Terra stands frozen to the spot. Kitchen in front of her lays in ruins. Cabinets and countertops which Adam spent tedious weeks preparing and restoring, solid marble floor she cleaned up and polished, decorative walls, pots and pans, china... Everything scattered, smashed to pieces and smeared with various contents of their pantry. Adam is still sleeping, he never gets up early in the morning if it isn't absolutely necessary, and now the bedroom feels like it's miles away, on the other side of the earth. Whoever broke in and destroyed the place is probably long gone now, but Terra can't shake the nasty feeling of being watched. She has learned to cope with pretty much everything and hates to depend on Adam, but now she has no choise but to scream his name from the top of her lungs. Sanctity of their fortress has been violated, peace is broken, and in no time Adam bursts in, his eyes scanning their surroundings, making detailed inventory of everything relevant before he turns to Terra.
"Did you see it?" He asks, pulling Terra to his side. Terra shakes her head.
"Who... Who did this?" She asks, flashes of demons dancing at the back of her mind. But they wouldn't have stopped to refurbish a kitchen. They would have torn down the whole building in their haste to retrieve Adam and Terra.
"I don't know. But I will find out," Adam promises, lets go of her and crouches to pick up a porcelain plate, seemingly the only survivor of the attack. He throws it and it lands on to the floor exploding to tiny fragments.
"Breakfast is outside," he then says, pointing to the kitchen garden behind the window.
"I'll start sorting out this mess. Get something to eat first."
Terra steps over the rubble carefully and opens the door, half expecting something to grab her as soon as she steps in to the sun outside. She knows that Adam is watching. Observing. He's her protector, but he really isn't the coddling mother hen. He needs her to be alright. He doesn't want to turn her to a wilting flower that's scared of her own shadow.
"I think I'll have some carrots," she says out loud, giving the impression that she stopped only to ponder what to eat. She can't revert back being overly hysterical damsel in distress. Behind her she can hear loud clatter of debris being pushed over the floor.
Garden is walled in, only way in and out is the kitchen door. Walls are three meters tall and thick. They were built to fend off attackers. Here she can actually relax. Rows of carrots, turnips and potatoes wait for picking. Small patch of herbs and lonely bush of blood-red roses color the air with their fragrance. She stops at the end of bench of carrots, then decides otherwise and walks to a small apple tree. It's old and gnarled, apples are small and sour, but all of a sudden she craves them far more than a carrot she would have to wash before eating. She finds two apples, ripe for picking. She sits under the tree, chews on the apple and lets her tears flow. She knows Adam can see her through the window, but it doesn't matter. He'll come to her when she's good and ready. He knows how much she needs this. Time of her own to grieve over what's lost.
Adam is more practical. He probably is disappointed that all his hard work is ruined, but in reality it doesn't matter. He has had centuries to learn to cope with setbacks. In some level he might actually be pleased that there's something to do other than daily basic chores. Victor Frankenstein built him as an experiment, but left him without a purpose. He didn't start hunting demons because of age-old grudge nor some strange, newly developed altruistic trait. He did it because demons were bugging him, but mostly because he could. It is the same with the castle, and now with the kitchen. For so many decades he had searched for a reason for his existence. Repairing the ruined kitchen is something he can do, and there is an added bonus. It will help to soothe Terra's nerves. She is getting better each day they spend here, but she is still fragile. As easily broken as the plate of china Adam broke earlier.
He puts down the batons he grabbed when Terra's scream woke him up. Rolls up his sleeves. Takes a good look of his surroundings. There really is no need for finesse. Everything is broken and ruined. Crouching down he grabs armfuls of wood, dented copper pots and pans and carries them out through second outer door of the kitchen. Stable, small shed for chickens, a pond for geese, and at the furthest corner of the walled in yard a small shed. In there he spent countless hours building and repairing. He can do it again. He lays the rubble down to a pile in front of the shed. He'll sort it all out later. Copper is good, strong but soft material. It's easy to hammer kettles, pots and pans back to shape. As for the cabinets... He'll have to find more wood and he can start building.
Empty yard makes his spine tingle. He still remembers what it was like two centuries ago. Victor had been forced to sell most of his possessions to fund his experiments, but there were couple of horses, a cow and some pigs. Panicked whinnying of a horse was the first sound Adam heard upon waking up, shortly followed by a clap of thunder.
Dark and empty stall opening directly to the yard holds a strange lure. Adam is drawn to it. Floor is bare earth, hard as stone and riddled with marks of hooves. Nobody's visited here after he escaped and let loose all the animals. Air feels cool and fresh. He can hear mice and rats scurrying around in the shadows. Then something else. A sound so silent that he's really not sure if it isn't just his own beating heart. He backs away from the darkness, in to the light. Stable doesn't feel right. And besides, he still has a lot to do, kitchen won't straighten up on itself.
Terra finishes apples and wipes the tears from her cheeks. She digs a small hole on to the ground near the apple tree and buries the cores of the fruits. With any luck seeds will grow.
When she enters the kitchen Adam is gathering last pieces of the broken furniture.
"How bad is it" Terra asks. Adam shrugs his shoulders.
"I don't have to chop wood for the stove today. We can burn what's left of the cabinets if you feel like cooking something."
"Do you have any idea who did this?" She asks. Adam shakes his head.
"I can tell who it wasn't. But I guess you figured it out yourself already. If Naberius and his hordes got back, they wouldn't have bothered with the kitchen."
"What if they come back at night?"
"I was going to stay awake. If they come back, they're in for a surprise," Adam promises.
"They're probably just kids from the village. I found some footprints outside," he hastily ads. It's a lie. Adam knows full well that Terra doesn't believe him, but it is the best explanation he can offer. There's nothing, no indicat
ion of the identity of the trespasser to be found.
"I'll start with new cabinets today, I think some of the doors can be salvaged," he says.
"What about that small kitchen at the back of the stable? Couldn't we just use that? It just needs a bit of cleaning up..."
"No. We're not going in to stable," Adam grounds out sternly and walks away with what is left of the cabinets.
Following days and nights fly past without incidents. Terra is ready to write off the intrusion as irrelevant. It happened, but they're getting ahead with the new kitchen. Adam is growing increasingly agitated, spending days in the shed, creating beautifully crafted furnitures out of scraps and thin air as it seems to Terra. He doesn't sleep. He really doesn't have to sleep often, but he's gotten used to it and lack of it grates his nerves. Lack of sleep must be the sole reason for his sour mood Terra decides, because nothing else has changed.
He's sitting on a bright patch of sun right outside of the shed, his eyes fixed to the door of the stable. Hinges of it are a bit lopsided so it won't shut properly. The longer he spends staring at it, hanging slightly ajar, more it gets on him. It's slowly dawning on him that he's afraid of it. Afraid of the darkness behind it. He stands up and picks the hammer. Grabs a handful of sturdy nails. Walks to the door with stiff legs, small hairs at the back of his neck bristling, rising as if he were facing a formidable threat. Angry and frustrated, unable to understand his reaction towards the building he slams the door forcibly shut and secures it in place with nails, driving them in with such force that they disappear in to wooden frame altogether.
Task completed. Threat eliminated. But for some reason he can't make himself turn his back to the door. He backs away from it slowly, seeking the illusion of safety from the rickety shed and scent of freshly sawed wood.
Fear is something he understands well. It's ingrained in to his very core, alongside with rage. They go hand to hand, forcing him to move and react. It took him decades to reign them, and now both are running rampant through his veins and pounding heart. All because of a small noise he may, or may not have heard. Somebody whispering his name in the deepest shadow of the stable.
Sun is setting. Terra keeps watching at the door of the shed. Adam has been cooped up in there all day. She tried calling him earlier, walked to the door and knocked on it. He wouldn't open the door, claimed that he was preparing a surprise for her. Soon he'd had to come out. They had taken the habit of locking all the doors and barricading them before Terra went to bed. It was Adam's idea, but for Terra it had sounded a good one. She isn't sure about it anymore. Almost a week has passed from the attack, and nothing has happened. Still Adam insists that it's better to be safe than sorry. So she sits at the doorway, sun creeping lower on the reddening sky and waits for Adam. It's unnerving, but at the same time strangely comforting. She knows that at any minute now he will step out, stretching his back and pretending to be all tired and worn out. She knows it takes a lot more to wear Adam out than simple tasks of a carpenter, but it's nice to know that he's willing to put up a show of normalcy, if not for else, at least to give her an impression that they're alike.
She thinks of Adam as a man, but every now and then she's forced to acknowledge the fact that he's more than a normal man. He doesn't need to sleep or eat very often. He's strong. Not a Superman but strong enough to overpower demons. He heals from scrapes and bruises in hours. Real, bleeding wounds and broken bones? Few days in bed and he's as good as new. She doesn't understand how Victor Frankenstein was able to create such a marvel from a collection of stolen body parts and electricity, on an era when even basic medicine was considered witchcraft, but she's grateful of Adam. He's loyal to the fault, considerate and gentle, and most of the time everything Terra could need in this world.
Footsteps echoing behind her in the castle wake her from her musings. She stands up, wiping small speckles of dust from her palms. When did Adam came in? And how did he get past her? She takes a step in, then hastily backs out realizing that it isn't Adam, can't be Adam because the door of the shed is opening and he's just stepping out of there.
"Somebody's in the castle!" She shouts a warning. Adam straightens his back immediately. He's reaching for his weapons but his hands grasp for air. Batons are in their bedroom, it has been so quiet so long that it felt rather foolish to carry them around.
"Wait here," he says and enters the kitchen.
Minutes pass. They're longest minutes in Terra's remembered life. She's holding her breath when Adam finally returns carrying his weapons.
"There's nobody in there."
"But I heard footsteps..."
"They probably left when you called me," Adam says. He means every word he says, Terra can see it in his eyes. Still, she has to be sure.
"You do believe me, don't you?" She asks. Adam nods.
"Probably the same group of brats that broke the kitchen. Came to see what else they could do, got scared when we were awake. Nothing to worry about..." He tries his best to keep the tone of his voice light.
"Just kids from the village. On their bikes," Terra plays along, but her act isn't as convincing. She's not as trained in the finer art of denial as Adam.
"this place has been deserted so long. They probably didn't even know that we're here," Adam says, then chokes out a croak that reminds distantly laughter.
"Well, they have bunch of new ghost stories to spread around... And we have some doors to lock. We better get going so that you can go to sleep."
Neighter of them comments the fact that all doors besides those leading out from the kitchen are already locked. Many nights Terra has complained when Adam has pulled a chair in front of the door of the bedroom to sit on instead of coming in to bed with her, but not tonight. When full moon lights the room with silvery ray Adam sits at the center of it, batons at hand. Only sign of life is the small vein at the side of his throat, partially marred with a scar, pulsing steadily to the rhythm of his heart.