Blood Life (34 page)

But Roman’s presence remained close, materializing into a reality that gripped her with hope. Finally in full form, standing directly behind her, he grabbed hold of her shoulders, nestling his face in her lavender-scented hair.

Bringing herself to look up again, she lingered a moment, watching his reflection in the window. He looked up to her, horror marking his face in understanding her reluctance to return his affection. “My darling,” he whispered, “what has he done to you?” His expression was that of a highly tormented man; twisted and dark, the way somebody looked when they had lost everything that was important to them—when they had lost their heart.

She lifted her arms to release his hold of her and walked away slightly. Turning to face him squarely, she glared into his sad, glassy eyes. It was difficult to reject him, even more difficult to calm her rapid pulse, her incredible hope, so she decided to fix her eyes on his chest, avoiding his eyes. “That is of little importance now, Roman,” she heard herself say, eyes still cast downward. “It is too late to rescue me, if that is what you intended. And if it is, it took you long enough. You don’t expect me to believe anything you tell me now, do you?”

The harshness of her voice pained him as well as herself as it echoed around the hollow room like a distant memory. She was overwhelmed with grief, feeling rejected and abandoned, but lost and found all at once. She could not let herself accept him with ignorance to his possible intentions, but she loved him so much her heart was tearing right down the middle.

“What intentions are those, Alethea?” he asked, reading her with ease. He stood upright, adjusting his expression to one of disdain. “How dare you judge me, or Devendra for that matter. You know nothing of the struggle we overcame to find you, nothing of what we’ve been through! It may have been miniscule compared to what you’ve had to endure, but it was enormous to us. You had only lies from a man who brutally took you from your last life!” His voice rose to a strong whisper that begged Alethea to open her eyes and see the truth which spread out like wildfire before her. “Can you not accept the fact that he made finding you a game? Taking you here, to a different time and place, Alethea, has made locating you very hard to say the least!” He frantically shoved his arms through the air, indicating their surroundings as intensely as possible. “It’s been a sick game of hide and seek that he set up for all of us to play. Inviting us to dinner is part of the game, only we have yet to find out the Fate of the evening.”

They are the dinner guests? “You love Devendra, so go to her,” Alethea said against her will. “I want no part of this life anymore, and I don’t need you!!” she cried, making no sense to even herself. She didn’t know what to believe anymore; she lost confidence in herself and her “family” long ago. Now she needed to retreat to the secret hiding place in her mind to rethink all of it. She felt, above all else, ashamed.

“Wait!” he insisted, obviously aware of the hiding place. “Don’t do this! Listen to me first; there is so little time before we must sit at the same table and dine together, unarmed and unprepared. You must understand that I have done everything in my power to find you. I have been sitting in hell, burning for you, feeling your pain and abandonment, trying to take away your pain!” He walked over and cupped his palms over Alethea’s cheeks, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. “My lover, oh, my darling Alethea,” he kissed her forehead and her nose, slowly and tenderly reaching her lips. She felt her heart stop, quivering in its placement among her other organs, waiting as if in anticipation for the next beat; she wondered if it would beat so strong that it would burst from her chest.

“No,” she resisted, weakly. Then, unable to hold the distance from him, she gave in. She wanted his touch so badly; she dreamt of it every second. She loved him too much to refuse him. And, quite honestly, she needed him.

“Oh, Alethea,” he sang in triumph, as he wrapped both of his strong arms around her, enveloping her deliciously, shattering all else, everything terrible that she had been through, in that one honest and wonderful motion. “I love you, and we will get through this, I promise.” He laughed happily, holding her tight.

Dizziness swept over her suddenly, and she fell limp in his arms. “What is it?” he asked, but for some reason she couldn’t respond. She could barely make out his face as he led her into the bathroom and held her steady as he turned on the shower. “How long since you’ve fed?” Her confused look answered the question for him as he used a pointed fingernail to make a slit across his wrist with precision. He fed the droplets of blood to Alethea. “You need your strength tonight of all nights,” he concluded. “Lokee is expecting Devendra and I to ring his doorbell soon. I need to get back outside before he finds me here.” He shook Alethea gently as she tried to focus on him. “Did my blood not help you?” Feeling the sensation of life rush through her once again, she smiled, wiping at the spilled droplets on her chin. He chuckled as she squinted at him, then at the shower.

Little by little she regained the strength to stand and bathe on her own. She allowed the water to purify her, to wash away the foulness of her captivity. Waking up fully, she started scrubbing at her body fiercely, trying to clear away Lokee’s wretched scent. The lingering smell of him made her nauseous. She wanted to remove his essence from every inch of her body. Not even noticing the fact that Roman had left the room, she continued with the compulsion to cleanse herself. This was the only thing she could do. The only thing left to relieve the ache of her possible mental breakdown. Water purifies. If only she could get clean enough, maybe she could rid of the dirtiness that clung to her skin, and even worse, to her spirit.

“Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer;

the secret of redemption lies in remembrance.”

–Richard von Weizsaecker

Forty Nine

There was a faint, patient knock at the door just as Alethea finished dressing. She blotted her lipstick, taking one last look in the mirror, before she responded. She opened the door anxiously to find Lokee smiling down at her. “Are you ready?” he asked, looking at her choice of clothing warily.

Alethea looked down at the dress, one she had chosen instead of the one Lokee had asked her to wear. She traced her hands along the form-fitting waist. “Yes,” she replied, looking back up at him. “This is one of my favorites, and I thought the burgundy woke my face up a bit more than the black you chose for me earlier.” He did not answer.

“I have never seen that one. It is quite beautiful, but where did you get it?” he asked, finally fixing his stare at her face as she did her best to deceive him.

“Well, I—”

“Never mind,” he interrupted through clenched teeth. “It’s lovely.” With that, he put out his arm for her to take and led her downstairs to the dining room. “Your hair smells wonderful,” he assured, stopping at the doorway to move in for a kiss. She turned away, coldly.

“Well,” Alethea said, changing the subject quickly, “I have never been in here.” She looked around, enjoying the decor. “Good taste, I never knew you cared about material possessions—other than living, breathing ones, that is.” She ignored his sharp look.

The room was full of color and art. Statues of Roman and Greek deities sat in every window, shining in glory as they proudly protected the room. Vivid, obscure paintings hung about, giving the room warmth and mystery at the same time. Alethea found it all quite impressive, although she wasn’t familiar with the who’s who of the artistic world. “Have you always collected such tasteful art?”

“Yes,” he admitted, almost shyly. “I am not art illiterate. True art, in such mystifying forms,” he indicated to the statue of Dionysus at the eastern window, “are taken deeply. I adore myth, as I adore the truth in myth. You see, Alethea—”

The chime of the doorbell distracted him. Alethea wandered over to the statue he had been unraveling for her. He disappeared from the room. She could have escaped then, if she wanted to, but Roman’s words to her earlier kept her steady. Though, judging her feelings lately, she feared her encounter with him could have been a daydream. She had trouble finding anything to be real in that place. Everything seemed like a dream or nightmare in one way or another. But, it was true, Roman was in the next room, along with Devendra. Their voices soothed her paranoid thoughts, instilling her with renewed vigor.

“Come in here and relax,” Lokee indicated the dining table and Roman locked eyes with Alethea who turned to face them graciously. Her head began to swim, but as soon as he put his arms around her for an embrace, devouring her in his hold, all the uncertainty that tried to break her down dissolved. He kissed her forehead and backed away to let Devendra in. She pressed her cheek against Alethea’s and whispered, “You will leave with us tonight, darling; I promise it will end here.” Alethea kissed her cheek, and motioned for Roman to take the seat next to her own.

“No,” Lokee interrupted quickly before Roman had the chance to sit. “You are here,” he said, pulling out the chair furthest from Alethea’s. Roman sneered at him, but obeyed to avoid unnecessary tension to breed on his jealousy. Devendra took the seat closer to Alethea and Lokee sat arrogantly at the head of the table.

Uncomfortable silence hung in the air for several moments as everyone settled down waiting for the next move. Servants appeared from every door carrying trays of appetizers to set before them. Regular food would not curve Alethea’s hunger; it was blood she craved. Just as that thought crossed her mind, she looked over at the only dish that still held its cover. Lokee tapped at it with his long fingernails. “Is this what you want, Alethea?” He said this as he removed the lid to reveal a bowl of fresh blood.           

“Who?” she asked, suddenly feeling very ill. Jezebel’s scent was overwhelming her. She saw flashes of Lokee slaying the beloved cat only to spite her. He pushed the bowl closer, forcing Alethea to smell and identify that it was indeed hers. “No!” she cried, out of breath, throwing her arms up to shield her eyes. She had loved that cat; the comfort Jezebel had provided her throughout the nightmare she had been living was a saving grace. That precious animal did nothing but love everyone around her. “How could you?” Alethea cried.

“Oh, please, don’t tell me a vampire is sad over the death of a flea bag,” he teased, laughing at the way she mourned the cat’s death. He stood up, kicking his chair back behind him. Roman jumped up in response, but Devendra steadied him with her gaze. “You are weak, Alethea! Weak and stupid,” he insisted, pounding his fist on the table. “One thing I have finally found out, after fucking you and trying to win your approval all this time, is that you aren’t worth the sweat of my ass! You are worthless!” He wiped the spit that formed at the corners of his mouth. “I invited them here tonight for one reason,” he said, walking towards Alethea. “They will bear witness to your death, not mine. You do not deserve immortality, nor do you deserve the gifts a vampire is blessed with upon creation. You don’t deserve it like I do; like we do. You are a joke!”

His fingers thrust toward Alethea in the air, threatening to fly off his hands and into her heart. Roman shot over to her, ready to defend her, ready to defend her with murderous rage.

Lokee continued to speak with hatred and threats: “You will die, not me! You were the mistake, ignorant and immature. Did you really think you meant anything? You are not Alexandria, and you’re definitely not my precious Lorien.” He stood in front of her now, struggling only briefly to regain his composure.

Alethea stood up to face him, pushing her fear aside, feeling much stronger in the presence of Roman and Devendra.

“It would be wise of you to take your seat, Lokee,” Roman said in a dangerous murmur. Devendra moved over to Roman and put her hand on his forearm, silently asking him to step down and let her take the lead.