Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A s Dorian bathed, I pulled a dress from my wardrobe. Mary silently pushed into the room.
I held the silken dress out before me. The fabric was so light and gentle, like water in my hands.
“That isn’t your usual style.” Mary chuckled. Coming up beside me.
“No it isn’t.” I tilted my head before facing her, holding the garment out. “What colour would you call this?”
Mary looked taken aback by my question but answered anyway “Pink. A soft pink.”
“Pink.” I repeated. Letting the word roll over my tongue as I looked down at the light grey fabric. “Pink,” I said once more. Willing the shade to memory. I placed the dress on Dorian’s bed and moved back to the wardrobe.
“What about this?” I asked as I pulled my usual dress I favoured out with the high collar.
“Black,” Mary said. Her confusion was still evident but I couldn't bring myself to tell her I couldn’t see colour.
“And this?” I pointed to a darker gown that glimmered in the pale afternoon light.
“Blue. Like a very deep royal blue. Almost like an ocean.” Mary smiled and stepped forward. Seeming to finally understand why I was asking. I silently thanked the world. “That colour is always very stunning on you.”
“Is it now?” My lip quirked. “Then blue it is.” I wondered how the colour would look. If it were a pretty colour or if it were downright foul. I trusted Mary however. Letting her guide me through a world I couldn't see. The thought of an ocean, a distant dream. I wondered how it would look. If it were truly as beautiful as Grandmother had said.
Dressed in the deep blue dress, I swirled my hair back and clipped it with an ornate pin. A metal rose glinting back amongst the dark waves.
Arm in arm with Dorian, who had been quiet ever since her bath, we entered the dining room. Each member of the manor sat watching as we approached. I took my seat beside Grandmother and Dorian beside me. The seat in front of me left empty with Victor to the right and Arthur down the end. The only person missing was Maaier. Although I wasn't overly sure I wanted him near right now. Emotions were still running rampant within me from earlier. For all I know I would put my hand in his during dinner. God, I was in over my head. I lifted my wine glass. The deep liquid swirling in the crystal.
The smile on my face lifted as I noticed Victor staring at Dorian. His cheeks flushed as he narrowed his gaze at her. She looked so beautiful in her gown. Her wild hair smoothed to match mine with the same style. She glared at him. Her stare was almost venomous. But Victor said nothing, instead choosing to sigh and begin a conversation with Arthur.
“That is a lovely shade.” Grandmother piped up, her hand ran along the sleeve of my dress.
“Mary said blue suits me,” I said with a smile.
Grandmother leant back as if slapped. Recoiling in shock at my words.
“No, no. I can only see grey.” I assured her.
Her hand landed on her heaving chest. Willing it to slow.
“Good God, child. You’ll give me a heart attack one of these days.” She rolled her eyes. Blinking the notion away.
I chucked to myself, sipping on my dark wine.
“It is interesting you asked for a colour though,” Dorian whispered. Victor’s gaze flicked back to Dorian as she spoke. His face was unreadable.
“I was curious was all.” I offered a nonchalant shrug as I placed my linen napkin in my lap.
“You have been rather curious as of late,” Grandmother said. Her voice stern but her expression light. Silly old woman. I rolled my eyes. Sighing through my nose.
“Maybe I am. I think I have lived in darkness too long and need to find my light.”
“And your killer.” Dorian offered over the rim of her glass.
“That too.” I tapped my fingers against the glass. “No further word?” I said, changing the subject.
“No.” Grandmother exhaled heavily. “But they did find another attack on a blonde woman in the square. She was stabbed in the abdomen. Though they aren’t sure if she will survive the night.”
“So each victim looks different from the last?”
“It seems that way. The police say the attacker’s targets could be random but they always seem to go for a slight woman with either dark or light hair.”
Dorian stilled. Her glass teetered on her bottom lip before lowering it back to the table.
“So I can go home?” She said softly.
“No. Donovan has requested you stay with us.” Grandmother pressed.
Dorian huffed through her nose. The air caused the candles in the centre of the table to flicker violently.
“The manor isn’t so bad,” Grandmother said. Keeping her chin tilted toward Dorian with pride.
“The ghosts are though,” Dorian sneered. Her gaze fell on me.
I remained silent and shook my head. Pretending to be more interested in the napkin covering my lap.
The staff came with a plate of food each. Each dinner consisted of three main courses and dessert. The first tonight was a simple soup. Chunks of assorted vegetables floated on the top of the murky liquid. My stomach churned. I hated peas. Yet here they were floating in my dinner. I withheld my scowl. Not wanting to be rude but still moving them away anyway. Disgusting little demons.
Dorian giggled beside me. Noting my disdain for the small bean. Little did she know that we were having lemon tart for dessert. A flavour she hated. I rolled my lips into my mouth to suppress a smile. Lifting the spoon of soup to my mouth, my heart stopped.
“I apologise for my tardiness. I had some matters to attend to.” Maaier stood in the doorway. His coat was an almost identical shade to my dress. I froze. Watching as he approached to sit before me.
Dorian’s attention fully transfixed on Arthur and Victor’s conversion of how medicines seem to be depleting from pharmacies. Grandmother sat whispering in the ear of a server. No doubt demanding a soup for Maaier who looked like he would prefer to be anywhere else but here. His dark gaze flicked over me. Lingering on my partially exposed chest and the scar peaking through. A slight tilt of his lips was the only indication of mood. I stifled a sigh with my wine and turned to Dorian who was still solely focused on Victor. Listening and absorbing like a rag in a puddle.
The servers returned to clear our bowls and place a new plate of more vegetables and duck on the plate. My stomach roiled. I couldn’t stand duck either. I shuddered at the thought of it. And here it was on my plate. A gag rose in my throat. At least it was better than peas I supposed.
Maaier shifted in his seat, watching with amusement at my disgust.
Dorian finally twisted beside me. A hiss between her teeth louder than a gunshot. Her hands clenched on the dark wood of the table. Clawing her manicured fingers into the varnish. I whispered her name but her lethal gaze was aimed directly on Maaier. Her eyes were dark and wide like a beast about to hunt their prey.
“You,” She hissed, her shoulders rolling back. She stood abruptly as if spotting Maaier for the first time since arriving. Her chair fell back to the floor with a loud thud. I took her hand, trying to pull her back down as a server fixed her chair once more.
“You are the cause of this. The root of our end.” Her words like lead fell on the table. No one made a sound apart from Dorian’s ragged breathing. Her chest rising and falling. Her nails still cracked and dug into the wood.
Quick as a flash of lightning, she swept up her dinner knife. Holding it before her. “The root of our end.” She repeated in a hiss through gritted teeth.
“Dorian.” I pleaded. But it was too late. She had leapt onto the table. The candle between Maaier and I knocked over. Hot wax flying through the tense air. Dorian’s rage was palpable between the air. The wax stung as it hit my chest. Burning into the flesh of my scar and above. Splattering like blood over my exposed skin. I shriek at the impact. The skin sizzled as it hit. Dorian paid it no mind. Her body collided with Maaier who had risen to catch her. She pulled them both to the ground. Her fists beating into any part of him she could. Bloodlust in her screams and she called for his end. He didn’t fight back. Instead letting her punish him for a crime he was yet to commit.
Victor stood first, I followed. Rushing around the table to pull my maddened friend from the strange man who made my heart ache.
Victor’s hands wrapped around her waist. Pulling her back with a strong tug. His face twisting with the exertion. Dorian screeched like a banshee as she lost contact. Blood dribbled from Maaier’s lips but he remained still, not uttering a single word. His gaze focused only on Dorian. I bent beside him. Kneeling on the ground as I took count of the scratches maring his neck and chest. His shirt now torn open and bloody. The knife was lost in the attack.
I cursed. Looking at the welts on his face.
“Don’t touch him, Vespera. His touch kills. He will kill you. He is our end!” Dorian shrieked over and over again. My hands shook slightly as I lifted it to Maaier. The palm of my hand met his cheek softly as I swept the hair from his forehead. A sharp pain flashed in his eyes. What was happening? I looked down at him. Noting the grey skin still showing. Nothing I hadn’t witnessed before, but the wound had my blood turning to ice. My heart galloped into my throat. His voice was raw as he said my name. I couldn’t focus on anything anyone was saying. Their words but a buzz in my ear.
The wound shone through the bleak expanse of my vision. A red so pure it took my breath away. I gasped in horror.
It was him. It was Maaier I was drawn too. Maaier was the source of my colour. Could it be true? Surely not. Not him. Love was supposed to blind you to all the darkness in the world. It was supposed to bring you light and make you whole. It wasn't supposed to torment you and make you question things. It was meant to help a person become whole no matter how broken they were. Even a person loving themselves could very well do the same. But it was love that evaded me. I was always broken. Maaier couldn’t be the one to fix me. He simply couldn’t.
My heart threatened to come out of my throat. His voice low as he said my name again. The only voice strong enough to break through. I couldn't let him know. But something in his concerned gaze told me he already knew too. That this wasn’t an accident. That fate had finally intervened.
His gloved hand reached up to cup mine. Gently removing it from him. I swallowed my heart before opening my mouth only to close it.
Grandmother’s voice shone through my haze of fear. “Get the girls to bed. Victor, attend to Maaier.”
Victor hesitated beside Dorian. Not wanting to go near him after her warning.
“I am fine, Sophia.” Maaier sat up. Pushing away from me and avoiding my gaze with his back to me. “I will retire for the night.” Rejection rolled over me.
Words fell back from my tongue. There was nothing else to say. I needed to find out more. To learn more about him. To find out why I only saw red when I was with him. Maybe he wasn't the one after all.
Dorian fell into bed as we arrived in my room. Neither of us spoke about her outburst.
It was obvious Maaier was the cause of our situation but how? He should have killed us both by now if he was the attacker. Not letting us roam free. As if it were some sick twisted game to him. Maybe that was why he kept us alive.
The sound of Dorian’s gentle snores sounded lightly. Moonlight shone through the open blinds.
Striking a match, I lit my oil lantern beside the bed and pulled the one thing to distract me free. The magical book with faded pages.
The words bled onto the empty page like ink to water. Blossoming like a young flower in spring. Slowly unfurling for all to admire.
“Death doesn’t know his destiny. Not yet anyway. He only knew his mother and the love they shared. Everyday the same warm bliss emitted from the pair, days of dancing in flowers and fighting with wooden swords. He would watch his mother with fond love. She taught him how to love kindly and to be loved in return. It was a blissful yet captivating upbringing. She had shielded the boy from all the rot in the world. Waiting until he was asleep to invite strange men into the alley beside the house and sell her body as wares. Her beauty always fetched a price. Men would flock to her. Hoping to be chosen as her flavour for the night. Until the moon went behind the clouds that fateful night. Her son, only sixteen in his bed inside the small home. Sleeping away his day of work at a bakery. Dreaming of a young daughter of a lord. Her hair dark as ink. Always dotted in flower petals. The dream of her always the same. The same words dropped from her mouth. A declaration of love. The sweetest purest kind of love there was. Young love. A love the boy could only hope for. The woman in the dream faded as his mother screamed. The boy shot up and immediately was out the door. Finding his mother’s bed cold and empty. He hurried to the door to outside. The scent of metal heavy in the air. His mother was laying in the street outside. The woman who taught him the sweetest gift the world had to offer now taught him the most valuable lesson. Love could kill you just as much as it could heal you. The boy’s torn scream ripped through the night air. His soul tearing to shreds. Tears dripped from his face onto the body of his mother, cooling in the night air. Blood streaming from her throat into the cobblestones below. The crimson mixed with the dirt and grime. People watched from their windows but no one approached. They feared for the boy. And what he would do. For the entirety of the town knew the love they had shared. The love in the boy’s soul, now consumed by fire. A vengeance that would never be put out. An inferno that burned brighter than the town had ever seen and would burn them all down to the ground. Every last one until his blade was buried in the neck of he who took his mother from him.”
My eyes pooled with stinging heat as I read the words. The poor soul. The image of the boy holding his mother so close to his chest. Her arm dangling limply by her side as he cradled her head to his chest. The detail in his face showed the heartbroken and shattered expression on his face. More ink flooded the next page. Urging me to read on.
“The young man now full with vengeance hunted through the night. His soul darkened as he tore through men. Asking anyone for information on the attacker for a slice of fresh bread. He was good with his hands. A skill many men lacked. A gentleness that came in handy as he sliced through the flesh of his suspects. Although, now blood coated his hands rather than the icing of a cake. The man grew each year into a man without love. His young love, lost. Although unknown to him, she waited for him. In a dark room of her family's manor near the woods. She would wait by the window, gazing down to the garden where he would wait for her night after night. As he was as sneaky as his mother. He would prowl like a fox through the roses as she waited. Eager to see him and run into the woods together to share a gentle kiss. Her name is one of darkness. Her name, a caress to his broken soul but he would never return to her. He couldn’t bring himself back to her. The only tell of his remaining humanity. But she waited. Praying to every god of his return. But he never did. Night after night she waited. Until she could wait no more. She longed for a life filled with children and love. A love that she had watched form the shadows that her lover and his mother had shared. The love of a mother loving her child more than anything in the world. A love that would cause her to burn the world for him and he in return.
The woman watched that final night before finding a new love. A man just like her sweet soul. An artist who would paint her each shade he could find. Her skin littered with his paintings of flowers. Each shade a vibrant masterpiece on her pale flesh. The love within her growing as vibrant as the paint for her artist lover.”
The sketch appeared on the next page. A woman drawn so beautifully came to life on the page. Her skin, decorated in all types of blooms. Roses, lavender, iris and peonies dotted her chest. Wildflowers wrapped around her stomach. Her bare body was covered in art. Each bloom detailed with talent. Whoever this woman was, she was blessed with the love of the artist.
I settled back on the bed holding the book close as the words faded. Enough tragedy told for the night. The memory of Dorian’s words echoing in my mind. He will be our end.
Was Maaier the attacker from the story or was he the boy who lost his mother? Surely he was the attacker. Maaier never radiated the essence of a man to love. Only a man to hold power. Or so I had thought. The concern in his eyes surfaced to my memory. I huffed out a sigh before falling back on the pillows.
The moonlight, my only comfort amongst my twisted thoughts. It was too early to sleep.