“There are worse crimes than burning books.
One of them is not reading them.”
- Joseph Brodsky
It was one of the worst night’s sleeps I’d ever endured.
However, if Jet hadn’t been there to hold my hand when the nightmares swarmed or my emotions overwhelmed my restraint and I wept new tears, I don’t think I would have slept at all.
It was such a relief when dawn broke. I was already awake, aching from remaining in one position all night but too scared to roll over. Jet was sound asleep, lying on his back. His profile was lightly cast in soft light, glancing off his features. I gazed at him, numb and sore.
He hadn’t left or complained once even though he probably had about as much sleep as I’d had.
I didn’t want to wake him so I just lay in bed next to him, relieved he had stayed.
My alarm sounded on my phone. I twisted and turned it off but it was too late. Jet was stirring.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes, squinting as he opened them. I watched as he gazed at the ceiling, his brow furrowing, trying to work out where he was. He yawned again and swivelled around to look at me.
“Hello.” He said.
“Hi.”
“How are you feeling?” I shrugged. “Did you get any sleep?”
“A little.” I licked my lips. “Jet…thank you…for staying.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” He admitted. “I’m not even sure it was all that helpful…”
“It was…really.”
He nodded. “Good.” He propped himself up and peered at my neck, my hand instinctively covering it. “I think it’s still weeping. We’ll need to change the gauze.”
I trembled. “Do we have to?”
“Bethany,” he looked at me firmly, “you are not going to turn into a vampire.”
He had needed to reassure me several times during the night when the irrational fear overwhelmed me and I was sure I’d heard Rob wrong.
“What if he’s here today?” I whispered.
“I wouldn’t worry about that. If Rafael stepped one foot into the Observatory, he’d be torn apart by a werewolf, shot by an elf, bitten by a dragon and Rob would clean up the mess.” Jet rolled his eyes. “That is if he dared show his face. He wouldn’t get anywhere near you.” He sat up. “I don’t want to leave you…but you probably need to get dressed and I need a change of clothes.”
“Yes, of course.” I sat up, feeling a little lightheaded.
“I’ll tell Rob I’m going so he can guard your door.” Jet tilted his head. “You sure you’ll be okay? I won’t be long.”
“It’s alright.” I nodded and let him go.
Even with new clothes on, I felt like a haggard mess. I found an old, sloppy jumper and put it over my clothes, knowing I probably looked ridiculous but it had been my mum’s and I’d kept it after she’d died. I didn’t even know why she had the top as it wasn’t stylish or trendy or even a brand name. That alone meant it was important for me to hang onto as it was part of my mum that hadn’t gotten lost in ambition.
“Query, are you dressed, Bethany St James?”
“I am.”
“Query, shall I take your clothes to be washed?”
I gathered up my pjs and dressing gown, both splattered with blood and opened the door. Rob gazed at me calmly and held out his arms.
“Thank you.” I said, wondering if he knew just how much I was thanking him for.
“You are welcome.” He said and I got the impression he was responding to much more than just the gratitude of clothes washing. “Bastian, Faelan and Eustace are downstairs.”
I paled. “Oh…do they know?”
“Yes.” I swallowed. “Query, did you not wish them to know?”
I itched to clutch at the bandage on my neck. “I suppose it’s kind of obvious.”
“Query, shall I walk you down, Bethany St James?”
“You worried I’ll try to run again?”
Rob paused. “I was concerned about the stress levels in your voice and the minute traces of blood I could detect last night which was why I contacted Jet to ask his advice. Query, did I err?”
I put my hand on his arm. “No, Rob, you didn’t.”
He walked with me down the stairs. I could see Bastian, Faelan and Eustace in a huddle, talking urgently. They looked up at our footsteps. I felt a violent desire to flee and clung to the railing. Faelan broke from the threesome first and approached me cautiously.
“May I?” He asked, holding out his hand. My hand slapped over the gauze, my breathing sharpening. “I do not need to remove the bandage and you can keep your hand there.”
I cursed my quivering lips but nodded and forced my hand down. Faelan rested his fingers lightly over the gauze and closed his eyes. The pounding of my head lessened and I could feel my skin tingling beneath the gauze. Faelan remained still for a minute before drawing back.
“You are healed.”
I could feel the medical tape coming loose. I eased it up, shaking fingers brushing across my skin. There were no holes or ragged skin from the puncture wounds. I removed the gauze completely and shivered at the two distinct bloodstains on the underside.
“Thank you.” I breathed, looking at the elf. His pale green eyes were glassy and he stared at the bloody gauze before pain rippled across his elven features. He breathed in sharply, taking a step back.
“Faelan?” I gasped.
“I am well.” He put his hand to his eyes, his sensitive fingers trembling. “Forgive me, I let down my guard…I sensed some of the…emotion behind the attack.”
“It wasn’t really an attack…”
“It damn well was,” Bastian’s face was like thunder, “and I swear when I get my hands on him…”
“Get in line.” Eustace said darkly, all joyful merriment gone from his features. “I’ll roast him where he stands.”
“Perhaps, before we all start planning our vengeance, we should ask Bethany St James what she wants to do.” Rob appeared from the laundry, the machine churning away, soaking off the bloodstains and, I hoped, taking the memory of the assault with them.
“We will, of course, defer to Bethany’s direction.” Faelan said calmly.
I felt their eyes on me and shrugged. “I don’t know what to do about Rafael,” I said, his name making my heart lurch, “I just want to go to work and forget it happened.”
“You cannot be serious about working today.” Eustace argued as I took my apron from the hook.
“I am,” I said quietly, “because the last thing I want is time alone with my own thoughts. Just…leave me be.”
“Query, would you like me to lock Rafael’s door, Bethany St James?”
My throat dried out. “I…I want you to…but I don’t think you should.” I couldn’t meet any of their gazes. I just busied myself with the attention riveting task of tying my apron on.
“Given that he’s not here yet…I suspect he won’t be here today.” Bastian remarked.
“Query, do you feel you are up to the task of serving coffee, Eustace?”
“I didn’t think I’d be dropped in the deep end so quickly…but I’m happy to try.”
“Then that is how we will approach the day.”
Possibly the hardest part of getting through that day was knowing that all the guys knew what had happened to me. I knew they couldn’t help being sensitive and empathetic but their apologetic gaze every time I caught their eyes drove yet another knife into my heart. I kept my head down and worked as hard as I could, hoping it would be busy.
Thankfully it was. Eustace was frantic at the coffee counter. He didn’t have the same air of calm efficiency as Rafael which I supposed came from years of experience. But he was bright and cheerful and very handsome which made the wait much more bearable for many of the customers. Rob helped Eustace out as much as he could. James was preoccupied most of the time with the box of toys and when Jet arrived, freshly showered and wrinkle free, he offered to take James outside where he could run some of the sugar off that we inevitably fed him.
I thought I had a pretty well practiced façade up but didn’t count on Jess noticing that something was wrong.
“You look like you didn’t sleep too well.” She observed.
“I didn’t actually.” I admitted. “It’s alright. Oh…how did your interview go?”
“Well.” She brightened. “I did just as you said, went dressed practically and neatly…and the two people doing the interview were really nice and welcoming. They’re doing a bit of hiring in Glenwilde so there’ll be a few of us in the core start up group. I have to do quite a bit of online training to bring me up to speed on their policies…but I feel like, since I could read those books and then fill in the application…I can do the online learning too.” She beamed. “Basically, if I get those modules completed, I’ll be one of the first on their books.”
“That’s so good.” I said sincerely, forgetting about my own troubles when I heard her news. “Jess, I’m so pleased!”
“Me too.” She giggled. “I might even be bringing some of the elderly clients here for a coffee and an outing.”
“I’d love to see that.” I paused as Peggy gave a cry from her pram and Jess passed her a teething ring. “What about the kids?”
“That’s the best bit.” Jess admitted. “Mum has always had a downer on me for dropping out of high school, getting pregnant, ending up without a fella and single mumming two children. I thought she’d be critical of my possible job but she was so proud. She said she’d come and live in my house with us for three months so that I can get on my feet with the job, maybe even buy a little car and help me set up my finances. She’s so excited.”
“Best news ever.” I laughed.
“I’m hoping that, one day, when I’ve got myself together, I can start paying for my coffees and the kids treats.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Yeah I do.” Jess said firmly then got teary. “I don’t know if you or Jo will ever know what it’s meant to be to have this kindness…but I’ve always said, when I have the means, I want to pay for it myself…cause then someone else can benefit. Maybe I can even start a little ‘pay it forward’ jar on the counter?”
I couldn’t help myself. I lunged forward and gave her a hug. Jess hugged me back.
“You’re a darling, you know that?”
“Well, let’s just see what happens in the future.” She laughed. “Oh, before I go, there was a little boy here earlier. Whose is he?”
“That’s James, Eustace’s son.” I pointed to the resident water dragon busily making coffee.
“That rather handsome young man at the coffee counter?” Jess blushed. “Oh…the last thing I need is a new crush. I’ll go before I do something embarrassing.”
“Maybe we could organise for your two to have a playdate with James?”
“I’d like that.” Jess helped Max tidy the toys into the box. She ushered him out the door, easing the pram past the tables. “Bethany, look after yourself, alright?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I smiled and waved them out.
It was a bright spot that helped lessen the mood of the day. By the time we closed, I was wrung out from the tension of looking at the backdoor, waiting for it to open and for Rafael to enter the café. I knew it wasn’t likely but I kept looking for him nonetheless.
James slid down the banister of the stairs like I used to do when I lived at ‘House of Figs’. Though he was only young in human form, he had remarkable dexterity owing to his fast maturity as a dragon.
“It’s rather like having a giraffe for a baby.” Eustace scooped James into his arms and tickled him. “They’re on their feet within an hour of being born and then you spend the rest of your life making sure they don’t get into mischief.”
“Oh my goodness…he’s not a father for a month and he’s already sounding like an old man.” Bastian snorted.
“Compared to the rest of you, I am old.” Eustace looked up at Jet. “Did he run you ragged?”
“Actually, we had a pretty good time.” Jet admitted. “Faelan might need to check the plants to make sure we didn’t drown any of them…”
“You’re good at watering the plants, aren’t you?” Eustace lifted James up and the little boy squealed in delight. “Not so good at absorbing excess moisture. We’ll figure that one out.”
“Are you going home?” I asked quietly.
“Well,” Eustace faltered, “with the new eggs appearing and my being this so called ‘lord’ and protector…”
“It’s okay,” I insisted, “you have responsibilities outside of ‘House of Figs’.”
Eustace cringed. “I would prefer to stay to look after you.”
“I’d prefer it if you looked after those baby dragons. They’re the vulnerable ones.”
Eustace sighed and nodded. “Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow. I think I’m getting the hang of making coffee.”
“There’s nothing like the sharp learning curve of jumping in the deep end.” Bastian slapped him on the shoulder. “Go, Eustace. We got this.”
“You need to go too.” I told the werewolf.
“But my princess…”
“Alte Fehde needs you…and you didn’t tell me how it went with Armin and Gwen?”
Bastian sat his backside on the back of a chair, his feet on the seat. “Well, if she was a werewolf, they’d be mates already.”
“They’re that in love?”
“I’d say stupidly head over heels.” Bastian shrugged. “But they are a werewolf and a human…and there’s no real guiding light for them to follow.” He paused. “I did think about suggesting that they make the old bastion liveable again and take up residence there. It’s closer to the humans and less…wild than Befest.”
“What’s the problem?” It was nice to talk about other people’s lives. It helped distract me from my own.
“Selfishness really. I’d hate to lose him from Befest.” Bastian sighed. “And then there’s the attitude of the humans. One grand gesture isn’t enough to undo years of raping, murdering and pillaging.”
“Same goes for the werewolves really.”
“True.” He slipped off the chair and pushed it into place. “However, my immediate concern is your safety.”
“You and Eustace have lives and responsibilities beyond ‘House of Figs’.” I urged him to understand or at least understand that I understood. “Faelan and Rob are pretty much permanent residents here. I have them to protect me…not that I honestly think he’ll be back.”
“Part of me wanted him to stick his nose through his door,” Bastian cracked his knuckles, “I even thought about hunting him down in his world.”
“Don’t lose yourself in a vendetta on my behalf. Faelan healed me. I’m fine.”
Bastian leaned close to me, his amber eyes warm and tender. “I will believe that when you lose that haunted look in your expression.”
“I just need a good night’s sleep.” I gave him a little shove. “Go. Be the werewolf alpha.”
Bastian left reluctantly, passing Faelan as he went. They spoke softly to each other, Faelan striding into the café.
“How about a drink?” He asked.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been hiding your barista skills?”
“I could brew a passable coffee should I be required to do so,” Faelan admitted, “however, I have another drink in mind, one that will help you sleep.” He went behind the counter and began to concoct his goodnight’s sleep drink.
I turned to Jet. “They’re all so determined to protect me.”
“Is that so unbelievable?” Jet asked and I shook my head. “You should probably go to bed.”
“I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.” I admitted. “Do you think you could stay and watch a movie with me?”
“Sure.” We climbed the stairs together.
“What did Gary say when you came home this morning? Did he know you stayed out last night?”
Jet cleared his throat and tugged on his collar. “Pops said, ‘if you’re gonna start spending the night, make sure you take protection’.”
“Protection against…oh…” I blushed hard. “Ah…”
“I did think about telling him the truth but it’s kind of hard to explain vampiric behaviour.”
“I suppose so.” I looked at him. “Sorry.”
Jet shrugged. “He wasn’t discouraging me from coming over.”
“I know but now he thinks…” I closed my eyes. “I’ll deal with that another day.”
“Let’s go spend all evening debating about what movie to watch so that we never get around to it.”
We did end up choosing a movie and by the time the credits rolled around, my eyelids were drooping and my body was heavy from Faelan’s drink. If Jet hadn’t been there, I might have curled up on the lounge but I rallied myself to go to bed.
“Do you want me to stay?”
I paused. Part of me did. Part of me wanted him to stay more than anything. But I was frightened now that the subject of sex had come up. It wasn’t that we had or were going to…but I had kind of put Jet into a safe category and last night it was the furthest temptation from my mind.
It had been said, now.
I didn’t know what it meant to me or to Jet.
I rubbed my arm and looked aside. “I…I don’t want to ruin your reputation.”
Jet snorted. “With who? I only know you, the guys and Pops. There were some dirty looks this morning when they found out I’d spent the night in your bed but even Bastian admitted it would have been cruel not to stay.”
“What about Gary?”
“What? His useless, lazy grandson finally getting a girlfriend?” Jet shrugged. “He’s equal parts protective and thrilled.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Not that I’m claiming you’re my girlfriend…that’s just what he’s come up with…” Now we were both awkward. I didn’t know where to look and Jet jigged briefly on his feet. “There’s your reputation too…”
“I’m already living in the same house as several guys,” I blurted, “it’s not as if I’ve been a beacon of restraint.”
“Really?”
I gulped and hugged my arms around myself. “I…I mean…I haven’t…not with any one of them…”
Jet pushed his hand through his hair. “It’s got awkward, hasn’t it?”
“A bit.”
We both seemed preoccupied with our feet.
“Forget what other people think we’re doing,” Jet swallowed, “do you want me to stay?” I nodded. “Then I’ll stay.”
He acted like a perfect gentleman, keeping to his side of the bed and only reaching out to hold my hand when tears trickled down my cheeks. I didn’t mean to cry. It was like I’d been punctured and continued to leak. Not even Faelan’s divine light could heal my wounded soul.
The next night I insisted I was alright to be by myself. It was a frightening thing to be alone in my bedroom. I’d gotten used to the company so quickly. I knew I had Faelan or Rob to call out to. Faelan kept a night vigil on the Observatory in case Rafael made an appearance.
But he didn’t show his face.
Not once.
The door to his world remained tightly closed.
Conversation moved on to other topics.
No one really wanted to look at the absence of Rafael, in either a positive or negative light.
We just kept going.
Outwardly I looked fine. I might not have been effervescent, but I was a lot better than the first harrowing day.
Inwardly, however, I could feel myself withering.
It was as though the greedy incantation that swallowed up life had gotten inside of me and was gnawing at my spirit and soul.
I didn’t know if I was fooling anyone.
But when the next day that ‘House of Figs’ was closed and the guys began to discuss all the things they were going to do, I began to plan my move.
All the guys, except Rob of course, returned to their worlds to attend to matters and spend time with family. They only did so because Rob insisted he would keep an eye on me.
The next day, when the café was enjoying the quiet reprieve from customers, I asked Rob if he would mind visiting Aunt Jo in the hospital.
“Query, are you not feeling well, Bethany St James?”
“I’m just a little tired.” I said truthfully. I hadn’t slept well since that terrible night.
“I am uninclined to leave you on your own.”
“I know. I’ll call Jet and ask him to come over.” I smiled as reassuringly as I could. “Please, Rob. I will be fine for an hour.”
“Very well.”
I waved him off from the veranda then slipped inside and locked the door. I’d made Rob a key so I knew he could get back in if he needed to. I went upstairs, put on jeggings, boots, tank top, a long sleeve shirt and then I picked up the white coat Rafael had given me for my birthday. It slipped on, immediately hugging me with its warmth. I grabbed my matching scarf, gloves and beanie, left a note for Rob then headed out the back of ‘House of Figs’.
“I’m not living like this anymore.” I muttered as I entered the Observatory, facing the one door I hadn’t been through. “I’m going to save Aunt Jo and I’m not going to let this fear imprison me.”
Despite my pep talk and determination, my hand shook as I reached out for the wall of bookshelves. I gently pressed into it and the door clicked slightly open. A few seconds later I braved clutching at the edge and drawing it fully open.
It was cold.
I knew, from Rafael’s description, that his world suffered endless winter.
It didn’t make the cold breath that enveloped me any easier to bear.
I thought I’d be able to handle it after enduring a mountainous winter but a slight scattering of snow dashed across the threshold, warning me just how icy the world beyond was.
The door led into a boring alley, small piles of snow here and there against stone walls. It was unremarkable and not at all explicit about the type of world I was heading into.
I checked the backside of the door, seeing the waterfall that Rafael had mentioned engraved into the wood. There was no envelope or sign that Aunt Jo had left anything there for me. I knew Rafael had said he’d looked but I didn’t know what to think about his efforts after his assault. I needed to look for myself.
I shut the door and walked down the alley, my breath coming out in short, white puffy bursts. Only my face was exposed and even that I tried to cover up with the beanie pulled low and my scarf pulled high. The snow crunched beneath my feet and where it wasn’t underfoot, my boots knocked on cobblestone.
I looked back several times at the door, seeing it rest comfortably and quietly at the far end of the alley. It seemed to be at the base of a large tower that was easily five stories high with strange cogs and gears threaded through it. Sticking out from the very top were two platforms like swords pointing outwards. Even as I approached the mouth of the alley, one of them passed overhead, casting me in shade for a few minutes before moving on. Not that there was much sunlight. It seemed to be hidden behind a constant curtain of icy fog.
As I emerged from the alley, I discovered there was a main street curving in a great big arc around, what I guessed was, the centre of the city. There were shops, beautifully decorated buildings with architecture that reminded me of Venice, Victorian England and Paris all rolled into one. The curved street had arches over the top with icicles hanging from their underside, glistening and frosted. There were decorative grates in the street, staring down at ice and snow beneath and the odd bridge here and there over sunken channels. There was a magical feel to the city even though the colours were drab. It seemed to be little more than grey and white.
Even the people had a greyish tinge to them. There were plenty of them, bustling about on the street, going here and there with bags in their hands yet I couldn’t shake the impression of a blanket of sadness that smothered the city.
“Perhaps it’s the snow.” I mused.
I took note of the store opposite to where the alley had ended. It was a lingerie store of all things. The rather suggestive items in the window made the wooden models they were on look cold. I wanted to find a shawl or blanket to put around their wooden shoulders.
I thought about checking the store for a hidden note but it seemed the last place that Aunt Jo would go into. In light of Rafael’s attack, I had begun to hope that I’d find the haiku clue somewhere close to the door and he, in his defiance, hadn’t told us about it or hadn’t even bothered to look. But once I’d seen the empty alley for myself and the lack of any good hiding places, I began to wonder if I’d discredited him unkindly.
I rubbed my neck where the marks were just a bad memory.
“I think there’s enough blame without adding a fictional one to it.” I murmured. “Aunt Jo…where is it?”
As I walked along the street, cautious about attracting attention yet blending in surprisingly well, a loud bell rang out across the city. The ground trembled with its chime and I clung to the wall closest to me, feeling the pulse through the very stone. Above I saw that the two arms of the tower were aligned together.
“It’s a clock.” I gasped, staring at the tower and the hands. “It’s a giant clock! The hands pass over the city, telling the time. That’s crazy!”
It was then that I noticed the streets were emptying. People were heading to the pavement as if they expected a parade to pass by. I was already against the wall and held my place, wishing I could run back to the alley but recognised that any movement I made would be plainly obvious as everyone stood like statues. I copied their stance, standing still with my head down.
The clocktower’s chime had long since petered out and the air was quiet again but no one was moving. In the silence, I heard the sound of chanting.
“In service, I do pledge to Queen Catina, dark mother of Atannica, empress divine of Engaland. My life I give to thee, my blood runs freely for my liege. In service, I do pledge to Queen Catina…”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Because of the curve of the street, I didn’t see the procession until it passed one of the arches. Children were running in front of the parade, throwing blood red petals onto the ground. They looked like drops of blood on the snow. Four strong men carried a litter atop their shoulders and a man sat perched upon a mini throne, laughing and gesturing to us with the staff in his hand as if we were cheering him on. But there was no such interaction. It was as if the entertainment was all in his head. He wore ridiculous heels and white socks to his knees, pantaloons in black and gold with a matching jacket and a cravat that was so luscious, it would have made French Royalty look dowdy. His black hair was scooped into several loops from the top of his head to a tail tied with a red bow at the back.
Behind the procession were a number of men and women, although the women far outnumbered the men. They were the ones chanting over and over the same words. I had gathered enough courage to peek from my humble stance and saw a woman from the other side of the street step from the curb, out of her partner’s grasp and join the procession, immediately beginning to chant.
The head of the procession passed by me and I held my breath, inexplicably terrified of the forced event and the man’s inappropriate merriment when it was clear none of us were celebrating with him.
“Wait, wait, wait!” He cried just as he was about to reach the next arch. “Hold everything.”
The procession stopped. The man sniffed then fanned himself.
“What…is that divine smell?” He stood up and his litter carriers knelt so that he could dismount, stepping on their shoulders with his cruel heels. He had no interest in their discomfort, sniffing wildly, dashing from side to side, like a game of ‘hot and cold’ but with a smell hiding. “I can smell it…it’s like…oh it’s like…fine wine from the hidden valley…sweet…hot…forbidden…where are you my little smell? Where is this divine delicacy hiding?”
To my horror his dancing toes brought him closer and closer, his nose darting through the air.
“I can smell you…” I wanted to recoil or run but I remained frozen, knowing instinctively that he was hunting for me. He went to walk past then his staff whipped out, pointing towards my position. “Not you,” he said, smacking the person in front of me aside on the arm, “not you…not you…” He grabbed a man’s collar and drew him down, inhaling the scent of his neck, his eyes fluttering. Then they opened and locked onto me. “You…” He breathed. “My, my, my…wherever did you come from?”
I was petrified he was going to insist on an answer for a moment but he seemed more interested in his find than where it came from. He grasped my arm and drew me onto the street.
“Like a warm day in Spring…like the heat of two lovers in the hay…oh yes…” He bit the bottom of his lip then ran his tongue along his teeth, sharpened and vampiric. “Come…sit.”
“Oh…I…”
His grasp was sharp and had I not gone willingly, I suspected he would have dragged me to the litter.
“Sit.” He said, his eyes conveying a dangerous warning.
I did so, clinging on tightly as the litter was raised up. The man seemed utterly overjoyed to have given up his seat, skipping and laughing, his merriment so fragile and harsh I desperately wanted to smash it. But I could do nothing except allow the litter bearers to carry me around the clocktower. As we went, I spied the alley where the door was hidden. A sob escaped my throat. I couldn’t reach it. I couldn’t let them know about it and there was no way I’d make it without possibly breaking a leg leaping down.
We passed the alley and kept going round to the far side where a palace had been built against a giant wall of ice. The building was as cold as the icicles hanging from the cliff edge in back of it. It wasn’t as though it lacked grandeur yet it was not at all welcoming with its gargoyles hissing from every pinnacle, balustrade, parapet, tower and carved figureheads glaring down at us as we approached the front doors. I didn’t think there was a single flat or solid piece of rooftop larger than a washing basket. The detail was extraordinary but also overwhelming. It was dizzying to look at and I couldn’t think of where to start when the portico, too small a name for such a grand entrance, came into view.
There was a single giant stained glass window above the doors of a dark haired woman who had ribbons of red flowing from her hands with a little girl nestled at her feet. On either side were two more windows. One had a young man who would have been remarkably handsome except for the cruel look in his eyes that I hoped the artist who had created the window had misinterpreted.
On the other, was a window depicting Rafael.
His glassy eyes seemed to follow me and I cringed, knowing I’d made a catastrophic error and a mess of things.
The procession behind the litter had grown to at least three dozen women and a handful of men. I expected to be asked to get down but the little dancing many with the wind up, clockwork joy about him, insisted that the bearers carry me through the doors into the covered courtyard. Ravens scattered at our approach, their black feathers stark against the snow.
“Gently, gently…” The man cried and offered his hand to me. I could think of no way not to take it and he led me off the litter. “Come my beauties…the time draws nigh…”
We were taken inside the palace and to my dismay, it seemed even colder inside than it was outside. From the main foyer we were taken up a main flight of stairs and then another. I was trembling.
“There, there, my precious darling,” the man giggled, “fear not.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” I whispered.
“I knew it,” he looked at me with glassy, beady eyes, “you’re from another realm, aren’t you?” I didn’t answer, so terrified was I at giving something critical away. “Oh, speak not my precious dove for I knew it the moment I smelt you.” His eyes fluttered. “You…are a gift.”
“For who?”
“Whoever takes your fancy.” He chuckled. “Who knows, you might even turn the raven haired second prince’s head.”
In a long, carpeted hallway, with statues of birds in twisted, contorted forms of flight down the middle, a dark skinned man with eyes like two pieces of charcoal glowered at us, another half dozen strongmen standing in a line behind him.
“Have they been searched?” His voice was so deep it felt like it was coming from the storey beneath us.
“Grigore, how dull you make these proceedings…”
“You know Queen Catina’s command, Petre…”
“Very well,” the man who I guessed was Petre, waved his hand in an affected manner, “have your men search…but leave me this one.” Petre pulled me aside as Grigore and his men moved forward. I noticed that the men and women who joined the procession expected the search, holding out their clothes, allowing hands to move all over their bodies. I grew quite hot at the fondling. “I told you,” Petre whispered into my ear, “fear not…” He stepped back and opened my coat, appraising my appearance. “You aren’t hiding a weapon, are you?”
“Of course not!” I blurted without thinking the answer through.
“I didn’t think so.” Petre sighed. “But that won’t do for Grigore and unless you want him to grope you with those big hands of his…” He stepped forward and I closed my eyes. His flitting little hands darted over my body in an oddly clinical way, never lasting too long to become uncomfortable. “Are you satisfied, Grigore?”
“Are you finished, little bloodhound?”
“I smell you…slave…” Petre’s voice became thin and sharp, as though he was looking for a place to stab Grigore who just stared at him, taller by at least two heads but Petre wasn’t afraid. “To the throne room…to pay homage to our glorious queen!”
We had turned around so many times in the palace I was completely lost but when the doors to the throne room opened, bright light coloured by the stained panels of glass at the far end told me exactly where I was. The giant window at the front of the palace was the backdrop for Queen Catina’s throne. It was like a halo around the throne which looked alarmingly familiar. The throne was designed to look like a waterfall, almost exactly as it was depicted on the door to my world. However, seeing it designed and coloured I realised it wasn’t a waterfall…it was a bloodfall.
There were more contorted statues of ravens all around the arch the throne rested beneath, some bursting out of the wall, others tearing at each other in the floor and the resin of red that formed streams of blood from the bloodfall throne, trickled down the steps and cross the floor, pouring into and decorating two deep circular sunken lounges. They were as large as a decent sized home hot tub, lined with plush, brocade fabric in black and red. The whole room was themed in the two colours and I was suddenly aware that my white coat stuck out like a sore thumb.
However, I wasn’t inclined to shed it despite the overwhelming heat of the room, generated by two large fireplaces. I couldn’t see the flames and suspected they were the same as the ones that had burned in the basins at my picnic birthday party. The others with me were removing their coats but I shrank back as Petre finally let go of my arm. Not that I could have made a run for it. The doors we’d entered through were barred by Grigore and his burly thugs.
Petre walked to the empty throne, standing between the two sunken lounges and knelt, spreading his arms upwards.
“Dark mother, empress divine…we welcome you in this place and offer our lives for your fulfillment, may your reign be as eternal as you are.” He stood after his reverent display. “Bow before your queen!”
I did so with all the others I stood with. Some, who had pushed their way to the front of our group, prostrated themselves. All our eyes were lowered and there wasn’t a sound to be heard. In the silence I heard robes swish and move and the loud click of heels across the floor.
“Your majesty…we bask in your shadow and bleed for you alone.” Petre announced. “Rise and pay homage to Queen Catina!”
Those who were prostrated stood up and those who were bowing straightened. I followed their motions as they turned their head to the right, exposing the left side of our necks…where I’d been bitten. In the brief time that my head was up and as I turned it, I got a glimpse of Catina.
She was beautiful.
Her face held an elegant symmetry that was almost perfection except for a light dimple in her left cheek as her lips, blood red, formed a pleased curve without showing her teeth. Her eyebrows were thick but not dark, arcing over her almond shaped eyes. Her hair was black like a raven’s and drawn back sharply into an impossible style of braided and coiled strands, forming an almost four leaf clover emblem behind her head. Embedded in her hair was a crown of red spikes. Her gown was black and red, allowing her pale, beautiful face to shine. I was nearly distracted by staring at her and quickly turned my head, holding the pose until I could feel my neck ache.
“I am pleased.” Her voice was smooth and honeyed, almost sickly sweet…as though it was hiding poison somewhere within its tempting taste.
“Presenting Princess Adela, the fair eternal.”
Where Catina was pale and striking with her black hair and red lips, Adela was a golden beacon of light. She reminded me of what Shirley Temple looked like as a child, a mane of golden curls tied with bows and in the prettiest, frilliest dresses imaginable. She was only eleven perhaps with big, beautiful blue eyes and pink lips. She almost skipped into the throne room, holding a doll in her hands. She sat at her mother’s feet, undisturbed by the violent and unsettling décor.
“Presenting the first Prince of Catina, Aurelius, the first drawn blood.”
Aurelius didn’t have the decency to be ugly. He strode into the room, over six foot tall, rippling with a chiselled jaw and cheek bones, adorned with blue eyes, crowned with wavy hair, as gold as his sister’s. He was sure of himself, bold and confident in a black high collar jacket with red lacing down the sleeves. It was undone across his chest, a red shirt beneath and his pants were black too with more lacing down the outside legs.
“Presenting the second Prince of Catina, Rafael, the shadow in the blood.”
I held my breath as Rafael walked in from the opposite side of the room to his mother, sister and brother. His hair was down, hanging straight around his face, the ends dipped in red, soaking it to a third of the way up. He wore a frilly white shirt smothered in a black jacket and waistcoat. He stood with his family at the front of the throne room, his eyes staring out of his cold, dull expression.
“Your Majesty,” Petre grovelled, “your people stand before you, willing and eager. We offer ourselves up to your bounty and beneficence.”
Queen Catina smiled and lightly flicked her fingers which seemed to signal the release of the formalities.
“I do hope you’ve got some half decent offerings today.” Aurelius said sharply, removing his jacket which a servant took from him.
“Of course, my prince.” Petre bowed then scurried back to where we were standing. For all his attention before, he seemed intentionally avoiding me now. “Ladies, should you please Aurelius, you will join his harem and never want for anything ever again. You will also be allowed to send money to your families that they may share in the condescension of the first prince of Engaland.
Several women stepped forward. Petre looked them over with a critical eye. “You, you and you…go and attend the prince.”
The women immediately went towards the sunken lounge on the right and stood, awaiting instruction.
“Prince Rafael?” Petre asked.
Rafael waved his hand. “You know what I want.”
“Yes, my prince.” Petre bowed and came back to the group of volunteers. “Where is she…”
“I am here.” A woman with curling dark brown hair and wearing an open necked red gown with a black under bust corset pushing up her bosom to almost scandalous exposure.
“Attend the prince.” Petre peered through the volunteers and pointed to several of the men. “You will be permitted to attend the queen. Stand ready for her gracious favour.” The men moved away and the crowd around me continued to shrink. I cowered further back, watching the horrible scene unfold before my eyes.
Aurelius removed his red shirt, exposing his muscular chest and stretched his arms, his trousers sitting low on his hips. He stepped into the sunken lounge and reclined against its side. “You,” he pointed at one of the women, “come.” She bowed her head and stepped into the lounge. She was trembling. Aurelius leaned forward and spoke almost kindly. “Is this your first time?” She nodded. “I do love the pulse of a virgin’s veins…” His kindness vanished as he grasped her wrist and dragged her down to him, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, exposing her neck. I clamped my eyes shut, my whole body shaking as I heard a sharp hiss and the woman cried out. I felt like I was going to be sick as I heard her crying.
“Take this one to my harem…and for heavens sake, shut her up. I can’t stand weepers.”
I felt a hand on my arm and looked up.
“Calm yourself,” Grigore’s dark eyes bored into me, “your blood is pulsing…you will not escape attention if you do not calm.”
He held me up, my knees trying to give way. I hid at the very back, hoping to avoid detection and that Petre, in his self-flagellation before his queen, would forget all about me.
“Come along, brother,” Aurelius ordered, “before I take your one away.”
Against my better judgement I peeked at Rafael. He had removed his jacket but left his shirt on and sat in the sunken lounge. The woman who had offered herself to him sat by his side, caressing him almost intimately. My skin was flaming in embarrassment but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“She is always so eager to serve you,” Aurelius taunted, licking his bloodied lips, “I’d happily have such a one in my harem…perhaps she tastes better than my other whores.”
Rafael’s face was like death. He stared ahead, his jaw as tight as a string on a bow, drawn to its limit. The woman, not content with her fondling, straddled Rafael’s lap and drew her hair aside. Rafael’s blue eyes dilated and I saw in that heartbeat, the same look that he’d given me…right before he’d sunk his fangs into my neck.
Rafael looked at the woman with a strange, beaten reluctance. I thought he was going to resist. I thought he was going to remain strong.
Then he opened his jaw, hissing as his fangs were exposed and bit her neck. I collapsed, hiding my face, my heart out of control and my hand clapped over my neck. The pounding between my ears was too much. It was driving me insane.
“What is that aroma I smell?” Aurelius’ voice cut through the thick atmosphere like a hot knife through butter. “Of fields and rain, of sun and earth…of rich meats and succulent vegetables so ripe I could squeeze them of every last drop…”
“Stay…still…” Grigore’s voice was hushed and low. I couldn’t stop shaking.
“Are you holding out on me, Petre?”
“My prince, I only wish to serve…”
“Grovelling little parasite…”
I thought I could remain hidden in the heated exchange of words but a hand grabbed my arm, pinching it like their fingers were made out of shards of glass and I was dragged with obscene strength out from the crowd, exposed on the floor of the throne room.
“I found it!” The Princess Adela declared. “It is she!”
There was a long, horrible silence.
“Well, well, well…”
“No, no my lord,” Petre’s irritating voice increasing to a high pitched whine, “this is my special gift to her majesty!”
“You know my mother prefers the blood of males…you were going to keep her for yourself, weren’t you?”
“I swear, dark mother divine, I swear I was keeping her for you!”
The silence was so heavy, it kept me crushed to the ground.
“Bade her to rise,” Catina’s voice, poisonous and sweet, stained the silence, “but taste her not.”
If I thought Adela’s grip was cruel, Aurelius’ was like being held by the devil. He dragged me up to my feet and tore my white coat off so hard I nearly cried out. His hand gripped my throat and he leaned in close, twisting my head so that he could smell my neck.
“Oh…she is ripe…so…desperate…I can sense her blood trying to escape…” Aurelius’ eyes were heavily dilated and his breath was hot. “Mother,” he said, his voice deepening, “let me have her.”
Suddenly he screeched and dropped me. A hand grasped my shoulder, dragging me backwards and the lean form of Rafael stood in front.
“Don’t you dare…”
Aurelius touched his cheek, a thin line of blood across his handsome features.
“I saw her first.” He said, his fangs appearing.
“No.”
Aurelius’ eyes darkened and he turned to Catina. “Mother!”
Rafael looked to her as well but said nothing.
Catina’s eyes watched the exchange, her red lips almost pasted permanently in her knowing, bloody smile.
“I am intrigued.” She lifted her chin and for a moment I thought I saw a strange line around her neck. “My second son to be so…eager…”
“By rights she is mine!” Aurelius roared, stamping his foot.
Suddenly Catina’s face contorted into a vampiric snarl and Aurelius recoiled, his expression still hard but his posture, grovelling.
“I reign supreme,” Catina hissed, “it is by my rule that you are afforded any rights at all!” Her rage was in terrible contrast to her tranquillity of only seconds before.
“Yes mother.”
Catina sank back into her throne. She didn’t seem interested in me at all. Her eyes fluttered from Rafael to Aurelius.
“Mother,” Adela said in a giggly, girlie voice that was wholly inappropriate to the mood, “shall we play a game?”
“A game?” Catina smiled. “What kind of game?”
“To the blood?”
Catina’s fingers with her long black nails drifted across her cheek and lips.
“Anything for you, my precious doll.” She turned to her sons. “To the blood.”
Aurelius huffed as if what she had suggested was inconsequential and turned away, taking something from Petre who had appeared behind him. Rafael turned towards me and I couldn’t decide whether to slap him or apologise or run and in the end, I did nothing.
“My prince,” Petre offered a small blade in a short hilt to him, “your weapon.”
Rafael swallowed and unbuttoned his shirt. He removed it, twisting to drop it into the sunken lounge. I couldn’t restrain my horror. His back was scored with scar lines, overlapping many, many times. There were long scars, short ones and marks like something had been driven in. Rafael took the blade and caught my gaze.
“Stay back.” He warned and moved to face Aurelius.
“To the blood.” Queen Catina smiled, all torment removed from her features as her mask of calm was back in place.
Before the last syllable rang out, Aurelius lunged. He thrust himself at Rafael with the speed of a bullet leaving a gun but Rafael had anticipated his move, sliding to the side and slashing in the space where Aurelius had been. Aurelius had leapt into the air and came down with blow that would have shattered Rafael’s spine had he not moved at the last second.
I had thought the battle between two werewolves was fast.
In comparison, they’d been moving in slow motion.
Werewolves also fought with their hands, their claws and legs.
The duel between Rafael and Aurelius was lightning fast and clinical, like a deadly dance, choreographed and well practiced. Every move could only be answered with another, each prince driven towards a final end result that was already known.
And with that many scars on Rafael’s back, I knew who had won in the past.
Aurelius lashed out, catching Rafael’s arm. He leapt back and we all looked. There was a cruel gash but no blood.
Adela clapped her hands in delight.
“No blood, no blood…”
“Not gorging myself finally paid off.” Rafael taunted his brother.
“You’re not worthy to be called a vampire!” Aurelius snarled and launched himself at Rafael who slipped sideways, turning and rammed the blade into Aurelius’ back. Aurelius spun around and glowered at Rafael.
“Pull it out.” Rafael demanded.
Aurelius’ face was ugly with hate.
“Remove the blade.” Catina ordered.
Petre, probably enjoying a moment to exact a little of his own vengeance, yanked the blade out of Aurelius’ back and a trickle of blood poured out of the wound. Aurelius put his hand against his chest, wheezing and staggered to his knees.
“To the blood.” Rafael said darkly over him.
“You think she’s safe?” Aurelius taunted. “The moment your back is turned…I’ll make her mine so that she’ll never be any good to you again.”
“Enough.” Catina stood up. “Bring her to me.”
Petre ushered me forward, Rafael turning in surprise.
“But…”
“Hush.” Catina held up her hand then studied me, her soft brown eyes grazing over my features. “Strange…the hold you have over my son…the violence he is capable of…” Her fingers scraped the skin of my neck. I couldn’t stop shaking. “You will be his making…or his undoing…”
“Mother,” Rafael’s voice was strained, “I won the duel. She is mine!”
“All children of Engaland are my blood,” Catina said without looking at him, “by rights, she is mine...if she is worthy and in celebration of my five hundred year reign…she may yet become my daughter. Adela would like an older sister, wouldn’t you my doll?”
“Oh mother, may I?”
Catina’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. “I am so very…very thirsty…” She waved her hand. “Put her in Adela’s chambers. Those who guard the door can be trusted.”
I gulped as Grigore grabbed my arms and began to march me out of the throne room. Rafael’s expression was stricken and Aurelius’ was filled with lustful rage.
“And know this,” Catina’s voice carried to us as we left, “should either of my sons have their way with her…they will find out that, when you are immortal, pain can last for all eternity...”
I was marched down a long corridor, taken to a set of double doors where two men stood guard and placed inside the room. I spun to face Grigore.
“Please…” I begged. “I have to get out of here.”
His eyes were sad. “You may yet survive this night…do not turn your back on the girl.”
With that he closed the door, leaving me to the pretty bedchamber of Adela. A four poster bed dominated the room, the linen, carpet and décor all done in pinks and creams. It was hopelessly girlie. There were ornate doll houses, which were more like palaces and fancier than most people’s real homes and teddy bears sitting at tables with a picnic in front of them. It should have been a quaint place to wait but the atmosphere was macabre, like a beautiful apple hiding a rotten core.
As I got closer to the teddy bear picnic, I saw that sharpened white teeth had been added to their mouths and the liquid in their cups was red. Some of the doll houses had burnt out rooms with the charred remains of dolls inside of them while in others, the dolls were arranged in scandalous poses, far beyond the knowledge that any eleven year old girl ought to possess.
I shivered hard, the air so cold after the furnace of the throne room and went to the fireplace. The fire was again, difficult to see but I could feel its heat. Like a great many things in Engaland, there was danger lurking that you couldn’t see. I tried to distract myself with looking at things in the room but was terrified of finding more depravity within. Even the portrait of Queen Catina and her daughter above the mantle had an artificial quality to it, like Adela’s smile had been scratched into the paint by the artist because the little girl wouldn’t smile for the painting.
I stepped back, frightened of the gaze of the painting when my foot connected with something. I looked down. There was a doll half hidden by the drape of the bed, dressed like a queen with pins sticking out of it, some of them rammed in deep to the stitched eyes and I spied a jagged cut around the queen’s neck that had been sewn shut.
“What’s wrong with this child?” I whispered, caught between the demonic looking painting and the voodoo queen doll. It was a house of horrors. I yearned for something warm, something wholesome…something I could trust. Even the lace on the bedlinen looked like it had skulls embroidered into its weave although I might have simply be seeing darkness and danger wherever I looked by then.
Then I spied a doll on the bed. It had wooden face, neck, hands and feet and a soft body dressed in a nice, almost Victorian London suit in blue. It was sitting against a pillow with a little girl doll beside it in the same design. The girl doll was in a plain dress and judging by the size difference, I guessed the boy doll to be the little girl doll’s father.
In the opulent and grotesque surroundings, the two dolls were innocent and plain.
I wanted to pick them up but the doors opened and I sprang back.
Adela stood in the opening, her fingers stroking the hair of the doll in her hands. Her eyes held mine as she continued to pet her doll…then her fingers tightened on the doll’s head and she twisted it, yanking it from the body. She entered the room, the doors closing behind her and stared at me, deathly serious without a shred of innocent or softness in her expression.
“I watched two starving wolves fight over a carcass once,” she said coldly, “they killed each other rather than suffer the other to have the rotting corpse. That’s how mother is going to use you…to set my brothers alight with lust and rage.” She studied me. “You are so plain…so…ordinary. What do you possess that gets beneath Rafael’s skin?”
I shuddered as she came closer, her blue eyes scratching deep gouges in me.
“Aurelius would use you then toss you aside but Rafael is desperate…which has made him vulnerable to my mother’s whims…and while it would amuse me to watch them fight over you…I’d rather watch my mother rage.” She walked to the fireplace and pressed a small detail of the engraved moulding that arched over the top of it. The fire in the hearth shifted and turned, a gap appearing in the floor with a staircase leading down.
Adela held out her hands and dropped the head and body of the doll into the darkness. I heard them bounce all the way down. Then she looked at me.
“It’s a disused servant’s passage. I know it leads outside if you follow it for long enough.” I stared at her, stunned. “Go…before my mother comes and turns you into my sister just to spite my brother.” Adela smiled and horror shivered my spine. “He could be your lover temporarily or your brother for all eternity…”
I darted for the stairs, holding onto the edge as I began to descend. I looked at Adela when I reached her height.
“What will happen to you? Your mother will be furious.”
Adela’s big, blue eyes suddenly filled with tears and she grasped the edge of her skirt.
“She’s gone, mother! My big sister is gone! I was so looking forward to playing with her and sharing my toys but now she’s gone!” Her sobs were so gut wrenching I nearly abandoned my flight to comfort her when she brushed away the tears, her face settled into scathing boredom. “I think I can handle my mother.”
I didn’t look back. I descended into the darkness and heard the hearth close over the top of my head. There was no light. Nothing to guide my way. Just one blind step after another, inching down, down into the darkness, my right hand pressed against the wall as there seemed to be no wall on my left. Every step was excruciatingly slow. I couldn’t see what was ahead and had to creep forward, terrified that the passage would simply end.
And then it did.
There was nothing in front of me and nothing around me. The stairs simply stopped.
I stood in the black, hearing nothing more than my quickening breathing and had to slow it down before I lost myself in panic. I took an earring out and dropped it. There was only a split second before a light clink told me that the ground wasn’t far away.
I sat on the lowest step, my legs dangling and tried to reach the ground but couldn’t find it. I twisted and slid off, stretched my toes out yet couldn’t reach the ground. Finally, desperately, I lowered my body off the edge of the steps, bracing myself with my elbows and for a scant second, I though my toes scraped something. If the steps hadn’t given way, it would have taken me several long seconds for me to gather the courage to drop but the stone was old and all my weight was on it. I dropped, jarring my legs, striking a surface that was bulbous and lumpy. It was also desperately cold but, to my unending delight, there was a sliver of light from a passage where the steps continued to lead towards. Had I known they were there, I could have jumped the broken gap to them but as it was, I hadn’t injured myself in the fall although I couldn’t fathom what I had landed on. It was like being in a ball pit, wading through a surface that shifted and rolled.
When I reached the passage I discovered I’d kicked several of the weird balls out of the pit and picked one up. It was a mouldy, bald head of a doll with one eye missing and the other half blinkered.
I felt a shriek building up inside of me as I dropped it and turned, seeing the pit in the faint light…filled with the dismembered heads and bodies of countless dolls.
I clapped my hand over my mouth, my shrieks smothered as best I could as I bolted from that awful space. The passage twisted and turned and at the end there was a grate. I ended up ankle deep in frigid water in order to throw my weight against the grate but it gave way and I clambered out, emerging in a frost bitten, haunted garden that existed to the side of the palace. I ran for the gate, my toes screaming at the chill of the water and opened it, finding I was out of the palace grounds and in the city.
I was about to heave a sigh of relief when I heard a loud bell chime. It wasn’t the deep, resounding bong of the clock tower. It was an alarm.
“Prisoner escaping.” I breathed. “I’ve got to get back to the door!”
I didn’t give the pain I was in any room to slow me down. I just ran as fast as I could, heading for the large curved arch of the main thoroughfare and jogging along it, hunting wildly for the stores along the far side, searching for the lingerie shop front. Some people looked at me funnily but most kept their heads bowed. I was breathless when I finally found my landmark and turned down the alley. The door was dark at the other end so I wasn’t alarmed until I got close.
Then my soul seemed to freeze.
The door wasn’t there.
There was a door but it was not the right one. It was locked and it had a bell to ring to open it.
“No, no, no…” I whispered. “Maybe…maybe I got it wrong?” I ran back down the alley and stared at the lingerie store. It was exactly where it was supposed to be. I was in the right alley. I turned and stared back down it, confused and baffled and desperate. “Where did it go?”
I pushed my hands through my hair, unable to think past the panic in my head. I turned on the spot and saw two of Grigore’s men coming towards me.
Immediately I turned and went to run in the opposite direction but from behind were another two.
I whimpered and bolted down the alley. The door remained hatefully shut. I rang the bell and banged on it to no avail. I twisted and saw, in the frame of the mouth of the alley, bodies coming towards me.
There was no where I could go.
I would be dragged back to the palace.
I would be a pawn in Catina’s game with her sons.
I would somehow become Rafael’s sister or his lover or one of Aurelius’ harem.
I wanted to scream but my voice had gone into hiding.
Rafael was right.
I should never have come.
The strongmen walked calmly, knowing I had nowhere to run and were about a third of the way down the alley when the door behind me suddenly opened and a hand grabbed my arm.
“This way!”
I was whisked into the shadows beyond the door, my body instinctively reacting to the hand on my arm.
“Get off me! Don’t touch me!”
“Calm down, Jo, it’s me!”
His words were like a sharp slap that left no pain and only jolted me out of my panic. The door closed and there was a strange whirring noise. Gears and cogs creaked around me and I gasped in fright as the world tried to upend itself.
“Hold still or you’ll be crushed.” As the world turned, shafts of soft light flickered through like someone was shooting sunbeams across our strange contorting space. One of them must have illuminated me as the man’s voice said. “Wait…you’re not Jo.”
“No, I’m not.” I trembled. “I’m Bethany.”
“Bethany…her niece?” I nodded. “Forgive me, I thought you were Jo…” The world stopped shifting and a little lamp appeared on the wall, illuminating a handsome face possibly up to twenty five years older than mine. He smiled with soft blue eyes. “My name is Abram van Helsing.”
“Bethany St James.” I whispered.
“Of course you are.” He looked around. “Bethany, I suspect you need to get back home…but that won’t be possible for several hours until the tower realigns itself. I hope you will accept my invitation of hospitality.”
“You’re not going to bite me, are you?”
“Oh my dear girl, no.” He said kindly. “You couldn’t be safer with me.”
“Why should I believe that?”
“Because I’m leading the resistance that will, one day, overthrow the vampires, end the oppression of humans and bring peace to Engaland.”
Ultimately I had no choice but to go with my rescuer.
The tower that he had pulled me into had changed configuration and the door I’d entered through had disappeared. He led me without hesitation through the strange, metallic labyrinth to another door which opened into a basement where there were several people looking at me strangely but at a nod from my rescuer, they accepted my presence. We exited the basement by a set of stairs but instead of going up, we went down, the chill from the walls growing and every step, biting my toes. I stopped paying attention to my surroundings, needing to concentrate on simply walking.
At one point I cried out, my foot connecting with a poorly laid stone block. The jolt was like someone stabbing me through the foot. The man turned back and saw me grasping at my feet. Without asking he unzipped my boot and yanked it and my soaked sock off. He swore softly, scooped me up and carried me hastily into a room where there was a fireplace and a big armchair which he deposited me into.
“Boots off.” He ordered, swinging a pot over the fire.
My toes were blue and my bones ached relentlessly. He found a basin and laid it at the base of the chair.
“Feet in.” He barked, spooning some water out of the pot into the basin.
“It’s hot!” I cried, drawing back.
“It’s just hot compared to the chill of your toes. Put them back in.” He said and spooned more water over the top. “The water is barely warm. As you adjust to the temperature, I’ll add more water to the basin.”
It was at least fifteen minutes before I could keep my feet in the water without wincing. When the man was satisfied that I wouldn’t abscond, he picked up a large quilt and draped it around me and added more hot water to the basin. The relief was held in tangent with the pain from the increasing temperature.
“Keep them in the water.” He told me as he left the room.
Without him hovering over me, I felt like I could look at my surroundings. The room was filled with books. Books on shelves, books piled on the floor, stacked to create legs for a coffee table and books lining the fireplace mantle. They weren’t the kind of books you found in bookstores these days. They were old, leather bound, in some cases bound with wood or board, some with printed spines and others so old that their spines had disintegrated.
However, it didn’t feel like a hoarder’s paradise. There was no stench of desperation to the room.
It was like discovering a pharaohs tomb who, instead of being buried with treasures of gold and silver for the afterlife, chose instead to take the written word with him.
The door opened and the man reappeared with two steins in one hand and a pair of socks in the others.
“Drink this.” He handed me the mug. “How are your feet?”
“I think they’re feeling better.”
“May I see?” I nodded and he took one out of the water and checked it over. “If it wasn’t for your healthy lifestyle, we’d be amputating your feet right now.” He dried them briskly and put the socks on me. “Keep them warm.”
I tucked my feet under my backside as I sat on the chair and he sat on the matching footstool, both a little well worn.
“Did you say your name was Abram van Helsing?” I asked.
“Yes,” he confirmed, his fair hair tied back from his face, “from what I gather, I’m a character named after a character from a book in your world.”
I stared at him. “You know about my world? About the books in it?”
“Oh yes.” He chuckled softly. “Jo was kind enough to share some of her stories with me.”
“That sounds like Aunt Jo.”
Abram studied me. “How is she?” He asked quietly.
“Aunt Jo?” He nodded. “Um…she’s in a coma.”
He closed his eyes and grimaced. “How…how long?”
“Three months.”
“Is that all?”
I blundered, not quite sure what he was asking. “It seems like too long to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “it’s just that I haven’t seen her in quite a while.”
“I don’t understand how you met her at all.” I admitted. “I didn’t think she ever came here. At least, that’s what we were told.”
“She visited quite often, in the early days.” Abram smiled. “When I say early days, it was after she discovered how the doors in the Observatory worked.”
“As far as I can tell, that was five years ago although I don’t know how the time difference works between here and there.”
“I think it runs about the same.”
“Oh…Rob didn’t say as much.”
“Is that the robot?”
“Yes.”
“It’s possible Jo didn’t mention it…or even more possible that this was the first place she ever visited.”
“What? She accidentally opened the door and just went for a stroll?”
“You know your aunt…does that not sound like her?”
I paused. “Actually, that sounds exactly like her. She always said books were portals to other worlds that we could hold in our hands.” I looked at the hot drink in my hands, the warmth seeping from it’s the ceramic sides of the stein into my fingers. I sipped it and could feel it descend into my belly, infusing me from the inside, out. “How did you meet her?”
“I found her at my favourite cafe.” Abram smiled. “It was as though she was waiting for me…” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, dislodging the neatly tied blonde tail of hair. “Well, maybe that’s a little egotistical. It was more likely that she knew I would be there and when I entered…”
“How did she know? Had she read the book?”
“Yes.” Abram shook his head. “Strange to meet someone who knows more about you than you know about yourself.”
“I’m guessing you’re in the book?”
“Funnily enough, it’s from my perspective, a collection of my memoirs.” Abram huffed softly and gestured to a pile of papers with a quill pen and ink pot resting nearby on table whose legs were made from stacks of books. “I’m only just starting to make notes now…inspired because of the book that Jo used to unlock this world.”
“Okay, I can see how that would be weird.”
“Extremely but we live in a strained and unusual world. I’ve seen the darkest side of humanity and I’ve born witness to the impossible come to pass.”
I flexed my toes, the blood flow causing them to tingle.
“Did you read your book?”
“I couldn’t read it unless I was in your world. The moment it is off the shelf, the door is locked.”
“Oh, of course.” I felt like a fool. I already knew the answer when I’d asked the question. “So Aunt Jo knew who you were…but how did you meet? Did she say hello?”
“Actually, I noticed her first.” Abram admitted. “It was hard not to. In this world, well, you’ve seen how we look. Greyed out and bleak, hair lank and everything a little…drab. She was like a drop of sunshine, dark brown hair, blue scarf, her glasses sparkling…it wasn’t even the way she looked but simply her presence. I couldn’t miss how she stood out…the way you do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s the touch of sun in your world,” Abram explained, “the good food, the open sky…the hope and freedom you possess. That’s very attractive to an oppressed people.”
“Are the people of Engaland oppressed?”
“More than they realise…but when you’ve suffered it so long that anyone who would remember differently has long since decayed in their graves, it’s hard to convince people otherwise.”
I put my hand to my head. “I am so confused. What is this place? Who was that queen? Why are there vampires ruling and reigning? What’s with that demonic daughter? Where did my door go? How can I get home?” I groaned and grimaced. “And where the hell is that blasted haiku?”
“Haiku?”
“Three lines of poetry written by Aunt Jo. It’s part of a spell or incantation…something that might even save her life. What are you doing?” Abram was on his feet, taking his coat from a hook on the wall. He slid his fingers into an inner pocket and drew out an envelope. I held my breath as he looked at it then turned to me.
“Do you mean this?” He didn’t let me slide out of the warm embrace of the chair, handing the envelope to me.
My fingers trembled as I pried open the flap and eased the little slip of paper out. Aunt Jo’s handwriting was perfectly visible in three neat lines.
“Sacred feminine. Pregnant with my salvation. My goddess divine.” I looked at Abram. “That’s it. That’s the missing piece of the puzzle!”
He stared at me. “Why do I get the feeling you and I have stories to share?”
“I would but I have to get this back home quickly.” I went to stand up. “It could have something to do with saving Aunt Jo’s life!”
“As much as I would wish you to leave and do just that, it is impossible.” Abram stopped my departure. “The door exists within the clocktower and it turns with the changing of the time. It’s only accessible twice a day as far as I’m aware and when it is not in those positions, it’s lost within the clockwork labyrinth.”
“Damn.” I swore, sinking onto the chair. “I suppose I have to wait.”
“While we do, could you please tell me what happened to Jo?”
I nodded. “In exchange, can you tell me about Engaland?”
“Of course.”