Black Hellebore Page 11

  As the years went by, John became increasingly bitter, his misgivings etching deep wrinkles into his face. He would be old and grey before his brother finally died, too old to enjoy his family’s estate. Providing that Richard would actually leave anything behind. He threw money around like farmers throw chicken feed.

  A foul smell suddenly hit him, a smell of fish and gone off milk.

  “Excuse me my lord, what is upsetting you so? Are you not enjoying your beloved brother’s festivities?”

  A man of uncertain age had sat himself down beside John. His hair was greasy and hung down in his heavily bearded face in knotted strands. He had very deep-set eyes which seemed highly alert.

  “I mourn for the times. Nothing lasts in our short lives”, he said truthfully, with clear resentment in his voice.

  The stranger clicked his tongue and bent down closer to John’s ear. His breath made his stomach turn, but still he listened to the whispered words.

  “What if time were meaningless? What if you could stay young forever my lord? What if decades, and even centuries could pass you by in what seems like the blink of an eye?”

  “That sounds like black magic, away with you!” John Moundrell immediately accused the man. He didn’t want anything to do with the dark arts, even if they could potentially solve certain problems. Alone the thought of eternal life made him shudder.

  “And yet, you don’t seem to reject my proposal”

  “...You are playing with the dream of humanity; everlasting life.” John reverently retorted. “Who could reject your words? But the price must be just as high as your offer. Too high for a penniless man like me who has nothing left but his good name.”

  “You are mistaken my lord, the price is truly modest for making all your dreams come true. You possess the name and the money that rules the world. Together we could change the world.”

  He hissed his words like a snake. Sharp, razor-like teeth framed his unwashed, wolf-like mouth. John thought of the bible. He was a God-fearing man who prayed every morning and every night, but still, all his hopes and dreams had yet gone unfulfilled. This stranger’s words were all too tempting.

  “Go on, my noble friend.”

  “You have a very beautiful daughter...” the scoundrel hissed into his ear, and they both fixed their gaze on the beautiful fair skinned Chasity, whose almond-shaped eyes were the deep blue of a clear mountain lake.

  A ruby red brooch shone brightly around her neck; the only thing she had left from her mother, who had died giving life to her. She was old enough to be married, and though there were many possible suitors, John just couldn’t bring himself to lose the most precious thing in his life. She was a good child, well behaved and hard working. Always obedient, and never answered back. She was more beautiful than the sunrise and far too precious for any man.

  “She is the apple of my eye.”

  “She should be mine, to stand by my side as my loyal, loving wife. I will give her not only the world, but also all the time in it. I will be her humble servant, and will grant her her every wish. Make her my wife and I will grant you eternal life.”

  John Moundrells throat felt drier than sandpaper. Chasity waved over at her father from the ladies’ table. She was so captivating, so innocent and pure; so modest, so beautiful.

  His brother would all too happily use her for his own gain, selling her off to anyone for a piece of land. She was the only thing that belonged solely to his little brother, just out of his reach. She was John’s only chance.

  “It would be an honour to call you my son in law.”

  Family is the most important thing in the world to Chasity, and that’s why it hurts her so much more to have to persecute the last living member of it. So many Moundrells had already died in a valiant battle, and so it pains her to have to label Orlando a traitor. His death would not only soil his honor, but that of their whole family. But why should she care about honor, when her heart is breaking.

  “It hurts me to see you suffer, but I did warn you, more than once.” Claudia tries to get through to her. Her voice is a lot softer and calmer than she is usually accustomed to. Chasity is the only one who sees this side of Claudia, but still her words make her angry.

  “It helps nobody when you remind me again and again how you saw this coming but I just didn’t believe you!” As gentle as Claudia’s words were, Chasity’s are sharp and cutting.

  “If only it was just that you didn’t believe me. But you knew that I was right and you simply didn’t want to know. You kept protecting him the whole time! You didn’t help him or anyone else for that matter by doing so! Why did you never threaten him, even just once?”

  Incomprehension and accusation is abundant in Claudia’s words.

  “Why? Why? It is so easy to look back at my decisions and judge me for them! There was no evidence...”

  “...And you never looked for any!” Claudia interrupts her, taking a liberty with her that nobody else would dare to do. Nobody has the right to interrupt the queen while she is speaking, and yet, Chasity falls silent, her eyes simply fixed angrily on Claudia. The silence is heavy in the deserted, candle-lit room. The sun must already be up, and while the others are probably sleeping by now, the two of them are standing here and discussing something that should long since have been decided. There is no excuse for a traitor.

  “He raped her. He jumped on her like an animal, and didn’t give a damn about her feelings. She was probably wishing for death to come, after all of the pain he caused her. Do you really want to protect someone like that?” Claudia asks her urgently, her contempt for Orlando raging in her voice.

  The truth is, she wants to defend Orlando, she wants to protect him, she doesn’t want him to die, but she just can’t do anything about it, and she also can’t forgive him for what he did to that poor girl. She may be able to forgive what he did to her, but she could never forget; he betrayed her, made her look weak and foolish in front of all her subjects.

  She sadly shakes her head and turns her back to Claudia. A silent agreement, but yet: Claudia is not happy about her triumph, but silently approaches Chasity and places her hand on her bare arm. She lays her head on Chasity’s shoulder and pulls her in to her embrace.

  “I’m sorry; I know how much he means to you.” She whispers lovingly into her ear. Her cheek presses warmly against Chasity’s, and the heavy burden suddenly seems more bearable. Feeling relieved, Chasity sinks into Claudia’s arms, stroking her jet black hair.

  “I will always be here for you, just as I have been throughout the centuries. There is nothing you could do that would keep me away from you.”

  Chasity sighs. “I know Claudia, but you are not my family.”

  As she says these words, she realises how hurtful they must be. She wishes she could take those stupid words back right away, but once something is said, there is no going back.

  Claudia immediately takes her hand out of Chasity’s hair, and only when she turns around does she see how hard it has really hit her most loyal friend. Her eyes are filled with tears and her lip is trembling uncontrollably.

  “It...I...” Chasity starts, but Claudia interrupts her again.

  “I have never complained when you didn’t believe me. I said nothing when you made me look like an insignificant speck in front of the others. I have never asked for an apology, exactly the opposite actually, I have felt bad for you instead.”

  Claudia’s words hit Chasity like the cracks of a whip.

  “Even before you inherited the throne, I was always loyal to you. Whenever you’ve felt bad, I have taken care of you. I even let you drink my blood! When your father fell in battle, it was me who helped you back on your feet. We know each other longer than anyone else. When we met, Orlando was nobody, and Mary, she wasn’t even born yet. Still you choose them over me.”

  Though Claudia managed to hold back her tears before, they are now running down her face like a river overflowing a broken dam, making a large lump form in Chasity’s throat. It
’s true; Claudia is the only vampire whose blood she has ever tasted. They were captured by her father’s enemies, thrown in a dark hole like rats and left there for weeks. They were both close to death, almost mad with hunger, but even in that hopeless situation; Claudia never gave up and would rather have died herself than let Chasity do so. Her blood was sweeter than any she had ever drunk before. It tasted of sunshine, warmth and above all: love. Claudia’s blood saved her life.

  “Even though we are not of the same family, I would have hoped that all my efforts that came from my heart would have reached you. I died for you. I am no less connected to you than Mary is.”

  With every word, her voice gets quieter and sadder.

  “But you are blind out of love for your family. There is no room for anyone else...”

  Claudia turns her back and leaves the throne room in resignation, this room in which they made so many decisions together. Chasity would love to go after her and apologise, but even would not change what she had said. She didn’t even mean it in that way, she just meant that she wished Mary and Orlando would be as loyal to her as Claudia has always been. Nobody in the world deserves to be a part of her family more than Claudia, but unfortunately you can’t choose your family, they are thrust upon you. Orlando is her last blood relative, and Mary, through his blood is her niece. Claudia is the most loyal friend and advisor that anyone could ever hope for. She is always honest, even when Chasity doesn’t want to hear the truth. She opens her eyes, even when she keeps them shut tightly. But that still doesn’t change the fact that she is not a member of the Moundrell family, and never will be.

  - 14. Lia Green -

  An unbearable pounding in her head wakes Lia from her slumber. It feels like someone is hammering on her skull from the inside. Her stomach cramps and she suddenly feels so sick that she starts dry heaving.

  Whe she tries to sit up, she screams in pain and sinks back down into her pillow, exhausted. Her whole body feels bruised and swollen, as if somebody had brutally beaten her, but there are no bruises to be seen. Her skin is flawless as always, maybe a little paler than usual, but there are definitely no signs to explain this unspeakably intense pain.

  What did she even do last night? Her bed is a mess and her bedside lamp is lying on the floor. It would definitely be easier to think about it if she didn’t have such a terrible headache. She remembers standing in front of Moundrell Manor in the Italian Gardens waiting for Orlando. Moundrell Manor? How does she know where he lives? Is it possible that she only imagined all of this? But just supposing it is true, what happened after that? Complete blank. Nothing. Where did she spend the night?

  Panic suddenly sweeps over her. Nothing like this has ever happened before. She has often done thing that she wishes she could just forget, but now that she actually can’t remember, it frightens her. If she can’t remember what she did, then she also doesn’t know to whom she needs to apologise for her behaviour or who she even saw while she was doing whatever it was she was doing.

  The way her body feels right now, something must have happened, something unusual, because normally after one of these embarrassing nights, she feels a lot better in the morning. She feels almost reborn every time, completely new and pure, apart from the feeling of shame that usually accompanies it. But this morning she feels closer to death than ever before. As much pain as she is in, she has to do something about this terrible pounding in her head, so she has no choice but to get out of bed and hunt for a headache tablet. Maybe she will even remember what actually happened then.

  Even though the Aspirin doesn’t achieve the desired effect, Lia is just too hyped up to get back into bed. A single look in the mirror is enough to tell her that something definitely isn’t right. Her hair has lost all its shine and is greasy, sticking to her face, and there are very dark circles under her eyes, deeply contrasting with her pale, almost transluscent skin. All colour has drained from her lips, making her look like a corpse that had just climbed out of its coffin.

  She is slowly starting to ask herself whether it was actually her that did something wrong. Maybe she went for the wrong guy and he did something bad to her? But why doesn’t she have any marks or even the tiniest little bruise on her?

  Genius strikes her as she remembers the camera her father had installed a few months ago. He probably hasn’t watched any of the footage as it’s only there in case somebody breaks in. She still thinks it’s unlikely that anyone would break into his house, because in comparison to some of the other estates in the neighbourhood, his seems quite underwhelming, and there is nothing of worth inside the house anyway. Her father has no interest in interior decoration; as he is pretty much never at home. The whole building is decorated with a style that would have been modern in Spartan times.

  But providing that she was actually here last night, the camera will finally prove to be very useful.

  Lia quickly rushes down to the cellar where the recording device and a small monitor are kept in a tiny room, no bigger than a storeroom. At the moment, the quiet courtyard can be seen, the leaves swaying on the trees, occasionally dropping a bit of snow on the ground.

  As Lia rewinds the tape, her heart starts to beat so fast and hard against her chest, that she is afraid the force might break her ribs. She suddenly gasps, shocked to see two figures in a tussle on the screen. She quickly hits the pause button. After a quick inhale and exhale, she presses the play button again. The first few seconds nothing can be seen in the empty courtyard, but then a woman comes into view, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, stumbling from the house in a panic. Because the camera is above the front door, Lia can only see the woman from behind. She is running so quickly, that Lia’s eyes start to burn by just watching her. Seconds later, a man jumping from the air comes into the picture. Like a hawk, he pounces on the woman, who is now turned to face the camera and screaming. It is Lia. She watches in disbelief, and then puts her hand to her chest, which is out for everyone to see on the video. She doesn’t need to see the man’s face to know who he is. She is kicking and hitting Orlando to try and defend herself on screen, but he just throws her over his shoulder and leaps off the ground and out of view with her. Even though she doesn’t know what exactly Orlando is, she now knows that he is no ordinary person, but what unsettles her more is how he treated her in the video. She was trying to run away from him, was frightened and trying to hit him, but he just grabbed her against her will and took her back into the house. What happened then?

  She strokes her arm, and suddenly senses his touch. His hands were there, they fought each other, but why? Where is he now? Did he just leave her lying there?

  There is only one person who can help her right now, and that is Tru. She warned her about Orlando and now Lia understands why. But she needs to know what this is all about. Who is Orlando and how does Tru know him? Did she possibly get all of those scars from him? Did she also fall victim to him? How strange the word ‘victim’ feels, because even though her whole body is aching, she still doesn’t feel anything bad when she thinks of Orlando. She saw what he did on the video, but she has to believe that there is some kind of logical explanation for all of it; maybe not for his super-human strength, but perhaps there is a good reason why he was so violent towards her. He said that he liked her. He wouldn’t have done that if he were only after one thing. Lia knows all too well that when she is in one of her states, that it’s absolutely no problem to get from her, what any man could possibly want. But Orlando always seemed so straightforward and understanding with her. She felt safe with him.

  Lia wipes the palm of her hand in confusion. Is she in the right place? Tru’s writing is completely smudged and barely legible. Is that a 57 or a 61? The houses on Wykeham Street all look the same; boring brick stone façades with self-contained, tiny front gardens, which are littered with rubbish. In one of the houses across from her, and old lady with her grey hair in curlers is looking out the window at her. Lia swallows hard and looks for a doorbell, and when she doesn’t find on
e, knocks on the door instead, making it open a crack. She pushes against the door, which gives way and opens. The entrance hall is cloaked in darkness.

  “Tru?” she calls quietly, but gets no response. She carefully steps inside, and the old linoleum floor feels sticky with every step she takes. There is a musty smell in the house, as if it hasn’t been aired out in a long time, and the only light source is coming from upstairs. It is a flickering artificial neon light that burns Lia’s eyes and makes her head start throbbing again.

  “Tru!” she calls again, but still no answer. Before she heads upstairs, she has a quick look into the room beside her. It is a small kitchen and the windows have been blocked out by some kind of black plastic board. There is a piece missing on one corner, where a ray of light is peeking into the room. There are empty glasses everywhere and there are the remains of some kind of animal on the table, swarming with flies. Lia covers her mouth in disgust and wrinkles her nose. A cold shiver goes down her spine. What has she gotten herself into? What if this isn’t even Tru’s house and she has gone into some crazy person’s house instead?

  She quickly leaves the kitchen and heads back to the stairs. A loud creaking can be heard when she takes the first step up. Frightened, Lia looks nervously up at the second floor. The neon light is still the only thing she can see. There is no sound coming from anywhere in the house. The wallpaper is torn on the walls heading up the stairs. In the places where pictures might have been hanging before, there are now only broken shards of glass on the floor. Why does she feel like she is breaking in, when Tru invited her here and even left the front door open?