Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
D orian arrived home three days later. Her battle against moving in now my victory. Her father, Donovan, had moved into the cottage for the time being until he left for London again in two weeks. Victor didn’t need much persuading to leave me alone with my thoughts. He was more than willing to get out of the manor for the day. Mary’s wide eyed stare followed his every move lately. Always tracking. Always watching. The cold had begun to seep through the halls, each day worse than the last. I woke that morning to an array of noise. The halls clattered with voices and footfalls.
I rose from the curled up blankets around me. Having slept in the library after a night of studying ghosts and other entities. A groan released from my chest. The vase I had shattered in my frustration lying in pieces on the floor. As if a brutal representation of my mind. Nothing I had researched about ghosts and spirits brought any answers, only more questions. I had bandaged my hand in a shred of cloth torn from my dress last night. The porcelain had sliced a deep wound in my palm. No colour made itself known. I hated to admit a small part of me longed for it to show again. More voices clattered through the hall beyond my sanctuary.
What possibly could have happened now?
The footfalls drew closer. A set I knew better than my own. Light but always quick.
The door flew open with a flurry of motion. Dorian bustled in with purpose as if she owned the room. Her light dress swished as she walked in.
“Why am I never alerted to these attacks by you!” She exclaimed, her arms thrown wide.
“Dorian! You’re back!” My heart raced. A smile growing on my face. I stood to face her. My book fell to the floor with a thud.
“Against my will. Father is staying with the cottage. Thought I could use some air today though. I’ll be here to stay soon enough. A prisoner to this fucking hell.” She scrunched her face as if the thought soured her. I breathed out a laugh. Dorian’s hair was only half in a braid. Knotted just as much as I presumed mine was. Minus the leaves and twigs. Dorian smirked as she made her way to the lounge.
“Show me your scars.” Her eyes lit up like a child.
“You morbid woman,” I chuckled, nodding toward the door “Go close that.”
Dorian hurried to the door slamming it shut before scurrying back to me.
I pulled down the neck of my dress. The pale pinched skin of the X on full display.
Dorian’s eyes grew wide. Entranced by the mark. Unintelligible words fell from her lips in a hushed whisper. Her fingers rising to the scar tentatively. Neither of us dared to breathe. Dorian’s soft fingertips drifted over the cold risen skin.
“Something isn’t right, Vessie,” She muttered. Her eyes never leaving the scar. Their colour darkened the longer she stared.
“I know.” I admitted.
“You shouldn’t be alive. This mark…” She trailed off. I urged her with a squeeze of my hand on her free one.
“The mark reeks of death. Yet you’re alive.” Silver lined her eyes. “You shouldn’t be alive.”
“I know,” I said once more.
“I watched you die, Vespera. You died. I saw the whole thing. It was fate. But something changed. Someone tore the thread. The dark one will come again.” Her voice cracked as she began to sob. Her arms wrapped tightly around me, pulling me to her with a tug. Embracing me in a tight hug.
“Whilst I am most glad you are alive. You shouldn’t be.”
I remained silent. Burying my head in my best friend's hair. She was right. I should have died that night. She pulled back from me searching my face. Pleading with her eyes.
“You need to find what tainted you, Vespera. Before that darkness swallows you whole.” Her eyes caught back on the mark. Clouding over before she stood back. Glancing from the door to where I sat.
I lay back on the couch, considering her cryptic words. It was true. I did need to find who did this but how. I needed to trigger more of those strange visions. But how? This was all a mess. Much like that prized vase grandmother will throw a fit over.
“The book you gave me.” Dorian swallowed thickly. Her breath came in shallow.
“Yes?”
“It was blank,” She sighed as she sat on my lap, moving so I was more comfortable with her weight. I watched as she pulled the book from her skirt pocket.
She tossed it to me, I opened it cautiously, waiting to see what lay between the pages.
“The energy that book radiates is as dark as your mark but I can’t read it. Whatever is in there is yours and yours alone to read.”
I cursed lightly before dropping back on the cushions.
“I need to prepare for my return here. God, this place gives me the creeps.” She shuddered before rushing to the door.
I dressed not long after she had left. Victor had run off to follow Dorian before I could see him. I was grateful though, I was in the mood for no one after that entire exhausting interaction.
What darkness could possibly have tainted me more than the manor? Did Dorian see the colour I had glimpsed in her in one of her visions? Surely not. She would have noted it. She would have surely shared that. Most definitely with a grin on her beautiful face.
Maaier’s voice called from beyond the door before he shoved it open. My heart leapt into my throat. The memory of our small touches came rushing back over my skin.
The smirk on his face confirmed he recalled it too. My cheeks heated as he approached where I sat on the couch, fastening my hair into a knot at the nape of my neck.
“You should come down and eat,” He said, stopping behind me. His face was cut off from the reflection of the glass windows before us. I watched as his hand gripped my shoulders. My breathing grew short as his thumb drifted toward my throat.
“Why don’t you bring my lunch into here?” I said, trying my hardest not to focus on his touch.
He laughed softly. “It’s almost dinner. You slept half the day in here.”
I looked at the window before me. Surely he was mistaken. But he wasn’t. The sun was already setting in the tree line.
“Oh.” The word fell from my lips. Another day wasted in this useless existence and I was no closer to anything.
Maaier lowered his hand giving my shoulders a light squeeze. My eyes drifted closed at the motion. Only to fly open as Maaier’s lips brushed my forehead.
“I’ll bring your dinner up. You look as if you still need rest, little bloom.”
My heart thumped in my chest. Why did he kiss my head again? The interaction was more gentle than the first instance, as if he was truly restraining himself from me.
I turned back toward him, watching as he strode out of the room.
A smile crept across my face. My whole body is growing tingly. I looked down at my hands in my lap. The bandage coming loose. I pulled at the knot. Loosening it, my stomach dropped.
The wound had healed. The thick scabbing wasn’t grey. It was red. I blinked again. Raising my hands to my face for closer inspection, admiring the colour, more with surprise than horror.
Maaier returned in the doorway. Frozen as he watched what I could only assume was a mystified expression flicker over my face. The colour now slowly fading back to grey.
He cocked a brow but said nothing, moving past me to sit on the couch.
I remained seated beside him, waiting for him to pass me the stew. He didn’t though. Instead demanding to allow him to feed me. I scowled before relenting to the command. I needed to focus on my hands. Why had the colour faded? Why was it only there for a brief moment again? God, I wished I could ask Grandmother about this without being interrogated or locked away.
Maaier watched intently as I wrapped my lips over the spoon. His posture straightened as my eyes met his, briefly before he moved back to my lips.
Each and every time he fed me, his eyes never left my mouth. Heat rose through my body. Who knew being fed by your personal guard could be so exhilarating? Warmth pooled in my belly. His tongue darted out over his lips. And by God, I needed to feel it against mine.
“I must go. Urgent matters to attend to.” He choked out before hurrying out of the bedroom. Leaving me alone with half a bowl of stew.
Shrugging a shoulder, I continued my meal. Wondering if I'd got under his skin just as much as he was mine.