The Vampires Reflection

Chapter Four

 

  Nightshade

  Charlotte's heart caught in her throat as she ran. Every muscle in her chest tensed as she cried out through the crowded Occult town square. She needed to find Valek. Fast.

  Bewitched lanterns twinkled in oranges and reds against the color of midnight, casting eerie shadows through the alleys as all of the various creatures moved quickly from the shops, headed for the Occult border. The low monotone of people's conversations floated around her as she shoved against the packed mob like a fish swimming upstream, every face less familiar and friendly than the last.

  This wasn't working. He couldn't possibly be back where she was going. He must be somewhere near the front of the crowd.

  She spun on her heel, fiery curls flying into her face, blinding her search for him. Her stomach twisted in an awful knot. She fought for each breath as she begged an unseen force to make him appear within the crowd.

  She screamed his name until the back of her throat went dry, like sandpaper, scorching like fire. She grasped at her neck, digging her nails desperately into her flesh. Where was he? Surely, hiding in the darkness for what he had made of her.

  Nobody looked at her as she called. Nobody even acknowledged her cries or the fact that she was screaming out his name as loud as she possibly could. The various Elves, Imps, Phasers, Witches, and the rest of those so utterly different from her, continued with their gazes fixed forward, all marching in the same direction down the wide, cobblestone street. All of their blank stares were cast upward, as if waiting for something to drop out of the sky.

  Charlotte grabbed hold of one tall Witch by her pointed shoulders. She recognized her instantly as one of the Witches her arch-rival, Evangeline, used to spend time with in the tavern. Her face was white and drawn, the expression in her eyes completely lifeless-like she was dead.

  "I'm looking for Valek Ruzik!"

  The Witch didn't even acknowledge her with so much as a facial twitch. The wicked woman continued on, as though Charlotte weren't actually there at all. Like she didn't exist.

  "Help me!" Charlotte tried calling again, "Please!" She turned, mouth agape, just now noticing the large Ogre alongside her. She caught only a glimpse of him just before his girth slammed into her, throwing her to the ground. Trying hard not to be trampled by those clamoring toward her, she gasped and scrambled out of the way. The soft skin on her palms scraped against the rough granules between the cobblestones, bloodying instantly. She winced as shards of rock and rubble clung to the shallow wounds. The familiar, alluring smell of salty iron wafted to her senses. Her stomach groaned with it. She lifted her reddened palms to her face, wanting to open her mouth and lick her wounds clean, but she shoved the atrocious urge away as quickly as it came.

  She pulled herself up from the ground again and gasped for air like she'd just surfaced from the depths of dark waters. "Valek! Valek!" She turned the other direction, desperately scanning each face. "Where are you?" Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry!"

  No one answered or even looked at her. It was as though she were invisible to the world. Oh God, I've really lost him this time. She continued scanning the square for his face, whirling around to see if she'd somehow missed him walking past.

  A lute and fiddle played themselves in the center of the square, their merry music echoing off the large rim of the ancient fountain. Ghostly memories of people happily clapping and dancing in time to that music crawled up Charlotte's spine as she choked on the dry air in her throat. There was nothing but deathly silence from the surrounding patrons now. She wrapped her sweater-clad arms around her shoulders, her breath forming mist in front of her face.

  Charlotte cried his name once more before catching sight of the mystified expression on the face of one of the Phasers, who gazed upward like the rest of the crowd. Charlotte finally turned to see what had captivated all of them so-what had driven them out of the square, and what had caused all of them to become so enraptured.

  She saw it then. Dawn, coming like the opposing army, relentlessly invading over the rooftops. It blasted its way through, striking a cannon's hole in the midnight surface. No.

  "No!" Her flesh started to tighten around her bones. She looked down at her palms. One of her fate lines, carved deep through the middle of her hand, had begun to disappear in the coming morning light. Her skin started to gray. "No! Valek! I'm so sorry! Please! Where are you? Valek!"

  More tears poured down her face as she sprinted off in the direction of her house. She could see it just beyond the crowd and the rooftops of the inns and taverns. It stood there faithfully, as always. Safe. Constant. Unchanging. The lights were on. Valek must be inside.

  She ran harder and faster, her own breath heavy in her ears, her lungs burning. The shock of her feet meeting the ground with each step reverberated up her leg and hit her hip and knee like a lightning strike. The pain was more than she could bear, but she kept on. She could not leave Valek there. Not when dawn was coming to claim them. It was her fault, for what she had become. That was why he wouldn't come when she called him. That must have been it. He was angry with her.

  Charlotte burst through the front door. Despite the pale lights glimmering from the salon and kitchen, the house took on a dark and dead quality. It looked empty, abandoned, and panic set in until she sensed Valek was in his bedroom. She choked out the breath she'd been holding and bolted for the staircase and down the dusty hall, her lungs on fire. Possibly from exhaustion-possibly from the impending sunrise. "Valek!"

  She shoved through the carved double doors to his master bedroom. "Valek, we have to leave! They are coming for us! Valek-" Charlotte stopped in a cold sweat when she saw there were two figures in the room before her.

  In the dim light that peeked through the black bed curtains, Charlotte saw Valek belly up on his bed, a graceful-looking female looming over his body. A golden wedding band glinted off her slender ring finger that stroked the side of his face affectionately. Her brown hair twirled down to the middle of her shoulder blades against the perfect ivory of her skin. She was beautiful. Delicate. Human.

  Bile rose in the back of Charlotte's throat.

  "I've missed you so much," he said to her gently, his horrid monster's claw trailing down her pure, naked spine. The sudden recollection of the story Valek had told once in Francis' basement, of his long-deceased, mortal wife, came flooding back to Charlotte. She gripped fistfuls of her hair in knots. But how could this be possible?

  "No!" Charlotte howled until her chest felt like it would explode into a thousand pieces. "Valek! No! It's a trap! No!"

  "Charlotte!" A familiar voice called to her. "Charlotte, open your eyes!"

  A warm hand gripped her shoulder. She whirled around in Valek's bedroom to see a large, shadowy figure looming over her, one distinct, pointed ear poking out from the waves of auburn hair. The mere vision of him sent waves of fear whizzing through her. A scream bubbled up from her gut.

  Suddenly, her body began rocking gently, like she'd somehow drifted. She continued to scream, never wanting to return back to that basement. Tears continued to ensue.

  "Charlotte, wake up!"

  "No," she sobbed.

  "I b-believe this is the th-third night in a row," another familiar voice stammered next to her.

  "Charlotte, darlin'. Wake up. You're safe!"

  Finally, her eyelids fluttered open to the utter stillness of the ruddy color of a dirt-packed ceiling, cluttered with several brass pans, a few cuckoo clocks, and about a dozen or so silver teapots. Her senses filled with the heady scent of wood smoldering in Mr. Třinozka's massive hearth. With teary eyes, she remembered the burning smell in her nightmare. She was wrapped tightly in a quilted blanket, as one of Mr. Třinozka's eight large arms cuddled her affectionately. It was so tight, she could barely move her own arms-like a fly caught in a web. She finally realized where she was.

  "Charlotte! Why, you had a nightmare, girly.
" His normally gruff voice was lifted a few octaves higher than usual, probably from his concern.

  Had she been screaming out loud? How embarrassing. "I. . . fell asleep?"

  "You did. Edwin and I came in from the day and found you were curled up in one of my bean chairs. " His mustache bristled with the promise of a smile just underneath, the corners twirled upward by fresh wasp wax. His antique brass aviator goggles were lifted onto his forehead, his ruby scarf wound tightly around his broad neck. He and Edwin must have just arrived home from work at the Broucka General Store. They'd been cleaning up the shop after a looting that had occurred during their battle at the Regime Palace. It had taken them days to do so.

  Another set of familiar eyes, shiny and made of buttons, caught her attention as they loomed over her. Edwin, the enchanted, boy of burlap and yarn, stared back at her curiously, his stitched mouth mashed into a worried line. Charlotte was never very certain what kind of creature he was. Something like an animated scarecrow or a rag doll of sorts and the only one of his kind, as far as anyone knew. Mr. Třinozka had invited Edwin to live with him in the burrow after their return from the Regime, and sadly, upon finding Horris, Mr. Třinozka's old roommate, gone.

  Mr. Třinozka rested Charlotte into one of the enormous bean bag chairs set in front of the blazing fire. His burrow was cozy and intimate, crowded by his collection of so many mortal objects. Ragged teddy bears, lamps, pipes, plates. It was all there. The fire set a warm glow around the red color of the dirt walls. It danced in the reflection his massive goggles and in the spectacles sitting on the bridge of Edwin's burlap nose.

  Charlotte reached over and pulled one particularly pathetic looking teddy bear into her lap. Bringing her knees up, she wrapped her arms around the thing. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, causing the light in the room to blur. "It was awful. I was in the square. There were so many faces. I searched, but I couldn't find him anywhere. "

  "Hush!" Mr. Třinozka abruptly pressed a finger from one of his long, front arms directly to her lips. He was sweater-clad. Something Sarah had knit him for the winter months. He glanced around. "We mustn't speak of nightmares here, girly. Evil feeds on 'em, don't ya know it. It's bad luck. You'll bring about misfortune. If ya speak of the nightmare, it may come true!" The giant Phaser, with the face of a kindly, elderly man and the lower half of an arachnid pulled his human-like hand away from her face and replaced it with another one of his hands that was clutching a cup of tea. He offered it to her. He was a strange, half-transformed shifter that was perpetually in between his two forms, the upper half of his body still human-shaped. He and Edwin were the greatest misfits she'd ever known and she loved them both dearly. "Everything's fine now, ain't it?"

  Charlotte nodded.

  "My dear. . . if you ever wish to flee a nightmare, all you must do is turn on the light," he whispered.

  She took the steaming cup of tea from him and nodded her response. "I suppose. I don't know what's gotten into my head lately. " Her heart sank as the fresh images of her night terrors continued to replay in her mind.

  "D-don't even th-think about it, Ch-charlotte," Edwin stammered as he collapsed into his chair. He removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his cloth nose.

  The massive Spider man ruffled his mustache and harrumphed, crossing his two front arms. He reached up to adjust the copper-colored goggles on his head before he unraveled his scarf and tossed it to the coat rack. He crossed the room to add another log to the fire, a waft of his butterscotch smell floating to her on the slight chill in the burrow. Old Man Winter always knew just where to creep in.

  "It's finally gettin' cold out there," Mr. Třinozka grumbled, rubbing his two front hands together before the fire.

  Edwin's button eyes continued to stare sadly at her from behind his spectacles. "H-how's your s-scar, Charlotte?" His attention flicked to the Spider for a moment as he was handed a ceramic cup of tea as well. He closely examined the chip along the edge before taking a sip.

  Charlotte grimaced, dropping her gaze. Her scar. It ached a little. She rubbed at it lightly. "It's fine," she lied and cleared her throat. "Is Valek home yet?" She'd feel better if she saw him.

  Charlotte knew Valek didn't like her to stay alone in the house, now more than ever. The truth was, she didn't much like being alone in the house, either. Not when they all knew Aiden was still at large after their battle at the Regime. Not when they didn't know where he might be hiding now. Not when she didn't know how Aiden had transformed after Valek's bite, and the sort of additional powers he might harbor now.

  Since the Elven magic had worn off in the coven's system more quickly than they originally predicted when they'd gotten their first taste of the sunlight, they all had gotten a little obsessive with their newfound pastime for Elf-hunting. Suddenly so addicted to their newfound freedom, the coven would never go back to what life used to be without it-dying every morning with the rise of the sun. Their caged existence, forever in the night, had been miserable. She understood that. Charlotte shuddered with the memories of Lusian, in the dankness of Francis' basement, impaling himself on his hatchet to get his dying process over with faster. The image played over in her mind a lot-the way he looked at her as the life left his eyes. How tragically ironic, she thought, that the curse of being undead actually meant dying over and over again.

  The thought of Valek being outside in the light made her nervous, though since the Regime had been toppled, there were no real borders between the human cities and the Occult's anymore, anyway. At least that's what Lusian had been arguing. However, Valek couldn't have disagreed with him more. Sure, he went hunting like they all did, but he had been vocal in making his opinion extremely clear on just how stupid it would be to let their guard down now. He'd tried to tell them that with Aiden still alive, and without knowing what form he had taken, the coven needed to be more vigilant now than ever. Obviously, they did not respect his orders. Especially now that Francis was gone and the coven had named no real leader in the elder Vampire's place.

  "Valek should be gettin' home soon, darlin'. " Mr. Třinozka started to unwrap her from her soft, warm prison of down and quilt. "You've been asleep for a coupla hours. Right, tuckered out, you were. I guess from not gettin' much sleep recently, with your affliction and what not. " He leaned in closer to her. "You've been lookin' a little pale there, girly, iffen you don't mind my sayin'. You were screamin' something else. . . about your scar there. " He indicated softly the slight, crescent lift in her skin at the side of her neck. "You sure you're all right?"

  It throbbed delicately, and she winced before nervously clearing her throat, attempting to shift the conversation away from her strange ailment. He was right. Sleep hadn't been the priority lately. She lifted herself from the cushiony chair, setting down the old teddy bear she'd been clutching in her place.

  "Good evening, Mr. Třinozka. Edwin. Sorry for the screaming," she said with a forced smile.

  "Take care of yourself, girly. " He ruffled his mustache before ducking into the kitchen portion of his burrow while Edwin waved his goodbye, though he continued to stare at her with that inquisitive, sort of sad expression he always had when looking at her. It made her chest tighten.

  Charlotte ducked from the hanging brass pots and weaved between the massive cobwebs, iron gears, antique dolls, and cuckoo clocks. The Spider fancied himself a treasure collector, though Edwin joked that it was all nothing more than trash.

  She began to climb up the newly formed tunnel that Mr. Třinozka had created to connect the large house at the end of the town square to the Spider's earthy home just underneath. Reaching the stark light of Valek's office above her, she pushed the trap door open and pulled herself up into her home. She left the door open in case either Edwin or Mr. Třinozka wanted to come upstairs later that evening.

  Vampires didn't make much noise, but the house seemed too quiet nonetheless. There was a certain energy that was missing, and Charlotte could t
ell Valek and the others hadn't returned yet. Usually, she came home to find the twins, Ana and Aneta, clamoring for one of Valek's blood packs in the kitchen or the usual argument between Jorge and Mr. Třinozka over an ensuing game of chess, but there was nothing, with the exception of her own quiet footsteps.

  Disturbing images from the nightmare continued to replay in her mind so vividly; she hardly saw the house before her as she moved through it. Still feeling stiff, she stretched her arms wide, her joints cracking.

  Hearing a sharp sound, Charlotte nearly leaped out of her skin, though relaxed instantly when she saw that it was Sarah. The fragile-looking Witch, with a doll's face and hair, bounced into the foyer from the kitchen. Sarah cradled a large ceramic mixing bowl in one arm, stirring the contents with her free hand. Her brown banana curls were wound in little twists on either side of her head, pinned there by tiny, violet flowers. The smell of brown sugar and cinnamon wafted from the bowl and nipped at Charlotte's senses, though it made her stomach lurch as a result.

  "What are you making?" Charlotte started awkwardly, forcing a smile.

  "Sweet rolls! With honey and cinnamon!" Sarah beamed. "Thought I'd try something new tonight. I know you're getting sick of the cider and all that. I've found a new grimoire that depicts all of these special food spells!" Her normal twinkly little voice sounded particularly electric with her excitement. "This spell book is too incredible! It was hiding in the kitchen near the back of one of the shelves. It was absolutely covered in dust-"

  "Do you mean a cookbook?" Charlotte concluded with a lifted eyebrow.

  "Sure. Right, whatever that is. " Sarah grumbled. "How is your wound? It doesn't seem like you're writhing with the pain of it yet. . . . "

  Charlotte glowered. "No. Not yet. " Biting her lip, she turned from Sarah's heated stare. The Witch continued to stir, but neither of them spoke as Charlotte twirled a lock of hair around in her fingers. The pause felt long and awkward as Charlotte racked her brain for a way to fill it, or at the very least, walk away.

  "Sarah?"

  "Yes?"

  Charlotte hesitated. Maybe she shouldn't ask this. "Did Valek ever mention anything to you about his past? You know, when he was mortal?"

  Sarah simply snorted and rolled her eyes, stirring her brew faster. "I know nothing, Charlotte. Valek barely discusses the weather with me, let alone his ancient affairs. "

  Charlotte couldn't help but notice the bitter edge to Sarah's words. The Witch had become one of Charlotte's closest friends and her only female confidant during their time hiding from the Regime. She was the only one in the house, aside from Edwin and Mr. Třinozka, who didn't want to eat her. But after Charlotte's curious addiction to Valek's bite worsened, Sarah seemed to have stopped empathizing with what Charlotte was going through. Stockholm syndrome, she called it, furious anytime Charlotte would go running to Valek for a fix.

  Sarah had made her opinion quite clear, that every bit about the way Valek was treating Charlotte was wrong. She no longer felt the need to keep quiet anymore. She was no longer enslaved to any member of the coven since Francis had been banished to the Dark City. Charlotte's new, physical ailment wasn't anything the Witch was able to solve on her own, and Charlotte knew that must have frustrated her type-A personality to no end. Once, she'd even eavesdropped on Sarah muttering to herself over a spell book in the library, trying to figure out a cure, no doubt. When the addiction had only just begun, Sarah recommended that Valek turn Charlotte to spare her of the dangers they faced now. But of course her argument was to no avail. Valek wouldn't even hear of it.

  Charlotte sighed as she recalled Valek storming off, slamming the doors to his office after the last argument. He and Sarah had refused to speak to each other for the duration of that entire week. She screamed for him to take Charlotte's human life, and over and over again, Valek screamed 'no'. All the while Charlotte listened from out in the foyer, unable to contain her tears. It was miserable.

  Finally breaking the awkward silence, Sarah stopped stirring, dipped one of her slender fingers into the mix, and tasted it. Her tongue smacked against the roof of her mouth and she smiled, signaling she had gotten the recipe right. "It's really good but it needs newt, I think. "

  Charlotte mashed her lips into a thin, polite smile, though she tried desperately to conceal her grimace, wondering exactly what cookbook the over-zealous little Sorceress had found. Sarah's specialty in her magical studies had always been in healing, but what set her apart was her ability to fix people-namely Charlotte-by adding her healing spells into her pastries and sweets to replenish blood taken from Vampire feedings. Valek's feedings-for she needed it now as much as he did. Good thing, Charlotte thought. She didn't want to think about what Sarah's spells would actually taste like if they weren't absolutely loaded with sugar.

  "They're all still out hunting," Sarah said as she began stirring again. "They've not been back in hours. I suppose I shouldn't tell you I've been getting worried. " She raised her eyebrows.

  "At least they're enjoying their freedom," Charlotte mused with a pinch of bitterness. She didn't remember the last time she'd felt free. She longed for the days when she could travel back and forth over the border at liberty-hiding from the malevolent creatures -hunting in the night. She'd once likened herself to a great adventurer, with the dark duty to deliver her own kind to her Vampire guardian. Now, she was powerless and trapped. She knew the reason Valek was keeping her on such a short chain was a good one. She knew how afraid he was that something might come and steal her away from him again. Their world was still so plagued and dangerous. But she just couldn't shake her growing misery, these same walls becoming unbearable to look at each day.

  Valek didn't need her any more now that he was out from under the Regime's thumb and their prejudicial laws. She served a different role in his life. One that was less important. She took pride in what she used to do. There was no more protecting him. No more saving him. Now she was just the hunted-like all the other humans before her. The only things keeping her alive were Sarah's baked concoctions and Valek's promise that everything would eventually be okay again.

  "That's just the thing. They don't have their freedom," Sarah countered, snapping Charlotte back from her thoughts. "They act like they do, but they should all still be in hiding and taking full precaution. This war isn't over. They have no idea where the Regime might be conspiring, and what kind of dangers are after them now. It's still so very perilous! They've developed a lethal case of cabin fever. These mosquito-people have gone stir-crazy. Valek has gone to find the others to drag their tails back here before they're all killed, I suppose. They know very well what the rules are. Valek was very clear in setting them. No extraneous hunting until Aiden is vanquished. "

  Sarah mimicked the Vampire's inflection so perfectly it made Charlotte's knees suddenly go to butter. She frowned. What a strange effect.

  "Ow!" Charlotte's hand immediately flew up to the side of her neck when her scar scorched like someone was holding a branding iron against it. She dug her nails into the flesh in an effort to relieve some of the burning. It throbbed under her fingers, searing. Charlotte hissed at the blistering sensation, which didn't seem to let up.

  Placing the bowl on the small table near the library entrance, Sarah immediately flitted up to Charlotte, her small fingers attempting to tear Charlotte's hand away from the scar. "Don't do that! You sound like one of them. Let me see!"

  Charlotte cringed, baring her teeth, and pulled away. "There's nothing to see. This happens every night. It burns. I just need him to come back. " She bit her lip hard against the flaming licks at her throat while she attempted to keep her breathing steady and even. It calmed the pain slightly when she tasted the coppery sensation of her own blood in her mouth.

  "I think that's exactly what you don't need!" Sarah blanched and grabbed for Charlotte's hand. She yanked her over the threshold, into the library.

  The pain grew worse every second. Even
though this was nothing new to her, it seemed Charlotte would never get used to this. It was like her skin was being burned off by hot metal. Her flesh tightened with the scorching heat at the place of her scar, the pain growing even worse in just the past few moments as it trailed down her spine. Beads of sweat formed at her brow when the pain continued.

  With both of her hands on Charlotte's shoulders, Sarah urged her down on the floor in the center of the large study. "Hang on," Charlotte heard her say over the rushing sound in her ears. This was when she usually passed out with the intensity. When it became too much. Every day she endured this pain-dealt with it the best she could, trying to hide the level of its intensity from Valek and Sarah. But the truth was it was steadily growing worse. She didn't know what was going to become of her if she continued to bury the truth of how severe it was becoming. Something had to give. She couldn't keep going on like this. Pushing her face into the rug beneath her, she clawed at it desperately for relief-for anything to stifle her screams.

  Sarah ran over to the fireplace and shoved both her hands in the flames, biting back a tortured cry. The Witch dashed back over to Charlotte and placed her smoldering palms over Charlotte's scar, chanting something she didn't understand. Was this what Hell was like? Had she done something to deserve this? Oh yes, she recalled, all of the mortal lives she'd sacrificed to the darkness-to Valek. All of the people just like her. She'd been committing this murder her entire life, but the manifestation of her guilt was only just beginning to set in.

  "Valek will be home soon," Sarah said in a soothing tone. Her hand brushed gently across the back of Charlotte's head, and she was gone. Charlotte barely slit her eyes open and looked around to find she was alone. She couldn't concentrate on anything except the internal immolation as she curled up in a fetal position and rolled over onto her side, clenching herself into as tiny of a ball as she could possibly become, hoping just to dissipate into the carpet. After a few moments, as if by magic, the pain was gone. Not abruptly, though. It drifted away like a diminishing rain storm, the light licks and flurries making her wince until they were gone completely.

  Making sure she hadn't in fact, blacked out, Charlotte straightened out a bit on the floor. She clenched and unclenched her fingers and opened her eyes to the baroque chandelier in the center of the ceiling. The room went into super-human focus, as if she were seeing everything for the first time with this odd, newly over-sensitive vision. Certain things about the room bulged and dipped, some of the tinier details moving in and out of focus. Digging her nails into the floor beneath her, she blinked violently, trying to dispel the unsettling side effects. Her breathing remained a shallow panting as she contemplating calling for Sarah.

  But soon, the intensity died down, just as the pain had, though her focus remained extra sharp. She watched the glimmering particles of dust above her like suspended snowflakes in the air, so vivid; she couldn't bear to pull her gaze from them. Wood logs crackled in shimmering amber under a massive fire in the cobblestone fireplace against the south wall. Sitting up slowly, she tucked her legs underneath her bottom in the center of the woven, garnet-colored area rug with the billions of impossibly tiny threads. Charlotte swore she could count them all with these strangely acute eyes. The hem of her ragged, pale dress fanned out on the floor around her as the itchy material of the rug pinpricked at her legs through her stockings like hundreds of tiny shocks.

  Her attention quickly refocused on the vision just outside of the window. She heard something, like branches crunching in the distance. She wondered what kind of creature could be responsible. The sky over the tall pines was a dusty sienna-almost red. The clouds swirled in this enamoring shade of indigo against it as she watched. Her breathing returned to normal, and she tried very hard to calm these new, over heightened senses. She sat there for at least an hour as the fiery shades in the sky grew ever darker. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, her curls combed off her shoulders, she waited for Valek to return.