State of Grace (Resurrection) (14 page)

‘
I did!’ Roman protested. ‘She was mine, and then she vanished. And now she is mine no longer.’

‘And now she is here.’ Viktor observed. ‘Make her your thrall,’ he insisted.

Roman nodded once and moved towards me. His eyes were large and luminous and he gazed into mine as he sat beside me. He rested one hand on my thigh, and I stiffened, leaning away from him. I didn’t know what these two had going on, but I did know I didn’t want any part of it. One man at a time was my limit, and I liked to have a say in which man it would be. Right now I wanted neither, in spite of my earlier reaction to both of them, and however attractive Roman was.

Roman’s eyes locked on to mine, worshipping me, promising me untold delights and pleasure, promising to love me, promising the world. The blackness of them was compelling and I could feel the pull of him, his need, his desire, and my own body answered his, my pulse speeding, throbbing at my throat, my breath quick and shallow. I licked my lips, anticipating of the taste of his mouth on mine. Then I pulled myself together.

‘No,’ I said.

Roman let out a shocked gasp, and drew back in confusion. ‘She resisted me!’

‘Yes, she did.’ Viktor did not sound in the least surprised.

‘I don’t understand. How could she…? What…?’

‘Be calm, my friend. There will be an explanation, I am sure.’

‘But…
but… you were able to enthral her a few moments ago, yet I cannot. How can this be so? I have never heard of a va– of one our kind not being able to enthral a human when another of our kind can.’

‘Nor I, but…
’ Viktor was staring at me, with speculation in his eyes.

‘What?’

‘It is of no matter.’ Viktor paused. ‘We should return to the castle tomorrow night and you can enthral another. Perchance it is only this one that is a problem.’ He pointed in my direction. ‘I suspect that will be the case.’

‘For what reason?’

‘I cannot say at present. Let me think on it.’

Roman looked exasperated, but he didn’t push the other man for any further explanation.

‘Do you wish to share?’ Viktor asked. ‘It would not be the first time. I am curious to taste her and I would like to understand what attraction she holds for you, that you cannot enthral her. I wonder if it would be the same for me once I had drunk from her. I may find an answer in her blood.’ He carried on, ‘I have not fed tonight. There is enough blood for both of us.’ A thought occurred to him, ‘Or do you feel something for this one?’

Roman didn’
t answer.

‘You still want her.’ This was a statement, not a question.

‘Yes.’

‘I see,’ said Viktor. ‘I will not touch her, then, unless you invite me to do so. May I?’ he asked. ‘I will not drink from her, I merely want to scent her.’

Roman nodded curtly and Viktor stood and moved towards me. Although he looked into my eyes, I did not feel the same as earlier. He was not using whatever he had used on me last time, and for that I was truly thankful. He took my chin in his hand and tilted my head away from him to reveal the bite marks on my neck. I glared at him out of the corner of my eye and shuddered when I saw him run his tongue over his lips. His mouth parted revealing pointed white canines. Dread engulfed me, paralysing me, but he didn’t bite me although his face was inches from my neck. Instead, he inhaled, long and deep through his nose, let his breath out, and repeated the process. Scenting me. I wondered what it was he could smell. He told me.

‘Human. Without doubt,’ he said to Roman, raising his head from my neck. ‘The only trace of our kind that I can smell is you on her skin. Her blood is human.’

I pulled away from him, freaked out past all reason, both by the actions and the conversation of these two very strange men, and without considering the consequences, I raised my hand. Viktor, cat-quick, caught my arm before I could slap him in the face.

Suddenly the mood in the small room abruptly changed as Roman slapped the table and laughed. ‘Feisty, isn’t she.’

Viktor shrugged as if I was of no consequence and he suddenly lost interest as he released me and glided to the door. He had a feline grace, and if he wasn’t so creepy, I would have enjoyed watching him move. I was glad to see him leave. Now there was only one weirdo left to deal with.

‘What was all that about?
’ I demanded, so far beyond scared I didn’t care anymore. I was seriously annoyed. ‘Right,’ I yelled, leaping to my feet, and almost falling as my stiffened legs nearly failed to do their job. ‘I’m going. I’m not staying here another minute with you pair of mad axe murderers. What the hell are you talking about! Drink my blood indeed! Taste me! The pair of you are insane. You should be locked up!’

I took two steps towards the door but before I could take another step I found the exit blocked by Roman. Again, he had been too fast for me to see and now he was preventing me from leaving, and to make matters worse he was laughing. That made me even
madder! I didn’t know or understand what was happening, or whether I would ever wake up from this hallucination, or whatever the hell it was, but I did know that I was angry and scared, and hungry and tired. And I ached. My emotions had pendulumed from intense desire to horror, from lust to dread, and back again, all in the space of a few minutes.  I didn’t want to play this game anymore. I wanted to be at home in my own bed, safe. I wanted my life back. I wanted everything to be like it was before the damned tumour. I didn’t want to be ill. I didn’t want to die.

Suddenly, without warning, I was crying, deep racking sobs that hurt my chest, tear
s of grief at the unfairness of my life pouring down my cheeks. Roman wrapped his arms around me and I clung to his tunic, soaking the fabric as his strength prevented me from slipping to the floor in my despair. He held me tightly against him as I howled at the world, at God, and mostly at myself.

It took a long time but eventually I gathered the scattered pieces of my mind together, gaining control a fraction at a time, until I
was capable of being me again, not a raw emotion-ridden child. I put her back in her box and locked her firmly away. I had a suspicion she would work her way free again, but not tonight. I was all done in, emotionally, physically and mentally. I was too tired and spent to care anymore and throughout it all Roman held me without comment, accepting my anguish and giving me comfort merely by his touch and his closeness.

I wiped my face on my trailing sleeves, perversely wondering if
that was their purpose in life since Kleenex was out of the question. When it was clear I had cried myself out, Roman considerately moved away from me, giving me time to pull myself together. He poured some water from a jug into a wooden bowl and, gratefully I splashed my face, the coolness of the liquid soothing my heated skin. Those sleeves came in handy again.

‘Dawn is nearly here,’ Roman said, looking out through one of the tiny windows. ‘You will rest.’ It might have been a command, but I honestly didn’t care. I had been up all night and was utterly and completely worn out.

He pulled aside the cloth curtain leading to the other room and jerked his head towards the bed. It was low to the floor, more like a futon than a bed, but I didn’t care, and I sank down on to it with relief, my legs uttering small twinges in protest at the movement. Roman let the curtain drop.

I briefly wondered where Roman and Viktor were going to sleep as I wriggled underneath the piled up blankets and furs, and that was the last coh
erent thought I had that night.

Chapter 6

There was no
glass in the window, I noticed, but there were shutters. Badly fitting shutters. Light lanced into the room through cracks and chinks in the wood, low slanty light in which dust motes swirled and played.

I stretched, then stilled, remembering everything from the night before, and
at the same time realising I hadn’t woken up in my own bed: I was still trapped in my hallucination.  I hoped my body was still in my bed at home. There was no reason it shouldn’t be; the last three times I had not moved physically, so it was probably safe to assume I wouldn’t sleep walk this time. I considered the very real possibility I may be dying. At least there was no pain, apart from sore muscles from the unaccustomed riding yesterday, and for that I was grateful. Angie, my Macmillan nurse in London, a gently spoken woman who had seen more death than anyone should have, had calmly reassured me that my pain, when it finally and irrevocably arrived, would be managed. It was the pain that frightened me more than death.

I lay still, ears straining, but could hear no movement and the only sound to reach me was birdsong drifting in through the shutters. I got out of bed with difficulty, the skirt of that ridiculously long dress having tangled around my legs during the night. I was relieved that I had clothes on: I could never be sure of that in this particular reality of mine.

I wondered where Roman and Viktor had slept, considering I had what appeared to be the only bedroom. Thinking of those two made me realise that I had a few questions to ask them. More than a few.

First things first, though. I was hungry and I badly needed a cup of coffee. My family were mostly tea drinkers and my dad, especially, had shaken his head at the state-of-the-art coffee machine I had brought with me from my flat in
London. It did everything except drink it for you. Mum had obligingly bought me a supply of exotic blends from Whittakers in Cardiff when my stash had ran out. I took it hot and black. Ianto thought I was just showing off. Well, he would, I reasoned – Mr Far-Too-Milky-And-With-Two-Sugars. Yuk! I did happen to see him in Brecon’s only coffee shop, though, with Lauren Constable (pretty, false nails, not too bright, and wouldn’t know a sheep if it butted her in the ass, so no good as a farmer’s wife then), and he had been manfully making his way through something thick and black in a tiny cup. Good luck with that, I remembered thinking at the time, knowing how much he was hating it. I had teased him unmercifully about it when he had gotten home.

That’s the so
rt of coffee I could use right now. I needed to kick start my system.

‘Hello?’ I called, holding aside the cloth hanging across the doorway. The other room was empty. Som
e house this was: it was more of a hovel. It reminded me of some of the buildings I had been forced into looking at during a school trip to St Fagan’s. The words ‘bare’ and ‘basic’ came to mind. If this shack was transported to Brittany, and advertised as having ‘rustic charm’, wealthy middle-class matrons would be drooling over it and the owners could charge a fortune for a holiday rental. As it was, I didn’t do ‘rustic’. I wanted a kettle, a toaster, and a shower. In that order. Oh yes, and an indoor toilet.

I examined the room more close
ly. The fire had gone out as had the candles. It was chilly. The tiny window was shuttered like the one in the bedroom and the place was dark and gloomy, but, from what little I could see, fairly clean.

I opened the door letting welcome light flood
in and I took another good look around. Yep, I sighed, it was as I thought – no electricity. Not a light bulb or a socket to be seen. I blew out my cheeks in frustration, my stomach gurgling loudly as I went outside. A low barn ran at right-angles to the house, and in the L-shape made by the two buildings a paved area kept the mud at bay. The blocks were unevenly hewn, but they served the purpose. Both of the horses were hobbled close by, heads down, grazing. In daylight the animals looked substantial, as large as thoroughbreds but much bigger boned. Their coats shone in the low-lying afternoon sun and they were clearly well cared for.

I took another
look at the sky in surprise: no wonder I was so hungry, it must be at least five in the afternoon and the sun was just setting on a brisk November evening. I worked out I hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours although I was not sure whether I was using ‘here’ time or ‘real’ time. Whatever time it was, I just knew I was hungry.  I stepped out further into the yard, eyes and ears open for signs of people; there was no one. I was going to have to fend for myself and decided that I would need to tack up one of the horses and ride back to the castle. People meant food, and there had to be a way I could get my hands on some. I couldn’t buy anything because I had no money, and then a thought struck me… or could I? I wondered if there was any money in the cottage, and I went back inside to check.

A
fter searching it thoroughly I found nothing of use except for a pair of breeches (way too big, but beggars couldn’t be choosers) and a clean tunic. Hurriedly I changed out of the annoying dress, after finding that I could have a new career as a contortionist as I manoeuvred my arms behind my back to tackle those ridiculous ties. I was far more comfortable in trousers and they were easier to ride in, too. A piece of rope served as a belt and drew the tunic in at the waist. Hardly a fashion statement, but what the hell!

Back outside, I visited the privy again,
and then I ventured further across the yard and stopped to try to get my bearings. I couldn’t remember much about the ride from the castle last night, it had been too dark, but I did remember that for a lot of the time we had been riding uphill. I figured that if I reversed the process then at least I would be heading in the right direction.

I couldn’t see much over the tops of the trees in front, apart from distant hills and rolling countryside, but when I faced the other direction I gasped in surprise. I recognised that profile! T
he mountains were unmistakable: I had grown up with them. I was on the northern side of the Beacons, possibly not far from my home and I made an educated guess that the castle we had been in last night must be Brecon Castle. I searched my memory for what I knew about the building and its history, and something Roman had said rang a belated bell, Bernard de something-or-another. I had heard the name before. A history lesson, maybe? I was sure he was connected to Brecon Castle, but I simply couldn’t remember any more. I knew if I kept worrying at it the knowledge would continue to elude me, so I let it go for the moment.

I headed to
the barn to look for a head collar. If I could saddle up the gelding I could ride to where the farm should be. An intense desire to run for home flooded through me. I hadn’t worked out the logic behind that impulse yet or what would happen if the farm was there, and I was in bed where I had left myself. Would my two selves merge into one or would I remain as two separate Graces? What would I do if there was no farm at all? I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t see Viktor before I ran into him. I screamed as I bounced back off his slim but very solid frame and as I staggered to regain my balance I noticed that both men were stood in front of me. They stepped to the side, as one. I had no idea why I hadn’t seen them. One minute they were not there, the next they were. How did they
do
that?

I looked from
one to the other. Viktor was bored and was staring into the distance but Roman’s attention was firmly on me.

‘We will return to the castle,’ he said. ‘I am expected tonight.’ He thrust a bundle at me. ‘Here, put this on.’ His eyes travelled over my body and he frowned. ‘What are you wearing?’

‘Oh, er, trousers and a tunic thingy. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind, but that dress was getting in the way and…’ I ground to a halt. Viktor picked this moment to notice me again and both men looked slightly incredulous. ‘Look,’ I sighed. ‘Where I come from women wear trousers, ok? And they don’t wear silly dresses with long skirts and sleeves that trail in your food. Um… speaking of food?’

‘Yes, we all need to feed.’ Roman was distracted. ‘Where you come from? Where exactly is that?’

‘Technically, from about a mile to two away, but I lived in London for a while.’

There th
ey go with that staring again, mostly expressionless, but with a hint of disbelief, flavoured with a smidge of incredulity. I took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think it’s the
where
, so much as the
when
,’ I said.

Viktor glanced at Roman. Roman was doing his statue impression.

‘I understand,’ Viktor said, and then he asked the right question. ‘
When
are you from?’

‘Your future, I think. But I’m not sure,’ I added hastily, as Roman jerked in surprise. ‘I am guessing, and I’m probably wrong, but I think I mig
ht have travelled back in time, in my head, that is. Not physically. I mean, you aren’t really
real
, I just think you are. Actually, I can’t think you are real, because obviously I don’t and –  Oh crap.’ I gave up. I was making absolutely no sense at all. Not even to myself.

Viktor squinted as he tried to work that out. I could almost hear the cogs whirring. The sun was setting rapidly and it was getting dark
, but I was sure I could see smoke coming out of his ears as his brain went into overdrive.

‘I know,’ I sighed. ‘It doesn’t make sense to me, either.

‘I think it does,’ Viktor said, slowly and thoughtfully. ‘It would explain much. You
are
human, this I know,’ he clarified. ‘Yet, your life spans centuries and this is not possible. But here you are and Roman has seen you hundreds of years ago and he swears you have not aged.’

I picked up on the one thing that sounded the strangest in an already odd conversation. ‘Of course I am human. What else would I be?’ I remembered the discussion the two men had last night. And I rememb
ered my suspicions. Pixies, elves, goblins? Really?

‘I’ll try to explain,’ I continued and I took in a steadying breath. This was not a subject I felt comfortable discussing even with my family, let alone total strangers. ‘I’ve got a tumour,’ I said, in the same tone as an alcoholic at an AA meeting. ‘And it’s killing me.’

Before I could carry on, Viktor stopped me, not understanding my terminology. Roman was still in shock, apparently, because all he could do was to stare, his black eyes revealing nothing.

‘Tumour? What is this? ’ Viktor asked. ‘I do not know this word.’

‘It’s a lump of tissue, a growth, in my brain.’ I pointed to my head.

‘I cannot see anything.’ Viktor leaned closer to check.

‘No, you won’t be able to. It’s on the inside, near to my brain stem. You can only see it with an MRI or a CAT scan. That’s how the doctors found it.’

‘Ema
areye? Cat?’ Viktor was way beyond bewildered. It felt nice to get my own back a little.

‘Trust me, ok? I went to hospital and they diagnosed a tumour. And it’s going to kill me, sooner rather than later. That’s all you need to know.’

‘I do not understand ‘hospital’ or ‘tumour’ but I do understand death. You are dying?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yet you are here.’ He stated this in the flattest tone possible.

‘Ah, yes, well, see, I don’t think I am. Well, I
do
think I am, and that’s the problem.’

Roman had come out of his trance and wore the same express
ion as Viktor. I could tell they both thought I was insane. I shivered. It was cold and I wasn’t wearing much. My shiver didn’t go unnoticed and Roman shepherded me back inside the cottage with Viktor following close behind. Roman concentrated on getting a fire lit and I sat on the cushions, shifting their lumpiness around to make them more comfortable, and pulled one of the rough blankets up over my shoulders. Roman and Viktor took the same chairs as the previous night.