Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
B oth books sat open in my lap. I was torn on what to read. My curiosity got the better of me. My fingers grazed the cover of the strange book. What was this book? The Cursed Life of Death. My lip caught between my teeth. Dorian had said it was blank like a fresh journal. But I remember there being text when I found it. Surely there had been. Hesitation lingered.
“What are you so scared of?” I chastised myself before wriggling back on the seat by the window. Wind howled outside, a flurry of decaying leaves swirling down the gravel road. Victor’s carriage leading their disruption. He had barely spoken to me all morning much to Maaier’s delight. Who proceeded to bound around the manor with a spring in his every step. I couldn’t tell whether I liked it or loathed it. Seeing him so joyous as to Victor’s displeasure of going to work however did bring a small smile to my face
I spread the pages of the old book, running fingers along the seam where the pages met. The scent of old musk hit my nose like a welcoming comfort. The ink on the page worn out with time.
Faded in spots and creased in others. The font not typed but rather handwritten. An elegant scrawl across the yellowed parchment.
“This book reflects a life lost in time. A life once so desired to return to now so despised. The life in question is no other than Death himself. How did the angel of death fall so far from heaven or was he on earth all along? Many people know him as many different names and deities. But most commonly he is referred to as The Reaper. The one who helps souls to their final resting place, wherever they decide that be.”
I drank in the text, indulging in every word. The strange story drew me in, captivating my every attention. Who was Death? Was he the same one who had touched me? Who was the author? Turning the page, I noticed the sketch. A small butterfly in the centre of the page above a roughly drawn garden. Although the line work was simple the piece was unmistakably beautiful. An image worthy of a frame on the wall.
My fingers lingered over the page, hesitant to touch the art. Whoever drew this was gifted. Even mother couldn't capture the grace of the insect as they flew. My fingers pressed against the wings. Their sketching was ever so delicate. Small smoke like tendrils of shadow danced up from the drawing. Drawing my hand to the page. Holding it against it.
A light flashed before my eyes. The image of a young girl painting my sight. Her laughter filled the air as she swirled and spun through the tall grass. Not caring who saw. Her wild dark hair fanning out around her with each twist. A single colour slowly seeping into the memory. Her pale dress an almost light shade of red. Pink if I were correct in my guess, from what others had mentioned. The young girl looked no older than seven. Her youth radiating from her with a toothless grin. The butterfly floated past. Her attention locked onto it as she ran. A voice called for the girl but she paid it no mind. Instead she dashed after the creature. Her breathy laugh filled the spring air. I closed my eyes, filling my nose with the scent of greenery and wildflowers as I inhaled.
When I opened my eyes I was back in my room. The laughter from the small girl still echoing softly in the distance. A small smile pricked my lips. I looked back down at the odd book in my hand. The memory of the girl now etched forever in the pages. But who was she? I looked to the next page only to find it blank. My heart sank. Where had it gone? The book was full before. I flicked through the pages, finding nothing but plain yellow paper. My stomach dropped, the hopeful mood now depleted. I needed this book. Something in my soul telling me the answers were all I needed.
Tilting my head back, I looked up at the sky beyond the window. The windstill danced through the trees like the little girl. If I could close my eyes, I had the tiniest hint of the pink colour to remember but I knew that would fade just like the red had. It was a strange sensation. To witness a colour for the first time but not know what it truly was. To not be able to see how each colour blooms through every day.
Footsteps drew near beyond the closed door. With a hushed curse, I flew from the bench. Pulling the cushions back to reveal my hiding spot. I thrust the book in and sat back on the bench. Just in time to hear a knock on the door. I flicked open to a random page in the book Maaier gave me and waited for the intrusion.
“Morning miss Verspera.” Mary smiled, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Her light was somewhat dimmer than usual.
“Are you alright?” I made to move only to have her stop me with a hand.
“I am fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Because of the attack in town?”
Mary nodded, keeping her distance. I pulled my legs from the bench and put them before me. Offering her my full attention.
“Your friend warned me it wasn’t safe here,” She said softly, her eyes not meeting mine. Blasted Dorian, of course she would tell everyone that was the case just so she didn't have to come here.
“Dorian just hates this house. That is all. Trust me. You are safer here than you would out there.”
Mary said nothing but nodded.
Her gaze fixed to the floor. As if the imprints of the floorboards were more interesting than me.
“Was that all?” I said softly, flexing my fingers on the spare book. Mary shook her head.
“Sorry, Vespera. I lost myself for a second there. I came to see if you required company for today? It was supposed to rain and I thought the greenhouse may be a good place to stay warm.” She brightened slowly. How could I say no to that? She seemed genuinely curious as to the plants. I was always happy to help a fellow gardener. A warm smile spread across my face.
“Of course.”
The greenhouse was warm upon arrival. The rain outside still just a mere threat rather than a downpour. It looked at least six hours later than it was outside. Mary tried her hardest to contain her excitement as she noticed the small sprouts growing from the pots we had soiled last time. Before that strange man was in the forest. A chill ran through me. He wasn’t here. He was long gone. I assured myself over and over again until I had some sort of control on my fear.
“Vespera! Look at the tiny flowers on this bush!”
We took inventory of every new leaf and bloom on each plant, myself noting the size, and Mary noting the colour, to ensure they were growing correctly.
I walked to the patch of bare bench. Unmarked by soil or plant matter. My heart catching alight within me. The memory of Maaier’s sinful gaze caused my stomach to clench. God that was heavenly.
Mary asked a question beside me but all I could think of was what Maaier’s tongue would feel like on the skin.. My chest became hot and tight. This was wrong. I shouldn't be thinking about my bodyguard in this way. I should be more concerned with where he was and why he was only interested in basic intimate acts on his time, not mine. Why was I so enraptured with him? He was nothing to me. Just a man who devoured my attention like his favourite meal.
God above what was wrong with me. I didn't want colour. I didn't need it. But why did he make a small lost part of me believe he was the one who would give it to me. I needed to be committed to the asylum, I swear there was something fundamentally wrong with me. Facing Mary, I raised my brows with a hum. She just grinned and reached for the watering can.
“I see you two are having fun.” Arthur’s voice rang through the greenhouse. Mary’s shudder was small, barely noticeable, but still a flinch not unnoticed by my eyes. I feigned a smile and stepped toward her.
“We thought we would come out and document some growth.”
“Lovely. But Mary, your duties are inside the manor, not along with my niece.” His expression was that of a father scolding a child. Mary’s mood deflated as her shoulders drooped. A small “Yes, sir,” falling from her lips with a sigh.
“Arthur, she is fine in here with me.”
“Do not argue Vespera.” Anger flashed across his expression before settling back into disappointment.
I opened my mouth to protest only to have Maaier appear in the doorway. Looking as cocky as ever.
“Come now Arthur. Shouldn’t you be at work with young Victor? Not in here scolding two women for simply learning.” His hands behind his back, he looked as arrogant as ever. Even the fake smile reeked of arrogance.
“Shouldn’t you be out here protecting her?” He mocked Maaier’s tone.
“I should have been. But Sophia requested an update on her safety. I apologise, Lady Vespera, for my delay.”
Narrowing my gaze, I accepted the apology. Confusion furrowing my brow at his use of my title.
“Mary, fetch yourself, Lady Vespera and I a pot of tea and some biscuits. I wish to learn more of…” He waved his hands to the plants lining the benches “whatever all these are.”
Mary bowed before scurrying out the door, hiding her face from us all. Arthur grunted but left us be.
My body sparked to life at the thought of being alone in the greenhouse with Maaier once again. I faced the bench once more, trying to repress the memory attached to it as I pulled a large terracotta pot toward me with a rose bush blooming from within.
Maaier stalked closer, like a cat to a mouse. I could see from the corner of my eye the same hunger that roiled through him that night still lurked in his eyes now.
“Pass the trowel please.” I managed.
Maaier chuckled but ignored me. Instead coming to a halt behind me. His length pressing into my behind. I grit my teeth, trying a failed attempt at ignoring how heated my body felt against his.
“I think I've come to like this greenhouse,” He murmured into my ear. His hands sneaked their way up my waist.
I scoffed, “Maaier, people can see how close you are to me. This is highly inappropriate.”
“So? That has never stopped me before.” He chuckled to himself. His hands reached higher. Fingers ghosting over my stomach. Thank heavens I wore another high collared dress today.
Butterflies fluttered through my stomach under his gentle touch, longing heated his eyes. My heart raced. What if someone had seen this interaction? I could not tear my gaze from Maaier’s. His tongue darted out over his bottom lip. The butterflies turned into a frenzy as I leant closer.
The greenhouse door creaked. I scrambled back from him, trying to regain control over my breathing.
“Ah, there you are Mary!” Maaier clapped, turning his attention to the silver tray in her hands. A master of acting as if he didn’t just set my every fibre on fire.
My heart thumped against my chest.
What did he mean by he won't wait long. Was I going to die tonight? Would he finally kill me? That would be a better outcome than him teasing me all the time.
I didn’t go to the greenhouse. I wasn’t about to risk my life for some strange man. No matter how devilish he looked or how he had managed to worm his way under my skin.
Instead I curled up under my blankets in bed with the oil lamp beside me. The rain, falling on the earth outside, a welcome comfort. The strange book in my lap.
I braced for the same blank pages but instead found more writing. With a sigh of relief, I wriggled back in the sheets. Holding the book up to my nose to read in the dim light.
“Death is not something to be feared. But to any mortal being, be it big or small, it is but the fear of the unknown that terrifies them more than the end of life. We watch the families mourn their loved one as they pass over. He holds them close as they depart. Some are harder to watch than others. After all, that is how Death got his role in the first place. Every Reaper has an origin. There is more than one. This origin however depicts what was said to be the last reaper. The Reaper to bind all souls. Only this Reaper was cursed because of his origin. He wouldn’t find love until that person accepted him for who he was. For what he now was. A person to see past the darkness and into the heart and soul of a man desperate for life.”
The words were like a dagger to the chest. Slicing into me with each syllable. I related to every word. What came after our bleak existence was not something that weighed lightly on me. It was always in the forefront of my mind. I would need only the deepest soul connection to feel fulfilled. Someone to accept my curse and not feel like they weren’t good enough for me if they could not bring me colour. But that wasn’t the truth. The truth was, I was terrified of what a world of colour could be for me. Would the colour be worth it? Worth the adjustment? I hated change at the best of times.
Lately it seemed a shift had taken root in me. I wasn't entirely sure it was dark that I had preferred but more that I had felt comfortable in. Anxiety had begun to flourish in me once. Something I had suffered long with. People would always see Dorian as the one who would crumble at the slightest change but it was always me. I just didn’t show it outwardly.
Spending each moment inside where it was safe rather than out in the real world. Safe with my ghosts in the walls and an attacker in the halls. I huffed out a laugh to myself at the thought.
I flicked open the next page. The sketch sent a jolt through me. An iris in black ink staring back at me. The bloom was so vivid you could almost pluck it from the page. I touched the picture feeling another faint stab of pain under my fingers before the light took over. Small tendrils of black shadow tying my hand to the book just like last time.
The small girl from before had now grown into a woman, a truly beautiful one at that. Running through the field once more but this time followed by a young boy. His small legs tottering beneath him. The toddler giggled as he called for his mummy. The dark eyes shining in the afternoon sun. The woman called for him but the sound was muffled as if spoken underwater. The young child caught up to her, holding her tight as he squawked in delight. The beautiful woman held him close. An iris poking out from her dark braid.
The boy held her close. Pressing his face against her cheek.
My own smile twitched my face as I withdrew from the memory. Who was this boy? Was his mother a Florian? Was I watching the beginning of the curse or the beginning of the reaper? The woman looked so familiar. I couldn't place where or how I had seen her before. The familiarity gnawed away at me.
The pages faded to blank before me. I fell back against the pillows with a sigh. This was ridiculous. It would take me days to find out what I needed. Why had Death recoiled when he touched me, leaving me with only a memory of red? Footsteps sounded down the hall drawing near.
Panicked, I threw the book under the covers and reached for the flower book Maaier had got me.
The heavy footsteps stopped outside my door. My heart leapt into my throat. The door swung open.
Maaier’s heavy breathing filled the room.
“You’re late,” He huffed before quietly shutting the door behind him.
“Maaier, this is highly inappropriate,” I said loud enough for anyone to hear. Just on the off chance I was attacked again. I couldn’t be too safe. Despite how unphased I had been lately.
“Brat,” He snarled before stalking forward.
I sat up in bed, letting the covers fall slightly. The white of my nightshirt, sheer in the dim light.
“Maaier if you come here to kill me please just get it over and done with. I am tired of waiting for someone to finally take my last breath." I admitted. I was so tired of it all.
“You think I was going to kill you?” He froze only steps from the bed.
“Isn’t that why you keep toying with me?” I said, keeping my voice small.
“Vespera.” He breathed before walking over to the large windows. “Why would I kill the one thing bringing me a shred of happiness that I haven't felt in a long time?”
My skin heated as my heart came to life. Was he being serious?
“You’ve toyed with me over and over again. I honestly can’t tell whether I like you or despise you.”
“Why not both?” He smirked as he turned to me. I rolled my eyes, falling back into the pillows.
Maaier walked up to the bed once more. Kneeling on the mattress, he lifted the book from my grasp.
He looked at the cover. A mischievous smirk covered his mouth
“Good to see you think of me at night.”
He leant over me. The scent of spice and rain clinging to his skin. His damp hair hanging over his forehead.
“You are such a prick,” I sighed, looking up to him. His gloved hands settled beside my bed.
“I am a prick. That much is true.” He shrugged. “But I am glad that you told the little doctor that he was not the one for you.”
Panic rushed through me. “You heard that.”
“It is my job to watch after you, little bloom. I hear everything.”
“Why you little rat!” My eyes grew wide. Wondering just how much of it he heard. Did he know that I had walked on Victor pleasuring himself too? Of course he did. A man like him would have to know everything.
“Your colour secret is safe with me. When you desire to come out of the darkness, I will help you find the one to bring it to life. Unless you would rather remain in the darkness with me?”
“Oh please shut up,” I groaned.
Maaier laughed loudly, the sound like a summer dream.
“It’s a fact of life Vespera. You think I am scared of a little curse? We are all cursed. Maybe one day you'll figure out mine.”
I furrowed my brow. His lips were mere inches from mine. My tongue darted out to wet my lips. God, I wished he would kiss me. Even just touch me or look at me with that intense dark gaze he wore that flooded sparks of heat through the entirety of my being. Maybe I should have gone to the greenhouse that night.
Maaier’s eyes drank in my face. His gaze lingering on my eyes, his pupils blown black.
My body sparked with need.
His gloved hand cupped my cheek. The movement was sweet and gentle, but oddly pleading. One moment it was there. The next it was gone.
He moved back on the bed. Staring at my chest as it rose and fell.
“Get some rest,” He muttered before making his way back to the window. I watched as he sat on the window seat. Watching as the clouds rolled by. The rain still pattering on the glass.