Back to You (15 page)

“I’m sorry, Stella,” he says, his palms turned outward as if surrendering. “I really am sorry. But please don’t go. I can’t guarantee your safety down there. And I can’t deny how much the restrictions on the deal are cutting me up inside.”

His raised right hand reaches forward to stroke my cheek. I can feel him trembling, but not with rage. It is as if he were concentrating all his heartfelt emotions in that tender caress, leaving me for an instant with no doubts in my mind.

At this point, an enraged Donn flies down the stairs and disappears out of my limited human sight.

I stare intensely into Vuk’s eyes for an interminable moment, before starting to run down the staircase. Vuk grabs me with a trembling hand. “Please, Stella, I beg you.”

His green eyes are clouded with tears. I feel a knot in my throat.

“Vuk, I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You can stay here with me. And survive. Do it for Jeff and Scott. For me!”

I’m trembling with joy at the thought of him still being here, in flesh and blood, that I can still touch his marble skin and hear his sweet voice… But he doesn’t seem to understand what I have to do.

I turn my head to keep walking somberly down the stairs, but he stops me.

“I won’t let you go alone, defenseless.”

“I won’t let you get into trouble for breaking the pact. And I won’t be defenseless, I have Donn.”

He searches my eyes, but I avoid his.

“Vuk?” I call out, faintly. “I have to go.” Donn, now waiting at the bottom of the staircase, is staring at me resolutely. My head could explode from the tension I feel. Vuk glances at Donn, then back at me.

“This is not the solution.”

Donn narrows his icy eyes at him, as he stands motionless at the foot of the stairs.

“This is the best solution for Stella, so it’s the best solution all around.” He turns, as if to be on his way.

“I’ve made my decision. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

“Please, Stella,” he pleads in soothing tones. But worry overwhelms his face.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble and race down the stairs.

No reply from Vuk, he just stands there immobile, watching me as I follow the path laid out by Donn, now striding down the first floor corridor.

“I promise I’ll be careful,” I yell back as I hurry to catch up with Donn. “Donn, wait!” I add, as he almost disappears into the darkness of another hallway.

He slows down and turns to me with a smile, holding out a hand to me, continuing impatiently on his way to the library tower.

I anxiously take hold of the tips of his icy fingers, still illuminated by a thin veil of light, before they fade into nothing, like dust in the wind.

Confessions

I turn my
head towards the pale light streaming from the staircase that is now almost out of sight, when I hear a roar of rage and frustration behind me. Even my limited human senses can perceive Vuk’s torment.

The blood flows from my face and I glance down; I can only see part of my body now that we are immersed in the shadowy hallway. The other part is illuminated by the dappled light filtering through the huge windows.

Donn keeps steadfastly on his way along the marble corridor, with his arm around my hips. We approach the entrance to another passageway and turn the corner into a narrower one, now deserted. I realize that this part of the library is off limits to visitors.

My eyes search Donn’s face as I try to read answers to my questions, but his lips just smile at me; his eyes are giving nothing away.

I suddenly realize that we have reached the foot of a massive marble staircase. I hesitantly take the first step, and feel myself tripping over. I fall forward onto my knees and think I’m about to knock my head against the fifth or sixth step. But two strong hands break my fall.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

He holds back a laugh. “Baby, baby. Whatever am I to do with you?” But I need a moment to stop my heart from beating too fast.

He sweeps me up into his arms, holding the length of my body against him, as if I were a baby.

“Grab a hold of me,” he suggests, caressing my face with his freezing cold hand. “Heart still racing?” he asks, barely holding back his laughter.

He carries me up the stairs in silence; although surely he can hear the racing of my heart. I make an effort to stand on my own two feet when we get near to the top of the staircase, as Donn puts a protective arm around me.

At the end of the long corridor, we come to a standstill in front of a white, windowless wall. Donn lets go of me and opens a wooden door to our right.

It opens onto a small but airy room, its walls cladded with the same dark wood as the furniture. Even the light, filtering in from the window, seems to be the color of tree bark. The shining marble floor shows a classical rhomboid pattern, light contrasting with dark. Two large lightshades are hanging from the center of the room from the ceiling beams. A fresco covers the upper walls. Red dominates it. Perhaps this painting is the reason this room is known as the art room.

Donn skims the wall and stops halfway round the room. He pulls down the first small lamp hanging on the wall next to the majestic ancient marble fireplace, which has thirteen bas-relief decorations carved along the top. He pushes on one of them; I swear it is the fourth one. How strange; the fourth is the same day of the month I moved to Boston four years ago and it is also the date I saw Donn again at my party.

A creaking sound rings out as the lamp and the fireplace carving set in motion a mechanism on the wooden wall at the far end of the room. Within a moment, the large section of cladding inside an ornamental frame slides away. The opening is high and dark. The decorative border is, in truth, framing a secret door. I widen my eyes in amazement and gasp. I move to step through the dark gap, but Donn, in a graceful movement, takes me back into his cold arms and swirls me towards the fireplace. He leans over me and puts his mouth to my ear. “This is where we part ways. Follow the corridor round the corner on the left and take the first exit.”

I’m trembling, perhaps with fear. “Why can’t I come with you?

“The fireplace door is the meeting point with J., remember?” he says patiently.

I look around and exhale, “But I don’t’ see anyone.”

“But he can see you, and he can feel you,” replies Donn, stroking my cheek with one finger. “And… baby, I have to answer to someone too.” I can feel the smile spreading on his lips.

“Who are the second and third members of the Council?” I ask cautiously. “I guess Graham is number one and you’re number four.” I motion to the bas relief decoration he has just pushed inside the fireplace. “Is that right?”

“Yes. The second is Debra, She was the first to join forces with Graham. Aaron was the third. But then he left and Jack took his place. Graham mistakenly thought that he could fill the void that Aaron left. But Debra managed to make him see reason.”

“I’m just wondering why you’re not the third Council member. Didn’t Graham want you to take Aaron’s place?”

Donn looks at me, his perfect smile spreading across his face. Then he takes my hands in his and crosses them over my belly, before clutching me close to his chest.

“That’s not it at all,” he whispers, velvety smooth like molten chocolate. “I didn’t want the position.”

“Why not?”

His face darkens. Finally I’m the one to make
him
feel uncomfortable.

“Well, you see, I was already elected to be the fourth member of the Council,” he explains. “And I didn’t want to take Aaron’s place. It didn’t seem… right.”

I’m about to reply, but Donn presses his fingers to my lips to silence me.

“Now that’s enough questions. We have to dash.”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” apologizes Donn, nodding to the fireplace. “You don’t have much choice. You won’t see me now until you’re inside, but I promise you, you won’t be alone.”

Only when Donn removes the grate do I notice that there is a gaping hole inside the fireplace. I peer in; there seems to be a wire grate on the blackened base to allow the ash to filter through.

“Don’t fret,” Donn whispers. “J. will come get you.”

I look dubiously at the grate, and at the sound of my uneasy breathing a voice penetrates the darkness.

“I’m here, Stella.” That melodious, angelic voice, coming from too far down in the oblivion to comfort me. But I need to know that it really does belong to whom I think.

It must be
his
voice. I try with all my might not to think of his name, surprised that I haven’t fallen to my knees in shock, in joy, in pain at having heard it, tortured by the sense of loss. But there is no pain, none at all. I was afraid that I might have forgotten the sound of his voice so I feel elated that the irrational part of my brain has preserved it.

I hardly ever allow myself to think of him. Between pain and that foggy feeling, the haziness always wins out. Of course the price to pay is never-ending fog. But I’m human, and human instincts prevail, and the price to pay is having him creep into my mind on occasion.

Right now I expect that abyss to open up, the ache to return. I feel alert after so many weeks of that dull feeling, but it seems to be holding back. For now. But as soon as I hear his voice, clarity seems to wash over me, as if I had emerged from a deep well of murky water. My senses seem to be in overdrive. I can see and hear well, I’m now aware of the biting, cold air stinging my cheeks, and the smell of the fireplace.

I stick my legs into the hole, Donn holding my wrists to help me in. When he lets go, I feel myself slipping into the void. A cry escapes my lips. I try to keep them glued together to avoid screaming. Air rushes past me for a second, whipping my cheeks. I keep my eyes tightly closed, despite the pitch black. There is silence, nothing, but not for long. A pair of strong arms sweep me on my feet.

I open my eyes. The light seeping down from the entrance hole reflects pallidly on the wet stone. My skin burns. I’m sure I must have grazed myself during the descent.

Behind J.’s burly shoulders is an enormous circular grate, protected with rusty iron railings. It looks like an old vent.

The light disappears for an instant, and then Donn’s outline appears on the wet floor. My eyes seek him out, but the sudden darkness obscures my vision as the rasping sound of the metallic grate being put back into place above our heads echoes through the chamber.

My heart races wildly and I’d give anything to stop it, knowing full well that the blood racing through my veins makes it hard for my companions to be near me. I bet J. can feel it. He is motionless.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs.

His breath is wheezing, he slowly comes toward me and I feel a breeze of freezing cold air envelop me. His hand touches my cheek. I’m paralyzed.

My lungs fill with the sweet perfume of his skin and his irregular breathing sounds like an alarm bell, an acute signal for danger that should fill me with terror. But I feel nothing, not even a stab of fear. Other sensations override it.

“This is unbelievable. Donn kept his word.” His delicious voice is filled with wonder.

He slowly slides his hand along my cheekbone. A shiver runs through me as I feel it slip down to my throat. But it doesn’t stop there. It continues its path along my shoulder.

“I want you to feel the intensity, the confusion I feel.”

I think I can hear his teeth grinding from the effort of his confession.

My rational side tells me I should be terrified, but a wave of compassion for his suffering washes over me, even as he admits that there is one part of me he desires above all others.

Donn’s words spring back to my mind.

“In the first few months after transformation, new-born vampires are unpredictable, wild, basically uncontrollable,”
he once explained.
“This is when they are at their most brutal, driven mad by thirst. Plus, in their first year of life, they are unbelievably strong.”

This causes another wave, this time of fear. My stomach churns, my heart begins its sprint again. I try to whisper his name, but the words don’t come out.

I feel him bury his face in my hair with a sharp intake of breath, as if he is about to reveal a deep, dark secret. But he breathes in my scent. A hand delicately runs down my collarbone, coming to a rest on my chest. He wants to feel my heartbeat.

“Extraordinary,” he murmurs, his voice honey-smooth, full of amazement. “I had almost lost hope.” He nuzzles into my hair. “My heart hasn’t beaten in over a year. But now I feel it pulsating, where before there was nothing. You have the same …
scent
.”

“The same scent?” I repeat, finally managing to get a word out.

He is as still as a marble statue, then I feel a smile being carved onto his face.

“It’s the worst kind of temptation, but I can resist.” His voice is exquisite, delicate. He awaits a response, he wants to know that I’m not saddened by his words. Despite not being able to see the tip of my nose, I can feel his sapphire eyes burrowing into me.

I don’t know how long we stand motionless in this position; whole minutes it seems. Eventually my heartbeat returns to normal. I know he could have lost control at any moment and that my life could end there, in the underground passages of the library so fast that I wouldn’t even realize my end was nigh. But I feel no fear. Mere contact with him wipes those thoughts clean away.

“Is it very hard?” I ask cautiously, trying to lighten the heavy mood.

“Not as bad as I expected.” He seems gratified and keeps holding me tight.

But I barely hear his words, I am caressing that face that I so wanted to touch for over a year.

“J. …” Then slowly, with great restraint, I run my fingers along the contours of his face to see if my long-held suspicions were correct, that J. really is Jason.

“Stella, if you want you can call me … Jason.”

I finally hear those longed-for words and my heart begins to pump hot blood through my veins. The abyss closes, leaving no trace of its presence. I’m overwhelmed with joy, I feel complete, and the pain has vanished. As I stare into the darkness, I feel his eyes on me. I meditate on the meaning of his words, the sudden shift in the conversation making my head spin. We went from confirming Donn’s reliability, to my scent, to an official declaration.

“So J.,” I try to keep my voice steady and almost lose balance in the process.

“Yes, it’s always been me.” His cold hands caressing my face bring me round, but hot tears spring from my eyes.

“Shh, no, Stella,” he whispers in my ear holding me tight. “I’m back. You can’t see me yet, but you can feel me.” His velvet thumb traces the outline of my lips. “You know what I feel for you. The fact that I’m here means that I would rather die that give you up.”

A shiver runs down my spine, then through my whole body. I choke back a cry of terror, I feel the blood rushing from my face. My clammy hands tremble. But he just brushes his cold, perfect lips over my cheek, the sweet perfume of his breath instantly soothing the dread.

I move even more sluggishly, delicately stroking his cheek, his eyebrows, the soft hollow around his eyes, before arriving at his flawlessly smooth lips. They open at my touch and I feel his icy breath on the tips of my fingers. I move my hand away, I just want to get closer to him, but am afraid to go too far. I want to feel the changes, but he moves back a few inches.

“I’m sorry, J…Jason.” In a broken voice I stammer his name for the first time.

“Don’t worry. I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I wanted to tell you earlier, but that would have meant a direct hostility, and I wasn’t ready yet.”

It is probably a sense of guilt that drives him to ask forgiveness, despite everything––convinced that he had caused my depression this past year. And he’s right. But just the feel of him now wipes all memory of it away.