Falling to Pieces

by L. T. Kelly

  I sat up and perched on the edge of the bed.

  “This had better be good,” he spoke into the receiver, his eyes never leaving me as they appeared to inspect every inch.

  “Accept my apologies. I thought it would be Victoria. Yes, I have her in my chambers. Ok, I’ll bring her now.”

  My body tensed and I held my breath. At least with Bartholomew I had a bit of power. I had no clue what I would face outside of this room. Panic began to attack my lungs. My chest heaved while I tried to catch a breath

  “I hope they agree to spare you,” he said, reaching for my arm and pulling me to my feet before continuing, “so I have the chance to make you mine.”

  I managed to prevent myself from snorting at his words as we walked to the unbreakable door. I took a deep breath and concentrated on slowing my breathing down, my lips forming an o shape as I steadily inhaled and exhaled.

  He swung the heavy door open. I waited for another attack from Victoria, but the hallway was empty.

  Bartholomew clutched the top of my arm as he led me down to the door facing us at the end of the hallway, all of a sudden deciding to treat me like a prisoner, perhaps for the benefit of those we were about to face.

  Chatting ceased as the door opened and we stepped inside the room. The floor of the huge space was parquet. On the ivory painted walls hung massive paintings in beautiful bright colours, each one individually lit up providing the only lighting in the room.

  Maroon leather, high-back chairs were placed around a huge dark wood conference table. Wine bottles and decanters of blood were lined up down the centre of the table and each place setting had a long stemmed crystal glass in front, resting on a black leather coaster.

  Bartholomew stepped forward and addressed the eight people that were seated—all of them staring at me.

  “Good evening, Ladies and Gentleman.” He nodded towards me. “This is the child of Thomas, Teagan Lewis. Are we going to hear the evidence or go straight for the verdict?” A smile licked at his lips as he took a seat at the head of the table and looked up at me. I fidgeted, my eyes meeting each member of The Assembly, including Victoria.

  ‘Where is Thomas? He must be dead.’ I experienced a sickening sinking feeling in my stomach. The loss of my maker made my body ache and my head spin. If they’d killed him they were surely going to kill me, too.

  My attention to the group was taken away by a low, barely audible moaning coming from a darkened corner of the room. The scent of lilies and blood consumed me. I flashed across the room and threw myself over Marc’s body. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, and he’d lost a lot of blood.

  “Can you hear me? Marc, can you hear me? I’m here, I’m right here.”

  The group stood over me hissing, causing me to flinch and turn my face up to them. I snatched my glare from them, back down to Marc, my Marc, my lover, my friend.

  His pulse sounded weak and his usually olive skin appeared pale. I glanced down at his injured leg, the bone still protruding through his open wound. I gritted my teeth, shaking uncontrollably, though this time it wasn’t from fear.

  The grief of losing Thomas and then facing the crumpled figure of the man I loved dying on the floor in front of me raced through my veins burning and boiling until the volcano finally picked the moment to erupt, trying to rid me of the emotions that had built up inside me.

  “You fucking animals,” I screamed as I turned my face up to them once again, still hunched down next to Marc’s broken body, refusing to leave his side.

  “I’ll get you out of here, baby. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll get you out I promise,” I whispered into Marc’s ear, squeezing my eyes shut.

  “I love you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper and choked with emotion. “I need you to know, if I die, that I loved you from the moment I saw you.”

  “You’re not going to die,” I said stroking my hand over the thick waves of his ebony hair, hushing him tenderly.

  “Teagan, if you push the bone back in it’ll start to heal,” he panted before closing his eyes.

  I shook him but he’d passed out again. I leaned towards his broken leg but Bruce pulled me to my feet. I yanked my arm away from him as I swooped my torso towards the wooden floor before flicking my fully extended leg in the air, swinging my foot towards the target. The thick tread of my boot connected with Bruce’s chin sending him hurtling across the room. His body slammed against one of the paintings, but he landed on his feet, closed his eyes and shook his head. They opened again and he hissed, glowering into my eyes with his fangs extended. Before I even noticed him move he held me off the ground, his fingers making indentations around my throat.

  I smiled at him, a sentiment he obviously didn’t appreciate as he threw me to the ground with force. Luckily, I expected the response and managed to land in a crouch so no damage had been done to my body. I didn’t have the time I’d need to heal if a chance to make an escape occurred.

  The other vampires in The Assembly stood stock still, their mouths hung agape and their eyes were wide. They’d obviously never experienced anyone who’d fought back.

  Only Bartholomew’s eyes portrayed something different—amazement and respect. His sea green irises gleamed with equal measures of both.

  “Just let us go. What will it take for you to let us go?” I stood with my feet planted apart, ready to fight. My head moved to look at each of them in turn. They’d blocked me in by standing in a semi-circle formation, closing over the corner of the room.

  I stood, waiting for their response as the thick metal door slammed open.

  Then, it was my turn to mirror The Assembly’s shocked expressions.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Assembly and I froze with horror as the opposite end of the room filled with a group that had begun to form a line against the far wall. There were five of them in total.

  Thomas led the group into the room. I was astounded when I saw Alex by his side.

  ‘Thank God, thank God,’ I glanced up to the ceiling letting out a long steady breath as I rested my eyes on my maker. Relief washed through me for a moment before my muscles returned to rigidity.

  I nodded at Alex who attempted to appear serious, but his lips turned into a crooked grin when he found my face out of the gaggle of vampires. His mousey blond hair flopped over his face, hanging like a drape over one eye. He wore his trademark black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt and a floor length black leather coat.

  The rest of the group had strong jaws, their chins jutted out in defiance and their oval eyes glowed yellow.

  Gabriella walked amongst the throng. I narrowed my eyes at her and she returned the sentiment. The colour of her eyes proved what I thought I’d known all along—she was a werewolf, too.

  “We’ve come to collect our wounded.” The first person to speak took a step forward. A hulk of a man—his eyes glowed brighter than the other two wolves in human form—his body hummed and shook. His cropped black hair was peppered with grey and the skin around his eyes bore deep laughter lines. I inanely wondered how they would look if he smiled.

  Bartholomew stepped forward so he stood at the front and centre of the group of vampires. Victoria followed him and stood by his side. He shot her a sideways glance that displayed utter disdain.

  “He has broken the law. We are dealing with it,” Bartholomew stated, his fangs on display, his spine ramrod straight making the most of his muscular six foot four frame.

  “By all means,” the man said, his Italian accent evident in his speech. He was beyond a shadow of a doubt Marc’s father. I knew he could also change without a full moon; the vibrations from his body displayed the threat was imminent.

  “I agree. Laws have been broken. You have the right to trial and punish your own kind.” He took a deep breath and turned to glare at me. “But I cannot allow you to try one of mine,” he said, turning his scrutiny back to Bartholomew.

  Bartholomew turned to face Thomas. “You have led these people into our home,
Thomas? You will go on trial for treason,” he spat, waving his hand towards my maker.

  “I don’t care. I will not allow you to kill my daughter for a broken law she wasn’t even aware of.” Thomas’ voice was gravely and Alex straightened up in response, showing he was in agreement with my maker’s words.

  “Letting either of these law breakers go is impossible,” Bartholomew snapped, shrugging his shoulders. “It would display weakness, and we are not weak.”

  He turned to face the other members of The Assembly. They all nodded at him in agreement and then at each other the air filled with satisfied mutters.

  A groan escaped Marc’s lips. The room remained silent, the atmosphere thickened with animosity. I searched Marc’s father’s face for a sign that he wanted me to comfort his son, his son—who was bleeding to death in the corner of the room. Nothing, not a flicker of compassion seemed evident in his expression. He shook his head, pursing his lips at me. An expression brimming with disgust spread over the leathery skin covering his face.

  The woman standing next to him had her gaze trained on Bartholomew. She didn’t grace me with a single glance, her lips twitched as though she wanted to speak, as though her own silence was eating her up from within.

  Gabriella appeared much the same. She tapped her shapely thighs in anticipation. Pain creased her face as though she was holding herself back from rushing over to Marc.

  I spun on my heel to return to comfort him, try to fix him so he could begin to heal. If Mr. Romano didn’t give a shit, if he was that angry with his son because of his choice of lover, then I didn’t care. He was clearly there to salvage his pride, not the life of his eldest child.

  I hunched down beside Marc, his eyes opened in slits.

  “My family is here?” The Assembly had blocked his vision so he must have heard their voices.

  Before I had the chance to answer, a blow to my head knocked me into the wall sending a forked crack up through the plaster. I instinctively raised my arms crossing them defensively over my face. I peered out of the space between where my arms lay to see who had delivered the blow. Gabriella stood over me.

  “Get the fuck away from my man you fucking blood sucking little whore,” she screamed, her body quaking with anger as she towered above me, her mouth twisted into a snarl.

  A female vampire who was part of The Assembly wrenched Gabriella away from me, grabbing a fist full of her dark curly bangs.

  Gabriella wore a cropped black waistcoat showing her defined stomach muscles, so it was—not considering the circumstances—comical that a slight blonde vampire wearing a pale pink twin set and pearls had yanked her away with such ease.

  She carried her away, holding her off the ground and out away from her, like she was a stinking piece of trash being delivered to the garbage can.

  Gabriella’s screeching pierced the air as she tried to kick her legs back in a futile attempt to damage the vampire carrying her.

  The other vampires chuckled as the tiny woman delivered Gabriella back to her group, placing her down next to Mr. Romano who shot her a warning glance and shook his head. Her chin dropped down to her chest in apparent shame for her unplanned outburst. Gabriella clearly had a bad temper.

  The woman stalked back over to the vampires rubbing her hands together with a clap after each gesture, her nose wrinkled and lips pressed together with disgust.

  The tension in the room shifted as The Assembly flung themselves against the wall without warning.

  Gasps and strangled cries came from their mouths; even Bartholomew’s eyes portrayed terror. The slight blonde vampire who had rescued me from Gabriella’s wrath had turned away so her breasts were pressed against the coolness of the wall and her wide eyes faced away from the room. I traced their gazes back across the room to meet the source of their horror.

  Mr. Romano held out what had been his hands, now transformed. He held them out so he displayed thick rounded pink pads with huge black talons sprouting from the velvety white fur.

  He dropped down onto all fours, arching his back as it burst majestically into coarse dark grey hair. His legs shivered until they changed into powerful hind legs; muscular and rounded where they met with his long body.

  In one fluid movement his huge paws rested on the conference table giving him the height required to ensure his newly formed shape appeared to be as formidable as possible.

  His muzzle was pulled back over his gums, baring his powerful sharp teeth. He growled and snarled so hard that his head shook. Spittle from his mouth shot out of his strong greying jaw on to the polished surface of the table. He disregarded the bottles and decanters as he strode down the length of tabletop with elegance deserving of such a creature. The contents toppled, rolled and smashed on to the parquet flooring as his claws tapped slowly towards the back wall where The Assembly were lined up like victims waiting for a firing squad to take aim. Even Bruce seemed to be desperately search for a means of escape from the room whilst squirming against the wall.

  I looked over to Thomas and Alex. They’d clearly never been present when a wolf had turned before that very moment. Their mouths hung slack but their eyes twinkled with a respect for the magical creature standing before them.

  The only sound in the room was the click clack of the werewolf’s steps becoming closer and the pounding heartbeats of all present.

  Bartholomew sucked in a breath, steeling himself. He held his palms out and stepped bravely towards the animal.

  “Ok, ok, wolf. I can understand your point.” He nodded at Mr. Romano and raised an eyebrow. “Take your injured and leave.” His tongue darted out and wet his lips before he continued. “On the condition that you never return here again or make the whereabouts of this place known to anyone else.” He blinked rapidly at the wolf. “Do you agree my people?” His voice sounded shrill as he turned to face The Assembly; all of them, apart from Bartholomew, cowered against the solid surface, pressing their bodies as far away as possible from the beautiful wolf.

  They all nodded their heads furiously in agreement. Their backs were literally and figuratively against the wall.

  Marc’s father burst back into his human form. The transformation back into human form took place quickly and more fluidly than the change into wolf. He stood atop the table butt naked, his body displaying the same masculinity as his sons, though aging and some scarring had marred its undeniable beauty.

  He walked over to his wife, who stared at him with adoration. The muscles in his backside flexed with each step.

  I looked down noticing the shredded black cloth that had been Mr. Romano’s clothing scattered at her feet. Mrs. Romano dipped her head in agreement to Bartholomew’s terms. She flinched and pursed her lips as her eyes flicked from the beautiful paintings mounted on the walls to her gorgeous son lying ragged and bloodied on the crafted floor as she waited for permission to tend to him.

  Gabriella rushed over to Marc’s unmoving body. I’d remained crouched beside his head. She growled at me as she pushed his shinbone back inside his body. The crunch sickened me, and luckily Marc was still knocked out so I didn’t have to bear his pain.

  “This is entirely your fault,” she hissed as Marc’s mother and father followed her into the corner.

  Gabriella slid across the floor nudging me out of the way with her elbow as she lifted Marc’s head and rested his cheek against her breast and stoked her fingers down his face as though she’d done it a million times.

  She nodded as his father gently lifted Marc’s legs and they rose in unison. Marc came out of unconsciousness as they began carrying him out, their heels tapping in time towards the entrance.

  I watched as he brushed his fingers over her lips tenderly, his eyes filled with sadness as he breathed, “Thank you,” before closing his golden eyes once more.

  Her words swirled around my head, a toxic chemical flooding through my veins. She’d called him her man. They looked like a couple. Their tender responses to each other reverberated painfully through my mind, t
he images of their touches rippled through me like stabbing little needles.

  His parents supported her—they hated me.

  I had caused all of this trouble. In their minds this was completely my fault. They already had one son who’d abandoned them, would he be willing to do the same? Did he truly love me, or were his words of love uttered in a dying moment and meaningless?

  The room started to spin. My body felt hollow. Pain wreaked havoc as I remained slumped in the corner.

  It started off as a dull ache in my chest and spread like a forest fire until every inch of me, inside and out, experienced the ache. As though a knife had been driven through my ribcage, I suffered a relentless scraping against my bleeding heart.

  Time seemed to slow down as I observed the wolves carrying Marc out of the room, disappearing slowly from view. I shuddered and pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself for comfort, steadying my head against the wall behind me.

  I could perceive the sound of muffled chatter from the people around me, but I didn’t hear a word they said. All eyes were on me when I realised loud groans were escaping from my twisted mouth.

  Thomas knelt down in front of me. His mouth moved rapidly and the veins in his neck bulged like thick ropes as though he were shouting at Bartholomew.

  I failed to understand anything being said, deafened by my own dry sobs and the relentless pounding of my heart. Thomas jabbed a finger in Bartholomew’s direction. Victoria loomed beside him with a spoonful of luminous green liquid, her mouth twisted into a sickening smile. ‘Good,’ I thought ‘just kill me, I want to die.’

  Bartholomew ripped her arm away from me, his mouth moved but I couldn’t grasp the words that came out.

  Alex crouched in front of me having pushed the other two men out of the way, stroking his fingers over my fiery locks and then down my cheeks, his eyes filled with concern. He’d never seen me like this because I’d never been like this before. Alex had only ever seen me as a strong woman that needed no man. What had Marc done to me? I’d morphed into someone reliant on his caress, his love.