Wilhelmina A Novella (16 page)

It had taken me at least twenty minutes to get to where I had been in the woods when I was human, but now, in my newfound dream world, I was back at the estate in less than a second. But then again, as I’d proven to myself with my perception trick, time meant nothing here. As far as I was concerned,
time
was no longer a concept.

I surveyed the garden, calculative and cautious. Once vivid with life, it was now nothing more than a black burnt patch of acre in the ground. The garden shed was gone, and I felt a sense of victory inside, but that feeling quickly sunk into the roiling despair of loss. My triumphant frame of mind was crushed when I stood on the spot where the bodies of the governess’ old guests once were. They’d been burned along with the garden, and I knelt down to the ground and clutched at the soil beneath my fingers.

The wave of emotion that surged through me was far more powerful than anything I’d ever felt, more overwhelming than what I was prepared for, and I cried out in pain like a wounded animal. I couldn’t help it, or control it; it was the worst feeling in the world. I’d welcome back the flames of perdition, take them and endure it for a thousand years and be grateful - anything to get rid of this horribly morose feeling of helplessness.

The pain did ebb away, very slightly, as I heard a carriage in the distance. Instantly, effortlessly, I found myself standing on the front lawn without even a bat of my lashes. I heard the hansom, yes, but when the horses came into view it was still half a mile down the road at least.

Then I smelled him. The rider, ripe and young, smelled so mouth-wateringly delectable that it made my throat burn like a black-flamed viper snaked down into my stomach. It was only a faint echo of the fiery pain that I’d tolerated, but still very tangible.

The wagon came this way and I held my body as still as possible. My mind drifted so slowly that the world around me sped up so; birds were bullets and trees seizure in the wind. When the cart finally arrived I let everything shift into its natural state of motion.

‘Good morning,’ said the man on the wagon with a smile.

I noticed every flicker of his eyes as they gauged my figure, and the thrumming heartbeat beneath the tight skin of his throat. His heart accelerated as his eyes drifted lower, and I couldn’t help but feel a little wicked as I found his blatant desire amusing.

A new sensation flushed through me, and I felt something alien. Something strange. I didn’t feel like myself anymore.  It was like my mind had grown much more massive, and new sides, shades, and versions of myself had moved in without my notice.

This new shade of blue rising from the depths of my bosom desired this young man as much as he desired me, only my desires were a little different than his.

I hungered for his soul.

He hopped down from the hansom and patted his snug uniform, straightening out his short jacket and hat. He walked around the restless horses with a letter in his hand, and I smirked. Well, the
other
me smirked. Ah, I thought, the infamous postal boy that I’d heard of when I was locked up in that shed. Well, he was a postal
man
now, young and strapping, thin but sturdy.

I studied his movements – the slight switch of his hips, the outlines of his body in the slim fitting uniform. But it didn’t feel like a sexual assessment for me, not like with Charles. No, this was like I was watching Thomasine walk out of the kitchen with a juicy tenderloin in her hands. I wasn’t sizing up the man for his sexual prowess, but sizing up his build and how much he could slake this hunger.

It was an unfair and iniquitous tactic on my part, but I knew just how to lure him to me. He was too busy reading the ink on the envelope to see what was coming. When he looked up he froze.

He stared, eyes wide and dumbfounded. I heard his heart speed up as blood pumped from his upper body to his nether regions, and I knew I had him lined and hooked with my game.

He couldn’t resist my naked form standing there before him, shining in the morning sun like an angel as fire and flame slithered visibly beneath my skin. I
was
an angel, his Thanatos.

‘Come here,’ I cooed, and part of me was distracted by the sound of my voice. Not only had it changed, but my hearing had improved in so many ways that I heard the distinct prowess and power within its coy and high-pitched whisper. It sounded like a cat’s meow mingled with the trill of a harp, along with a smooth crystalline echo.

He was mesmerized, dazed, but his feet brought him closer. His eyes were locked on my navel, the curves surrounding it, and its irresistibly alluring display.

I could see the vein in his neck pumping away as he took a nervous gulp. He dropped the letter and was in no way shy about touching me when he was near. The moment his fingers stroked the side of my breast, he was in my grasp, screaming in agony as my razor-sharp teeth, stronger than iron and tempered steel, sank into his flesh with ease. I struck with precision.

But his scratchy howl resonated in my new-found ears, and I snapped his neck to silence him.

I gorged myself in his hot blood, and felt revived. And then I placed my drenched lips over his, and what happened next was instantaneous. I saw light inside of his throat as something cool and breathtaking shot through his mouth into mine. We were connected, and I could feel everything inside of him, I could feel who he was, and he was a good, kind man.

If I felt new and invigorated before, I was a goddess now. His soul had awakened so many neglected sides of me, and pieces of who I used to be. Those I’d buried, and those I didn’t know existed, clawed their way into the light as I drained every last drop of his life, drawing his vitality into my very bones.

I dropped him, and though I didn’t need the air I heaved like I did. It was just a reflex of my old life, what my body used to do when I was overly excited and aroused.

I was indomitable, strong, and Indestructible. I was divinity incarnate, and my name was death. As I licked my lips I saw myself, the usher of heaven and hell, in his eyes. I was so wicked, in fact, that the vibrant red reflection in his eyes had even scared me.

That’s when those shadowed claws reaching out of their pristine depths receded into hiding and I saw the situation as it really was.

I was standing naked, covered in blood as it ran down my torso, over the innocent man I had just slaughtered for no reason other than the fact that I could. I didn’t know who or what I was at that moment, because I definitely wasn’t the young woman I was before, not at all. I wondered, as guilt climbed out of my empty and hollow shell of a body, if I’d lost everything in exchange for this unconquerable form.

Where was Wilhelmina, and who was I?

I smelled the stalker before they could surprise me, and I faced the trees surrounding the mansion. I crouched so low that my hair grazed the grass, and I saw someone walk out of the trees.

‘It’s all right,’ the man said, hands in the air with caution. ‘I am not going to hurt you.’

Hurt
me
? I wanted to laugh at the thought that anyone or anything could possibly hurt me now, but the only thing that escaped my lips as they curled up and over my sharpened teeth was a low, feral growl as it rippled its way out of my throat. The man stopped immediately and put his hands down.

‘Can you understand what I am saying?’ he asked.

I didn’t move, I didn’t blink, I just stared and waited for some sort of advance or attack.

‘I’m surprised that you survived. I thought for sure that Rosa would have been thorough about her cleanup, but once the governess got away she became a bit reckless.’

‘The governess?’ I gasped, rising out of my crouch. I hadn’t thought about her at all, I’d just assumed that she was dead and burned at the bottom of that pile.

‘Yes. Elizabeth fled, running far from here. Rosa doesn’t know where she’s gone though, but I know more than people give me credit for, much more.’

I instantly recognized him as I stood upright and moved a bit closer. Though my memories as a human child were unbelievably fuzzy, the angular face underneath his dark hair and olive skin was not exactly forgettable, especially after the last time we’d met; set on his lap and about to fall prey to his lust for innocence.

And the punishment I suffered for his lies wasn’t easily forgotten.

I hissed again.

‘I’m not your enemy here,’ he said.

Still, I curled up my lips and dared him to step closer so that I could exact my revenge in the weight of his stone flesh.

‘I am Gregor. If I remember correctly, you are Wilhelmina.’

‘Where is she?’ I asked.

I didn’t care about what he’d done years ago, or what I’d been put through because of it. I didn’t even care that I was standing there naked, prepared to defend myself, or strike first. My mind hadn’t been made up yet. All I cared about was finding
her
.

As far as I was concerned, Elizabeth Bathory was responsible for the death of my love, my angel, Charles, and she was also responsible for the hell I’d survived. I was going to rip her in every which way I could, and burn every inch of her like Rosa had done Charles.

‘Take me to her.’

9. Cold

The world was cold. I felt the warmth of the sun, and I could feel the crackling life of the wooden chair burning in the fireplace, but nothing, no matter how bright or hot, could replace the cold darkness inside of me. My body was as hot as a midsummer day, but I was drowning in this freezing abyss. I wished that it would swallow me up and end it all, but I didn’t have the power to die anymore. I was above death, and beyond human.

Well, not quite – I could still be killed, though I wasn’t exactly sure how one would go about doing so.

But that amounted to nothing because Charles was dead. This life was comparable to being trapped in a gilded cage of gold and jewels when all a bird wants most is the sky.

Even Charles, the man with beautiful tousled curls of gold, and skin as pale and strong as elegant bone, had succumb to death in the end. Charles, who had kept me company inside of my stepmother’s compound during those darkest years after my father had died. Charles, the selfless saint who’d read to me when I was sad, held me when I cried, and always came back the next week. He was dependable, and he was all that had survived of my heart. Without him, I couldn’t seem to feel a beat inside of my chest anymore.

I sat at the governess’ kitchen table, staring at Henrietta’s dead and drained body near the oven. The first time Charles and I finally made love was the last time we would ever be together. The concept on never feeling his hard body wrapped around my soft flesh for all of eternity was harder to deal with than the fact that I was in hell. The absence of him
was
hell.

‘Rosa killed almost everyone that was here that night,’ Gregor said as he calmly stood near the kitchen entrance. ‘But Elizabeth managed to get away.’

‘Who is Rosa? Why did she do this?’ I asked him, though he only shrugged.

‘Who can say for sure?’ He sighed. 'I believe it was jealousy, but I could be wrong.'

‘Jealousy?’

He drifted to the side of the table, running his fingers along the surface.

‘After Elizabeth’s unfortunate run in with Pontius years and years ago, she fled to America. Here, she wandered the plains and forests, exploring and studying the unique customs. She learned English, and settled in Texas. There, she met a young woman with whom she became fascinated. Now, the reasons as to why she damned that young woman are unclear; some stories say that she was so lonely that she was desperate for the company, while others say that it was the beginning of her auctioning enterprise. But whatever the reasons were, Rosa was the first that Elizabeth had ever damned.

‘Their past is both shaded and best left untouched…’

‘They cast aside immunity when they took my life, and
his,
’ I said. Gregor’s face was still calm, cool, and collected, but his eyes were weary. He did not mistake the anger in my voice for anything but what it was. ‘Now tell me; do you know where she is?’

‘I might,’ Gregor said. ‘That is, I’ve heard rumors. I can’t promise you anything, but if any of the stories are true then I think I know where she’s run off to.’

‘What stories?’ I asked, suspiciously.

‘If they aren’t stories then you will know soon enough,’ Gregor said. ‘When would you like to leave?’

‘Now,’ I said.

I saw the pale grey ashen face of Henrietta. She was innocent, a child born into slavery, and yet she still smiled every day. Her life would have been lived on a leash of empty servitude, and she would still appreciate all that life had to offer. Now there was nothing ahead of her, nothing for those empty eyes to look forward to.

I felt my anger rage so tremulously that, if human, my body would have trembled with tremors of wrath, a wrath waiting to be unleashed on the governess like a bullwhip.

‘You should wait a while, maybe five years or so,’ Gregor said.

‘Five
years?’
I asked sharply. I didn’t want to wait five seconds to rip her torso apart like Rosa had done to Charles, let alone five years.