And as I flew, I relived the events of 1817. The events that had always ensured there could never be a future for Rowan and me. I had known. I had known from day one of encountering Rowan Locke, there could never be a future. That once she knew …
But for a little while. A little time, I had ‘lived’ again. Lived in a way I had never before lived. But at what price to Rowan?
‘Elizabeth? Elizabeth? Wake up – they are gone. You can wake up now, sweetheart.’
The human terror and the pain …
‘Nathaniel – is that you? Does she live?’
If only we had rested for the night at an inn … What had happened … What was now before me … Dear God!
‘We need to get back to Ridings now, James. She lives … but … barely.’ I could not let my anguish take hold. ‘Where are you?’ I called, gently laying Elizabeth upon the seat and clambering out of the carriage that now rested only half upon the road. I unhooked one of the still-burning carriage lanterns from its precarious perch.
Even with the extra light, I tripped over a body in my haste to find James …
Garrick, my coachman.
Keep it together. Keep it together.
He had started working in the stables at the age of eleven … We had played together before my father had ended such frivolity.
His throat was ripped out and he wore the same horrific, open-eyed death mask that Anne, Elizabeth’s maid, now wore.
A twelve-year old could not possibly think they slept.
I emptied my stomach. I thought I had already done so. Finally wiping the vomit from the sides of my mouth with the sleeve of my long overcoat, I forced my leaden feet forward.
‘James?’ There was no disguising the near hysterical edge to my voice.
‘Here.’ He sounded weak, groggy … pained.
I moved towards his voice, into the copse edging the road. And there he was. He sat with his back against a tree trunk, his face deathly white and scattered with cuts and grazes.
‘Everyone else?’ he murmured.
I shook my head before crouching down beside him, raising the lantern to see him more fully. His overcoat was shredded and I could make out dark stains over much of his now barely clad torso.
‘James?’ I urged quietly, not liking at all the look of those stains or the pain so evident in his eyes.
‘I think it best you leave me.’
Not a chance.
Feebly, he indicated his body and then held out his shaking right arm. Turning his wrist, he revealed the underside: ragged torn flesh and still bleeding.
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a slow, calming breath. Elizabeth had similar wounds – one to her neck and another to a wrist – but less … violent. And hers no longer bled.
‘You saw them?’
I gave a curt nod. The flash of white … teeth piercing the black night. The sounds of their inhuman shrieks …
I had been riding alongside the carriage, as had James. Bess, my horse had reared … and then nothing until I had recovered consciousness in the ditch to find …
‘Then you know what they were!’ He coughed at the effort of his assertive, urgent words. ‘They did this with their teeth – their fangs, Nate … before turning on themselves.’
Enough tales had been seeping into the country from Eastern Europe, but up to this encounter …? Up to this encounter I had no reason to believe in vampires, no matter Continental hysteria. I didn’t know for sure what we might be facing. But did know: I wasn’t abandoning my sister and James.
Dismissing his weakening pleas to leave him, I quickly and tightly bound his wrist with a makeshift bandage torn from the hem of my shirt. ‘I am getting the damned coach back on the road. We will be at Ridings by daylight.’
Somehow I managed to calm the carriage horses – the terror in the whites of their eyes said it all – and found both the strength of body and will to return us to Ridings. Fears that Elizabeth and James could become crazed, blood-thirsty savages plagued me. But I could not – would not – let it happen.
If I thought that night was hell …
They were unconscious for more than a week. James was feverish and seemed to experience nightmares. Norton, our trusted family doctor’s diagnosis was torn between blood poisoning and rabies – due to my tale of us being set upon by wild dogs. Nobody could ever know what had befallen us.
Canine rabies was rife across England and people were discouraged from keeping dogs. And the more I read on the subject, the more I realised the merits of such a diagnosis – should there be complications. Symptoms included wanting to bite others, night-time insomnia, vomiting of blood and an aversion to light.
Unlike with James, Norton considered Elizabeth to have some wasting disease, unrelated to the attack. He expressed doubts she would recover. Knowing what I did, I refused to let him purge her. Instead, on reading of pioneering research into transfusions of blood, I sent a rider to London with an urgent request for assistance from the researcher in question. The fee offered made refusal impossible.
In the event he transfused some of my blood into Elizabeth. Colour returned to her cheeks almost immediately and her breathing gained in strength. Each successive transfusion saw improvements.
Not once was I asked how her body had become so wasted of blood; he had a guinea pig – and I would be forever indebted to him. Indeed, I chose to fund his ongoing research.
When Elizabeth woke up, no words could hope to describe my euphoria and relief. It was a rare display of emotion that I now felt all over again. Yet then … I could cry.
But why had I not been more vigilant? More prepared. It was all my fault!
She went through a series of convulsions. In a matter of minutes her skin became paler, cooler to the touch. She looked wildly around her with glazed eyes, fearfully focusing on me at her bedside attempting to soothe, and then, less fearfully, at Norton.
From one to the other, one to the other, in rapid, sharp movements.
In the event, it was quick. She sprung from the bed with an inhuman snarl and clamped her mouth to the neck of Norton. He tried to stop her – I tried to stop her. But her arms wrapped around him like a straitjacket.
When Elizabeth released him, his eyes were wide open, his face a—
No twelve-year old could think that he slept.
It was the strange sounds escaping Elizabeth that snapped me from my horrified stupor. She now sat in the farthest corner of the room, knees hugged to her chest, rocking herself back and forth … back and forth. As she wiped her eyes, I shared her horror: she was crying tears of blood.
‘I am sorry. I am sorry,’ she sobbed repeatedly.
I desperately grabbed hold of the ray of hope that I glimpsed. For she still had a conscience – she was still my Elizabeth. There was hope.
After disposing of Norton and providing suitable alibis, it was that hope that I grasped. I had survived the attack for a reason. I had to be able to do something to prevent my beloved sister from becoming a monster that fed on humans. It would destroy her – and most likely me.
When James awoke two days later, I was ready. Despite his confusion, he took the news he would likely become a bloodsucking monster remarkably well. He was, completely, James.
‘So, Nathaniel – you are obviously the main course. Are there appetisers?’
‘Black pudding?’ I tentatively suggested.
Yet despite my black pudding solution, Elizabeth remained terrified of what she had and could become. She had killed and was convinced she would kill again. She imagined herself becoming one of the savages that had attacked her. She imagined herself killing me.
As did I.
So I, through my own history, knew full well the fear a human could experience in the presence of vampires.
But how could I let Elizabeth struggle alone? I, who had been her protector since she was a babe in arms. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for Elizabeth.
So I chose to become a vampire.
I
chose this course. I chose to become that monster that gave Rowan nightmares, long before she ever met me; that when we did meet – nearly sucked her dry of blood. No matter my efforts, my intentions, my love for her – I was that monster. And her terror of me was inevitable. It was … sensible.
Until I encountered Rowan Locke, desperate vulnerability and emotional pain were no more. Not that I had ever before experienced the sheer agonising depths of what I now felt.
It had all been consigned to history.
As had regrets …
Elizabeth stopped talking and blocked her thoughts as I entered the garden room, twenty-four hours later. She had been deep in conversation with the others, and all had raised their guards.
I spoke only to announce the arrangements I had now made. ‘Rowan will fly back to London first thing tomorrow morning on the jet. Morley is arranging a human nurse to accompany her, and she is to be met at the airport by Heather. Our flight is booked, too. We will be back at Ridings noon tomorrow.’
The only response I received was from James, who inclined his head to acknowledge the plans. At least that was something.
Elizabeth had given up on convincing me of my need to speak to Rowan. The more she had tried, the more I had dug in my heels and insisted she, too, keep away.
I had watched Rowan sleep last night. But that hadn’t gone to plan. She had woken with a start, somehow sensing my presence – despite the distance I had placed between us. ‘Nate?’ she had called out wildly, staring disconcertingly through the window to where I stood within the gardens. I had felt both her pain … and fear.
I had silently left before I could do any more damage.
Heather had finally given up on her attempts at persuasion, too. Indeed, I was refusing to take any more of her calls after her last threat to ‘make me see sense!’ A threat like that from Heather could not be taken lightly. I seemed to be the only one with Rowan’s best interests at heart. I could feel her fear, her heartbreak, her turmoil – all of which I was the cause of. And with me out of the picture, she had a chance to rebuild a safe and happy life.
As for me? I was going to ensure Simeon Frey was out of the picture permanently. Rowan’s wellbeing was my immediate priority. But then …
He should be forever in hell. And when I joined him there, I would destroy him all over again.
Chapter Nineteen
The Return
We arrived at Ridings silently. Nobody had spoken to me throughout our journey home and they were all shielding their thoughts. I lacked the patience for it. I knew they would miss the Rowan factor; they had had their fun out of it. But it was high time our existences returned to normal, as much as was possible for a group of vampires, with one heartbroken and on the verge of God knows what.
The sun was shining, the sky was cloudless; it wasn’t your usual English summer day. Being back at Ridings should have comforted me, but I felt empty. I still had Rowan’s feelings to keep me company, but they were appallingly sad, and all because of me. But they were better than nothing. I was on a mission to see those emotions change, as the impact of my presence in her life was … obliterated.
When the others started speaking to me again, they would no doubt insist that the charm be used on Rowan. And … I was going to let them. Because I would do anything to stop her hurting and see her happy. My obliteration would stop the hurt. I would give thought and work as to what might make her happy.
I approached my bedroom suite at near human-speed, just taking the stairs three at a time. I was completely mended now. There were no physical scars left from recent events. I was going to go riding. I had missed Bess. As I turned at the top of the landing, I painfully reflected how Rowan was so imprinted on my senses. I could almost smell her scent and hear her heartbeat. I resisted the urge to breathe in deeply and allow myself to relish in the sensation. To imagine she was here with me.
Rowan was nervous about something, I could feel it. I wondered what she was doing to make her feel that way. I was concerned. Actually, I was very concerned. I checked my watch. She would be with Heather. I would have to phone just to make sure all was well. The phone was to my ear as I walked into my bedroom, but then it wasn’t: it was out of my hand and on the plush-carpeted floor.
I stood motionless, frozen to the spot.
‘Hello, Nate,’ she said awkwardly, nervously, breathlessly. Her heart was beating frantically, the pulse on her neck mirroring its erratic pace. She was pale, and bruised and fragile … but still so beautiful. She bit her lip in that way of hers.
She was standing at one of the large sash windows in my bedroom. Her hand was clutching one of the heavy floor-length ivory drapes. She looked as if she shouldn’t be standing, as if her hand on the curtain was holding her up. The sun seeping through the window had turned her hair the colour of copper. Her eyes were the most verdant I had ever seen them. But there was fear there; I could see it and feel it. They were behind this. Was this their attempt at removing the issue, of removing the human that knew of our existence? Did they want me to literally scare her to death, to put that problem to bed once and for all?
I was livid, furious. I inhaled. Yes, she really was there. This wasn’t one of so many daydreams I had had in which I pictured Rowan at Ridings. No, this was a nightmare. I couldn’t deal with this. I turned. I had to leave. I had to leave now. I just needed to get the message to my legs which seemed to be rooted to the spot.
‘Nate … don’t leave me. Please!’ Her soft melodic voice sounded haunted. She was begging me.
Christ Almighty, what had they done? How had they got her here? Had they charmed her?
I hesitated and turned to look into her eyes. I would be able to tell if they had used that spell on her; a vampire can always tell the eyes of a charmed human. To our eyes, they appear ever so slightly glazed and, if I was the subject of the charm, then she would be looking at me unblinking.
They blinked right back at me and the only glaze they had was that of a soft sheen of tears.
She had started to walk towards me, tentatively, shakily. She was holding my confused gaze. I stumbled backwards. Her fear increased again and her heart pounded in my head. Any moment it could utter its last beat.
I looked frantically at her face. There were tears rolling down her cheeks. This wasn’t right. Why had they done this to her? I resisted the urge to rush to her side and wipe her tears away, soothe her, hold her, cherish her; love her and make all her pain evaporate. But whilst I was the cause of her pain and fear, that plan was pretty much as bad as they got.
I managed to move my leaden legs and turned away. How could my heart break any more?
I was at the top of the stairs when I heard her broken sobs and the whispered words, uttered only to herself, ‘Don’t leave me, Nate. I’m so sorry. Don’t hate me. Please forgive me. I love you!’
I froze mid-stride. NO. NO. NO. She hadn’t just said that. She could not have. She was terrified of me. I could feel her fear, for Christ’s sake. She couldn’t be saying this, I horrified her – I could feel it!
Just as I had once felt that terror and horror and fear for myself.
She was sobbing uncontrollably now, ‘I love you … I love you. Forgive me. I know you aren’t a monster, I know it. I could make you love me again, I could!’
I was now standing in the doorway, holding the frame for support. ‘Rowan?’ My voice was choked and my confusion undisguised. As was my anguish on taking in her form. She was on the floor. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest in a desperate attempt to comfort and the tears flowed uncontrollably down her face; her body was racked by the most painful of sobs.
‘Rowan?’ I asked again, in turmoil.
She wouldn’t look at me. She was shaking her head. She struggled to get her words out through her wretched tears, ‘No … I don’t want you to see me like this … Just go! It’s all my fault. I’m sorry. I should have known … I wrecked it all … It’s just Elizabeth …’
‘Rowan?’ What was
she saying? None of this made any sense.
‘Please, Nate. I’ll get over it. Just go. I’ll be gone in a few moments. I just need to find my bag … and a tissue … and … I’m so sorry!’ The sobs got louder.
I tightened my hold on the door frame to prevent my moving to her side.
‘Rowan – I am not coming in there, so do not be scared. But I am confused; I am so confused. Can you try and say something that makes some sense to me? Please? Because I am currently fighting the biggest urge to take you into my arms and never let you go. And I cannot do that. I know how much I terrify you. I will not do that to you.’
‘I LOVE YOU!’ she screamed at me through her sobs. ‘Yes, I’m terrified – but not of you – never again of you! I’m terrified of a life without you! Because I ruined everything and you can’t forgive me for what I said, how I reacted … And you keep leaving me … keep turning your back on me … Every time I see you, you turn and walk away … it hurts – and I’m scared of hurting and of living without you …’
Oh, dear God! Those were the feelings I had felt, but the thoughts behind them were so very different to my interpretation of them.
‘You are not terrified of me?’ I choked out.
‘No, Nate – no!’
It was my actions, my avoidance and staying away that had scared her – not me? She wasn’t scared of me? She thought I didn’t want to be with her? How could she ever think that? How could she not know that without her, there was no point to my existence?
I was at her side in a blink and had her wrapped in my arms.
‘Forgive me, Nate. Oh, God, please forgive me!’ And then she let it all go and she was limp in my arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
I was sat on the floor, gently cradling her, rocking her backwards and forwards, holding her head to my chest, stroking her hair.
‘Shhhush, my love. Shussh. I am an idiot, a complete idiot! I thought I terrified you, that you hated me. I never wanted you to fear again. That is why I stayed away. Why I avoided you – not because I wanted to. But look what I have done to you! I am so sorry, my love, so very, very sorry. What am I going to do with you? What am I going to do with me? Oh, God, Rowan! Dear God! I thought I had lost you. Please. Shhhhh.’
No Such Thing As Immortality Page 29
