Chapter Fifteen (Alexander)
It was difficult to explain what happened after we drove away from the Zephyra headquarters, listening to Christmas music.
All I knew was that I was exhausted. Physically and mentally. I just wanted to sleep for weeks.
But I had one last order of business to attend to. I kept quiet until we arrived at the Gothica Manor. Amber leapt at the first chance to assault me, sobbing and clinging to me. Mary-Kay even began to cry and hold onto me, making me smile uneasily. I didn't ask where my parents were. I didn't bother.
Vladimir had Kristophe and Claude sent to the east wing of the house along with Newell, who William carried over his shoulder. Part of me wanted to kill Newell, and it scared me as I watched him get carried away. Zander walked Slade there, their fingers laced together as Slade rested his head on his shoulder, making me smile comfortably. Storm and Mark just relaxed as they departed for their room.
Vladimir gave Amber and Mary-Kay permission to stay over for the night so they could make sure I was all right. I finally managed to get away from them, heading up one of the stair cases, looking around for a big fancy room that might belong to Vladimir. Once I reached a pair of large oak doors, I knew Vladimir was waiting inside, probably sitting at his desk or something.
I took a deep breath, then pushed the doors open, peering inside to see Vladimir sitting on his desk as he dabbed some kind of cream onto one of his wounds. I frowned for a moment until he looked up and smiled warmly.
"I knew you'd come sooner or later. Please, come inside. I'm just using a more human method of healing myself. I'm running low on fuel." He admitted with a shrug, then screwed the cap on the cream, dropping it on his desk. I came inside, shutting the doors behind me. Vladimir slid off his desk, but didn't bother to button up his shirt again, showing off a very ugly looking scar at the center of his chest, making my heart clench.
"Vladimir, will you tell me the truth now?" I asked at last. Vladimir looked up with a warm smile.
"What're you talking about? I always tell you the truth." He responded, making me frown. He studied my expression for a while before looking away as he picked up the little medical kit on his desk, putting the cream away inside before opening a drawer up.
"You want to know if I told your parents about feeding you fresh blood when you were younger." He announced, shutting the drawer and looking up. I stiffened for a second, bewildered that he knew what was on my mind before it dissipated. I suddenly wanted to smile.
He always seemed to know what was going on inside my head. He didn't need to ask questions or anything. He just... knew. He always knew.
"I guess it doesn't matter now," I admitted quietly, coming up to his desk, pausing to look at the pictures of Storm sitting in silver and black frames, "Because from now on, I only drink blood from willing donors. And I want you to know that." I picked up a picture of Storm as a teenager, studying the way Storm had changed over time. He'd been boyish when he was little. Now he was definitely a man, just like his father. I set the frame down and looked up to see Vladimir gazing at me.
"Vladimir." I stated. He blinked a couple times, then nodded slowly.
"Of course. I respect your decision. You're old enough to dictate your own life." He agreed, coming around to the other side of the desk so he was closer.
My heart began to pound so loudly, I could practically hear it in my ears. I felt like it was about to burst out of my chest as I looked up to meet Vladimir's eyes.
"That's not... exactly what I wanted to ask you, though." I admitted softly. Vladimir's eyes glowed as he stared at me, waiting patiently for me to ask. I hesitated, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"You... said you loved me. But what's the real reason you won't date me?" I asked carefully, locking eyes with him the best I could. Without realizing it, I had taken a step closer to him. Vladimir's blue eyes seemed hooded, the moonlight from outside making his skin look like porcelain as I noticed how close our faces were getting. I could feel his hot breath against my lips, our eyes locked so intensely that neither of us blinked.
"Because I'm scared." Vladimir murmured against my lips before kissing me. My eyes flickered, but my chest swelled. My blood rushed through my veins in a burst of excited adrenaline. I don't know why it made me happy to hear him say that. Maybe because I had found his weakness? Because I found the one thing Vladimir Van Gothica was scared of?
I'm not sure.
But either way, my body took on a mind of its own and I kissed Vladimir back, reaching up to run my fingers through his soft black hair. The stubble on his face prickled against my skin, but it felt so good. Our lips parted together, tongues plunging in to mingle. My breath came out short and panting as I pulled him closer to me, sucking in his oxygen and tongue. His hands crept along my arms before cupping my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks and brushing the hair near my temples.
I moaned and gasped as our tongues danced together wetly. I stepped closer so my body was pressed against Vladimir's. I felt the rippling muscles under his skin, the hardness between his legs, his heart pounding in his chest. It was beating as fast as mine was.
Vladimir's hands traveled down my arms to my hips before he moved them back to my ass where he cupped me. I moaned again into his mouth, savoring the feel of his fangs slipping beside my tongue, just barely touching it. I slid my tongue sideways, touching his fang. He moaned and pressed himself harder against me, pulling me so close, I felt like I might just melt into him.
Just when I thought I was going to lose control and cave into him, I heard knocking at the door and I winced. Vladimir sighed and stepped back, letting me go as I wiped my mouth, leaning against his desk in an awkard pose as the door opened and William came inside.
"I hope you have a good reason for interrupting." Vladimir deadpanned. William blinked, seemed to realize what had happened, his face pinkening for a moment as he bowed his head.
"My apologizes, Master. It's just that Newell has woken and he's... not very happy." He admitted, looking uncomfortable. I blinked and looked up at Vladimir, who frowned for a moment before nodding slowly.
"Understood. You may go. I'll be right there." He responded. William bowed his head again before departing. Vladimir sighed, running a hand through his hair before smirking at me.
"I'd been waiting for this for years and now I must wait a little bit longer. My apologizes." He said graciously. I smiled lightly, rubbing the back of my neck as I tried to hide my blush by turning away.
"No, it's fine... You have a job to do... But. May I see Newell? I want to know what you're going to do to him." I responded quietly, lowering my arm and looking back up at Vladimir, who studied me for a moment before nodding respectfully. He pushed off the desk and started out of his office. I followed obediently as we came out of his office and went down a few hallways, both of us silent.
I didn't really know what to say now. We'd pretty much explained our feelings for each other back there. It's not like we made anything official, though. I think that could wait for a little while.
We went somewhere near the infirmary wing of the house, but not quite at the center of it. More like, beneath it. We met William at a door at the end of a hallway. He gave us a weary stare before reluctantly opening the door, letting us inside.
Newell was kneeling on a stone floor, chains linked from the walls to the chains around him, keeping him prisoner. A leather blindfold covered his eyes, preventing his sight, but he was pissed and I could tell from the way he bared his fangs.
"Unforunately," Vladimir announced, making Newell jerk his head up, "For you, anyway, I won't allow you to heal. Your arms are still broken. You will waste the energy you have left on fighting the chains, not healing yourself. And when you run out of energy, you will begin to starve. Slowly and painfully."
Newell only hissed like a caged animal, trying to move forward, but the chains only jerked him down to the stone floor, scraping his knees. He snarled and I nearly expected him to foam at the mouth like someone with rabies, but he just kept writhing and gnashing his teeth.
"And when you reach your limit, you'll beg me to feed you, but I'll only give you just enough to drive you insane," Vladimir murmured, taking a step forward, "Because you don't deserve to die. You deserve punishment. Until you decide to apologize, anyway, then I may think about killing you."
"Fuck you! I have nothing to apologize about!" Newell snarled, spitting at Vladimir's feet, but Vladimir took a step back to avoid it, then smiled lightly. I felt a cold chill course down my spine as I stood closest to the door. I couldn't tell what was scarier in that moment.
Newell writhing and screaming like some kind of tortured animal or Vladimir, who just smiled as if none of this bothered him.
"You're going to torment him?" I asked at last, looking up at Vladimir, who glanced at me before looking away to Newell, who bared his teeth again like a caged tiger.
"This is the punishment for terrorists." He replied calmly. I frowned.
"The humans will find out sooner or later and accuse you of cruel and unusual punishment." I pointed out, then glanced back at Newell. I tried to find something inside me that felt sorry for him, but it was so hard.
He'd killed thousands of people. He was the one that led to Nicholas' death.
Another icy cold chill swept up my spine, my eyes flickering in realization as I looked at Vladimir, who was staring at Newell through hooded eyes.
Just like Vladimir.
Vladimir too had killed thousands of people and it was by his hand that Nicholas died. It made my stomach churn and my heart ache. How could I forgive Vladimir and not Newell? Why did it have to be like this? I turned away from Vladimir to look at Newell, who screamed out in frustration, jerking at the chains, only to hiss in pain.
"That's right," Newell said suddely, making me look at him as he smirked, his fangs still bared like a rabid animal, "We're the same. Vladimir and I are exactly the same. We've killed everyone around us. What the hell makes you so different, Alexander? What makes you think Vladimir won't kill you? Like he killed Elizabeth."
My eyes flickered and I looked at Vladimir, who kept his face placid.
"I won't feel bad for torturing someone who looks like a child," Vladimir drawled coldly, "Because the only thing childish about you is your clothing and your mind set, but not your soul. You're damaged goods. Broken. Destroyed. Defeated. Accept it gracefully." Newell gritted his teeth, then snarled at him again.
This time, Vladimir turned and approached me, reaching out to brush his fingertips by my cheek, making me shiver.
"Of course, I gave you the reason we can't be together. What's your reason?" He asked, but he already knew the answer. I took a small step back as Vladimir lowered his hand from my face, knocking on the door so William would let us out. We left the chamber without speaking, the only sound being Newell's screams muffled by the door closing behind us. We walked down the hallway and back up to the main floor.
I let Vladimir go back to his office alone, leaving me to stand alone in the large, dark hallway, listening to the ringing silence around me.
It was wrong. It was painful.
Hell, it was painfully wrong.
I was in love with the man who killed my first love.
No, not man... Vladimir was something else. He wasn't a man, but he wasn't quite a monster either. He had reasons behind the things he did, but he wouldn't share them and that was what set him apart from Newell, I realized with a hard blink to keep the tears at bay.
Newell wanted revenge. He wanted to make everyone pay for mocking him, for underestimating him. He wanted people to be like him, so there was no difference in the world. Newell's motives were dark and sinister, and yes. Maybe a bit childish.
But what about Vladimir? Nothing he did or said made sense...
No. I didn't have time to think about something selfish. This wasn't my love story. All I had to worry about now were my friends and how they were faring now that Newell was out of commission. I almost sighed in relief before I turned away from Vladimir's office and headed toward the infirmary area.
It was just a few twists and turns until I found the wide open room with several beds. I was surprised, however, to find that the only person in there was Kristophe. I stiffened for a moment, watching him sit on one of the beds, looking down at the floor. He'd been the only one who was kind to me and he held a sort of fire in him that kept him going.
But he suddenly looked empty and dead as he sat there, his eyes half-lidded and dark circles going around them. He looked weak and tired. His skin was a pale color, indicating that he was long overdue for a feeding. I glanced around, but no one else was there.
Not Slade or Zander, not even Claude.
I felt a little ache in the pit of my stomach as I forced myself to walk forward. I was just a few feet from Kristophe when he glanced up at me. I frowned.
"Where's Claude?" I asked quietly. Kristophe straightened a little, but the empty look on his face seemed trapped there as he turned his head to look out one of the windows. I followed his gaze with a frown to see snow beating the ground outside.
"He left." Kristophe answered at last. I blinked and looked at him, concerned.
"With his wounds?" I asked. Kristophe looked at me. I felt a little chill go through me. It was nearly impossible to believe Kristophe would work for someone like Newell. Something about him just didn't seem motivated. I watched as Kristophe looked away again. This time, he let his shoulders slump as if he was tired of trying to pretend he was okay.
"Yup." He responded briefly.
"But he's your brother. Where did he go?" I asked, confused.
"He hates me." Kristophe murmured. It was impossible to tell how he felt about this and the only smidge of emotion was the way his hands were clasped together tightly as if all his feelings were on the verge of collapsing. I frowned.
"How could he hate you? What--"
"He told me to kill myself. He won't associate with anyone who betrays the rebellion. He left through the bathroom window while I was gone. He's probably heading back to the headquarters to see what he can find in the mess." Kristophe explained, still emotionless.
I didn't know what to say now. I felt a little cold inside. I nibbled my lower lip, watching Kristophe stare out the window for the longest time. I only vaguely felt what was going on inside him now. What it felt like to have family abandon you, simply because they believed you weren't good enough for them. To do everything for you, then push you out of their life.
It was such a cold existence sometimes. I wondered why I wasn't reacting the same way Kristophe was, though. Kristophe had to be breaking inside. He was clenching his hands tighter and tighter together, as if he'd shatter at any moment. When I had left for college, my parents didn't give me hugs or kisses or tell me good luck. They just went to work before I woke up to pack.
I knew I disappointed them and I knew they hated me for not fullfilling my duties to them. I wasn't sorry, though. And neither was Kristophe.
He said he'd work for Vladimir if Vladimir promised to protect him and his brother. But Claude was gone now. He'd taken off and left Kristophe behind.
"Do you want some blood?" I asked after a while. Kristophe looked at me. I had a feeling his face wouldn't show any emotion around people now. Claude might as well have killed him from the way he looked.
"I'm fine. I just need sleep." He said at last, then rose to his feet and brushed past me. He left me standing in the room alone, watching him leave before I turned to look out the window. I came up between a couple beds and touched the glass. It felt icy under my fingertips. So cold, it burned. I lowered my hand and looked out to watch the snow swirl and dance violently around the pine trees, making them tremble and howl in the wind.
For some reason, it made me grimace.
Things were supposed to be happy now, right?
A happy ending.
Newell was captured.
Storm and Mark were safe. Slade and Zander were safe.
Our species was saved from yet another terrorist. And yet... Something about it felt so cold and dark. It made me shiver when I felt something cold brush my skin, making my hair flutter against my cheek. I turned to face the bathroom, making me frown.
I stepped away from the window and approached the bathroom carefully, feeling something in my gut clench. I stopped in the doorway, reaching out to push the door further open. I blinked and stared at the mess in the bathtub.
Blood was splattered up against the bathtub, making my eyes widen. My eyes trailed the length of the wall by the bathtub. Thick globs of blood oozed down white wall, dripping into the tub. The trail led to the small open bathroom window. I went to the bathtub, about to look out the window when I saw who was laying in the bathtub.
For a second, I thought it was Claude lying there, eyes closed and blood pulsing from the deep wound in his chest. The red of it all filled the tub darkly, not even rippling, however.
Wait.
This wasn't Claude.
This was Kristophe. Which means... My eyes widened and I whirled around, throwing the bathroom door out of my way as I ran out of the bathroom to catch up with the person I had been talking to before. I burst out of the infirmary room and glanced around quickly, my heart pounding in my ears.
Where did he go?! Where was he?!
I bolted down one of the hallways, listening carefully to everything going around me. All I heard, though, was my feet hitting the tiled floor until I heard a door slam a hallway behind me. I whipped around and swung around, seeing one of the doors to the back patio. I bolted for it and threw open the back door in time to see Claude climbing onto a sleek black snowmobile where another man was already seated comfortable with his helmet on.
My eyes widened as Claude narrowed his eyes at me, holding his helmet in his hands before he looked away, jamming it on and grabbing onto the person in front of him. I only had time to take a step out of the house before the snowmobile took off into the snowy darkness. I cursed and whipped back around, slamming the door shut behind me as I ran back to the infirmary.
I almost slammed into Slade as I came around the corner. He was breathing hard, his skin pale and dark circles under his eyes, bandages around his wounds. He wore a loose white yukata that was hanging off his shoulders. Blood was dripping from the corners of his mouth as he stumbled back from me, making me wince.
"Slade--"
"Oth," Slade tried, then coughed and cleared his throat, his voice raspy and muffled from the wound on his tongue, "Clauth. He dith sonthin thu Kristhoth! I thaw ith!" I got the vague idea of what he meant and grabbed his hand as we ducked into the infirmary. We arrived in the bathroom again and sure enough, Kristophe was still lying in the bathtub, blood oozing around him.
I ducked down, looking up at Slade, who was breathing hard.
"You need to get help! Go get Vladimir! Or Storm or somebody! He'll die if he doesn't get blood!" I ordered, making Slade nod quickly before whirling around, bolting out of the bathroom. I turned back to Kristophe, struggling to pull him out of the bathtub. He was bigger than me, so I lost my balance and stumbled back, falling against the wall across from the bathtub. I winced in pain, then stopped as I looked down at Kristophe, who lay in my arms. His blood was caked on my hands that were holding him across his bloody torso.
His head was tilted to the side, blood dripping from his mouth heavily.
My stomach twisted sickeningly as I lifted my hand, feeling little tremors course through it as I pushed up Kristophe's upper lip.
My suspicions were confirmed.
Kristophe's left fang was broken in half, blood oozing around it. I cringed and looked at the other one, relieved to find that it was still intact. I pulled my finger away as Kristophe's eyelids seemed to open slowly, as if his eyelids weighed a ton.
"Cah... Cla...de..." I grimaced and quickly wiggled out of my shirt, balling it up and holding to his wound before I brought my wrist to my mouth. If I didn't get blood to him soon, he'd die. He was running out of fuel, and fast. Claude had done something to him that no one of our kind should dare do.
He'd been trying to rip Kristophe's fangs out, and as a result, almost killed his brother. I managed to cut my wrist open, grimacing at the stinging pain before I brought my wrist to his mouth.
"Kristophe, you need to drink. Don't think about anything else, just drink." I ordered, touching my wrist to his lips, giving my arm a squeeze, causing blood to gush through the puncture wounds, seeping against his mouth. Kristophe's eyes slid around behind his eyelids, as if he couldn't comprehend what was happening. He reached up with a shaking hand, touching my fingertips.
"Kristophe, drink." I commanded, then pressed my wrist to his mouth. Kristophe grimaced and mumbled something against my wrist before I felt his single fang slid into my skin. I held my breath, watching him close his eyes, drinking deeply for a couple minutes before he slumped against me, unconscious. I grimaced and pulled my wrist away, looking up at the sound of a door opening and slamming shut.
Voices carried into the bathroom as I struggled to keep Kristophe in my arms. Storm came in first, wincing as William and two pureblood doctors came in behind him. William took Kristophe from me, lifting him into his arms. Kristophe looked like a limp rag doll compared to William's hulking frame. The doctors were barking orders as they quickly rushed Kristophe to one of the infirmary beds.
I watched them carry him off and get to work on healing him. Storm stood beside me in the bathroom, staring at me.
"Alexander... What happened?" He asked at last. I blinked, then looked up at him. He stared at me questioningly. I looked down at myself. Kristophe's blood caked my torso, dripping down my navel to my bloodied pants. My fingertips dripped thickly with blood before I grimaced, feeling a cold chill course up my spine.
"He... tried to... rip out his fangs. His own brother tried to..." I could barely speak. Storm flinched and just held his hand up for me to stop, but I suddenly felt like I couldn't.
"I don't get it," I managed, feeling the panic rise into my chest like a swelling balloon, "This wasn't supposed to happen. Nothing's happening like it's supposed to. Newell was supposed to die, not be tortured for eternity. I'm not supposed to love Vladimir! He killed Nicholas! I'm not supposed to be here! I'm supposed to be at college! This wasn't supposed to happen to Kristophe! Or Claude! None of this should be happening! The car ride...! It was supposed to be the end! Everything was supposed to go back to normal, but it's just getting worse and worse!"
I didn't mean to start crying. I suddenly felt like I was being crushed and suffocated. My chest felt so painfully tight. My vision was blurring and getting spotted with red. I was seeing red everywhere, even after Storm had put his arms around me and held me tightly.
"Alexander, stop!" Storm's voice was muffled by his arms going around me, the sound of my breathing coming out in sharp, short pants. I tried to catch my breath, but it was getting harder and harder. I suddenly felt like I was screaming.
This wasn't supposed to be happening.
I'm so confused.
What's happening?
Why isn't anything happily ever after?