To never see my mom again. Never hear her voice calling my name. Or never watch Uncle Andrew under the hood of his old pickup truck, repairing things that continuously broke. Never walking my Daisy around the neighborhood and seeing her beautiful lopsided smile. Or feeling her soft fur under my touch. Never seeing Vicki grow up to be a young lady. Never experiencing love anymore. Only heartbreak and misery. That would be a brutal life to live. I would rather die.
“No, Autumn!” I told myself. “You can’t give up!”
No matter how impossible it may seem, I could get myself out of this. I had to. There is no other choice. I lay on the unforgivable cold floor, huddled around myself, as the moon hovered in the night sky. Meanwhile, ignoring the dozen biters around my fragile, broken body. My ears honed in on the dripping noise coming from the distant corner. The sound echoed off the brick, then my ear drums, making it seem like we were in cave instead of a cellar. I fantasized it was a sweet song lulling me elsewhere to a better place and time.
Now I stood in the apple orchard at the Colonial Inn where I met the man of my dreams. Blue skies stretched above my head and birds whistled their cheerful songs as I passed by their branches. Leland walked beside me, holding my hand, as Daisy ran ahead of us to romp in the fallen leaves of the trees. He beamed at her as she danced around us in excitement. His handsome face gleamed golden brown in the sunlight. The aroma of crisp apples filled my senses as I inhaled deeply. We plucked two from the ripened tree, then walked around the pond and came to rest on the old oak bench where I first set eyes on him. I bit into the sweet juiciness of the fruit and relished in the flavor of it. They tasted as wonderful as they smelled. I wished nothing more than to remain in that orchard with Leland for eternity. It would be like our own personal Garden of Eden. Minus the serpent, of course.
Leland draped his arm around my shoulders as we talked about trying to make a baby and settling down at the Inn. Make it our final home. Mrs. Bea and Henry’s graves were to the left of us between the pond and the orchard about fifty feet from the bench. The fall mums I used to decorate the mounds of dirt they lay beneath were still beautiful rich golden blooms. The pain of losing them remained fresh in my mind. But they would have been pleased to see Leland and I cherish their beautiful home. We would pick up where they left off. It would be big shoes to fill, but I had faith we could do it.
I pondered on how Rita and Wanda were holding up since they left the Inn. They seemed like such kind people. Poor Wanda was terrified while she was there with us. Then to add to the panic, she tripped over Daisy and sprained her ankle. The last thing anyone needs is an injury in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. I prayed they had survived and were safe and sound with their families.
As I pictured my life, happy and secure with my love, I developed a sense of tranquility. My body relaxed, and I stopped shivering. A song came to mind. One my mom sang when I had nightmares as a child. I visualized her fingers running through my long auburn hair as I began humming the tune. Scents of lavender and chamomile flowed all around me. Serenity comforted me like a blanket I could snuggle close to. I whispered the melody until my eyes fluttered closed and replayed the peaceful scenes in my mind. For here and now, this technique would have to suffice in keeping me sane. Considerable time was required to figure out how I would leave this cellar and find my family. With each passing day, I would try hard to outsmart the wicked demon, Alastor, and escape his dungeon of terror.
I rolled over, facing the wall and turning my back to the undead audience, then curled my body up tight. This way he wouldn’t see what I did through the zombie’s eyes. The shackles kept me within a foot radius of moving anywhere. I pulled my hands in to my chest, grasped the bent pin, and twisted. It took everything in me not to scream out in frustration when it didn’t budge the slightest. My fingers didn’t contain enough strength to loosen it further. I would need something sturdier. I ran my hands along the wall and floor in front of me, looking for anything that would help, and keeping my motions to an absolute minimum so they wouldn’t realize what I was doing. Only smooth stone glided under my fingers. An utter disappointment. I grasped the shackle again, wiggling it back and forth on my wrist, hoping my hand would magically shrink and the shackle would slide over it. The metal cuff clanked against the chain and I froze, waiting for those rotting hands to manhandle me again, but nothing happened. I risked a glance back, and discovered they all remained in their positions. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned my head back around and resumed my efforts at budging the restraints so I could slip my hand through and escape this wretched place. It was useless though, they weren’t giving in.
I broke out in a sweat from the exertions of freeing myself. The wintry air licked at my moistened skin and goosebumps prickled causing a shiver to ripple along my body. I yearned for clothing, a blanket and a fire to warm my frozen flesh. The temperature continued dropping a notch or two every hour. By my calculations, it was perhaps fifty degrees in here. By morning, I would be nothing but an icicle. How could he leave me here to freeze to death? Even though I was reluctant to draw his attentions, I understood he was my single hope for surviving the cold night. So I rolled back over, sat up, and faced his undead soldiers with a new determination.
“I know you can see me, Alastor. If you expect to keep me alive long enough to sleep with or make me your queen, you have to keep me warm. Bring me some clothes or a blanket!” I shouted at them, hoping he heard me. I waited for what seemed like an hour, with no response. “Damn you, Alastor! You can’t just leave me here to freeze to death!”
A metallic screech filled the room as the lock pulled and the door swung open. I couldn’t see it but I had attuned my ears to every noise when the fire died and the room plunged into sheer darkness. His boots slapped the floor as he sauntered toward me. It shocked me how massive he really was, no matter how many times I looked at him. He was sculpted for hard-labor or some other strength inducing work. The muscles in his body rippled as he moved in the moonlight, like they possessed a life of their own. He proceeded to stand over me and finally spoke.
“I have gathered you some blankets and clothing. I apologize for leaving you with no warmth. We have started off on the wrong foot, my sweet. Please forgive me,” he pleaded as he lay the stack of garments in my lap and turned to the fireplace. I ignored his babbling and gratefully pulled the clothes on and swaddled myself in the blanket.
Alastor revived the last few coals by adding more wood and prodding it until flames ignited. The kindling crackled as the fire embraced it again. Little by little, the light grew until I saw the farthest reaches of the chamber again. The heat radiating from it thawed my chilled bones, and the feeling crept back into my frozen fingers. The greatest sensation on earth in that moment. I would never take for granted the benefit of heat to warm my body. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I bundled myself up tight in the scratchy wool blanket. The garments he brought me weren’t mine, which puzzled me, but I was content to cover up. They fit three sizes too big and looked like a peasant man’s clothing from another era. Brown cotton trousers and an antique white tunic, with stains of aging around the seams, would not be winning any fashion shows. But at least my body wasn’t bare to the elements anymore.
“Thank you,” I told him, with as much appreciation as I could gather. It was more than difficult to show gratitude towards someone that kidnapped, shackled and manhandled you, but I gave it my best.
“You are welcome,” he replied. “If we are to unite as one, I must take better care of you. You will have to excuse me and my manners. I have never come into such close contact with a human being before, apart from this remarkable body I now possess. But I must learn to control my temper and be patient with you. It will take some time, but I believe we can come to an agreement.”
I bit my tongue. Everything I wanted to say in response to that would have gotten me in deeper trouble. My body wouldn’t take further abuse so I decided silence was my best bet. He took that as encouragement and a
cceptance from me because he abandoned the fireplace and returned to my side of the room. He crouched down on the balls of his feet as his hand grazed my cheek then turned my face to meet his own. A fierce need filled his golden eyes. I had seen that look before. But he was not someone I wished to see it come from. Oh no. It indicated he was considering doing things that only the man I love should do. Lust and desire oozed from his pores. The energy in the room became intense and pressed against my skin. Alastor licked his full lips and broke the silence.
“You will see my devotion, soon enough. The single reason I have not killed you and fed you to my army is because I love you, Autumn,” he breathed. “You will grow to love me, as well. I am going to make certain of that.”
My heart thundered in my chest. Blood rushed to my head and my ears turned red hot. The sensation made me nauseous, and I figured my stomach would betray me once again. His hand was like a blazing iron against my skin. Any minute it would sear through to the bone. The idea of falling in love with something so malicious triggered panic inside. I could never let that happen, even if we were the last two people on this planet.
He advanced closer, his face inches from mine, and lay the barest of kisses on my trembling lips. Time froze as his mouth lingered against mine. My muscles twitched with the need to escape his touch and run as fast as my feet could take me. I felt nothing but contempt for this man as he remained pressed to my lips. Then he growled like a man struck with an uncontrollable hunger. He seized my arms and pushed me to the cold floor. I whimpered as my fear notched up another level. He didn’t seem to care. I believe he fed on my fear. It excited him. I shuddered as he pressed himself tight against my body. His lips locked on mine, prying his way into my mouth with tongue and teeth. His scent, a woodsy musk with an undertone of something wild, offended my senses as he covered me with his immense frame. My body remained unrelenting as his massive hand wrapped around my left breast and squeezed with eagerness. He gazed deeply at me with his golden cat eyes. A wicked smile crept across his face. Hot tears erupted from my eyes as he kissed his way across my lips and down my jawline. The excitement of forcing me was evident as his body melded with mine. He pressed his groin against my hip and grinded as his hand moved from my breast to slide under my shirt. He traced the edge of my pants and began plunging his fingers past the barrier of fabric to bare skin below.
I lost my control and fell into a frenzy. My arms shot up to prevent any further contact. I shrieked while struggling to move as far away from him as possible. He would have to beat me until I couldn’t fight him anymore if he wanted sex. I would not give in willingly. The chains rattled as I fought against them to force distance between us. My back struck the brick wall, and I realized I had met my limit. Fresh hot tears spilled from my aching eyes as I curled into a ball again. I prayed he would go away. I squeezed my eyes shut and sobbed until my skin and clothing was saturated from my crying. He placed his hand upon my side and I flinched, yelping like a dog that had been kicked.
“I am unhappy you feel this way toward me, my love. I may have overstepped my boundaries tonight. But you are quite irresistible. I promise you will see greatness in me. You only need time. I will show you,” he sighed, then stood quietly and left me to weep alone in the cold and musty cellar.
Chapter 9
Bright light gleamed across my eyelids and woke me from my miserable, restless night. The terror of Alastor coming back to have his way with me had my brain on high alert. After being kidnapped, stripped down, shackled and almost raped, I cried myself to sleep. Tossing and turning until exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I eventually passed out. Wonderful sunshine cast a brilliant glow through the window beside me. The warmth emanating provided a sense of comfort after feeling the cold settle into my bones during the night. Today was a new day. Maybe I could escape and get back to my family I missed so much. I refused to stay here and let him use me as his sex slave.
The biters waited at their given posts, unmoving like those medieval suit of armors wealthy people placed in their homes for decoration. Except those are interesting and polished while the undead statues I was forced to watch were repulsive and dreadful. My bladder reacted to the sight of them and I needed a restroom sooner rather than later.
“Alastor, I have to use the restroom,” I said, then cleared my throat and spoke louder. “Please.”
I had sat in my urine all night, even slept in it, but that was the limit. Heaven knows he would probably force me to shit on myself and leave me in it if I continued to piss him off. A moment later, I heard the heavy door unbolt, and he meandered in carrying a rusty metal pot, then lay it down in front of me. My eyes rolled from the filthy pot up to meet his gaze.
“Are you kidding me? What am I supposed to do with that?” I questioned.
“You may do as you like with it. But I suggest you use it for your private needs,” he replied, as if making perfect sense.
“I don’t think so. There has to be a bathroom here. Please let me use it. I won’t try anything, I promise,” I told him, willing to beg if I had to. No way would I use a cooking pot to relieve myself, and add to the degradation I felt from being here, chained to a wall like an animal. His face showed that he was mulling the decision over, wondering if it was worth the risk, then nodded his head.
“All right, my sweet. I will take you to the restroom. But if you try anything, I promise you will come to regret it,” he assured me. Before I said anything, he pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and stepped behind me. His hand slid down my arm in a hair-raising caress until he reached the shackles. The lock clicked, and they fell away to clatter on the floor at my feet. I rubbed my aching wrists to ease the pain of being confined for so long.
“Thank you, Alastor,” I whispered. Glancing up at his tall frame, my eyes sat level with his lower chest like a child when making eye contact. I was grateful to be freed from the chains, but when I saw his expression, I knew he felt superior and in control. My inner smartass wanted to say something nasty to wipe that smug look off of it, but I needed to survive long enough to escape him. So I decided to play nice.
He seized my upper arm and dragged me like a rag doll toward the door in the corner I never could make out from my position against the wall. We left the cellar into a corridor with dampened cement floors and stone walls. Metal pipes ran the length of them, dripping discolored water at old rusted junctions. Pale light peeked through at high spots in the walls. The stone had cracked with age over the years and allowed for some outside daylight to penetrate. It projected an ethereal radiance along the corridor. The space seemed tight, especially watching the way Alastor squeezed through with both arms scraping each side. He’s a big man, but this walkway was narrow, like it was built many years ago when the average person was much smaller than today’s people. We continued down the hallway until we reached a dead end. A circular room about ten feet wide contained a spiraling staircase rising up through the ceiling. Alastor pushed me ahead of him to start up the steps first, but kept a snug hold on my arm. The climb was awkward in the sharp angles of the stairs with him holding onto me, but we reached a door at the top. I tried the knob and found it locked tight. He leaned around me, slid a skeleton key into the lock, and turned it. The door swung open, and I stepped forward into another hallway. Bright sunlight gleamed through a window in front of us. My eyes squinted as they adjusted from the darkness below.
I instantly froze in my tracks, an audible gasp escaping my lips, when I caught a look of my surroundings. The hallway we now occupied appeared to be identical to the one from my nightmare. The stained wallpaper hung off in ribbons. Old lace curtains adorned the windows. Gas lanterns protruded from the walls. Wooden floors had the same scratch marks running down them. It looked a little different in the daylight, but every distinct aspect remained. When I peered toward the end of the hallway, the same daunting door existed there like an angry shadow waiting to swallow me whole. The vision of my family trapped behind it was still fresh in my memory. My pulse lea
ped when I felt Alastor’s hand brush my back and snap me out of my recollection.
“Is something the matter, my love?” he asked in a concerned tone. How did he bring me to this place? Of all the houses in the world, what are the chances of ending up some place you dreamed about? One in a million? I didn’t prefer to ask questions though, afraid of what his answer may be. I glanced back at the door, gauging the possibility of my family waiting for me in there, but only silence filled the space. If they were in there, enduring the severe torture I had nightmares of, I would certainly hear screams or detect the smoke from the fire. The single sound my ears received was the beating of my rampant heart.
So I shook my head and allowed Alastor to lead me in the opposite direction of the ominous door. We rounded a corner and climbed up another flight of stairs until we reached another door on our right. He opened it and revealed a bathroom the size of a small apartment. Not what I expected but definitely a pleasant surprise. As I started forward to cross the threshold, Alastor grabbed my wrist.
“Remember what I said. Do not try anything foolish. I do not wish to punish you, my queen.”
I swallowed past the knot in my throat. The expression in his eyes convinced me he meant business and held a promise of pain if I disobeyed his orders. I didn’t want to find out what his idea of punishment is after last night’s episode. My broken body couldn’t handle much more. I agreed and pulled from his grasp as his hand dropped away reluctantly. I continued forward into the impressive bathroom and noticed the door click behind me. Risking a glance behind, I was shocked to see he gave me some privacy. But I was certain he would wait on the other side, pressed against the door to listen for my possible attempts at escaping.
The entranceway turned out to be a powder room with large oval mirrors hanging above marble vanities with small cushioned stools on each side. Black and white square tiles covered the floor, resembling a checkerboard. An antique hairbrush, that I was convinced could be genuine silver, rested atop one vanity caked in a thick layer of dust. Beside it sat a glass perfume bottle still half full of golden liquid. The spray nozzle was a black rubber hose connected to an oval hand pump that ladies used long ago. Without thinking twice, I reached over, squeezing the oval shaped bubble with tassels and released a dusty squirt of fragrance into the stale room. Regret was my initial reaction as the strong perfume offended my sense of smell. I coughed and sneezed as it dispersed and thankfully faded after a moment of sheer torture.
Autumn's Calling (Book 2): The Battle Page 8
