Chapter 15
Tierra and Page sat on the divan talking in hushed tones when a tall figure suddenly appeared in the doorway, so quietly as though he'd simply materialized at the threshold. Gasping, she rose to her feet. "Have you found her? Dear God, tell me she's alright!" Shrinking back at the pained look in dark hooded eyes, the beautiful blonde clutched her betrothed's hand as if it was a life line. "Kathleena's dead, isn't she?!"
Her question was filled with such despair Barnabas shook his head solemnly. "No, not dead. But she's wounded. Critically, I'm afraid." Page leapt to his feet at the horrific statement. "I have need of laudanum. If you've none I will need whiskey or brandy, as much as you have. And bandages. Quickly!" Without question Tierra dashed off, a choking sob flying from her throat. Page was left to stare at Collins. With a sad shake of his head, the man fell back as a wave of incredible guilt knocked him to the couch. He looked up at the Englishman.
"What did he do?"
"He whipped her," Barnabas scowled. "He lashed the flesh from her back."
Page closed his eyes with a heavy groan. "No! My God!" In his mind he could see her pale blue eyes beseeching him to leave and still the blame he shouldered was phenomenal. "If only I hadn't abandoned her-"
The vampire raised his hand. "The time for second guesses has long passed. Hindsight will not help her now. Kathleena's alive and I will make certain that she remains so." His thick voice was so full of conviction, Page didn't doubt it for an instant. He watched as Barnabas impatiently paced the room pausing to glare at the mantle clock. What was taking so long?
Breathless, Tierra returned in that instant, a satchel stuffed to the seams in her arms. She thrust it toward him. "Here ... take it... save her, please!"
As he headed for the door, Page bounded to his feet. "I'm coming with you."
"NO!"
"Barnabas, I-"
Annoyed, dark eyes drifted to the position of the moon. So much to be done. "I've not the time to argue. I must return to her. Stay here. Believe me, it's for the best. At least for the moment. If I need help, I will tell you. I swear." Dejected, Page nodded.
Despite his need to hurry, Barnabas's placid gaze fell on Tierra. "Kathleena will return," he said with complete certainty. "I promise."
There was such a haunted expression in his eyes, a barely discernible tremble to his voice, she had no choice but to believe him. Smiling sadly, she whispered, "Thank you, now please, you must go!"
As the couple watched him stride through the door, Tierra looked to Page. "He loves her."
With a nod, he gathered her tightly against the wall of his chest. "I know, darling. I know." He petted her hair as she sobbed wretchedly, her emotions finally hitting her at last.
"Surely she's done nothing to deserve this."
Page closed his eyes in a silent plea.
Save her Barnabas!
She lay on her stomach, nearly drowning into the softness of the feather tick mattress when he returned, tears drying on her cheeks. As he came to her, Kathleena's eyes flew open and he froze at the deep anguish he saw. "Barnabas," she groaned through clenched teeth. Her back felt as if it was on fire and she couldn't control the searing agony crashing over her. "Dear God!" she screamed pleading as the pain consumed her, "Take me now!"
"Yes, Kathleena," he said, encouraging her as he placed the sack on a chair, "Scream if you must. We are alone. I am the only one who will hear you." Closing his eyes in sympathy, he recalled with sorrow the blessedly few occasions his father's house slaves were flogged for their defiance. Their hoarse cries for mercy, their piercing screams of unending pain filling the air long after the whip stopped falling. Recalling how he'd helped those poor wretched creatures so long ago, Barnabas hesitantly seized the brandy decanter, shaking his head at what was to happen. It was offensive and sadistic, but necessary.
"Please...please..." Kathleena chanted, her voice practically a low growl as she choked on both her words and her sobs. Long nails clawed into the soft bedding over and over again. Suddenly, a pain so fiery, so unexpected, unbearable and mind stopping tore across her back. "No! Noooo!" she wailed. Pitching upward, Kathleena screamed a deafening scream then crumpled upon the sheet, unconscious. Barnabas stood above her, the amber liquor emptied from the bottle onto her ravaged flesh, the strong libation dousing every raw slice, every oozing gash.
"Oh God Kathleena," he whispered falling to his knees beside her. "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. It needed to be done." But so vilely? Yes, he decided. Although it pained him to see her suffer so, the worst was over. A tear came to his eye and he brushed it away. Looking down, Barnabas fingered the talisman that still hung about her throat, surprised but immensely grateful it was still there. Thankfully Duncan did not realize the significance of the charm. Good. Angelique would be powerless to find them. Kathleena will be safe while he rested.
Carefully dressing her ragged flesh, he swept an errant lock of hair from her face. A beautiful face even now contorted with agony. Barnabas growled deep in his throat. He will slaughter that brutal bastard when next they meet. It shall be a death unlike any other. Perhaps he will fillet the man alive. Or possibly stake him in the sun and roast the flesh from his bones. Or, just perhaps, he will gut him like a fish, watching him flop and thrash on the ground, his entrails spilling forth. A vicious snarl crossed his gaunt features for whichever way he chose, Fasette will beg for mercy long before he gave it. And he will relish that final blow, delivering the vile whoreson to hell.
The vampire paused in his pleasant fantasies. Damn! His terrible hunger was returning. Unconsciously gazing ravenously at the nape of her throat, Barnabas moaned, disgusted at himself. Tenderly settling his cloak over Kathleena's beaten body, he glared pensively out the window. He must hunt. He must feed before dawn. There wasn't much time left.
Returning with a pair of bloodless rabbits, Barnabas made a crude broth, placing the bowl beside her on the stand. Pouring a generous splash of laudanum into a glass, he raised her head. "Kathleena, come, you must drink this. I'll help you. Just like in the cave, remember?"
"Barnabas?" She croaked his name through dry, cracked lips. The sound was raw and ugly, slipping past a clenched jaw as the ceaseless waves of torment rippled within her. "The pain... I burn so."
"I know," he whispered, putting the rim of the glass to her lips. "Drink this, it will help."
"No!" Pushing it away, she shook her head, screaming out in agony. "No, please," she begged weakly. "Make me… what you…"
Barnabas rocked back on his heels. "Kathleena, what are you saying?"
Slowly, she lifted her hand to the cheek where she'd recently raked him with her nails. The marks had vanished; the flesh as smooth as if it had never happened.
"Make me-"
He immediately understood. She believed was she what he was her pain would vanish as did his scratches. Clutching her hand, Barnabas held it firmly. "No Kathleena, I will never do that to you. I will never curse you as I am. Believe me please, although it is hard to envision now this pain shall pass." Placing icy lips to her warm flesh he kissed her fingers. "You will never feel the desperate hunger I face, night after night," he vowed. "It is, in many ways, a horrible addiction. I need blood. I must have it as a drunkard needs drink. I don't care how I get it. I will hurt, even kill for it. That will never happen to you. You will not become the vile monster I am." Kathleena's eyes were dim with pain and glistening with unshed tears. Tears for him and the accursed plight he tackled, the self loathing he felt. "You need never fear the sun's beautiful, warm rays," he said wistfully, remembering. "You need never sleep in a box as I do and you will never have to fear an enemy, ready to run you through with a stake to the heart." Barnabas closed his eyes against his words. Words that pierced him as sharp as any blade and yet, he had to make her understand. Vampirism was not a cure for her pain, it was a curse that caused a pain much worse then she felt, even now. Lifting her small hand, he placed it on his face. "Feel my flesh, Kathleena. Feel how icy it is. See the paleness. There's no blood coursing through these veins. I am dead, dead for over half a century."
Yes, he was dead and she knew it. Knew from the very beginning and still she gave herself to him, freely. Smiling, his mind evoked images of her incredible reaction to their passionate lovemaking. To have a willing bride for all eternity… it's what he constantly yearned for. His fangs lengthened in frenzied anticipation. He felt the strong urge to kiss her throat. To drain her, until…
"No!" He tore himself away in disgust. She deserved better than that. She deserved better than him. When Barnabas turned back 'round her eyes were closed, her breath uneven but deep. She was asleep. Asleep or unconscious? Perhaps a goodly amount of both. Clutching the laudanum laced water glass, he placed it to her lips, rubbing her throat to force her to drink the potion. As he gazed down at her beloved face, he shook his dark head with powerful resolve.
"No Kathleena…never shall I turn you. Even if I must spend the rest of my accursed existence alone." Unbidden, his thoughts flew to Josette and those final tics of her life atop Widow's Hill. "Never again."
When next she awoke, the sun was a high ball in the mid morning sky. The pain, intense, but not nearly as severe when Kathleena held herself completely quiet. Still, with the shudders that wracked her body, she struggled with the effort it took to do so. "Barnabas?" she called out. Opening her bloodshot eyes, a chestnut brow furrowed at a sheet of paper that lay beside her, demanding attention. Slowly, she slid her hand to clutch the note, reading his gracefully scrawled words.
Kathleena,
There is broth beside the bed. It will be cold but edible. Please eat. You must restore your strength. I will see you again when I arise this evening. You've nothing to fear. You are safe here.
Barnabas
P.S. Remember- Do not remove the amulet!
A sudden fear snaked through her. Arise? Where was he resting? Surely not at the cave where he would be at their mercy! Painfully slow and methodical, Kathleena turned her head to view the rest of the room. There, in a dimly lit area stood a simple mahogany coffin. Barnabas's coffin. Words came into her mind, strange words that confused her. 'You will never have to sleep in a box as I do.' Suddenly she remembered. In the deepest throes of her agony, she'd pleaded with him to turn her, to make her as he was. To allow her to escape the pain.
Surely that wouldn't be so bad, would it? To be free of Duncan? To exist with Barnabas for all time? And yet, even he was still plagued by Angelique and her malevolent ire. Was there no way to escape? For either of them? Yes, she sighed. There was an escape in a sense. For her, at least. Her freedom would come in only three fleeting years. In what form that freedom would take depended solely upon Duncan and his ruthless ingenuity. Until then there would be more hurt, more pain. Of that, she did not disbelieve for an instant.
Later, as Kathleena painfully hunched over her delicious, albeit cold fare, a bizarre unbidden thought came to mind. Although morbid, she wondered why Duncan had spared her vision. He hadn't burned out her eyes as he'd threatened to do so long ago. She'd looked upon Page as they spoke in full view of that malicious bastard. Could it be that he was becoming soft? Lenient? With a harsh cynical laugh, she fiercely hurled her unfinished meal at the wall, immediately regretting her show of anger for the wrenching pain defeated her and she was forced to lean over the side of the bed and spew what she had already consumed.
For the remainder of the day, between equal bouts of self-pity, severe agony and the remembered lashes she suffered at Duncan's merciless hands, Kathleena thought of Barnabas. In her mind, with pleasure, she replayed the vivid images of the last night they spent together, enveloped in each other's comforting embrace. If only her life was hers to control, she lamented. If only she hadn't been dealt the hand she was given, she could love him as he loved her. Yes. She could love an undead man...a vampire.
What was it about Barnabas Collins that drew her to him like a moth to a flame? Why did she not fear him as all others had? That was a question Kathleena asked herself many times. Could it be that she did she love him? Was it the reason why she wanted him so? But how was love possible? She wasn't in a position to offer her heart to anyone. The oddest thing was that she'd chosen to be with him of her own accord. He had control over neither her mind nor her actions. Was it truly her choice or was Angelique forcing her to feel this way, using her as a pawn to punish Barnabas? Her hand instinctively flew to the protective talisman resting against her chest. Kathleena stared down as her long fingers stroked the beautiful piece. She was now sheltered from the witch's evil influence and still she bore such incredible feelings for him. So focused was she in her contemplations, she failed to hear the lid of the coffin creak open. Only when a shadow fell across the bed did she glance up into warm brown eyes.
"Good evening, Kathleena, did you rest well?" Glancing about the room with a judicious eye, Barnabas noted both the sickness beside the bed and the broth bowl smashed against the wall. "You've had a bad time of it I see."