Untamed: A Beautiful Nightmare Story

by L. C. Son

  “I just want to make sure she is okay before we depart,” Dalcour answers, his voice is softer as he now cups my chin in his palm.

  “Where are you going?” I whisper my words while continuing to force my eyes apart. The thought of Dalcour leaving me is upsetting.

  “There, there, young one. Don’t trouble yourself with worry. I’m not going anywhere until I see you are okay.”

  Finally, my eyes part wide, and I see Dalcour, Armando and DeLuca hovering over me. Looking around I notice I’m back in a large bed but it’s not the same room Chalmette and I were once in. “Where are we?” I say, pushing up on my elbows, trying to take in my surroundings.

  “Why beloved, we’re in New Orleans,” Dalcour answers, now standing up from my bedside.

  “But how? When?”

  “Tsk-tsk,” Armando begins, taking heavy and hard steps toward me. “Now don’t you trouble yourself with such things. All you need to know is that you are safe.” Placing a cool towel on my forehead, Armando pushes a few pillows behind me, propping me up on the bed. “Take a sip,” he says, offering me a glass of water.

  “Can I drink this?” I ask, looking up at Dalcour. My eyes trail his forearm as I recount memories of the tantalizing taste of his blood. Nodding his head, Dalcour smiles as Armando lifts the glass to my mouth. Drinking the cool water, I feel the pacing of my heart quiet from the frenzy upon my awakening to a normal rhythm.

  “Now doesn’t that feel better,” Armando says, taking his handkerchief to blot the corners of my mouth. I only nod in agreement and try to force a small smile while keeping my eyes on Dalcour’s now shifty posture.

  “Are you sure you feel well, Red?” DeLuca asks, concern marring between the inverted lines of his brow.

  “I’m fine, DeLuca. I promise,” I answer quietly, still keeping my gaze fixed on Dalcour as he saunters across the wooden floor. “And you, Lord Marchand?”

  Turning to me, he smiles and waves his hand in the air, dismissively. “I am not the topic of discussion. Are you certain you feel well? You took quite a spell. Besides, I’ve never known anyone to take such a slumber after commencing the sire bond.”

  “How long was I sleep?”

  “Two days, poppet! Two whole days! From the time Lord Marchand brought you back from the wells until we arrived here in New Orleans.” While DeLuca’s sentiment surprises me, I am still worried about the uneasy scowl now etched on Dalcour’s face. “Did you hear me, Chartreuse? Two days!”

  “No need to shout, DeLuca!” I quietly bite back. “My head is throbbing. But I am thankful to now be on the other end of things. At least we’ve gotten the hard part over.”

  Armando lets out a shrilling chortle, cupping his hands at his mouth. Dalcour quickly whips his head over his shoulder, giving Armando a rebuking glare, but Armando casually scrunches his shoulders as he exits the room.

  “Perhaps you should leave too,” Dalcour says, now turning to DeLuca. Huffing in reply, DeLuca looks over Dalcour’s shoulders at me, waiting for consent.

  “I’m fine, DeLuca. I promise. Thanks for bothering enough to care.”

  “I’ll always bother you at least a little, Red,” DeLuca answers with a caring smile. “I will be back to check on you.” Before waiting for a reply, DeLuca darts a quick glance toward Dalcour, turning quickly on his heel and leaves.

  “Now, young one, please tell me truthfully—are you well?” Dalcour asks once more, concern filling the void between his eyes.

  “Yes, my lord. Truthfully. I mean, I am quite tired—and a little hungry, but I guess that is to be expected after being turned. Right?”

  “That’s just it, Chartreuse. I did not turn you. You are not yet vampire.”

  “What! But I—I thought—didn’t we—didn’t I—”

  “Now, now, calm yourself, my dear Chartreuse,” Dalcour gently adds, coming back to my bedside.

  “I know this can’t all be a dream! I drank blood! I heard shrieking! And wolves—I heard them too! And the young vampire girl—and the couple! And the phan—”

  “Listen, please! Yes all those things happened, young one,” Dalcour says, with his palm now at my mouth. While I’m still up in arms about it all, a part of me is thankful he stopped me short of sharing my encounter with the phantoms.

  Slowly, I slide his hand away from my mouth and a jolting current blazes my finger at his touch. Looking down at me, a small smile curls at the corner of Dalcour’s mouth and he squeezes our clasped hands together, resting it at my side.

  “And that right there is a sign of our connection. My Altrinion blood now flows through your veins.”

  “But I thought you just said—”

  “If you had let me finish, I would have told you that we began the siring, but I have not yet turned you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, to be perfectly honest, you are my first sireling. As such, I wanted to be sure I did it right. You took a little more from me than what is required which put you on quite a binge. I suppose you can liken it to a drunken stupor of sorts. Thankfully, your heart did not fail. So I knew you’d be fine in a matter of time.”

  “Okay, I suppose that makes sense. But why didn’t you turn me while I was sleeping?”

  “It doesn’t quite work that way—at least not for the sire bonding to manifest. You must give consent to the bonding in every way. If not, you’d be no different than a scourge.” Dalcour’s intense and dark gaze sets into mine as he searches my face for understanding.

  “Oh, I suppose that makes sense. So when do I turn?” My eyes fall as I ask, fearful Dalcour’s intentions have changed and the desire I had to protect myself is now put on pause.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Since you’ve now taken my blood, you’ll have all the advantages of a supernatural and none of the disadvantages. No bloodlust. No rage. Just heightened senses, some speed, and enhanced strength.”

  Looking up at him through my unusually thickened lashes, my interest is piqued. “Really?” I can’t help the lilt of excitement bubbling through me.

  “Well, it’s only temporary,” he answers.

  “Oh.” My excitement falls to the pit of my gut.

  “That is, until I return. Once I do, we shall complete your transition.”

  Again, my excitement builds inside me and a most unlady-like shout erupts through me and I toss my arms around his neck, pulling him into my embrace. While my behavior is surprising even for me, it feels the most appropriate response I can garner.

  Working to free himself from my hold, Dalcour laughs heartily, and smiles as he holds my hands, resting them on his knee. “Well, I’m glad you are delighted!” He laughs once more.

  “Wait—wait, what do you mean when you return?” I question, leaning back into the bouquet of pillows at my back, searching his face. “Where are you going, my lord?”

  “No worries, young one, I will not be long at all,” he replies, quickly rising up from my side. “I have some business to tend to in Lexington, but I’ll return in a few weeks. I promise to be back before the power of the sire bond fades. Although I am not worried. I should return short of thirty days. When I do, we’ll make our way straight to the wells and begin your transition to become supernatural.”

  “But wait, my lord, are you leaving me? Here? Alone? And with all this new power?” I reply, rising to my knees as swirling golden rays illumine through my fingertips.

  “Ah, yes, your little illumination should fade in a few short days,” Dalcour begins with a small chuckle. “Stay close to the mansion. Titan will keep an eye on you. He’s building out another part of the taming wells as we speak. I have instructed him to look after you while I am away.”

  “Titan? You’re leaving me here with him? I’d rather have Armando look after me, my lord,” I say, sulking back into the bed, resting my bottom on my feet.

  “Oh and here I thought you fancied Titan! Well, no worries, he’s used to working wi
th new supernaturals of all breeds.” Dalcour smiles wide, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leans against a large wooden armoire. “Oh and I mustn’t forget to mention I had Greta pick out a few things for you. You’ll find quite an assortment in the armoire and chest of drawers. Of course, if you need to go into town to get more fabrics, Greta will be more than happy to accommodate you.”

  “Well, I’m not sure whoever Greta is, but usually DeLuca goes with me to fetch fabrics and such. Even still, I’m sure I can manage.”

  “Hmm—I see I still have quite a few holes to fill. My apologies. Greta is the governess for my estate here in New Orleans. She is an invaluable resource and even though she is human, knows the supernatural world very well. And well, since I’ll be taking Master DeLuca with me on my travels, both Greta and Titan will keep watch over you. Not that they will need to do much since—”

  “Wait! What! You’re taking DeLuca where? Why?”

  “My, my, do calm yourself, young one. No need to get huffy. I am still a man of color in the south and DeLuca will serve as my covering, if you will, should suspicions rise. Particularly in cases where tapping into my supernaturality would cause undue attention.”

  “But I’ll be all alone,” I mutter under my breath, falling deeper into the pillows at my back.

  Before I can blink, Dalcour is beside me in an instant. Lifting my now lowered chin to meet his dancing crimson eyes, he smiles once more and says, “No, my lovely ward, you will never be alone again.” His voice is gentle while his smile stretches from ear to ear as pools of water thicken in the corners of my eyes. “With the power of our bond and the stream of the Altrinion force now flowing through your veins, you’ll feel my presence with you—always.”

  Pulling me into his embrace, tears rush from my eyes as I sob on his shoulder. In the few moments since my awakening I’ve gone from one high emotion to the next. Even now, I am overcome with a wrought and wild fervor I’ve never felt before.

  And I love it!

  “I suppose I understand, my lord,” I whisper back.

  “It’s quite all right, young one. I promise you.”

  “But do you think it wise for me to be alone? So soon?”

  “Yes, I know it’s soon and for that I do apologize. I had hoped we’d have more time together. But as you witnessed last night, things in the supernatural community are tenuous. The Skull wolves attacking us were no accident. Since we don’t have my brother’s machinations to blame, I can only assume the Changeling witches are up to their normal predilections. Only they have been known to control the savagery of the Skull.”

  Looking up at Dalcour’s now crestfallen face, a stone-like force drops to the pit of my stomach. “My lord? Skull? Changeling? I don’t understand,” I mutter, fearful of his response.

  “I know you still have much to learn, and I promise I will teach you all I can when I return. But I’ll not have you ignorant of the wretchedness that comes with this new world. The Skull are packless wolves—void of a leader or an alpha. They move in herds, attacking and killing all that come in their path. However, they do not hunt—at least not in a coordinated effort. If wolves are found devoid an alpha and eventually fall under a Skull curse, no longer can they shift into a mortal. They are trapped in their deformed wolf state, doomed to scavenge the earth. Only a Changeling of great power can control a Skull herd. Changelings, on the other hand, are the first non-earthbound supernatural entities of this world. Until their great fall, they had dominion over the animals of the earth. Since their descent, they practice only the darkest of power, possessing unsuspecting mortals and bending them to their will. For years, little has been heard of them until now.”

  “Until now?” I question, as memories of my encounter with the wraith-like creatures fill my mind.

  “While I don’t typically lay the desolation of humanity at the feet of the supernatural world, many believe it is the dark power of the Changelings fueling the dissent of men.”

  “How so?” Fear chokes the bile in my throat, and I am sick inside. Still, I work hard to stifle my feelings. Thankfully, Dalcour’s preoccupied thoughts keep him from discerning my angst.

  Biting his lip as he tosses his head up toward the ceiling and circling a wide woven rug at the edge of my bed, Dalcour heaves a sigh and continues, “As they consider themselves the first and true original beings of this world, they care not for Altrinions or humans. Since the beginning, they’ve been at the very core of every war and act of incivility of this broken world. Sure humanity has its own sins to answer for, but I have no doubt the witchcraft of the Changelings has long been at work.”

  Dalcour’s eyes are distant as he speaks and the silence between us becomes deafening. His words trouble me. As much as I want to tell him of my encounter with the otherworldly creatures, I know I cannot. Not only will he be disappointed in me for falling to the wiles of the Changelings, but I know for certain he will not complete my turning.

  And I will not let anything take that away from me.

  Not even Dalcour Marchand or the witchery of the Changelings will stand in my way.

  Sauntering across the wooden floor, Dalcour clears his throat, thrusting his hands in his pockets and forces a small smile. “Look, young one, I don’t want you to worry about wretched Changelings or Skull wolves. For that reason, we shall not sully the mood by any further thought of the deplorable faction of the supernatural. Rather, this is to be a happy time for you!” Dalcour’s voice is lighter and more airy than I’ve ever heard, and I can tell he is forcing himself from the darker hold of his lingering thoughts.

  “A happy time?” I repeat, watching his eyes dance again and I can’t help wondering what musings dawdle behind his crimson irises.

  “Why of course!” Dalcour says brightly with a wide smile that meets his eyes as he makes his way back to my side. “For the first time in your beautiful young life you’ll only have yourself to worry about. Take this time to get to know yourself, apart from tragedy and shame. Finally. Enjoy the small indulgences of life that most take for granted. You’ll have no fear of neither man nor woman. With the Altrinion force flowing through you, you’ll have the strength and power to care for and protect yourself and none of the vices of the scourged curse of turning. So take this time, young Chartreuse and enjoy your beautiful life!”

  My beautiful life? Dalcour’s words intrigue me. To date, my life has been anything but beautiful. Nightmare yes. Beautiful absolutely not.

  “Come see,” Dalcour says in a darker tone with his hand outstretched. Placing my palm in his, he takes me from the bed, and we are quickly across the room standing in front of a large floor length mirror.

  For the first time in what seems like forever, I see myself.

  I am beautiful.

  Not that I’ve ever thought of myself as unattractive but the word beautiful has never come to mind. Looking at myself, I see a woman that is almost foreign to me. With the Altrinion force flowing through me, my skin is flawless and my curves more pronounced. Eyes like jade stone stare back at me while the wavy, fire-burnt hair resting at my shoulders frames my face, revealing a hauntingly beautiful creature.

  “Who is this woman?” I mutter as I fluff my hands through my hair, slowly trailing an outline of my hourglass form, staring in awe at my own mirror image.

  With his chest puffed with pride, Dalcour stands at my side, careful not to block my view of myself. “I now introduce you to Miss Chartreuse Grenoble. The woman who will set this world ablaze.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the first time in my memory, I am alone.

  Not counting the moments I spent in my room before I was required to entertain the tipsy tippers of the saloon or the brief space of solace I spent putting ports of rum in the back closet, I am truly alone.

  No friends. No family. Just me.

  Watching both Dalcour and DeLuca take their leave from the estate, I now realize this is the first time in my life where I am not require
d to keep watch of a younger sibling, or thwart unwanted advances. A first in my recollection indeed.

  Even knowing Armando is also gone with Dalcour and DeLuca is somewhat unsettling. For as brief a time as it has been, I’d grown accustomed to his snippy retort and uptight persona. Although, it was his farewell kiss and lingering embrace that assures me, I’ll likely not see him again. Neither he nor Dalcour told me so, but for as many as I’ve had in my short life, I am no stranger to the finality accompanying a parting farewell.

  Still, it is probably the way both DeLuca and I shared our goodbyes that grieves me most.

  Walking in on Dalcour inquiring whether the two of us were romantically involved and hearing DeLuca declare a most emphatic denial, crushed my heart in two. While we never shared anything more than a congenial hug, DeLuca refuted any longing of his heart toward me as though he were asked to kiss a frog.

  To salt the wound, the ghastly look on his face when he saw me at the threshold of the parlor sent a desolation through my soul I have known too well. In fact, it is a pain I should never hope to endure again.

  It is quite beyond reason why Sincade DeLuca’s negation of affection toward me pains me so, but it makes me actually thankful Dalcour has taken my little Romani friend with him.

  I need this time for myself!

  Sadly, our parting at their leave was sullen. There were no warm gestures, save my embrace with Armando and Dalcour’s quick introductions of me to the house governess, Greta. Before I had a moment to process it all they were gone.

  And here I stand, gazing out the large Palladian window at the top of the double staircase, looking out to a large and overgrown flower garden, I take in the grandeur that is New Orleans.

  I was just a child the last time I was here, but the memories, both fond and frightening, still hold my heart.

  A lone tear falls to my face as thoughts of my past and present state torment my soul. As haunting recollections of my childhood may be none can compare to whatever barter I made with the Changelings that is sure to be my doom.