He walked into what was presumably his bedroom and returned wearing a black robe. “Who let you out?”
When I ignored his question, he reached to open the door but I slammed my back against it.
“I’m not going anywhere until you give me some answers.”
He rubbed his face with his hands and sighed heavily. “I don’t need this hassle. Get out.”
“Open the main door, and I’ll disappear into the night. Nobody will ever know you let me escape. It could have been anyone in this castle who left the door open.”
He shook his head and glared at me.
“You really think it’s that easy for a human to escape this place? There’s a spell around this island to keep it cold. Even if you made it down to the sea without getting caught or dying of hypothermia, and somehow broke into one of the submarines and figured out how to navigate it, there’s another spell preventing anyone getting out unless they have permission.”
“Then why don’t you just leave with me now?” I said, tugging on the sleeve of his robe. “Or when the witch is doing something else. She never has to know.”
It seemed that he’d had enough of the conversation. He marched me outside and dragged me down the stairs.
He stopped outside of my door and pushed it open.
“No!”
I clung onto the doorframe as he tried to bundle me inside.
“You’re not locking me up in here again.”
He grabbed both of my hands and pried them away from the door. I leaped at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. My sudden motion made him lose his footing and he stumbled backward into the hallway, his back slamming against the wall.
He gripped my legs and pried them away from him. Then he did the same with my arms.
I stood in the hallway, glaring at him. He glared back at me.
“All right!” he shouted. “I won’t lock the door. But if you attempt to escape, you’ll end up getting yourself killed or worse. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
I didn’t nod, but I didn’t object either. He turned on his heel to leave. I was tempted to shout out after him why he couldn’t just escape with me and why he had to listen to what the witch said, but I figured that this was a good first step. I was no longer locked up in that little apartment like a prisoner.
Instead, I was locked up in the castle.
I can’t believe he couldn’t smuggle me out of this place if he really wanted to.
Chapter 20: Rose
That evening as I was lying in bed, I heard the sounds again.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Against my ceiling. I threw the covers off me and stood up on my bed, trying to get closer to the noises.
“Say it,” the witch hissed.
I heard another groan. And the sound of a fireplace spitting.
“I’m losing patience with you.”
The smashing of glass. The screeching of heavy furniture against the floor.
Grabbing my dressing gown, I ran out my front door and crept up the stairs. I didn’t stop until I reached Caleb’s door. I pressed my ear against it, the voices now clearer.
“I need you to say it.”
“No,” Caleb grunted, low and deep. “Never.”
I pushed the door open, wincing as it clicked. I froze.
Oh, no.
There was a silence as the witch came into view at the other end of the corridor. She wore a long dark green dress, her loose hair running down her back. She sported a black eye and a deep bloody cut beneath her collarbone.
As soon as our eyes locked, fury sparked in hers. She walked over to me.
“Well, look who’s here,” she whispered, her voice dangerously low.
Before I could stagger back, she reached out and clutched my throat. I tried to scream, but it came out as a garbled choke. She was crushing my windpipe.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to eavesdrop?”
I gripped her hand, trying to pry her clammy fingers away from my throat, but it was useless.
“Leave her.”
The words came as a deep growl from across the corridor.
Caleb stood in the doorway, a gash beneath his lower eye, his shirt ripped and blood seeping through from several gashes on his chest.
The witch chuckled and continued to grip my throat, applying more pressure by the second.
Caleb launched himself at the witch. Gripping her neck, he held her in a choke until she released me.
I slid down the wall, gasping and rubbing my throat.
“Don’t take this out on her,” he snarled, hurling the witch against the marble floor. “And don’t drag her into your sick game.”
“You dare,” the witch hissed, her eyes dilating with fury, her cheeks crimson.
“Yes, I dare,” Caleb bellowed back down at her. “There’s nothing more of me you can break.”
The witch got to her feet, straightened out her dress, then after glaring daggers at me she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
His eyes burning with fury and his whole body still heaving, Caleb turned around and walked further into his apartment. He disappeared into a room at the end of the corridor, but he didn’t shut his door. I got to my feet and approached the door. I pushed the door open and entered.
As I looked around, I was horrified by the state the place was in. His spacious apartment appeared to be open plan—his bedroom, kitchen and lounge all ran into each other. The wallpaper was torn, canvas paintings on the wall ripped. Bloodstained bedding was strewn all over the floor. The curtains were ripped almost to shreds. Caleb sat in the corner of the bedroom, his back turned to me, in a wooden armchair. A bottle of liquor by his side, he was pouring himself a shot. I watched as he downed it in one gulp.
I approached his chair tentatively.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, without turning around. But he made no motion to pick me up and throw me out the door as he had done the day before.
I walked around and stood so that I was facing him. I stared at the gash beneath his right eye that was beginning to heal slowly.
“What happened?” I breathed.
He shook his head and downed another shot.
“Why do you allow her to treat you this way? Are you ruler of this island or not?”
He got up and walked over to the open balcony door, where he stood, gazing out at the starry night sky. The full moon shone down on his chiseled form.
The living room and kitchen area were in a much less damaged state than the bedroom. My eyes fell upon a collection of classical instruments in the corner of the lounge.
Since he didn’t seem to be willing to answer my questions, I asked, “You play?”
He looked over his shoulder at me as I pointed toward the instruments in the corner.
A faint smile crossed his face.
“No,” he said quietly. “Not any more.”
I walked over to the instruments and was impressed by the quality of their build. They were covered in a thick coat of dust, as though they hadn’t been touched for months, maybe even years. Although I specialized in the piano and the harp, I could play most instruments I saw here. My father was a master of many and had given Ben and I lessons in most.
I absentmindedly ran my hand over the top of the grand piano. Lifting up its cover, I sat down and stretched out my fingers over the keys. I began to play a tune. Soft, haunting, melancholic. I smiled bitterly—my father had played this for my mother when they’d first met.
Caleb left the balcony and walked over to me, placing his glass on top of the piano, staring down at me as I played. It was unnerving at first, playing beneath the intensity of his gaze, but I didn’t let it distract me.
When I finished, I looked up at him. He hadn’t moved an inch the whole time. His eyes had glazed over, as if his mind had wandered somewhere else.
“I’d like you to play for me again… Rose,” he whispered finally.
The way he said my name w
as gentle, as though his tongue was caressing the word. The attention he was giving me was unnerving—I was used to him brushing me away whenever he could. Perhaps it’s just because he’s drunk? I sure do strange things when I’m drunk. I stared into his eyes, trying to read him. The way he was looking at me was confusing. It was as though he was conflicted as to whether he ought to be looking at me at all.
“O-okay,” I murmured.
Although I didn’t get any of the answers that I needed that night, one thing had become clearer than ever. If anyone had the power and ability to get me out of there and save my brother, it was Caleb. And at that moment, befriending him—or at least trying to—seemed to be the only available option.
Chapter 21: Rose
I was woken the next morning by a knock at my door. I got out of bed and looked around. But whoever it was had already vanished.
A black bundle sat on my doorstep. I picked it up and shut the door, then walked over to my bed and unravelled it.
Wrapped up in a black sheet were clothes. Underwear, beautiful gowns, fluffy slippers, and a warm woolen coat.
About time, I thought. I’ve been walking around in this apartment barefoot with blankets pulled over me in this smelly old nightgown ever since I got here.
I took a shower and, discarding the old nightgown in a bin, I pulled on fresh underwear. I was relieved that it was the stretchy, comfortable type and not the itchy, lacy kind. Then I reached for one of the gowns and pulled it over my head. It was deep purple and made of silk. I layered the coat on top and looked in the mirror.
Hm. Not too shabby.
I brushed my hands through my hair to tame it.
Now all I need is Kristal’s makeup.
Kristal. Her name sent a dagger through my chest. I prayed that nothing had happened to her or her brother. If anything does, it will be all Ben’s and my fault.
I have to get out of here and save all of them.
Putting on the slippers, I decided to leave the room and go for another roam around the castle.
Walking around confirmed that Caleb was my only hope. Apart from Frieda, no other vampire would even speak to me. They avoided me in the corridors. I tried to talk to one of them, and she gave me a funny look and hurried off.
I reached the ground floor and walked from hall to hall until, at the back of the building, I found the entrance to the kitchen Frieda had taken me to.
I walked around, running my hand along the metal counter. The kitchen was huge—as big as any of the other halls.
I wonder where they keep all the humans? If these vampires drink their blood, it would be convenient to keep them near the kitchen. Perhaps in a dungeon. That’s normally where the poor mortals end up being stuffed in fairy tales.
I looked around the room for any sign of a door in the wall, or a trap door, but found none.
Hmm.
And then I heard it. Distant sobbing. I held my breath as I tried to make out from which direction it was coming.
I retraced my steps back out of the kitchen and took a sharp right turn. I walked along the corridor until I reached an open door. I peeped through it. In a hall I’d never passed by before, a woman perched on the windowsill, the window flung wide open. Her whole body convulsed as she cried out against the mountain wind.
The witch? Huh?
Her wailing was so heart-wrenching, I had to remind myself how she had treated me and Caleb to stop myself from going up to her and asking her what on earth was wrong. I had never expected such a creature could experience sorrow and grief. Even the witches back at The Shade were guarded with their emotions. So to see this woman howling disturbed me deeply.
I stood dumbstruck for several minutes. I was knocked to my senses only when footsteps came down the main staircase. I scrambled away in time to see three male vampires descend into the entrance hall and walk straight through to the dining room. I climbed back up the stairs and returned to my apartment.
Shivering, I jumped into bed and curled up beneath the blankets, the witch’s wails still echoing in my head. Her grief reached into the marrow of my bones.
Whatever and wherever this place is, its halls are haunted with sorrow and pain.
I miss The Shade.
I miss home.
Chapter 22: Rose
The noises started again soon after midnight. I tried blocking my ears with my hands and curling up in a ball, but I couldn’t stop the sounds from trickling through into my ear drums, disturbing me enough to ensure that night would yet again be sleepless.
I pulled on a dress and my coat and rushed out of the room. I crept up the stairs once again but this time, instead of opening the door, I sat down in a corner of the corridor, outside the room, beneath the shadow of a tapestry hanging on the wall. My imagination ran wild with images of what could be going on in there.
When the door handle finally turned, I held my breath as the witch exited, her hair disheveled, her dress awry. Once she had disappeared down the corridor, I stood up and eased Caleb’s door open. I slid inside and closed it behind me.
I crept along the wrecked corridor and peeked around the corner.
The balcony doors were open, the curtains blowing in the wind. I walked over to them and pulled them aside to see Caleb standing in the cold, leaning against the banister, his muscled back bare and scarred with bloody cuts.
I couldn’t help but gasp. But although he must have heard it, he didn’t turn around.
I stood next to him and looked up at his face. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the ocean sparkled beneath the light of the moon.
I was at a loss for what to say to him anymore. He didn’t respond to my questions about anything that was going on. I questioned why I even came up here. Somehow, after I’d heard the noises from the witch’s visit, I just couldn’t ignore it and go back to sleep as if nothing had happened. I had wanted to see his face. Look him in the eye. So instead I found myself mumbling, “Did you bring me these?” I indicated to my dress and coat.
“Frieda,” he muttered, without looking down at me.
“But you asked her to?”
He breathed out and shivered. He walked back into the room. I followed him, closing the balcony doors behind us.
He took a seat in his wooden chair, but this time he didn’t reach for liquor.
“Thank you, is what I was going to say if you’d have given me the chance,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest. I paused, then, still eyeing him closely, said, “Would you like me to play for you again?”
From the blank expression on his face, he hadn’t heard. But then he shook his head.
“Oh. OK,” I said.
I sat down on the bed opposite him and dropped the coat down over my shoulders, staring at him. The bloody cuts on his torso and back were beginning to heal.
“Why did you come here?” he said, standing up abruptly and making eye contact with me for the first time.
Maybe he was just drunk last night when he indicated he’d like to see me again.
His eyes were so intense as they bored into mine, it felt as though I might melt beneath them. But I stood my ground. “So you want me to leave? Is that what you’re saying?” I stared up at him, my eyebrows raised in challenge.
He glared at me. I glared back harder.
He sat back down.
“You know, you don’t exactly strike me as the happiest of sorts,” I said, my hands on my hips as I continued glaring at him. “A little smiling never did anyone any harm.”
Whoa. I sound like my mother. She always was Little Miss Sunshine.
A bitter smile curled at the corner of his lips, then he breathed out a sigh and relaxed a little, his jaw becoming less tense.
“So,” he said after a few moments. “You want to play for me again?”
“If that’s what you’d like.”
He nodded. “All right… Rose.” He swiveled in his chair so that he was facing the lounge.
His eyes followed me as I walked over to the
instruments. This time, I didn’t sit down at the piano. I rummaged around until I reached a large instrument which I suspected to be a harp. I pulled off its cover and was pleased to see that my assumption had been correct.
Wiping away the dust from the strings, I sat down on the bench and placed the harp between my legs. I began to strum a melody.
His eyes never left me the whole time I was playing. I could have sworn that his foot tapped slightly to the beat. After I’d grown tired of playing the harp, I moved on to the violin. Then the guitar. Then I sat back down at the piano.
As I started playing the keys, Caleb stood up abruptly. Crossing the room, he sat next to me on the bench. I stopped playing and looked up at him.
“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Don’t stop.”
Still eyeing him, I continued playing. He stretched out his fingers on the keys of the upper portion of the piano and began playing the perfect accompaniment to my tune. He played as though he knew it by heart. He barely even looked up at the music sheet.
When the piece finished, my hands slid off the keys and I looked at him, my mouth hanging open.
He stared down at the piano, as though he was as surprised as I was by what he’d just done.
“That’s the first time I’ve touched an instrument in a long time,” he breathed.
“Caleb, that was stunning.”
I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched as soon as my fingers touched his bare skin.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt—”
“No. No,” he muttered, even as he shot to his feet and walked back across the room to his wooden seat.
I stood up too.
We stared at each other from across the room.
I don’t know what to make of this man.
Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, I averted my eyes and looked around the room. It was then, hidden away in a corner, that I spotted something out of place. It was a stereo player. I walked over to it and ran my fingers along its ledge. Beneath it were stacks of CDs.
So maybe this is how he practices his dance moves.