The Night Within Us: Dark Vampire Romance

by Sylvie Grohne

  I stand still and look at him. There it is again. The phenomenon I've experienced twice already in the past 24 hours. I can see his wings. They're beautiful and unscathed. Nothing hints at the fact they were in flames not too long ago and badly damaged. Since Noah is still sitting on the bed, they almost reach the ceiling. Now I hear the quiet rustling too. How long will it last this time, before they just as suddenly become invisible once more?

  “You can see them again?”

  I nod. Noah gets up from the bed and the tips of his wings bend slightly, restricted by the ceiling. He comes over to me and stops about a foot away.

  “It must be because you still have my blood in you.” For a moment, he looks thoughtfully off into space, then fixes me with his crystal clear eyes.

  Like a fan, he spreads his wings slowly out before me to their full glory. As if he wants to show me all of him, naked so to speak, in a way that no other woman has probably ever seen him. I can feel what an intimate and meaningful moment this is.

  “They're incredibly beautiful,” I say softly and I'm almost inclined to reach my hand out and touch them, but now too something holds me back.

  “Do you remember how you touched them that morning?”

  How could I forget? Feeling the soft feathers between my fingers, letting them glide through them gently – it was a very special experience. Almost magical, if the circumstances hadn't been so awful. I nod and avoid his gaze because it, too, is too close for comfort and because I'm ashamed of my irritable behavior. He doesn't deserve to go from one chilly environment to another. Why on earth am I doing this to him?

  “No-one has ever touched them before.”

  The sound of his voice alone reveals how important this experience must have been for him too.

  I can't leave him standing there like that. I simply can't. I tentatively reach my hand out and touch his right wing. Noah closes his eyes. I gently stroke the silky feathers and once more feel them beginning to tremble slightly beneath my touch. Delicate vibrations which seem to pass through his wings like a blissful quiver. Even the rustling sounds different now, suddenly much softer. I'm listening to this new melody almost absently, when suddenly his arms wrap around me.

  “Amy. . .” he whispers my name in my ear and my body stiffens defensively. He pulls me around and kisses me. The aversion in me grows into disgust. I'm nauseous and I feel like I need to throw up.

  “Please let me go. . . I'm so sorry. . . but please let me go.” I free myself from his embrace and dash into the bathroom. Breathing heavily, I lean over the hand basin and notice I feel much better when I'm not near him. Can fear really provoke such a violent reaction? It doesn't even feel like fear, rather just a strong aversion. Shoulders hanging, I return to the bedroom and see him sitting on the bed, his shoulders hunched too. His wings are gone. I can't see them anymore.

  “You have to tell me what's wrong. I don't understand.” His expression is dark and questioning.

  From the other wing of the house comes piano music. I only consciously notice it now, even though it has been playing faintly somewhere in the back of my mind for a while. Clear rhythms and gentle harmonies, which don't suit my current emotional state. Not at all. Airas seems to be doing fabulously since his return from San Diego. It must be thanks to the new acquaintance he made there, whom he is constantly talking about since his return. Apparently this time it's a woman he's taken with.

  Noah's eyes still pierce me probingly. I clear my throat nervously before I answer, because I'm not sure whether my voice will obey me. “I don't understand it myself.”

  “Do you want me to go?” The question gives me such a surprise that I start slightly. What on earth should I say? I can't answer 'yes' or 'no', although I feel both of them, even 'yes'.

  “I don't know. . . I. . . maybe we're not good for each other,” I murmur quietly and can't look him in the eye. “I don't think I'm good for you.”

  “What are you talking about, Amy? You, not good for me? What on earth makes you think that?”

  “I'm always putting you in danger. Twice already you've been hurt because of me. I'm one more reason for the watchers to hunt you.”

  I can't bring myself to tell him I suddenly can't stand to be near him and it makes me nauseous. Still, what I did say is equally true, even if it's not the whole truth.

  He stands up vigorously and is with me in three steps. His hands grab me determinedly by the upper arms, as if he wants to shake me, but he only looks me steadily in the eye.

  “They're after me anyway. I'm damned to pay for my grandfather's sins. His blood flows in my veins. That's reason enough for them.”

  I try to extract myself from his grip, but he won't let go.

  “Don't act as if I haven't changed anything,” I yell at him irritably. “You know for a fact the watchers are a much greater threat to you now. Even just because you're sharing a bed with me and the curse isn't taking. You're making fools of them. You heard what Blake said in the bar. You're top on their list as it is. Maybe they're already on your tail now thanks to me. I lit the flare. So don't act as if I haven't changed anything.”

  For a moment he looks at me in surprise. “You're right.”

  His unexpected agreement takes the wind out of my sails and leaves me silent. I look at him in astonishment. He lets go of my shoulder, turns and takes a few steps through the room, only to then turn back to face me.

  “Yes, you have changed something. You've changed my life in incredible ways. Believe me, I've spent most of the centuries of my life more or less blind and deaf. How could I have eyes for all the beautiful things in life, when I live off seeing them wilt before my eyes every day? How could I still have an ear for the sound of laughter, for the beautiful words someone speaks, when I've so often heard them turn into cries of pain and mourning? Only now, through you, do I see how cold and dull I was inside. Through you, everything has changed. You tore open the windows of my soul and flooded the gray around me with color. I had resigned myself to my fate, come to terms with reality, because I knew nothing else but this lonely life on the run. But nothing could really touch me, reach me, till that day we met.” He pauses and lowers his eyelids a heartbeat before going on. “You alone have made my skin thin as paper. Now I feel such a lot, and so intensely. Feelings I never dreamed of. So yes, you really have changed something, and I'm grateful for it. I wouldn't ever want to do without it, because I love you, Amy!”

  Love? Love. It's the first time Noah has said it to me in so many words, and I hardly dare breathe. We've always packaged our affection in lots of little gestures and gazes, and in Vegas we vowed to love one another eternally, but we've never said these words to each other so directly. Until now. I taste blood and realize that while he was talking I must have been biting my lip till it bled.

  The inner conflict from wanting to embrace him, but not being able to, is driving me to despair. I can feel that I love him. So much that it hurts, and yet there are these contradictory feelings inside me which seem to be just as strong. This is crazy. Totally crazy.

  “Give me some time,” I beg him, almost in a whisper. “I think I just need some time.”

  “Are you sure?” He looks at me doubtfully.

  The sound of my cell phone notifying me of a message makes his ears prick up. Before I can beat him to it, he grabs my phone from the dresser. Without looking at the display, his lips press into a thin line and there is a bitter twist to his mouth.

  I know immediately that it's one of the daily messages Jack has been sending me ever since that morning when he found me beside the bed. Messages which often elicit a smile from me and which at some stage I even began looking forward to, which I almost missed if they arrived late, and which I at some point also started answering. They were little rays of hope in my loneliness. Just a few funny, friendly words being sent back and forth. And yet the supposed innocence of my conduct suddenly crumbles now before my eyes. The weakness I have for Jack made me weak-willed. It was wrong, but I only
realize it now. I simply blocked it out before.

  Noah hands me the phone without a word, and I open the message:

  How are you today? Paris got cold overnight. I could cope with that – if it weren't true that it only has the second most beautiful view.

  Jack

  “Is he the reason?”

  I shake my head and he grabs me by the arm.

  “So you don't feel anything for him? There's nothing going on between you?” His voice is much louder now, and he is clearly struggling to maintain his self-control.

  “Yes, we do have something, but it's different from what you and I have.”

  “Different? And you seriously think that makes me feel better, when you've been pushing me away from you ever since I got back?”

  “I can imagine how this must all look to you, but my feelings for you haven't changed.”

  “Haven't they?” His eyelids twitch.

  “No. . .” Nothing more than a breath passes my lips. I can feel it myself, how paradoxical it must sound alongside the way I'm acting.

  Suddenly he grabs me, one hand firmly embedded in my hair, and kisses me. His lips are purposeful, demanding and I taste his desire to believe me. His other hand grips my waist so tightly it almost hurts. For a moment I feel a warmth flowing down to my groin, which feels like consent, like I'm agreeing to this, but the next minute everything within me fights back against this invasion. I feel sick and a sharp pain shoots through my head. As I push him off me, he tries persistently to keep hold of me.

  “Let me go!” I'm afraid of hurting him, but I want him to stop. Right away. But his hand digs into my hair even tighter now and again he presses his lips hard on mine. Enraged, I free myself from his grip, raise my arm and strike him with an open palm to the face. Hard enough that he stumbles back and almost falls to the ground.

  The bewilderment on his face reflects my own shock. How could it come to this? What have I done? I love you, his words echo in my mind. He says he loves me, and all he gets from me are lame excuses, rejection and a slap in the face. Has my love for him perhaps really died out? Overnight? But then was it really love in the first place? Suddenly, uncertainty sprouts within, clinging to me obstinately. Was it perhaps always nothing more than a sexual attraction between us? What if I was simply his only choice, and he mine? Damn it, I can't understand my contradictory feelings and thoughts. It's as if I've gotten lost inside myself.

  “I'm sorry.” I lower my eyes, because his expression hurts me. Why does it feel like my heart is broken, when it's me who is breaking his heart?

  It's totally crazy, to be so close to him and yet still miss him. To miss what we had, and at the same time wish he would stay away from me. Is this the end for us? Am I just afraid of taking the last step? Of letting go? Of the loneliness which will descend upon me again then?

  “Please, give me. . .” My renewed plea for some time dies on my lips, because when I look up again, Noah is gone.

  35

  Amkaya

  “Don't think I don't know what's wrong with you.” Airas gives me a piercing look from the other end of the dinner table. “The hunger is written all over your face. Just because it's over between you and Noah doesn't mean you can ignore it. I've given Nita the week off. The way you're looking, you'd pounce on her wherever she was in the house.”

  “Now don't exaggerate,” I brush it off and shove another piece of pizza into my mouth, knowing full well it can't still the agonizing hunger I've been feeling for days.

  “Is Wilson still in the hospital?”

  “Yes, and he's no better. I'm seriously getting worried about him. The doctors haven't got a clue why he's so ill. I don't get it either – in all these years he hasn't been sick once.”

  “I'll go visit him tomorrow, see how he's doing.” I make a snap decision, because I'm worried about Wilson too. This week without him we've clearly seen how irreplaceable he really is and what a gem we have in him.

  “You still don't want to talk about what happened between you and Noah?”

  I shake my head. No, I haven't talked about it in the past four weeks, and I don't want to talk about it today either. I don't want to waste any words on how I ruined everything between me and Noah. Nor on how much I miss him and how uncertain I still am about what I would feel if I were with him again. And yet, in spite of these doubts, I still sent him several messages asking him to come back. He neither answered, nor did he return. I didn't get the chance to find out what happened and how I would feel if he were standing before me again. Perhaps I deserve that. Yes, I probably do, and yet I still keep feeling an uncontrollable rage toward him, and curse him for remaining silent.

  Sometimes I think I can smell him, but I'm not sure whether he's in the room or his scent is simply still hanging there. Maybe it's just wishful thinking. The same as how I sometimes hear a rustle when I'm half asleep, but when I open my eyes I'm always surrounded by silence.

  “When can I meet your new girlfriend – what was her name again?” I try to distract him.

  “Vivien. She's pretty busy lately I'm afraid, but you'll get to meet her very soon. But don't try to change the subject now please. You're a ticking time bomb. You have to feed, and it has to be tonight.”

  “Mmm, the salad is delicious, don't you think?”

  “Amkaya! Don't be so stubborn. It's unavoidable and you know it. Let's go right after dinner and find you someone, before you lose control.”

  “No, I'll sort it out myself.”

  “Are you sure?” He gives me a skeptical look.

  “Yes. I don't want others taking responsibility for me anymore. It's about time I started taking care of myself.”

  “And when are you thinking of doing it?”

  “I don't know. Maybe tomorrow.”

  Airas shakes his head and stabs his salad peevishly. “If you change your mind, let me know. I'm going out later, but you can get me on my cell phone any time.”

  I nod to appease him, but I'm absolutely convinced I won't do it.

  Two hours later I pace my room restlessly and try to keep myself occupied, but the hunger won't let me go. I need blood. The dark side of me calls for it adamantly. But the thought of going out and killing someone has haunted me for days. It wouldn't be someone who would have died anyway. No, this time it wouldn't be an AD, and that's a crucial difference to me. I want to lash out in desperation. Like a madwoman, I open and close cupboards and drawers, as if I might find something like a solution for my problem there. And then suddenly I'm holding it in my hand. Noah's feather. I still haven't mounted it in my scrapbook. Soft as silk, it lies on my palm and puts a halt to my hyperactivity. “Where are you?” I whisper and close my fingers around the feather. He may sense where I am, but I haven't the faintest idea where he is. Our promise in Vegas seems a farce to me now. The eternity we planned to spend together didn't even last a year. Not even a year! Now I'm alone again. Why on earth do I always lose everything I love?

  “Where are you?” I scream out loud now as I crumple the feather in my hand and bend over in pain. And it's not only the hunger that hurts. Since Noah has been gone, I feel incomplete, almost as if a part of me has been amputated. As bad as the loneliness used to be, now it seems almost unbearable. It's not the same emptiness I've known my whole life either. Since Noah came into my life and disappeared from it again, there's a whole new and much more dreadful type of loneliness.

  You have to come to terms with this, my inner voice insists. You have no other choice. I open my hand again and drop the feather back into the drawer. I close it with a hefty shove, take a few deep breaths and remove the ring Noah gave me from my finger. It's time to let go and look forward. It's time to do the inevitable. I have to stop trying to be something I'm not. I am what I am, and if Noah taught me anything, then it's how to accept my dark side.

  ***

  “Kaya!” As I leave the house, I practically run straight into Jack's arms. Damn it. Since Noah disappeared, I haven't replied to a single one of
his texts. I don't even open them up and read them anymore. And now he's standing before me, and his brown eyes stare at me earnestly.

  “I absolutely have to talk to you.”

  I automatically take a step back, out of fear he might be the next victim of my hunger. “I can't now, Jack. Let's talk tomorrow, ok?”

  “Can't we talk now?” He tries to come closer and I go past him to my car.

  “It's important. We have to talk.” He has followed me and grabs me by the shoulder.

  “Don't touch me!” I hiss irritably and give him a little shove, which makes me drop the black clutch from my hand. Even before I can bend down to get it, he has picked it up and hands it to me.

  “I really can't now,” I add apologetically and quickly get into the car. I feel awful and can't have a conversation right now. The hunger is raging within me and if I don't want Jack to become my meal, then I need to go now. Determined, I start the car and gradually leave him behind in my rear-view mirror.

  Only ten minutes later I park near a new club in the SoMa district. In spite of the fairly cool weather, I take my jacket off while I'm still in the car. Thanks to transparent insets on the back and sides, the black cut-out dress I'm wearing ensures there is plenty to see but at the same time covers enough skin to still look mysterious. Together with the sinful red on my lips, I hope to have a short stay in the club. I don't want to dance, don't want to talk – all I want is to get the inevitable behind me. On the way here I decided to challenge fate in my own way. The first person to buy me a drink will be the one. Maybe it's not an AD then, but in another way I'm still leaving the choice up to fate.

  In the club the music and many smells almost kill me. The loud beat booms in my ears, and the many faces around me blur into the crowd like a kaleidoscope. I push past hot bodies toward the bar. The tempting scent of blood has my saliva running at full speed, and I fight the temptation to bite into the next neck I see.