Chapter Two

"I thought you were dead," the words slipped off his tongue in a whisper as he gaped at the figure before him.

Sibella stood there, shining in the moonlight, her skin glittering like stars, her hair a golden halo around her pale face. Monty wanted nothing more than to reach out and kiss her.

"I was there at your funeral," he started, "I watched them bury you, Sibella." He sat up in bed, wondering if she would disappear if he got too close.

Sibella said nothing. She just stood there; her face pensive, her mood unreadable. She walked over to the bed slowly as he took in her beauty, her pink dress a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin.

"They buried you, darling, stuck you in a casket," Monty went on, trying to make sense of it all.

Again, she spoke not a word. She stared at him with eyes that held a sharp, dangerous glint in them, sending off red flags to Monty. Her movements were quicker, almost too fast. Her skin was still sparkling even though she had moved out of the moonlight and the fact that she was silent was alarming to him. He had expected her to come running into his arms, crying out his name in happiness. Instead she was taciturn and strangely quiet.

He glanced over at the spot where Phoebe should have been and found it empty. For a moment, he wondered about her whereabouts, but then Sibella took his hand. He nearly jumped, for her skin was freezing to the touch. Even still, he smiled at her, "I'm so glad you're back."

She looked up at him and smiled in return, showing him her sharp, pointed teeth. Monty froze.

Her grip on his hand became a crushing force, her eyes turned lustful, and her smile curved into a terrifying grin.

"You're… You're a-", he stuttered, as she leaned in to bite his throat.

As her teeth were about to penetrate his skin, Monty woke up, sweating, his heart pounding violently in his chest.

"Monty, Monty, darling, it was just a dream," Phoebe said consolingly, as he bolted upright and gripped his hair, trying to renew his sense of reality.

"I thought- I thought she was here, that she was a vampire, part of the Undead and that she was going to bite me…"

"It was just a nightmare, love, it wasn't real," said Phoebe, kissing his cheek. She took his hand in hers, longing to be a comforting presence for him. She bit her lip, not wanting to admit that she was also having dreams about Sibella returning from the dead.

"It just seemed so real," Monty went on, "I guess what the groundskeeper said really stuck with me."

"Darling, that man was crazy. He works with dead people and coffins all day, what he said couldn't possibly be true," explained Phoebe.

"Then how do you explain the marks on Sibella's throat?" he asked.

"Maybe we were a bit too rough the last time we made love," she suggested, "Or maybe Lionel had…" She stopped talking as soon as she saw Monty's face twist in rage at her insinuation. She sighed. "Whatever the reason, it's definitely not because she's turned into the Undead."

Monty sighed, nodding, "I guess you're right. I'm sorry… I just miss her."

Her eyes bore into his, "I know," she gripped his hand tightly, "I miss her too."

"We should have been there for her, we should have taken care of her," he moaned.

"I know. We had just seen her two weeks before and she had seemed fine." Phoebe leaned her head on his chest and glanced up at him as he fell silent for a beat.

"What if this is my fault?"

"Oh, Monty, don't say such things! It is not your fault. She was just sick, you couldn't have done anything!" she told him.

"She just died so suddenly," he whispered, thinking on how the blonde woman had come to Highhurst for the last time and they had all taken a walk in the gardens. Sibella had been just fine, happy even. She had been telling Monty and Phoebe about her plans to go abroad, and how boring life was whenever Lionel was around. She had had things going for her, events to look forward to.

"She's gone now Monty," said Phoebe gently as she started to braid her hair again after some parts had come loose. "We have to live with that."

"I'm glad I still have you," he said kissing her.

She smiled. "Let's try to go back to sleep," she advised him, thinking back on her own nightmare, trying to get it out of her head.

Monty nodded, kissed her hair. Phoebe turned off the light and fell asleep on his chest, with dreams of Sibella still coming to both of them.

In the morning, Monty awoke and rose before Phoebe, going downstairs to eat some breakfast. A servant brought him the newspaper as he sat down to eat at the dining room table. Monty opened it up as he sipped on his tea, hearing Phoebe's footsteps on the stairs. His eyes glanced over the page before a certain column caught his eye.

LIONEL HOLLAND FOUND DEAD IN HOME.

Phoebe came in just as Monty had finished the column, finding out that the death had occurred yesterday, just five days after Sibella's.

"Lionel Holland is dead," stated Monty upon Phoebe sitting down next to him.

"What?"

"He's dead," he repeated, "The police don't expect foul play, but they think it was either from old age or shock. He died yesterday evening."

"That's surprising, although he was getting up there in age," remarked Phoebe. She took the paper from him to read the article herself.

"I'm just disappointed I didn't get the chance to kill him myself," Monty muttered bitterly.

Phoebe frowned, "Monty, don't say such things!"

He took the paper back from her and glanced over it once more. "He was an awful husband to her," he remarked, "He left her to waste away in that damned house, controlled her every move, he thought of her more as a china doll than a human being."

"Don't get yourself all worked up now, dear," Phoebe warned him.

"He was a damned fool who didn't deserve her!" Monty exploded, slamming the newspaper down on the table.

Phoebe bit her lip and arched her eyebrow at him, waiting for him to apologize and calm down.

He sighed and put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed and upset." He looked up at her, "Can you forgive me?" he asked her, coming over and kissing her hand.

She nodded. "I accept your apology, I just wish you would stop torturing yourself like this, darling," she told him, "It's not good for you. Why don't you go on and rest?" she urged.

He nodded and left, going up to the master bedroom to try and calm down.

Phoebe watched him walk away before she took the newspaper off the table and threw it into the fire. She then went into the parlor and sat down with a cup of tea, trying to regain her bearings.

It had been hard being the sole comfort to Monty during these times, with a lack of reciprocation on Monty's part. She loved him very much, and yet she always had felt like he had loved Sibella more than he had loved her. This wallowing and self-loathing act just proved to her that it was true. Although she tried not to dwell on it, it bothered her a bit that Monty was so hung up on a dead woman, when he had her, a living woman, a woman who would do anything for him.

She attempted to read her book, Dracula, but found that she was too upset and bothered by what Monty had said about Sibella maybe being the Undead. She put the book down for another time. It must have been the book in the first place that had become the basis of her nightmares about Sibella, surely nothing more.

Phoebe finished her tea and went up to the bedroom to see how Monty was. He was sitting on the bed, staring in front of him with a cup of tea. She sat down next to him and leaned against him tenderly.

"I wish I could have saved her," he lamented softly. Phoebe nodded. "I wish we could have too," she agreed.

"I loved her," said Monty quietly.

"I loved her too," said Phoebe, "I loved her too."