Danville Horror: A Pat Wyatt Novel (The Pat Wyatt Series Book 3) (14 page)

“She was cryin’ so Mariah hit ‘er until she stopped. Then…” he paused, and I could have sworn he took a breath, “then, she smiled down at ‘em, after ‘e begged ‘er ta let the duchess go, and all she did was just laugh telling ‘em dat she would make ‘em rue the day ‘e ever strayed. So she took the chair from behind his desk, broke the leg off, spread the woman’s legs wider, and—”

“Stop,” I cried, tears pouring down my face. “Oh God, please stop.” Mortimer took me in his arms and let me cry for a minute. That poor woman and, I hated to admit it to myself, poor Samuel.

“There’s only a little left, Patricia,” he said as he pushed me back, wiping my tears away with the sleeve of his shirt. “Should I go on?” I nodded, and he finished the story in a gentle voice. “After dat horror, Mariah commanded ‘em ta make ‘er inta a vampire or she would torture the poor gerl even more. ‘Course, ‘e did it ta save ‘er, but when ‘e turned ‘er somethin’ went wrong. She woke up without ‘er right mind. He still luv’ed ‘er though, so ‘e kept ‘er safe and away from a lotta people.

“He said she was like a child. Only lookin’ fur play t’ings. She’d killed at least ten people ‘er first night and Mariah reveled in it. So ‘e tried his best ta keep ‘er out of crowds, except one night she got out and killed hundreds all by ‘erself. Kathryn found out and ordered Mariah ta ‘ave ‘er put down. And of course, instead of doin’ it ‘erself, she had Samuel do it. He ‘ad ta kill the one t’ing dat he luv’ed in this world more than ‘emself.

“Samuel protested, but Mariah just laughed and walked away from him. Thus, ‘e took his little duchess out inta a field, and they sat star gazin’. She looked at ‘em like ‘e was the only man in the world fur ‘er, and ‘e said dat for the rest of his existence, ‘e would
never
forget dat look. Dat look of utter trust. He stroked ‘er hair, kissed ‘er forehead, told ‘er ‘e luv’ed ‘er more than the moon and stars, and snapped ‘er head off her neck. Then he left ‘er remains in the field ta be burned away by the sun.

“Dat was the day Samuel Satané lost his humanity, and ‘e’s never regained it.”

When he ended, I was silently crying for everything that Samuel had lost and everything that he used to be. I hated myself for shedding a tear, knowing what he had done to me, but I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t fair to him or to her. “Poor Samuel.”
Did those words just come out of my mouth?
Yes, yes they did.
Mortimer looked at me and said nothing. “I mean it, poor Samuel. No one should have to go through that. Not even him. I am physically repulsed the man, but to have to go through all that…” my voice trailed away as I shook my head. “It’s unthinkable.”

Mortimer nodded. “He’s still a feckin’ arsehole. But I do agree with ye.”

There was one thing that I was wondering throughout the entire story, and I figured it was a good time to ask. “What was the duchess’s name?”

He shook his head. “Ye promised no question.”

“I already broke that promise,” I reminded him. “What was her name?” He shook his head again. “Mortimer,” I said sternly, “what was her name?”

“Her name…” he paused looking me dead in the eyes, “her name was Patricia.”

My eyes widened in shock and horror. I could feel my lower lip begin to quiver, and I began to shake my head in disbelief. I had reminded Samuel of her and that was why he pursued me. That was why he had wanted me to be his vampire bride, because he was afraid of what Mariah would have done if she had gotten her slimy little hands on me. It didn’t explain why he was hell- bent on killing and hurting me, but it explained the rest. The manic behavior and his total mind fuck of a personality.

I couldn’t stand it any longer, I just couldn’t. Feeling myself rocking back and forth, I grabbed a throw pillow, put it over my face, and screamed.

chapter

FOURTEEN

I paced, opening and closing my mouth a few times. Then I finally turned to face Mortimer, placing my good hand on my hip. “What the hell am I supposed to say to all this? How am I supposed to react?” I screeched.

Mortimer shrugged. “I t’ink the way yer reactin’ is appropriate.”

I had screamed, threw a pillow and then started pacing with incoherent muttering. I was pissed off, confused, hurt, and upset. Samuel should have explained all this to me when we were married. Not that it would have changed the outcome, but his behavior sure would have made a hell of a lot more sense, especially when Mariah showed up. He could have said something, anything, but he didn’t, which was one of the reasons I couldn’t stand him. He was never straightforward and always kept me in the dark. It was in that moment that I realized that I truly hated Samuel. I didn’t just dislike him, I hated him. My mother had always taught me that you could never hate a person, but Samuel wasn’t a person, he was a monster who had raped me, lied to me, and nearly tried to rip my hand off. So I finally gave myself permission to fucking hate him, and I felt better for it.

I looked down at Mortimer on the couch. He had remained calm throughout the entire thing, and I just kept wondering how he turned out so goddamned normal compared with the mind screw Samuel had become. But he was right, I was reacting fairly appropriately, which scared the hell out of me. Normally, I would have taken in all in stride, but lately it was getting harder and harder to keep myself from getting unglued. So I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. It didn’t work. I raised my head and screamed to the Universe, “Why did he do it? Why me? Why did he take me down in that dungeon when he had all this happen before? Why?”

“Patricia,” Mortimer said quietly, standing up to wrap his arms around me. I stood leaning my head against his chest for a minute. Then I pushed him away, and he let me. “It’s all right, ye know,” he continued, trying to calm me as he rubbed my arms. “Ye can be angry. ‘E’s an arsehole, and nobody knows why ‘e did what ‘e did. ‘E is outta his mind. Maybe ‘e t’aught in some twisted way dat ‘e was savin’ ye from Mariah. I don’t know. But what I do know is ‘e is a crazy bastard and yer better off without ‘em.”

“I know that,” I breathed. “But why me? I just can’t wrap my head around why he’d choose me.”

“Dat one is a little simpler,” he replied. “‘E wanted ta ‘ave a second chance, and ‘e fucked it up. Again. And besides,” he said with a bit of a smile, “yer beautiful. No one can resist a beauty like yers.”

I shook my head. He was getting me off topic, and I let him. “Stop it. I am not beautiful. Attractive. Maybe. But not beautiful.”

“Ye are,” he protested. “Yer very beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be beautiful when pigs fly.”

He laughed a little and then stopped to stare out the window. “Oh dear Lord,” he shouted, running over to the window seat, looking out, “did ye see dat?”

“See what?” I asked, running over to him, a little scared at what I might find outside.

“A boar,” he whispered, pointing to the sky, “‘e just sprouted angel wings and flew off.”

I hit him in the shoulder, and he laughed. “That’s not funny,” I huffed.

He shrugged, sitting down. “It’s a wee bit funny.”

“And you’re a wee bit crazy,” I mocked, sitting down beside him. We were silent for a moment, and then I sighed. “It feels like the whole world has gone crazy. You know, more than usual. Everything is so overwhelming and I feel like I might break into pieces if one more thing goes ape shit. And I know it will. It always seems to.”

Mortimer placed his hand on my shoulder. “Not everythin’ falls on yer shoulders, Pat. Ye are only responsible fur yerself. No one else. And I t’ink, considerin’ the circumstance, dat yer copin’ as best as ye can.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I sighed again. “I’m doing my best. But I still can’t wrap my head around the whole Samuel thing. I mean, did he think he was saving me, or did he think he was going to get a second chance to kill her all over again?”

“I was surprised dat ‘e had the nerve ta go after ye in the first place,” Mortimer said quietly. I think he was trying to say it to himself, but he said it aloud instead.

I looked at him so fast my neck cracked. “What does that mean?”

He shook his head, dropping his hand from my arm. “Nothin’.”

“You’re lying to me again. What did you mean by that, Mortimer? And tell me the truth.”

His shoulders slumped as he looked me dead in the eyes. “When yer mother left fur America, I wanted ta protect ‘er by any means necessary. She was me best friend. So I asked Kathryn if she could be put ‘er under protective custody.”

He didn’t even have to finish, I knew where he was going with this. “Jesus Christ,” I huffed. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“What do ye t’ink it means?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He knew exactly what I thought. “That when she married Pops, he was protected, when Jessica was born, she became protected, and finally—” I pointed to myself.

He nodded. “Aye.”

I closed my eyes to the headache that was forming behind my right eye. “So what you’re saying is that I’m sort of like a protected species?”

“Aye,” he replied again, looking down at his hands, which were in his lap.

“That’s why Kathryn came to my rescue, isn’t it?” I asked, and he nodded. I shook my head, realizing that it all made sense.

“When Charlie called ta tell me dat ye were in trouble, I freaked out and told Kathryn ‘bout it. She was very immediate in ‘er response.”

I let that sink in for a minute. All this time I had been protected by vampires, and I never knew. One thing still bothered me though. “If I’m protected, why in the world did Samuel marry me in the first place?”

“It’s a rule,” he answered, and I could feel my brow furrow. He obviously saw that I was confused, so he explained further. “It was yer freewill. When ye said yes ta Samuel, ye chose it yerself.”

I sighed. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“Are ye sayin’ dat ‘e forced his way inta yer mind?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Some days I feel as though I said it out of pity and other days, I feel like he must have blurred my judgment. But that’s just me trying to fool myself. I said yes, and it was my own doing. That’s what I get for being spontaneous.”

“Don’t blame yerself,” he comforted.

“Oh, I don’t,” I clarified. “I blame Samuel for everything that happened to me. And if I could, I would blame him for everything that didn’t happen to me too.”

He laughed. “Dat a gerl. I blame ‘em fur most of me troubles too. It just seems right.”

I nodded. “It sure does.”

“When I t’ink about what ‘e did ta ye before she got there, it makes me blood boil. If it weren’t fur Charlie callin’ when ‘e did…” Mortimer’s voice trailed away. “I am so grateful fur dat little man.”

The way he spoke about Charlie was like he was still alive and then I wondered if he knew. “You know Charlie is dead, right?”

His eyes widened. The answer was clear, he didn’t. “No. What ‘appened?”

“Samuel murdered him,” I told him, and he frowned.

“Poor, Charlie. ‘E was a nice fella. When ‘e stopped callin’ every month ta tell me what Samuel was doin’ I just t’aught dat Samuel had revoked his phone privileges again. But I didn’t t’ink dat ‘e was dead. Poor, Charlie.”

“Poor, Charlie,” I agreed.

He sniffed, and I watched him carefully as a tear slid down his face. But it wasn’t clear like a normal tear, it was dark red and it streaked his face. When I put my hand out to touch it, he wiped it away before I could. I had never seen a vampire cry, and I tried to figure out what I had just witnessed. “Was that blood?” I decided to ask.

He nodded. “Yeah. We’re not meant ta cry or anythin’ like dat, but when we do, it’s usually blood.”

“You’re a strange creature.”

He smiled just a little. “Yer just figurin’ out dat us vampires are strange?”

“That’s not what I said. I said
you
”—I pointed to him—“are a strange creature. You feel so deeply about everything, don’t you? While Samuel feels nothing. I hope you won’t mind, and I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but can I do something?”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“May I kiss you?” I asked, and his eyes widened. “This is strictly cheek business.”

He laughed, nodding. “I’d like dat.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Dat was luvly. Thank ye.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Why do you talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like ye just got off de boat,” I mimicked.

“Not bad,” he complimented. “And old habits die hard. After all, I was a humble farm boy.”

“How old were you when you died? I mean, turned?” I asked, leaning back against the window.

“Twenty-one,” he answered with his usual smile.

“So I’m older than you.”

He chuckled. “Technically, I’m still older. I mean, I’m from the nineteenth century, darlin’. I’m a
lot
older than ye are.”

I waved his logic off. “Semantics.”

He shook his head again. Then we heard the cars pull up. “Well, I better get outta ‘ere before they come in.”

“What about Samuel in my dreams?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll climb up and inta yer room through the winda.”

I nodded as he stood. “Okay.” Then I decided to ask him. “Mortimer?”

“Yes.”

“Does Kathryn ever send you visions?” The visual of Mike having his neck sliced by the queen of all vampires made me shiver again.

“Has she been doin’ dat ta ye?” he asked, and I nodded. “I hate when she does dat, but I wouldn’t put too much stock inta it. As she says, the future is what ye make of it. Although, I will say dis, she has been actin’ a wee bit strange lately.”

“How do you mean?” I asked as I got up.

“She’s worried about ‘er looks,” he explained. “But I guess dat’s what ‘appens after five-thousand some odd years on this earth. Ye get self-conscious.”

I cocked a brow at him. “Five-thousand? She told me she was only four-thousand and something.”

He laughed. “She does dat. Ever millennia she knocks off a thousand years or so.”

“She doesn’t need to. She only looks about twenty-five.”

“Considerin’ she was sixteen when she was sired, I’d say dat’s not too bad.”

I could feel my eyes widen. “Sixteen?”

He nodded. “Yeah, vampires age, but only very, very, very slowly. So I’d say twenty-five is pretty good in her case.”

“Vampires age?” I repeated slowly because I was completely dumfounded by the statement.

He nodded. “But it’s not like we get old. Unless we get staked, we’ll still be here ‘til the end.”

My brow furrowed. “The end?”

“When the earth is swallowed by the black hole that will be the sun,” he clarified.

I closed my eyes and felt my heart skip a beat. “I could have gone my whole life without that image in my head.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said, pulling me into a hug again. “Ye’ll be long gone when dat occurs.”

“Another thing I don’t need to be thinking about. I just want to get through this wedding in one piece if that’s even possible.”

“I’ll make sure ye do,” he promised, kissing me on the forehead.

“Thanks,” I said, and the front door slammed open.

A mob of laughing people walked into the house and we pulled apart, but before Mortimer left the living room, he whispered in my ear, “‘Bout those claw marks on yer stomach, they didn’t seem like predatory marks. They seemed like somethin’ else. After all, werewolves, from what I understand, they like ta rip their pry open wit their teeth, not their claws.” He leaned back, raised an eyebrow at me, and winked. Then he told everyone farewell and walked out the door.

I blinked and placed a smile on my face as everyone walked into the living room, taking off their coats so my pops could put them in the closet.

Tina was the first to come in, and she smiled at me. “Look who’s up.”

“Hey, Patty Melt,” Bobby said as he helped Pops with the hangers.

I waved at him. “Hi, Bobby.”

“Hi, Pat,” Mad said as she limped over to me, giving me an awkward crutch hug. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m better. How about you?”

“Can’t wait until I get out of this stupid freaking cast,” she huffed.

I raised my broken wrist. “I hear that.”

Before anyone else could ask if I was okay, all right, or whatever else, I gave Tina the “I need to talk to you” look, and she nodded toward the stairs. I blinked a silent ‘yes,’ and we walked across the hall. But as we started up, Bobby stopped us. “So,” he said with a grin, “I saw that Mortimer guy come out of here. You hookin’ up with him?” he asked me.

“No,” I huffed. Just the suggestion of it made me angry.

He held up his hands. “Touchy. I guess that means he’s a secret lover.”

“Robert,” my best friend said as she grabbed my good hand, “eat shit and die.”

Before Tina dragged me up the stairs, I saw Sandy punch him in the arm, and I smiled a little. When we made it to the top, we walked into my room, and she switched on the overhead light. I hated that light; it was so blinding, but it was the only one in the room. Pops didn’t like floor lamps. According to him, they soaked up too much electricity.

When Tina sat on my bed, she folded her arms and looked up at me. “What’s the matter?”

“Where do I begin?” I asked her and myself at the same time and then I blurted out everything. I explained about Samuels past, about Duchess Patricia, and about what Mariah did to them both. Then I informed her that I was a protected species and that Samuel probably only married me because I was the forbidden fruit. That was an assumption I had made myself as I was telling her, and I was most likely right.

After a long silence on Tina’s end, I waved my hand in front of her face, and she blinked. “You okay?” I asked her, and she shook her head. “Well, say something,” I huffed, sitting next to her, “please.”

She opened her mouth, and a squeak came out, then she cleared her throat and finally said, “That explains a lot.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

She shrugged. “I can’t think of anythin’ else. I mean, Jesus Christ, Patty. What a fucked up story. This is just too much for one person to handle. No wonder you went a little crazy yesterday. It’s a marvel that you haven’t wound up in the nut house.”