Tomorrows Child (22 page)

It was some
time before we spoke again. I was plotting an escape, but my first
escape had to be from this room. Leaving this room meant agreeing
to become a blood donor or worse, an apprentice to a vampire witch.
Both ideas sickened me.

Caitlyn stood,
“I’ll tell her you said yes, okay?” I looked at her, I was seething
inside and wanted to scream and shake sense into this girl, but I
said nothing. She walked to the door and reached into her pocket,
taking out the key before leaving the room. She had the key all
along! She was my escape and if I hadn’t been drugged, I may have
been able to discern this sooner.

Every day, I
had learned more about the magick of nature, but nothing about
human nature. The perversion that surrounded me was difficult to
comprehend. At least in the Hollywood version, a vampire was either
a parasite to be slaughtered, or the hero with at least one
redeeming quality. It could even be a tortured soul in love with
the heroine. At the end of a movie, I could switch off the telly
and forget all about vampires until next time. This was different -
this was real - this was a nightmare I couldn’t turn off.

The door opened
and a large figure blocked the light, I could see Caitlyn peeking
around her from behind. “You will bath, come.” She didn’t have the
evil voice I imagined; she wasn’t ugly either. There was nothing
remarkable about this woman that would invite suspicion if I met
her in the street. But I wasn’t going voluntarily to my death, or
worse, to a lifetime of blood-letting.

“Stand!” she
screamed, but I couldn’t stand. So I followed slowly on hands and
knees. I had not moved much in the past week and the cold stone
floor caused my joints to freeze like rusted hinges. I crawled
along behind. Obeying, but not understanding why.

She led me to a
bathing room. Not a normal bathroom; it was different somehow. The
room was huge and built completely of stone and concrete like the
rest of the house. Iron bars over the window were the premeditated
act of a predator and a sign that I was not her first prisoner. A
strange lamp filled the room with an eerie yellow glow. The lamp
smelled like sulphur. Several shower roses hung from the ceiling,
clustered together. Caitlyn ran in and turned on a tap. Water
flowed simultaneously from every showerhead and into an open drain
in the centre of the floor. The woman pulled me to my feet and
pushed me under the heavy stream of water before she left.

The water was
as cold as ice. “Use this, and take your clothes off,” Caitlyn said
when she handed me a large cake of soap. I stripped off my soaking
clothes and dropped them to the floor beneath my feet. I was glad
to be rid of the putrid things. The soap was gritty and stung like
acid, but smelt like grease. I scrubbed with fury, to take away the
filth and the misery, but it was pointless.

Caitlyn must
have told her that I agreed to become one of them like she said she
would. She planned to entice me into a life of blood-letting - a
willing victim.

Volante didn’t
“just” become a vampire and to her, it wasn’t a matter of survival.
I certainly don’t believe that you are turned into a vampire. It’s
a choice, a perverted pleasure. Volante must have been indulging
her perverse behaviour for some time because she designed a
structure to act as both a prison (for those like me) and a
fortress for her. In safer times, she would have needed to keep
people out as well as entrap them. I imagine it worked both ways.
The bars would make my escape difficult and rescue practically
impossible, as long as I remained locked away.

The clothes I
wore, or what remained of them, were tattered and covered in filth.
Whatever happened to cause my clothes to be less than a modest
covering was beyond my comprehension. I shivered against the chill
and wrung the water from my clothes. I was closer to death than
ever, but I had chosen life more than once and I wasn’t going to
quit today.

Caitlyn came
with fresh clothing and said, “She is waiting. You must hurry.” She
waited until I dressed and then skipped ahead with fast little
steps. She saw nothing wrong with her life and the blood-letting
that was a regular part of her existence. I guess for Caitlyn, this
was better than death, which from her account, appeared to be her
only other option. Caitlyn’s blond hair bounced as she skipped and
the flounces on her baby-doll dress flipped and twirled. Caitlyn
looked ridiculous, but she was seven and probably enjoyed the
attention and dressing up, regardless of the perversion that
surrounded her.

Volante stood
near a table, waiting for our arrival. The table was fully set in
all the finery one would expect at a formal dinner. She was dressed
in a full-length passion red dress, which hugged her body, leaving
no mystery as to what was hidden beneath. Her black hair was tamed
into a roll at the back of her neck, yet wisps of it fought to
escape. Around her neck hung a bright red stone, too large for a
ruby and too intense for a garnet. I knew of no other red stone so
I deemed it fake, in any case. I was sickened by all the pretence.
She smiled and told me to sit.

It occurred to
me that there could be much to gain from my casual observations of
this vain and heartless woman. The meal was simple, much like we
ate at home, but it lacked the variety and flourish that would have
matched the illusion she tried to create. I ate. I was starving.
Once or twice, Caitlyn kicked me under the table as a warning to
slow down. Volante ate as if she were at a royal dinner, picking up
small pieces of food and nibbling them to oblivion. She sipped red
fluid, which probably wasn’t blood, but could have been. The meal
was consumed in silence, but not due to my presence. This was
normal behaviour for this strange pair. Around the table, other
places were set, but the plates remained empty and sat between
unused forks and knives. There were others perhaps… I hadn’t asked
about “the others” Caitlyn mentioned. Perhaps it was set for them,
others who hadn’t yet succumbed to the jaws of the leech.

“Psyche, come
and stand beside me. There is little need to be afraid and you must
be willing to give or…” Her voice faded. She didn’t finish the
sentence and I imagined that it indicated my fate would be the same
as those who came before me and tried to resist.

I obeyed, not
sure why I was following her instruction so willingly, but I had
little choice. It wasn’t fear… I was repulsed. Volante stood facing
me. She took my chin and looked deep into my eyes. The human
sparkle was not present in the dullness of her black, soulless
eyes. My imagination perhaps, since I’d already judged this woman,
though she was yet to act in a way that lived up to Caitlyn’s
stories or my imaginings.

Volante placed
a hand over my heart and the other on my cheek. She closed her eyes
and took a deep breath. She stood, motionless for the longest time
and then opened her eyes. Her outstretched arms extended toward me
as if she would embrace me, but she didn’t. She reached out,
coercing the energy to her and sucking in air with long, deep
breaths. Her head rolled back as she continued. It was as if she
sucked the essence of a drug that hung in the air, intoxicating her
a little more with each breath. At first, I felt nothing and then a
deep tugging from within as I felt my energy draining away,
absorbed by the vampire. My heart beat faster with each of her
breaths, at first, but then it slowed. A dull ache formed across my
forehead and dizziness began to engulf me. I felt sick; the nausea
overwhelming me right before my knees buckled. The world spun and
sounds rang in my ear until there was nothing more. She didn’t even
notice my weakness and continued sucking at the air, arms extended
and fingers twisting and pulling my energy to her. I had no more to
give and collapsed to the floor. She noticed that.

“I thought you
were stronger,” she spat, seething with anger, visibly disenchanted
with her newest special one. I was disgusted, violated in a most
personal way; but as I lay there on the floor, there was little I
could do. Strong, rough hands appeared from nowhere, lifting me up
and carrying me away.

“Caitlyn, come
to me,” I heard Volante snap at the young child and her little
footsteps immediately followed.

I was dropped
onto the mattress that Caitlyn dragged into the room earlier. The
mattress was thin and hard and filled with a coarse fibre that
poked through the ticking and pricked my skin, but it was better
than sleeping on the stone floor.

Morning came
too fast, I think. Caitlyn brought me bitter water and some hard
bread. There appeared to be no pretence now, I had been tested and
my place had been established.

“She wants to
see you soon.” Caitlyn sat beside me as I ate, grating my teeth
against the hard bread. The room was finally bright with both the
window and the door open. Obviously, they didn’t think I would try
to escape, but I knew my life would probably depend on escaping
today.

I noticed a new
flesh wound on Caitlyn’s arm. The rosette that surrounded the deep
cut was red and purple and livid. This child was abused in a new
and horrifying way. I couldn’t leave her here and escape to the
safety of my life, knowing she would suffer every day until she
died.

“How often does
she do that?” I pointed to her arm.

“Not every day,
sometimes there are others. Sometimes she needs more medicine then
other days. You were supposed to make her better, but you just made
her angry and hungrier.”

“Caitlyn, Is
your blood medicine or food? Is Volante sick or hungry? Which is
it? It can’t be both.” I was annoyed with this child; she couldn’t
be this naïve.

“Yes, it’s
both. At first she gets hungry, but if she doesn’t feed, she gets
sick, then it’s medicine. That’s when it’s bad… when she needs
more, so much more. But you can feed her today, and I can
rest.”

I felt sick
again, nausea had been a familiar feeling these past few days and
it didn’t look as if it would be getting any better.

“Are you
ready?” she asked.

“What? Now?
Isn’t she still right from last night?”

“She would have
been, but she is cranky today and that always makes the hunger
worse. Better come now; you don’t want her any angrier.”

I followed,
barely able to stand, let alone walk. Not from the night before,
but from the thought of what was to come. Volante sat on a chair
under a tree in her garden. It was not productive like Libby’s
garden, nor was it a place of safety and solitude. It was an
overgrown mass of weeds and vines in varying stages of death. Some
flowers struggled to bloom, despite being strangled with vines,
while others had given up and stood as defoliated stumps, monuments
to death. These abandoned skeletons were nature’s warning to
unsuspecting travellers.

Volante did not
waste time. She didn’t smile or pretend this would be okay. She
didn’t quell my fear or offer any of life’s pleasures. Her eyes
were dull and lifeless, showing no emotion and no compassion. She
wrenched my wrist away from my body and held it tightly, her nails
pushing into my skin. I noticed her little fingernail had been
replaced with a razor-sharp blade. Ironically, it was engraved with
an ornate symbol not dissimilar to the ring that Libby wore. She
dug the nail deep into my vein without warning or hesitation. The
pain was immense, but the worst was yet to come. I felt the warm
blood flow down my arm and drip from my fingers. She watched it
spill to the earth as if to ensure it wasn’t tainted. And that was
it… She lowered her head and drank from my freshly cut vein. I felt
her lips against my arm, her teeth digging in and the sucking as
she drew my blood into her hot mouth. When I thought it time she
should have finished, she didn’t. She just kept draining my
blood.

Again, I
crumbled to my knees, but this weakness was different. When she
took my energy, I knew I would recover, but how much blood could a
person lose before they died?

“Caitlyn, come,
strengthen yourself. You will thank me tomorrow.” Volante made a
nick in my other arm and Caitlyn copied her teacher. Volante didn’t
look at me as she fed, but Caitlyn did. I felt the life begin to
leave me and still the two fed. I grew cold and began to shake.
Volante dropped my arm first and Caitlyn followed.

“There is more
if you wish. It is doubtful she will live another day anyway. Do as
you will, Caitlyn. If you want more, take it.”

She turned then
and addressed me, “You should have been so much more, Psyche. I had
such hopes for you, plans that would have offered you a life others
would envy and more power than that insipid grandmother of yours.
But this is your loss, not mine. I have waited since your birth. He
promised you would be special and maybe there was a time when you
were. At first I thought it was you who kept me out, but you are
weak. Fortunately there are others…”

I faded a
little, teetering on the brink of life and death, not quite sure
what I was hearing as the humming in my head grew louder. Caitlyn
still held my wrist to her lips as she drank the hot blood.

“You know, the
promise of a child like you is only a fortuitous event if you are
left to bloom. But you were not; the magick taints your purity. It
binds your strength. I’ve never seen anything so strong, bound so
tight. She must have seen it, your grandmother maybe.” She wasn’t
making sense. “Or perhaps your mother. But it matters little now,
all they did was ensure your death. They could have saved so much
if they just killed you at birth.”

I faded…
Volante kept on with her tirade, but it made little difference now
as all hope of escape vanished into darkness. I don’t know if
Caitlyn continued to feed or if Volante returned to drain the last
of my life. I guess I’ll never know.