Dark Requiem (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 3) (9 page)

Avery merely looked down
at the table and sighed, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but
at the mansion.

Sitting to dinner with the
two of them, it felt as though I had come home. My unease hadn’t
completely left me, but I allowed joy to stealthily move in on it
so it was almost forgotten. The loneliness I’d felt my entire life
was gone. Even the turmoil of the last few months since my aunt’s
death was pushed so far back that I felt a kind of peace I thought
I would never feel. A large black chandelier hung above the black
glass dining table which could seat twelve, but the room was lit
only in candle light, the black panelling on the walls and the
beige carpet with splashes of blacks and pinks, struggling to enter
its champagne-coloured circle. I felt a surge of warmth whenever I
glanced at Mallory’s face, which was always ready to spread into a
gentle smile whenever she looked at me. I had only expected to find
Avery when I came to the mansion. Mallory was a wonderful surprise
and it felt as if my soul had been waiting to meet her for a long
time.

“
You look lovely tonight,
Dallas,” Mallory said halfway through dinner.

“
Thank you, Mallory.” I
beamed at her.

I had chosen to wear an
incredibly short skirt with a bustier style white top that left
plenty of cleavage on display.

Mallory turned to Avery, a
smile tugging at her lips. “Clearly Uncle Avery agrees as he can’t
seem to keep his eyes off you.”

He started at her words,
but remained staring at his plate. “I would imagine that Dallas
must be quite cold.”

“
Not at all,” I
said.

It was as if he hadn’t
heard me and he said very little after that. From the tight
expression on his face, the dinner seemed to be a lesson in
endurance, one which was proving particularly difficult for him to
master. He appeared to be making a concerted effort to not stare at
me, but like the pull exerted by a magnet, his gaze was frequently
drawn to me. I would glance at him to find him watching me lit in
the gentle glow of the candlelight, exquisite anguish alight in his
eyes. He immediately looked away, and it seemed he had to take a
few moments to contain his emotions.

After Mallory brought the
dessert to the table, a chocolate cake with the words
“Welcome, Dallas”
written across it, I dared turn to Avery.

“
It’s such a shame I can’t
read your thoughts. I would love to know what you’re thinking about
that has you so quiet over there.”

“
Why
do
you hide your thoughts from
Dallas?” Mallory asked him, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Are
you afraid you might reveal more than you like about your feelings
for her?”

“
No,” Avery answered.
“There is nothing I need to hide concerning my feelings for Dallas.
If she wishes to hear my thoughts, then so be it.”

He returned to glower at
the slice of cake on his plate before stabbing at it with his fork,
but not without directing a dark glance at Mallory.

“
Hmm, this is good,
Mallory,” I said, referring to the cake. “I think the best thing
about being a vampire is being able to eat whatever I want and not
gain—”

For heaven’s
sake!

I jumped at the sharp tone
of Avery’s thoughts and faced him.

He appeared to be focussed
completely on the cake before him, his lips pursed.
Does she ever say
anything
that makes
sense?

Mallory looked to me and
then Avery, her brow furrowed. I decided to ignore Avery and smiled
at Mallory, although the smile was weak.

“
I was thinking
that—”

How on earth am I going to
survive having such an imbecile around? If I had known the torment
I would have to suffer with this girl, I would have turned and run
the moment I came across Luna praying at that chapel!

I was staring openly at
Avery now, my mouth open in hurt. Mallory was staring at Avery too,
her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared, no doubt having worked
out why I was behaving that way.

For some reason the
thought of Avery running from Luna, leaving her at that plantation
and a life that was devoid of his love, filled me with intense
misery. Tears welled in my eyes. A sob escaped me and I rose,
running out of the candlelit dining room as tears streamed down my
face.

I moved into the void and
materialised outside the mansion in the field of flowers where I
could hear Mallory talking to Avery.

“
I don’t know what you
said to Dallas, but I want you to go and apologise, Uncle Avery.
You always raised me to be kind and compassionate. I have never
seen you be so unpleasant to anyone and, to be quite frank, it’s a
side of you I don’t like at all.”

“
She wanted to know what I
was thinking and now she does. Besides, it was just a little joke.
I didn’t realise she was so...sensitive.”

“
Now I know you don’t
really expect me to believe that.”

“
Fine. I’ll
apologise.”

Moments later I heard the
sound of heavy footsteps against the gravel. I turned to find Avery
standing behind me. Although his face was composed into an
expression of remorse, his eyes twinkled with amusement. He smiled
and my heart lurched in response.

“
I apologise, Dallas.
Clearly I didn’t mean for those random thoughts to upset
you.”

I could see he wasn’t in
the least bit sorry, but I felt my heart melt. It was the first
time he had smiled properly at me since I arrived at the
mansion.

“
Aww, it’s okay, Avery. I
know you didn’t mean it.”

His smile
widened.

I felt butterflies leap in
my stomach. He really was so beautiful.

“
Come here and give me a
hug,” I said.

“
Of course,
Dallas.”

I embraced him, letting
out a sigh as I lay my head against his hard powerful chest. He
pulled away moments later, amusement still in his eyes. Then he
froze, his gaze on my hand. The colour drained from his face and
his mouth tightened into a thin line. His eyes steadily grew wider
the longer he stared at my hand, that anguish I had seen at the
dining table casting unfathomable shadows in their depths. As if
unaware of what he was doing, he reached for my hand and held it as
if it were as fragile as butterfly wings.

“
Avery? Is something
the—?”

He dropped my hand as if
it had burned him.

“
Let’s get back inside and
finish dinner.”

He moved toward the
mansion door, vanishing mid-stride.

I looked down at the hand
he had been staring at.

Along the inside of my
right index finger was a tattoo I’d had done a few years ago. I had
woken up after a night of heavy drinking—and most probably drugs—to
find I had gotten a new tattoo sometime during the night. I did not
remember getting it or why I chose that particular tattoo. I
usually kept it covered with rings. It was of a single
word:

Shhhhh.

I stared at it for a few
moments, wondering why on earth Avery would react to it that way.
After a while, I entered the mansion, putting Avery’s strange
reaction out of my mind.

The following evening I
was startled out of sleep long after the sun had gone down. I
stared around the gloomy guest bedroom for a few moments, dread
coiled around me, its cold hand of steel twisting my heart. There
was something here with me. I could sense it.

I leapt out of bed and was
moving toward the bedroom door when darkness descended like a wall
and I knew I was in a completely different place once more. This
time I could see nothing, only feel the call for blood and the
shackles it had placed on me. Pressed against me was a warm, male
body that bucked and thrashed against mine. The sound of screams
crashed against my ears, but all I could focus on was my desire and
the feel of my mouth against his hot, salty neck, lost in the
savage gulps I took as I was dragged down a crimson tunnel to the
gift at its end.

It seemed as if a long
moment passed before I realised he was no longer struggling against
me, his body now large and cumbersome, the bliss—the crimson
tunnel—gone. The blood I could still taste was like stale water now
the life had been wrung from the body in my arms.

I let him fall to the
ground and stared in disgust at the dead white male with strawberry
blond hair. Although his eyes were shut now—his mouth hung open in
a half-cry—and I was spared from looking into his blue eyes, rage
instantly filled the void the absence of the crimson tunnel had
left behind. The shackles the bloodlust had placed on me tightened
painfully and I could barely move under that vice-like grip.
Frustration, rage and pain built to an agonising peak. Behind it
was fear. His eyes were forever shut but fear of him, and the
terror I’d felt at the heat of his hungry gaze, persisted. As I
stood there staring at the corpse, I felt utter terror at the
irrational thought that he would open his eyes. And I felt naked
even though I was dressed in a gown with a comforting high neck and
protective layers of skirts.

Before the pain and rage,
along with that fear, could reach an agonising peak, light beat the
darkness, and the corpse, away and I was standing in a large, stone
courtyard that was littered with leaves. Silence was a sharp clang
in the deserted courtyard and fierce sunlight flooded it with harsh
light. Rolling into the distance all around were the remains of
low, crude, stone houses that were all in the process of falling to
pieces. Many already had missing walls or roofs that had already
caved in. It appeared to be the remains of a village that had
existed long before my time, perhaps thousands of years before the
first European set foot in America.

A few metres away from me
stood the brown mare. I stared at it, knowing it had somehow
brought me here.

No, it didn’t have the
power to do that. I just knew it had somehow called me away from
the... I didn’t even know what to call it because I could no longer
pretend that it, or this, was just a vivid dream.

I made to move toward the
mare only to come to a stop for it was no longer a horse standing a
few feet from me, but a man. I stared at him in
confusion.

He had a honey brown
complexion and was over six feet tall. His coal-black hair, which
hung to the middle of his back, had been shaved at the sides. He
was handsome, with fierce features and small, piercing eyes. A scar
cut across his upper lip and down his chin. Another one ran from
his right eyebrow and up his forehead to disappear into his hair.
He wore what looked like a white kilt that came to his knees. Scars
marred the smooth skin of his muscled arms and torso. He stared at
me, a silent plea in eyes as dark and mysterious as
night.

And then I was back in the
mansion in the warm, silent guest bedroom. I wrapped my arms around
myself, but could not still the tremors.

I didn’t know what had
just happened, but I couldn’t ignore it this time, especially when
I thought of the blond-haired corpse that had lain at my feet. I
couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been real. And the tangled
feelings that had beset me in that “dream”—the intense
self-loathing I’d felt at my face and body—those emotions were
still with me.

I got out of bed and moved
to the wardrobe.

I stood before it staring
at the clothes I had brought with me. I pulled out clothing item
after clothing item, but even looking at the short skirts, tight
jeans and revealing tops made that dread prick my stomach. The
feeling the dream had left behind, of constantly being exposed
along with fear of the male gaze, made nausea gather in the pit of
my stomach.

Throwing the items I had
removed from the wardrobe to one side, I entered Avery’s room. He
was downstairs in his study. I rummaged through his chest of
drawers until I found a sweatshirt of his. I brought it to my face
and inhaled, already feeling the prick of dread in my stomach ease.
I returned to my room and put it on along with a pair of jeans,
thankful the sweatshirt came to my thighs.

Down in the kitchen I
stood at the window looking out on the night pressing against the
glass like a large, diaphanous being desperate to enter. I wore no
make-up and my hair had been pulled away from my face in a messy
ponytail. I still could not get the “dream” out of my mind, and
dread was clamouring against me like cobwebs within a dark, dank
tomb.

Had I somehow teleported
somewhere else earlier on? And the man I had seen. I didn’t think
he was a threat, but why did he appear in place of the brown
mare?

What was happening to me
and what did it all mean?

The soft whisper that had
begun with the first “waking dream” was growing insistent. It was
not a warning like the ones I’d had my whole life. It seemed
instead as if its purpose was to draw me toward some unknown
revelation, whilst the man I had seen was pulling me away from
whatever that was. But I had no idea what any of it
meant.