I could do was smile and nod. Neesa went up to Damien and took a deep breath. “She’s human.”

  He nodded understandingly.

  “I mean it, Damien. She needs more than your protection. You have to make her eat at least twice a day, otherwise she won’t. The Chinese food I put in your back seat. You have a fridge at your place?”

  “Yes ma’am.” He wasn’t mocking her.

  “K. Get it in the fridge soon as you get back to your place, it will last her a couple of days. There’s a few grocery sacks too. Her Red Bull and Fiji water. Make her drink more than just the Red Bull.” He smirked slightly and nodded.

  “She’s human, Damien.” Neesa’s hands were trembling.

  His hand reached out and took a hold of her arm. Their eyes locked. “I will take care of her Neesa. You have my word.”

  She nodded rapidly. Her mouth set to a grim line. “If you really mean it... I want it in blood.”

  His brows lift with mild surprise. Without a beat of hesitation, he held his hand out to her palm up. I watched quietly. Curious, and yet something stirred inside of me that felt almost daunting.

  Nodding approvingly Neesa pulled something from her pocket. I couldn’t tell what it was from where I stood.

  “I will protect her and care for her in every way that my body is able, until I am no longer able. I swear it in blood.”

  Without hesitating, Damien brought his hand to his mouth and bit deep into the palm. He squeezed his hand over her open hand. Blood poured in a small stream to fill her palm.

  “I bind you to your promise, Damien. As a Descendant of Maya I will see this blood promise kept. You are bound.” Her hand closed around the object. His hands came up and closed around hers. Their eyes met once more. He nodded solemnly before they parted ways without another word. Neesa smiled sadly at me as she climbed into her car.

  Damien came to stand beside me as she drove away. “Are you going to explain what just happened?” I looked up to him. His hand came up and brushed my cheek softly.

  Without a word he took my hand and opened the door to his Jeep. Hands on my hips he lifted me to my seat and shut the door.

  XVI

  “IMPOSSIBLE POSSIBILITIES”

  “So
what happens now?” I didn’t know what else to say to him.

  “Now we go home.”

  A song suddenly came to mind. A gothic lullaby, Sally’s song. “Do you listen to much Amy Lee?”

  As we drove past a streetlamp, I saw his lips twist into a slight smirk. A remote was held to his dash next to the system by some magnet contraption. It looked like the key pad of a phone. Without hesitation, he punched in a number and hit play.

  * * * * *

  “I can’t believe you had that.” Yes, it was a daunting melody. But I loved it. Hell, I loved pretty much everything by Amy Lee. Which of course he kept playing for me.

  “Sweetheart, anything you want to listen to I probably already have. I’ve been known to lock myself in a room for days on end and do nothing more than lie on the floor and listen to music.”

  All I could do was smile at that. I’d done the same thing plenty of times. “So what do you think she meant anyway? All of the answers are in the blood. I mean that just sounds creepy.”

  “It is understandable. If you think about it, I am a Vampire. Blood is a pretty big factor there. Did you ask her any specific questions?”

  “She wouldn’t answer in detail. It ended too quickly.” Damien glanced at me from the corner of his eye. Something told me he didn’t agree entirely.

  I was reminded of Neesa mentioning possession and I shuddered slightly. Quickly I pushed the thoughts out of my mind. It didn’t get past his notice though.

  “I did get one thing from her, come to think of it. She said the dreams were a story, a very important story.”

  “Hmm.” His brow knit. His left elbow propped against the sill of the down window, fingers against his chin.

  “Tell me.”

  His brows lift as he looked over at me. “Is it possible she just wanted someone to know? I’ve heard of spirits reaching out, not like this but in other ways- just because they needed someone to know what had happened to them. You have to admit, her story is incredible. Whatever the demons were, this was more than just an injustice.”

  Damien let me sit and think on it. He was good at that- far more patient than I was. “Okay but why repeat the dreams over and over and over? Why do I keep reliving her death? Why me? Did I tell you that we needed to feel their pain? Or she said something like that.”

  “Do you remember what all she said?”

  I paraphrased the best I could while still banishing the memory of him being a part of the dreams from my mind completely and utterly. “It was very peculiar. Illusive. I am real. I am dead. Though here I am so there for I live. Thanks to you, which is thanks to me. The dreams are a story. A very old very important story. We need to feel their pain. If you’re to survive what is coming you must listen. They are coming for blood. They will destroy everything. You must stop them. You must listen. The key is in the blood. There is great power in sacrifice. There is life in death. The magic is there. Have faith.”

  With my window down, I curled up in the seat with my head near the window. The road took us through valleys and small mountain peaks. Twisting turns and slow winding roads.

  It was a full moon and there was not a single cloud in the sky. The forest was lit with an eerie beautiful blue glow. Fireflies danced through the sky like stars themselves. The drive was beautiful with an eerie calm to the night. I should have known better than to trust in the peace.

  I had been way off on the distance from Damien’s place from Burlington. I’m not sure why I noticed now and not before that he lived in Manchester.

  Maybe he liked the neighborhood? The incredibly pricey homes? The distance and seclusion from pretty much everything? I probably only noticed because for once we were not going over a hundred and twenty.

  We talked a lot on the drive. Personal history. Mostly mine. He didn’t like talking about himself or his family. I didn’t even know their names. Nor any of his past for that matter. I went over the long list of my bigger injuries. Bike wrecks. Ski accidents.

  The year I tried snowboarding was the worst. The wake board incident. The jet sky incident. The boating accident. Camping horror stories. He found my history painfully amusing from what I gathered. I loved camping. Camping just didn’t love me. He was grinning ear to ear. It was sort of sardonic.

  For the rest of the drive we did not talk about the present. We did not talk about the future.

  He asked how I came to work at Riads. He asked about school. Promised I could finish my degree if I chose to. Though it would be online. Neither of us had to say it. I just knew. Didn’t mind.

  We discussed the reasons for my fluidity in multiple languages. French and Spanish? French was very common locally being so close to Canada. And anywhere in America, Spanish was spoken. Best to know both I figured.

  Russian and Italian? Italian was pretty close to Spanish so it was easy to learn. I’d always dreamed of going to Italy.

  He insisted he’d take me. I laughed because it sounded like a dream. Fantastic. Impossible. It would turn out that I was mostly right.

  Then finally! He spoke of himself. For the first several hundred years he roamed the European countryside, though rarely did he stray far from Italy. Was he Italian? He laughed and shook his head no. Just loved the country. He went on at length describing things I had only read about in books. I was entranced.

  Back to me. Sigh. I wanted to know more about him.

  My grandmother had been Russian and refused to speak English. I thought it was awesome that I was the only one who could talk to her easily and I often translated for her. I recalled a time when I was five and I had to translate for her on the telephone to her bank because I was more fluent than anyone else in the family even then. He chuckled. It was the first time I did so for her but not the last.

  I told Damien all about living with my grandmother. My Babushka. Though she tried, she failed in teaching me to cook but I could play chess like a pro and I could play almost every card game thinkable thanks to her. Babushka loved to gamble. She would bet her candies and I would bet my cheese crackers. I missed her every day. She had known about the dreams and never once looked at me as if there were something wrong with me.

  His Russian wasn’t bad but his Italian was positively beautiful. Simply because we could and mostly because I loved the sound of his voice, we spoke in Italian for the rest of the drive.

  As we pulled up to the house, it seemed to be glowing. The moss creeping up the sides of the gray stone looked sapphire blue in the moonlight. Every time I saw this place, coming or going, it left me in a wondrous awe.

  The windows were a gleaming black giving the ancient stonework a mystique radiance of its own. Unlike much of the Colonial style I was used to, this place seemed even older with its Victorian modeling. A fairytale cottage over grown into a small mansion.

  The molding was deep red oak. Everything else was done in raw stone. The house was large with an elegant deep-set porch leading to the massive red oak door. Complete with cast iron hinges. I could fall in love with a place like this, all nestled into the woods unseen from any road.

  My door opened as usual because he moved so much faster than I could. I climbed out of the Jeep, holding his extended hand as he grabbed my duffle bag out of the back seat with his other. Still in Italian. “This things a Hummer.”

  He chuckled. “It’s a Rubicon sweets. Not a Hummer.”

  “Well then it’s a baby Hummer.” Utter defiance!

  “Sweetheart, Hummer’s are not even made by the same company as Rubicon. Rubicon’s are Jeep.” His lips were fighting a grin.

  Mine grinned devilishly back up at him. “Baby Hummer.”

  “If you want to see a Hummer then you should see my brothers. Now he- has a Hummer. I prefer the Jeep myself.” His lips could fight me no longer.

  We teased and played cat and mouse around the Jeep. He chased me into the house. Pinned me to a wall in the foyer where he dropped my bag. He chased me to the stairs where he pinned me again. Neither of us could stop smiling.

&
nbsp; He nipped the straps of my shirt against the flesh of my shoulders. Took a hold of me and pulled me against him. Silently I wished he’d never let go. His lips hovered against my ear. “Do. Not. Move.” His lips brushed my cheek and then he was gone.

  I sat on the stairs waiting patiently in the exact same sprawled position he’d left me. I listened to the front door. Car door. Front door. Fridge. I laughed.

  “A promise is a promise.” He smirked innocently but the gleam in his eye said the subject was not as light as teased.

  “Yes of course.” My arms wrapped around his neck as he came back to me. His hands slid beneath me taking a tight hold of my hips and lifting me up with him as he stood. My legs wrapped around him securely. He turned and rested against the wall, supporting me easily

  with one arm.

  I couldn’t hold it back any longer, I needed answers. “What is a blood promise, Damien? What did Neesa ask you to do?”

  He sighed. Before I knew it we were at the top of the stairs. The move had taken less than a second. My arms were strangling him but he only laughed. It was a weak laugh.

  He walked at a leisurely pace down a hall that I did not see and into a room I didn’t notice. Turning, he fell onto a bed that may as well have been invisible to me. All I saw was him.

  Damien held me so that I sat on his hips. I couldn’t help but giggle.

  His smile tugged at one corner of his lips. Bringing a hand up to brush my hair back from my face and behind my ear he let out a soft sigh. “I swore to her that I would take care of you and that I would protect you.”

  “What did she make you do, Damien? Why did you bite your hand?” I shook my head, disbelieving and not understanding what he’d done nor why.

  Damien sighed. “For Neesa, it was assurance. To swear in blood for a supe is binding in every way. There have been those who’ve died for breaking a blood promise.”

  With my heart hammering loudly my breath caught in my throat. “Would you die? If you broke the promise?”