Disclaimer: ok, so I really don't have 8 toes. But wouldn't it be cool?
~Ch 5~
The nightmares were the worst. The first time it happened, Diana was actually in the room. She was cleaning up the vomit that had arrived after she first tried to feed Angelo. It started low, a whimpering in the back of his throat, as his breath quickened and he started to move weakly. She looked up at him with attentiveness, and her brow creased as he muttered in his sleep. "..maman.." she caught, but most of the words were incoherent. Washing her hands, she laid one on top of his forehead. She smoothed back his sweat-soaked hair with the other, and he relaxed and even smiled a little. "Merci, maman," she heard him murmur as he fell asleep again.
Diana frowned as she watched him slip deeper into sleep. He was not getting better as quickly as he should be. She could almost believe that he had been without food for some time. He had certainly acted like it when she fed him some of the soup she had made. After finishing the cleaning, she went back to the kitchen, where she had stocked the food that had been in the boxes. She pawed through the cupboards. The only thing left to try would be gruel and milk---there was plenty of condensed milk, and she was lucky that the water continued to work after the wall had collapsed.
Once she had gotten the place lit well enough, it astounded her. There had been another, smaller room: a library, stocked with all sorts of books, comfortable chairs, and even a small pianoforte. The only rooms that had been untouched by the wreckage caused by apparently a mob going through it (most likely the mob that Carlotta had described) were the bedroom Angelo was now in and the library. Diana was glad---her clan didn't have much in the way of books, and she was a voracious reader. Sometimes her papa had even laughed at her about it---"My little Nose-in-a-Book," he teased. "If you got your nose bitten off, no one would ever know." That was, of course, before he had begun her training in earnest.
She had slung up a hammock between two bookshelves, using some fallen masonry to keep it in place. Once she had moved enough of the rocks out of the way she planned to move it to the entrance so she could breathe the fresh air as she was sleeping. The next nightmare, less than five hours after the other one, sent her tumbling out of the hammock, the slim knife she had found ready.
It was a cry of anguish that echoed through the underground chambers. Tucking the knife in the soft rope belt of her pantaloons, she made her way to the bedroom. The fire she had created earlier made her feel thankful she was just wearing a camisole and her undergarments. The angelo had thrown off most of the covers, his shirt darkened with sweat, yet when she touched his hands, she found they were freezing. With a cry of "Away, child!" he yanked his hand out from hers. But a heartbeat later, he snatched it up again. "Oh, Christine," he said, grasping her hand harshly in his. "I am so sorry, cherie. Forgive me. Please forgive me. Don't leave me." His strong fingers nearly crushed her hands in his earnestness, and she saw he was still asleep. She had to do something that would let him release her. Finally she placed her hand on top of his, and said quietly, "I know you didn't mean it. I won't leave you. I'll never leave you." His mouth dropped open in wonder, and a look of utter bliss crossed his face. "Shhhh," she said, stroking his hand as it still held hers in a death grip. "You must rest now. Regain your strength. I must---" her mind searched for a way out. What did she know of this Christine? "I must finish my practicing. I will be here when you wake." She hoped that would work.
It did. The angelo relaxed his grip on her hand. He nodded slightly. "Work for greater stability above the staves," he said, apparently trying to sound like a well person. "Your high D is not what it should be." He fell back against the pillows. "Will you really be here?" he said in a whisper. "I fear this is a dream."
Diana paused. What could she say to that? It was in fact a dream. Apparently Mlle Daee was off somewhere married to a comte. She would not be here. She would not be coming back. All what the angelo had here was her, Diana. This would not be good enough. Diana bit her lip. Finally: "I will always be in your heart, my angel."
She didn't even know if he had heard her. He was asleep again, stretched out along the bed. She pulled up the blankets around him and left the room, wondering how long this would go on.
The gods themselves couldn't have answered her question. The angelo continued to have nightmares for the next few days. Diana got quite accustomed to listening for his unsettled moans so she could catch them before they turned into full-fledged cries. At one point she recognized his nightmare---it was of the Robello wagon train. She caught that one almost before it started. "No, no," she said, stroking his hair quietly. "Remember? You escaped. They are all dead. There was a child---"
"A little girl," he said, calming a bit before breathing hard again. "I must run, before they catch me. They're all alike---"
"They are not," Diana said hotly, but quietly. "The Robello clan was a blight among our--their people. One bad apple can taint the entire barrel. They had to be stopped before people everywhere thought of the rrom as pests in need of extermination. They did not intend to catch you and place you in a cage again. You were a distraction, a much-needed one, so that the other clan could creep in unnoticed and 'clean house'. Had you stayed, you would have been an honored guest for as long as you wanted. It is up to us to help repair the damage that others have done." She glanced down at him, and saw that he had faded to deeper sleep again. A faint line had appeared in his scarred and twisted forehead, between his eyebrows as he attempted to take in this new information, but even as she watched it faded as he relaxed again.
The next few days were much the same. Most of the time he was next to unconscious when she managed to feed him, but the gruel and porridge stayed down. Part of the wall collapsed again as she was moving the rocks, and the resulting frustration and sense of claustrophobia almost sent her into a panic attack, which was averted only by a nightmare that was, for once, convenient. By the time she was finished calming his thrashing form, (which had been harder as he had become stronger), the feeling had almost passed and she was able to start again. And he was getting stronger. When she woke him up to feed him, he had a little more coherency in him, even though he was still, to all purposes, useless to the world. Then it happened.
She pushed open the door to the terribly pink bedroom with her hip, her hands loaded with the tray of food. The bed before her was starkly empty, the blankets thrown to one side. As her glance darted to the rest of the room, a long cold hand wrapped inhuman fingers around her neck. "What do you believe you are doing here, mademoiselle?" asked a voice, dark and warm as silk velvet.
~Ch 5~
The nightmares were the worst. The first time it happened, Diana was actually in the room. She was cleaning up the vomit that had arrived after she first tried to feed Angelo. It started low, a whimpering in the back of his throat, as his breath quickened and he started to move weakly. She looked up at him with attentiveness, and her brow creased as he muttered in his sleep. "..maman.." she caught, but most of the words were incoherent. Washing her hands, she laid one on top of his forehead. She smoothed back his sweat-soaked hair with the other, and he relaxed and even smiled a little. "Merci, maman," she heard him murmur as he fell asleep again.
Diana frowned as she watched him slip deeper into sleep. He was not getting better as quickly as he should be. She could almost believe that he had been without food for some time. He had certainly acted like it when she fed him some of the soup she had made. After finishing the cleaning, she went back to the kitchen, where she had stocked the food that had been in the boxes. She pawed through the cupboards. The only thing left to try would be gruel and milk---there was plenty of condensed milk, and she was lucky that the water continued to work after the wall had collapsed.
Once she had gotten the place lit well enough, it astounded her. There had been another, smaller room: a library, stocked with all sorts of books, comfortable chairs, and even a small pianoforte. The only rooms that had been untouched by the wreckage caused by apparently a mob going through it (most likely the mob that Carlotta had described) were the bedroom Angelo was now in and the library. Diana was glad---her clan didn't have much in the way of books, and she was a voracious reader. Sometimes her papa had even laughed at her about it---"My little Nose-in-a-Book," he teased. "If you got your nose bitten off, no one would ever know." That was, of course, before he had begun her training in earnest.
She had slung up a hammock between two bookshelves, using some fallen masonry to keep it in place. Once she had moved enough of the rocks out of the way she planned to move it to the entrance so she could breathe the fresh air as she was sleeping. The next nightmare, less than five hours after the other one, sent her tumbling out of the hammock, the slim knife she had found ready.
It was a cry of anguish that echoed through the underground chambers. Tucking the knife in the soft rope belt of her pantaloons, she made her way to the bedroom. The fire she had created earlier made her feel thankful she was just wearing a camisole and her undergarments. The angelo had thrown off most of the covers, his shirt darkened with sweat, yet when she touched his hands, she found they were freezing. With a cry of "Away, child!" he yanked his hand out from hers. But a heartbeat later, he snatched it up again. "Oh, Christine," he said, grasping her hand harshly in his. "I am so sorry, cherie. Forgive me. Please forgive me. Don't leave me." His strong fingers nearly crushed her hands in his earnestness, and she saw he was still asleep. She had to do something that would let him release her. Finally she placed her hand on top of his, and said quietly, "I know you didn't mean it. I won't leave you. I'll never leave you." His mouth dropped open in wonder, and a look of utter bliss crossed his face. "Shhhh," she said, stroking his hand as it still held hers in a death grip. "You must rest now. Regain your strength. I must---" her mind searched for a way out. What did she know of this Christine? "I must finish my practicing. I will be here when you wake." She hoped that would work.
It did. The angelo relaxed his grip on her hand. He nodded slightly. "Work for greater stability above the staves," he said, apparently trying to sound like a well person. "Your high D is not what it should be." He fell back against the pillows. "Will you really be here?" he said in a whisper. "I fear this is a dream."
Diana paused. What could she say to that? It was in fact a dream. Apparently Mlle Daee was off somewhere married to a comte. She would not be here. She would not be coming back. All what the angelo had here was her, Diana. This would not be good enough. Diana bit her lip. Finally: "I will always be in your heart, my angel."
She didn't even know if he had heard her. He was asleep again, stretched out along the bed. She pulled up the blankets around him and left the room, wondering how long this would go on.
The gods themselves couldn't have answered her question. The angelo continued to have nightmares for the next few days. Diana got quite accustomed to listening for his unsettled moans so she could catch them before they turned into full-fledged cries. At one point she recognized his nightmare---it was of the Robello wagon train. She caught that one almost before it started. "No, no," she said, stroking his hair quietly. "Remember? You escaped. They are all dead. There was a child---"
"A little girl," he said, calming a bit before breathing hard again. "I must run, before they catch me. They're all alike---"
"They are not," Diana said hotly, but quietly. "The Robello clan was a blight among our--their people. One bad apple can taint the entire barrel. They had to be stopped before people everywhere thought of the rrom as pests in need of extermination. They did not intend to catch you and place you in a cage again. You were a distraction, a much-needed one, so that the other clan could creep in unnoticed and 'clean house'. Had you stayed, you would have been an honored guest for as long as you wanted. It is up to us to help repair the damage that others have done." She glanced down at him, and saw that he had faded to deeper sleep again. A faint line had appeared in his scarred and twisted forehead, between his eyebrows as he attempted to take in this new information, but even as she watched it faded as he relaxed again.
The next few days were much the same. Most of the time he was next to unconscious when she managed to feed him, but the gruel and porridge stayed down. Part of the wall collapsed again as she was moving the rocks, and the resulting frustration and sense of claustrophobia almost sent her into a panic attack, which was averted only by a nightmare that was, for once, convenient. By the time she was finished calming his thrashing form, (which had been harder as he had become stronger), the feeling had almost passed and she was able to start again. And he was getting stronger. When she woke him up to feed him, he had a little more coherency in him, even though he was still, to all purposes, useless to the world. Then it happened.
She pushed open the door to the terribly pink bedroom with her hip, her hands loaded with the tray of food. The bed before her was starkly empty, the blankets thrown to one side. As her glance darted to the rest of the room, a long cold hand wrapped inhuman fingers around her neck. "What do you believe you are doing here, mademoiselle?" asked a voice, dark and warm as silk velvet.