Chapter Two
Death is peaceful, while it lasts.
Like I am floating around in an endless sky. Like a weight has been lifted off my chest. The vice around my heart has finally broken apart.
My mind is quiet, no thoughts racing through it.
My lungs feel full of fresh air and breathing comes easier. With each breath I take, I feel a longing in my heart to move forward toward what looks like the sun.
Hopefully it takes me to wherever my parents and Gracie are.
I start to move forward, but like someone pulling a string, I get tugged backward.
It’s a gentle tug at first, then it’s abrupt. I keep trying to move forward, but each time I get closer, I am pulled right back.
Desperately I try and grasp onto whatever I can to keep me from moving further back, but nothing is around me.
I would do anything to stay, anything to keep moving forward.
One last hard tug, and the collision is instant, like being woken by a bucket of ice-cold water. I collide back into my body with such force, the world around me explodes into a million pieces of light.
My eyes open.
I jolt upward as I gasp, rapidly breathing in and out like I cannot get enough air.
My hand comes to my chest and rests over my heart. A steady beat is at work underneath my palm.
The movement triggers pain that radiates throughout my entire body. In a blind panic, I bring my hands to my shoulders, then my neck, continuing to trace my body. I am free from any wounds.
After blinking a few times, I look around, noticing that I am in an unfamiliar bedroom.
The moon is shining brightly through black sheer curtains, lighting up everything around me.
I am lying in a wooden four-poster bed with black silk sheets and a crimson duvet.
There are oriental hand-woven carpets all around the room.
A sitting area is in the middle of the room, with couches and a roaring fire that looks like it has been recently tended to.
“Where the hell am I?” I whisper into the room.
I pull my hand up, bringing it to my mouth. The movement making me realize how dry it is and how terribly my gums hurt. I can barely lift my tongue off the roof of my mouth.
My eyes hungrily search the room for some water. Turning next to me, I see a glass on the bedside table. Not thinking twice about it, I grab it and quickly chug the contents.
Too thick to be water, but I do not stop until the glass is empty. Whatever it is, may be the best thing I have ever tasted in my entire life.
Pulling back from the glass, I let out a gasp for air and slide my finger around the rim.
My finger pulls back, the tip of it drenched in red. Not a bright red, but crimson.
Blood.
The glass falls to the ground, slipping through my fingers as my hand starts to shake. I lean forward as the urge to vomit works its way up my throat.
Throwing the covers off me, I jump out of bed and immediately fall down.
I go to stand up again, but I feel like a fawn who was just born to the world. My eyes frantically look around the room in a search for a bathroom.
They land on a door across the room and I move toward it slowly, grabbing various items to keep me upright. Every step sends a jolt of electric pain through my body.
I pause for a break as my weak legs shake beneath me. If I do not get to a toilet soon, I am going to throw up the contents of my stomach, all over this very expensive looking rug.
My body leans against the door as it opens with a creak. I stumble into the white and black bathroom and gracelessly collapse onto the toilet. All but seconds pass before I start to violently vomit. I grab the edges of the toilet as I heave.
Weakness takes over as my body slumps down onto the bathroom floor. The checkered tiles feel cool underneath my feverish skin. Tears start pricking in the corner of my eyes.
Think, Solene, think. What happened and where are you?
My eyes squeeze shut as a memory comes forward of me and Gracie out at the bars.
Recollection hits like a blow to the chest. Lifeless eyes staring up at the sky flash across my vision. My ears start to ring with a heart shattering crack as I feel the sharp pain in my wrist that spreads throughout my body.
“Oh no,” I choke out.
I remember it all, everything. Gracie is dead.
Tears spill from my eyes, streaming down my face as I crawl over to the sink. When I reach the edge of the counter, I pull myself up. Slowly I lift my head up to meet the mirror.
Looking back at me is a sickly reflection of myself, with bright red irises.
A scream works its way up my throat, but I slap my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound as I start to step backward out of the bathroom. I stumble and fall onto the floor as my legs give out under me. The tears pour out faster as I lay there.
“This is just a dream. I need to go back to sleep and I will wake up somewhere else because this is just a dream,” I repeat over and over to myself as salty tears drip onto my tongue.
I crawl back to the bed and climb back under the covers, closing my eyes. The men we were with must have taken me and brought me back to their house. Surely they will come and get me soon enough.
The streamline of tears does not stop as I feel grief burrow itself into my bones once again. I turn into the pillow under me to suppress the sobs that slip through my lips.
I have a terrible feeling that this is not just a dream, but I am still going to try and sleep it away.
I have never been able to trust my gut anyways.
? ? ?
I am unsure how many days have passed, but it’s the same thing every time I wake. A miserable, never-ending cycle.
Someone brings in a fresh glass of blood while I am sleeping. I wake up with a jolt distressed and thirsty, reach over, and gulp the glass down in one breath. I remember it’s blood, run to the bathroom, and throw it up. I avoid the mirror on the way out of the bathroom as I get back in bed.
Tears wake me up and tears put me to sleep. I feel like I am drowning in a never-ending ocean of grief and pain.
I meet Gracie in my dreams every time I sleep. She looks happy and peaceful.
It is always the same dream. We are sitting on the beach talking and eating our favorite subs from the shop across the street from the beach access.
My eyes will glance over to her, waiting for a response to what I said and I will see her smiling at me, tears running down her face. Then she disappears.
Maybe this is her way of telling me that she is okay.
When I wake, I have noticed that it is always nighttime, so I never know how much time has passed.
I cannot say I really care either.
Sometimes I cry so hard, my entire body shakes and I pass out from how much pain it causes. There is electricity coursing through my body constantly. It feels like the worst fever you have ever had. My body so sore that anything I touch, hurts.
But someone has been caring for me. Someone lays cool rags on me while I sleep and brings me fresh glasses of blood.
But I stopped drinking the blood days ago and my stomach is empty.
Sitting all the way up in bed, I try to stretch my limbs as much as a I can. It is probably not good for me to be in bed this much, but I am so tired.
There is also the additional factor that I have absolutely no idea where I am.
Just as I am about to lie back down, I hear the doorknob start to turn. In a panic, I desperately look around for something to arm myself with.
There is nothing. Great.
I grab my pillow and hug it to the front of my chest, creating some form of a barrier. It takes every bit of strength I have not the hide my face in it.
The door opens all the way and in steps a delicate woman. She closes the door behind her and slowly starts making her way toward me.
She looks as if she has just stepped out of a portrait. She has a warm, tawny complexion, inky curls that graze her shoulders, and deep green eyes. She looks around the same age as me.
“Oh, my lady, you are awake. I have been so worried about you.”
I stare at her as my mouth gapes open.
Seconds pass before I gather the courage to speak.
“I’m sorry, but can you please tell me what has happened?” I lean forward, desperate. “Or even better, can you help me get out of here. Please. I need to get back home and I have no idea where I am or what has happened to me.”
She rushes forward and I slide back until I hit the headboard.
“Shhh, you cannot say those words out loud. I cannot help you escape, that is treason,” she whispers as she looks around.
“Treason. Treason from who? Where am I?” I shout, ignoring the fact she told me to be quiet.
She rears back, eyes wide as she looks at me.
I am starting to get impatient, but I can tell that raising my voice is scaring her. I do not want to scare the only person who can possibly help me.
“Please,” I say.
The woman takes a deep breath and comes and sits on the edge of the bed. I feel myself start to lean away from her because although she seems harmless so far, there is an otherworldly presence about her.
“Treason of the king, and please keep your voice down,” she says quietly.
I look at her confused. “What do you mean the king?”
“The King of the Vryko Kingdom. You are in the Etherealm.”
“Okay, so where is that? Are we still in Georgia?”
She just stares back at me, blinking once.
“I am confused. What is the Etherealm?” I ask, impatience in my tone.
“It is the realm of the others, my lady. I cannot tell you much, I was told not to do so.”
“Oh, that’s just great,” I say as I throw my hands up in the air.
She gets up and starts to pull out clothes from the wardrobe in the corner. When she is done laying them out, she walks into the bathroom.
“Wait, please come back,” I say.
I cringe at the desperation in my voice.
“I am sorry. I just do not know what is going on and I am really scared.”
The admission taste sour on my tongue.
“Come into the bathroom. I am drawing a bath for you,” she says.
I move toward the bathroom, each step feeling easier than the last. I bend my head forward, sniffing myself. I haven’t washed in days and all the sweating surely has not helped.
I step through the doorway and the woman points to the bathtub already filled to the brim with bubbles and steam.
All modesty goes out the window as I pull my gown off and warily step into it, settling down to my shoulders.
The water smells like roses and I inhale the steam as I try to calm my nerves.
Fingers land on my scalp and I jump at the contact. The woman starts to wash my hair, lathering it in soap that smells like eucalyptus. It feels wrong, yet I do nothing to stop her. I am way too weak to do it myself anyways.
Today is the best I have felt so far, but I cannot ignore the hunger pains in my stomach.
We sit in silence as she continues to wash my hair. She offers to wash my body for me, but I refuse, taking the rag from her and doing it myself.
It is obvious that this woman is avoiding answering any questions. She is also obviously very scared of this king. But I refuse to not know what is going on. So, I will start slow and work my way up to get the information I need.
I will be getting out of here one way or another.
“Where are the two men?” I ask.
“Which men my lady?”
“The men who took me. The ones who brought me to this house. When are they coming back?”
She pauses. “I am sorry but I do not understand what you are asking.”
I shake my head in frustration.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“My name is Ivorie. I am assigned to be your lady’s maid.”
Whatever that is.
“Okay. Well, my name is Solene,” I say.
Seconds pass and she does not respond. Water splashes into the tub around me, cutting through the silence.
I sigh. “Why do you keep bringing me blood to drink?”
Ivorie stops pouring water onto my hair and silence fills the air between us again. “Because that is what your kind must drink, my lady,” she says simply.
“And what is my kind?” I say in almost a whisper, too scared to hear the answer come out of her mouth.
“Vampire.”