Chapter 28: The Race

Beaux felt his knees buckle beneath him precariously, as though every bone in his body was slowly disintegrating. He groped the door knob like a blind man searching for his cane.

"Louis!" Meliah called from other side in her sweet, sickly voice. Beaux felt the pressure of Meliah's small hands running across the door white surface and then tapping it with a sudden force. "Why is the door shut? Why won't you let me out?"

Louis pursed his lips together and stiffened until Beaux could not distinguish him from the wall behind him. The two gauged each other through narrowed eyes.

"What do mean you 'know'?" Beaux finally whispered. He spoke so softly, Louis knew that had his lips not opened, he would have missed the query all together. Beaux lowered himself until he was sitting on the floor with his back pushed against the door. "Tell me quickly!"

"My father was once bitten by a vampire."

Beaux bit back a sharp gasp and felt his throat constrict violently. "A vampire?" he breathed. "And he survived?"

Louis looked at him with his bright green eyes, glazed over with a misty reminiscence. Beaux noticed his lips twitch into a vague, half-smile.

"No."

Beaux sighed in frustration and slumped heavily against the door. And recognizing movement, Meliah began her plea once more. "Beaux! Is that you? Oh Beaux let me out! I've – I've hurt myself." She cried piteously and scratched the door like a kitten.

"Let her out," Louis said calmly.

Beaux looked up at Louis in amazement. And to Louis's great dismay, in the brief moment their eyes met, Beaux's eyes reflected fear and panic.

Beaux twisted his body around uncomfortably. His eyelids shut tightly together, his lips pinched between his teeth. He was being burned alive.

"Or are you afraid?" Louis asked. Beaux eyes snapped open.

"How dare you-?"

"Then why won't you open the door?"

Beaux's eyes were quickly shadowed by his hair as he bent his head in reluctant defeat. He shifted uneasily, his coat brushing the floor like the hushed call of a phantom voice. His hands seemed to slide from the door knob as the sweat collected in the cavity of his palm.

"I – I can't. I don't want to see her like this anymore. My body – no - I can no longer take it." He was ashamed of what he had spoken. It was not as though his willingness to sacrifice his life was not strong enough, yet something from deep within Beaux was protesting wildly in fear. He wondered if the very Meliah, who thirsted for his blood, was the one he loved. Could it be he was in love with one half yet not the other?

"She is still Miss Lavoisier," Louis answered his thoughts.

"I know!" Beaux snapped angrily. He pulled himself unto his knees and shuffled awkwardly in place. "But what am I to do? She is – is a mon– unbelievable."

Louis grabbed Beaux's wrist and pulled him from the floor and upright. He then proceeded to open the door despite Beaux's silent protests.

When the door swung open, the two saw Meliah sitting on the floor. Her eyes were miraculously free of tears and her hands were folded neatly in her lap like a cloth napkin.

"Oh Louis!" Meliah breathed sensuously. She jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around Louis's neck. She pressed her doll face right to Louis's ear. The dearest "thank you" issued from her fruit-like lips. Her dark crimson irises caught Beaux, standing rigidly behind Louis. She lowered her lashes and flashed him a daring smile. Beaux felt his veins freezing over in anger.

Meliah pressed two fingers against Louis's pale neck and brought her lips close. But Louis withdrew rapidly. He clasped his neck with one hand and gently grasped Meliah's hand with the other.

"No," Louis enunciated firmly, "You can not drink from me."

"Cruel, cruel Louis! How can you deny me?" Meliah pouted. Beaux's heart stopped when she let an unwilling glass tear fall like a raindrop from her eye. She brushed a thick lock of hair from Louis's forehead and moved toward him once more.

"No," Louis repeated. "Your antics won't work on me." His body language was clear. The passionate desire that Meliah expected to see was no where in his eyes or his motionless limbs. His lips were dry with resolve.

The air seemed to drop several degrees as the painted smile from Meliah's face faded away. "You are not the only one with blood pumping through your body!" she retorted. "I shan't take you by force, you despicable dog!"

Beaux knew Meliah's pride was too much to assault for a meal. She valued her ability to control her victims. And until this point, Beaux had given himself to her willingly.

"Beaux," Meliah whimpered in defeat, "Come."

She abandoned Louis and placed her hands in Beaux's. Beaux did not want to admit it he was afraid. He feared her bright eyes and her dazzling smile and the way her body moved – dangerously and seductively – like mercury.

Inadvertently, Beaux sought Louis's guidance. And they exchanged glances. Meliah tugged Beaux's armed forcefully and then looked into his face with a fierce curiosity. Beaux planted his feet on the ground and pulled his arm free. Louis came to Meliah.

"You are under the influence of a terrible condition-"

"You speak of nonsense!" Meliah snapped irritably. "Beaux! We move!"

Beaux was desperate. "Meliah, please, we can fix this. We can return things the way they were before this! So, just please, let's listen to Louis."

"Don't be stupid Beaux!" Meliah cried. "You, sir, are a coward! A stupid, spineless wretch! You promised me! If you don't want me to take the blood of others, you give me yours!"

"Meliah! Don't you see? Louis knows a cure!" Beaux exclaimed.

"I've never expressed any desire to be cured! I'm not sick!" she screamed. She shook her head, until her hair was disheveled and her clothes unseemly.

"Aren't you tired of these transformations?" Beaux asked exasperatedly. "Every night, Meliah, every night."

Meliah stopped and whirled around. Her fury was palpable. "You tire of me?"

"No! That is not what I said-"

"I see," Meliah murmured. She pushed herself against Beaux before kissing him tenderly at the base of his throat. Beaux gasped in surprise and blushed crimson; he sensed Louis's anxiety intensify. "You tire of this?"

Beaux could not remember his argument; he blinked furiously to remain in focus, but the cold sensation of her lips was making him very, very…

He did not know when Meliah's teeth had pierced through his skin. He felt himself spluttering and fighting for air, yet his arms were pulling her closer. Beaux only retrieved some consciousness when he heard Louis calling. He could not make out the words but Louis was shouting. Beaux felt his energy being drained out of his body into the scarlet creature beside him, relishing the taste of his life on her tongue.

"You're killing him!" Louis bellowed. "He will die if you continue to do this! Meliah STOP!"

Then, something strange happened. Meliah seemed to shudder uncontrollably, and her eyes were no longer red. She swayed uneasily on her feet and Louis caught her from falling completely. As she gasped for air, her skin seem to grow duller as through the faint, eerie white light inside of her had been snuffed out.

Beaux was immobilized. He could not even open his eyes. But when he finally awoke, he could hear.

"He hates me," Meliah said somberly. She spoke without a sob but the sorrow in her voice was heart-wrenching. "He must hate me after what I've done."

Beaux's throat burned with objection, but his neck was throbbing and his voice was no where to be found. He sensed her hand hovering above his face, yet she could not bear to touch him.

"Please," Louis begged. "What's important is that you have some control. You have not been consumed. So we must do our best to protect what is left of your soul."

"My soul, too? Louis, what has happened to me? How can this be undone?" she whispered urgently.

"A vampire – aside from your creator – must bite you without killing you."

"No!" Meliah gasped. She put her hands protectively around her neck.

"Unfortunately-" Louis continued softly.

Beaux could not believe what he was hearing. He could barely control himself! How could he find a vampire who would have enough compassion to stop drinking?

"-that vampire must also be one with great prerequisites. Of lineage. Of status."

"Why?" Meliah inquired. Beaux sensed her brush against the edge of the bed. His own energy was returning somewhat reluctantly into his leaden limbs.

Louis continued, "Only those vampires with a strong breeding have inherent powers. I believe the von Chatillon is one of those old families, which is why Beaux may have been able to create the other you to begin with."

"What should we do?" Meliah asked desperately. She wrung her hands together and then resorted to pacing the room in an agitated manner. Beaux heard her feet dragging across the wooden panels with unnecessary force.

"I don't know Miss Lavoisier. I wanted to get you away from here because I knew the Assembly was not going to play fairly. However, I may have underestimated the urgency of your situation. Ultimately, it is your choice alone. Whether you choose to look for an alternative, or put your life at the feet of Lord Eas."

"Lord who?" gasped Meliah. She pulled her hair behind her ears and the smoothed the ends frantically. "You don't mean that dark haired man, the one with the sharp face?"

Louis's eyes grew wide with surprise and guilt. His trembling hand covered his lips as if to obscure his mistake. "I've spoken too much," he managed to choke. Beaux heard Meliah's angry sigh. She moved toward the Louis and forced him to look at her pale face.

"This is my life you're gambling with! I need to know the truth! And quite frankly, I've been deprived of that since the moment I stepped unto this Godforsaken place!"

"No, no I can't. I promised Miss Cecilia-" Louis stopped short again.

"Cecilia? What does she have to do with this?" Meliah demanded. She did not bother to disguise her disapproval. Beaux had a clear idea as to why Meliah was so cold toward the name. Ever since their last confrontation, she had been on rather negative terms with his cousin. Although, admittedly, Beaux knew the animosity was mutual.

"Please don't make me say anymore," Louis begged. His voice was quite moving, but as Beaux mentally noted, his teary eyes were probably as convincing. He sensed Meliah's anger diminishing until it was but a small flicker of the candlelight. "Ask her yourself, but this is not my secret to divulge. You understand."

Beaux, however, could not understand. And he could no longer feign unconsciousness either for that matter.

"Fine!" he snapped as he bolted out of the bed and grabbed Meliah roughly by the wrist. He saw Louis's eyes expand until the green of his irises were illuminated into rings of silver and gold. "We'll ask her ourselves! And then maybe we can get some Goddamn answers around here!"

He half expected Louis to stop him, but Louis remained still and oddly reserved. Beaux, however, did not wait for approval.

"Beaux!" Meliah gasped. "Wait! Where are we going?"

In his fury and haste, he was nearly deaf to Meliah's squeaks of pain. The two were halfway between the guest quarters and the Great Hall when the opaque silhouettes of a couple in the midst of the snow stopped Beaux in his tracks. The mysterious couple was only several yards away, but the flurry of white seemed to mute their voices. Beaux quickly pulled Meliah aside until they were completely hidden by the thick brush. They still had a clear view of the couple.

Meliah, who was still unaware of the presence of others, was indignantly brushing off snowflakes from her hair and clothes. She growled at the sight of mud caked on the back of her shoes, and continued her offhanded cleaning. Beaux took a few moments to revel in her beauty and admire the white flutters, glowing like little stars against her ebony tresses. When she caught him staring at her unabashedly, she began to blush and her warm breath blew soft clouds of thick mist to linger in the air.

Beaux's poor heart was buzzing like the wings of a hummingbird. He bent over to kiss her snow-laden lashes, but she drew back a tad to indicate her hesitancy. She looked at him longingly while he replied with a quizzical expression.

"Beaux, I have a question," Meliah began shyly. Her eyes were watering with emotion.

"Yes?" Beaux asked. He leaned closer until he could almost count the small lashes under her eyes.

Yet suddenly the murmurs of the nearby couple erupted into shouts. The thin silence was shattered and Beaux pressed a finger to his lips to signal Meliah to stay quiet.

"You are a liar!" the woman screamed.

"Isn't she Miss Mansart?" Meliah whispered. And Beaux saw, she was right.