“Yes, to all of the above,” I answered honestly before something else occurred to me. “You said your response to my question was a long and involved one,” I started as I cocked my head to the side and studied her. “That didn’t seem too long or involved.”
“The desire to inspire fear is only part of the reason I do not show my face,” the maid responded. “The other reason is to retain my own protection and safety.”
That side of the equation was one I could wrap my mind around more easily. If your identity was a mystery not only to your enemies, but even to your own people, it would be much more difficult for an assassin to murder you or someone within your ranks to rat you out. Clearly, the Darkness, whether a person, an entity or whatever the hell it was, must have studied all the implications of this whole thing through and through.
“So that clears up a lot of the questions I had regarding your motivations in not showing yourself,” I started. “But I’m still not exactly sure what you want with me,” I finished, figuring it was time for us to move on to more important conversations. “Jax said I’m collateral. That makes me wonder if you’re planning to negotiate some sort of a tradeoff with the ANC. Something like offering me in exchange for access to the portals or something along those lines.” I took a short breath. “But, as far as I can tell, based on everything I’ve experienced with the Rebellion so far, there’s no need for that. You seem to be doing a pretty good job of securing the portals yourself, that is, if BrokenView is any example of your power.”
The maid nodded and remained quiet for a few seconds. “Jax is incorrect,” she said at last.
“Incorrect? About what?”
“You are not collateral,” she answered. “You are much more important to me than that.”
“Then if I’m not collateral, what am I?” I asked as another idea occurred to me. “And why does Jax seem so convinced that collateral is all I am?”
“I will answer your second question,” the maid started. “I do not believe Rochefort needs to be informed of my plans or motivations. He is simply a pawn whom I have hired to obey my orders. I prefer to keep things that way. As to why he would call you collateral, I can only surmise that he must have reached that conclusion all on his own.”
“Okay, then why did you say I’m not collateral, but something more important?” I pressed.
“That is a future conversation, which I promise to have with you at some point in time,” she answered as she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. “But not at this moment. For now, your focus needs to be entirely on repairing your body.”
“I’m tired of having all my questions left unanswered,” I complained as I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. I was so sick of getting the runaround. And now that I’d finally “met” the Darkness, I had even more questions.
“I sincerely apologize for that, but on this subject, I will not bend,” the maid announced, very matter-of-factly. “The most important thing to me now, as it should also be to you, is your health. You must return your body to its happily functioning and fully restored state. Once you are rested, fed and feeling well again, we will resume this conversation. On that subject, you have my word.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but your word doesn’t mean much, if anything, to me.”
“I understand your reservations now, but it is as it must be,” the maid said with finality. “And on that note, I must bid you adieu.”
Before I could say another word in reply, the maid’s head jerked forward and her eyes suddenly rolled down, right back into their rightful position. She looked slightly disoriented for a moment or two and seemed to be staring at the ground until she, apparently, regained her bearings. It took her a few seconds and I noticed that she refused to look at me during this time. It was almost as if she were embarrassed by what just happened to her.
“Are you okay?” I asked, feeling half-annoyed at myself that I even cared, but I did. Even though she was a lowly ranked servant, she was still my sworn enemy, as far as I was concerned. I found it increasingly important to remind myself that I was still inside an establishment filled with my enemies. No one was going to do me any favors here. It was important not to forget that.
“Y-y-yes,” she answered as she offered me a little smile before she continued staring at the floor. She looked as if she were trying to recall what she’d been doing before her body was briefly possessed.
“Does it hurt you?” I asked, this time using a softer voice. I imagined the conversation might have caused her some degree of embarrassment, if her most recent actions were any indication. “I mean, when he borrows your body to communicate?” I added when she looked like she was at a loss.
“Oh, um, no, no, it doesn’t hurt,” she replied with another apologetic smile. Then she eyed the copper bathtub as she seemed to remember what she’d been tasked with before her body was possessed. “Your bath is ready, madam,” she added. “Please take advantage of the hot water before it cools.” She approached me and momentarily caught me with her eyes, and then she dropped her gaze to the top of the bed. “Do you require any assistance undressing?” she asked. Then, something else seemed to occur to her, and she popped her head back up as she approached the closet. “Oh, I forgot to mention, there is a change of clothing ready for you,” she said as she opened one of the closet doors. Reaching in, she pulled out a hanger with a long, black dress dangling off it.
“Thanks,” I said as I eyed the thing with disinterest. In general, I don’t wear dresses. They’re too awkward and suffocating, making it hard to fight or otherwise defend yourself. Give me a pair of jeans or yoga stretch pants and an old shirt over a dress or skirt any day, or night. “And, no, I don’t need any help undressing,” I answered. Glancing down at my T-shirt, I looked back up at her. “This comes off pretty easily,” I explained. “However, if you could assist me in getting into the bathtub, that would be much appreciated,” I added, as soon as I realized I didn’t possess the mere strength it took to get in there myself.
“Of course,” the maid answered as she hurried back to my side, carrying the black dress with her. She laid it out on top of the duvet and smoothed out the creases, looking upon it with what appeared to be admiration. Then she turned back to face me and took the five or so steps that separated us. Bending over, she firmly gripped me by my upper arms as she hoisted me up.
I even surprised myself when I decided to give the bath a try. I wasn’t fully convinced that it really could restore my health to me. There was a nagging doubt at the back of my mind that suggested it could have been full of poison or something similar that would seep into my skin and eventually kill me. But, in the end, I figured that was pretty unlikely. If the Darkness wanted me dead, he could have accomplished that relatively simple task a long time ago. I could only imagine Jax would have been very happy to take care of the cruel deed himself. The primary reason I decided on the bath was because I wanted to wash off the memories of Jax and what he’d done to me, even if it were only a symbolic gesture. And, I figured if it did heal me in the process, that was just an added bonus.
The maid pulled me toward her and brought me onto my feet; then, she assisted me by holding my arms as I attempted to walk the four steps that separated me from the bathtub. My wings instantly began to flutter and flap, thereby aiding her slightly by lifting me into the air a few inches. Using them to her advantage, she simply aimed me in the direction of the bath. As soon as I grasped the lip of the tub, my wings stopped beating and I drifted gracefully back down to the ground. She supported me by holding my waist, but despite her assistance, I was still pretty winded and dizzy. I had to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths before I felt lucid enough to dare to lift one of my legs over the side of the bathtub and into the water.
As soon as my foot touched the water, I felt a vibration that traveled right up my leg. It wasn’t alarming or anything, but I noticed it all the same. I took another big breath as I brought my other leg over the side, and then I
had to bend over so I wouldn’t pass out. I closed my eyes and concentrated exclusively on my breathing so I wouldn’t fall victim to the vertigo. The maid, probably sensing how close I was to losing it, gripped me more tightly beneath my arms as she coaxed me downward, eventually allowing me to sit in the tub. The hot water felt like nothing short of heaven as it flowed around my waist, the tiny vibrations now sizzling mostly around my legs and midsection. I assumed the pulsations were owing to the magic infused in the water. It seemed like an entity in itself as it sought out whatever damage Jax had done to me and repaired it. Well, not just Jax, but Bram too, for that matter.
“Thank you,” I said to the maid in all sincerity. I also wanted to let her know I was fine and could be left on my own now.
She immediately stood up and obliged me with a quick curtsey as well as a nod of her head before she turned around and left me again to my solitude.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Bram
I was not certain how many minutes passed. Vander continued to stand at the rear of my Porsche, fully divested in whatever he was witnessing on his mobile phone. Personally speaking, I must admit that I was not eager for his return. I did not know what my behavior or actions towards him should be. In general, I am not someone that others seek when they require compassion, solace or comfort. Those emotions are estranged and foreign to me and, perhaps, I radiate that information without having to announce it. Thankfully, no one has ever relied on me for such. Furthermore, were it required of me to perform such conciliatory acts, I am not entirely convinced I would even know how! In general, I am not in the least bit comfortable at the notion of myself offering, much less providing, such altruism. The whole concept feels very awkward and unfamiliar to me. As such, I was and still am wholly turned off by it. Not to mention that offering such an act of empathy to Vander made me even more discontented. While Vander and I were not exactly enemies, we were most certainly not friends. I would hesitate even to label us acquaintances as that word also carries with it a sense of intimacy in its connotation.
My angst-ridden inner monologue was rudely interrupted when Vander suddenly opened the driver’s door. I was so entrenched in my own prevailing thoughts that his unexpected appearance surprised me. Without a single look at me, he sat down behind the wheel, not bothering to even close the door after him. Neither of us spoke a word. He simply stared straight ahead as I examined him and wondered what words I should say. I was beyond convinced that there was little or nothing I could do to alleviate the situation, but I supposed it was custom to at least attempt it. I continued to deliberate, staging and restaging the situation as I racked my brain for some way to lift his clearly sagging spirits.
“I owe you an apology,” Vander said at last. I did not fail to notice, however, that he spoke without bothering to look in my direction. It was almost as if he were addressing the windshield. I was so flabbergasted by his unsolicited admission, I did not respond. That was just as well, because he did not stop speaking, all while still staring straight ahead rather than at me.
“I believed the worst of you,” he started, “as I always have.” He glanced down at the steering wheel and sighed while shaking his head slightly. “But after seeing what I did …” The words died on his tongue. I was not certain if it were a recent development or perhaps I had merely missed it earlier, but his eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
The ensuing silence in the vehicle soon became deafening, if only because it highlighted my utter failure to respond. Even though I continued to rack my brain with hypothetical replies, I could not seem to arrive at one which would satisfy both of us. Finally, the persistent quiet became too much for me to bear. I said aloud the next thought that entered my head.
“Was it so terrible?”
Vander turned to face me then, and I instantly wished he had not. The weight of experience after viewing whatever hideousness he must have witnessed was now crushing down on him visibly. His shoulders sagged and his chest seemed as if it were caving in on itself, causing his head to jut forward. Even though the burden of his knowledge was not visible, it was bearing down on him all the same.
“You don’t know? The extent of it?” he began with genuine surprise registering in his dark blue eyes. “You weren’t there to witness any of it?”
“No,” I answered with a quick shake of my head. “I was rather fixated on being bled to death, and owing to that, I must admit I was quite delirious and not very lucid.”
Vander nodded as if he understood me and my terse explanation resonated with him. “Yes, of course,” he said in a small voice as he continued to stare at the steering wheel. From what I could see of his eyes, he was suffering from the pangs of terrible regret. “I don’t know why I asked you. I already knew you weren’t there, so of course, you wouldn’t have known what happened.”
“May I ask,” I started before clearing my throat as I wondered if I were approaching sensitive territory, or an area that should have been forbidden to me. “May I ask exactly what you did see?” I cleared my throat again, feeling as if I should explain myself further. “I must admit I fail to comprehend what this ‘imprint,’ as you call it, means in relation to you and Dulcie.”
Vander sighed and nodded but remained quiet for a few seconds. Then he took a deep breath and opened his mouth twice, only to close it again as if he were experiencing false starts. When he did it a third time, I half wondered if the words were simply so deeply lodged in his throat that they refused to be heard.
“If your recollection of the event is too difficult a task, or causes you too much pain to relate, I understand fully,” I began. I did not want to encourage him to delve into subjects which quite possibly were beyond his ability to face at the moment. I was genuinely surprised to find that I actually did care about Vander’s feelings. Empathy was so extraordinary an emotion in relation to me and not one I could have ever imagined experiencing with regard to Vander. I half wondered if losing all my blood and replacing it with Dulcie’s had not somehow redistributed some of her kindness and understanding onto me …
“No,” he answered immediately as he shook his head. “It is important you know,” he quickly resumed, taking a deep breath as if he were resigned to enlightening me. “It’s important that we both know precisely what we’re up against.”
I could only assume his last statement was a reference to Rochefort. “Very well,” I said with a brief nod. “Whenever you are ready to inform me, I shall be ready to listen.”
“When Dulcie encountered the witch at BrokenView, the witch actually touched her,” Vander started, his tone purposeful and direct. “In doing so, she was able to pull out Dulcie’s memories. In a matter of milliseconds, the witch sorted through Dulcie’s memory bank and isolated only those which applied specifically to the current situation’s unrest.”
“You mean the unrest with the Rebellion and Rochefort?” I asked just to be sure I was following him correctly.
“Yes,” Vander nodded as he continued. “Through magic, or what Sam termed an ‘imprint,’ the witch managed to save Dulcie’s memories. Sam sent me these memories so I could see exactly what Dulcie saw, and see what she experienced.”
“And that is all that you witnessed then?” I inquired.
Vander nodded. “Yes. I witnessed everything Dulcie did. I saw everything, but clearly, from her perspective.”
“Then you must review for me the role I had to play when I discovered her nearly dead,” I replied, even though I doubted whether I truly wanted to know the extent of my own crimes.
“I know what you did to her was beyond your control,” Vander said, his voice dropping lower. “You were set up, Bram. You were merely an ignorant pawn in Jax’s fucked-up game of domination.”
“All I can remember is finding Dulcie lying limp in my lap,” I recalled as I shook my head against the flood of memories that suddenly overwhelmed me. “She was naked,” I continued before a horrible thought sparked my mind. “Please assure me she was not … violate
d?”
“No,” he said and shook his head immediately. “She wasn’t, thank Hades.”
I nodded and inwardly sighed with relief. I could not bear the idea of any of those barbarians taking something so precious from my sweet.
“Go on,” Vander said as I tried to recall where I had been in my narration.
“Ah, yes,” I said as the memories returned. “She was lying upon my lap and her tiny body was so badly beaten and broken and torn. I instantly assumed I was the responsible party.”
“No, you weren’t,” Vander replied, his voice sounding suddenly very strained as his jaw tightened.
“I must accept all responsibility, however, for very nearly draining her of her life’s blood,” I said, sighing inwardly with relief that I had not otherwise harmed her. Of course, I had already previously rationalized my behavior to myself. I felt sure I would never have treated my sweet in such a manner, but confirming that it was the absolute truth from another person filled me with a sense of liberation that I did not earlier possess and found incomparable.
“Yes, but you were also a victim of your own bloodlust,” Vander answered quietly. “You know that as well as I do; once you get starved to that point, there is no coming back. There was nothing you could have done about it and no way you could have resisted its power.”
“Yes, that is so.”
“And I saw exactly what happened, Bram,” he continued as he faced me with a more earnest expression. When he started speaking again, however, he returned his attention to the scenery outside the vehicle and straight ahead of us. “As soon as you realized what you’d done, you immediately tried to correct your actions. You could have left her for dead then, but you didn’t.” He turned to face me again and I saw something in his eyes which had not been there before. Was it gratitude?