Unrequited

by Camille Oster

  "Thank you for taking me," she said, a smile breaking across her lips, but the assuredness that had been before wasn't quite there. Her eyes searched his. Maybe on some level she was seeking assurance too, but there was no way of providing it for her. The feelings she had were going to recede and her own feeling re-emerge, feeling which more resembled distrust and maybe even disgust. The true Melisande was too wary of him to ever like him, and she had every right to be.

  The intrusion into his life was over—so was the teasing, the coaxing and the sweetness. It was time to end this reprieve, to set the course of the world back on the right heading, the one that should be. This was never the right of it—an aberration.

  He hated seeing the uncertainty in her eyes, betraying thoughts underneath wondering what she was doing here, with him. She remembered it all, but didn’t understand. This was not the place she wanted to be. Melisande didn't revel in the demonic world, seeing it as a blight and a threat, one she wished would go away. She was a human and wanted a simple human life, with a boyfriend who took her to dinner and the opera. Then a husband with whom she had ordinary human children.

  Her fingers untwined from his and pulled away, a touch she had insisted on for some long. Now it was starting to feel unnatural to her, her mind no doubt struggling to understand her own behavior over the last month. "I think it's getting warmer," she said brightly. "It's always nice to see the seasons change."

  "Yes," he said. He felt her eyes searching him, seeking to understand the choices she'd made—to get involved with what she essentially saw as her enemy. "Should we… ?" She couldn't finish the sentence.

  Adaeus turned to look at her, her beautiful face marred with a deep frown. "I think it is perhaps time for you to go home."

  "Yes," she said with relief. Still, she would never be able to reconcile what she saw as the choices she'd made—would never understand them. At some point she might even grow suspicious that he had had a hand in this. She was intelligent enough that she would eventually question the strangeness of these developments.

  "We'll just get some of your things." Adaeus blinked and looked out the window. This episode was now ending. The girl who had stormed into his life, insisting on enriching it was now storming out again. He would have his life back—to work uninterrupted, to sleep undisturbed and to preoccupy himself with the things needed to run this empire without the distraction of soft touches and breathy sighs.

  The car pulled in by the entrance of the mansion. Before stepping out of the car, Adaeus opened the small cabinet of useful things in the back of the car and withdrew a vial. He stepped out and walked around to her door, holding his hand to her as she stepped out, noticing that slight look of uncertainty. Her distrust had certainly returned, now battling with the idea that she had chosen to be with him.

  "I'll just get… "

  He waited until she turned away toward the house. For some reason, he didn't want her to see what he was about to do to her, didn't want to see fear in her eyes. Using his strength to draw her back, his hand holding her head to his shoulder. She struggled against his firm hold on her and he brought the vial to her mouth and poured its contents in. The shocked sound of betrayal cut, but this had to be done. He held his hand over her mouth, her head clamped to his shoulder, unable to fight his strength, she had no choice but to swallow the liquid. "Hush," he said quietly and in a moment, she slumped. Catching her, he carried her back into the car, laying her down on the seat. "Take Miss Samra home," he said to the driver. "Take Ramone to make sure she is safe. I want nothing to happen to her."

  Closing the door, he turned back to the house, walking up the stairs and into the large hall. Ringing silence met his ears as he closed the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he walked to his study and sat down. An intelligence briefing report sat on his desk. He'd been meaning to read it yesterday, but had been distracted away from it. There would be no more distractions.

  Her chair sat by the fireplace, empty in the silent room. He should be pleased that the messiness and disruption she had brought into his life was over, but he didn't quite feel the relief of it. There was even a hint of panic, but he dismissed it.

  Time to return to what he was, what he'd always be. Staring at the chair again, he knew he should have it removed, but he couldn't quite bring himself to. On some level, it felt like she would walk through that door any minute and claim her perch, her clear and pretty eyes seeking him. But the reality was that she was gone now, a person who had lived for a month and now disappeared, and the person who bore her body and face was now an entirely different being—who, thanks to this potion he’d forced into her, would have no memory of his Melisande.

  Chapter 35:

  * * *

  Adaeus' black robes draped across his thigh as he sat in the back of the town car, watching as the spring scenery passed by outside. Humans going about their business, buying their children ice cream, or taking their ludicrous dogs for walks. It all seemed so pointless. Small lives with infinitesimal concerns.

  "It seems the Halmont family is the origin of the plan to unseat you," Tarquin said, breaking the silence of the car. "I have Nolan Halmont in the cells below the house."

  Adaeus sighed. The greedy never learned and there was a danger in appearing too soft—greedy people perceived you actually were soft.

  "What shall we do with him?" Tarquin asked.

  "Keep him there for a while. Let's ensure the Halmont family's compliance." Madame Halmont had been one of Adaeus’ father's contemporaries, and age had not mellowed the old hag. She'd never risk her own son—yet she'd never expected this as an outcome. It seemed illogical to Adaeus, but then maybe the community needed a reminder about who was in charge and why.

  "Take the daughter as well," Adaeus said. The daughter was likely, for all intents and purposes, innocent, but that would be more meaningful.

  Tarquin remained silent, returning his attention to the road ahead. "Has she returned to work?"

  "It appears she will be there today, after some medical examinations to seek the cause of her memory loss. It seems they concluded some toxin she'd ingested had a temporary effect on her."

  "Are you sure this is all worth the hassle?"

  Adaeus closed his eyes. He had no idea how to answer the question. At the moment it felt as though the only thing he could do. Was he prepared to not see her today? Was he prepared to not see her ever again? Not doing so would perhaps be the best course of action, but it wasn't one he could bring himself to enact.

  "The planning for Castran’s wedding is progressing," Tarquin said. "Castran isn't strictly willing, but neither is he unwilling. I think he is accepting that it is necessary."

  "He has no other choice." Well, he could rebel and run away, leaving his life and community to live with people who would never understand him, but he was too pragmatic a boy to do that. "What is her name again?"

  "Claudine."

  "She is a good choice for him. Her family is a strong faction, and he'd be doing himself a favor keeping them onside."

  The car arrived at the municipal building. Adaeus felt both dread and excitement, wishing he felt neither. These unwelcome emotions were the price he paid for her life. A part of him said this was not worth it, and another said he must pay. The driver opened the door and he stepped outside into light spring drizzle.

  They progressed upstairs to the rooms where the negotiations were ongoing. A cavernous room with eighteenth century murals, preserved from the time before the human populace had rebelled and decimated their own ruling class. That was what happened when you weren't strong enough. All that was left were old murals.

  She sat there across the table, her hair in a tight bun, glasses resting on her slight nose. She perused her papers as they entered, her slim fingers turning a sheet over, a tactic to attempt to communicate she found no pleasure in this. Finally, she looked up, her eyes finding him. No recognition flickered in there. Her mouth tightened with her distaste. She hated the demonic community�
��saw them as imposters that were too powerful to get rid of, like the Mongols who had spread over most of the world at one point in the past.

  "Mr. Chartrice, Mr. Chartrice," she said in greeting, her tone cold.

  "Miss Samra," Adaeus said, the sounds of her name graceful over his lips. There had been so many times he'd called her that, entrenched in the sweetness of her, flesh against flesh, driven by pure want.

  "I believe we were discussing the enforcement of law around members of your community infringing on the laws of human society."

  "As we discussed before, it is not something we deem necessary as the demonic world will enact punishment for any such infringement."

  "The issue is, Mr. Chartrice, that your punishments are often inhumane and we cannot abide by them."

  "Perhaps the answer lies in your very statement. We are not human, as you put it."

  She bristled with distaste and he didn't like seeing the reproach in her eyes. He remembered them soft and yielding, swayed by delight.

  He could have that again. He could recreate her, keep her like that for as long as he wanted—which would likely be her natural life. Finding someone to brew a love potion, well, one that didn't ultimately kill its victim was hard, but it wasn't impossible. Apparently the Halmonts had a supplier.

  She could be kept accepting, her life's purpose to be with him. The temptation was certainly there; there was no denying it. The opportunity was there, too, but the knowledge would eventually grate on him, knowing she wasn't there by choice, wondering if down on some level she would know she was being manipulated and deceived.

  Would he be happy pretending it wasn't all false? Would he be able to live with it year after year?

  "I am not sure that is an answer we can tolerate," she continued.

  Or would she make him weak—distracted when he needed to pay attention? "It is never going to be your affair to exert punishment on a member of my community."

  "But how will we know you are actually enacting punishment? We would not. You might not even try. We know from past actions exactly how much a human life is worth to you," she said harshly. Adaeus actually felt the sting of the statement—not for the humans that the demonic world had trampled on, because that was, in essence, just natural order, but in terms of her, he felt the sting. What did he think of taking her life and wishes away from her?

  The truth was that he was more concerned for the weakness it would pose to him and his family than to her, and perhaps there was something in that disregard that stayed his hand. It was contradictory, that he respected her enough to not show the disrespect he clearly felt, as if he cared that she deserved better.

  "Our punishments are harsh, Miss Samra. In fact, we have one coming up shortly, for someone who acted against the good of the community. If you need proof that we enact them, I can ensure your presence when the time comes," he said and watched her pale. She thought him barbaric, and in her eyes, he was. There wasn't even curiosity about him or his community; her opposition to him was complete. Seduction of her would be unlikely without compromising her opinions and thoughts.

  "Means I am sure would never be acceptable to modern day theories on punishment and enforcement, Mr. Chartrice; hence why we insist there must be some way of us dealing with wayward action against us. We are talking around in circles, Mr. Chartrice. I assure you, your methods will never be acceptable."

  "Then we have yet another impasse, don't we, Miss Samra, like so many other."

  Adaeus knew this discussion would continue for months, requiring him to watch those soft lips grow tight, and beautiful eyes consider him harshly. For a while, she had been all the softness in the world, and here she was, refusing to show the remotest indication it existed within her.

  Desire for her sat like a cloying taste in his mouth, wanting her, down into the most unrefined parts of him, but he couldn't. Without intent, he'd been thoroughly seduced. Even now he could feel the soft skin of her thighs. The Halmonts' intentions had been to weaken him, and they had succeeded, probably more than they realized, enough to make him itch to steal her away, keep her with him like some fairy tale ogre. That would be the way she would see it.

  "I think we are done for today," he said and rose, finding he couldn't sit there staring at her any longer. His resolution was wavering and she had no idea how close she was to losing her life in the human world, and everything she stood for. No, she had no idea how punishment worked in the demonic world. Without a doubt, it was a cruel thing.

  *

  Adaeus sat in the parlor prior to dinner, nursing the finest whiskey money could buy. The crystal tumbler sparkled in the firelight. The silence of the house was oppressive and it had been since the moment he'd sent her back. His fingers itched for her, even as he knew he shouldn't. With time, this would pass; he would grow used to the silence and solitude again.

  Tarquin entered the parlor and headed for the bar, pouring himself a drink. He sat down in one of the other chairs. Adaeus knew he still kept tabs on Cassandra, a soldier he had irrationally released from punishment for dereliction of duty, yet his son still refused to compromise on his decision. Tarquin never confided his feelings, but it wasn't difficult to guess there were feeling; hence, the irrational choices.

  "Is Castran in tonight?" Adaeus asked.

  "He is here," Tarquin said. "I have told him to come down for dinner."

  They waited in silence. Adaeus wasn't in the mood to discuss affairs tonight, still feeling… tender from seeing Miss Samra that day.

  "There seems to have been no ill effects on her," Tarquin said and Adaeus knew who he was referring to.

  "No," Adaeus said curtly and took a sip of his drink. If Tarquin knew the impact of the episode had been more far reaching than a mere nuisance, he didn't let on.

  Castran appeared, looking slightly more sullen since he'd accepted the eventuality of his marriage. There was no denying he hadn't been the same since having to deal with his ghost.

  Feelings were at the center of all their ill fortunes this year, and it had been a difficult year for the Chartrices for that exact reason. Love; it burrowed in and consumed from the inside. Love could not be created by a potion or a spell, or even commanded. Perhaps all it took was the right approach, and it wreaked devastation in its path. Resolve would crumble ahead of its power and they'd all suffered the effects of it this year.

  Adaeus had to consider if someone was playing a long and involved game with them, one that had them all questioning their commitment to their cause, let alone their lives. It was an effective weapon if he'd ever seen one. If it were true, it was a wily opponent—beyond anything he'd encountered before. Or perhaps it was just bad luck, one that had infected them all in turn. The most insidious side effect though, was that none of them would change what had happened, even if they were just about crushed by it.

  As a tactic, this was something to keep this in mind for the future. Not that he knew exactly what it was that had sparked it, had flipped these encounters into something that burrowed deep and kept burning. Still though, even as he knew he should wish it away, he wouldn't change it, including having to sit across from her for months, even years, watching the dislike in her eyes. His dreams told another path, but that would have to be a life that existed only during his slumbering hours.

  The End

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