Chapter 6 - Anson
6
ANSON
I hear the door open and close, and don’t react, my eyes fixed unseeing on the ceiling as I lie in bed. A moment later, Ameera appears in my peripheral vision at the foot of the bed. Good. Her earlier glamour is wearing off, and the emotionless oblivion I crave won’t last much longer. Without it, I’ll only devolve into a nightmare of overwhelming emotions and excruciating sensations that leave me in a useless screaming huddle on the floor all over again.
“Get up and get dressed,” she says, her voice brusque. “Your father is here.”
That gets my attention. “What?” I say as I jerk upright, my emotions already swirling out of control as the blankets seem to scrape their way down my chest.
She motions toward the closed door. “He’s just outside,” she says. “He showed up demanding to see you, then took down your ward and passed out afterwards. He hasn’t woken up yet.”
“What?” I repeat as panic erupts in my mind.
And with it, all my other emotions arise in a rush to threaten my sanity, like they always do now. I clench my eyes shut and grip my head in my hands, already rocking back and forth beneath the onslaught. Fuck me. I want the oblivion of Ameera’s glamour more than anything at this moment.
“This is why you must learn control,” Ameera says in a sharp no-nonsense tone. “Until then, you’ll be useless to the people who need you. Including your unconscious father.”
I shake my head, my eyes still screwed shut, my mind feeling as if it’s splintering apart. “Please… make it stop.”
“No,” comes her immediate reply. “I’m done coddling you. I’m done letting you use me to avoid accepting what you are now. You are a vampire, Anson Hale, and unless you want to greet the sun one final time, you will accept that and learn what it means to be one.” The blankets pooled in my lap get yanked away, the sensation almost painful as the fabric moves over my bare legs. “Now get up and get dressed. Your father needs you.”
“Can’t.”
“Bollocks,” Ameera says without an ounce of sympathy. “The Anson Hale I know is a force to be reckoned with, not a bloody fucking coward. He isn’t a man to hide away when things get difficult. He faces it head on.”
“H… how?” I whisper. I know she’s right, but the riot of emotions and sensations overwhelming me feels impossible to surmount. They make her suggestion of walking out into the sun to end everything seem like a tempting option.
Her fingers glide through my hair, her touch oh so gentle as her weight settles on the mattress next to me. “Let me guide you, and it will happen,” she says, her voice soft and soothing now. “You’ll feel like yourself again. I promise.”
I doubt that will happen, not with my magic gone, but anything is preferable to this waking nightmare I’m trapped in.
“Are you familiar with the human psychological concept of compartmentalization?” she asks.
I nod. I’ve heard of it, thanks to my sister’s multiple failed attempts at therapy over the years. It’s the act of mentally separating your emotions to avoid the anxiety of them all clashing against one another. It’s frowned upon for humans, but I guess that doesn’t apply to me anymore. It’s sounds like such as simple solution, but something tells me it won’t be that easy.
“It’s a similar concept to what my sire taught me to overcome the barrage of emotions that come with being a vampire and still retain a measure of my humanity. It takes hard work and practice.” She caresses my cheek with her fingertips. “But lucky for you, I can use my glamour to guide you through the process and hasten things along.”
“Please,” I mutter, shivering at her slight touch that feels like too much and not enough at the same time.
I open my eyes and meet her tender gaze. But the wave of affection that comes over me in response is short-lived as anger and resentment rush in to take its place. Without thinking, I jerk my face away from her fingers and try not to notice her hurt expression as I avert my eyes from hers.
She lets out a deep sigh. “This won’t work if you can’t even bring yourself to look at me.”
I stare down at my hands in my lap, hands that once wielded magic with a deft skill I’ll never experience again. The anger and resentment rises once more, and my emotions threaten to overtake me, reminding me I’ll never get a handle on them by myself. I need Ameera’s help, no matter how much I don’t want it.
“I can make you do it, but I prefer not to,” she says, her voice harder now. “If you don’t want this for yourself, then it won’t work.”
I know she’s right, and unless I want to continue to be confined to this room for the foreseeable future, I have to do this. I lift my head and meet her gaze, clenching my jaw against the rage looking at her brings on. I can do this, damn it, and then I can get away from her once I can function again. Maybe I can even get a semblance of my old life back, if my father and sister can accept me for what I am now. I’m probably deluding myself into thinking my family could ever be okay with me being a vampire, but I need some kind of hope to hold on to or what’s the point of even trying.
The warmth of her glamour falls over me, soothing the emotions battering my psyche. But instead of the oblivion she’s sent me into the other times after she shielded me from the chaos raging through my mind, I’m left lucid and aware for the first time in days. It’s fucking glorious to not feel anything, yet still be able to think clearly.
“This is what you must do for yourself,” she says. “I’ll do it again slowly so you can see how it’s done.” She releases the shield and then brings it up again, this time slowly, so I can see how it’s done. “Now you try it.”
I nod and do as she says, my years of mental discipline as a mage making it easier. It’s similar enough to conjuring a magical shield that I’m able to do it the first time.
“Very good,” she says. “Now pay attention.” Then she eases the shield open just enough for some of my emotions to funnel through.
The first thing I feel is anger and I shy away from it, afraid it will lead to being overwhelmed again.
“Don’t avoid it,” she says. “That’s how you got into trouble in the first place.” She takes my hand and I grasp onto it for dear life. “Let it be. It’s just an emotion. It can’t hurt you.”
Yeah, right. I shrink away from the anger, and the fear that has slipped through along with it now, and the instant I do, more follow and overrun my mind.
“No.” She fortifies my slipping shield, shutting out my emotions again. “Try again.”
Once more, she allows the anger through, and this time I try my best not to shy away from it. And she’s right. By itself, the emotion isn’t so overpowering and though it’s still more than I ever experienced as a human, I can actually think past it. It’s a fucking relief.
“That’s it,” she says with a triumphant smile that lights up her beautiful face. “Now try another emotion.”
I push the anger back down and reach for another emotion, and this time it’s my love for Ameera that’s hovering at the edge of my shield. It worms its way out and a wave of affection for her sweeps through me. I grip her hand and return her smile.
Her eyes soften with obvious affection. “Once more, zem?r.”
This time is easier and when I reach for another emotion, the one I find is the bitter resentment I harbor for her and my face hardens in response, my hand going lax in hers. Her smile falters as hurt ghosts across her face before her expression goes blank.
“Give it time and practice, and it will become second nature,” she says in a quavering voice that gives away how much I’ve hurt her again.
I nod and push the animosity back down and find the fear rearing up inside me. “What about the bloodlust?” I say. “I don’t want to hurt my father or anyone else.”
She nods. “That will take more work and practice than we have time for right now,” she says, then pats my hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you hurt your father. I can keep you under control until you learn to do so yourself.”
Great. It looks like I’m trapped here even longer, but if that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.
Ameera rises from the bed, goes over to a nearby dresser, and picks up a pile of clothing. She returns and sets them on the mattress next to me. They’re mine, a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, washed and neatly folded. I pick up the shirt, the normally soft cotton feeling rough on my fingertips. I grit my teeth and pull it on over my head, hissing at how it chafes at my skin. This must be why Ameera wears silk so often. I swing my legs off the bed and pull the jeans on next, the denim feeling even more irritating than the shirt, especially to my dick. I think I might need to rethink my entire wardrobe, or at least get some silk boxer shorts.
I stand, and she hands me a wineglass full of blood. “Here,” she says. “Drink this to take the edge off.”
Just the sight of it sends my bloodlust into overdrive, and I snatch it from her fingers before she can even finish her sentence, my fangs extending and my vision sharpening. I chug it down as fast as I can, shoving the self-loathing that arises at what I’m doing back behind my mental shield. Without it, I can focus on how good it tastes, how newfound energy almost seems to buzz beneath my skin with each swallow of coppery goodness. Fuck me. Nothing has ever tasted so fucking delicious to me. I’m panting and riding one hell of a high after draining the glass and shoot her a hopeful glance.
“That’s enough for now,” she says with an indulgent smile. “Your father needs you.”
Right. The whole reason for the quick lesson in control and the blood, so I can check on my dad. I should be more bothered that it doesn’t feel like much of a priority to me at the moment. I guess that’s the price of the mental shield containing my emotions. I nod and she leads me over to the door, then uses the palm scanner to unlock it. I follow her out into the first moment of freedom I’ve had since being turned.
Instead of searching out my father, I glance at the stairwell across the room first. I could dart past Ameera and make an escape attempt, but I wouldn’t get far before she commanded me to stop since I can’t resist her power over me as my sire. Samuel steps into my line of sight, blocking the exit with a knowing look on his face that says he knows exactly what I’m up to. I’d also have to get past him to escape, and given his larger size and military training, I’d fail miserably. I need to bide my time until I’m alone and out of earshot of Ameera before I try to get out of here. So I turn my attention toward the sitting area and the familiar man lying on one of the leather sofas.
I move forward, and Ameera is a close shadow beside me as I approach my father. I stop a few feet away and register the steady beat of his heart and even breathing, which is a good sign that he’s okay. I study his face, noting the pale cast of his complexion. I’m pretty certain he’s only out cold because he overextended his magical powers when he brought down the ward around the house. But there’s only one way to be sure. I reach out to touch his arm so I can read his aura, but find… nothing. Why? Because I’m a fucking vampire now and have no magical abilities anymore. I can’t even manage the simple act of reading someone’s aura, one of the first things I learned how to do when I came into my powers. Fuck me, even that elementary ability is gone now. My mental shield falters at that realization and a wave of despair worms its way past it to hammer my fragile control. I can sense my other emotions waiting in the wings to pounce on me in its wake and send me over the edge again.
“Easy, zem?r,” Ameera says as she touches my forearm. “Focus on your shield and one emotion at a time.”
I want to yank my arm out of her grip because all of this is her fault. I wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for her actions. But I need her help if I’m ever to function on my own. Then I can get the fuck away from her. The sudden rush of anger that comes over me is the emotion I decide to focus on and the despair fades back behind the shield, leaving me able to think clearly again. I kneel on the floor next to the sofa, thankfully pulling my arm from her grip.
“Dad?” I say as I jostle my father’s shoulder.
I don’t know my own strength yet and end up shaking him so hard that he startles awake, flailing his hands in the air as he jerks upright and his eyes snapping wide open. His gaze locks on mine and a smile replaces his panicked expression.
“Anson?” he says, then reaches out toward my face.
The moment he does, I become very much aware of the blood pulsing beneath the surface of his skin on the inside of his wrist. Bloodlust sweeps over me then, wiping out any semblance of control I had. I snatch up his wrist and open my mouth, my fangs already extending to pierce his flesh and drink my fill.
Ameera fists the hair at the back of my head in a painful grip, stopping me mere inches from biting my father. “You will not feed from this man,” she says, her voice hard and her command undeniable.
I release my father’s wrist and he jerks it away with a horrified expression as he flings himself to the other end of the sofa to get away from me. His escape attempt only inflames my desire for blood and without a conscious thought, I capture his gaze with my glamour. Come closer. I feel his mind bend to my will and he moves back toward me, his movement wooden and his expression blank.
Ameera wrenches my head back until it breaks the eye contact I have with my dad and I’m staring at the ceiling. “You will not glamour him either,” she snarls in my ear. “Do you understand?”
I glare up at her, not sure who I hate more in this moment, her or myself. “Yes,” I say with a growl, unable to deny answering her question.
“What have you done?” my father asks, his voice riddled with disdain, and I give Ameera an accusing glare at his question.
She ignores me and looks in Dad’s direction. “This was not his doing,” she says and I realize he was asking me that question, that his scorn was directed at me. “Vanessa Durant murdered him, and I did what I had to do to save him.”
“Save him?” Dad asks. “For this?” He makes a disgusted noise. “You stole his magic and turned him into a monster just like you. You might as well have let him die. The result would’ve been the same.”
His voice breaks with emotion on that last sentence and I know what I feared most has happened. I’m dead to him now. It’s official then. I’ve lost everything. I’m left reeling from the realization and can’t even react. I just stare at Ameera in shock.
“If that’s truly what you think, then get out,” Ameera says, her grip in my hair gentling despite her angry words. “He doesn’t need you here poisoning his mind.”
“Poisoning his mind?” Dad asks, his voice incredulous. “You’re the one who turned him into this… this abomination. For all I know, you killed him yourself to do it. And now? Now I’ve lost my son.”
Ameera scowls and releases her hold on my scalp, her eyes blazing black with rage. I look at my father then and wish I hadn’t. He’s looking at me with absolute revulsion in his eyes, a look I never thought I’d see directed at me, and it breaks something inside me.
“Get out now,” she says, her tone lethal and more terrifying than I’ve heard from her before.
“Gladly,” my father replies as he shoots the same revolted expression at Ameera and, without even glancing at me again, he whirls and stalks toward the stairs.
Samuel follows him with an expression as angry as his sire’s. He pauses at the bottom of the stairs just after my father disappears from view and gives me a look of sympathy that I want no part of, anymore than I want the despair and self-loathing leaking past my splintering shield to threaten my sanity. I slump onto the floor from my kneeling position and curl into a ball, as if it can somehow protect me from what’s inside my own head. My shield fails completely and I’m a sobbing mess in the next instant.
Ameera strokes my arm and I can’t muster the will to jerk away from it this time. “I’m so sorry, zem?r,” she murmurs. “Give him some time and perspective. He’ll come to his senses and realize what he still has.”
I’d snort out a bitter laugh if I was able because she has no idea what’s she’s talking about. If she thought I had a problem with vampires, then she’s seen nothing yet. After my sister’s attack, my father, who was head of the Unity Mage Council then, almost started an all out war with the vampire brood. The only reason it didn’t happen was because I talked him out of it and suggested a different solution: hiring an assassin to kill the rogue vampires responsible. And even then, it took a hell of a lot of convincing. It’s clear to me he’ll never see me as his son again. At that thought, a low keening noise spills from my mouth as utter sorrow crushes down on me. I’m just about to start screaming again when Ameera commands me to look at her.
I do, beyond caring where my deliverance from this endless cycle of suffering comes from. I meet her eyes and welcome her glamour with eager desperation. Emotionless oblivion follows in its wake, and just before I succumb to its embrace, I have one last lucid thought. When I finally learn to control my vampire emotions and bloodlust, I’ll escape this house and, when the next sunrise comes after that, I’ll be outside to greet it one last time with open arms.