A/N – Sorry about how late this chapter is, everyone! I had some Internet issues that prevented me from getting on at all yesterday, but better late than never, right? :)
Chapter Nine
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock...
The first thing that Victoria heard was the ticking of a clock, each noise it made creating a pounding sensation in her ears and head. She stirred and groaned, bringing her hand up to rub at her forehead, and she discovered that her skin was like ice. She immediately burrowed under her blankets, willing herself to fall asleep again, if only to get rid of the painful beating in her head. And that's when she became aware of the dull pain in her stomach, traveling up her body and making her feel as though it would cave in on itself.
She heard the footsteps in the hallway before they reached the door of the room she was in; when she heard the creaking of the hinges and the door itself moving across the carpet, her first instinct was to pretend that she was still asleep. Victoria squinted her eyes shut and burrowed deeper into her blankets, listening as the footsteps approached. They stopped. Whoever was in her room reached out and lightly touched her cheek before moving to her hair. Victoria tensed as the person stroked her hair, and when their hand crept to the nape of her neck, she grabbed their wrist. Before she knew it, she had leapt out of bed and pinned the intruder to the wall by his wrist and shoulder.
Barnabas.
She gasped and jumped back from surprise at his visit and shock that she had moved so fast. Her hands covered her mouth and she took another step back from him, her eyes starting to dart around the room.
"Miss Winters," Barnabas said. His voice was slow, soothing, almost, but Victoria didn't pay attention. She was too busy taking in her surroundings. Lacy curtains billowed from the wind coming through an open window, moonlight spilling through the glass, somehow illuminating the otherwise dark room to make Victoria see perfectly. She saw the intricate pattern on her bedspread, the sheer fabric of the canopy. She turned her head and saw the mantle and the small clock that sat upon it, the same clock that woke her and was still making havoc in her ears. Near the mantle was a small stepladder, and above the mantle, there was a portrait. Victoria noticed that it sat slightly crooked, as though it had just been hung, and as her eyes took in the picture, she went still. Josette's portrait.
The room wasn't foreign to her, she realized; she'd been here before, the last time she'd been in this house. Barnabas' words to her about staying in this room rang loudly in her ears, and she took another step away from him, her green eyes widening.
"Miss Winters," Barnabas repeated. "Victoria -"
"Why am I here?" she asked, cutting him off. Her voice sounded thick and dry with sleep; it came out as more of a breathless rasp. She thought she might have spoken louder than she intended, with the way her voice seemed to bounce loudly off of the walls.
Barnabas held out a hand to her. She eyed it reluctantly as he said, "You need to listen to me."
"Why am I here?" Victoria yelled as fury washed over her. She moved quickly again; if Barnabas blinked, he missed it. She grabbed his wrist and twisted it hard, causing him to cry out in pain. The anger ebbed away as suddenly as it came, and Victoria immediately dropped his wrist, jumping away and covering her mouth again. She shook her head. "I'm sorry – I don't know – I didn't -"
Barnabas' wrist hung limply from his arm as he tried to compose himself.
"I'll call a doctor," Victoria said. She turned to hurry away, but Barnabas stopped her.
"Wait," he snapped, and Victoria hesitantly turned back around upon hearing a strange crackling sound. When she looked back down at his wrist, it was back to normal. Barnabas turned it a few times before stretching his fingers and clasping his hands behind his back.
She swallowed hard. "It was true," she said. Victoria looked him straight in the eyes. "Every word I said – it was true." She took another step away.
"I never wanted you to know," Barnabas said, his voice pained. "At the very least, I never wanted you to find out like this."
Victoria stood still, seemingly unable to will herself to move. She shook her head again. "Why am I here?"
"I could think of nowhere else to take you, after..." Barnabas trailed off, and his eyes dropped to the floor.
"After what?" Victoria demanded, watching him closely. A long moment passed and he didn't answer, prompting her to repeat the question. "Barnabas, what?"
He stared up at her. "You haven't realized?"
"Realized...?" Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. Barnabas' eyes quickly darted to her neck. Victoria caught the gaze, and her hand reached up to her pulse. A chill went through her as she felt the punctures on her neck.
"No," she said firmly, but her voice was oddly choked. "No. You're lying." As she took another step back, she felt something in her pocket digging into her skin from the fabric. The rosary. She grabbed the beads and began to pull it out of her pocket, but an intense burning sensation quickly spread up her arm through her fingertips. Victoria yelped in pain and backed into a wall, sliding to the ground as she clutched her hand. Barnabas was instantly by her side, gingerly touching the visible burn until Victoria snatched away from him.
"You'll heal in a moment," Barnabas said softly. Victoria didn't respond, keeping her eyes focused on the ground, her expression icy. Barnabas said, "I didn't want to hurt you, Victoria, you must believe that. I did this to save you."
Victoria tried her best to block him out, but his presence was too much and she began to cringe away from him. "I don't care," she snapped. She made to stand up, to get away from him, but her stomach twisted horribly, causing her to double over and cry out in pain.
"Of course. You're hungry." Victoria could practically hear the smile in Barnabas' voice, and dread immediately filled her as he stood up and walked to the door. She watched as he returned a moment later, leading a middle-aged man by the arm. The man stared straight ahead, blank-eyed and slack-jawed, and Victoria felt another pang in her stomach. Suddenly, she realized what he was there for, and she had to look away.
"No," she said.
"Victoria, please," Barnabas said. He led the man to a chair by the mantle. "Resisting now will only make it harder."
"I don't care."
"You'll starve."
Victoria could hear the desperation in his voice, and she couldn't help but relish in it. "Good," she spat. "I'd rather that than -" she didn't get to complete the thought as her stomach twisted again, causing her to cry out again. Again, Barnabas was beside her, and before she knew it, she was letting him pull her up by her arm, and closer to the man. Then, he left her side, turning away from her. She looked at the man, still staring straight ahead, expressionless, and suddenly her hunger was too much to control. She opened and closed her fists, trying to manage herself, before finally gripping onto the armrest of the man's chair to steady herself. Her vision was going in and out of focus, she was picking up on smells that she hadn't moments before, and her mind seemed to be filled with the sounds and smells and the idea of his blood.
She tore her eyes away from the man almost painfully, staring at Barnabas. She squinted her eyes shut, trying to block out any need that she might have right now, and she asked in a small voice, "Who is he?"
"I don't know," Barnabas replied. "I didn't ask. I didn't want to know. He's from the Blue Whale – I've compelled him to make this easier for you."
Victoria stared at Barnabas, ready to protest, but then she looked back at the man. The disorientation from a moment before returned, and she couldn't stop herself. A beat passed, and then Victoria had her teeth in his throat. The man went without a sound, offering his blood to her, and she was more than willing to accept it. As she fed, the disorientation began to fade, and she began to regain control of her senses. The idea of what was happening actually hit her, but there was nothing she could do. She wanted to scream, she wanted to wretch, she wanted to hide, but she couldn't stop herself. It was too much for Victoria to handle, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.
"It will become easier," Barnabas said, as though he could sense Victoria's thoughts. "There's no other way around it, and it takes time, but it won't always be like this."
Victoria's eyes flicked to him, but she said nothing, keeping her mouth at the man's throat as blood continued to flow.
"It isn't always horrible," Barnabas continued. There was something in his voice, a tone that suggested that he might be trying to convince himself of that. At the same time, there was a strange sort of relief. "We can be happy together. I promise. You won't be alone. You've nothing to worry about, my darling Josette."
Victoria stopped.
She stood up straight, blood smeared over her face, the now dead man slumping and falling from the chair.
Barnabas stared at her, apparently oblivious to his mistake, and she marched toward him, green eyes blazing with fury, and she shoved him. He flew into the wall, the force breaking it with a loud crack. He yelled out, but Victoria only stood there, her arms going limp at her sides. Barnabas yelled out apologies, but she wouldn't listen. She shook her head, shaking as she tried to control herself, but a moment later, she fled.
o o o
Victoria shrugged on the old gray sweatshirt, letting it cover up the bloodstained shirt that she wore. She used the sleeve to wipe the water off of her face, praying that she'd gotten all of the blood off. After running away from the Old House, Victoria had wandered aimlessly until she found herself along the highway leading to Collinwood, where she had found her car. She had no idea how it had gotten there, or why it was there, or why there were several large dents in it, along with the driver's side mirror missing, but she had managed to salvage the sweatshirt from the back seat. Then, without thinking, she'd listlessly made her way to the beach, where she now stood, taking in the waves and the moonlight and the night air.
The memory hit her like a shot in the head: she couldn't have been more than six years old when she stood with her father and brother on that very beach and watched the sun rise, lightening up the sky from black and coloring it with violets and pinks and oranges, blinding lights bouncing off of the water before. It wasn't the memory that brought so much sadness to her in that moment, it was the fact that she'd never experience beauty like that again. It had been taken from her without her knowledge, without her permission. The decision had been made for her, and Victoria knew that it was the wrong one.
She was jolted out of her thoughts by a loud beep coming from her pocket. She frowned and reached into it, pulling out her cell phone. It currently flashed a low battery warning at her, and she sighed, realizing that she hadn't thought to check it before. Before the phone powered down, she read the time. It was only a bit past ten, far earlier than she had expected.
At Collinwood, they would want to know that she was alright, Victoria thought. She tried not to dwell on how she really wasn't, but as she began to walk away from the beach, she thought that perhaps she could hide it. Perhaps they might overlook it. Perhaps she could tell someone. Roger had helped her a surprising amount in the last few weeks; perhaps he would come through for her again.
Only moments later, she found herself standing on the front stoop of Collinwood. It caught Victoria off guard; she still wasn't used to how quickly she moved now. It seemed that she would have to put in effort to move at a normal pace. She sighed, shook her head, and knocked on the door, taking great care not to accidentally break it in.
A moment later, Elizabeth answered the door, and when she saw Victoria, she stood still.
"Missus Stoddard," Victoria said quietly.
"Vicki," Elizabeth shook her head and opened the door wider, ushering Victoria inside. "What are you doing here?"
Victoria blinked and frowned. "Coming home," she said.
Elizabeth led her across the foyer to the drawing room. "The doctors decided you were well enough to go?"
"Doctors?" Victoria asked. Elizabeth paused at the door to the drawing room, giving her a frown before leading her in.
The first person that Victoria noticed was Willie Loomis, his face going visibly paler when he saw her. He was holding a drink, and she noticed that his hand began to shake.
"Miss Winters," he said, voice trembling. "You – you got out of the hospital early."
She gave him a questioning look, but behind Elizabeth's back he glared at her and nodded firmly. She laughed hesitantly.
"Early?" Victoria asked. "The nurses told me I'd be out by now. There was nothing really wrong with me." She started to brush her hair over her shoulder, but remembered the wounds on her neck. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt.
"That's very odd," Elizabeth commented. "Mister Loomis and Barnabas both visited the hospital, and every time they were told that you weren't well enough to see."
Victoria cleared her throat, averting her eyes from Elizabeth. "There must have just been some kind of miscommunication," she said. "Either that, or they were taking precautions." To distract herself from the awkward moment, she began to look around the room, and her eyes fell on Roger, sitting on the sofa. He sipped at a drink of his own, glancing at Victoria with a steely look. She looked away immediately.
"Nevertheless, we're glad to have you back," Elizabeth said with a smile. She tried to ease Victoria into a chair, but she stepped away.
"I'm actually still very tired," she explained. "Is – is it alright if I go upstairs?"
"Of course," Elizabeth said. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to let us know."
Victoria managed a small smile. "I won't. Thank you, Missus Stoddard." Then, she left the drawing room and hurried across the foyer and up the staircase. When she was safely inside her room, she closed her door and locked it, moving to lay down on her bed. She hadn't turned on her lamp, but she could see the stack of books sitting on her desk perfectly. She knew that she really hadn't been gone very long, but so much had happened that she was surprised that her room still seemed like she had never left.
After a few moments of laying in the darkness, Victoria heard a knock on her door. She sat up, turned on the lamp, and opened the door to see Roger standing there, his arms crossed.
"Where were you?" he asked immediately. He stepped around her to enter her room, and she frowned.
"I was in the hospital," she said. "Where else would I have been?"
"What for?" Roger arched an eyebrow at her, and she looked away. Victoria bit her lip, trying to think of something plausible, and then it hit her: her car wrecked and in the woods. Willie and Barnabas had probably put it there to add credibility to this story.
"I crashed my car," Victoria explained.
"Where were you going?"
Victoria glared, her frown growing more prominent as she tried to keep her anger under control. "How is that any of your business?"
Roger looked offended, but Victoria could tell that it was clearly an act. "I'm only asking out of concern, Miss Winters."
She turned away from him. "I'm fine now. You don't have anything to be concerned about."
A beat passed before he said, "I called the hospital, actually. They said they had no records for you."
She froze. "They probably misheard you."
"I found your purse out back. On the terrace," he said, and then he was dangling the bag in front of her. She grabbed the back from him and winced, knowing what else he had found if he had been on the terrace.
Roger didn't miss a beat. "There was something else quite interesting that I found."
"What was that?" Victoria widened her eyes, hoping that it made her look more innocent and questioning than worried.
"Blood."
The word hung in the air, making Victoria bite her lip.
"What?" she asked.
"Blood, Miss Winters," he repeated, and she could hear him pacing a few steps behind her. "Quite a lot of it, too, spilled over several bricks."
"That's – unsettling," she said. She didn't dare risk turning around to face him.
"Indeed." Roger paused suddenly. "You don't have an idea of where it came from, do you?"
"Just because I left my purse out there?" Victoria tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and nervous. "Of course not. But I'll look into it."
"You're sure?" Roger sounded quieter this time, almost gentle, and Victoria had to force herself to resist the strong urge to tell him everything. What if he tried to kill her himself? No, no matter the circumstances, she wouldn't let him know.
"Mister Collins, please, I'm very tired," she insisted, finally turning in his direction. She hastily made her way to the door and opened it. "I said I'll look into it, and I will."
Roger stood still for a long moment. Finally, he sighed and shook his head and made his way to the door, glancing at Victoria on his way out. "Forgive me for bothering you, Miss Winters."
Victoria said nothing as he left, but watched him walk down the hall for a long moment before finally shutting her door again, making sure to lock it, trying to assure herself that she had made the right decision a moment ago.
