Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part Two. (The Unnatural Brethren Book 1) Page 2

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  Garden of Darkness

  I had not foreseen it.

  The journey back home had been quite an ordeal, what with my newly acquired aversion towards daylight. It took me more days than anticipated to reach Paris. I traveled as early as I could in the afternoon hours, stopped in small towns sufficiently populated to seize my victims without arousing suspicion, slept all day and then followed the trail that would keep me one step behind them.

  Without hope, but triggered by anger still, I dreamed of one moment only. Unannounced, unexpected, like an unwelcome guest, I would appear in the midst of their lives and... what? I had no plans. I had no clue of what my intentions were towards them.

  Would I kill Pritchard? Would I seek revenge on her too? How could I?

  The coach made a right turn.

  The horses' paced clanking as their hooves struck the cobblestone pavement broke my vindictive train of thought.

  Paris, je suis arrivé.

  I drew back the curtain and peered through the window. Those gates seemed familiar.

  “Stop here,” I said as I knocked on the carriage's roof.

  One of the many wonders I had discovered in my new lifestyle was the delicious freedom that came with traveling lightly. I had no need of a trunk. I bought clothes whenever I needed to and carried enough letters of credit to secure my comfort. I had some pocket money on me, but just enough that it would not constitute a burden.

  The minute I stepped off the carriage, my lungs flooded with the Parisian perfume lingering in the air. But it was not the city's foul stench of human waste what penetrated my nostrils; it was a delicious fragrance I recognized distinctly. It lured me to follow its aromatic trail of roses, lilies, and orchids.

  “You may leave.” I paid the coachman and off he went.

  Easily enough, I leaped over the six-foot-high iron gates and found myself inside the precious garden.

  Last time I had been here, it was on a hot summer's day and I was still human.

  Every detail of that day remained immaculate in my memory.

  Sunbeams filtered through the heavy mass of green foliage; an embracing warmth lingered in the air. The pond's reflective quality landed on my face as shining mirrors, and its mesmerizing song delighted my senses as its cool waters rippled against the stone walls...

  How much it seemed to me like a jungle—a tamed jungle, that is, its tropical vegetation confined and restricted in symmetrical designs and its exotic flowers blooming in bright colors of red, yellow, and purple... Yet, how different it appeared to me now.

  A veil of darkness covered this Garden of Eden, and I found myself discovering it beneath its savage order. Beyond the plenteous layout of ferns, hostas and bromeliads, carnivorous plants opened their inviting traps, luring many an insect, devouring them in a slow and painful death, and poisonous flowers such as wolf's bane and snake lilies filled my eyes with their colorful brilliance.

  “This is not how I remembered it,” I mused. This was not the garden of life I had once seen. Death and carnage happened everywhere I looked. How could this garden have changed so much in so little time?

  Perhaps it had always been this way. Perhaps it was me who had changed and now saw with my vampire eyes this French garden for what it really was, a sample of life's viciousness.

  But far from losing its compelling charm, the garden's new light gave me comfort. It soothed my corrupted heart in more ways than I could explain.

  There is a certain darkness lying dormant inside of us all, and I feared what awakened mine had not been Dristan's mythical blood, no.

  It was her.

  She had stirred the black waters of my soul and polluted my heart with fear, angst, unfathomable desire, and later pain, anger, and the need for revenge. Such a chaotic array of sentiments I dared not appoint to love; however, love it was. It was dark, twisted, and stronger than I ever would have imagined it could be.

  It was this darkened love that was guiding me back to England.

  I moved towards the pond, glad to see its waters' pristine clarity persisted. So much darkness had filled my nights as of recent, I was happy to find some beauty still lying within this precious spot where once I had found laughter and contentment, not long ago.

  My hand ran across the fountain's stone rim and read its surface’s every bump and crevice; the texture was as clear to me as the changing colors of the garden's vegetation, even as night poured in and deprived them of all light.

  I sat and let my gaze wander to the fountain's central sculpture, the angel that had once compelled my mortal eyes into a hypnotic trance. The detailed feathers of her wings ruffled gently beneath the soft wind, and locks of hair faintly fluttered on her forehead. And in that second, she blinked, and her head tilted towards me as she frowned, inspecting me with vacant curious eyes carved of white stone.

  Beyond the tree-branched ceiling, the sky was clear and shimmering bright, with myriad stars pending farther than the mortal eye could see. Condensed masses of gas tinged in purple, red, and bright blue shifted in the sky with relentless movement. The moon's pale luminescence drove me to the point of tears.

  “Who are you and what are you doing in my home?” a voice said.

  So fixed was I, immersed in the evening's dark beauty, that I had failed to perceive another presence in this wondrous jardin.

  I turned and tried to locate the source of that voice. There was movement beyond the foliage. I could have made out the figure in spite of the dim lighting but failed to do so because it remained camouflaged amidst the obscure jungle.

  “You say this is your home, yet you hide beneath its garden's shadows,” I said. “Show yourself, and I will show you who I am.”

  The hunger spoke those last few words for me. It lingered with a subtle throbbing pain that spread through my every limb.

  A flash of white clothes moved towards me.

  “I promise no harm will come to you,” I whispered as I dipped my fingers in the water, creating ripples of my own.

  If not for the moonlight, the garden would have been immersed in pitch-darkness—its soft beams bathed the fountain. I saw my reflection in the water and in that moment, I perceived myself as part of a magical place between ancient myth and reality.

  “And why should I trust you?” she said.

  By the corner of my eye, I noticed her white sleeping gown.

  “Because,” I said, “you have no other choice.”

  The gown flowed as she moved closer. Her bare feet stopped before me. My gaze went upwards, lingering on every seam and embroidered detail of the luxurious fabric, but I stopped breathing as soon as I caught a glimpse of her wavy red hair.

  4

  Shades of Blue

  “Ivan...? Ivan Lockhart, is it really you?”

  My lips parted, but no sound came through.

  Whether it was the moonlight or my accursed heightened senses that enhanced her beauty, I did not know. The fact of the matter was that as my eyes landed on her exquisite frame, it was as if they saw her for the first time.

  A light shade of blue tinged her fair skin, and her pink lips appeared crimson under the evening's lighting. But her eyes remained the same, wide and large, and greener than any of this garden's exotic plant life. Her strawberry-red hair glistened for a second as she moved. And how it struck me as ethereal, her graceful dance when she sat before me.

  Her eyes fixed on mine and with such keenness, it was as if she read in them the truths of my soul. I turned my gaze away, ashamed of what she might discover in them. I feared I might find in her the horrified glance of the parlor maid in Venice, and could not endure becoming such an appalling creature—not in her eyes.

  “Do my senses deceive me?” I whispered. “Is this a dream, an illusion?”

  She held my hand between hers. Their pressing warmth soothed my anxiety.

  “It is no dream, Ivan. I am here,” she said.

  The rippling water blurred. I took a deep breath and waited for my racin
g heart to steady its beat once more.

  “You—you live here?” I said after setting my eyes on her again.

  “I do.”

  Her hand reached my face and her delicate fingers stroked my cheek.

  “Juliette, I—”

  “Glorious Juliette, remember?” she whispered with the hint of a smile.

  “How could I forget?” I mused.

  For a moment, I lost all self-consciousness as I beheld her exotic beauty. Her long wavy red hair fell under her shoulders with such natural grace that she reminded me of an Amazonian goddess.

  A raindrop landed on my hand. A few more splashed in the fountain.

  “It is beginning to rain,” she said. “We should go.” Juliette held my hand and led me through the tamed jungle until we reached a tree-lined path. From there, I could see the manor looming in the distance.

  A thunderstorm poured before we reached the manor's backdoor, and we sought refuge in the garden's folly.

  “Shall we run for it?” she said with a mischievous gaze.

  “I cannot,” I said, and my voice muffled beneath the strike of lightning.

  “It is but a little rain, Ivan. And we could not possibly get any wetter!” Juliette wrung the water from her long hair.

  “It's not that, Juliette.” I could not bring myself to say it. If there had ever been a creature less deserving of deception, it was her.

  “I once said to you that Deveraux Manor would welcome you always,” she said. “Are you ready? Go!”

  She laughed under the heavy rain, running barefoot in her nightgown, water dripping from her hair, completely carefree and devoid of any veil of propriety. I loved every minute as I followed her footsteps towards the house, walking without hurry so as to witness this precious scene in its entirety.

  We sat before the fireplace in the maid's small parlor.

  Juliette changed into one of the maid's aprons and dried her hair with a cloth. I recognized the sudden sullenness in her demeanor.

  She must have been ashamed of her family's secret, burdened by the sins of her ancestor—the one who died in the Valais trials. But those stories meant nothing to me. I cared little for the social stigma they entailed and I needed her to know it, to put her mind at ease.

  “Juliette, you must know—”

  “You may speak louder if you wish, Ivan. There is no one home but you and me—and the parlor maid of course, but she sleeps.”

  “Why is that?”

  “My family decided to travel abroad, and Amsterdam suited their interests; however, it did not suit mine. So, I stayed,” she said. “But you were saying something else...”

  “Ah, yes... I see no other way to say this, so I'll just say it. The story behind the Red Devil's nickname came to my knowledge a few months ago. I'm so sorry... I know how this rumor haunts you. But you must not allow it to stain your life, Juliette. Whether those rumors are true or not, we are not defined by the deeds of our forefathers.”

  She stared at me, bemused. “Ivan...”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember that day, when we escaped the Jardin du Roi, and I led you here?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “And I took you to that fountain, and we dipped our bare feet in its refreshing waters—”

  “The thought had crossed my mind when I arrived at the Jardin du Roi. It was such a hot day... It amazed me when you suggested it. It was as if you had somehow—”

  “Read your mind?” she said with a knowing look.

  “What do you mean, Juliette? Are you saying you were really able to pick up my ardent desire the day we met? Are you saying your family's legend is true?”

  “It is true,” she said. “My family has been deep in the Craft for centuries. We Deverauxes are one of the oldest families of true witches that survived the Trials.

  “That day, in the Jardin du Roi, your thoughts were much too strong, and I caught them with ease. I had not planned on reading your mind, you understand.”

  Her words paralyzed me. Still, I had to say something.

  “Then the charges were true... They killed your ancestor in the Valais trials because she was a witch.”

  “Oh, no! They did not kill her, Ivan. Camille escaped. She was pregnant at the time and would not allow the inquisitors to kill both her and her baby.”

  After a brief moment of silence, I spoke.

  “Are you a witch, Juliette?”

  “I am.”

  She stood and moved the chair beside me, and as she sat, her hand gripped mine. Juliette then spoke close to my ear.

  “I have been honest with you, Ivan,” she whispered. “Now the time has come for you to be honest with me.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “Last time I saw you... well, I find you are much changed.” She paused. “Did it happen in Venice?”

  My heart pumped its vicious blood faster and pounded hard in my ears. Those last few words had plunged deep into my soul and stirred painful daggers in the pit of my stomach.

  I rose from the seat, ready to run and leave behind this manor and its exotic Garden of Eden, but she held my hand.

  “Juliette, I—” I cannot bring myself to answer your question. I have no heart to break yours... words eluded me.

  “Ivan, I know.” She pressed my hand and stood before me. “I see the change in you. It is as clear to me as daylight... How many sunrises has it been since?”

  She caressed my face with tenderness and searched my eyes for an answer. And in hers, I found not a trace of disdain, nor the faintest shred of judgment; no fear whatsoever... nothing but the purest form of love.

  I dared not blink; otherwise, tears would fall and I would lose whatever restraint had held me together up to this point.

  “How do you know?”

  “Have you not seen it yourself?” she said as she persuaded me towards the looking glass pending from the wall behind me.

  I turned and acknowledged my reflection as I had scarcely done upon my transformation, and I saw it. I drew closer only to assimilate the small discrepancies I found between my former self and the creature now looming onto the reflective surface.

  Even by candlelight, the paleness of my skin stood out as the most evident difference, but not so much as to cause horror or make me seem unwell. It rather came as no surprise to me since I had been shunning sunlight for so many weeks. And I had to admit it suited the beauty standards expected from the upper classes. Women and men powdered their faces to attain such complexion as I had acquired by this vampiric gift.

  The most noticeable change concerned my eyes. Their color had shifted from deep green to a more translucent shade. If not for this hint of color, they would have seemed completely transparent.

  There were other changes too which would pass unnoticed to the mortal eye. For instance, the small blood vessels surrounding my face; I could distinguish them without effort, empty as they were, deprived of the blood I so craved at this late hour.

  “You see it now,” she mused. “Times have been difficult in the last few centuries for us. Vampires and witches, we have learned to share our worlds in peace for many years now.”

  I stood in awe.

  “Venice is plagued with them,” she said, pouring herself a glass of red wine. “And you—such a strong and beautiful creature, with so much passion for life... I had feared they might try to sink their fangs into you, Ivan. And of course, they did.” She paused. “Tell me, do you dislike your new condition?”

  I paced before the fire, waiting for these extraordinary revelations to sink in my brain before speaking. “This feels strange to me. For too long, I have carried in secret this change as you call it. I have not been this open about it with anyone, not even with—”

  “Alisa? Is she one of yours too?”

  “No. She's not,” I said. “And to answer your other question, no. I do not dislike my present condition. If anything, I fear I have embraced my new lifestyle all too easily.”

  I lowered
my gaze. Being knowledgeable in witchcraft, I was certain Juliette was also familiarized with my new means of survival. And that was nothing to be proud of—not in her eyes, at least.

  “I am glad to hear it. It is better this way,” she mused. “Any news of Pritchard and your delightful sister?”

  Juliette Deveraux never ceased to amaze me. My revelation had seemed to her no more shocking than if I were speaking of the weather.

  “News? What sort of news were you expecting?”

  Juliette flustered. “Nothing in particular... Last I heard, Pritchard was determined on leaving Paris for the first time in ages—all in pursuit of joining you in Venice.”

  “Well, he did show up in Venice...” I mumbled. “But I'm afraid my awakening into Darkness kept me detached from him and from Alisa.”

  “So, you have not seen them since—?”

  “Since I became a vampire,” I added. “I have not. The day I came back to our lodgings, they had already departed Venice on their way to England—seeking my whereabouts, I should imagine.”

  “And now, you are to return to England?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, then...” she spoke, but her mind wandered elsewhere. “You must stay here and rest while you prepare for the journey. This house is entirely our own for the following weeks.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say.” I frowned, perplexed by her kindness.

  “You can have any room you wish,” Juliette said as she stood on the parlor's threshold. “I must catch on my sleep and you.... Well, I am certain you have other pressing matters to attend.”

  The hunt. It was the only way to silence the hunger building up inside me.

  “I expect I will see you tomorrow?” she said.

  “And tomorrow, and tomorrow.” I finished the bard’s quote with half a smile.

  Juliette’s eyes glimmered with what I perceived as hope, longing for the days to come in each other’s company… Who would have thought this demon would still have a place in her heart?

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