Angel's Messiah (37 page)

He leaned down and licked her neck, from collarbone to earlobe, then stuck his tongue in her ear. No response. He bit her earlobe and let the blood trickle from his mouth, onto her neck. His hands wandered over her body, pinching, slapping, kneading and caressing. Still, he could elicit nothing from her, not even the slightest twitch.

“Fight back,” Drake yelled, shaking her like a rag doll. “You’ve never been one to give up. Why must you torture all those who love you?”

He tore at her jeans, ripping them along the seams and exposing her hips and black, lacy lingerie.

“At least the angel knows what to dress you in,” Drake said appreciatively.

He slid down until his mouth was level with her hip and placed their bound hands under the small of her back, lifting her slightly. When he was young to the world of immortals, Drake had been told tales of vampires that had suffered from maladies of the mind, and how his elders — all long since dead — had discovered through trial and error that the area above the hip was extremely sensitive. A deep and savage bite was sometimes known to pierce through the fog of the mind. He had never seen a vampire suffer from such a sickness, yet it would have been something akin to what Helena was suffering from. As some vampires are prone to boasting and exaggeration, he’d thought the tales were just that, tales. Perhaps there was more to them than he realised.

He kissed Helena’s hip and laughed. Yes, through his young eyes they would have been boastful stories and nothing more, yet if there was one thing he had learned over the aeons, it was that anything
is
possible.

Drake rested his free hand on Helena’s stomach, feeling it rise and fall ever so slightly, and enjoying the heat of her skin. He kissed the area just above her hip, then bit down savagely into the flesh until his teeth raked the bone, and drank deeply. Helena’s back arched and her arms and legs began to shake. A scream was ripped from her throat and she knocked Drake sideways with her arm, tearing his mouth from her flesh. She was on him in a flash, biting into his neck and drinking greedily. She’d forgotten how sweet the taste of blood could be. In the back of her mind she registered whose blood it was — the sweetest of the sweet — yet in her rage she didn’t care.

“Helena,” Drake called out softly. “Helena, you’re killing me.”

Helena didn’t listen. She kept drinking.

“The most important piece of information of all, that when the fog is pierced a rage takes its place,” Drake groaned, “and the elders forget to mention it. How typical.”

Drake could feel himself weakening and Helena was showing no sign of letting up. If he didn’t do something very soon she would kill him. He reached for her free hand and pulled it to his lips. His teeth latched onto her wrist and her body stiffened in response. He thought he heard a soft moan. In his weakened state he wasn’t sure if it had issued from him or her.

He drank enough to sustain himself while Helena worked through her rage. Over the hours she slowed down, not drinking as greedily as she first had, until Drake was drinking more than she was, replacing what had been taken from him. And then it was over, as quickly as it had begun.

Helena sat up, still on Drake, and blinked her eyes a few times, trying to remember what had happened and why she was there, tethered to Drake. The last thing she remembered was Dallas Ringewald. How had she gotten from there to here, with Drake of all people? She could still taste his blood in her mouth.

Drake smiled, and with a wicked gleam in his eyes offered her his wrist. She smacked it away and pulled at the bindings around their wrists until they were free. She rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed. The fact that her clothes were torn was not lost on her. She wondered if she had been about to do something with Drake that she would have regretted later.

“I’m offering my life freely this time, Helena.” He sat up next to her and held his wrist near her lips. “Take it if you wish.”

“Go away, Drake,” Helena said, her voice flat. “I don’t want your blood
or
your life. I’m already responsible for my own daughter’s death. I don’t wish to be responsible for your life as well.”

Drake grabbed her arms and twisted her body to face him. Was this the malady that she has been suffering from, the belief she was responsible for Gina’s death?

“How can you be responsible for Gina’s death?” Drake asked, truly astounded she would think as much.

“The man behind it all, I set him on his path of destruction when I was still mortal. My actions back then, or rather my lack of action, started all of this. I
killed
my own baby.”

Helena began to wail and the sound pierced through Drake, like a hot knife. It caused agonising pain his head. He shook her to try and make her stop. The noise only got louder. He slapped her face and she gasped before continuing with the wail.

Drake could not die now, not knowing Helena thought she was responsible for Gina’s death, but the noise was unbearable. If she did not tell Danizriel the reason for her affliction he would have to. There was always the possibility she would slip again. The angel would be able to help her now the root of the problem had been identified. Drake needed to stay alive to see this through.

“Danizriel,” he called out. “Take her away before the pain kills me. I’ve already tempted fate once tonight. I’ll not be so lucky again.”

Danny arrived in Drake’s chambers to a horrid gut-wrenching sound and realised it was coming from Helena. He placed the heel of his palm on her forehead and a hand over her heart. He focused all of his thoughts on taking away her pain, and screamed at the anguish that flowed into his body.

Danny’s body slumped to the floor and Helena sat on the bed sobbing softly.

“I can see now why she believed the children must die,” Danny muttered between ragged breaths. “I can see now that she blames herself for everything.”

Drake slid off the bed to sit on the floor. His head was still pounding from the noise that had penetrated every fibre of his being, trying to tear him apart.

“How could she know the past would come back to haunt her?” Drake asked.

“I couldn’t,” Helena whispered. Both men turned to look up at her, “but that doesn’t make it any easier. You shouldn’t have brought me back. You should have left me where I was.”

The Book of Helena Part IV

28.
Resurrection

I returned with Danny to Eden, not a zombie this time, yet not fully restored. I would never be able to forgive myself for Gina’s death. I was sulky and brooding, and spent much of my time in the garden pulling petals off daisies.

I lay on my stomach, on the soft grass, propped up on my elbows and plucked at the flowers.

Forgive me, forgive me not, forgive me, forgive me not.

Within hours I was surrounded by a blanket of petals. The number of flowers I’d picked indicated they were in favour of forgiveness, but I was not.

Danny sat down beside me, picked up a handful of petals and let them fall from his hand to drift some distance away on the light breeze.

“Would you like to hear some of the things I tried, to bring you around?” he asked. “It irks me no end that it took a vampire to return you to me.”

I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t really care.

“I danced the flamenco …”

I turned to look at him. He wasn’t lying, I knew that, but I’d never danced the flamenco with him. Where did
that
come from? He’d found something to catch my attention and I silently cursed him for using my curiosity against me.

“Really?” I asked. “When did you learn that dance?”

“While Gina was still with us. The two of you spent so much time together, and you both loved dancing so. I wanted to surprise you both by learning a new dance.”

Her name still made me ache.

“And you never had the chance to show us because Gina’s time was up,” I replied dryly.

“But I did show you,” Danny said. “I’ll dance it again for you, if you wish me to.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Another time perhaps.”

“I also sang to you.”

“Was it any good?” I asked.

“The animals and birds seemed to think so.”

“I’ll bet it wasn’t any of the songs I listen to,” I said.

Danny chuckled, glad to have me talking to him. It was a start. He had all of eternity to help repair the damage.

“No, it wasn’t,” he said. “I don’t think my voice is suited to those songs.”

“What else did you do?” I asked.

“A gave you a field of freesias for as far as the eye could see,” he said wistfully, “and you blanketed them in snow.”

“Snow,” I snorted. “I don’t even like the stuff.”

“That makes perfect sense then,” Danny replied. “You were smothering everything that gave you pleasure. Why not replace it with something you dislike?”

“I guess.”

“When I did those
things
to you,” Danny whispered, picking up more petals and letting them drift away, “before you left, you said you’d forgiven yourself …”

“That was before I knew of the events that led to Gina’s death,” I sighed.

“You’re not to blame,” Danny said. “Mortals choose their own paths.”

“
I
chose the path that helped Dallas Ringewald choose his path. How can you say I’m not to blame?”

“Because he had more than one path to choose from,” Danny said angrily. “You did not
force
him to take that path.”

“This is one topic we’re not going to agree on, Danny. Let it rest.”

Danny lay down next to me and kissed my cheek. “I only want you to be happy again, Helena.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know.”

“Do you want to go somewhere or do something? Perhaps hunt werewolf?”

I tapped my hands restlessly on the grass. “No, I’m not hungry.”

Danny flipped himself around and rested his head in the small of my back, looking up at the sky.

Little Mother, what ails you?

“Did you say something?” I asked.

“No,” Danny replied.

Little Mother, why are you moping about?

Great, now I was hearing Gina’s voice in my head. I smacked my forehead, trying to drive the sound of her voice out of my head.

Little Mother, don’t do that.

Smack!

Danny lifted his head. “What are you doing?”

“Just trying to get this voice out of my head,” I replied.

Little Mother, I’m still here,
the voice giggled.

“What voice?” Danny asked.

“Gina’s.”

“Does she talk to you often?”

“No. Don’t be silly,” I snorted, “she’s dead. It’s like when I heard your voice after you died. It’s all in my head.”

Little Mother, look for the rainbow.

Smack!

“Helena,
please
stop hitting yourself. Let the voice talk. It’s probably your mind’s way of coping. Let it do what it must.”

“Uh-huh! Hearing voices in your head is
normal
,” I said sarcastically. “Everybody hears voices in their head.”

Danny sat up and rolled me over into his lap, laughing. He kissed my neck and I shivered. It was such an impulsive action and caught me off guard.

“Who knows
what
is normal for you,” he laughed.

The voice had stopped for the moment.

“Don’t be mean,” I said, smacking his leg. “If you want to help, keep distracting me.”

He kissed my shoulder and nibbled on my ear.

Little Mother, can’t you keep your mind on other things for five minutes,
the voice giggled.

“Yes I can,” I called out.

“You can what?” Danny asked.

“Damn, I thought the voice had quietened down. So much for distracting me,” I sighed.

“What is the voice saying?”

“Oh, things like asking what ails me, why I’m moping about, not to smack my head, to look for the rainbow, and to keep my mind out of the gutter for five minutes.”

Little Mother, I did not tell you to keep your mind out of the gutter.

“Fine,” I said, “it was about keeping my mind on other things for five minutes, not keeping my mind out of the gutter.”

“You’re really hearing her voice?” Danny asked, amazed.

“Yes, though it only started today.”

“Ask her if she’s happy,” Danny said.

“Danny, it’s all in my —”

Little Mother, tell Father I am happy, but would be happier still if you weren’t so sad.

“I will not,” I said grumpily.

Then I shall have to say if for myself,
the voice said.

I was confused. Was the voice in my head going to try and project itself onto Danny? I was about to ask Danny a question when I was blinded by a myriad of colours — a beautiful rainbow — that ended where we lay.