The faint sound of Ray’s words still filled my mind with a frustration and yearning to know more. What was he going to say? Why had he taken off? I shook my head harshly, dismissing the thoughts and leaning back against the bathtub, letting the water creep over my shoulders as the scent of vanilla soap rose and filled my nose. It’s presence soothing, loosening my muscles, making my body feel in one piece again. Only one more night. Then it’ll be over. But it never would be over, whatever is happening to me will change who I am. My life and future, as a lady of London would evaporate, the promise written in sand, for the waves to wash away. The thought is something that cannot fend off the chill I feel now, remembering the transformation at it’s most vicious, it’s most merciless. I lifted my hands out of the water and inspected them in the candlelight, the marks on my wrists were gone, only the pale complexion of my skin showing through. The nails had already begun to heal, a few having been ripped off completely, now were nearly grown back to their original length. Lucy had said that her healing would work fast, but never had I imagined her ability to be so…. fast.
“Is everything okay for you?” Cooed the soft voice to indicate Lucy had returned with another dress she had promised before leaving me to my own thoughts.
I sat up and reached for the towel, “I’ll be just a moment, just admiring your work.”
“Thank you, it’s nice to know my gift is appreciated by others.” Her voice carried into the room and held a smile.
I stepped out of the bath and wrapped the towel around me, walking through the screen and slipping on my underskirts Lucy had left clean for me. The material was soft against my damp skin and hugged my body comfortably for something meant to be so tight. Lucy’s humming began to sound and I slowly walked into the bedroom. She stood at the end of the bed and gently lifted a grey dress, brushing it lightly and lying it down by the foot of the headboard. I knew she was aware I was now in the room, her shoulders tightening slightly even though her back is to me and my footsteps remained silent, another gift the transformation gives I presume. She slowly straightened up and turned, a smile on her face as she brushed down her own skirts.
“Here is the dress.” She indicated at the frock on the bed and then shrugged, “The colour is not as intense as the black but I’m afraid we lack creativity in our wardrobes. Perhaps your own influence can help make the dresses a little more creative.” The gold of her eyes glinted at the amusement and her smile lit up her face, making her strong features soften and show her youth even more.
I shrugged, “I don’t mind, honestly, it’s better than the clothes I spent the night in. I am grateful.”
Her smile widened, “Well let me help you into it, the lacing is always a pain to do by yourself.”
I smiled back and nodded, walking over to the bed and watching as she lifted the dress up into the light, letting the length of it loom over her and show her small height. The candlelight flickered against the grey and the colour shot me back to the paintings in the study, the one of battles. There was a smaller one by Papa’s chair, said to have be painted around the time of the Napoleon wars. The ships crashing through the huge seas, their sailors furiously pulling the ropes in, a few with their swords un-sheathed and raised to the sky, the grey of the clouds sharp and powerful in the array of different colors. As the sunbeams came through the curtains, I began to see how delicate Lucy’s arms were, and the glint of a mark on her wrist. I stepped forward slightly and stared at it more. No. Not a mark. A scar. It ran from the bottom of her palm down and into the sleeve of her dress.
“How did you get that?” I gestured at the mark and Lucy followed my gaze, coming to rest on her wrist and snapping back up, her attention all for the detail of the dress as she lowered it back down and the sleeve fell back over her lower arm again.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the dress, “Knife. Happened a long time ago.” Each word coming out clipped and pain-filled.
I hurried up to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look at me despite her efforts, “I have spoken out of place, I didn’t wish to cause you pain. Let’s put the dress on and forget about it.” I smiled and she looked back at me, her eyes looking huge as she stared up, but finally her lips began twitching into what I presume as a smile and she nodded, paying attention to the dress again and loosening the lace.
She gestured me over and guided me into the dress, working the lacing up slowly as the silence filled the room like water filling a boat. Her hands gently moved the dress into different places and tied them to my figure; her touch feather light and delicate, as if the dress were made out of china and one touch could turn it into dust. Every so often I looked over and saw her gaze on the task, such dedication and commitment in the look. It got me thinking how good a student she would be in training. She would always get back up, her delicate hands would need toughening but it wouldn’t take long before she could handle a sword and protect herself, she looked so fragile to be in such a dangerous world.
“Nigel.” Lucy whispered. The silence cracking like a gunshot and interrupting my thoughts.
I turned and looked at her, “Pardon?”
“Nigel. That was the name of the man who did it.” Her voice faltered slightly but she looked determined to finish. I gripped her petite hands and cupped them with my own, “You don’t have to tell me this. If it’s too painf-“
“No. You have a right to know.” She smiled and her eyes shimmered. It wasn’t until she slowly began turning her head into the sunlight that I realized they were unshed tears. She gazed out the window, the sunlight consuming her and making the scene look beautiful, if it weren’t for the pain that coursed through her face.
“It seems so long ago, yet the memory is as fresh as it was the night is happened. I suppose you have heard the stories of how Ray and Lucian came to their bloodline, mine is a little different.” She turned in the light and faced me, half her body consumed in the blaze while the rest of her faded into the shadows of the room.
“My mother died while giving birth to me and father raised me within the confinements of our estate. He kept me away from harms way and hired nannies and tutors to educate me in what I needed to know to become a lady.” She moved away from the window and the darkness crept over the rest of her, her face blank as she kept her gaze on me, observing my reaction.
“I thought he was trying to protect me seeing as I was all he had left of mama but, his intentions were to keep me away from killing. He knew what I was and what my mother was, but his hatred of the immortality made him think the gift was from the devil himself, determined not to let me complete the transformation. I obviously didn’t know what I was and presumed him to be overprotective, but as I grew older I wanted to see beyond the estate walls, to meet new people. So one day I did, snuck out after supper and found a village nearby. I was so excited that I ran to the center and searched, until I finally came upon a bonfire party, people playing music and dancing without a care in the world. It wasn’t until I told them my name that they realized who I was, they pitied me for being stuck in one place my entire life so they let me join in.” Something flashed across her eyes and her lips curved into a brief smile, “Almira, you should have seen it. Dancing for hours, I didn’t want it to end.” She walked over to a stool by the bed and gently sat down, her dress flowing down onto the floor. Her expression beginning to grow serious as her eyes saw the rest of the memory, one I feared was not pleasant. Before I could speak she held up a hand in protest, determined to finish what she had already started.
“I had danced for so long that I ended up falling asleep in a hay stack, waking up the next morning to find father looming over me with the look of betrayal in his eyes. I never forget the fear and shame I felt in disobeying him, but a part of me never regretted it. He sent me home and beat me with his belt, the metal of the buckle leaving bruises all over my body, his rage making each swing harder and harder. I was too young to realize that the death of my mother was still causing him pain, getting worse after my behavior. Within two months his madness had gotten worse, I could hear him scream for mama in his sleep, hear him mumbling about the devil being in me. It wasn’t until one of the servants stole papa’s pocket watch that it turned to the worst. He accused me, telling me I stole it, then telling me how mother’s blood was on my hands. He pulled out a dagger and pinned my wrist to a table, I thought he was going to kill me. Instead he bled me out, slashing at my wrist until I was losing too much blood, he realized his mistake and fled, leaving me to die alone.” I couldn’t bare it anymore, I stood up, I couldn’t hear anymore of their pains.
I started to walk over, “Lucy, please, you don’t have to cont-“ I paused what I was saying as the door handle shook and turned, slowly opening before Michael’s head popped around the door.
“Dinner is ready when you two are…” his gaze moved to Lucy as she stood from the stool, smoothing her skirts and giving Michael the barest of smiles. He turned and shot me a questioning look, deciding I did not want to continue this conversation; I shrugged and looked over to Lucy again.
She smiled wider, “We’ll be down in a moment.” Her face returned to itself and Michael gave a brief nod before disappearing behind the door and shutting it after him.
“We’d better go, sorry to dampen the evening.” Lucy picked up a few pins from the basket and put them back in a small pot, her face hiding the emotions she was feeling frightfully well.
“Don’t be, you’ve turned out well and that’s what counts.” I reassured her and she kept smiling, picking up the basket and gesturing for me to follow her as she opened the door and walked through. I lifted the skirts slightly and followed, trying to remember the way despite Lucy being with me. The corridors were still dimly lit by candle-light, making me wonder who’s job it was to light them, this was a big house, there must have been a hundred to light every night. The paintings on the wall varied in size, some of landscapes across the country, of women in a lover’s embrace. It wasn’t until we reached the stairs that the paintings became larger, some as tall as me. Their captors all-staring out across the room, observing something that would be in their gaze for years to come, the candle-light flickering over their expressions making them seem to change. Lucy kept her gaze ahead, only turning back briefly to see if I was still there, gently smiling before turning back to her pursuit. As we walked into a different corridor, It brought me back the whisper of memories, it’s turns and long paths reminding me of the maze and how I’d felt hopeless, like a rat escaping a killer that was merely perched over-head, observing my pitiful efforts. Shaking my head from the thoughts I began to slowly look to the floor, concentrating on my footsteps. The carpet was a vivid red, much like the dress I had worn, like the blood I had spilled. My vision started to blur as it all hit me at once, my efforts turning to biting my lip, keeping back the tears that would make me look weak, and I would not look weak.
I hadn’t realized Lucy had stopped walking until I bumped into her, squealing in response and jumping back, danger coursing through my bones and preparing for what had caused the stop. A door.
Lucy raised an eyebrow, “You okay?” she kept her gaze fixed on me until I finally nodded, pushing the tears back and composing myself. With one final look she turned to the door, setting the basket down beside it and walking through, then I was alone in the hallway, the memories seeping into my mind like a hawk in pursuit of it’s mouse. I shook my head viciously and slowly paced after her, giving me enough time to banish the thoughts away for another time, making my past hidden from the world.