Authors: April Smyth
He clasps my hands within his. They are rough but the gesture is soft. It is incredible how intensely and vastly men can vary. When I first met Gabe I hated him, or at least I pretended I did. He was afraid to touch me, terrified of letting me in or becoming attached to anyone. I watched from afar and fell in love with the brooding mess of a man despite both of our best efforts to avoid it. Maurice, the cruel vampire, - I shouldn’t even classify him as a man - was charming, beautiful and strong but his heart was cold and icy. Oliver is warm in all aspects. Here he is holding his hands out to me, something neither of the men in my previous life could ever do. I think he can help me.
‘Thank you, Oliver,’ I don’t know why but I slip my hands out of his quickly.
‘We can go back into the house until nighttime if you like,’ he says, indifferent to my drawback. I can’t imagine sleeping here in this damp, cold room. It would only make me feel more alone than I already am. I feel insane to be longing to stay with Oliver tonight. For the first time in months I’ve longed to sleep in somebody else’s arms. I haven’t been able to think about sex since I left Toulouse. Jonathan tried but I always gently declined and he never pushed it if I said no. Having sex with Maurice royally fucked me up but I have this peculiar sensation in my gut which tells me I would enjoy, find solace, in making love to Oliver and falling asleep in his strong arms. I shake the thought out of my head. It’s ridiculous.
He takes me to the main building. It is less harrowing on the inside in comparison to its dilapidating exterior. He gives me a tour. Clearly it isn’t as grand as it used to be but everywhere there are rich colours: maroons, burgundies, chocolate browns, and rich textures: hard woods, heavy velvet drapes, silks on the coffee table. There are two lounges, a formal dining area, three bedrooms accompanied by their own bathrooms, a games parlour with a deluxe pool table and a wonderful kitchen with oak counters. There are burning fires in most of the rooms so my skin is toasty by the time he shows me the last room upstairs which is his own bedroom.
I feel uncomfortable standing in this man’s bedroom when I know nothing about him apart from that I maybe want to sleep with him. His bedroom is plain: mahogany furniture and dark violet bedsheets and matching curtains. The bed looks insanely comfortable and is overflowing with decorative cushions and a furry throw at the end. It doesn’t seem to match Oliver’s macho exterior but probably says a lot about his cushy heart.
He seems embarrassed, ‘I let my housekeeper pick all the interior design... She loves all this shit,’ he laughs and picks up a little bejeweled pillow. ‘If it was up to me I’d be sleeping outside every night but she insists...’
Odd relationship to have with staff but it makes a sweet contrast to Maurice and his army of workers. I wonder how they are all coping after my escape.
‘I’ll introduce you to her,’ he says but I’m lost in thought.
‘Who?’
‘My housekeeper, June,’ he says and we leave his bedroom to return to one of the lounges, ‘She is an angel. She seriously stops me from going insane up here and she is hilarious too. You will love her at least if you think I suck you will have some company.’
A very small smile creeps onto my face, ‘I don’t think you suck.’
I kind of wish I did. I have spent so long being internally miserable that I have become accustomed to it. Being sad is now just a way of life for me and pretending it doesn’t exist is almost as easy too. It’s making me feel uneasy when Oliver is batting those thick eyelashes in my direction, I feel like it
will
be okay eventually. There is something about him that makes me feel safe.
‘Yet,’ Oliver smirks.
A short, dark lady enters the room. Her black hair is greying and she is wearing very casual clothes for a member of staff. Clearly Oliver has a very relaxed relationship with this woman. She smiles wildly at me and she extends a hand to me, ‘I am June. It is very nice to meet you, Cassie, I hope you will feel at home with me and Oliver.’ She has an English accent which seems out of place contrasting against Oliver and I’s broad Scottish cadence.
I look at the way they regard each other; there is clearly a strong bond between these two people like mother and child which makes me wonder about Oliver’s parents and in turn I cast my mind towards my own parents. My dad will be in a state of panic again. He has only just been able to hold his new baby girl in his arms and now his first baby girl has been torn for his arms
again.
I feel sick thinking about the anguish I have put upon my family. I have destroyed my father too many times and it’s all because of my stupid blood. This sticky red liquid running through my veins is capable of so much healing and goodness yet all I have seen it do is corrupt and tear people’s lives apart.
As for my mother, Lucinda, I still know so little about her yet I yearn for her more than anybody in the world. It is so unjust that I have to live without her. She was a Healer like me, she could have helped me understand and taught me how to deal with being different. We could have done great things and really helped people together but Maurice killed her and he ruined my life, he destroyed a piece of my father too, he took away our happy family and although another happy family grew in its place I wish she was still here so much.
‘Your head is in the clouds, Cassie,’ June says and this makes me smile. I am going to like it here in spite of all the madness. Who knew a perfect haven existed not so far from me? I wish Oliver had kidnapped me a long time ago.
A haven is exactly what this is. Although I’ve never been a major fan of the silver screen, Oliver and I watch 80s movies until it is dark outside. June dips in and out occasionally and mutters something nonsensical. Sometimes Oliver and I talk over the movie and it astounds me to learn that he is incredibly open about his life.
He talks freely about his life and it is odd to be with someone who isn’t such a mystery. His parents died when he was young but they bestowed custody on June who has ran the affairs in this house ever since he was five years old and she still keeps things in order even now that he is old enough to do it himself. He loves cheesy movies, soul music and Chinese food. He seems shocked when I tell him that I prefer dusty books to movies, and always have, and promises me that he will teach me the beauty of a good, heartwarming film.
After a couple of hours, when it is completely black outside, I am totally comfortable in his presence and I feel like I know him so well, ‘And what about being a werewolf?’ I ask. I am curious. I know plenty about vampires to understand they are monsters. There is nothing human or redeeming about them. I know a little about witches; they’re not all bad but I am pretty sure I wouldn’t want to irk a powerful witch after realising the enormity of what Arrow has been capable of. However I am completely ignorant in the realms of werewolves. I’m just unsure whether it is too much of a personal question and we’re not quite at that point of our friendship yet after all it has only been a day.
‘What about it?’ he asks with a shrug. I’m glad he doesn’t seem offended or flustered by my curiousity.
‘Well, tell me whatever you want me to know,’ I say. I am completely relaxed for the first time in months. I’m stretched out on his black leather couch with a coffee coloured cover tucked around me. June has provided us with hot chocolate and toast throughout the day and the easy conversation has been the best medicine for my sore heart.
‘And what do you want to know?’
‘Stop being cryptic,’ I laugh softly. ‘I have no time for that in my life anymore.’
‘Well, I am a human just as much as you but every so often I turn into a wolf,’ he says like it is as simple and normal as brushing your teeth in the morning. There has to be more to it than that but for the first time today Oliver doesn’t seem interested in talking.
But he did say he is human, just as much as me. That is a relief. I couldn’t deal with another alien creature like a vampire again. Men are bad enough to deal with but even worse without a healthy dose of humanity. ‘Every so often?’ I probe. ‘Like once a month, only at night?’
‘It occurs during the full moon so yeah around once a month and only at night,’ he explains. ‘Enough about me, what is it like to be a Healer?’
I wince at the mention of that horrible word. Healing should bring happiness to our lives. I should be able to help people but healing means more to me than that now. I understand the true power of the ability to
heal
and the burden that it brings. Oliver notes my uncomfortable silence and turns the movie up louder as if to say: ‘it’s okay we don’t have to talk about it now.’ I know eventually I will be able to open up to Oliver like he has with me. It would be so easy to be vulnerable around him but I have discovered the hard way that leaving yourself unguarded can only end in you being shot down.
Time is moving fast and I’m all to aware, and terrified, of this. I don’t want the day to end. Spending time with Oliver is perfect but when I have to go back to that shed outside I will be reminded of the terror. Maurice is in Ayrin, he is so close to my family and he is after me. He isn’t in France anymore and reality is going to sink in. I have to face the fact that I am going to die soon and only Oliver can ward off that painful realisation.
FOUR
I am exhausted. A day of doing very little physically has been so mentally tiring. If only I could cuddle into that big purple bed and snuggle my face into Oliver’s chest I would fall asleep instantly and I even think he could keep the nightmares away.
I yawn. Oliver laughs and it is like sweet music. I miss Gabe’s laughter; it possessed
real
healing qualities. ‘You’re tired. Time for bed?’
‘No,’ I snap. That is the last thing I want. I can’t leave here. ‘I’m not tired,’ but another yawn follows almost immediately and gives my dishonesty away so I have nothing to do but smile like a mischievous child.
Oliver hovers over me and without my permission he scoops me up in his arms. ‘You are really tiny,’ he says. I want to fight it but I am too tired so I hook my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder. He smells earthy like mud and faint sweat but I like it. His beard scratches my forehead but I like that too. The fact that he can hold me with such ease and treats me like a doll should be repulsive to someone who considers themselves an independent woman but after the year I’ve had, it feels incredible to be encompassed by another person and let your worries soak into their body.
He carries me through the house, outside into the bitterly cold Scottish air and back into that dingy hut in the back garden. He lays me onto the bed and we sigh in unison. I wonder if he didn’t want to let go of me as much as I didn’t want to be let go of.
‘Do I have to stay here? Can’t I just stay in one of the spare bedrooms? You have enough,’ I complain.
He rolls his eyes, ‘I would love you to but there are no wards on the house to stop vampires getting in and I really need to get some sleep. I can’t stay awake all night afraid a big, bad vampire is going to get you and I am a pretty heavy sleeper.’
I laugh but I am so tired that it trails off. In my sleepy haze I pull off my jeans and tuck myself underneath the thin bedsheets and look at my new kidnapper. He is beautiful. His face is big and wide as are all his features like those huge brown eyes. They are different from Gabe’s but still lovely.
‘It’s so cold in here,’ I complain.
‘Don’t be a baby,’ he says but he lies beside me with only the thin cover separating us. His body heat is enough to bring some warmth back into my body but I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to move in closer and really feet his warmth.
I frown. My heart is beating faster at the proximity. I really do want to jump on him and feel his body all over mine but I love Gabe wholeheartedly and I know deep down that using physical love to distract me would only pour salt into the wound that my love for Gabe has caused.
Oliver is making it hard for me not to give into the distraction though. He puts an arm around me and turns so our faces look into one another’s. Up close I can see every small hair on his face and every pore in his sallow skin and I can hear his slow breathing. I wonder what he is thinking about.