He released my hand and then gathered me into his arms. The shadows of the trees seemed less eerie as I basked in the strength of his embrace. He leaned over, and I felt the warmth of his breath caress my neck. His lips moved lingeringly over my eyes and then moved on to my waiting lips. His tongue explored the confines of my mouth, and the flame in my loins was ignited once again. Should I be experiencing such desire at this point in my pregnancy? I pondered as we descended slowly to the dew-damp grass.
There, under the light of the moon, on nature’s fresh new green carpet, we made love. Our witnesses were the stars, the moon, and whatever creatures might inhabit the ominous darkness of the night. When the moments climaxed, he wrapped the heavy cape around me, gathered me gently in his arms, and carried me into the house and back up to my room.
“Come, Virginia darling, I will draw you a bath. You must be chilly from the dampness of the night. I dare not take a chance on your becoming ill at this point in the pregnancy,” he articulated as he selected a white negligee and matching robe from my closet. Like an obedient lamb, I followed him out of my room and down the hallway to the bath chamber.
I was shocked—mesmerized by what Count Basarab Musat was doing for me. I was being treated like a queen—his queen. He was playing the part of a lowly servant as he poured the water into the huge tub. He carefully slid my clothing from my body and then gently directed me into the warm, inviting bubbles. I walked up the three steps and then down into the water, all the while with my fingertips resting in the palm of his hand. The water felt so soothing to my tired, aching body. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the edge of the tub.
I was startled by hands suddenly touching my abdomen. The count had joined me. He was caressing his child—our child. I smiled. All my fear of this man evaporated.
We resumed our lovemaking, there in the water. He was gentle. Yet, at the same time, there was a ferocious powerfulness to him, which made every inch of my flesh tingle. And the baby, our baby, moved within me, dancing our dance of love. My entire body trembled with our passion.
Too soon for my liking, the count lifted me up from the foamy waters and laid me gently on an enormous white towel he had laid out. He joined me, wrapping me in its softness and patting the beads of water and soapy bubbles from my skin. He took my hand and drew me to my feet, and then he slipped a silk gown over my head. I felt the richness of the material on my freshly cleaned skin.
Once again, I was elevated into his powerful arms. I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly as he carried me back to my room. Tonight, I did not think of it as a prison. Tonight, we had flown together—I was all his and he was all mine!
We continued to enjoy each other until the sun began to creep through the cracks in the curtain. But that was the last night of passion I was to experience before the birth of our child. It was a night to cherish above all others; it was the first time he had shown me there was a possible human side to him ...
So I thought.
~
My belongings were moved to the room in the tower as the count had promised they would be. I had no idea how Max managed it by himself, but two days after my request, upon finishing the evening meal, I was led to my new quarters. They were not much different from the old ones; there were still bars on the windows.
Life continued. I read. I waited for him to come to me, but he did not. So I read some more. I made notes of all the vicious people I was reading about, trying to profile them so that I might have a better understanding of their way of thinking. I had found a book on profiling in the law section. It was interesting to read about some of the fallacies of profiling that my television generation had been exposed to. Motivations for becoming a serial killer were not always clear, and it could not be assumed that there was just one motive. Once a possible motive had been identified, that did not mean the killer could be identified. The book went on to say that most serial murderers committed their crimes because they wanted to; exceptions to that theory are those who are mentally ill. There was a list of usual motives: anger, monetary gain, power and thrill of the kill, ideology, psychosis, and of course, the sexually-based killings. I made as many notes as I could, writing in shorthand so I would not have to use too much paper. If I ever got out of this place alive, I would have a good familiarity with the courses I might take to get my degree in criminal profiling—that is, if I still wanted to do that. For now, it helped to pass my time—a sinister distraction for me, immersed in a gloomy world!
When I was not doing that, I wrote in my diary. I had to use candlelight in the dusk hours and even in the daytime, now, for very few rays of sunlight managed to enter this room because of the extra-heavy window tapestries. I had been given strict instructions not to open them now, and I dared not disobey; I never knew when someone might walk in. At night, I strolled in the moonlight, around and around the widow’s walk. Max would open the door and then leave me alone, but as soon as I stepped back into my room, he would reappear with the key and re-lock the door.
I had read about widow’s walks in a library book. This was where women would go to watch for their husbands’ returns from the sea. I wondered at the creation of this particular one, since there was no sea in the vicinity. Was it truly a widow’s walk, or was it just where some young bride had made her husband a widower when she jumped to her death? I had fleeting moments when I thought of doing that myself, but then my child would move within me, and I would continue walking. Of course, there was another logical explanation—it was just the fashionable architecture of the time.
Thoughts of screaming out into the empty night, with the hope of being heard, constantly crossed my mind, but I knew from experience that either Max or Teresa was always lurking close by—possibly the count, as well. Besides, if there were even the slightest chance of me being detected, I was sure the count would never have agreed to allow me such a luxury as these nightly strolls!
So I just walked ... paced ... and prayed. No one from my world ever noticed the lonely figure walking on top of the old mansion; if anyone did, they took no notice. Why would they?
And I yearned for him to come to me.
But he never did. I would see him briefly at out meals, but he was aloof, never directing any conversation in my direction. Had I done something to offend him?
Teresa seemed smug.
When I returned to my room, I would cry.
And then, I would damn them both!
Outsiders
Chapter Fifteeen
N ear the beginning of my seventh month of pregnancy, I noticed that Max was unusually stressed. I knew it was too soon for the relatives to be arriving. Teresa had informed me they were not scheduled to arrive until just before the actual birth.
Max was constantly working, cleaning everywhere. The other clue that something might be going on was the tantalizing food aromas filtering up to my room. In all my months of captivity, that quantity of savoury smells had never penetrated my nostrils. This state of anxiety had been going on for an entire week, but every time I asked Max if he was all right, he would brush me off with a nervous wave of his gnarled old hand.
Saturday morning arrived. Would this end the confusion I was feeling and the tension Max was displaying? The usual light knock sounded on my door, and Max entered with my breakfast tray. I had thought he was nervous during the past week, but this morning he was jittery than ever!
“Your drink, Miss Virginia.” Max handed me the mug. Even though it tasted okay, I longed for a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and juice. No breakfast like that had been served to me since the end of my first trimester.
I studied Max closely as he moved nervously around the room, straightening the covers on my bed and picking up stray items of clothing. He went to the windows and did something that had he had never done before. I was used to the curtains being drawn back at night, but Max took a roll of tape and secured them in place all around, so absolutely nothing could penetrate through—neithe
r sunlight nor moonlight.
Perplexed at this unfamiliar action, and upset with the loss of what little sunlight the cracks at the sides of the curtains had allowed through to my room, I blurted out, “What are you doing, Max? Why are you sealing the curtains so tightly? You know how much I enjoy those few rays of sunshine throughout the day! Even though it is not much, they are something for me to hang on to. So why, Max, why?” I was extremely upset, so much so that tears welled up in my eyes.
Max looked rattled by my reaction. “I am sorry, Miss Virginia. I do know how much you enjoy that bit of sun and being able to open the curtain at night, but I assure you, it is only a temporary situation. The curtains are to remain sealed until after tomorrow. The count has left very strict orders.”
“But why, Max?” I pleaded for an answer.
As though Max had not heard me, he continued with his own line of thought. “You, Miss Virginia, will be dining in your room tonight.” Max turned to leave. “I will return later with your lunch.”
I ran to the door and blocked his exit. “Why, Max? Just tell me why! I won’t allow you to leave this room until I am given an explanation. There has been too much going on here all week, too many nervous twitches, too many secret looks between you and Teresa. I want to know what is going on!” My voice rose in anger, and I stamped my foot.
Max scrutinized me closely. I could tell from the look on his face that he was shocked at my outburst. I had become a relatively passive hostage, once I had realized there was little chance of escape, and when I was enjoying the count’s company in the evenings. Max’s seemed nervous. After a lengthy hesitation, he answered me.
“The master is entertaining tonight,” he stated blandly. Max was trying to be nonchalant about the fact that the count was entertaining—something I had not noticed him doing since I had been in the house. “Therefore, because of the circumstances surrounding your stay here, you are to be kept locked in your room for the duration of our guests’ visit. You are not to try anything foolish that would bring attention to your presence. You are not to knock on the door, scream, cry for help, or look out the windows.
“Any attempt at disclosure will only cause considerable humiliation for you, and your attempt to escape will be futile. The count has ordered your seclusion. His wishes, as you know by now, are always obeyed.” Max finished his deliberation with a knowing look. Or was that a warning glance he threw my way?
I dared to pose another question. “Who is the count entertaining, Max?
“These guests are not his friends, Miss Virginia. Tonight is strictly a business meeting of sorts; however, some of the guests may be spending the night. They have travelled from north of Toronto and will most likely not leave until tomorrow afternoon. The dinner party will go on until quite a late—or should I say early?—hour. No matter. It all depends on who you are as to whether the hour is late or early, doesn’t it, Miss Virginia?” Max grinned at me as he drove his point home.
I wondered what kind of business the count was involved in. In spite of all the conversations we’d had, he had ever actually informed me how he maintained his household. And I had been so enthralled with the subjects we were discussing that I had not thought to question how the luxurious trappings I was surrounded by had been obtained. I had not thought to question where the food for my meals came from or how it was brought into the house. The biggest mystery of all was where the blood came from that Teresa and the count drank every evening at the supper table. I had not dared to ask about that! But I also wondered how many doctors would scratch their heads in speculation every time they noticed that the blood bank was not as full as it was supposed to be and how many people were affected by that loss—if that is where the blood was coming from!
What did all this really mean, then? Once again I wondered if I were in some kind of dream world. Did this house and the creatures within it truly exist, or were they only figments of my imagination? Were the stories the count had told me about individuals he knew just that—stories from his overactive imagination, stories told just to pass away some idle time? Somehow, I doubted that—the people he had mentioned and whom we had discussed were in the history books—they were real. And then there was the child within me—I felt him kick, catapulting me back to the reality of my present situation.
Max put his hands on my shoulders and gently moved me away from the door. I allowed myself to be shifted. “You will have your little bit of sunshine back tomorrow, Miss Virginia. In the meantime, please remember what I have said, and all will go well for you.” With that final warning, Max left. I heard the door lock click. Once again, I was alone in my prison.
~
I began pacing. Pacing had become a form of exercise for my body as well as a release for my tensions. What kind of business was the count involved in? Who were these people who were arriving tonight? Were they like him? If not, would they be safe here during the night hours under the same roof with a—with him? Oh, God! What if they were humans and the count tried to ... I had no desire to entertain that thought any further. I still wondered at my own fortune of having been spared such a fatal moment. I grew tired of my restless thoughts and lay down on my bed, praying that sleep would ease my pain.
And I dreamed. I dreamed of escape. I dreamed the guests came. I dreamed that they demanded the count release me. They were such kind people, all of them. They crowded around me and assured me of their protection. They came closer and closer. They wrapped their arms around me. Their faces pushed ever nearer to mine.
Suddenly, the loving expressions turned into looks of jeering contempt. I became frightened. I tried to run, but they laughed and held me fast in place. My legs were flailing aimlessly in thin air as I attempted to distance myself from the faces. They taunted. They pulled at my swollen body from every direction, each trying to grab a piece of me. The laughter increased, hideous and grotesque. Their mouths opened wide; they hovered even closer to my trembling body, and then, there they were—the fangs! I screamed, and screamed, and screamed!
“Miss Virginia! Wake up, Miss Virginia!” Max was shaking my shoulder vigorously, trying to arouse me.
I opened my eyes and stared at him, terrified of what I might see. My body was soaked with perspiration. Max gathered me into his arms the way my father had done when I was a child having a nightmare. He cooed softly in my ear. I did not understand why he was doing this for me, but it did bring a sort of serene comfort to my troubled mind. I allowed my tears to flow freely. It had been a dream—at least this time. Thank God!
“Come, Miss Virginia, I shall pour you a bath. You look as though you have just been in quite a battle. You can eat your lunch after freshening up.”
I nodded and followed Max to the bathing room. I felt that this was one night I would not be seeking deliverance from this place. The dream had wiped freedom’s lure from my mind!
~
As evening approached, I watched intently through my covered window for a sign of car lights. Why I bothered, I cannot explain. My dream still terrorized my conscious mind, and I was not willing to jeopardize my life with any unknown entities. Besides, Max had made it perfectly clear that there would be nothing but humiliation in store for me if I were to attempt anything. Of course, that humiliation probably meant that I would be made to look like a fool. Probably it would be pointed out to the guests that I was just a silly and distraught pregnant female. Maybe the count would say I was a widowed sister who had temporarily lost all sense of reality as a result of losing her husband while in such a delicate condition!
But still I vacillated; there was another emotion gnawing at me. A tiny voice kept trying to tell me that this just might be my opportunity to free myself from this house and all those in it. I tried desperately to silence that voice, but it continued to wrench at my mind, launching visions of freedom into my tormented thoughts.
I began to reason that if there were a way—any way at all—it would be in the early morning light, when Teresa and the count had lost their imp
osing powers. It would require little effort to overcome Max, if I could catch him off-guard, and if the guests were cooperative, or even still awake at that hour, it was possible that they might assist me. However, I reasoned that my best chance to escape would be when everyone was sleeping.
Thus the matter was settled, in my subconscious. I would rest now, wake early, and then prepare. It might be my last chance, my final opportunity to save my child from the destiny that awaited it. And, of course, to save myself from whatever fate awaited me, because I still had no idea what the count had planned for me once the child was born.
My door opened slowly, and Teresa entered with my evening meal and drink. She looked stunning! She wore a gown of crimson-red silk, adorned with shimmering red sequins from the neckline to just above the knees. From there, the material, like wild waves on a rugged shoreline, swirled freely to the ankles, where it touched upon her dainty red silk shoes. The gown clung to her perfect body like a silken glove. It was such a change from her usual black attire!
Her cheeks harmonized with the red material, reflecting a lustrous hue on the otherwise pale skin. Teresa’s lips appeared smooth and moist, resembling the colour of freshly drawn blood. Her luminous raven hair tumbled, with stunning contrast, over the rich, red material of the gown. What a shame such beauty was wasted on the horrifying creature I indisputably knew her to be!
Teresa set my tray down on the table beside my bed, walked over to the windows, and checked the curtains to ensure they were securely in place. She also checked the lock on the door that led to the roof. “There will be no walking this evening,” she informed. “I understand Max has given you a brief summary of tonight’s events?”
“Yes, he pointed out my situation quite clearly.” I wondered if she noticed the contempt in my voice.
Night's Gift: Book One of the Night's Vampire Trilogy Page 16
