Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ A Matter Of Choice ❯ In Fear of the Self ( Chapter 47 )

In Fear of the Self

 

Torin and Demetriov left the mansion at sunset. They split up to search for any sign of Tegan. Demetriov returned to the club that had been the scene of the incident hoping top find some kind of clue as to where Tegan might have gone, the place shut down and surrounded by police cars. He slipped through the watching crowds listening to the gossip, hoping he might hear something he could use in his search. He listened in as forensic officers talked over what information they had.

 

“I tell you, something's not right about all this.” Said one holding a file.

 

“You're telling me. Four people dead, same killer same M.O., all so quickly, and we can't even begin to think how it was done. Well what have we got?”

 

“Post Mortem's are tomorrow and may shed some light on things. The only other thing of note is this witness statement. Some girl says she saw a woman fly out of the club; she was shit scared of something. Then a man ran after her and he was in one hell of a hurry to catch her.”

 

“Which way did they go?”

 

“That way.” The one with the file pointed up the street.

 

Demetriov took his cue from that, and started off in the direction pointed out. It was probably clutching at straws but it was better than nothing.

 

* * * * *

 

It was an hour before dawn when Demetriov wandered into the park. He was losing hope of finding Tegan. Two nights of searching and the trail grew cold. The scent of freshly blooming flowers filled the air, making him pause. The glow of the pre-dawn sky highlighted the subtle hues of the flowers and the lush greenery. In the corner of the park sat a tree, branches drooping laden with heavy leaves, casting a deep shadow on the ground. But as he looked again, the shadows were not the only thing beneath the tree.

 

Sat nestled in the roots; almost invisible in the shadows was the figure of a young woman. Her hair lay draped over her face, hugging her knees to her chest. Demetriov crept over intrigued. What was a woman of her age doing alone in the park at this time of the morning? He reached out gently to curiously touch her shoulder only to find his wrist held in an iron grip.

 

“Don't touch me Demetriov!” Came the vicious snarl.

 

He smelt blood, but it wasn't human. He looked at the hand grasping his wrist and saw the open, bleeding burns. She'd had quite a close call yesterday.

 

“You're hurt.” He stated as she snatched her hand away from his prying eyes.

 

“It doesn't matter.” Tegan's reply flat and uninterested.

 

“It's not like you Tegan,” he tried to reason with her, to soothe and calm her.

 

“No, it wasn't me at all.”

 

“Well a couple of feeds should sort that.”

 

“Don't talk to me about feeding!” She roared her voice low, guttural, and full of anger. “I'm not sure that I will ever feed again!”

 

In her anger her hair had slid away from her face. Demetriov caught a fleeting glimpse of the raw burns that marked the left side. He turned to look at the sky. It worried him to see her like this, and they were running out of time. He had to convince to come home and fast.

 

“It will be dawn soon.” He mused.

 

“I know.”

 

Her tone showed that she didn't care in the slightest.

 

“You have to come back some time Tegan.”

 

“You know damn well that I don't,” she hissed

 

“Don't do anything stupid,” Demetriov chided her. “Torin and I have both been searching for two nights straight. He's worried sick. If you are going to do anything at least tell him why first. And tell him to his face.” Demetriov's tone took an angry note.

 

Tegan remained silent for a moment. She took a deep breath.

 

“I can feel it Demetriov,” she said softly, fear in the almost whisper.

 

He turned to sit beside her on the grass, listening to her now, aware that this might be the only way to get her back safely.

 

“It's there, all the time, behind my eyes, fighting to get out. It's like there's someone else inside of me. An animal full of insane rage, trying to claw its way out.”

 

“But you are in control,” he said gently, eyes watching her reaction carefully.

 

“I wasn't last night. When I do die, I shall burn in hell for that abomination.”

 

“Don't talk like that.”

 

“Why not? It's the truth, or do you really expect me to be able to go on committing horrors like that for all eternity? We both know that I wouldn't be able to do that.”

 

Cautiously he reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder. This was an opportunity to break down barriers between them, get her to let go of some of the anger and hate she held against him. If he could reason with her, comfort her now, it would be a big step toward achieving what he wanted to.

 

“Control can be learnt,” he soothed gently, glad she had not brushed him off out of hand. It showed how much she was hurting, and wanted to be comforted. Of course he would take advantage of this.

 

“Show me vampires who have learned to control the monster inside them. No don't bother, I know that you can't. They have all perished one way or another. You shouldn't lie Demetriov. It may well get you into trouble,” she said harshly.

 

He winced, Tegan was not going to be so easily swayed. He needed to try a different tack with her.

 

“I'm sorry. It's hard to know what to say. I guess I am just trying to say the right things.”

 

“But that never works does it? Not for anyone. All it does is make things worse.”

 

“Not all the time.”

 

The two fell into silence. They were still enemies, though the hate that Tegan felt towards him seemed to lessen with time and he was hoping to push that process forward. Now that rancour was turned toward herself. It seemed that she had found something to hate more. It allowed Demetriov to talk to her, but there was no truce, and he was in no doubt that if he gave her sufficient cause she would lash out at him. The question that everyone wanted the answer to loomed in his mind. Now she was a vampire, what was she really capable of? Last night's events only added to the worry in his subconscious when it came to that little question.

 

“This place offers me sanctuary.” She spoke to no one in particular. “It's one of the few places of natural beauty left to me now.”

 

Now this was something that he could work with, this he could use to calm her now.

 

“Then instead of contemplating the worst, use this sanctuary to heal. After all, isn't that what sanctuaries are for? For protection and healing?” He asked gently.

 

“I guess.”

 

Demetriov looked at the rapidly lightening sky.

 

“Come, you can't stay here now, but this place will be here for a long time yet. It can be a place of peace when you need it to be. You can come back whenever you want or need to.”

 

He stood, and turning to her, offered his hand to help her up, to help her home. Tegan looked up at him through a veil of hair. She did not want his help, but he was right. And she was not going to get home tonight without help. The burns made it painful and hard to move. She took his hand with her unhurt one and rose painfully to his side. She hid away the burns on her face behind her hair and tucked her burned hand inside her jacket, leaning against him for support.

 

“If we had time I would have you feed but I don't think we can do both safely.”

 

Tegan nodded her head; already feeling the tiredness that dawn always brought to her. Sleepily she allowed him to take her home. As he led her Demetriov smiled to himself while Tegan could not see, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Yes, she was losing her animosity against him little by little. Good, very good. It proved that with time and patience she could be won round, and of course, with a few prods in the right direction. Maybe the events of the previous night were not such a disaster after all.

 

* * * * *

 

Torin ran into the safety of the mansion, the approaching dawn light chasing him to the door. He slammed the doors behind him, out of breath. Leaning against the doors he opened his eyes to find Demetriov waiting for him.

 

“I didn't find her.” He gasped.

 

“No, but I did.”

 

“You did!” Torin grabbed Demetriov by the shoulders, shaking him. “Where is she? Is she all right? Where did you find her?” He demanded.

 

“Calm yourself.” Demetriov slid out of his grasp. “Just calm down and I will tell you everything.”

 

Torin breathed out heavily and nodded. He took a moment to catch his breath, and then followed where Demetriov beckoned. Demetriov closed the doors to the salon behind them.

 

“The others do not know what has gone on.” He explained. “I intend to keep it that way. Don't get me wrong, they know something is up, but if we are careful they never have to know what exactly.”

 

Torin nodded and sat on the arm of the sofa.

 

“She's safe, she's upstairs sleeping. I found her in the flower gardens, and she's hurt. She's been burned by the sun but it will heal. There wasn't time to get her to feed tonight so she is weak. You need to make sure she looks after herself tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you.” Torin replied relieved, turning to leave.

 

Demetriov caught his arm and stopped him. Torin's eyes were questioning.

 

“When she wakes make sure she finds herself in your arms. Don't say anything; just be there. Don't ask questions, but listen to her. Questioning her will only make a bad situation worse. She is very fragile right now. What she needs is your support and understanding. She may need time alone, give it to her and trust her. If you follow her you will make her lose any confidence she gains. She will talk in time if she needs to, but if she doesn't then just let it be. It's for the best.”

 

Torin smiled staunchly but said nothing. Demetriov was right and he slid gently out of his grasp. It was not that he didn't want his advice or to be around him, but that he longed to be at Tegan's side. Demetriov watched him, go, pleased with himself and his work. The seeds had been sown tonight, and for now Torin would care for her, but soon, yes soon, he would begin to make her his.

 

Torin was more than happy to have Tegan home safe. Still he mounted the stairs with deliberate slowness. He felt weary, he hadn't fed in two nights and it was starting to show. His steps were measured; his footfalls deliberately quiet as he approached her room. He knew he would not wake her from the deep slumber she lay in, but still remained cautious anyway. It just felt the right thing to do. He opened her door, stepping inside the room silently, closing the door behind him gently. She lay in her nightdress, her back to him, hair shrouding her face. He sat gently on the bed beside her, gently stroking the hair away from her face. The sight of the burns shocked him slightly, tugging at his heartstrings. He hated to see her hurt; he always had, even in the days before she had started to hunt them. She moaned in her sleep as his fingers brushed against the raw wounds.

 

“Shh, my love. I'm here now. I'll always be here.” Torin soothed.

 

He remained motionless until she calmed, and settled back into her calm slumber. He got up and undressed, before lifting the covers gently and sliding in beside her. Her skin fairly burned against his own, the blood inside her hot, angry, trying to repair the damaged tissue, making her weak and feverish. He hoped that his own cool skin might bring some relief to her. He nestled into her back as he felt the weariness begin to overcome him.

 

He felt such relief and joy that she was here and that she was safe. Still, no matter how he tried he could not quiet all the questions and doubts that plagued him. They circled in his mind like noisy crows, threatening to spoil his enjoyment, though at the end, at the threshold between the waking and dream worlds it was his hunger that became most prominent. They would both need to feed when they woke, and they would do it together.