by P. Anastasia
“You’ll be safe here,” he said softly, all malice gone from his voice.
He removed his hand to reveal a warm, subtly lit bedroom with a large bay window and breathtaking view of the ocean. A massive white moon hung in the sky, shining like a beacon and glittering off waves rolling toward the shore. He prompted me to turn toward the other side of the room, where ruby-red candles perched in sconces and atop furniture lit the walls with a comforting yellow glow.
I could not pretend to ignore the grand bed in the middle of the room. Large, elegantly carved bedposts spiraled toward the ceiling. The crisp, fine linens were red as a rose and decorations along the walls flowed in shades of autumn golds and browns.
Fears bubbled inside me, but the place exuded tranquility, and it was difficult to remain on edge with its warmth swallowing me up.
“I promise not to hurt you,” Derek said in a calm, human tone. It was an eerie change of pace.
When he pressed a hand to the side of my arm and slid it down to meet my fingers and take my hand into his own, his skin felt warm and his grasp gentle—gentler than it had been since he’d been changed.
Derek came around to face me and reached up to fork his fingers through my hair, combing them behind my ear and resting his palm at the base of my neck. His other hand rose toward my collar bone, and he pressed it against my skin, near my heart.
“Your heart is racing,” he said. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Since I’d been taken by the vampire disease, I’d had no pulse…
But sure enough, I felt something beating—thumping against my ribcage. A patter of anxiety and anticipation fluttered in me, even as I knew it was wrong to feel.
I felt blood coursing through my veins and butterflies twirling in my stomach. All the overwhelming sensations washing over me were reminiscent of before—of the time when—
Derek’s hand lifted from near my heart and came down to clasp me at my waist, his other hand shifting to my chin.
My heart raced and a breath caught in my throat as he lifted my face toward his and moved in to kiss me.
I thought to lift my arms and push him away.
I thought to shove him back.
And I could have… I think my body would have listened.
But despite all the rejection and disgust swelling inside, regardless of how much anger I’d felt for all he had done to me… a fog of conflicting feelings made me hazy and unafraid.
The anxious, very human flutter of my heart reminded me how I had felt once before. Although I had not necessarily missed the sensation or regretted losing it, I did feel a sense of nostalgia and contentment as it consumed me again.
Or perhaps, Derek was loosening his grasp on my consciousness, now that I had stopped resisting.
He released me for a moment and then took me by the hand, walking me toward the crimson bed. I sat on the edge and my weight gently sunk into the softness. Derek joined me, his skin tone and body temperature warmer than before and unlike any vampire’s.
Human.
There was a warm sensation on the back of my neck as his fingers brushed my hair away and kissed my shoulder. My head tilted to the side.
In those shadows, alive with dancing candlelight and warm colors, my memories drifted away. I had forgotten who I was and who I had become. I had forgotten the malicious things Derek had done to me before, and the pain he had caused.
Our eyes met. He cupped my face in his hands and then he kissed my lips.
His warm touch put me at ease. I recalled what it had felt like to be loved by him, and what those feelings had once made me imagine, even yearn for, in secret. And for a fleeting moment, I thought I could remember someone else… but that memory evaporated and only he remained.
A dull chime jarred me awake.
I opened my eyes to grass and dirt—the cemetery.
I pushed up onto my knees and glanced around. Derek’s headstone loomed over me, the thick fracture no longer visible, but the small mound of dirt where I’d buried the ring was still fresh.
My phone chimed again.
I retrieved it from my pocket.
Matthaya had texted me several times over the last few minutes, asking for my whereabouts. It must have been exceedingly difficult for him to resist simply reaching out to me in my mind, but then… he had promised to give me privacy and space.
Did this mean he was unaware of everything that had happened in the vision with Derek?
Maybe it was better that way.
I scrambled to my feet and quickly typed a reply; I apologized for spending too long at my mother’s grave.
He noted that I hadn’t returned by my usual time.
I defended that the recent stressors had made me lose track of the hour.
He seemed to understand.
It wasn’t like Kathera to ignore texts, or to stay at the shop past scheduled hours. I was tempted to peek into her mind, but that ability was an unfortunate habit I had been trying to break.
I would not be Ve’tani.
I would not pry into my wife’s thoughts or attempt to manipulate her actions.
With our marriage vows, we had made a promise to trust each other, and I would keep that promise, even as she struggled with her past. I trusted she would ask for help.
I felt Kathera approaching and went to the door to greet her before she could reach for the knob.
“I’m sorry if I worried you,” she said, stepping up onto the porch.
“You didn’t worry me. My habit of checking up on you has been difficult to break, but I am trying my hardest.”
“I appreciate your trying.”
I glanced over her quickly and couldn’t ignore the patches of dirt discoloring her shirt and jeans.
“Where did all that come from?” I gestured toward her as she passed the threshold and entered. I closed the door behind her.
She froze momentarily, and I sensed a fleeting spark of discomfort flash through her.
“I sat at Mother’s grave tonight,” she replied. “Things have been tough lately, as you know.”
I nodded.
“I know this sounds weird, but I had an urge to sit on the ground and just feel the earth beneath me, to be a little closer, I guess.”
There was anxiety in her blood, but she successfully masked it in her voice. Something was off. I knew that her mother’s gravesite, especially during this season, had been well maintained and was surrounded by a lush bed of grass. Even if there was exposed dirt or mud, she’d have to have taken quite a fall to get so much on her clothes.
Vampires were agile and sharp and we didn’t experience human mishaps.
However, if Kathera had a reason to hide information from me, I would not prod her for it.
It was tempting to do so, but I had to let it go.
“I understand,” I replied. “No need to explain.”
“Thank you,” she said with a small smile. “I will try to be more conscious of your feelings if I decide to do something like that again.”
The shadows under her eyes had darkened and there was a hint of hunger brewing in her.
“Do you need something?” I asked. She looked very tired. Fine lines of red forking veins were visible on the skin around the corners of her eyes, an indicator of stress.
“If you don’t mind,” she replied. “Thank you.”
I went into the basement to retrieve a bottle of blood.
As I returned up the steps, she asked, “Did you get in touch with the doctor?”
“Yes,” I replied, entering the kitchen. I opened the cupboard and removed a pair of wine glasses. “I have sent her the additional information she requested.” The glasses clinked against the marble counter top. “She’s making plans to visit at the end of the month, while the campus is on holiday.”
“That soon?” Kathera seemed surprised by my efficiency.
I pushed a metal corkscrew into the bottle and turned
it. “Will it be a problem?” I pulled back on the cork and removed it.
“No. I was under the impression that she required more details before finalizing her plans.”
“As I had mentioned earlier,” I continued, filling her glass halfway with blood, “I have worked in antiquities dealings before.” I poured a glass for myself and then replaced the cork. “I was able to provide her with enough detail to authenticate the pieces without her being here, but she would still like to see them, and discuss her findings with us personally.”
I had also offered to pay her stay for a few extra days, so that she might take in the local sights. I thought her company and intellect may put my wife’s mind at rest, and it was worth the small fortune to get the doctor to take the trip if only for that reason. “The opportunity will also allow us to ask additional questions.”
“You’re right,” Kathera said with a subtle nod. I passed her a glass of blood. “Thank you for discussing that with her. I look forward to meeting her in person.” She took a sip from the glass and paused to savor it.
“You appear quite tired,” I said quietly, and then sipped from my glass. “Did everything go all right tonight?”
She tipped her glass back and drank from it again before answering.
“Yes.”
“And Kieran? Is he still working out?”
“Yes. Kieran is a great help. I’m grateful you suggested we hire him.”
I wanted to ask her about Derek, but there was so much tension in the room. Over what, I could not tell.
She finished her drink and set the glass on the counter with a subtle clink. Her wrist was exposed to me briefly and I noted that the bite wound was barely visible.
I finished the last of my blood and then set the glass down beside hers.
“Your wrist looks better,” I said.
She cupped it in her other hand and held it close to her chest. “Yes. It does.”
I tried very hard to bite my tongue.
“I’m fine,” she said before I could ask. “I would let you know if anything had changed.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
I appreciated the sentiment, but she was not telling the truth…
Only a few days had passed before Derek visited me in my sleep again. It was different this time. I had stopped resisting his advances and he had stopped torturing me with horrific acts and visions.
Derek had the power to infiltrate my mind any time he pleased—made obvious by his interjection at the cemetery—but now that I had given in to his demands, he left my sanity intact while I was awake.
Guilt drained me of what few emotions I had left; I was a fool for surrendering—for not fighting back or telling my husband the truth.
But how could I?
Telling Matthaya meant a death sentence for Derek. A physical altercation could also put Matthaya’s wellbeing at risk.
They were only dreams, but they felt like reality.
Derek swept me up into his intimate fantasy each time I slumbered.
I would wake with fractured memories of the events and a wretched feeling of self loathing.
It was stupid of me to play along. I was only pretending to consent to it all, but that consent enveloped and manipulated me like a drug. I couldn’t escape it.
When I stopped fighting, Derek stopped exhibiting abusive behavior, forcing my actions, and questioning my faithfulness. It was… easier this way.
I’d given in to his desires, and I felt nothing but remorse.
I enjoyed none of it, and when I awoke, confusion riddled my thoughts.
The cycle continued.
During those moments, I was forced to forget my real husband.
Kathera slept beside me, her eyes closed tightly, her body still as stone, and an unusual calm placating her.
On the outside…
Subtle distress radiated from her mind. She’d been trying to hide it from me for awhile, but I’d witnessed her wake disoriented several times and then brush it off once she’d gotten her bearings. Intense hunger could cause some disruptions, but her symptoms were too close together and persisted even after she’d consumed blood.
I could not disregard the incidents anymore.
I had to learn the truth, even if it meant going against my word and prying into her mind. There was nothing I wanted more than to assure her safety, but I could not do that if she continued to keep secrets.
It was ironic that following my confrontation with Ve’tani, and shortly after our agreement to ignore Derek, he had begun to leave her alone.
Derek was not one to back down.
“I’m sorry I have to do this,” I whispered, brushing a lock of hair from her face.
I closed my eyes and lay down beside her, willing the makeshift barrier between our minds to collapse so that I could slide into her subconscious again. It had been a long time since I had attempted such a strong connection, yet there was no resistance whatsoever.
I was transported to an imaginary place inside her mind, where heavy fog swallowed me up and the air embraced me with cold arms. I took a step, my shoe crunching on twigs. A gust of breeze blew and the fog began to separate, revealing a pathway lined with dead, skeletal trees along an old dirt road. A frigid wet kiss hit my cheek; I shook my head and swiped away the lone snowflake.
A flurry began drifting down from a cloudy gray sky, and when I exhaled, a puff of white came from my lips.
Was this one of Kathera’s dreams? It was vivid and clear. She had told me several times that she had never seen snow, but wished that she could. Maybe this was a place of inspiration for her.
I rubbed my arms and shivered. It was so very cold, though.
Snow accumulated quickly and I continued walking, my shoes vanishing beneath white between steps. I followed what I perceived was a pathway through the trees, shuddering as the freezing air licked the back of my neck, sending a chill up my spine. I popped my jacket collar up and pulled the flaps of my coat closed.
Large tufts of cottony snow blew past, reducing visibility.
The place started looking less and less like a creative haven and more like—
I heard the unmistakable sound of a girl crying.
“Kathera?”
Cold air nipped at my cheeks and I lowered my face to shield it with my collar. That’s when my gaze fell upon a trail of small footprints dotting the snow. I followed them, clutching tightly to my coat as the frigid breeze battered me and made my fingers tingle. The footprints led me to a massive old tree, where they winded around to the other side and brought me face to face with a small, slender figure sobbing on the ground.
Her knees were to her chest and her face against them. She wore a dingy, tattered white dress with bare feet poking out from beneath the shredded lace hem, highlighted with the beginning shades of frostbite. Her faded brassy-red hair was flecked with large snowflakes and the curls appeared frozen against the back of her dress as she heaved distressed breaths.
A squeezing, nauseating heaviness pooled in my stomach as I bent to touch her on the shoulder. She gasped and looked up at me fearfully.
There was no mistaking her face—those pale blue eyes.
Centuries after her death, a perfect image of a sixteen-year-old Kathryn moved and breathed before me, trapped in some remote place in Kathera’s memory.
But she had changed.
Her smooth, youthful complexion had lost much of its color and the corpse-like tones of her flesh were reminiscent of my own unflattering condition. Pale, gray-blue undertones emphasized the deep inset curves of her malnourished body and face, and darkened veins were faintly visible through her thin, fragile skin.
“Matthaya?” she spoke through papery lips, in the Irish accented voice I had not heard in several hundred years.
The roundness of her cheeks had sunken into sharp curves of flesh clinging to bone. She reached out to me with a frail hand and a grave look of sadness welling in her ey
es.
“I am sorry, Matthaya,” she uttered, her hand shaking as she strained to reach for me with emaciated arms discolored by old, yellowing bruises. I came down beside her on the ground and swiftly took her hand into mine. It was cold as ice and ghostly in comparison to my own.
“I-I tried to stop him,” she muttered through a stream of tears. “I was not strong enough, but I tried.”
“I am here now,” I whispered calmly, and then reached my other hand up around to the back of her head to grasp her gently and pull her close to my chest.
She plummeted against me and her heartbeat quickened as she trembled, her tears nearly freezing against my shirt as I embraced her. Each quivering inhalation sent a ripple of pain through my own body that I had not felt in ages. There was a squeezing sensation in my chest, and it was as if my heart hurt just to hold her.
“Tell me what happened,” I spoke softly.
She coughed on congestion and tears and then sat up just enough to wipe her face with her thin, child-like hands. The sickness inside me intensified as I took in her wretched condition.
“Can you still love me?” she asked, heaving short, sharp breaths.
I lifted a hand to her face and cupped her delicate, ashen cheek in my palm. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.
Kathryn overlaid her fingers on mine and pressed against me as she closed her eyes. “Can you still love me now that…” she shuddered again and looked me in the eye, “another man has ruined me?”
With cold air pounding against me and my heart throbbing with distress, it took me a moment to understand what she had said. I had been Kathryn’s first love, and she mine.
She couldn’t have meant someone from our time.
No.
She must have meant Derek.
“Did he touch you?” I clenched my teeth and the words came out as a growl.
She whimpered and shrank away from me.
“I am sorry,” I said, trying to calm her. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
She gazed up at me, worried.
And then I remembered her question and promptly answered, “Yes. Yes, I can and will love you still.”
