Chapter Twenty
Soph slept like the dead. When she woke, it was dark save for the glow of the lounge room light filtering under the bedroom door. She could hear the low notes of men talking. Her head pounded furiously, and she was freezing. She contemplated getting up to see what they were doing, but instead she pulled the doona tighter and closed her eyes.
Her next bout of sleep was plagued with nightmares of Alec the Vampire King. He’d taken hold of her, forced her into his house and onto a Victorian style lounge. All of his vampire cronies crowded into the room to watch. Eli was there too, in the doorway with a frown on his face. She screamed for his help, but he didn’t move.
She fell in and out of consciousness, unsure where her dreams ended and the actual world came back to her. Blankets tangled around her legs and she couldn’t get free of them. She thought she saw the sun. It made her headache wail, and she cried. And through it all, she was cold. So fucking freezing that it didn’t seem like any amount of blankets warmed her.
She came to with a start; halfway out of bed with the sheets wound tightly around one of her legs. Wrenching it free, she staggered to the door. She pulled it open and went to the kitchen, turned the tap on and stuck her mouth under the faucet, guzzling the water.
“Soph?” Eli appeared behind her. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head, sliding down the kitchen cabinet to sit on the floor. “I’m dying.”
Eli moved towards her and turned the tap off. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”
“Blood,” she gasped. “I need blood.”
There was a heartbeat of stillness, then in a flash, Eli retreated, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen. She hadn’t even considered taking his blood, but now that the idea was in her head, pushed deeper by the razors stabbing her brain, she couldn’t think of anything else.
Her gaze dipped from his wary expression down to his neck, where she could all but see the pulse of hot, sweet liquid pumping through his veins.
“Please,” she begged, hands flexing into fists as she lurched to her feet. Her head cleared a little at the prospect of sating her hunger. “Just a little. I’ll give you anything. I’ll do anything.”
Eli shook his head and retreated to the lounge room. Blinding anger at his refusal surged through her, propelling her after him. As she reached the door of the kitchens, she drew energy from the Ethereal in preparation to attack. She needed vampire blood. She would die without it. Why couldn’t Eli see that?
She slammed her hands up as she saw Eli crossing the room to the dining table. Her energy spell hit him in the back and flung him to his knees. She growled, stalking forward.
“Stop.” Cole stood up from the dining table where he’d been writing on a notepad. Soph glared at him. She didn’t care who this guy was, though it gave her pause to watch Eli stagger back to his feet and stop behind his companion, as if the other man could protect him. Soph drew more energy and released it in Cole’s direction. Nothing happened.
Her anger dissipated, and she stared in disbelief. Energy spells could affect anyone, not just the supernatural. Why hadn’t Cole gone down? Eli was standing behind him, watching wearily. He at least should have been affected by the second spell.
“What are you?” Soph asked. Cole smiled grimly.
“Just a man, Miss. I think it best that you return to bed for the time being, until you feel well enough to join us for a meal.”
Feeling like a dismissed child, Soph backed away towards her room. Anger and thirst for Eli’s blood gone, her headache clouded back in again. It hurt so much and she turned away from the two men before they could see the tears spill from her eyes and down her cheeks. She closed the bedroom door and wrapped her arms about herself, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. A sob tore from her throat and she let her head drop to her knees. She just wanted it all to stop.
A chill rippled under her skin, followed by scorching heat. Knives punctured her skull as punishment for not finding the sustenance her body needed. Panic tightened in a noose around her neck. With a strangled noise that was half sob, half growl, she crawled back to the door and reached for the knob, only to find it stuck. Her bedroom door didn’t have a lock.
Which meant someone was holding it from the other side.
“Eli?” She sobbed, pressing a palm to the door. “Please. I need blood. Just a little.”
No answer.
“PLEASE!” She slammed a fist against the door. “Please! I’m dying! You’re killing me!”
“I’m sorry, Soph,” the muffled response through the door was stricken. “I’m so sorry.”
“Please, Eli!” She pounded on the door with both fists, pounded until they were bloodied and the door was splattered in crimson. “Help me, help me, help me!”
Desperation drove her, filled her entire being. Why would he do this to her? Blades sliced through her mind, making her vision swim. Her tongue was dry and her voice hoarse, but she screamed until she couldn’t anymore.
There had to be a way out. They couldn’t lock her up like this. I’m dying, I’m dying,I’m dying.
Help me.
Help me.
HELP ME!
She didn’t remember standing, but suddenly she was across the room, ripping at the blinds with a ragged cry before pounding her bloodied fists against the window.
“Soph, no!”
If she’d had any predator blood left in her, she might have been able to turn in time, but she didn’t and Eli caught her from behind, forcing her to the floor.
“HELP ME, HELP ME, HELP ME!”
Her vision swam black and red. Her tongue tasted of iron. Blood. Her blood. The wrong blood.
He pulled her up to her knees, pinning her arms to her side with his own across her torso. With his hand, he restrained her head against his chest so she couldn’t move.
“Help me,” she begged a final time before her pleas gave way to a guttural howl.
Eli’s head dropped to hers, but he didn’t let her go. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Cole filled the doorway, watching with an unreadable expression. The door was painted with scarlet smears.
Soph screamed and begged and raged until her voice gave out. Eli’s whispered mantra became her heartbeat and soon those words were all she could hear.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
* * *
Soph roused to voices that she was fairly certain weren’t part of her fevered dreams. She sat up in her bed, unsure of how she got there. The last thing she remembered was Eli restraining her, of blood smeared across the door. Panic and pain so consuming, she hadn’t been able to comprehend anything else.
Now she felt quite warm. Warmer than she had in a while and she pulled the jumper she was wearing over her head, noting as she did the white bandages wrapped over her knuckles. Her headache was still present, but no longer debilitating. On unsteady feet, she rose and opened the bedroom door to find Eli and Cole standing at the open balcony door, looking out over the city.
“There’s a storm coming,” Cole said. Eli simply nodded. Soph could feel a heaviness in the air, a stillness rife with an undercurrent of anticipation.
“Will it be bad?” Soph asked, and the two men turned to look at her. Eli seemed to tense a little at the sight of her, but Cole wasn’t worried by her presence.
“The bureaus providing the warnings seem to think so, Miss,” he told her.
“Can I watch?” She requested, realising the absurdity of asking to watch TV in her own home. She didn’t wait for either of them to respond and headed to the lounge. There she paused, noticing the room for the first time.
It was spotlessly clean, the tears in her couch repaired and the holes she’d punched in the walls patched up. There was even a new television without a cracked screen. The shame returned, hot and thick in her throat. She felt like a useless fucking druggy who couldn’t get her shit together - which was fucking true when she thought about it.
“Thank you,” she said as Eli appeared behind her. “For looking after everything. I will pay you back for all of this, I promise.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “You can if you want, but I don’t expect you to. I’d prefer to just see you get back on your feet. Besides,” he added as they sat down together on the lounge, “Cole did most of the work. He’s much better at organising this sort of thing than I am.” Before she could say anything further or insist that she would pay back whatever he’d spent to restore her apartment, he turned on the TV.
There was rolling coverage of the storm that was threatening the city. News presenters relayed evacuation details for low-lying houses due to the possibility of flooding. They showed coverage of supermarkets with bare shelves, of people piling sandbags outside shops and of apartment blocks with boarded-up windows.
“Should we leave?” Soph watched the first footage of the storm hitting nearby towns and roofs blowing off. It was probably too late. Where would they go?
“We’ll be fine here,” Eli assured her. She glanced towards Cole who still stood by the balcony door, his hands clasped behind his back. Did he have something to do with their safety? There was something different about him, something she couldn’t place. She looked back towards Eli to find him watching her, his grey eyes unreadable.
Blood, she thought suddenly. So hungry. But the urge to attack Eli was gone. She didn’t think she’d be able to muster the energy, anyway.
“How long has it been?”
“Almost five days.” He paused for a moment, assessing her. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded, and he looked relieved that she didn’t attack him again. He stood. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”
Soph continued to watch the storm coverage, at the same time hearing the wind pick up outside. Cole finally closed the door and moved to the dining table, where he sat down at a sleek black laptop and began typing. Eli returned with her sandwich. Starved, she bit into it. No sooner had she swallowed the first mouthful when she felt her body rejecting it. Shoving the plate off her lap, she ran to the bathroom and vomited.
“Perhaps a little longer before we try food,” she heard Cole say.
“But it’s been five days. And who knows how long before that she’s gone without eating,” Eli’s tone was worried.
“She’s still on her feet. I don’t think you need to be concerned about her starving to death quite yet.”
She rinsed out her mouth but remained in the bathroom, braced against the sink. The bleak realisation that she could die returned, but now she almost wished death would put her out of her misery.
A shiver rolled down her spine as she heard footsteps approach, and Eli filled the doorway. “Have a shower,” he suggested, brows knotted in concern. “It might make you feel better.”
It would at least make her feel less cold.
Eli returned to the lounge room, and she pulled off her shirt. It was a different band shirt, from a different ex, and she realised Eli must have changed her while she slept. Even with the fresh shirt, the pungent scent of dried sweat filled her nose, and she hurried to get into the shower, desperate to scrub the last of the withdrawals from her skin.
When she was finally clean, hair and teeth brushed, and dressed in another shirt that had been left by the door for her, she returned to the lounge room, embarrassment flooding her entire body as the two men appraised her from the dining table.
“I think I’ll go back to bed,” she mumbled.
When she reached her room, she found the bed made up with fresh sheets.
No, not just fresh sheets. New sheets, made from soft French linen.
She owed Eli so much, but had no idea how she’d ever repay him. Crawling into the bed, she pulled the blankets over her legs but didn’t sleep. Instead, she stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to the storm intensify outside.
On the bedside table, her phone flashed, showing that she had a message. She couldn’t muster the will to check it. When was the last time she’d been in contact with her family? She was sure she’d spoken to Luie about skipping their family dinner, but she had no idea how long ago that was.
The door opened, and Eli let himself into the room. Soph rolled onto her side, avoiding looking at him. “I don’t want your sympathy,” she said, somewhat harshly.
“Then I won’t give you any.” He lay down on the other side of the bed and, after a few moments, she rolled over to face him.
“Why did you steal the Founder’s powers?” He eyed her wearily, as if deciding that coming into the room had been a mistake.
“Please,” she begged. “Tell me anything to take my mind off wanting to die.”
“How much do you know about the Founders?” He conceded.
Soph thought back to what Nona had always told her. The old woman had never mentioned how many there were, and Soph had always assumed that there were two of them; a vampire founder and a witch founder. She now guessed that there were probably three vampire founders - one for each power - and two witch founders - one for black witches and another for light witches. She told Eli as much.
“There were actually six Founders,” he corrected. “The sixth was a gaian witch with natural powers.”
“So there’s gaian witches around too?” Soph asked with a frown. She really should have paid more attention to her magical ancestry rather than trying to shuck off every coven who wanted her.
“Not that I know of.” Eli looked towards the ceiling.
“So what do Adriana and the black witches want with you?”
Eli shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t even know the woman. Maybe she thinks she can take the powers from me.”
“Could she?”
“I don’t know.”
Soph watched him for a moment. He was being deliberately evasive, she could tell, but she didn’t know how to draw the information out of him.
“Adriana referred to it as the Founders’ Blessing, but my Nona always calls it the Founders’ Curse. Why?”
“In that sense, the Founder isn’t a plural, rather a singular. Ethereal bestowed the powers on the Founders, and each of them took it as a blessing or curse. A personal preference, I suppose.”
“The Ethereal?” Soph queried, confused. He spoke like the universe was a sentient being.
“Not the. Ethereal is her name. The original Founder. The creator of the supernatural. The others were just humans before she gave them their powers.”
Soph was quiet for a moment. Outside, the wind was picking up. She could still hear the TV in the lounge room. Cole must have been watching it. She considered Eli’s words. Ethereal was - or had been - an actual person? She couldn’t possibly have known that, and it wasn’t just because she’d neglected her studies. Nona had always referred to the energy they drew for their witchcraft as coming from the Ethereal, so she’d never known that Ethereal was sentient either.
“How do you know this?” She asked Eli. He turned his head to survey her and she could tell he was weighing up what to tell her.
“I’ve read about it,” he finally explained. “A long time ago, in some old books.”
Liar, Soph thought. The storm hit.