Chapter 4
Plaything
The woman is now my captive and I am worried she is going to hurt herself trying to break out. Now that she is calm, I leave her. I leave the house and go out. The stores and shops of the town rarely see me, but I haunt them this afternoon, thankful that the day is overcast. I move quickly, truly slipping in and out so fast and quiet it is as if I am the fictitious mist. Groceries – human food tops my list. I also shop quickly for something appropriate for her to wear. I want to laugh at the absurdity but I do not believe I will be able to stop if I start. Without trying she has domesticated me. I return with my supplies to a quiet house. I creep into the cellar to see her. She is sleeping, lying on the mattress still on the floor after her earlier tirade. I smell fresh blood and realize she has injured her fingertips trying to claw the door open.
Before she can rouse herself from her exhausted repose I sneak into her cell. The sting of the injection brings her to a full panic and she is instantly on her feet and fighting me. So effortlessly I hold her wrists in my inhuman iron grasp. Still she pulls, she writhes, kicking and even trying to bite me. She is so lovely with her fierce response, so like a kitten to me. I twist her arms behind her, pulling her up against me to quiet her struggles. It succeeds and she is suddenly calm and pliant against me. But her heart continues to hammer against me in her terror. Her frightened blue eyes stare up at me and I can see she has been crying.
I easily hold her wrists behind her in one hand and wipe her tears with the other. She flinches at the touch of my icy fingers. I glide my hand over the tangles of her hair, tipping her head back gently. I lower my mouth to hers. She seems startled at first and I can feel her catch her breath. Then she yields against me and sighs against my lips before her delicate tongue finds mine. She fights to pull her hands free and I let go to see if she is finished struggling. Her freed hands quickly move to the back of my head, clutching at my hair and pulling me closer. I hold her snug against me as she has both arms around my neck.
I feel the cadence of her heart sounding in my head and my senses are overloaded by everything she is: Her warmth, her softness, her gentle sighing, her sweet taste, her fragility, and her vibrant scent. I am caught off guard as the rhythm slows and I feel her arms grow slack around me. Her delicate mouth falls away from mine and her head falls to my shoulder. So caught up am in in the moment I worry that I have gone too far and taken her life.
It's the drug, and it works well putting her to sleep and I once again gather her up in my arms to carry her through my cellar. Even though she is asleep, I press her head to my chest, enjoying the feel of her face resting against me. I carry her out of the cellar and up the stairs to my suite. I feel her heart beating normally and her breathing is slow and even. Once in my bedroom I am at a loss on where to put her. The bed is an antique from the sixteenth century, with massive hand carved posts and a canopy atop them. There is a chaise lounge, but I doubt it's shape would be appropriate for an unconscious woman and I imagine her rolling off onto the antique carpet. No to the chairs, the secretary, the chest, and also the dresser. I finally go ahead and place her on the bed which has not been slept upon since I had it built over three hundred years ago.
She lies on the heavy brocade coverlet and even in her modern day clothing she looks as if she belongs there. I leave her where she lies and go to run a bath. The bathroom fills with misty steam as the claw foot tub fills with hot water. It is only as the mirror fogs up that I realize my mistake; it is not for me. The water would surely scald the girl in seconds. I adjust the water, adding plenty of cold and a touch of fragrant bath oil I have purchased. It only takes a few minutes to get everything else ready before I go back to the bed where she waits.
I undress her, tossing aside her distasteful garments. She is exquisite in every detail. I can see where the sun has kissed her arms, legs and middle as the rest of her is fine pale porcelain in comparison. It has been centuries since I have been enticed by a woman's mere nudity. I keep a calm detachment as I carry her to the bath. With one hand holding the back of her neck lightly, I am free to wash her with the other. She is not very dirty, but I feel like I am washing away the fear, sweat, and blood of her captivity. I am careful with her damaged hands and I wash her lovely face gently as well. When I wash her hair, I use a shampoo I chose for it's scent. She is clean and fragrant when I take her from her bath.
In my bed once more I dry and dress her. The new clothes fit her well and I spend time just brushing her golden hair as it dries. I force myself to leave her alone in my bed and return to the cellar. The changes I make are for her comfort, changing the bed and bedding for something fresh, clean and new. I clean the room and stock it with things she might need or want. Soap, towels, tissue, snacks, bottled water, blankets, pillows, and even some good book selections from my own library. What more could she want?
She is sleeping in my bed when I return. I have dressed her in a short white dress made out of flowing white fabric and she is lovely. Her tan arms and legs are exposed and I remember to turn up the heat in the house to keep her warm. I expect her to sleep for a couple more hours and I am reluctant to return her to her new home in the cellar. Even as I stand beside the bed watching her I can smell the layering of her scents; soap, honeysuckle shampoo, passion fruit conditioner, rose bath oil, the crispness of new clothes, and underneath it all is her scent, which is softer and more alluring than all the perfumes combined.
An idea takes me and I am acting on it before I consider how wrong it is. I run another bath and submerge myself in the hottest water until my flesh is warmed. I dress in my pajamas, which I only keep in case of late night visits by uninvited guests. Back in my room I lie next to her and pull her to me. I leave the light on so I can see her beauty. I close my eyes and make believe that I am human. I love the way her body fits against me and the sweetness of her breath whispered against my face. I listen to the beating of her heart and her soft respiration and I fall into a kind of trance.
I remember her...Tessa. So unlike the woman I am holding, and yet so similar. It is the innocence I believe that I recognize in both. Though one has been gone for centuries and the other is soft and warm next to me. I now know this young woman's name is Summer. Summer...so appropriate for her warmth, her brightness, her softness, and her sweetness. But it is Tessa who slips through my memories, taunting me with her elusive charms. I remember her long dark hair that would cascade to her hips, past her narrow waist. Her head covering was always blue or white even though there were such vibrant shades in fashion at the time. She had a circlet she wore on her upper arm, but I cannot remember what it was made from...some metal I think. This is so difficult – she deserves to be remembered. I loved her so much and now I cannot even remember her only jewelry.
I stroke Summer's hair and press my lips against her forehead. I touch her curves; surely a violation of all that is decent, but it stirs my memory and Tessa is teasing me. I chase her through my memory, through the market traffic, catching sight of her blue covered head as she slips past the merchant tents to the back of a stable where she allows me to catch her. We kiss and I hold her tight against me. I touch her body in ways that would get us both flogged if we are caught, but it is worth it. She is so lush she takes my breath away and I beg her to marry me even though she has already accepted my proposal.
Her father has yet to give me an answer and let me know her bride's price, but my family sells the best olive oil in the area and I know he will accept and make us pay a huge sum for her...still for Tessa I would give it all! I wish I could reach back through time and stop the events that I know happened. I would gladly trade my entire fifteen centuries for just one more chance.
She stirs in my arms. Not Tessa, but Summer; just a slight twitch letting me know the drug will soon wear off. I'm not ready to release her. I slip from the bed and prepare another injection. She looks so helpless and peaceful curled up next to the indentation where I was lying. I feel an unfamiliar and unexpected guilt that I am using her, but at least this is a use she can survive. I lie next to her again and she unconsciously presses against me. I hold her face to face and my hands touch her body. I want her, but I am not thirsting for her. The thief has met my needs and his blood affords me time.
I lie with her; my hard inhuman arms surround her in a cold stone cage. The flawless beauty of her face rests on my shoulder as she and I breath the same air. I can feel her breathing and heart rate change almost imperceptibly as the drugs slowly leave her system. It is slow enough it gives me time to feel her semi-conscious stirrings against me. Her movements are those of one asleep rather than unconscious. I lie still and quiet as she turns, rolling to her other side to find warmth and comfort I cannot provide.
I pull her gently against me before she settles, molding to her back with my arms around her once more. I regret the loss of her face before me though the perfume of her hair is almost as intoxicating. I am mesmerized by her hair. The soft thickness of it falls to the middle of her back, a cascade of golden splendor. It is untouched by chemicals to change it's color which is so common among women of this age. I pick up a lock of the spun gold and slide it through my hands, enjoying how the ends want to curl around my fingers.
I push her hair away from the back of her neck. Her personal scent washes over me and I feel hunger for her...not the thirst of need, but hunger. I want her! I have my mouth against her throat before I remember that I have decided not to kill her yet. She moves then, her body coming even closer to mine as I hear the slightest sigh of pleasure. There is nothing to stop me from finishing her...except that she will be no more, and I am not yet ready for that.
I kiss her neck, feeling the hairs at the nape tickle my lips. I do not need to breath, but I find myself almost panting against her skin, taking in her scents as my lips taste the delicate membrane which holds her life force inside her. I feel her body tense and I hear the lids of her eyes open. Her gasp of alarm lets me know for sure she is totally awake.
I move quickly, my arm pins hers to her side, my leg thrown over hers to keep her still. I continue kissing around her neck, moving her slowly to her back. Her eyes are wide and terrified as she looks at me. I stop and smile reassuringly. I am waiting to feel her lungs fill with air as she prepares to scream but it never comes. Her eyes gaze into mine and I feel her yielding. I am amazed that the same woman who fought me so strenuously in the cellar is now acquiescing to my attentions. I kiss her lips and she meets me with a passion that assaults me in it's savagery. She moves against me, struggling to free her her arms. I let her succeed and she wraps me tightly in her embrace. Tightly? As if she has anything that can compare to the crushing power of my own arms; still she is using her awakening strength to pull me to her. I move over her, continuing to kiss her, feeling her fingers alternately gliding through and clutching at my hair. I do the same, feeling her hair slide through my fingers like raw silk. It is not enough; I want to touch her.
Her mouth devours mine as I explore her body with my hands. I do not remember the feel of any woman's flesh ever feeling so enticing to me, including my Tessa. I am gentle with her, knowing that I could damage her if I am not careful. Perhaps that is the lure; the necessary restraint that keeps me wanting more but needing to deny myself. Her eyes are closed and she softly moans against my mouth, clearly enjoying my lips and tongue. It is almost more than I can take and my will is challenged to it's limit. I break away from her mouth and her eyes snap open.
I can feel the pounding of her heart and the shallowness of her respiration. Her lips are rich red from kissing, and at the moment I cannot recall a more beautiful sight. "Stefan, why did you stop? Please, I want you to kiss me." Whether it is her soft voice or her request I am not sure, but all thoughts of Tessa are banished to the furthest reaches of my subconscious. It is her I want – my Summer. I struggle not to break her as I assault her mouth with mine. I fight to keep control as she presses herself to me, moaning and sighing with every breath she breathes. This cannot be the same woman who fought me so strenuously.
I struggle to understand the change in her, then I feel her hands touch me again unexpectedly. With so much going through my mind I did not notice her fingers working the buttons of my nightshirt. The touch of her warm hands on my bare chest is almost more than I can take. I pull back again, looking down on her as she slides her hands over the exposed skin of my chest. Her eyes speak to me of a need I have never seen in a woman's eyes. Even more shocking is the response my own body gives her. I am impossibly aroused by her, and the look on her face tells me she knows!
Her voice is rich with desire as she speaks. "Take me Stefan...I am yours." I feel such shock I am across the room before I realize I have fled from her. I need the refreshment of air that is not touching her; to leave the smell of her skin and the heat of her body. I am one thousand, five hundred years on this world, and I am completely overwhelmed by a human girl who is barely twenty-four years old.
She sits up in my bed looking at me in confusion. "Stefan, what's happening to me? Are you doing this to me? Have you somehow enthralled me?" She beckons to me from the bed. "I...I want you to come back. I want you to... no... I don't!" Her heart races almost to a panicked state. I can tell any second she will be screaming. I cross the room and give her the injection before she has a chance to react. She squeals at the sudden pain and I gather her to me to muffle any screams. She briefly struggles against me, then she is calm and complacent.
"I am so sorry meu amor. I am so very sorry. I cannot…. I want to but it is not possible." I do not even understand what I am saying as she is pressing against me again. I brush the hair off her face as we sit close together, our arms around one another. I am stunned to see tears in her eyes before she rests her head against my chest.
"Stefan, I have never... I mean I'm..." She looks up at me. "You're beautiful. And you terrify me, but when you hold me like this...I just want you. But it's not me." Two tears slide down her lovely face. "I don't...I never have. Stefan...I'm a virgin...but you're doing something to me that makes me want you even if it kills me. And why do you keep drugging me? You're already more of a drug than I can handle." Two more tears slip from her eyes. "Please don't play with me Stefan. I'd rather you stop my heart than break it."
The drug works faster this time and she falls unconscious leaning against me. I do not play with her this time. She is even more of a mystery to me than I first believed. The coverlet on the bed is merely for show, and I go searching for a blanket with which to cover her. I find the blankets I am searching for in a closet in one of the spare bedrooms. Her hold on me is momentarily broken and I feel like a monster. I dress in my normal clothing to help avoid some of the temptations she presents. The things that go through my mind in her presence are shocking even for me.
After I cover her, I prepare another injection and I worry that I could be hurting her with the drugs. I puzzle over her words and what she may be trying to tell me. From all of my observations it seems she wants me, perhaps any way that I want her. When I was going to feed on her she was ready to allow me. But then she insists she does not want to die. And now she acts as if she wants me as a man, but insists she does not, or at least she never has before. If she is not mad, then I have to wonder if it is me. Could I be transferring my desires onto her?
I laugh at how ridiculous that would be. That I would want her or anyone else in a humanly sexual way has never crossed my mind before her declaration of surrender. Whatever this is, it must be coming from her. I want to test my theory so I lie next to her. I feel the same desire for her blood, but that is all. I even remove her blanket and stare at her form. Still aside from admiring her beauty I don't feel the desire for her physically. I cover her again.
I lie with her and I feel nothing for her but curiosity as she lies dormant. But there is a change when she begins to come out of unconsciousness and into normal sleep. She turns and snuggles against me, and it is there. So raw it takes my breath away. Desire. Even in her sleep she makes me want her. I struggle to leave her arms without waking her. I sit in a chair across the room and watch her. I can feel her heart rate increasing as she comes into a more normal sleep pattern. I watch her and still I want her. But it is more bearable from across the room. I can feel the tension between us increase as she becomes more wakeful. Her allure is almost physical and I have to remind myself not to go to her.
Her eyes open slightly and she stretches catlike under the blanket before sitting up suddenly and throwing it off. She looks startled at where she is and her fluttering eyes find me. "I thought I was only dreaming...oh my god this is real." She notices what she is wearing and I can hear her starting to panic.
"Please, stay calm, it would not do either of us any good if you become unstable now." I watch her as she looks around the room. I can feel her allure even where I stand. She is beautiful, like a young doe poised to run. I hold myself where I stand, even though I feel drawn to her. Whatever it is at work seems to be getting stronger.
"Where are my clothes? Why am I...did you dress me in this party dress?" She looks at what she is wearing as if it somehow disgusts her. She looks down the neck of the dress and groans. "Oh god, you saw me naked! She looks at me accusingly. "What else did you do to me?" The way she moves I can tell she is trying to find out if I have violated her. Shockingly I am both repulsed and enticed by the idea. "I want out of here! Why do you keep looking at me like that?"
"Like what, bello mio?" I have no idea what she is talking about.
"You look like you want to...oh my god, just stay away from me!" She moves quickly for a human, but she is no match for me as she puts her bare feet onto the floor to flee. She makes it three quick steps toward the door before I have her in my arms. Whatever her attraction, it hits me like a tidal wave and I am drowning in her! I have mere heartbeats to calm myself and not devour her where she stands. My hands refuse to obey me as they explore her suddenly willing and yielding body. Her mouth is on mine and her arms are locked around my neck.
There is a detached part of my mind that contemplates taking all she has to offer. I am a monster – a killer who has never followed any rules but my own. I could take her sexually and enjoy what so few of us have the necessary restraint to enjoy. Once I have partaken her virgin's blood, I would be free to savor her life blood...perhaps even simultaneously. I wish I can say that I do not allow that thought a place in my mind, but I am so much weaker than that. It is there and refuses to leave while her arms are around me and her body is pressed against me. I fight a battle with myself and it is a most painful memory that makes me strong enough to pull her arms from around my neck.
I take a moment to move the heavy chest in front of the door, blocking her escape, then retreat to the far corner of the room. I can tell my speed and strength overwhelm her, but I believe I am far enough away we can both be closer to normal. "Stay away from me if you want to live. And do not try to escape me, I cannot allow that either."
She retreats to the bed and pulls the blanket over her. With her knees drawn up defensively her eyes watch me. "Please tell me, what's going on here?" Her voice is timid, and I hear the fright just beneath it's surface. "What are you doing to me that makes me want to be close to you?"
I laugh. She has no idea that she is the one with the power to shred through my control. I cannot stop laughing and I realize it has been some time since I've felt that simple release.
"You look so...beautiful when you laugh." Her total attention is focused on me. She leans toward me and closes her eyes. "The sound is so amazing...like it's reaching right into my heart." She looks momentarily angry. "Stop doing that to me!"
"You are mistaken my dove, I am not doing anything to you. While you were unconscious I bathed you and dressed you. You were nothing more to me than a body; I've seen thousands of bodies. But now that you are awake it is as if you are pulling me to you. I have never had to struggle so hard to resist the taking of a human; at least not since I was a newborn. I don't know if you can understand this, but it is as if I want you so much that I do not want you. I despise my will not being my own! I will resist you because I have determined that I will. I have never been a slave to anything, or anyone, and I am too old to start now!"
She slips from the bed and begins to pace nervously. "So, just what am I supposed to do? You won't let me leave, so am I just supposed to sit around and wait until you get hungry? Is that why you were keeping me in the fridge downstairs? What's changed that I'm in a bedroom instead, or do I even want to know?" I cannot tell if she is trying to be funny or indignant. Either way it is better than dealing with her amorous attentions.
It is difficult for me to think with her questions ringing in my ears. Her distress is also making her attraction stronger and I feel an intense desire to go to her, to calm and comfort her. "STOP!" I can feel the command in my voice and I remember how it has always had the power to demand obedience. She is still, and her wide blue eyes are locked onto me. "Listen to me, mon beau captif. I do not want to hurt you, but you are correct, this is an impossible situation. I have a plan, but it requires cooperation on your part." I see the suspicion in her eyes, but I continue. "We must leave this room. I know you do not like it, but the space in the cellar is safer for you right now. I am going to call someone who may be able to help me solve this puzzle." I watch her and she looks around the room as if considering her gains and losses. Is it worth losing the comfort of this room if it means we will not be locked in together?
"I need to use the bathroom, does yours work?" Her question is simple enough, but I didn't know the answer; what does one of my kind need with a toilet?
"Use whatever you need my pet. I do not know if it works, but the rest of the plumbing is adequately functional so it should work. Just remember that I can hear everything, and I can reach you even if you lock the door." She seems shaken at the warning, but when she steps into the small adjoining room I am relieved. I listen as she shuts the door, and the lock is turned. I cross the room and move the chest away from the door. I can hear her in the other room as she opens every drawer and cupboard. I want to laugh at this proof that she is trying to find a way out, or a way to protect herself. It seems she is not as resigned to dying as it seemed at first. I hear her flush the device and then I listen as she drinks from the sink. I step far away from the door as she comes out.
"If you keep a distance from me of twenty feet or more it should limit our...strong reactions, agreed?" She pays little attention to me as she seems to be searching for something in the room.
"Where have you put my clothes? It's cold in the basement and you can't expect me to hang out in this...dress. Why would you make me wear this hoochie mama outfit anyway?" I know she is offended, but I have no clue why that is. The dress looks lovely on her, soft and feminine and showing her womanly curves.
"Your clothes were distasteful. I burned them." Her look of shock I expect, but her outburst takes me by surprise.
"You what? You burned my clothes! My blouse, jeans, bra, underwear, shoes, socks...all of it? You can't be serious? Oh, you're a piece of work! I can't believe you stole my clothes and dressed me like some street-walking hooker and have the nerve to tell me my clothes were 'distasteful!' You have no idea!"
She is starting to get to me again as she rants, pacing back and forth between the bathroom and the bed. She expounds on common decency, modesty, and my 'warped' sense of fashion; all the while tossing her hair and using her hands to illustrate her points. Her words are quickly lost on me as her wonderful magnetism begins to pull at me.
She snaps me out of my fog when she starts to open the doors and drawers in my room. One by one she opens and shuts them, searching for...I have no idea as I have missed what she was talking about. The closet is a bare five feet from where I cower and she rifles through it and finds that for which she is searching. Still she has no idea how close I am to pouncing on her.
She is so beautiful, and her heart is beating loudly in my ears even as she all but disappears inside my closet. It is the only thing that saves her; that small barrier which blunts the overwhelming bouquet of her fragrances from me. I push the door shut, closing her inside as I flee to the hallway. I am reminded of a television cartoon – Vladmir likes TV and cartoons. In the one I recall, a small suicidal mouse is chasing a cat around the house begging to be eaten. But the cat is terrified of the mouse because it believes it to be poisoned. And the humor comes from the prey chasing the predator and causing it to be afraid to do what it is designed to do. She is my mouse!
I hear her indignant yelling from my closet before she opens the door and comes stumbling out with an armful of my clothes. I am not concerned with what she has, only with keeping her away from me. "You forgot what I told you ma petite souris, you need to stay further away from me for your safety and my peace of mind."
Her eyes are sparkling with anger and indignation. Her lips are pursed and there is bright color in her cheeks. Her beauty is almost overpowering. Thankfully she does not approach me as my grip on the doorway is crushing the wood. "You can't just destroy my clothes; that's unacceptable. You don't get it do you? You don't even think you did anything wrong." The cadence of her heart is thankfully coming back down to normal.
"No, I am afraid you are the one who lacks understanding." I level my gaze with her eyes. "I am determined not to kill you; but you must meet me half way. If you do not stop testing me, your clothes will not be the last thing I destroy!" I tear off a handful of crushed wood to illustrate my point. I watch her bright color pale as it hits her what I am capable of doing to her. We stand there frozen, looking at one another for a very long moment.
"Now, if you care to be more wary, I would like you to walk back down and through the house. Once you are in the cellar you will be much safer. Do not try to flee or fight me; I will stop you, and I may not be able to stop myself from...you do not want to know." I back up and allow her to come through the door.
"Go down the hallway, turn right and follow that hall to the stairway." She looks at me trailing a good distance behind her as she pads barefoot along the carpeted hall. She walks slowly, gazing at the architecture and occasionally caressing along the carved wood trim. At the stairway landing she stops and I hear her heart pound and her breath catch.
"This is it!" she exclaims, turning to me with her bright eyes. "This is what I came to see! I had no idea there was a window seat here; she used to sit right here to wait for her father to come home from work!" The dying rays of the setting sun are kissing her hair, and as much as she hates the dress I chose, it makes her look like a young nymph as she kneels on the bench to gaze out the window.
I stop a safe distance from her and watch her carefully. I think about how she could break the window to scream for help, or throw herself out to get away from me. But instead she just seems happy looking at it. When she stands to turn my way she is smiling in a way that would be sure to make a human man fall in love with her.
"Please, I'll go to the basement like you want, but can I look around first? I won't try to escape or cause any problems. Please?" I nod slightly and she is off. Down the hallway, peeking in through doors, looking out windows, touching wood molding and gazing at painted murals on walls and ceilings. I listen, watch, and follow her through the rooms of the upstairs. She reaches the end of the hallway and I snap out of my observations in time to yell at her not to open the last doors. She is frightened at the tone of my voice and she jumps back from the door handle she was touching.
"That is Vladmir's suite. I respect his privacy when the door is closed, whether he is here or away. His rooms are not much different than mine, except that he enjoys the modern age much more than I do. Television, stereo equipment, video games, computer and internet are all in his corner of the house. Please, do not go in there."
She steps away obediently and I curse my stupidity for telling her where she could find tools to aid in her escape or rescue. She does not look back as she heads instead for the stairway and I backtrack. Her exploration brings home just how big the house is as she goes from room to room, floor by floor. Truly it is more of a museum than a home. The time it takes for her to merely look and take note of everything stretches into the early evening. She also asked my permission to peek into boxes and look at the artwork and antiques. She is overwhelmed by the age and number of artifacts she finds tucked here and there throughout. Time and again she indicates some antique and asks me about it. Fortunately my memory is better when I have something concrete to look at and touch and I am able to fill in the details of her finds.
I have just begun to enjoy her exploration when she finishes. She stands at the door to the cellar and sadly opens it. I follow her as she treads softly on the old wooden steps and makes her way into the depths. She stands and waits patiently while I unlock the cell and then she steps into it as I close the door, locking it behind her.
"Stefan?" She looks at me from inside, chewing her bottom lip.
"Yes, what is it?" I can stand closer with her inside. The wall is sealed on all four edges, and I only hear her voice through the two way speakers.
"I don't want to die. I'll try not to be any trouble, but... please find some other way out of this."
I remember to turn up the heat for the cellar, then I leave her again and go to my house mate's suite to make a phone call. I dial the numbers from memory and listen to all the noises as the call crosses the ocean to connect. When he picks up I am trying to decide what I am going to say.
"Carlisle, this is Stefan. I need your help."
I can hear the distance of the connection. An ocean separates us and yet he knows it is me. Vladmir is my best friend, but Carlisle is the one with whom I need to speak. There are no pleasantries spoken between us; no 'how is the family, what is the weather like there?' just straight to the point. I tell him I need to see him and he asks me why. "It is a matter of life and death," I say and I am surprised to hear the timbre of my voice – I am trying to influence him. I have to calm myself, and I take several deep breaths and try to order my thoughts. I can hear her heart beating. She is three floors below me and locked away...and yet I still hear it. Calm.
"Carlisle, I need a favor...I am calling on any indebtedness you may feel for the help we....I offered when you had trouble with the...Volturi." He knows I despise them and would have crossed the ocean in a heartbeat to see them beaten. But still I hope he is grateful enough to help. I tell him a bit about my Summer, and how she has some hold on me and I need him to come and help me discover why I am so drawn to her.
"Stefan, I just can't leave without any notice like this. I have a schedule to keep, patients to see, appointments that have been booked months in advance...I can come in a week or two at best."
I know he is sincere, but my grip on the phone is threatening to crush the plastic. "Carlisle, I would not call if I were not desperate. I have barely managed to spare her life for the short time I have known her. If you cannot help me I have no choice but to kill her. I am sorry to have bothered you." I am about to hang up when I hear his pleading voice on the line.
"No! Stefan, are you still there? Don't do anything, I'll come. I'll catch the first flight out, I should be there...as soon as I can, okay? Can you hold out til I get there?"
"I will try to wait." I hang up the phone. I know I have left him with the feeling that he has to hurry if he is to save a life. Perhaps that was misleading, but I know that to appeal to a doctor it has to be life and death. But as I think about the woman in the basement I know that it is a matter of life and death. In a week or two it will be too late. I will have no choice but to kill her before Vladmir returns; he may bring others with him and there will be no way to save her if that happens.
I return to the cellar with the food I promised her, and find she has changed out of the dress. She is wearing my clothes. A white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up over her hands. She's left the top buttons open and there is no mistaking she is female in it. My pants are rolled at the cuffs and her bare feet poke out. She has tucked the shirt into the high waist of the pants and pulled a belt tightly at the middle so they don't fall off. She looks startled to see me.