Eternally Bound

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Tears entered her eyes. No one would want her after this. She was sister to a murderer. She would spend the rest of her days at Eastwich Manor as an unloved, unwanted spinster. As she glanced at the stone walls of Eastwich, they did not seem so lovely to her anymore, or the house so large and welcoming and elegant. It now looked like a prison.

  “Tatiana.” Henry shook her. “Are you listening to me?”

  Tatiana hadn’t been listening. Her mind had been frantically racing until she felt dizzy. Seeing she wasn’t going to scream, Henry dropped his hand from her face, leaving her cheek cold as the breeze hit the blood. With an insistent tug, he pulled her away from the front steps.

  “Hurry,” Henry ordered, keeping her arm tight as he ran her around the side of the house. “We can’t let Thomas see us. If he knew what we did to his sister—”

  “Alice?” Tatiana looked at Henry with renewed horror. She tried to stop, but his hand wouldn’t let her. The matter and blood covering him belonged to her maid, Alice? Alice with the golden ringlet curls so like her brother Thomas? Alice with the laughing blue eyes who always teased her awake in the morning? Alice who had played with her endlessly on this very lawn since they were children?

  “We can’t let him find out what we have done,” Henry insisted, running faster now that they were on the side lawn. “You know Thomas has a violent temper.”

  “We?” Tatiana squeaked, her voice unable to sound any louder. Her world spun and crashed with each surreal step he forced her to take.

  Her legs stretched over the thick cushioned lawn, nearing the limits of her gown. The petticoats became heavier, tangling around her legs. Her corset was too unyielding against her lungs, making breathing hard. Her heart raced as he yanked her through the night. A slipper fell from her foot, but they did not stop. The full three courses of dinner, plus the entremets and dessert, waged a vicious war in her tight stomach. She would’ve fainted, if not for Henry’s insistent pull making her continue.

  “Henry,” she begged, her voice hoarse as she gulped for air. Her narrowed eyes tried to see through the shadows. The moon wasn’t full and bright, so it offered little help.

  Hearing her plea, Henry slowed, leading her into the shade of a large oak on the far side of the property.

  “I...can...not...breathe.” She dropped her hand, clutching at her stomach, trying to pull her corset to loosen it by small degrees. It didn’t do any good. The gown was fitted too tightly. “Ladies...do not...run.”

  Henry said nothing. He looked into the distance, standing silent and still. His hand trembled. Suddenly, she realized how scared her brother really was.

  After a moment had passed with only her heavy breathing sounding between them, she again straightened and threw back her shoulders. Turning to her brother, she saw that he didn’t even look at her. Fearful, she demanded, “Please tell me this is a prank, Henry. Please, tell me you didn’t hurt Alice. Where is she? Is she hiding in the trees? Is she to jump out and scare me? Is that why we wait?”

  Henry looked stunned by her words. Slowly, he looked down the front of his frock coat and flicked wearily at a chuck that clung to him. Tatiana flinched as it landed unintentionally on her gown. Looking herself over, she saw that the dress was ruined.

  “We must go,” Henry stated, sniffing. He again reached for her, grabbing her arm.

  “Where are you taking me?” Tatiana whimpered, scared of her brother. She never knew him capable of hurting anyone. Though, if the truth be told, she didn’t know him at all. They’d been closer as young children, but he’d been away for so long, first to a school at Cambridge and then his grand tour. Now she hardly ever spoke to him, except in dutiful letters her father made her write. “What’s happening?”

  “I need you to take care of it,” Henry said, matter-of-factly, like a Lord directing his servants.

  “Take care of what, Henry?” Tears filled her eyes, and the long line of her mouth stretched back, pulling against her teeth.

  “I need you to clean it. You’re a woman, surely you know how.” Henry dragged her through the shrubs. The thorns tore at her skin, scratching her, ripping her delicate evening gown beyond repair. “No one can find out about this.”

  “I’m not a servant…” she began, only to be cut off by his vicious jerk and hard glare.

  “You will do as I say if you value your station in life.” His wild eyes grew all the more desperate. “Would you see our family ruined for the sake of a maid? Would you see me imprisoned? Father so ashamed he’d be forced to do himself in? You abandoned, turned out on the streets to fend for yourself as an unfortunate?”

  “But I did not do anything…that,” Tatiana protested, her voice growing somewhat louder.

  Henry growled, raising his fist as if to hit her. He hesitated, and she knew he couldn’t strike. Lowering his trembling hand, he gathered her forward into his embrace and lovingly kissed her forehead.

  “Please, help me, Tatiana,” Henry whispered into her dark hair. He rubbed his cheek reverently over her silky locks, dislodging the flowers adorning them. “It’s too late to take back. I don’t know what to do. I need you. You were always the practical one, so smart. Please, Tatiana, don’t abandon me now when I need you most.”

  Something snapped in Tatiana’s brain at his plea for help. The shaking in her limbs subsided and her heart slowed. Her world became a dazed dream. She blinked, steadying her swirling vision. She ignored the smell of blood filling her nose. She knew her brother was right. She had to protect her family.

  Taking a deep, calm breath, she silently nodded. Henry was honorable most days, and this indiscretion was just an unfortunately bad day. It was too late to take it back. She wouldn’t see her family ruined by the death of a mere servant girl. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She wasn’t going to do anything wrong, not really. She was just helping her brother clean up a mess, a minor indiscretion. All fine gentlemen were allowed their little indiscretions.

  “Show me, Henry,” she answered, her tone flat and dutiful. “Let me see what it is you have done.”

  Chapter Two

  Dark eyes pierced effortlessly through the shadows of the dense trees. The lone figure stayed silent in the darkness, watching the pair pass close by him. Curiosity caused the old vampire to stop and look at the brother and sister as they entered the forest. He’d smelled the carnage of blood easily as he whisked his way home.

  His sensitive ears detected their whispered words without difficulty, just as his eyes saw every detail of their forms. The girl was slender, new into her womanhood. Her features appeared as if they had only just emerged from the chubbiness of youth, so fresh was her complexion even if crimson streaks of blood marred it, so unmarked by mortal time. Her face was pale from her late night tryst into the forest, but he could tell it would be the shade of peaches once her color returned. Her dark green eyes could mesmerize any man.

  The man, Henry, was taller, slender in such a way that was popular with mortal men of this era. He carried himself with an air of importance, but the vampire could smell his fear—and not just fear of this night, but of all nights, all things. He was a timid creature, frail, and a failure. He reeked of implausible ideas and unrealized dreams. He was a drifter, a man who would float through his life on his family’s money. This was a man who would never accomplish anything of importance. The blood within Henry’s veins would taste just as insipid as the man himself. The vampire had no interest in the man, content to let Henry have his half-existence.

  However, the woman was a different matter altogether. She was definitely the more interesting of the two. The vampire turned his attention back to her. Her eyes were glazed with an eerie light. Closing his eyes, he tried to read the woman’s thoughts, hear her secrets. Her mind was blank, numb. This interested him. She agreed to help her brother, but she did not have the raging, incoherent thoughts of a killer. On the other hand, her mind did not drown in cynicisms as one used to witnessing such dire acts, as was the case with the bobbies in Lo
ndon. She was a pampered girl, spoiled no doubt by the look of her lavish gown, and yet here she was facing what most men couldn’t stomach.

  The vampire frowned, moving stealthily to walk behind the brother and sister, knowing they led the way through the trees to an abandoned cottage. The man hurried, desperate to run from the mess he had made, eager to have the woman—to have anyone—take care of it for him. The mortals’ feet crunched lightly on the fallen twigs and leaves of the forest floor. The woman stumbled, her foot left only to the protection of a tattered stocking. He could smell the blood on her foot as she walked, the temptingly sweet scent stirring up from her. She didn’t make a sound.

  It was a short walk to the cottage. The vampire kept himself hidden from the siblings with the will of his mind. He concentrated, hearing the heartbeat inside the woman’s chest. He’d just eaten and yet he had the urge to feed again. The need was overwhelming. Her blood would be pleasant against his tongue, strong, pure, vigorous, erotic. It would fill him with energy and life. He smelled its intoxicating potency and wasn’t disappointed. He wanted her. He wanted to drink from her slender neck, her ample breasts, her opened thighs. It had been too long since his body had been quickened by the smell of his food.

  The vampire breathed deeply of her scent, moving to whisk by her neck. He felt chills rise on her flesh as he passed by. She sensed his nearness. He let her.

  Tatiana shivered, feeling as if something brushed by her neck. She swatted her skin, jumping nervously as she looked around the dark forest. Henry turned to glare at the noise she made. She looked at her brother. “Did you hear that?”

  “It’s nothing, just the wind,” Henry said, though he looked around to see if she was right.

  “Father will worry if we’re gone too long,” Tatiana said.

  “No. He’s probably asleep.”

  “The servants—” She tried not to look at Henry’s frock coat or his face.

  “Don’t care what we do,” Henry interrupted. He again grabbed her arm. But, instead of leading her forward, this time, he pushed her in front of him. “In there.”

  “I can’t see,” she whispered, growing weak again.

  “There is a lantern by the door,” Henry whispered, not going to help her. He turned his back on her as if unable to watch.

  “Henry,” Tatiana whined. “You’re not going to leave me here, are you? Please, I don’t want to be alone.”

  “One of us should go back. I need to get cleaned off. I’ll come back for you,” Henry said.

  “Henry?”

  “Just get it taken care of, Tatiana,” Henry ordered, stopping only long enough to whisper hastily, “I’ll come back to get you. I’ll bring a change of clothes. We’ll have to burn your gown.”

  “Henry, wait.” She made a move to reach for him, but he hurried away. To herself, she added, “Please, Henry, don’t leave me here alone.”

  Tatiana looked around the forest. It seemed so much more ominous now that Henry was gone. Taking a deep breath, she slowly moved toward the cottage door. Her feet tripped on the uneven step, and she stumbled forward against the door. It creaked open, and she smelled the same horrific odor she’d detected on Henry’s hands, only stronger.

  Tatiana reached around the inside the doorframe to look for a lantern hanging on the wall. There was nothing. Carefully, she lowered herself onto her hands and knees. Blindly, she felt inside the cottage for the lamp. Her heart hammered fiercely in her chest. Hitting a chunk of wood, she flinched and pulled back.

  “Alice?” Tatiana called softly, peering into the dark as she again felt around inside the door for a lamp. She shivered, feeling so alone and deathly afraid. She was forced to crawl forward into the darkness, searching the floor. “Alice, can you hear me?”

  The vampire stood back, behind Tatiana, watching. He heard her winded breath, felt her thudding heart. Her bravery surprised him, pleased him in some small way. He was close enough that, if he wanted, he could rush forward and grab her up into his embrace. He could protect her, help her, comfort her, kill her. Instead, he held back, just watching to see what would happen with passionless eyes.

  His gaze pierced the darkness of the cottage, seeing well the lifeless, mangled corpse that awaited her discovery. He lingered with a sick fascination to see what would happen when Tatiana discovered the maid’s body. Would her bravery falter? Would her mind slip from her forever? The corpse had been there for some time. Sniffing, the vampire would guess an hour at least. Henry must have hidden, waiting for his sister to come home. Tatiana called out again, and the vampire stepped closer, drawn to the young mortal. Alice wouldn’t be answering her call.

  Tatiana’s fingers hit upon the lantern. She grabbed it, pulling back from the dark insides of the cottage. She panted heavily, taking up the old tinderbox. Her fingers trembled as she tried to strike the flint with steel to alight the little piece of linen. A spark hit again and again, but it did not catch fire.

  The vampire took pity on the girl, raising his hand to light the lamp from behind. He waited, prepared for her to scream, to run away in fright. To his surprise, she stayed strong and did nothing.

  Tatiana gasped to see the flame, but she did not question its oddly timed appearance. Her mind was too numb, too frightened. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes tight, before looking inside the one-room cottage. The lamplight fell over the walls. It didn’t take her long to see Alice’s motionless body in the far corner. A lifeless eye stared out from the maid’s grotesque, bashed features. Her golden ringlets were strewn over her once beautiful face, and the locks bloodied until their color was barely recognizable. She could see the inside of Alice’s skull and was glad that the light from the lantern cast a harsh shadow to hide the worst of it from view. A feeling of disgust and pity overwhelmed her as she looked at the girl.

  “Alice?” she whispered, hearing the girl’s laughter clearly in her head. The drawn, pale, almost blue face wasn’t laughing now. Tatiana had to look away. Her eyes automatically fell on a long wooden post, broken in half and covered with the same substance Henry had on his frock coat. “Henry? Why?”

  “Che macello, bella mia,” came a soft hush from behind her, carried gently on the wind.

  Tatiana froze, feeling a presence emerging as if from the darkness. A chill came over her, racking her skin with tingles and goose bumps. Her body felt as if she’d been struck by lightning, flowing with tremendous energy. She couldn’t hear any footfall outside the cottage. Her ears strained, leaves rustled softly, the wind whined a lonely song. All was quiet.

  Suddenly, it was as if a hand caressed the back of her head, running fingers along her neck, so cold, yet gentle and caressing in their tenderness. Tatiana gasped, trembling violently. She didn’t dare look, hoping that whatever it was would just go away.

  “What a mess,” the wind repeated, louder, as chilled lips seemed to brush the back of her ear.

  Tatiana’s mouth fell open to scream. She didn’t recognize the voice, only that it was a man. She turned, horrified that someone would see what Henry had done. But, as she moved, her world spun out from beneath her. She felt herself falling into inviting blackness. She welcomed it, clung to it. The voice continued to move in her head, sounding as if it came from within. She couldn’t understand it, couldn’t make out what it told her and she was suddenly too tired to care.

  Chapter Three

  Tatiana’s black world drifted by in a haze so sweet it had to be a dream. She felt things as if a cloud protected her. Nothing was real. Nothing made sense, and yet she clung to the madness of her illusions. Hands, as cold as snow, lifted her up, touched her face and neck, stroked her with what felt like fingernails. They peeled back her corset, and she felt her lungs fill with air, basking in the liberating freedom.

  “La tua pelle e’ come seta, bella mia,” a voice whispered. Hands slid beneath her chemise where her corset had pressed its form into her skin. They were rubbing her smooth flesh, massaging the blood to the tingling surface, touching her in
timately. Fingers ran up between her breasts, stroking back down, feeling her, cupping and testing the weight of her breasts in cool palms. Fingers rubbed her aching nipples in tight circles. A tongue flicked the base of her throat. “Your skin is like silk.”

  She tried to open her eyes, to find a face to put with the dark voice, with the bold hands. She felt the man caressing her, his body not so cold as before, but warm and wet. His fingers glided over her flesh. All of a sudden, she knew she was naked. She didn’t care. The hands felt so good, making her ache with pleasure wherever they trailed. It was a dream, so it didn’t matter that a moan left her weak lips.

  “Tu sei bellissima,” the voice persisted in its lullaby, lingering and soft. He was washing her hair, lathering soap against her body. Fingers covered her mouth and nose as she was lowered beneath the bathwater. She wasn’t afraid. She trusted the luring melody of that voice. “You are exquisite.”

  Her eyes drifted open, seeing a fireplace of stone. It burned brightly. She closed her eyes once more. Softness brushed along her skin, the water gone. She was on a bed—soft, enveloping. A sigh left her parted lips. Her eyes drifted again. This time, she saw silk as red as blood, and she shivered. A pale hand reached for her, lifting her face as if its bearer lay next to her on the stuffed mattress. The weight of her damp hair was lifted from her cheek. The darkness closed in again.

  “A presto, il mio tesoro,” the voice whispered to her. Tatiana felt a brush against her lips and tingling sensations shot in hot waves down her body. “Very soon, my darling.”