The Key (Sanguinem Emere) (8 page)

I swipe impatiently at one of the marks on my inner forearm, aggravated by the vague healing itch. I keep trying to tell them it isn’t me. They don’t listen. They never do. It’s a surprise he’s even listening to me now.

“When the cycle of events ends in my head, it’s like I’ve lost him forever.”

Dr Shane sits back and rests the tip of his pen against his lower lip. He studies me for a moment and then he commands calmly, “Do continue.”

The door itself, a heavy, ridiculous thing that only someone wealthy and unconcerned with the trivialities of responsible spending would have in their home, spectacularly muffles the speech of the voices. But I can make out the slithering tones of the man I met earlier and – my pulse thuds up a beat – Dimitri.

“It would be unseemly for her to be marked by your hand, Levi. If she is, in any way, blemished, I will be displeased,” Dimitri’s tones ring through my head and I stay my hand as it betrays me by reaching for the door in order to lead my body to him.

Levi speaks in response, “I only wished to prove a point to her, Dimitri. It was only a slight expression of intimacy, just enough to make her stay of her own volition.”

“I was referring to the events of earlier this afternoon. Delilah informed me that you were perhaps a bit rough with her as you took her to her room while she slept.”

The voices go quiet.

“Is there a further transgression that I should be made aware of?”

“Dimitri-” The other man stutters and fumbles over his next words and a triumphant smile slinks over my lips.

“It is unwise to disobey my instructions, Levi. As I am sure you remember. The girls are mine and thus flourish under my protection. You are not to make use of them or tempt them from me-”

“No one could-”

A sharp slap resounds through the room.

“Do not interrupt me, Levi.”

A few terse moments of silence follow before Dimitri breaks it once more, “Eva is at the door, please instruct her to come in. We will decide at her whim whether you are to be punished further or not.”

For just a moment I have to stifle a laugh as my inner writer describes me as a deer caught in the headlights upon hearing Dimitri’s words. I wish I could run – the words coming from Dimitri frightening me - but the force of my own stupidity locks my feet to the ground outside the door, waiting for the blonde man’s (Levi’s?) footsteps to reach me and expose me again, just as his bony, alabaster fingers did in the solitude of the bedroom. The frightened portion of my body is adamant that we should just make a run for it. What can they possibly do to keep us here if we run now? Make a strange cryptic phone call to some well-paid armed guards standing just outside the house; the kind that only ridiculously rich, Socialites may have?

Actually, that sounds plausible. Maybe we shouldn’t run then.

I’m not being paranoid now, I’m sure of it. Something about the tones of the speaking voices and the way in which things have been handled over the past hour. Everything is different. Formal and almost business-like in a mob-family type of way. With more archaic word choices.

Although the story is looking more and more enticing by the second.

The door swings open at the hand of the blonde man – Levi - who is morosely stroking at the left side of his face with his free hand. A line of moisture trembles on his upper lip. And when I care to look past his sneer (which I do at first glance to avoid the fury in his eyes) his fear becomes evident. I like to think there is some sort of plea there, but I have learned that the bullying man in any situation will never beg a woman to assist him, not even if his manhood calls for such an action. Not even without using the words.

The floral scent gracing the air is almost as intense in here as through the rest of these twisting hallways.

“Eva. Good evening.”

The tenderness radiating from Dimitri’s voice draws my attention away from the ruffian blocking my path with his licentious glare as I scan the room beyond his face.

A library. Mentally I beam that my powers of deduction are still somewhat on par. Yes, I had split it fifty-fifty on being another dining room, but sometimes you just have to accept possible failure.

At the far end of the room, beside an unlit fire that has been politely stacked as though awaiting a welcome flame, sits Dimitri in a winged, black leather armchair. The leather clashes horribly with the rest of the room’s décor (a deeper green or a brown would have suited the wallpaper and carpets far more appropriately), but the sight of Dimitri lounging like a content cat with a small smile on his face directed at me makes my eyes graze over colours, structures and textures, just to languish in the pleasure of staring at him.

“Jesus,” Levi whispers with an exasperated rolling of his eyes, “You look like a docile puppy dog. Come on, straighten your shoulders out, don’t let them see you rattled.”

I glare at him, offence cutting my voice off dead in my throat to prevent me from commenting on his despicable nature. Even though he is correct and I should probably be thanking him.

But his words hit a nerve. I do feel a very unnatural attraction to Dimitri. As if every concern I have been feeling since Saturday evaporated for only a moment as he looked at me. Not like me at all.

I walk into the room, uncomfortably noting the presence of Cecily and Delilah placed to the left and right of Dimitri’s seat, respectively. Cecily sits on the lush carpeting, her legs curled under her and her head resting on his lap, for all the world a loving pet; her eyes closed and a happy smile on her peaceful features. Delilah, however, stands just to Dimitri’s right, his hand coiled around hers. On her face she wears a small covering of concern as her eyes follow my every move, hidden behind her mask of bliss. The same visage that made me want to punch her in the kitchen before it was decided that I be drugged.

Behind Dimitri’s chair, in a corner of the library somewhat darker and more foreboding than the others stands a plump, stern-looking woman with auburn hair pulled back from her face in a severe bun, wearing a charcoal power-suit. She glares at me with the same startling dislike as I bestowed on Levi and I find myself instantly put off-balance. Her slightly pouting, plum-smeared lips smile eagerly upon seeing my discomfort. She must be a lawyer or a school mistress. Only two such people can succeed in conveying petty dislike and pity all at once.

“Sit, Eva,” Dimitri asks me gently and I find my legs willingly bending at his words as I perch on the edge of a seat in front of him.

He stands, much to the dismay of Cecily whose brow furrows unhappily as she lifts her head and cradles the edge of the armchair. Delilah seems poised to lift his fingers to her lips, but stops herself and settles back into a posture of comfort for her; one foot slightly elevated behind the other. I staunch the hiss of denial at her doting behaviour as it almost exits my lips.

As he passes my seat I find myself leaning towards him marginally as well, as though waiting for a sign of his approval. When he passes by me with hardly a glance I fold my hands in my lap nervously, fearful of what this may entail.

I have become one of those women.

“I believe you have not met Melinda,” he motions with his hand to the angry woman who responds with a simple nod, “Miss Von Hagt is my legal advisor and a member of this household as are Cecily and Delilah, and now you. I take your still being here to mean you are accepting my hospitality, yes?”

He turns to me and smiles again. Instantaneously I feel my fingers release each other from their treacherous knot, like a spring, as calm sinks into my belly. “Every girl in my house has a purpose. You see, Cecily and Delilah serve as my social butterflies,” He strokes Delilah’s cheek lovingly as he passes her by. “But you will be my social liaison. You will use your wiles with the media to uphold my relatively untarnished reputation. Melinda has been overworked of late, keeping my name clean in court and instilling fear into the hearts of publications who dare to run stories berating my actions.”

Melinda seems keen to say something, but Dimitri cuts her off with a generous smile and she blushes fervently, “She may disagree, but I can see that her immaculate work has been in decline and I have only myself to blame for that.”

Miss Von Hagt’s face blanches from the strawberries glow of a moment ago and Delilah and Cecily turn as one to throw baleful, sneering glances in her direction.

“Melinda, you will continue working on the matter we discussed earlier. I wish to see a full report with active court dates tomorrow evening,” Melinda’s colour turns somewhat grey, but as she sees me staring, her eyes harden and that condescending hatred returns to her face, “Eva, I wish you to write me an article. I have a function in two days’ time to raise funds for those dying of hunger in Ethiopia; the article must be generous regarding my commitment to the betterment of social, living standards and a testament to my fight against poverty. That will undoubtedly repair the damage following the suicide fiasco. Of course,
Reflections
is just below the viewership we need, so you will be required to become somewhat of a freelancer for the next two days and increase the impact of the piece as much as possible. And I will, of course, compensate you for the piece and any other work you choose to do for me, over and above what your publication offers. Think you can manage it?”

Not a hope in hell. “Yes, but what about-” I start to stammer pointedly, but Delilah gives just one turn of her head in negation.

Dimitri seems to wait expectantly and I smile, burying my confusion, for now, “Of course, I can.”

Delilah has turned an odd, angry nectarine colour. She glances at me, her lips pursed and her eyes slightly larger than I am used to. It’s a trap. It must be. And she realises it. There is no way on earth I can do what he is asking me to. And what of the piece he promised me? Are we going to work it into this particular article? That must be the case.

“Excellent.” His eyes pass over me again and I could swear he just mouthed a “hey” to me. It warms me, sifts away some of the fear that he isn’t the same anymore.

I lift my arm to my face briefly and the bracelet glints magnificently in the low light. Melinda’s face turns whiter as she glares at me, staring at the charms. Her hand automatically rubs over her own wrist.

She catches my eye and looks away, but I could swear there was a tear there.

Dimitri starts for the door, but stops as Levi holds it open for him, his head bowed.

“One more thing, Eva. I am aware you heard the conversation between Levi and I of a few moments ago,” I frown as Dimitri’s eyes fall on my face again and seem to travel up and down my body, inspecting unnoticeable shame.

“What would you have me do with him?”

The question seems unfairly edged. If I admit to wanting him punished, Dimitri will inevitably assume I am making demands, won’t he? And that I require others to do my dirty work for me. But if I do nothing, he will feel I approved of the odd, clinical advances made by the serpentine man and my status will be tarnished in his eyes. I look to Levi and I cannot allow the temptation slandered across me earlier to stand without punishment. But then again, Dimitri’s gaze has not wavered from my eyes and the thought of allowing any chance to offend him to slither through makes me cold to my core.

And besides, I’m sure I saw a kindness in Levi’s slumberous eyes earlier.

My voice respectfully obeys me after a few moments, “While I do feel that the man ought not to have touched me so inappropriately,” Levi flinches his eyes, the rest of his form perfectly still and tranquil, “I also cannot deny the fact that if I am to live up to your expectations,” I cringe as the strange words twist my lips, but this seems to be what’s expected. Why fight it, if it’ll get me what I came for? “I must be capable in both deed and action.”

Melinda glances cruelly at me and Delilah’s face has miraged from worried to entirely uncertain.

Cecily still sits with her hand curled through the chair’s arm, but on her face there is a small, wry smile, and I could swear she just winked at me as well. My face glows a little at the feeling of approval in the room.

Dimitri winks from the doorway before he leaves, and I think I was the only one who caught it, he is looking directly at me, after all. “Very well. You have bargained for a respite this evening, Levi. I believe our new girl will make a marvellous addition to my household.”

TUESDAY 18 November 2008… 01:00

I can’t sleep.