Chapter Ten

Cupid’s Castle

When I woke up, I felt like a broken porcelain doll. I was lying on a black leather sofa in front of a huge glass wall. It was morning and the sunlight that came filtered through the window was gray. Beyond the glass was a large body of water. Was it the ocean? Was it a lake? I couldn’t see the other side. Rubbing the back of my neck, I sat up.

Where was I?

I let my head fall back onto the couch and replayed my last memories. I was in the car with Schroder. We were at Pierce’s mansion. He got one whiff of my blood, went psycho, and attacked Kilmeny and Kelly. Then he banged me on the side of the head and that was the end. Now the most important question was whether or not Schroder had beaten The Scissor Man. It wasn’t ‘where am I?’ It was ‘who am I with?’

Looking out the window, I determined that I was nowhere near the city because there was no major body of water very close by.

No matter how I thought about it, I couldn’t figure out why I should have ended up in a place like this if The Scissor Man had won. That meant Schroder had probably killed him and brought me to this place—probably a second home of his where he could drink my blood and kill me whether I drank his blood or not.

Was that what was happening?

I was right the first time—I was already dead. It was only a matter of time before that monster stopped my heart.

I checked my body. A horrendous bruise had spiked out from my forehead where Schroder had hit me with the gun, but other than that there were no other lesions. This surprised me. I expected him to drink my blood at the first opportunity.

Looking around the open floor plan, the kitchenette was too small to be practical (another piece of evidence that I had been kidnapped by Schroder). Stairs led up to a second floor. A door hung on its hinges revealing the edge of a toilet seat. Another door obviously led outside.

I lurched to my feet. It was probably locked, but I had to give it a try. Wobbling, I made it to the entryway, where my shoes were sitting beside the door. As quietly as I could, I sat down on the floor and pulled them on. Then, I tried the doorknob. It gave. I winced, expecting an alarm to sound, but it was silent. I opened the door and stepped outside.

Crisp air cooled my hot skin. It felt especially good on my bruised head. A light mist curled around the house reminding me the shirt I had borrowed from Dudley was inadequate.

I expected to see a car parked next to the house, but there was none. There was no driveway, no garage, no fence, no neighbors, and absolutely no houses anywhere on the distant rolling hills. The grass around the house was unkempt and the grounds were wilderness. A little lane marked in the grass seemed like it hadn’t been used in ages and it only led to the back of the house toward the water.

Feeling like I had no choice but to follow the path, I wrapped my arms around myself and walked down it. It began as grass and quickly became sand. The landscape beyond startled me as I realized how large the body of water in front of me was. It wasn’t a lake. It was something much bigger. I was at a place I knew nothing of. I could be anywhere on the planet.

Walking down the shore, I found a dock, but there were no boats moored there. I didn’t know what to do, other than to continue along and see what I could find. There might be other houses, other people, a boat—something to help me find my way back.

***

When I was a little girl, my mom read me a story. I stood there at the shore and the haunting tale came back to me.

It was a fairytale about a man who won a parcel of land. The size of his prize was determined by the parameter he could walk in a single day. Bright and early, he began walking. He felt energized and optimistic, so he walked far in a straight line. Before he realized it, the sun was high overhead. The sun’s journey was halfway done. Turning, he walked quickly to the east, to widen the property. He walked as far as he dared to before turning a second time. By this time the sun was starting to get low, so he turned back toward the starting place, even though he knew his land would be an irregular shape. He increased his speed and pushed his limits of endurance. He had been walking all day. His breath came short. It was further than he calculated to his starting place and soon, he was running, trying to get to the beginning before the sun set. As he reached his goal, the man had exhausted himself. He dropped dead.

What did land matter to a dead man?

I held my breath as my mother revealed that the mysterious giver of the land was, in fact, the Devil himself.

As I walked away from the vampire's house, I wondered if I had been as foolish as the man who had unwittingly made a deal with the Devil?

I thought I was being offered a wonderful chance for escape since the front door had been left unlocked.

Since I couldn’t get away, I would be dead by sunset.

As I walked along the shore, I kept thinking the next turn would show a house or a boat or possible help in some form, and each time I was disappointed. And there was always the temptation to turn back toward the mainland whenever I saw a break in the grass beyond the beach. On closer examination, they didn’t look like trails, so I kept to the shore. After all, anyone who lived in this area would want to be close to the water, wouldn’t they?

So I walked.

It was cold. I was tired. My head hurt. My belly rumbled. My mouth was dry and my ragged breaths scraped my throat. My feet ached as I trudged the uneven ground.

Slowly, the gray morning and cloudy afternoon turned orange. The sun was beginning to set and I finally concluded I was on an island. That was why there were no other houses—no other trails. That was why the door was left open. I had nowhere to go.

Why didn’t my captor say so? Obviously, I wouldn’t have believed him.

Now I didn’t know how far it was to the house where there was clean water to drink and a place to lie down.

Finally, I found a fallen log and sat down just in time to watch the orange sun sink into the water.

Then a voice sounded behind me, “Have you finished exploring?”

I turned and saw Schroder—sans wig. The place where Dudley shot him in the head was held together with silver staples. He was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and leaning against a tree

“Yeah,” I muttered, getting to my feet and brushing off my clothes. “I’m done.”

“And you’re going to come back to the house without a fight?” he asked skeptically.

“It’s a little late to fight.”

“Wonderful,” he said, coming over to me and pointing into the forest. “There’s a shortcut.”

My feet hurt like hell, and obviously, he had no vehicle to spare me. On this island, there was just the house, him, and me.

“So,” I started. I wanted to sound casual, but my voice failed me. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Well, I thought about what you said in the car. You said I should have tried to earn your heart. I had never thought of that as a possibility. When you showed up at my place last night, I was talking to Pierce. He was telling me about a particular woman he favored—a human.”

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“Really?”

“Hard to believe, huh? I thought so too. So, I asked him how he was planning on having a relationship with her that didn’t end in a blood bath. He said he was simply going to leave blood out of the equation. He was just going to love her and never drink a drop. I had never considered having a romance that didn’t revolve around the sharing of blood. In case you didn’t know, it’s the blood that makes the love affair intense.”

Stopping, I looked at his face. He was scarred from the fire eight years ago. He didn’t even have eyebrows, even though the rims of his sunglasses hid the fact. When I looked at him I felt a twinge of pity for what I had done—not because the monster didn’t deserve it—but urgh! I didn’t know. It was easier when I woke up in the morning and there was nothing left but ash, not a person walking around maimed… because of me.

Who could have a romance with him when he looked that way? They’d have to find his inner beauty. Did a vampire with five bullets in his head screwing him up have any inner beauty?

“I want to give it a try,” he said.

“With who?” I asked bitterly, hoping against hope he didn’t mean me.

“Who do you think?” His voice sounded less than amused.

Who was I kidding? Why else would he have brought me out here if not to use me for his little experiment?

“Have you ever heard of the story of Cupid and Psyche?” he asked suddenly.

“Cupid?” I repeated stupidly.

“Sounds like you haven’t,” he said, moving a branch out of my way before I got to it. “Cupid was the son of Aphrodite.”

“Oh?”

“Psyche was the third daughter of a king and her beauty was renowned. She was so famous Aphrodite became jealous and told the king she would destroy his kingdom if he didn’t leave Psyche as a sacrifice to her.”

“This sounds like the kind of story a vampire would like,” I said drolly.

“Perhaps,” Schroder said, looking at me like he didn’t understand my joke. “In any case, Psyche doesn’t die. She’s strapped to the edge of a cliff to await her doom. Aphrodite has sent her son, Cupid, to dispose of her, but when he sees her he doesn’t have the heart to kill her. Instead, he takes her to his castle where he sets up a situation for her to go on living.”

“How does that work?”

“He arranges it so she cannot see his face whether it be day or night and makes her his lover.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. “I take it she cannot leave his castle even if she wants to.”

“No. I imagine she couldn’t,” Schroder said, pulling away another piece of greenery to reveal the house.

It was a shack—not half the size of his mansion by the city, but it looked exactly like Cupid’s castle to me.

***

Back at the house, Schroder brought me a bottle of water and a bowl of vegetable soup with some crackers. He set them on the coffee table in front of the couch and sat down on the other side of the sectional to watch me eat.

“Sorry, I haven’t got anything better, but we came here in a hurry last night and I didn’t have the chance to shop.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, drinking the soup directly from the bowl rather than bothering with the spoon.

“You’re not worried that it’s poisoned?”

“Why would you try to murder me?” I asked, setting the bowl down when all the liquid was gone. “Aren’t I here so you can seduce me?”

“Seduce isn’t the word I would use,” he said. His voice was rather sharp.

“Love? You expect me to believe that you love me? I can’t believe that. I still maintain you didn’t even know me.”

“I did,” he said ardently. Apparently, he was not turned off by my unladylike display with the soup. Pity. I guessed vampires liked slurping.

I cracked open the crackers and shook my head. “It’s not going to float.”

“That’s because you drank all the broth,” he quipped humorlessly. He hung his head in an almost human gesture of despair. A few moments passed in relative silence before he spoke next. “I can prove it.”

“How?” I asked saucily. No matter what he said, he couldn’t convince me.

“It’ll take four days—at least.”

“And what happens at the end of the four days if I’m not convinced?”

“At the end of four days, we’ll see if I can win your heart. Before that, I have to get some more provisions for you.”

“Does that mean there’s a boat moored somewhere around here?”

“No.”

“Then how do you plan to bring anything here?”

Then he smiled—a strange twisting smile that reminded me of the line a snake would make as it disappeared through the grass. “Did you really think I would tell you how I plan to keep you here? It’s laughable you even asked.”

“You might tell me a thing or two, just so I don’t spend my time pursuing a dead end—like I did today. I felt like an idiot. You could have just said, ‘We’re on an island so don’t bother’.”

“I see. Well, when you put it that way, the electricity for this place is provided by a generator in the back of the house. Don’t mess with it. The only one who will suffer will be you. The well water isn’t particularly good, so drink the bottled water. There is no radio, or telephone out here. If you have a cell phone in your bag, it won’t work because there’s no reception out here. There’s no boat. I think that’s about it.”

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, that covered just about everything. I was screwed. “Well, when you’re getting those provisions, please remember to get me adequate personal hygiene supplies.”

“Are there really that many things?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll get you whatever you want,” he said like he was just now deciding to be gallant.

“Thanks.”

I finished off the soup and pushed the bowl away from me. Then I leaned back and sipped the water.

“Now I’m going to leave,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Where are you going?” I asked, attempting to hide my relief.

“To leave you alone. You can sleep upstairs if that’s more comfortable for you. I just want to give you something to think about before I go.”

I looked at him quizzically. What could he possibly have to tell me that would make a difference at this point?

He bent down and looked me in my eyes. “Remember the night you slashed my chest and burned me?”

“Yes,” I admitted, recoiling further into the sofa.

“Have you ever wondered why I didn’t take the knife from you?”

“Huh?” I asked, my fear forgotten as my eyes bugging out.

“I could easily have taken it from you. I didn’t. Ever wonder why?”

I stared at him. I had wondered why.

He backed away from me and looked down on me from his height. “That’s enough for tonight. I’ll let you digest that and I’ll see you tomorrow night. Try not to get bored.”

Then he headed out the front door.

I glared after him. I should have had the spunk to follow him to see what method he used to get off the island, but after spending the whole day walking fruitlessly, I couldn’t make my body move one inch. I ached in places I didn’t even know I had.

I put my head in my hands and moaned despairingly.

***

Just like Schroder wanted, I thought about what he said.

He had not taken the knife from me. He was willing to die at my hand. Somehow, his story rang true.

But was it enough to prove to me that he loved me? No. It only made me think he possessed enough humanity not to hurt a fifteen-year-old girl who was only trying to defend her sister.

Losing myself in thought, I fell asleep on the couch. I wanted to explore the house and get a feeling of where I was, but I was exhausted. The last few days had been murder.

In the morning, I got up and found some instant oatmeal in the cupboard. There wasn’t any milk, but there were clean dishes and a microwave, so I made it with water and gagged it down.

Then I went pawing around Schroder’s house. He said he wouldn’t be back until after dark anyway.

Upstairs, I found one bedroom. Its ceiling was slanted to match the slope of the roof, and the doorway was so low I had to duck to my head. It was a very ordinary room. It was dusty, except for the bed, which had been covered in plastic (the plastic was bunched up behind the door). When I smelled the blankets though, they had a new scent to them, as if they were fresh out of the package.

There was also a bathroom on the second floor. It had a tub in it, though no shower was installed. I was going to have to take baths.

Going back downstairs, it took me a while to find the entrance to the basement. It was hidden behind a shelf containing linen in the bathroom. When I finally got the door open, I saw a spiral staircase that led both down and up. Fearing the unknown, I chose to go up before I went down. I found I had missed seeing the door in the upstairs bedroom closet.

Then I went down.

The stairwell opened up to let the person into an open space. My breath sputtered like an old lawnmower. Bloody hell, this was scary. Darkness shrouded the room. It took me a few infinite seconds to find the cord that turned on the light. When I pulled the string, about five lines of studio lights came on. And lucky for me, there was nothing grotesque to see.

One glance around the room told me what Schroder had meant when he said he was talented. He was an artist. Behind each of those lines of lights was an easel with a partially completed painting sitting on it. I didn’t have to be an expert to tell how good he was.

I looked at each painting and then at stacks and stacks of finished work he kept off to one side—except there were paintings I couldn’t see. At least I suspected the two huge vaults kept in the corner contained paintings. They might have housed anything really, like a two-way radio. The locks and hinges on them were super tight. I stepped away from them and examined the room. Why had I expected to find anything gory in the first place? London didn’t keep that sort of thing in her closet. Schroder probably didn’t want his best work spoiled if there was a flood, so he kept it in a water-tight container. Right? Or was there something more pertinent to my escape inside? I tugged on the handle again. No way was that sucker going to give.

So, I went upstairs and had lunch. Canned soup again.