Chapter 11:
I've been hungover before, many times. I'm no saint. Back at the academy, I partied hard. Must be my mother's side of the family coming out. And I always loved it. So I know what a hangover feels like. But as I wake up (a day later Stan informs me.) I feel just as I would after a party, except for the fact that this feels some much more sickly and awful.
I can't even see straight, my vision is blurry and I feel drained of all energy. I couldn't care less what happens to me know, just that this feeling of shaky-dizziness goes away.
You know when your going to or have to thrown up? Yeah, my whole body feels as though it's been violently retching for hours.
When I first opened my eyes, I thought, I've made it to heaven. Everything was rimmed with bright, white light and blurry. But then my vision started to vaguely get better and my painting of hell comes into view. Dreaming, I thought, I want to be dreaming. But no, as The Rolling Stones say, You Can't Always Get What You Want. I don't know how many times I've knocked on my dad's door at the academy and hearing that song playing through out the room. In my opinion, my dad's a cowboy who is still stuck in the 80's. I remember telling my mum that and then her laughing.
My heart aches at the thought of my mum. I barely get to see her, a couple of times a year maybe, which, in the case of other dhampirs is pretty good, but I'm sure by know that the academy is worried about us, which means so is my dad which will or has resulted in him calling her and telling her about it and his worries. Guilt riddles my body at the thought of my dad worrying. His so strong, mentally and physically. He would face down a whole army of stringoi for me and my mum. No, I say firmly, you will not cry. I set my jaw and grit my teeth, swallowing the huge knot in my throat.
Stan and Sam are awake, and I see new bite marks on both their necks. Dark shadows lay present under their eyes, their skin looking stark and pale. Both look like they haven't eaten yet. I hear a growling sound and realise that it came from Sam.
"Do you think if I ask they'll give you some food?" I ask shyly, thinking if the answer's wrong it'll make me look stupid and inexperienced. But Sam smiles at me sadly, shaking his head. I look towards Stan, but he's looking down at his lap, trying to roll his shoulders. Both of them must be aching, having their arms tied behind them. "What are we going to do?" I ask absently. My eyes travel to the body cherubs that are painted on the ceiling. They look upon me with straight, sweet expressions. If they could talk, I wonder what other horrors they've witness in this room.
"Your necks," I start shyly. "They can't keep doing that to you if your not eating. You'll die eventually." I sigh, "And I don't want to lose either of you. Especially to any of them." Stan looks up at my words. He smiles dryly at me, almost grimacing. "I will not have either of you dying on me. Not here. Both of you can die heroes in a war, or when you're old and sick and in bed." Sam tries his best to give me a smile. "Not here." I repeat.
Even just speaking for a matter of two minutes is tiring. I need food, not just for me but for the guardians. Maybe if Marion comes in again, I can ask her then. Looking down at myself, seeing that the hair on my legs is slowly growing back.
Finding the strength to say one last thing, I ask: "While I was... Sleeping did anyone else... Come in and...?" I leave the question hanging in the air. Sam, after a dramatically long pause, nods his head. Well, what was I expecting?
I want it fall back into myself and sleep for a long, long time. And eventually I do and, surprisingly enough, dream.
I'm in Greece. I don't know how I know that but I do. I'm looking down on the bright blue roves of houses below me with the soft sounds of the ocean drifting up from further down the shoreline. It's beautiful and quiet, just me standing in the sun. I feel it's warm rays flowing down onto my face and chest. A gentle breeze picks up and lifts the tank top I'm wearing. Looking down on myself I notice I'm only wearing thin cotton shorts and some flat, strapy sandals. I look relaxed and pretty, the colour of the shorts bringing out my tanned skin I inherited from my mother.
"Don't you look beautiful." A familiar voice sounds behind me. The sun seems to burn brighter and warmer as I turn around and see my aunty, Lissa. I jump at her and nearly topple her over. I hug her, harder than I've ever hugged anyone, never been so relieved to see someone I love. I realise now that this is a spirit dream. According to Uncle Adrian, it took Lissa years to master.
Aunty Lissa looks so elegant in a long flowing dress that sways as she walks and brushes her ankles. Around her waist, she wears a belt of gold and in her platinum blond hair is a golden crown. If she weren't so pale, I would've thought she looked like a Mediterranean princess. Or queen.
We stare at each other for a few seconds, smiling, before her face changes into something I've seen many times. It's the face she gets when she addresses her parliament with an issue or resolve. When she stands and speaks, she draws the room in. Even if she was just talking about dirt, she would talk about it with such heart and passion that the room would stop what they're doing just to listen.
She walks me forward to where I was standing, looking out at the bright blue ocean, holding my hand in hers. We don't speak for a moment when she breaks the silent: "Your mum is so worried about you, Greta. Hell, I am too." She begins. She turns to face me. "Where are you, Greta?" Aunty Lissa's face is creased with worry. "We can help you if you can tell me." I look at her astounded.
"You think I wouldn't tell you?" I say. "I don't actually know where I am. All I know is that I'm somewhere near the boarded of South Carolina."
"How long have you been there for?" She asks fretfully.
"I'm not sure how long it's been. Near a week Stan tells me. Sometime last week, we were taken by stringoi. I was sleeping and I heard banging so I went to look. I couldn't find anyone in the house. I went searching. And Stan wasn't at his post so I thought something must be wrong. And sure enough, stringoi had taken the house and gagged and bound the guardians. I killed one of them. But we're out numbered nearly ten to one. I wanted to do something, I did. I tried, I really did." My eyes well with tears. "They threw us around and I got knocked out, and I pretty much ended up at this huge house with Sam and Stan." Oh my God. "They're starving them," I wail. "Both guardians haven't eaten since we were at the house and the stringoi they're feeding off them and..."
I leave my words hanging in the air between us. Aunty Lissa doesn't say anything but her head tilts, her eyes cast down to my neck. They widen and quickly look back up at mine.
"And?" When I look at the ground, she puts both her hands on my shoulders. I flinch. "Greta, you need to tell me." She says frantically, lifting my face up with her finger.
"They, the stringoi, have bitten me too. Several times. And they..." My voice catches. "They, um, they've been raping me. They make the guardians watch. And I wake up with knew bite marks on me every day." Silence hangs between us for a second.
"Why?" She asks her voice sounding uneven. "They would usually just kill they're victims. Not take them hostage and... And do that."
"They said whatever hurts me hurts my dad." I say angrily. My anger isn't directed at my aunt and I hope she sees that. She smiles at me sadly, putting a hand on my cheek.
"Greta, look at me." She says. I lift my eyes to her jade green ones. "Your mother and father have done so much for me and I could never repay them for what they have done for me and Christian. Nor any other guardians who have protected me and my family over the years." She pauses a moment. "For you, for your mother and father, I would scourer the whole of South Carolina until I find you. I would look all over the world for you if it meant that your mother and father had you back. That I had you back."
I don't realise I've begun crying until Aunty Lissa begins wiping away my tears. She gathers me into her arms and hugs me as I cry into her shoulder.
"Please don't do anything irrational." I whisper into her hair. She nods slowly. We break apart and stare back out to the glistening Greek isles. I stop crying. The sun had begun to set and I sigh. "Thank you for bringing me here." I say peacefully. I feel at total ease, something I haven't felt in the last week.
"I didn't choose where we were. I let you do that." She says slowly. "And you chose here. In Greece. Have you ever been here before?" She asks curiously.
"No," I say wistfully. "But I've always wanted to come, to see the blue roves and ocean. I always wanted a picture of my family standing here. Just us. Something I could keep forever, of just us. It would be so... Normal." My voice is soft and light, thinking of my parents.
"Where else would you like to go?" Lissa asks me.
"India, as in the jungle. And Switzerland, to the Alpes. France." I answer. "There are so many places in this world I would love to visit. Venice, Brazil, Egypt."
"Not very picky are you." Lissa laughs. I smile truly for what feels like the first time in ten years. "Tell you what, when you get back I'll take you to the place we're standing all the way to the Amazon rainforest." My smile gets bigger.
"You don't have to do that. Besides its really expensive, I'm not worth that much." Lissa looks shocked at my words.
"You are worth more than a billion trips around the world. Worth more than anything, Sweetheart. Please don't forget that, not now." She hugs me again and we just stand for a while, watching the sun go down, turning the icy blue water to a beautiful gold.
Before the sun is completely gone, I turn back to my aunt. I'm about to say something when everything goes shaky.
"What's happening?" I cry in panic. Lissa holds my forearms in her hands but I can already feel her touch fading. I grab onto what I can of her, but she's turning to dust before my very eyes.
"Your being woken up." She answers far less calm than normal.
"No!" I scream. "I don't want to leave. Don't make me disappear. Please." My voice sounds so faint and weak. Before she's gone, Aunty Lissa says to me frantically:
"We're coming to get you. Don't worry."
My eyes shoot open I scream as pain stabs through my arms. Two leering faces of stringoi I don't know are hovering over mine. I realise they've cut my binds, both on my ankles and wrists. Pulling me up into sitting position roughly, I feel a wave of dizziness wash over me. It doesn't ebb away quickly and when it does it leaves an intense and painful aching in my head. Instinctively, it try to lift one of my hands to rub my temples but when I do I feel the iron grip around my arms get harder. The stringoi holding me violently twists my arm is a funny direction. I hear something crack and I cry out in agony. The stringoi twists it further and my arm cracks again. I scream. God, it hurts so much. "Please," I beg him. "Please stop. My arm... It's braking."
"Stop what?" The stringoi asks innocently. "This?" He twists my arm again and I scream out. He hold my arm there for a few seconds before bringing it back to my side.
"Stop it, Drake." Says the other stringoi. "The more you damage her, the more likely you are to be killed out if spite." Drake shoots dangers at his companion but let's my arm go.
"Please let go of me." I say to the other stringoi. I look at his pale face. He scowls at me.
"I do not take orders from a blood whore." The term 'blood whore' hits me like a slap in the face. I know my mother had been called one before but I never have.
"But you do from Nazareth and Cornelius, don't you?" I say boldly. I stare him down, never wavering. The stringoi growls at me, baring his fangs.
"If the blood whore wants you to let her go, what more can you do?" Drake sneers at his partner. Letting me go with another growl, the stringoi get off the bed. Immediately, my non-broken arm cradles my broken one. It looks twisted and disjointed. It throbs as my body tries to repair itself. Dhampirs and Moroi heal quicker than humans but a break will still take at least four weeks to right itself. And I don't believe the stringoi are going to bind my wounds like they bound my limbs to the bed.
Walking ahead of me, the two stringoi walk forward and force the huge doors open. "Wait," I say. Both stringoi turn instantly with an annoyed expression. "What about them?" I point to the guardians bound to their chairs. I hear them snigger.
"Don't worry." Nameless says. "You'll be coming back very soon." The stringoi turn back towards the open door and I catch the first glimpse of the space outside of this one. Instead of rich, deep red carpet the floor turns to a cold, hard white marble. The room, much like the bedroom, is spacious and huge. Airy and filled with light.
Maybe ten metres in front of me in what I believe to be a staircase. On opposite sides of the room are two huge, floor to ceiling glass windows, letting in the sun. Wait, sun? I watch amazed and horrified as the stringoi pass by it without even a hint of pain or discomfort. "The window pains have been doubled glazed and been modified to still let in light but shield us from the sun's actual rays. Intelligent, isn't it?" Drake says.
"'Intelligent' isn't the word I'd use." I say meekly.
"Well, my little whore, what word should you use?" Nameless asks me. I sigh.
"'Idiotic' is the word I would use."
"Why?" Drake questions.
"Because it would be so easy for the glass to break and for actual sunlight to come in and obliterate you."
"Won't happen," Drake says simply. "As well as filtering it's also bullet proof and reinforced. So, there's no way to get in or out apart from the front door."
"Where are you taking me?" I ask angrily. I was contemplating my chance of escape by jumping out the window but now that chance has gone down to about zero. Damn bullet proofing.
The stringoi don't answer me straight away. They lead me to the foot of the staircase and begin to push me up it. I'm still stark naked and really I don't particularly want my ass in their faces. Lightly clutching my broken arm to my chest, I try and shield myself from the prying eyes of the stringoi on the bottom floor and the ones coming down the stairs. There really must be a lot of them here.
I stop at the midway part of the stairs and look out thought the huge window flanked by heavy looking cream curtains. Outside, the grounds look huge and I've only seen what is probably a minuscule part of them. Where it ends, starts a dark hedge of trees that must lead into a forest. It must go from one end of the estate to the other. Behind me, the stringoi push me back on course and we continue out ascent up the stairs.
It gets darker up here. Leading me forward, Nameless and Drake walk me towards huge oak doors. Pushing them open, they creak. Shoving me in first, the stringoi close the door after them. The scene reminds me of some James Bond film. Everything looks so much like a rich, old man's office. The rich, burgundy curtains are pulled shut with only a tiny bit of light filtering through them. A long desk stands in front of me and a huge leather chair behind it, turned away from me. A bookcase is sitting proudly behind the chair and desk. Really, I'm expecting a Bond villian to turn around, stroking a cat and say "I've been expecting you, Miss Belikov."
In one corner of the room, a huge fire burns brightly. It provides the only real light in the room. If I weren't in a house full of stringoi, I would've found it comfy and cozy.
Like the chair, against a wall is a longish burgundy, leather couch. There are no pillows or cushions on it. A familiar and sinister voice fills the room, decidedly German accented.
"Sit her down," it says. The stringoi follow their master's orders, pushing me forward until I topple over on to the couch. I must have been sweating because I feel the couch stick to me a little, sending little pin pricks of pain through my skin.
The chair turns and there sits Cornelius. He, sadly, isn't stroking a cat. Animals don't like stringoi. Like dhampires, they must sense some kind of predator in them. If my arm weren't broken, I would've wrapped my arms around myself much more tightly. "There is no need to be modest, my girl." Cornelius says quietly. "I've seen many women in my five hundred years. It's nothing I haven't seen before."
"That doesn't mean I want you to see it." I spit spitefully. My voice is so full of hate for him and the other two. It sounds so unlike me. I hate being angry, I like having control over myself, another thing I inherited from my dad. I try and channel his calm but it won't come.
"You have some bite in you, don't you? A fire. Like your mother." Cornelius gets up. "You look like her, you know. But your fathers jaw and eyes."
"What would you know about my mother and father?" My voice raises slightly.
"Enough." Her says simply. "I never met either of your parents. It's sad actually. Your father was due to meet me a week or so after he was returned to his dhampir state. I hear that he gained many allies as a stringoi, and then many more enemies when he changed back."
I don't quite know what to say. I've heard this all before form Nazareth, I don't need to hear it from Cornelius too. I don't want to stay silent so I speak up.
"Why am I here?" I ask tiredly. "If I'm here for worthless chit-chat, I would like to be taken back to my room." I begin to get up. "Also, me and my guardians haven't eaten for nearly a week. If you keep feeding off us and not give us food, they'll die. And so will I. Then your leverage will be gone." I walk to the doors. I find it funny that no one has tried to stop me.
I'm about to push the doors open when Cornelius's voice booms: "Get back her now, Girl!" I don't feel fear nor any other emotion, but there's something in his voice that makes me turn around. I see anger blazing in his eyes. I couldn't care less. Which isn't good, seeing as he's a half-a-millennium-year-old stringoi. "You will to turn your back on me!" He seethes. Walking towards me in long, striking steps, Cornelius grips my arms hard. My broken one screams in agony, but I refuse to show any sign of pain. "I called you here for a reason. Now, I don't like you, nor your family. But you are going to call your father and you are going to tell him where you are." He eyes glow brightly as he speaks.
"But I don't know where I am." I say defiantly. I stare Cornelius down and he growls.
"Chesnee." He howls at me. Chesnee isn't very big. I would've thought to feed they would've been somewhere more populated. But no, there in a town with the population of less than nine hundred. Funny.
"I don't have a phone to call him." I say through clenched teeth. Sighing and regaining his composure, Cornelius turns back the desk and picks up what I presume to be a phone. It is. Cornelius turns back around and chucks it at me. I catch it as best I can with one hand and dial my dad's number.
It rings a couple of times before I hear "Guardian Belikov." Dad sounds different since the last time I talked to him. He sounds stressed and angry and anxious. I feel a sob rise.
"Dad," I speak in Russian so that the other stringoi can't understand what I'm saying. There's silence on the other end, but I hear a faint sob type sound. "Papa." I say quietly. "Please answer me," I whisper, my voice cracking. "Please."
"Greta," he murmurs. I still hear his soft crying through the phone. He sniffs, righting himself. There's no back ground noise other than a soft murmur that wasn't from my father. "Oh, Greta." He sighs. "I'm going to come and get you, Beautiful." He speaks in English but I can hear his accent coming out strongly as he talks. "Where are you?"
"Chesnee." I say, no longer in Russian. "On the South Carolina boarder." I hear a muffled sound on the other end, and I think it might be my dad slumping against a wall.
"I'm coming to get you, Greta." He repeats with so much love and relief. "I'm going to bring you back to the academy." I sob to the phone.
"No," I say switching back to Russian. "There are are at least a hundred stringoi here and all of them are old. Centuries old. They all want you head on a spike and your blood pooling around your dead body." I hate saying this to him. It sounds so final, my words, like there is no way it is possible for him to come for me and survive at the same time.
"I don't care, Greta." His voice raises slightly and I can't tell whether its from anger or despair. "I would go to the ends of the earth to get you back." He says and tears well in my eyes.
"Lissa came to me in a dream before." I mumble into the phone.
"I know." Dad says. "She called me a couple of minutes ago." I sob. That means she told him everything I told her. I sob again and I feel a tear sliding down my cheek. "Fight them, Greta." He tells me passionately. I cry harder.
"I can't. They bind me to the bed when they do it. I can't move." I sniffle and wipe my eyes.
"How many times has it happened?" He whispers.
"Once when I was conscious, and another two times when I wasn't." I add. "They bite me too. Everyday." I clench my jaw tightly as I hold back more tears and sobs.
"Greta, listen to me." He tells me desperately. "I need you to stay strong for me. For you mother too. She's coming down from court to help with the search. We've let the academy in South Carolina know as well. St. Seraphina's. Please, stay strong. We're coming to get..." The phone is ripped from my hands and Cornelius taps something on it, putting it on speaker. The two stringoi grabs my arms roughly and I cry out in pain as they twist them. My already broken one screams in pure, white-hot agony. I scream along with it.
"You hear that, Guardian Belikov." Cornelius sneers into the phone. "That's the sound of your beloved daughter crying out in excruciating pain." They twist my arm again. I hear no more snaps but the vexatious feelings going through my arm is unbearable. "Everyday you don't come, the more she will hurt. And believe me, I have no end to my list of torture she will endure."
The stringoi twist again and something does crack and shift in my shoulder. Not only have they severely broken my arm, they've also dislocated my shoulder. If anything, it hurts more than my newly dismembered bone. I scream again.
"Please," I beg them, forgetting my dad for a second. "It hurts. Please," I whimper like a puppy writhing in pain. "I beg you, please." I say desperately. Cornelius nods and I fall to the floor with a thud. I don't try to break my fall, so I fall flat on my face, crying.
"You know what we want." Cornelius sneers into the phone, looking down at me. "You have a very beautiful daughter, Guardian Belikov. And I assure you, that beauty will not be wasted. The longer she stays, the hungrier my stringoi I become. They want a taste of her. I, myself, have already had that pleasure. And there are many more of us who are waiting for their turn. I've heard, in more ways than one, how well she blossoms in their mouths. I'm sure I will want another taste of her soon." His eyes bore into mine. "Very soon."
"You will not touch her!" My dad growl viciously. He speaks in English, his voice loud and intense. Grabbing me by the throat, Cornelius lifts me up, my feet dangling in mid air. I clutch at his wrist, trying to pry his hand off me. I gasp for air that won't make it down to my lungs.
"Can't...breathe." I splutter. "Please, let me go... Can't..." I gasp out, feeling my head go dizzy. "... Breathe." My vision fills with black stars and my head aches. Then I'm back on the floor with a thud. I cough and gasp for air and I'm relieved when it enters my lungs. My non broken arm comes up to my throat instinctively. I just lie there, at Cornelius's feet, not moving.
"She's here, in a large house. One of the first you see when you first enter Chesnee from the west. There's a long drive way, flanked with tall hedges. You can't miss it." And Cornelius hangs up the phone.