by O. M. Grey
She did not smile.
“You’re not free, Arthur. You will pay for the suffering you’ve caused. You will pay for every second of it.”
“I know. I accept that fate. I will atone, properly.”
“You cannot escape it, not even like this.”
Her hand clasped the headboard’s spindle and with a loud crack she broke it off. She whipped around, faster than even I could move, and when she stood back, she smiled. Avalon held a look of horror. A pain in my chest consumed every other thought. The wooden stake struck right through my heart, but it didn’t kill me. It should’ve killed me.
“Perfect,” she said. “As you see, you cannot be killed now, Arthur. Even a stake will not release you. Your body is now your prison, forever. Allow Avalon here to teach you the true meaning of love.”
Avalon’s hand hovered over the stake, afraid to touch it or move it. Blood tears flowed from her eyes, and from mine. Was this the torment the succubus spoke of? Watching my love in pain over me? The torture of having my freedom taken away, at being at the whim and control of a woman?
Perhaps it was what I deserved.
Perhaps death would be welcomed.
“Not even death?” I whispered.
“No. Not even like that. Death is a release, Arthur. A relief, and you will never know relief. Not until you pay for what you’ve done. Not until you suffer the sum of all the suffering you’ve caused for over three centuries. Thousands of women. Men, too. Families. Rape. Murder. Exploitation. Each one of their lives were forever altered because of you, Arthur. Now, you will take responsibility for that pain. You will accept responsibility for every moment of pain from every single soul you damaged. You will pay it back in kind.”
“Is there no reprieve? But I said I’d repent? What can I do to repent?”
“You can start by admitting it all and apologizing for it. Genuine, remember. Not just words. Not just out of fear, but from your blackened heart. You will repent or you will beg for the true death. For centuries you’ll beg for release, and during all that time, you will be unable to hurt anyone else.”
“I do admit it. I did already and I will do so again. I have done horrible things, and I deserve this punishment. I am sorry for all of it. The weight of the truth suffocates me. I’ve hidden behind denial for so long, justification and power and privilege, but now, I can’t run anymore. I’ll face it now, and it is horrible. The guilt, the sorrow. Oh God!” I thought I’d be sick. As I fully, truly admitted what I had done, without justification, every scream, every plea for mercy came rushing back, threatening to stifle the undead life from me.
It would be welcome. It would be a release.
“Just to be very clear, if you, even in thought, think yourself above Avalon, try to control her, behave or think you own her, or lie to her, you will be thrust into your punishment. Forever. You will learn what it means to love. You will take your atonement seriously. You will get a taste of your punishment every day while Avalon sleeps. Do you accept this?”
“I do. Completely.” After all, I didn’t have much of a choice. How bad could it be anyway? If I had Avalon by my side, I could endure anything. I kissed her then.
“If you so much as look at another woman in lust, this is what will happen,” she said. In an instant I was enveloped in darkness. Nausea overcame me, unlike I’d ever known. If the worst sickness I had known in all my time was nausea, this was something altogether worse. Gorge rose, not from my stomach, but from my tainted soul. I felt a panic. My breath came fast and horrific images of every woman I had ever had, ever taken by force, pelted my brain. Not just their images, but what they felt. Their fear. Oh, God. No. This couldn’t be what it had been like for them. I leaned over to vomit, but I had no body, no mouth. Just pain. Just fear. Just darkness. Just agony.
Every scream. Every plea. Like before, but tenfold. A hundred fold. Not just some distant memory now, but as if I was living it. As if I was them experiencing the violation. The murder. The humiliation. It was a kind of agony that surpassed all physical pain, for I have endured physical pain, and there was a realness to it. Horrible, yes, but always satiable. Not this. Somehow because it was intangible it made it all the more horrific, all the more unbearable. It was bottomless. Timeless.
It was forever.
Every moment lasted a lifetime, and I knew I had been abandoned here. Alone in this despair and darkness. Forever. Years passed in every moment. Each second stretched out for an eternity. No relief. No breath. Nothing but fear. Pain. Unspeakable agony.
Then, as quickly as it had started, it was gone. Constance and Avalon stood before me once again.
“That’s what is waiting for you, Arthur. The moment you slip up. The moment she is no longer happy or loved or absolutely adored, genuinely, this is what awaits you. If she dies, this is what awaits you. When you die, this is what awaits you, but you will not die. You cannot die, not unless this woman wills it. Not unless you have atoned for all, and this woman wills it.”
I gasped for breath, then leaned over and vomited blood.
“This is mercy?” Avalon cried. “This is hell!”
“What did you expect, my dear? It is hell, the same hell he has inflicted on countless women, men, families, children. It is hell, but the mercy is in the reprieve. Jeffries here,” she said, shaking his poppet at us, “he will know no relief, not even a moment of it for, I would guess, a few centuries. Likely a millennium. Arthur will feel relief every night in your arms, through your love.
“That’s mercy, Avalon. That is the only mercy I can offer. Or,” she said, pointing to my dead heart, “I could take his heart and consciousness now, and he will start his own millennia-long atonement, uninterrupted like the rest.”
“No!” Avalon and I said together. Then Ava continued, “No. Thank you, Constance. You are merciful in allowing us this time. He will change. He has changed. You’ll see. He will be genuine. May I ask for one thing?”
“You may.”
“Allow him choice. Allow him his thoughts.” Avalon’s eyes pleaded with Constance, begged her for mercy on my pathetic behalf.
“Ava. That’s where betrayal starts.” Constance remained cold, detached. Even her tone was flat.
“True, and I’m not asking you let up on your sentence, but I don’t want to control him. I don’t want him to fear me or be forced to love me. That’s not love.”
“Too true, my dear. Too true.” With this, Constance raised an eyebrow, in curiosity, perhaps.
“Allow him his choice. If he is unhappy, let him think it, as long as he talks to me. If he desires another woman, let him desire her. As long as he is open and honest with me about that and everything. As long as he is willing to be vulnerable. As long as he is genuine. That’s all I or anyone can ask. Allow us to build true intimacy. Allow him to learn genuine love. Allow him his choice. I only require him to be respectful and loving, open and honest. I don’t want him imprisoned.”
Constance crossed her arms and set her jaw. Her eyes became misty, but then hardened again when she fixed them on me. “That is love, Arthur. Do you see? She is already teaching you the true meaning.” She softened again when she turned her attention back to my beloved Avalon. I didn’t deserve this fine woman’s love, and Constance knew it. “I will allow him his thoughts and what you ask, but if he chooses to leave you, or you choose to leave him, if he is cruel or condescending or disrespectful or violent in any way, I’m afraid what I said holds. You need not be lovers. You need not force anything. Do be genuine, be real. But he will learn commitment. He will learn the true meaning of love, and there are many forms of love, not just erotic. He will learn, and when you sleep, he will be reminded of what he’s done. If this is an act, I have no doubt he will soften for real, quite quickly. People who’ve known suffering, they’re kinder. I think even this taste of what he’s caused has already made him kinder.”
“Indeed. It has. I had no idea. Truly. It was as you said, like they weren’t real. Like they were pup
pets or like your poppet, there for my enjoyment, but now I can feel it. Now I can feel them, and I am so sorry. Ava, my sweet love, I am so …”
“It’s called empathy, Arthur. Welcome to humanity,” Constance said, then turned to leave. “Remember the feather, Avalon. Call me if you ever need me on this or any matter.” She turned to me with eyes of stone one last time before she left. “Arthur, behave.”
“You know I will,” I called out after her, and I felt a wave of peace flow through my heart, and it wasn’t just because I removed the wooden splint from it. There was truth in her words, and I felt it. As sure as I felt Avalon’s lips all over my cheeks and eyelids and forehead, and, finally, lips. No stirring below, even as she kissed me deeper.
Impotent for a year, she said. I thought that would be horrifying, but it actually felt like freedom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CONSTANCE
It wouldn’t be too sad to leave this place. Although I loved London, this had been a trying time. Back home, Everett packed for the journey back to Paris. We’d start there for a bit of a holiday, then on to New York. Still, something kept nagging me from my time in London, something I couldn’t shake.
I had given Arthur a reprieve, of sorts, showed him mercy. Being so close to my own end got me thinking perhaps I could love for myself.
Although my stomach fluttered like a young girl’s, having her first dance with that handsome stranger, not knowing what horrors were possible, I rapped my knuckles on the door and held my breath.
A midsize, rather roundish butler answered the door. “Yes?”
“Miss Charlotte Sopha calling. Is the baron available?”
“I shall check, ma’am. Do come in from the cold and wait in the parlour.”
“Thank you,” I said, stepping into the warm house. His home was as he was: comforting and inviting, and somehow kind. Although I knew he was a man of some means, titled and the like, not to mention his inventions, but his home was far from lavish. Basic necessities with an elegance and just a hint of whimsy. “I rather think I’m in love,” I said to the empty parlour.
“Miss Sopha!” Vincent’s voice delighted my ears. I turned to see him smiling at me. “To what do I owe this very pleasant surprise?”
“I’m leaving London, I’m afraid, and I couldn’t bear to do so without saying goodbye.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I am ever so pleased to have made your acquaintance, Charlotte. So, did the interview not go well? Forgive me,” he said as soon as the words left his lips. “How rude of me to pry.”
“Nonsense, Vincent. I had promised to tell you, and I’d like to tell you much more. Might we speak in private?”
“My dear, I wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe. I have heard tales, after all.”
“I am quite sure you are the perfect gentleman, Baron. I feel perfectly safe with you.”
“Very well.” He turned and shut the doors to the parlour, and moved across the room to a bizarre contraption. It looked like a big horn protruding from a wooden box. A black disc sat beneath an arm attached to the horn. He cranked the handle and tilted the brass end of the arm until it rested on the black disc, which was now turning.
Music came from it!
“Whatever is that?”
“It’s something called a Victrola, my dear. Yes. Not invented for several years yet, so must keep it quiet for now. It is rather remarkable, though, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed!”
“Yes, this will keep us protected from prying ears. What would you like to tell me, Miss Sopha?”
“Please, call me Charlotte.”
He nodded and sat on a chair adjacent to the sofa on which I sat. Perfect gentleman.
“This will all be rather difficult to say, I’m afraid, and even more difficult to believe.”
“Nonsense, I’ve seen more than most, and there is nothing too bizarre for me anymore. No, not anymore.”
“Well, you see, Vincent, to be quite frank, I’m rather in love with you.”
“Oh! My! Well, my dear, of all the things I thought you would say, I must admit that was the last. You had been quite clear of your level of interest on the airship. Why this change of heart?”
“It’s not a change of heart, but rather a change of mind. Allow me to explain. First, I’ll show you my preferred visage.”
His brows furrowed, not knowing what I meant by this, but then arched high on his forehead as I shifted to Constance before him.
“Oh. Well. That is indeed something I haven’t come across before. Are you human, my dear?”
“I was. I still am in some ways. I’m a succubus.” I braced myself for the cringe and questions about being a demon and the like, but none came. So I offered, “I’m not a demon.”
“I’m well aware of what a succubus is, my dear. Vengeance mostly, isn’t that right? Well, that explains why you were keeping company with McFerret. I suppose you were the cause behind his disappearance? The Professor’s, too, no doubt.”
There wasn’t a trace of judgment or disapproval in his voice. It was as if we were discussing the weather over tea. “I was. Well deserved, both.”
“Of that I have no doubt. But I am curious as to why you are here. Why have you revealed your true self to me? Am I to be punished?”
Again, no fear. No accusatory tone. This man wasn’t jumping to defense because there was no defense needed. How refreshing to be in the presence of true courage.
“No. My heart is not my own, you see. My existence is to punish men and protect women, but I started to wonder, after having a rather rough week, if there wasn’t some room for both. Perhaps I could love again. I have many faces, as you see. I can be whomever you want. Fulfill your every fantasy.”
“Sweet Charlotte, is that your name?”
“Constance.”
“Yes, Constance. It suites you. I think you know well my affection for you, but I’m afraid I have no need of fantasy. I desire a genuine woman, real love, which, I suppose, is why I am a bachelor. There aren’t many genuine people, are there, Constance?”
“No, Vincent, not in either gender, although your odds are better than women’s, I’m afraid.”
“No doubt. No doubt. I’m not suggesting you are disingenuous, my dear, not in the least! Your courage to reveal yourself to a virtual stranger is testament to your integrity. Indeed. Although I would be honored to call you my own, with your work, you could never be, could you?”
“Not completely, and I know that’s not fair to you.”
“I couldn’t bear to think of what you must endure, time and again. Oh, Constance, would you leave it behind? Not for me, of course—I would never ask a woman to alter her life to suit me—but for your own safety? Your own happiness?”
“It is who I am now.”
“Understood.”
There wasn’t much else to say. I pulled a white feather from my reticule, the last one I had brought on this trip, and handed it to him. “If you should ever change your mind, Vincent, or even want a traveling companion now and again, for I would love to see the future—only the future, I’ve had enough of the past—just whisper into this feather, and I will hear.”
“Perhaps out of time will be our time, my dear. Somewhere out of time.”
Thank you so much for reading.
I hope you enjoyed
the adventures of Arthur, Avalon, & Constance.
please consider writing a review on Amazon.com and Goodreads. Just a few sentences is so very appreciated.
Please share it on your networks &
recommend it to your friends!
Peace.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Special Thanks to...
My amazing husband, Ethan, for your unending support and for standing by me through the toughest and most wondrous times. I love you.
My awesome beta readers who gave me invaluable feedback and confidence to move forward:
James Conrad Agin
Bekah June
Adrian Hutchins
C. L. Stegall
James & Deborah Kent
Susan Greene & LaMon Perales. Your care and concern helped me find my voice again. Thank you for all that you do for survivors of sexualized and domestic violence.
A special remembrance for my buddy, buddy boy, Oreo. Beloved son and companion for well over a decade. He died an untimely death during the same month I wrote this book: Januarly 2013.
You will never be forgotten, my love. You are now with Brontë and Star.
I'll be joining you all shortly.
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