State of Grace (Resurrection) (15 page)

‘Please explain again,’ Viktor asked politely.

I bit my lip, not sure if I could. I couldn’t explain it to myself!

‘This tumour,’ I began.

‘Which no one can see, only emaareyes, whatever they are, and cats,’ Viktor interjected.

‘No. Yes. I mean –’
I paused, gathering my thoughts. ‘MRIs and CATs are machines that can look inside the human body and see what’s wrong with it.’ This was oversimplifying things to say the least.

‘Machines?
Again this is a word that is not familiar to us.’

‘A machine is something mechanical, like…’ I cast around for something they might relate to. ‘A mill,’ I said, that being the only thing I could think of
that wasn’t modern and had been around for a couple of thousand years at least. ‘A mill is a machine used to grind corn into flour. Crudely, I admit, but a machine all the same. A machine is something been built by people and has moving parts and is designed to do a specific job.’ I was not sure if this was the dictionary definition of the word machine, but it was the best I could do considering the circumstances. I could see them trying to think this one through and had to admit that a mill, with all its simplicity (although ingenious at the time) was as different to an MRI as a bacterium is to a monkey.

‘
Not magic?’ That was Viktor, making sure he was covering all the bases.

‘No.’ I smiled. ‘Not magic. People made these machines.’ Although I supposed it was a kind of magic, even if that brand of magic was called science. It ce
rtainly appeared magical to me. Hell, a plane thundering into the sky and staying there for several hours was magical to me. Actually, no-one totally understood the mechanics of that, so…

‘Anyway,’ I carried on, ‘this tumour
is growing, and will eventually kill me. I think what is happening to me now is part of that process.’

The fire was roaring and its heat was welcome. Roman
leant forward to throw on more firewood. I noticed he had changed his clothes. Both of them had. Roman was wearing a red tunic trimmed with gold that reached to his knees, black breeches and brown leather boots. He looked like an extra in an old Errol Flynn film. I fingered the bundle of fabric I had dumped next to me, not liking how rough it felt. I really hoped they weren’t going to make me wear it.

‘I am having hallucinations.’ I said,
and then caught sight of their faces. ‘Visions,’ I explained. ‘One minute I am normal, in my own time, minding my own business, and the next minute I am somewhere else. And each time I see Roman. Then, after a while, I am normal again. Except for the vicious headache.’

‘So you are asleep
when these visions occur? Do you think you are asleep now?’

‘I don’t seem to be, but I suppose you could say it’s like a daydream. I can remember everything really clearly, not like a dream w
here you can only remember bits and everything is disjointed.’

Roman and Viktor shared a very long look before Viktor said, with a wry smile, ‘I will ask the right question this time.
When
are you?’

‘2013.’

‘The year two thousand and thirteen?’  Two pairs of wide eyes met mine. Hah! More than a hint of expression from both of them for once. Gotcha!

‘
This is the year of our lord one thousand, one hundred and twenty,’ Viktor breathed. ‘You believe you are living nearly nine hundred years into the future?’

‘It was more than that,’ Roman said in a strangled voice. ‘I first saw her shortly after I was resurrected. That’s seven hundred years ago.’

‘And you have seen her thrice more, including this time?’

‘After Bredon Hill
,’ he confirmed. ‘Saxons were tracking her through the woods, but they fled when they got a good look at her.’

‘Oh?’ Viktor was curious. ‘Why would Saxons flee from a mere woman?’

‘She was naked, at night, in the woods. They thought she was a ghost or a witch. One even thought she was a demon.’

I had wondere
d what made those men run, and I smiled; demon, indeed!

‘There is no pattern to these appearances?’ Viktor queried, looking from Roman to me and back again.

‘No,’ Roman and I both said at the same time.

‘Only –,’ I said. ‘I have never had hallucinations before the tumour. That’s w
hy I think it must be pressing on a part of my brain that is responsible for visions, or dreams. I really don’t know!’

Roman held up one finger for silence
to think. I closed my mouth, waiting for him to speak and my stomach rumbled loudly in the quiet room.

Viktor said,
‘We all need to feed, the woman especially. If you intend to drink from her you must keep her strong.’

‘Hey! Hang on a minute!’

‘Shush!’ Roman commanded. I shushed reluctantly, still wary of him, although yesterday’s fear had not resurfaced. Yet.

‘I think there may be something.’ He hesitated, eyes narrowing as he thought. ‘I have only seen her when I am near here. Near Aberhonddu, or Brychan, as the
Normans call it. You claim you live here?’

‘I lived here until I was about twenty, then I went to
London to work for an airline. I came back here after my pilot licence was suspended.’ From their expressions I could tell I had lost them again. ‘I wasn’t allowed to fly anymore because of the tumour,’ I explained.

‘Yes. Flying. We will
discuss this later,’ Viktor said and from the tone of his voice I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. ‘Am I right in saying that you have only recently returned to Aberhonddu?’ he asked me.

‘A couple of months ago.’

‘And you had no visions before this?’

‘No.’

‘Not even when you lived here previously?’

‘No, so
that’s why I think it’s the tumour.’

‘
The tumour,’ he said, stumbling over the unfamiliar word, ‘is allowing you to travel from your time to ours. Many would say it is magic, or the devil.’

‘No, it’s not
–’ I stopped. ‘Look, I don’t think it is magic, or time travel, or the work of the devil. I’m hallucinating, that’s all. You are not real. You are part of my subconscious. For some reason, I have dreamt you up and I’m spending more and more time dreaming about you.’

I wondered again exactly how much time I was spending hallucinating.
On the last few occasions hardly any time had passed in my ‘real’ world, and I hoped that was the case for this occasion, otherwise my parents would be frantic.

‘You don’t think we are real?’ Viktor was almost laughin
g. ‘It would not be the first time humans have believed we do not exist.’ He chuckled, then added, ‘That is a good thing.’ Then the humour left his eyes.

Roman nodded his agreement. ‘I am real, and you are here,’ he insisted. ‘You
should not be, yet you are, although. I don’t know for how long,’ he added, and I thought his voice sounded wistful. Suddenly he was all business. ‘Now we go,’ he said and stood, quickly. ‘Put on the garments I gave you. You will need them.’

Viktor was out of
the door before I could blink and I heard him whistling to the horses in the paddock. Roman stared at me, waiting. ‘Put the clothes on’, he insisted.

I scooped up the bundle and retreated behind the curtain and into the other room. He may have seen me naked more than once, but that didn’t mean I was pr
epared to strip off for him now, although there was a small part of me, a part I was keeping a really good grip on, that was desperate for him to see me bare. I wanted to feel his eyes on my body, then his lips, then his hands, and then his –

Cross with myself, I yanked the tunic over my head and flung it on the bed, not wanting to admit that he had that kind of an effect on me. It was worse when he was near, but even when he wasn’t I carried an awareness of him in my mind.

As I clambered into a drab brown dress so rough it would probably make my skin chafe, I considered my reactions to both men. Viktor had tried to seduce me, and would undoubtedly have succeeded if he had not pulled away. I seemed to be powerless against either of them. But with Viktor there was an undercurrent of revulsion: although I had wanted him, I hadn’t wanted him, if you see what I mean. With Roman – well, I just wanted him. I was frightened of him, deep in my bones, and a part of me cringed in terror at the thought of him but that didn’t stop me wanting him with every fibre of my being. Great. Now all I had to do was control myself.

I certainly wasn’t controlling the dress. I managed to get it over my head, and then I got stuck.

‘Er…’ I called.

I didn’t hear
him come in the room. He had been fast and quiet, but I knew he was there even though he was behind me – I could sense him, and I could smell him. Then I felt his hands on me, easing the fabric down over my shoulders, his fingers sure and deft. He did the laces up at the back, pulling them so tight that I gasped, and I wasn’t sure whether it was because he had tightened the laces too much or because his hands were caressing my waist.

I felt air on the nape of my neck and heard his slow, deep intake of breath as he drew my scent deep into his lungs. His lips were inches from my skin and I tensed in delicious anticipation. He licked my ear, a tantalising feather touch, and I felt an almost-there graze of his teeth. His chest pressed into my back and his arms wrapped arou
nd me as he squeezed me into him .I could feel him, all of him, especially that hard bit of him that said he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

Without warning h
e dropped his arms and moved away and I immediately felt bereft. My skin tingled all over and I shuddered with arousal, my cheeks blushing with shame. I spun round to face him, and then froze when I saw his face: his hunger for me was almost palpable. He uttered a small noise, a deep-throated growl, and raised one hand as if to touch me, then let it fall. He inhaled, scenting me again.

‘You smell like no human I have ever met,’ he said, his voice rough.

‘What’s with this ‘human’ thing?’ I asked in an unsteady voice. He stared at me, still and silent in the dark room, a large shadow with a pale face and luminous eyes. I decided to take the bull by the horns and said, ‘You aren’t human are you?’ I had a moment of insight. ‘Neither you nor Viktor.’

I knew he wasn’t going to answer me, but Viktor did.
I jumped as I hadn’t heard him come back in. I wished they would stop doing that, it was getting to be annoying.

‘No, we are not.’

Roman whipped his head round and hissed at him, ‘Do not Viktor! Do I have to remind you what needs to be done if she knows?’

‘She alre
ady knows. She may not admit it to herself or believe it yet, but she knows.’

Roman’s shoulders slumped. ‘You
will have to take care of it,’ he muttered. ‘She does not respond to me.’

‘No!’ Viktor interjected, stepping between me and Roman. Roman looked defeated. ‘
I will not enthral her,’ Viktor said.

Roman looked incredulous. ‘Then I must kill her,’ he said harshly, ‘if you will not remove her memory.’