Boston, 1806
Katherine was restlessly pacing the length of her bedroom, alternately clenching and wringing her hands together in frustration. Her throat was burning, parched, and she was ravenous. What was taking them so long? It had been over a week since she had last satiated the appetite that, after ten years, her conscience still found repulsive, and she wasn't certain how much longer she could withstand the agonizing thirst.
As she continued to pace, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror out of the corner of her eye and shuddered compulsively. She didn't think she would ever get used to that look that appeared in her eyes now whenever she was hungry. It was akin to the kind a starving animal might have and it frightened her because that, if nothing else, served as a constant reminder of the fact that she was no longer human.
Even if she managed to wipe the fact from her mind for a few hours, or perhaps even days, at a time, the truth always came crashing back in when she looked at her reflection after a lapse in feeding. Her eyes would darken beyond their normal shade of hazel and equally dark circles would form beneath them, contrasting starkly with her pale skin, lending her face a gaunt, sunken-in appearance. It was only then that looked like what she truly was: a walking corpse.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway caught her attention and her head swiveled sharply in the direction of the, locked, door, from underneath which wafted the smell of fresh blood. She inhaled heavily on instinct and then wished she hadn't, as this only raised her scorching thirst to new heights. A distraction, however, was soon provided in the form of the murmuring of soft voices as the footsteps ceased and a conversation took its place.
"I don't see why we have to share our spoils with her," her sire's companion, who she had come to know as Charlie, was grumbling. "Don't you think it is about damn time that she went off hunting on her own?"
"Have patience, Charlie," was Darien's smooth, if patronizing, response, accompanied by the sound of keys sliding on a ring as he searched for the one to her room. "She's still young yet, still uneasy about our lifestyle. There will be plenty of time for her to learn. Besides, isn't it our job as men to provide for our female companion?"
This only resulted in more grumbling, followed by the sound of the key turning in the lock and the swinging of the door as it opened. "I apologize for the delay," Darien said by way of greeting as he strode into the room, a pitcher in one hand, a garment bag in the other; Charlie followed with a glowering expression in place. "But we ran into a little difficulty."
"By 'difficulty,' I presume you mean that someone actually managed to fight you," Katherine drawled, need registering in her gaze as it flickered to the pitcher, maintaining her sassiness despite the hunger that was overpowering her. "Brava to them."
"Is that any way to speak to the man who comes baring nourishment and gifts?" He responded with his usual mildness, setting down the pitcher on the bedside table and draping the garment bag over the footboard of the bed. He was never much affected by her scathing verbal attacks, a fact which only served to raise her ire even more.
She made a sound along the lines of a derisive snort, folding her arms across her chest, trying to hide the fact that she was shaking from need to satiate her appetite. "You're not a man," she retorted snidely. "You're an animated cadaver."
"As are you," he reminded her simply in a callous manner that would've made her flinch a decade ago, but which she had become accustomed to.
She glanced away sharply. "You don't have to remind me," she murmured darkly, folding her arms even more tightly, her expression stony.
Darien said not another word, only glancing over to Charlie and then nodding to the door in a gesture for him to leave. Charlie made a slight grunting noise on concession, shooting an irritated look in Katherine's direction again before leaving.
"Are you ever going to stop hating me, Katherine?" Darien inquired of her once they were alone. He had picked up the pitcher again, pouring some of the blood into a goblet, as he spoke, although his eyes never left her face.
"Give me one reason why I should," she demanded of him crossly, tilting her chin up a little in a defiant manner, her gaze straying to the goblet despite of herself.
The tiniest of amused smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Well, it would make the rest of eternity a good deal more bearable," he said, holding out the goblet to her. "Drink. You're starving, I can see it in your eyes."
Unable to restrain herself any longer, she reached out to snatch the goblet out of his hand, draining the contents with a soft sigh of satisfaction. As she finished, her tongue made a sweep over her tongue and teeth, as had now become a natural response, and she set the goblet back down. Glancing in the mirror for a second, it once again became apparent that this wasn't a thirst born out of mere desire, but an actual physical need: already, the color was starting to come back to her cheeks and the ravenous look was fading from her eyes.
"So I'm assuming you're not one bit curious about your gift," he remarked after a long moment of silence, nodding to the garment bag. "I had it made especially for you."
"A funeral shroud, perhaps?" She retorted dryly, pouring herself a second glass, her thirst not yet entirely assuaged. "That would be most fitting."
The amused smile returned, following through to his eyes. "Not exactly," he said, picking up the bag and unfastening it, revealing a stunning red silk gown with intricate beading along the neckline and hem. "Just something I thought you would look lovely in."
Faint surprised flickered across her face, accompanied by a slight arching of her eyebrows. "Isn't it a little cliché for our kind to wear red?" She couldn't help but quip wryly, finishing off her second glass.
"Perhaps," he conceded with a slight shrug, the amused smile lingering. "But it's such an exquisite color on you, I couldn't help myself."
"I can see that ten years hasn't been long enough for you to figure out that flattery isn't going to get you anywhere," she responded, sinking down onto the mattress at the foot of the bed, looking away again.
"I'm not trying to get anywhere," he said, leaning against the footboard. "I'm only speaking the truth." Reaching over, he crooked a finger underneath Katherine's chin, turning her face towards him. "You're so very beautiful."
"I'd rather be repulsive if it meant I was allowed to be at rest with my husband," she shot back, jerking her head away, out of his reach.
"He is no more worthy of your companionship in death than he ever was in life," he retorted. "I had thought you would've realized that by now. He's the reason you're here."
Her eyes flashed. "That is the most asinine thing I've ever heard!"
"It's true," he said, his gaze meeting hers straight on. "If he hadn't gotten himself into such a monetary scrape, he wouldn't have had to come to me for money. Moreover, if he hadn't failed to live up to his end of the bargain, we never would've had to corner the two of you in the alley that night. And if we hadn't had to corner you, Charlie would never have had to kill him and I would never have set eyes on you. It all comes full circle."
Katherine's eyes flashed again and a white hand flew up to slap him clean across the face, but he caught it midair before contact could be made. "He was a good man who made a few bad choices," she hissed, even as he enfolded her hand in his. "Unlike you, who is nothing more than a monster waiting in the shadows to take advantage of such men!"
He regarded her in silence for a moment, his calm expression unwavering, before he loosened his grip on her hand enough so that he could kiss the palm. "I do hope one day you'll stop thinking of me as such," he murmured, releasing her entirely. "I only do what I have to in order to survive in this world." He straightened up, then, and headed back towards the door. "I'll check in on you later."
"Am I ever going to be free to roam about on my own or are you always going to keep me locked up in here?" She demanded, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he dug the keys back out of his pocket.
"You'll earn your freedom once I can trust you not to pounce on the nearest living creature the second you set foot outside this house," he responded mildly, opening the door and sliding the key into the lock. "Tempering your urges will come with age and with practice."
"How am I supposed to get practice without exposure?"
Darien paused for a moment, cocking his head to one side a little in thought, before saying, "Fair enough. When the time comes for the next hunting session, you'll accompany us. It's time to see how well you can handle yourself."
The color drained from her face a little, her red lips parting as if to emit some kind of protest. She just wanted some fresh air, to be able to walk around without having her benefactor's eyes watching her every move, not to kill.
"You'll need to learn how to fend for yourself eventually," he told her, as if reading her mind, stepping outside into the hallway. "Sooner rather than later would be best." He offered her a smile and a slight bow, "Have a good day, my dear," before closing the door.
She remained frozen still where she was seated on the bed, the only sound that of the key turning in the lock and Darien's retreating footsteps. Closing her eyes tightly, she released a shaky breath, trying not to think of the fact that, in a few days time, she'd be a murderess.
