Chapter 28

This final cover comes from Springbananna.  Let me know what you think.  As always, you guys know that I suck with editing my own stuff so please point out any mistakes or inconsistencies.

-Nikki

Chapter 28

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Steam billowed from the shower, covering every inch of the bathroom, as Miriam turned the dial on the water to as hot as she could stand it.

Boiling hot.

Whenever she glanced down, she could tell that her arms were beginning to turn a bright tomato-red, but she didn’t attempt to turn the knob to cool.

In fact, she barely felt the heat at all.

Because…no matter how scalding the water got, an icy chill still clung to her bones.  She could feel it.

On her shoulders...

The side of her neck...

Her mouth…

With a sigh, she just gave up and stepped out onto a towel.

But, she was smiling.  Even as she reached up and worked another towel through her dripping hair.

It was odd; she hadn’t smiled, at least not for real, in what seemed like forever. Yet, here she was, beaming into the stream-frosted mirror.

She didn’t really know why—though, as she toweled off and slipped into her robe, that smile was still there.

Even as she padded down the hall and into her room.

The corners of her mouth started to ache.

In fact, the smile only faded once she glanced over at her bed, where her sodden, snow-soaked, mud splattered backpack lay like a casualty of war across the pink comforter.

Somehow, it was only then that it all began to sink in.

Out there, in the snow-covered woods, she had been truly kissed for the first time.  Hence, the stubborn smile that she could feel threatening to lift the corners of her mouth, even now.

But...as her eyes trailed over the beaten nylon of her backpack, she was forced to consider the tiny little detail that she hadn’t kissed just anyone—but a stranger.

Not even that, but a weirdo, stalking, prowling…

Vampire.

She couldn’t even think on that last bit, so she merely crossed her arms and threw herself onto her bed.

Vampire.

The word made her shiver as she kicked her feet uselessly at the air.

Trembling, she said it out loud.

And then,

“I have to be dreaming.”

She reached over to pinch herself, just to make sure—but the walls of her room didn’t collage into a terrifying nightmare.

She didn’t wake up.

So she said it again, louder so that the word echoed off the walls, just so she might start to believe it.

Eliot was a vampire.

Surprise of all surprises, she wasn’t exactly skeptical.

Anyone with eyes could see that there was something different about him; a dangerous aura that clung to his edges like shadow.

In a way, she had always known he wasn’t normal—and at least vampire sounded a lot better than psycho serial killer.

Or...did it?

Tilting her head back against the comforter, she tried to reimagine that strange scene in the woods.

There, right in his massive back yard, she had had a mini mental breakdown, pelted him with snow and he…

Kissed her.

All the while sporting ivory fangs that she could feel against her bottom lip, even now.  Fingers shaking, she reached up to trail her thumb along the length of her mouth.

It seemed too surreal—to fantastical to have been real.

But oh, it was.  She could still feel the memory of his lips on hers; sweet, sure and so very soft.

Not to mention that, even with the steam of the shower clinging to her skin, she still felt cold.

With a sigh, she reached up, tearing her fingers through her wet hair in hopes of dragging herself back to solid reality.

But no matter what, his words just get replaying through her mind; “I’m a vampire.”

Surprisingly, after that little admission, he hadn’t said anything else.

Wordlessly he had grabbed the rusty old radio from where it had laid in the snow and marched the rest of the way to the guest house, where he dropped the entire pile in front of Lizzie.

She had thought he might come back—finally talk to her then, but no.

He had just gotten into his car and…

Drove off.

The slam of his car door had reverberated through the clearing like gunshot.

…She had forgotten that part.

A frown replaced that contagious smile and she let her hands fall lip against the mattress suddenly drained.

In a way, Eliot’s reaction was no different than Bobby Saunders’ when he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand and rushed over to his friends demanding his five dollars; that disgusted.

But, she had to admit that she wasn’t sure if was with her, or with himself...

Slowly, she dragged herself upright, suddenly so cold she was shivering.  The windows were closed and the heat was on full blast—but, even wrapped in her robe, she her skin felt encased in ice.

She tried shaking her head to clear the thoughts, but it didn’t work.  She attempted to get up instead, eyes on the window where that big black Victorian loomed in the distance.

Her foot his the edge of her carpet.  She shifted her weight to stand…

And had only enough warning to grab onto the edge of the bedframe before the flash of blue washed over her vision like lightning.

__________

“Well,” Alazzdria remarked from over her shoulder.  “You’ve been keeping busy while I was indisposed.”

“Shut up,” Eliot growled.

He barely spared a glance in her direction, but he knew that the witch was currently crouched over the fireplace of the guest house, stabbing at the smoldering logs with a poker.

The sight was almost comical.  He didn’t know how the hell she was managing such a task when she couldn’t see, but she hadn’t seemed to have burned herself.

At least, not yet.

She said something else—another back-handed quip—but he barely heard her.

All he could think about was....

Miriam.

What the hell was wrong with him?  He wandered, staring into the flickering flames.  He shouldn’t have kissed her.

Bitten her.

Strangled her, maybe?

Anything but that.

Because even if he had given into temptation and killed her…he knew that it would have been a hell of a lot easier to get her out of his mind than it was now.

She was glued there; a brown-haired, midget puzzle piece stuck to his soul that just so happened to smell like roses.

He had tried to leave, after.  Taking his car as far as he could before the substance it ran on—gas—ran out and he had to walk back.

But thoughts of her had followed him every step of the way.

Angrily, he shook his head and tried to focus on anything else.

Hunting down whoever had spied on them, perhaps?

But, no matter how hard he tried, that pale face with those wide brown eyes would pop into his mind once again, drowning out every other thought.

He shouldn’t have kissed her.

“Eliot darling,” he heard Alazzdria say on an exasperated sigh.  “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

“No,” he snapped.  “But I bet you’ll enlighten me, anyway.”

“Correct,” Alazzdria said without missing a beat.  “I said; do you have any idea what you’re doing, my darling?”

He stiffened and shifted in the dusty armchair he sat in.

“What the hell do you mean?” He couldn’t help but wonder just how much of the scene in the clearing the witch had witnessed.  Alazzdria might have been blind—but she could ‘see’ more than he liked to give her credit for.

“Miriam,” the witch replied on another sigh.  “It isn’t like you to take pets Eliot,” she added, sniffing her pert nose.  “I like her—but do not play games which you will not win.”

The warning edge to her tone was clear, but Eliot brushed her off.

“She’s not my pet,” he growled.  But—though it made him sick to even consider—least then he would have been able to classify his relationship with her.

Some vampires, like the kind he used to be, kept certain humans as…toys, which was just a sick was of saying slave.

Living mortal beings, who’s only purpose was for food...and entertainment.

When the predator grew bored of his human pet, he simply got another.

Miriam wasn’t like that.

He couldn’t—wouldn’t—feed from her, and as for entertainment, well she was more mind-wracking infuriating than funny.

Staring at the world with those big empty eyes.

Though, he forced himself to admit, not anymore.

Out there in the clearing…she had never looked more beautiful—no, she had never really been beautiful until that moment, sitting helpless in the snow laughing as she cried.

The volatile motions fit her like the sun fit the sky.

Perfectly.

Even laughing as tears fell down her cheeks, she had seemed more alive than she did faking her smiles and sprouting her lies.  He wondered why she seemed to despise emotion; why she stripped them now and kept her face frozen in that blank, empty mask.

A dark thought slipped into his mind as he considered just how the little mortal would react to another kiss…

“Eliot?”

He flinched as Alazzdria’s voice shattered through his thoughts for the second time.

Angrily, he glared at her, knowing that she couldn’t see him.  “What?”

“Is she’s not your pet then what is she?”  The witch demanded in a way that made him suspect she had asked it several times and he just hadn’t heard her.

“Nothing,” he insisted.  “I only tolerate her for your sake,” he added, throwing her fondness of the girl back in her face.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” The witch tilted her head, so that those eerily eyes stared in his direction.

It was unnerving.  Despite himself, Eliot shifted, crossing his arms.

“It isn’t like you to babysit a human teenager for my sake.”  She almost sounded annoyed at the fact that he wouldn’t jump through any hoops she wanted.

But then her small mouth became set in a firm line that only boded trouble.  “You care for her."

Damming words if there ever were.

“There was a time,” Eliot began in a deadly soft whisper, “when I could have killed you for saying that.”

“Oh, but you won’t,” Alazzdria said, almost smiling.  “Now, answer the question.”

It didn’t need an answer.

Without a word, Eliot stood and turned to the door of the cabin.  He had barely taken a step before Alazzdria’s haunting voice rang after him like the tolling of a bell.

“So if I go over there now.  Across the way to that house, where she lies sleeping peacefully in her bed…and kill her with my own two hands, you wouldn’t be the least bit concerned?”

The ominous edge to her voice made Eliot freeze in his tracks.  Reluctantly he turned, to find those unseeing eyes fixed squarely on him.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh yes I would,” she replied almost cheerfully—but those gray eyes flashed in a way than was anything but pleasant.  “You know I would.”

And why not?  In her day, the witch had done much, much worse.

Slowly, he moved back over to the chair and forced himself back into it.

He didn’t need to say anything—the fact that he hadn’t left said it all more than words ever could.

“Now,” Alazzdria went on as if the interruption had never happened in the first place.  “What are we going to do about her?”

Eliot watched her carefully, looking for any hint of malice.  He couldn't find any...for now. Knowing Alazzdria as he did, it was only a matter of time.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, rising to her full height, “what do we do about her?  The shadow hunters sensed her with you at the hospital.  I know they did—”

Or, Eliot added mentally, if they hadn’t then, the figure spying on them definitely had.

“They’ll come after her,” Alazzdria added, saying what he avoided thinking about.

“What do you suggest we do,” he said gruffly.

Alazzdria smiled, and it was the most chilling smile he had ever had the displeasure to see.

“Protection.  My own,” she added, flashing her white teeth.  “For a price.”

“What makes you think I need your help to protect a human,” Eliot countered.

The witch’s smile faltered.  Her suddenly serious expression made Eliot raise an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Well,” the witch said carefully.  “She’s not a normal human.”

“What do you mean?”  Eliot couldn't help the impulse that had him leaning forward, hands gripping the armsrests of the chair.

Unintentionally, Sage’s words from the night before ran through his mind; ‘her blood’s tainted.’

“Can’t you sense it?”  Alazzdria asked softly.  “Her scent, it’s…wrong somehow.  Corrupted.  I wasn’t sure until I smelled her in the car.”

All Eliot could say in return was; “What do you mean?”

The witch reached up to run a pale hand through her hair.

“I can’t put my finger on it—but there’s something wrong about that girl.  Something dark lives within her…though,” she admitted with a shrug, “I don’t know what.”

Eliot took a deep breath, even though he knew he didn’t need it.

“Like a curse?”

Alazzdria lifted her shoulders.  “Possibly.  Though, I suspect something internal.  If I didn’t know better, I would have said some kind of illness—but she seems perfectly fine to me—”

“Wait.”  Eliot felt his nails dig into the armrests of the chair as a sudden thought came to his mind. As he mulled over his next words, he hesitated.  Could he trust the witch enough to reveal what little he knew?

No.

But there wasn’t any option.  If something really was wrong with Miriam, he had to find out what.

It was impossible—improbable...but still, he forced himself to voice his suspicion anyway.

“What about seizures?”

“Hmmm…”  Alazzdria bit her lip thoughtfully and propped a finger beneath her chin.  “Seizures?  It’s unusual, but not exactly unheard of.  Of course, I would have to do more research—”

“Then do it,” Eliot demanded, rising once again to his feet.

Suddenly, he couldn’t stand in one place.  Irritated, he found himself pacing the narrow length of the cabin while Alazzdria contemplated in silence.

“A challenging riddle,” the witch said after a moment.  “The simple mortal girl who seems normal on the outside, but on the inside…”

Once again, Sage’s words chose than moment to bounce around the inside of Eliot’s skull; tainted.

“Just find an answer,” he snarled.

To his annoyance, Alazzdria just smiled that alarmingly dangerous smile.

But, my darling,” she said in a delicate tone.  “You never answered my original question.”

“What?”  He snapped, feeling as though he were making a deal with the devil.

“Protection.  Of course there will be a price, but I can assure you that your mortal will be safe.”

Eliot almost considered refusing.  He doubted that—as long as he stayed away from her—any hunters would waste their breath on interrogating a human.

But…he wasn’t so sure about Alazzdria.  The woman could be like a child who lashed out at anything and everything when she didn’t get her way.

“Fine.”

“Marvelous,” she gushed, clapping her hands.

Eliot moved to the door before she could think of another way to ensnarl him in her trap.  His hand had barely brushed the doorknob before he forced himself to ask, “How?”

Alazzdria laughed.  The tingling sound unnerved him all the way down to his very bones.

“Oh darling,” she told him on a cackle.  “I have my ways...trust me."

It was the one phrase that he never liked to hear, comming from her.

But what other choice did he have?