A Shade of Vampire 8: A Shade of Novak (12 page)

I
was woken
the next morning by another knock at my door.

What is it this time?

I found myself looking at Caleb’s harp. I supposed he’d thought it would give me something to do while I was alone in my room for hours. I felt grateful for the gesture. Then my eyes settled on the floor beside the instrument. A tray full of food. Not oatmeal. Real breakfast food. I pulled the harp into my bedroom. Then I returned to scoop up the tray and put it on my bedside table, and began to eat hungrily. French toast had never tasted so good to me in all my life. I gobbled everything up in less than five minutes.

I wonder where on earth Frieda—Caleb—even got this food? I witnessed for myself how bare the kitchen was.

Once I’d finished, I took a shower and got dressed.

I headed up the stairs toward Caleb’s room. I knocked on the door and waited. He answered it after a couple of minutes, appearing at the door fully dressed, no trace of the scars from the previous night left visible.

“I, uh. I wondered if you’d mind taking me for a walk? Outside, I mean. I haven’t had any proper exercise in days.”

He stared down at me, a flicker of discomfort showing across his face, followed by indecision. I thought he was about to say no, but then he nodded.

“All right,” he said. “Wait here.”

He returned a few seconds later wearing shoes and holding a scarf in his hands.

I eyed the scarf as he stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him.

“I didn’t know vampires needed…”

He handed it to me before I finished my sentence. “For you. It’s freezing out there.”

“Oh. Cheers.” I took it and wrapped it around my bare neck.

He gestured toward the stairs and I followed him.

“Thanks for the harp. And the breakfast.”

Keeping his eyes straight ahead, he nodded slightly.

We descended the stairs in silence. When we reached the main door, he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked it. Pushing with both hands, he heaved the doors open. The force of the icy wind that came flooding through the doorway knocked me breathless.

“Can you manage?” he asked, frowning.

“Yes,” I said immediately.
As if I can’t walk through a bit of wind without his help.

Holding onto the door for support—my eyes now beginning to water from the wind—I walked to the edge of the wide stone doorstep and, rather too brashly, placed one slippered foot onto the icy ground. It started sliding as soon as I made contact with it.

I can do this. I just need to take it slowly…

I placed the second foot on the ground and found enough confidence to let go of the door completely.

Swiveling around, I turned myself to face Caleb, who was watching me, his expression blank. Glancing down the side of the mountain, I was so taken by the sheer beauty of the frozen landscape, I lost concentration and slipped. Just as I was about to make contact with the ice, Caleb’s arms wrapped around me, breaking my fall.

His face inches from my own, I could feel his cool breath against my cheek as he pulled me upright.

Okay, these slippers weren’t designed for the Antarctic.

“So that witch,” I said, clearing my throat and looping an arm firmly though his, “Annora. She makes this island freezing like this just to make it more difficult for the humans to escape?”

“That’s the main reason.”

“And you have to put up with this weather all year round. What an asshole.”

Caleb didn’t respond to my outburst, though I could have sworn I saw the shadow of a smile on his lips.

I gripped onto him as we began to make our way down the narrow steps.

“So, what’s your name?” I asked.

“You know my name.”

“Your full name.”

“Caleb… Achilles.”

“Achilles? As in the tragic Greek hero Achilles?”

I was about to say “as in the Brad Pitt Achilles”. But I wasn’t sure if he would have seen that movie. I wasn’t sure if he even watched movies.

“It’s also a Germanic surname.”

“Oh. I see.”

I started wondering about what his boundaries were in terms of questions he would answer.
I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

“Do you have family?”

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the icy steps.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“And how long ago were you turned?”

“A while ago.”

Hm.

“So when you’re not out kidnapping girls, you’re moping around this gloomy old castle?”

“You could put it like that.”

No wonder you’re depressed.

By now I was beginning to get tired of walking down the steps in my slippers. “Would you carry me the rest of the way down?”

He grunted and scooped me up in his arms. Then he began dashing down the mountain. My eyes watered from his speed coupled with the fierce wind blowing against us. I half expected him to slip and for both of us to go tumbling down the mountainside, but he didn’t falter once. Every step was perfect.

He placed me down again once we reached the bottom of the mountain. Feeling more confident on this flat surface, I didn’t reach for his arm again as we walked toward the entrance of the woods.

“So,” I said. “I take it that you don’t have a girlfriend?”

No duh, Captain Obvious. Unless she doesn’t mind taking a bedtime beating alongside him every night when the witch comes to visit.

“You’d be correct in assuming that.”

Change the subject
.

“So how did you know about me?”

He glanced down at me, an eyebrow raised.

“You seemed to know who I was the moment I mentioned my name back on the beach.”

He ran a hand through his hair and clenched his jaw. “Most vampires have heard of you,” he muttered. “You’re princess of The Shade. That place is a legend.”

“Have you ever visited The Shade?”

He shook his head.

“It’s beautiful. Much nicer than this bleak place. Why don’t you come live with us there instead? We could leave now. I’d make sure that my parents welcomed you and—”

Exhaling sharply, he broke away from me and ran to a nearby tree. Ripping off a thick branch, he snapped it in two over his knee. Then he rested his arm against the tree, his back still turned to me, his whole body heaving.

“Caleb?” I whispered.

He turned back round to face me, composing himself again and standing up straight, his face once again unreadable.

“We should return.”

A
nnora
.

I need to understand what’s going on between her and Caleb. I don’t know how or why, but I’m certain that she’s what’s preventing Caleb from helping me escape this island.

I lay awake in bed late that night once again, expecting to hear the commotion start upstairs as soon as midnight struck. But there was nothing. I waited until one o’clock, and when I still heard nothing, I climbed out of bed, pulled on my coat and slippers, and crept out of the door.

What does this mean? She’s visited him every single evening ever since I got here. Why not tonight?

I crept up to Caleb’s floor and stood outside his apartment. Placing my ear to the door, I tried to catch any indication that the witch could be in there.

But the whole castle was deathly silent.

Instead of returning to my room, I took the staircase leading up to the witch’s apartment. As I reached the red-carpeted landing, I was taken aback to see that her front door was open. Looking around me, my breathing quickening, I peeked inside. The entrance hall appeared empty, so I stepped in. I walked around the room, running a hand along the dusty wooden furniture as I looked around.

Finding nothing of interest, I moved into the adjoining room. Again empty.

This appeared to be a dining room. Shelves lined the walls, mostly containing books with a strange language scrawled down their spines.

Glass clinked. Dropping to the floor, I crawled toward the door at the opposite end of the room. It was ajar, light emanating through, along with a chilly draft.

Barely daring to breathe, I peeked through the crack. I was expecting to see the witch. Instead, sitting on the carpet in the center of the room was Caleb.

The window was wide open, an icy breeze blowing through the room. He had a glass of blood by his side and an old oak chest open in front of him on the floor. He was sifting through it slowly, lifting out a few random objects—a white pearl necklace, a gold ring, and what appeared to be a dried-up bouquet of flowers.

He placed them all down in front of him on the carpet. His eyes were distant as he gazed down at them, as though lost in thought.

He picked up the ring again and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. As if it had just burnt him, he dashed it against the floor and, picking up his glass of blood, hurled it against the mirror. It shattered, blood dripping down the mirror onto the wooden cabinet beneath it.

I sneezed.

The chilly breeze had gotten to me. I swore beneath my breath.

When he turned toward me, I slid away from the door and climbed under the table.

The door creaked open, and his feet paced along the edge of the table. He sniffed the air.

Oh, no.

He can smell my blood.

I scrambled further back, careful to keep beneath the tablecloth.

His footsteps approached closer and closer until I could crawl back no further. I held my breath as his feet stopped just inches away from where I was curled up.

His hand reached down and pulled up the tablecloth.

His face didn’t appear, but the game was over because my legs were now visible.

He drew in a deep breath. Then he reached down once again, this time gripping my arm as he yanked me out from under the table and pulled me to my feet.

“What are you doing here?” he growled, his dark brown eyes narrowing on me.

I averted my eyes to the floor. He gripped me harder and shook me.

“Answer me!”

“I-I saw the witch crying the other day. And I just—”

He slammed my back against a wooden cabinet.

“It’s none of your business what goes on here. Do you hear me?” he shouted, pressing me so hard against the wood that it was a struggle to breathe.

When I didn’t answer, he released me, though his glare didn’t let up.

Trembling, I ran back through the rooms until I reached the exit. I didn’t look back as I hurried back down to my apartment.

Tears formed in my eyes as I swung my door open and rushed out onto my balcony. I stood staring out at the starry sky, trying to calm my nerves.

I stood there for far too long in the cold. But as I closed my eyes, the fresh air felt like it was transporting me somewhere else.
Somewhere other than this godforsaken place.

After about half an hour, the front doors to the castle creaked open. I looked down and watched as a lone figure stepped out onto the icy entrance steps and sat down. Breathing heavily. Head in his hands.

I
didn’t see
Caleb again for the next few days. Even if I hadn’t come down with the flu and been forced to stay in bed, I would have still avoided him as he avoided me.

I guessed that the flu had been brought on by standing too long on the balcony. I had a headache and didn’t feel like eating anything.

When I showed no signs of getting better after the fifth day in bed, I began to worry. It wasn’t like there were any doctors on call here. Normally when we got sick, Corrine took care of us. I was too shaken by our last encounter to want to approach Caleb for anything.

So I lay in bed, getting up to stoke the fire every once in a while, and wearing the coat wrapped tightly around me beneath the blanket.

By the seventh day, Caleb must have suspected that something was wrong. Frieda entered my room and walked over to my bed. One look at me, and she hurried back out.

Do I really look that awful?

She returned half an hour later with Caleb. His face appeared hazy as I looked up at him. His cold hand touched my forehead. I experienced some relief the moment his skin touched me. His hand was better than any cold towel.

“She has a fever,” he muttered to Frieda. “A very high fever. Stay in this room until I get back. Make sure the fireplace remains hot. This room still feels too cold. Also make sure all the windows are shut tightly.”

He walked out of the room and Frieda went about her duties.

I must have drifted off by the time he returned. But I was woken by his cool palm on my forehead once again.

“Sit up,” he said.

Frieda propped up cushions behind me and he reached around me as he pulled me into a sitting position. He sat down on the bed next to me and held a metal cup out in front of me.

“You need to drink this.”

I stared at it. A strange dark brown substance. Clasping it in my hands, I sniffed it.

“Ugh,” I groaned, nauseated by its pungent smell.

“Drink.”

He pushed the cup against my lips, and, supporting the back of my head with his hand, tipped some of the liquid into my mouth.

It burnt the inside of my mouth as soon as it entered, and singed my throat as I swallowed it.

“Ah!” I cried out. “No. No any more. Please don’t make me—”

But he was already gripping the back of my head and tipping more of the liquid through my lips.

I choked and complained again, but he ignored all my protests, forcing me to continue drinking until I had downed the very last drop.

“Give her some water now,” he said to Frieda.

She handed me a glass of water. I drank it down in a few gulps. Still the foul taste lingered on my tongue. I slid back down beneath the covers and glared up at Caleb.

“What the hell was that?“

“A potion,” he said.

“The witch made it?”

He shook his head.

“The witch isn’t here right now.”

Hm. That would explain a lot.

“Then who?”

“I made it.”

I stared up at him. Dancer. Musician. Potion-maker. The more time I spent with this man, the less I felt I knew about him.

“So can you do spells too?”

He shook his head again. “I’ve just spent enough time around witches to have picked up a trick or two.”

He forced me to drink that foul liquid three times a day. He personally made sure that I swallowed every last drop. As revolting as it was, I couldn’t deny that each time I drank it, I felt better. By the third evening, my appetite had returned to normal and I was able to walk around again.

He sat in the chair in the corner of my room, watching me stretch my legs.

“Rose,” he said, breaking the silence after Frieda had left us. “I apologize if I hurt you the other night.”

My hands reached instinctively for my shoulders as I recalled the incident. He had not so much hurt me as shaken me.

I nodded.

“All right.”

He stood up and headed toward the door. Before opening it, he turned around to me.

“You need to understand that there are things that I cannot and will not talk about with you. There are many things about me, the witch, and this place that you cannot know. So you need to stop pressing me for answers. But you have my word that I will do what I can to get you out of here as soon as the next opportunity presents itself. I want you out from under my skin just as much as you want out of here. I can’t tell you when or how it will happen, but you have my word: I will be waiting and watching for that time.”

With that, he left and shut the door behind him.