The Library
The days fell into a pattern with Amara rising everyday around one o'clock. After waking she would search the mansion for something to amuse herself with. She never found much of anything. Not even a book or a deck of cards. Once or twice she toyed with the idea of venturing outside; but she figured she should feel out his character a little more before disobeying him. So she occupied her time by nosing around all the nooks and crannies. The most she ever found was dust.
The evenings progressed exactly like the first one. Every night she dined with him: only after she struggled with Adelaide and Evangeline. (The two spirits insisted she wear a formal dress. To escape that frilly fate she had to concoct a new plan every night. Dressing herself quickly and running out the door seemed to work best.) After dinner Amara and the vampire would retire to the same drawing room to play chess. The only thing that differed was the conversation topics and the chess games. During these games, she began to notice with increasing frustration, that he was better than she thought. On the fifth night, after two minor wins and a smashing loss, she finally looked up and said what she had been suspecting,
"You let me win,"
The vampire's eyes rose to meet hers, "On the contrary, I'm afraid you just lost."
"I don't mean just now—I mean the past few games. You've been letting me win!"
Grinning, he leaned back in his seat with a satisfied smirk, "It keeps the game interesting."
"Maybe," her face contracted in concern, "but it's deceiving. I don't like being played."
"My apologies. I only meant to keep the game interesting for both parties."
Amara's brain lurched to a stop, "I think I better go to bed."
"Very well," the vampire replied gallantly, rising from his seat. Straightening her bones to control her wobbly legs, Amara rose as well. "Please, allow me to escort you to your room,"
"I can find it," she said more forcefully than she intended.
"Still, it would give me great pleasure to see you upstairs,"
"Alright," she conceded moving towards the door. Nineteenth century manners were hard to argue with; and she just wanted to get away.
0-0-0-0-0
Up in her room, Amara slipped a comfy shirt over her head. Deeply disturbed she pulled on a pair of thick socks as she stumbled towards the vanity. She felt like a stiff puppet—not wanting to be controlled, but still moving to his whimsy. He was playing with her. Brushing her hair vigorously, she stared at her reflection in the mirror: it was going to take strength on her part to resist his games. Catching sight of her eyes, she smiled cleverly—it was about time something interesting happened.
0-0-0-0-0
The next evening, Amara awoke refreshed. The challenge presented to her was invigorating after so many days of monotony. Her blood pulsed through her veins, excited at the new change of scenery. Tonight's dinner and chess would cease to be dinner and chess—instead they would be tests and trials. Amara was so enthralled she almost didn't notice Adelaide and Evangeline's reluctance to dress her. They only blew weakly around her, ruffling her hair but making no suggestions.
"Finally tried of fighting?" She teased, pulling a black long-sleeved shirt over her head. They didn't move. Concerned she looked around, "What's wrong?" Adelaide and Evangeline only gently nudged her out the door.
Even dinner seemed rather somber: the dishes were sluggish and the fire not nearly as animate as usual. The only thing that appeared normal was the vampire. His calmness only worried her further.
"What's going on?" She finally inquired halfway through the meal.
"What do you mean?" He asked, not looking up from his busy knife and fork.
"Why are the winds so—subdued?"
"Hmm," he exhaled through his nose, "they should know better than that."
"Better than what?"
"To worry you with a show of emotion,"
"What's wrong with them?" Concerned, Amara let her fork drop softly to the side of her plate.
"They're just sullen over something I said to them earlier,"
"What did you say to them?"
He looked up from his underdone steak, "Don't worry yourself about it," his grey eyes looked like steel. Amara felt her pulse thicken. Perhaps this was it: his entire scheme would be revealed. Whether he would eat her or keep her would be decided this night. She swallowed. Perhaps vampires were like cats, and played with their food before eating it.
Dinner ended earlier than usual. As the plates began to disappear out the door Amara jumped up skittishly from her chair. She thought the vampire gave her a strange look, but he moved so fluidly from his chair to the door that it was hard to tell. Still she followed softly behind, trying to appear normal. There was no need to alert him to her theories. Entering the hall, her legs automatically started to go right. They stopped at the sound of his voice; "I thought we might forgo our chess game tonight, in pursuit of a more immediate activity."
"What do you mean?" She inquired breathlessly, afraid to turn around.
"Come with me. There's something we need to take care of."
Amara twisted around, "No! Not until you tell me what's going on."
"Just come with me,"
"That really doesn't make it all that convincing," Amara quipped, her voice thin and panicked. The vampire sighed, as if tired by the whole process, and held out his hand,
"I don't want to have to do it this way Amara,"
"Then don't!" Before she could even blink, his hand shot out with lightening speed and attached itself to her upper arm. She whimpered at the touch of his fingers, which were like long, thin icicles. Turning right he marched down the corridor dragging her behind. Amara didn't even dare struggle: his hands were so cold and her feet so feeble. He continued to lead her down the hallway passing what she thought were the kitchens. Her eyes narrowed: those were the kitchens! She remembered the little butcher knife insignia by the door handle. But this hallway supposed to end! Every afternoon that she had spent exploring the mansion had never suggested something lay beyond the kitchens. He must have taken her down a secret hallway. Amara watched in a mixture of panic and curiosity as doors passed by her on all sides. Briefly, she wondered what was inside before they came to a stop outside one.
"Sino ego invado," the vampire muttered and the door swung inwards, letting them spill in. Once inside he released her arm, and she moved as far away as possible; which meant running into a desk. A desk? She looked again. She was in the middle of some sort of office. A desk sat in the middle with a chair behind it and two in front. Arranged behind were ceiling high bookcases, each containing a neat row of leather-spined books. To the left was a large window, through which a full moon glowed dryly in autumn's chill. What surprised her most was the latest computer system set up on the desk. It looked incredibly out of place in a room that should have Cuban cigar smoke hanging around the ceiling.
"Have a seat," he commanded softly, moving around her to get to the desk. Shaking, she slid down into one of the reception chairs. The vampire reached behind the desk and extracted a manila folder. Rustling around the papers inside he extracted two and placed them before her on the desk. Next he plucked a pen from a holder next to his computer screen and placed it near the papers.
"Will you please sign at the bottom?"
Amara looked up at him, "What is this?"
He stood silent for so long that Amara let her eyes wander to the top of the paper: Marital Union Form B12. Her eyes expanded. Not believing it, she read through the entire document. It was a bunch of legal phrases mashed together with phrases like: 'bound together by law'; 'unbroken except by an order of the court'; and 'Dominic Lucenzia and Amara Brea are to be bond as husband and wife from this day forward'. Amara's face began to melt. She looked up at him again, "What is this?"
"A marriage contract, Miss. Brea," a shadowed figure replied, stepping out of the darkened corner to stand by Dominic. Amara's heartbeat picked up at his appearance. The moonlight shined off his blond waves and extended cuspids.
"Amara, this is Nicholas. He has agreed to be our state witness."
"Then you're serious? What makes you think I'll sign?" Sputtering, Amara had to grab hold of the chair arms to keep control.
"I was hoping you'd sign out of free will and I wouldn't have to force you."
"Why do you want to marry me?'
"It's complicated,"
"I won't sign,"
"Then I will have to take you back and exchange you for your father. I won't be happy at such an inconvenience."
Amara's mind stopped. Her father would die if she didn't marry him. She had already given up her life to him: how much further would she have to go to save her family?
Trembling, she stood up and grabbed the pen by the contract. With a quick twist of wrist, she inked her name once on the first page and twice on the last page of each document. She dropped the pen on the desk, trying to comprehend that she had just been married. Dominic said something, but she didn't hear: her heart was pounding too loud.
Reaching over he took the contracts and the fountain pen and signed as well. When he finished, the man from the corner pulled out a small wooden box from his jacket. From it, he produced a golden stamp and branded the two documents. A maple leaf and two swords lay flat and black on the papers.
"Congratulations. You two are now husband and wife," he said, his honeyed voice dripping with irony. Amara's entire resolve snapped and she fled the room feeling like she was going to be sick.
0-0-0-0-0
Amara spent the next few days in her room. She couldn't face him. Something between hatred and shame kept her in. She hated him for forcing her into marriage, and she was ashamed that she had complied so easily. Why didn't she fight him? That wasn't part of the deal her family had made with him: why should she have to play by new rules?
Something else kept her in as well: fear. Why did he want to marry her? She tried to think of all the reasons people married for: love, money, sex, security, fulfillment…he was a vampire, he couldn't possibly love her and he could just take all the rest. So what did he want her for? The tears streaked her face—this was not how her wedding was supposed to be.
Most of her time was spent in bed trying not to make too much noise—she didn't want him to hear and appear, as he was apt to do. The wind came in three times a day with food. Each time it danced around the bed, displacing her covers and whistling. It seemed to understand the situation though, and usually gave up after a few minutes. Sometimes she ate the food it brought; sometimes she couldn't muster enough humility to get out of bed.
0-0-0-0-0
On the fourth day she was awoken by a knock. The sound aroused her but she didn't comprehend it. A second knock sounded. She sat up more. Dazed, she looked to the left to see a waxing moon slipping in and out of the wispy clouds. The clock on the nightstand said it was eleven. A third knock. There could only be one source. Unsettled she tried to slip back under the covers. She hadn't expected him to come for her so soon.
"Amara?" His smooth voice called from behind the door, "would you like to come out? There's something I want to show you." Amara grimaced—it was probably a nuptial ring. "I think you'll like it." She snuggled deeper under the covers trying to disappear.
"Amara?"
"I'm not coming out!" she yelled, projecting her voice through the blankets.
"I understand," a short pause followed, "but it must be awfully boring in there." Amara started—brooding was boring. She hadn't done anything stimulating in days. But could she just put aside what he had done to her? Her mind thought fast, trying to weigh the consequences of each action. He had played on her one weakness.
"I'll be out in a little bit,"
0-0-0-0-0
Four days of inactivity had left Amara disheveled. Her hair was slick and stuck up on one side and her pajamas weren't faring so well either after four days of crying. Luckily a shower and a change of clothes refreshed her. She felt almost better.
Creeping outside she glanced around. She had been expected him to be waiting outside the door. Slightly annoyed, she walked out the door shutting it with clack. Moving down the stairs she lightly ran her hand down the polished railing, absorbing balance and comfort through her fingertips. At the bottom she looked around the dim foyer wondering where she was supposed to go.
"Good evening," Jumping, Amara grabbed her arms and turned around. She could hardly see him in the dim light. His figure was there though; it was blacker than the night. "I'm glad you came down."
"I didn't come down for you," she told him, moving her arms to cross in front of her chest.
"I know," a long pause ensued, "if you'd follow me, I'd like to show you something." He breezed past her, heading towards the right corridor.
"I'm not falling for that again,"
He rotated slowly towards her, rubbing his chin—as if the concept of her distrust had never occurred to him.
"What if Adelaide or Evangeline showed you the way?"
"Why should I trust them? They were in on it too."
"To an extent. They knew about it, but they disobeyed my orders. I made it very clear they were not to worry you with any abnormal behavior."
Amara pursed her lips. She still wasn't convinced. He sighed, "We won't get anywhere if you don't trust someone,"
Amara straightened her spine trying to appear determined, "I want Adelaide or Evangeline to show me the way."
The vampire bobbed his head and turned towards the staircase, "Adelaide! Evangeline!"
Instantly a breeze picked up by her elbows and started tugging her away down the right corridor. As one drew her along the hall the other danced in-between ruffling her clothes. She giggled at their giddy nature, wondering which was which. "Where are you taking me?" She asked seriously. They only twirled merrily about.
They went down the hall and past a few doors before the winds pulled to a stop outside a set of double doors. Inlaid ivy climbed around the edges of the dark wood, meeting at the top. The bronzed door handles made the entire fixture look as if it had been out in the sun, weathering away.
"Open it," his voice prompted from behind her. Amara's hand reached for the handle and then quickly drew back. What was behind there? What if contrary to Adelaide and Evangeline's reactions it wasn't something good. But then again, nothing could be worse than what had happened a few nights ago. Her palms tingled as they bent the handle downward.
"Oh my…" her breath caught in her throat as a dozen candles flared.
"Do you like it?"
"How could I not?" She replied dashing to the nearest bookcase. Running her fingers over the grainy spines she carefully read the titles: Commedia, Crime and Punishment, A Christmas Carol, The Chimes. They were alphabetical by author and then chronological if the author had more than one work. It was a librarian's greatest dream! Amara's breath slowed as her eyes wandered over the titles. English, French, Russian, Sanskrit, the titles all ran together in a big mash. She had never seen so extensive a library. How did she miss this room? Stepping back, she let her head gently fall back, so that it was nearly perpendicular to her body. The library shelves reached all the way to the ceiling: and they were filled with books. "Where did you get all these books?"
"Before the days of mass marketed book stores it was quite a challenge."
"Is this…oh my gosh it is! You have a first edition print of T.S. Eliot's Prufrock and Other Observations!" Amara pulled the book from it's assigned spot and flipped through the pristine pages, looking for evidence to the contrary.
"That was the hit in London at one time. I had to pay twice its worth just to keep a London banker from getting it and displaying it on his drawing room table."
Amara turned slowly, clutching the book to her chest. "Are you telling me that you were in London in nineteen-ten, when these copies were first distributed?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" He queried smugly, swaggering over to a large, love seat in the middle of the room. In her excitement, she hadn't even noticed the furnishings lounging about.
" Well, for one we're in," pausing, Amara bit her lip, "actually I don't where we are." She had subconsciously assumed they were still in the United States. But what if this was somewhere completely different than what her father had described?
"Canada. Ontario to be exact."
"That's a long way from London,"
"So I couldn't have moved between now and nineteen-ten?"
"No, I—I guess I just expected you to have been here for forever."
"Not forever, but for a very long time. I find the secluded woods serve my purposes better than a crowded city."
"Fair enough," she ended the conversation and turned back to the books. Carefully, she replaced Eliot and went in search of someone else. Her purpose was not only exploration but also escape. The more she moved around the library the less contact she had with him. He was a remarkable character for sure, but he'd also had time to polish his individual. Not to mention unknown powers. She hadn't gone into this situation rationally. She had entered it treating him like a captor and more recently like a villain. While he was both, he was also something more: a vampire.
He was a creature of the night. A blood sucking, controlling, manipulative monster. She should have done some research while she was still at home. Found out weaknesses, strengths, tricks, powers, habits, etc. Then she wouldn't be blindly floundering, trying to keep her emotions and resolves steady. His continual exploitation of her weaknesses proved he had done his research. Why hadn't she done hers? Because secretly she had hoped Aurora was right. Angry and trying to isolate herself, Amara shuffled slowly down the row of books.
By the time she reached Emile Zola at the very end she hit a large glass window. Paned, it extended three-fourths of the way up the spring green walls. Outside she could see the forest swaying to the wind's beat. The trees were completely bare now, waiting for winter's blanket to cover them. Exhaling through her nose, she wondered if she should start back down the row or attempt to begin a novel. Either way, she couldn't go back to him.
"How do you like it?" Without the clank of footsteps, he was by her side, gazing down at her with clever eyes.
"It's the most amazing library I've ever seen," she answered honestly—she couldn't be hostile about books.
"Then consider it your wedding present,"
Her eyes found his face so fast her neck cracked at the turn. "No."
"It'll be yours, for your private use only. No one can enter unless you wish it. That includes me."
"No,"
"I want to give you something. I know you're upset about the marriage…"
"No! It's a buy-off!" His lack of action only confirmed her feelings, "You are trying to take my love for literature and project it onto yourself! That's why I've never seen this room all the times I've wandered around. You hid it! I will not accept this room as a gift. I could never walk in here knowing it was the consolation prize for blackmail!"
"You are putting a kink into every single one of my plans," the calmness in his voice after her tirade frightened her. He was not the least bit affected by her passion: he was completely calmed, cold, and calculating. "I knew you were intelligent, but I never took into account your fervor for philosophy."
"What do you mean?" She quivered, shifting her weight from one foot to the next.
"Your love for books is so great, and your morals so unyielding, that you can't even associate it with me." Amara stared at him, eyebrows rumpled over her eyes and lips pressed tightly together.
"I admire that," he continued, clasping his hands behind his back, "More so because it knocked my values back into place. But still, I cannot leave you with nothing."
"I told you, I will not be bought-off,"
"It's not a buy-off. It's a gift. And it will be your choice. Anything your heart desires that I can physically obtain for you will be yours. Just name it."
"There is nothing you can give me that I want," her throat burned at the acidity of her own words. The tears started to well up, making her world blurry.
"Keep it then. And use it at a later time."
Amara shook her head shaking the tears back into their recesses. "I don't understand the point of this. Why force me into a marriage only to feel bad enough to try and make it up to me? For all the reasons I can think of, none of them match."
"It would be, as you imply, completely unnecessary, except that it adds an additional link of security."
"Security? Security for what?"
"Security against you leaving." Amara's knees gave out, causing her to jerk forward. When she righted herself they were shaking. She hadn't expected to ever leave this place. But his words engraved the fact onto her brain, crushing even the remotest of hopes.
"Wouldn't that be more cause for me to leave?"
"Oh no," he chuckled, his voice low and gruff, "it isn't to keep you from leaving. It's to keep others from removing you."
"That doesn't make sense,"
"Psychologically, no. But legally, it's iron clad."
"I still don't understand. Anyone that came to this place would not stop from removing me just because a piece of paper said we were husband and wife." A picture of her father pounding on the doors with his weathered hands flashed into her mind.
"True, you would be removed to a safe location, as would I. But the government would have no idea what to do with me. They'd be too afraid to kill me, and too afraid to let me go. Naturally it would fall to a trial, and all the pressure would be shifted to a jury and judge. Then a battle would rage over which country the trial would proceed in: for see, you are an American citizen married and on file in Canada. And as that battle rages on, all I have to do is point out that the certificate is authentic, as is your signature, and we will be free to go."
Amara trembled and reached out for the bookcase to steady herself. He had this entire thing planned right down to the last detail. That meant he couldn't just want her for a companion—there had to be something else.
"Why am I here?"
"As I told your father, I am in want of a companion,"
"And you would go this far to get and keep one?" She challenged, scanning over him with sharp eyes. He in turn, pierced her face with grey daggers.
"I don't give up easily on my investments,"
"Your logic makes no sense! There are so many easier ways. It's like Occam's Razor…"
"Which would not be applicable in this situation as none of the desired outcomes would be produced by an 'easier' way." His voice grew stronger with each word, which only made Amara puff up. She was going to get answers this time, even if it killed her.
"What is the 'desired outcome'?"
"It will be morning soon,"
Amara wrenched her head behind her. The deep black of night blanched with grey streaks and the stars were beginning to lose their sparkle. "Why won't you answer any of my questions?" She asked, her voice soft at dawn's approach.
"On the contrary, I've answered many of your questions tonight. Probably more than I should." The curtains behind her rolled together and collided: as did the ones on the far side of the room. The flames on the candles grew into tall yellow figures, casting more light into the newly darkened room. Amara watched the light play off his face, illuminating certain features and hiding others.
"But you didn't answer enough,"
"No," he laughed softly, "and I suspect I never shall." He paused and seemed to regard her in a new manner. "I must retire. Stay as long as you'd like. The kitchen is just down the hall. I'm sure the kitchen staff would be pleased to make you anything you'd like. Good day." Bending at the waist and neck, he swiveled on his foot and exited looking like he was struggling to keep normal pace. Amara watched him leave, her mind churning with questions.
