Ravens Deep (one) (19 page)

             
You awoke feelings and desires which I believed to have died longer ago than I care to recall.  You will always be my beloved, my one and only true love, but my soul has been damned and I refuse to allow that fact to destroy your life.

             
In our time together, I was aware of the horror of what I could do.  In my enchantment over you I clouded your rational thoughts and judgment, and despite my best efforts you suffered anyway. I watched over you whilst you slept in my belief that I could keep you safe, but in reality you needed a life far from me to keep you truly safe. I can no longer allow you to live your life that way or bring you the torment of my life and my existence. I want a better existence for you.

             
I reveal to you now in trusted safe-keeping that I am immortal, an eternal creature of the night, one who walks the earth only in the shadows.  My lust for blood is my torture and my nightmare, but it allows my existence. You know I have learnt restraint and far from me you are forever safe.  My life is darkness and infinite misery, but my happiness will be the knowledge that you have light in your life and can find peace, whereas I can never.

             
It is with great sadness that I send this letter, for I know it must be the very last correspondence between us, but I have completed your family tree and at least you will understand why the first Madeline Shaw was so special to me.

             
You are the very last living descendant in my family line and my wish for you is to forget what has occurred and continue to move forward with your life.

              Darius Chamberlayne, a.k.a. Mr. Chambers

Chapter Fifteen - London, Eighteen Months Later

              The time passed slowly, my life drifting from day to endless day with no relief in sight from my unhappiness.  It had been fourteen months since my release from St. Julienne’s psychiatric hospital where the numerous tests had proved inconclusive.  The doctors had satisfied themselves that I really posed no serious threat to myself and had reached the conclusion that I had probably suffered some sort of breakdown. But my time in hospital had not been all bad, I was at least back up to a sensible weight and I looked healthier.

             
But I returned to my empty world, to a life that held no hope or promise. I had waited, and hoped, beyond all hope that Darius would come, but he had not. Without my letters I had nothing, except my memories and the odd scar on my wrist that refused to heal properly, a constant reminder of him.  I had secured another job and picked up with my writing again, but my creativity was lost and my passion gone.  Charlie had stayed in my life for a while, but even he could not cope with my coldness towards him, my depressing moods and my unwillingness to discuss their cause.

             
Charlie had been the one who finally broke off our relationship. Deep down he knew I didn’t love him and now I was well again, he had a clear conscience about leaving me. It had not even upset me.  To me Charlie had become like a comfortable old chair that sits in a corner for years until it is time to replace it, and then once it is gone, you cannot remember why you held onto it for so long.  It was not important to me what Charlie felt, if he was sad or heartbroken.  My only thoughts were of what I had lost.

             
I had tried hard to forget. I resolved to put Darius and Ravens Deep out of my mind, but as much as I tried, he was always there.  He haunted both my dreams and my waking hours, he was in the very depths of my being and my longing to see him again was utterly consuming me.

             
When I wasn’t working I spent my afternoons and evenings visiting museums, especially the ones that stayed open late into the evening.  All the while, I was on edge, hoping to catch a glimpse or to feel his presence, something that would indicate to me that he was close by. But if he ever did see me then he never allowed himself to be seen.

             
I researched the numerous museums and their employees, even befriending several curators as I tried to obtain information regarding their various historians, but not one of them seemed to know of a historian named Chambers or Chamberlayne. 

             
I would park my car outside these different museums and sit in darkness with my eyes fixed firmly on the back entrances and alleyways.  Sometimes they were obscured by curious shadows, and I watched for any movement, but hour after hour, night after night I had been disappointed -- my vigils turned up nothing.  The weeks had turned into months and I was despairing at ever seeing Darius again. Yet, there were times when I could have sworn he was close to me.  It was a feeling, a sixth sense, but whenever I looked, there was nothing to be seen. 

             
At other times in my flat I would sit at my desk next to the window and on occasion something would make me look up.  I would stare out of the open window into the shadows of the night, but all I saw were the iron railings and the branches of the trees swaying softly in the breeze. Those railings marked the boundary to the little square across the road from where I lived.  They threw distorted shadows across the pavement and I would strain my eyes to take in every tree and shrub. However, nothing ever appeared out of the ordinary and much to my dismay no dark shapes shifted or moved unnaturally. I began to think that in my longing for Darius, I was actually imagining that he was close.

             
Today marked the two year anniversary of that first fateful meeting in the garden at Ravens Deep.  Perhaps because of that fact, my mood was darker than ever.  I couldn’t’t go on like this, I didn’t want to wait forever and if he refused to come to me, then I must be the one to go and find him. 

             
I was certainly afraid of that decision and unsettled by what I knew him to be capable of. I wondered about his reaction if I did break my promise to him, and then I questioned my sanity. Even to my own mind it was dubious. But I had endlessly reasoned the possibilities of what I should do and in all that reasoning, there was only one conclusion.  If I did nothing, I would spend my life languishing in despair and regret until I died, or I could take charge of the situation and go back to Ravens Deep and to a life with Darius.  

             
I did not understand how his existence was possible and even though it was as if he had stepped from the pages of a horror novel, he had entered my life and he was real.  Regardless of the implications and every rational thought I was capable of, seemed irrelevant, the only thing I knew for certain was I had an undeniable connection to him, and my entire being ached for him. His words often came back to haunt me.

             
“Do you want to die?” 

             
The question was beside the point, because I felt as though I was slowly dying inside anyway. For me there was no point to living without him. I reasoned that I had lived at Ravens Deep by his side, although I had not been aware at the time, we had been happy in spite of what he was I believed I made him happy. Why couldn’t’t I go back to that?  Although now I knew, things would be different, I could be condemning myself to a hell of my own making?  But hell is where I was living right now.

             
Darius might actually kill me, after all, that was his nature, but I reasoned that it was better to die by his hand than to waste all the years ahead of me, growing old with only pain and regret in my heart.  I would watch my skin shrivel and turn grey and know all the while that he was still as young and perfect as he had always been.

             
I had convinced myself, and sat at the desk to write the letter.  I would deliver it to the London address that I had memorized from the past.  Sooner or later he would come to London, he always did.

August 12th

My Dearest Darius,

             
I only can hope beyond all hope that this letter finds you, since I have no other way of contacting you.

             
Enough time has passed since we parted for me to be certain that I do not want to exist in this world anymore without you. The horror of your existence pales into insignificance when it is compared to the terrifying thought of never seeing you again. I know you are capable of love behind that darkness.

             
Forgive me for breaking my promise. I am compelled to return to Ravens Deep. I will remain in London for two weeks, enough time for you to receive this letter and know of my intention.

             
I know we can be together and our love for each other will make us both strong. I did find my destiny at Ravens Deep, it is to be with you.

Forever Yours, Madeline

I
re-read the letter, it seemed so brief.  I wanted to say so much to him, but I had to say it in person, not formally written in a letter. I wanted to tell him how much I longed to see him again, and of my agonizing need to be with him that would not cease. But when I wrote down the words, it sounded too desperate, and I didn’t’t want him to interpret it that way.  When I finally got to speak to him, I would be calm and logical and he would see my determination and realize that being together was our destiny.

             
I sealed the envelope and addressed it to Mr. Chambers, 27 Parson Place, London SW3. Then I pulled out a map of London’s West End. Rush hour traffic would already have built up and I had to leave immediately, or else I would be sitting in a traffic jam for the next hour. London wasn’t the easiest city to drive through at this time of day.

             
I wasn’t sure why I had not made this trip to Parson Place before now.  I had lacked courage perhaps, and assumed he was either at Ravens Deep or the museum, but this address was the only way I had to contact him, besides, it was my best hope.

             
I drove through the city streets and checked my map several times. The traffic was slow moving and it was 7.50 p.m. before I reached my destination.  I read the various, feeling nervous as on my right I found the one I had been searching for and turned my car into Parson Place. A dozen or so grandiose old Victorian houses lined both sides of the street. This was an elegant neighbourhood, these houses all had wealthy owners.  I parked the car and got out. I walked along the street and looked through the iron railings to read the house numbers.

             
Suddenly I saw it -- number twenty seven.

             
The butterflies fluttered through my stomach and my legs felt strangely weak as I gazed up at the house.  It did look large and imposing, but not necessarily sinister. The tall black railings and gate led through to stone steps that led up to a solid door.  Steps also went downwards giving access to a lower basement, below street level.  I leaned over the railing, it looked dark and uninviting. I noticed that black grates covered all the windows, making them inaccessible to burglars. 

             
Darius obviously has to be cautious in the city.

             
But these grates did not particularly look out of place, as several others houses had similar type grates that covered their windows. I took a deep breath and w walked up the stone steps.  I was trembling a little, and my butterflies had multiplied. I glanced down at my watch, it was still too early.  If he was at home, he would not answer before the sun went down. So I went back to where I had parked and moved my car further up the street, positioning it to give me a clear view of the house and then I waited.

             
My eyes never moved from the doorway, but I was aware of the sun moving lower in the sky.  By nine thirty five the sun had set, this long summer’s day had seemed endless, and even at this hour I could still make out the sun’s faint glow on the horizon. 

             
The apprehension mounted as I walked back to the door and lifted the heavy brass door knocker.  I brought it down as loud and hard as I could.

             
This would wake even the dead!