Untamed: A Beautiful Nightmare Story Page 13

  Even more, can I really do this?

  “Chartreuse,” Dalcour calls my name, making his way to my side, regaining my attention. “You are stronger than you know. I’ve witnessed your strength firsthand, and I have no doubt you will conquer this. Besides, resisting bloodlust is only a part of your taming trials.”

  “There’s more?” I ask.

  “Oh yes, young one, much more,” Dalcour says, opening his arm so that I may loop mine with his. Waving over his shoulder at Titan, we continue down the hall, passing several Scourge on our way.

  Some resemble the first lizard-like creature I encountered at my arrival, while others closely resemble more human features like that of the young vampire girl. “What’s happening to this one?” I question, watching large fountains of blood fill the room as the vampire stands still in the center, quivering in fear.

  “Ah, it is the last trial. Bloodletting. If this one can remain in this room without taking one drop of blood, the gates will open, and they can go free to live among society.”

  “And if not?”

  “They die. For good this time.”

  “For just one drop? How is that fair?”

  “Yes, they must resist even one drop. They must learn that when they are among humans even one drop can bring drastic consequences. To reach this stage a vampire must have passed earlier stages like bloodlust. Like Titan’s newest feign, Braelyn, young Scourge have several attempts to master their control around mortals. But once they’ve reached this phase, they must endure it until the end.”

  “How long does this trial last?”

  “It is different for each. Some only require an hour. Some a full day. It depends on how well they mastered their other tasks. Using the example of Braelyn, she keeps circling back to bloodlust, because she’s fearful of the final test.”

  “And she’s afraid she won’t make it,” I fearfully whisper.

  “Do not worry, things will be different for you. I promise.” While Dalcour’s tone is sure, my doubts weigh heavy.

  “How do you know that? What if I’m not as strong as you think?”

  “Because unlike most of the vampires here, you will be sired. By me.”

  “I don’t understand. Aren’t all of these vampires sired by someone?”

  “No, young one. They were all bitten, yes. And it was that bite which caused them to turn into vampires. Perhaps they were bitten by one like me an Altrinion-Vampire, or at the hand of a mortal-made vampire. But only Altrinion-Vampires can sire another vampire, creating a new strain, a familial bond. It is this sire bond that makes your transition different from all others. Your strength will be almost comparable to my own as you carry my blood within you. My strength will be yours. With exception to my supernaturality blessed by the Order of Altrinion, your power will rival that of any mere mortal-made vampire.”

  “So the sire bond makes me stronger—much stronger,” I say on a gulp, as the totality of Dalcour’s words ring aloud in my mind.

  “Yes, young one,” he laughs.

  “But why me? I’m nothing special—as your brother has clearly stated,” I whisper, uncertainty once again filling my mind.

  “Oh you are more than special, Chartreuse. You are exceptional. Even Decaux could see that in you. Truthfully, though it doesn’t matter whether he sees it or not—you must know it. And something tells me you do. Even if your thoughts sway a bit, you know you are made for more. Don’t you?”

  Dalcour’s words stir something in me I had pushed aside as just a mere way to cope with my life. From the way I managed my business at the saloon, to the manner in which I dealt with both Mother and Monroe—I have always known I deserved and was meant to experience more in life. Perhaps it was the early seeds Calida sowed in my young life, or that I had to mature faster than most, I don’t know. What I do know is that this is the life I want. It is the life I’ve always wanted.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Walking through the taming wells, Dalcour points out vampires at various points in their transition. Some are faring better than others, working hard to curb their bloodlust, while others succumb to temptation, sealing their fates.

  One such vampire could not withstand the bloodletting phase and plunged himself under the small fountain of blood. No sooner than the first drop hit his ravenous mouth, a tall man, who slightly resembled Titan, decapitated the feign and lit the remaining part of his body aflame.

  Cringing at the sight, I turned into Dalcour’s arms, shielding myself from the horror of it all. As Dalcour tried to comfort me, I let myself peek at the sight of his ashing flesh. This will not be your fate, Chartreuse. I muttered the words like a mantra. Although I know such an outcome may be possible for me, I know I have the will to fight my carnality. I must.

  A more curious vampire entering the last phase of her taming, intrigued me the most.

  “What is happening here?” I ask Dalcour, surprised to find a man holding the hands of the vampire as the final test began.

  “Ah, yes, this is an interesting one,” Dalcour begins with a proud smile. “The woman, her name is Abigail. We found her on the same venture as we did the first one you met tonight—Braelyn. But this one is a fighter. She was too much for Titan. One of my halfling companions, Cedric, took exception to her and she to him. As time went by, she only took direction from him, so he took on the task of taming her alone. I dare say their taming became more intimate than most, but I digress. Cedric gave into the Altrinion curse of blood so that he would tame himself with her. Strange gesture of love, I know, but it is the lengths he went through to be one with her in every way. Now here he stands with her in the final hour. Whatever comes of this pair, I know one thing—they will be inseparable.” I watch as Dalcour’s latter words cling to him and the weight of his sentiment strikes my heart hard.

  “I’ve never known such companionship,” I quietly say, watching the man grip the woman’s hands as blood fountains pour all around them.

  “Nor have I,” Dalcour whispers back, his eyes distant. Staring at him, a glimmer of his vulnerability is revealed to me and I am beginning to understand why having a family of his own is so important. Before I have a chance to pry further, he forces his throat clear and turns quickly on his heel, pulling us away from the glass chamber of the man and woman. “So, young one,” he starts, squaring his shoulder and narrowing his gaze. “Are you still certain this is what you want?”

  “Yes, my lord, I am certain. Family is all I’ve ever wanted and if it must be a family of the night then so be it,” I answer, more sure than I have ever been.

  “That is good to know. Then there is one final matter to discuss,” he says with darkness filling his face. “While you will undoubtedly have a host of new family, you will also be departed from the world you once knew. No longer walking in the light of the sun, we are indeed of the order of night. Even after you master your impulses and completed your training, you will never be able to be a part of the world as you were accustomed. Until you get your feeding under control, your time with Chalmette and other humans may be limited—and even still after then. It takes more than a great deal of restraint to walk among mortals. It requires a willpower that too few have in their formative years. Do you understand?”

  “What about DeLuca? He is the only companion I have.” My sulking comes across more pitiful than I intend. At least Chalmette will be too busy being a wife to miss me. I am all DeLuca has.

  “I understand, young one. That is why I pushed him so hard before we left the mansion. Being part Altrinion his blood may call to you stronger than most. I’d like to keep him around and introduce him to the others, but it may take some time before you can stand to be around him without his blood calling to you,” Dalcour answers, still searching my face for understanding.

  “And what of you, my lord? You are also Altrinion. Will your blood call to me also?” I question.

  “Yes and no. There may be a faint desire, but the sire bond will override
that impulse. Of that I am sure. And since you’ll share a slight familial bond with Decaux, you should be fine around him as well.”

  I can’t help rolling my eyes at the mention of Decaux’s name. While I know his intentions are innocent, my gut tells me he still wishes Decaux and I to be a pair. I have no interest in being with someone who thinks the sight of me is laughable.

  Dalcour frowns as I try to force my disdain of Decaux to the four corners of my mind, hopeful my expression doesn’t mirror my thoughts.

  “Now, Chartreuse—” Dalcour starts, his censuring tone, rings aloud in my ear.

  Before he can begin his rebuke, a loud bell rings and echoes of screeching pierce my ears.

  “Dalcour! What is happening?” I yell, cupping my ears beneath my palms. Although his hearing is impeccable, he can barely make out my words as he too looks around the corridor, dread filling his face.

  In a blink Dalcour scoops me in his arms, flinging me over his shoulder and carries us with the speed of Mercury through the corridor. We are back to the main hall before I have a moment to process it all and he places me down, protectively at his side as he surveys the area.

  “Lord Marchand!” Titan and another man shout Dalcour’s name in unison, rushing up behind us.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Dalcour growls back.

  “Wolf attack!” Titan quickly responds.

  “Wolves?” I mutter under my breath, surprised by this new revelation.

  “By some means they’ve breached the halls, my lord. We also have a few open Scourge cages as well,” the other man replies, keeping his eyes square on Dalcour. Titan gives a quick nod to me as I stammer behind Dalcour’s hulking arms, holding tight to his forearm.

  “This is totally unacceptable! What of my brother? Is he party to this?”

  “No, my lord,” Titan answers, turning about as the shrieking sounds grow louder. “He was equally surprised while feeding. He’s taken a bunker. You should do the same.”

  “Absolutely not!” Dalcour snaps. “I’ll not duck for cover in the confines of my own walls.” As he speaks, he lifts me in his arms, once more taking flight across the hall and placing me inside an empty glass chamber. “Lock the door!” He shouts to Titan and I rush forward, banging my hand on the thick clear wall just as Titan pulls the large door shut. “I’m sorry, Chartreuse, but this is for your safety. You’ll be fine in here until I return. Stay low to the ground so no one and nothing sees you. Do you understand?” He barks his orders to me, and I only nod my head in understanding. With his eyes falling briefly, I know while he is hesitant to leave me like this, he is only doing what he believes is best.

  Dalcour and the others are out of my eyesight in a flash. Backing myself into a corner, I press against the concrete wall as the earsplitting screeching sound echoing through the halls rattles me to my core.

  Is this really the world I want to enter?

  Loud growling and bellowing roars shatter the hollow dissonance of the halls and I cave, pulling my knees to my chest. Memories of the word wolf rings through me and I shudder for fear there is more to this supernatural world than I first believed. I still do not know what Armando—a Bulwark—is nor has Dalcour explained it to me fully. And now there are wolves?

  I cannot help the gnawing feeling in my gut there is more he has yet to share. Maybe he is just trying to protect me? Or perhaps it’s all too much too soon? I don’t know. In any case, it’s only fair that if we are truly to be family, that I finally understand all I need to know about this new world.

  The stirring noises around me continue to fill me with fear, but I do what I’ve always done when I’m afraid; close my eyes and take deep breaths. As has been my routine at the saloon, I hum, forcing my mind to the darkest parts of my depths. It is the place where I am not a victim, but the victor. It is where I replace the reality of allowing a drunkard into my preciousness with thoughts of me separating the fool’s head from his body, discarding his worthless manhood into the same abyss I’ve sent countless others.

  This is my dark place.

  This is where I feel safe.

  Once more, for fear, I have need to send my mind to my dark comfort. This time, instead as proxy for dreadful tippers from the saloon, I imagine that of vampires and wolves. Envisioning what I would do should their threat reach beyond my ears, minces the muddled places of my mind. I have never seen a supernatural wolf but if the thought of them caused such a panic in even Dalcour Marchand and Titan, I wonder if the same parlor trick I used to ease my fears is perhaps useful in such a case.

  Clamoring shouts and clattering sounds still resound around me and I pull my knees to my chin, and tuck my feet under my bottom. The normal murkiness of the hall is replaced by a shroud of a thick dark veiling, ominous form that moves through the corridor and under my door.

  Black smoke moves beneath the crack of the large glass encasement and fills through the metal piping along the wall. The stench of charcoal and burning ash stings my nostrils, filling my lungs and sucking the oxygen from me.

  Pressing myself against the wall, I struggle to breathe and the formless thick and black cloud looms over me. Although I see no one in the room, I feel something pushing me to the ground as if a foot were lodged between my neck and chin. Working hard to push myself up from the floor, my strength is useless as I gag while the thick gaseousness flumes within me.

  “This one is strong. She is not weak,” a deep yet melodic voice calls from the shadowy darkness now filling this hollowed space.

  “But is she worthy?” Another voice angrily whispers back, as my eyes bulge at the wraith-like creatures taking form before my eyes.

  “Yes, she is. Sift her mind, sister,” the first formless creature replies with a lighter tone.

  “Dark as night. Mold as clay,” the second answers and they both cackle, causing the thick smoke to gather about them, granting a slight outline of their phantom-like form. “She makes parry in her mind. She does not trust him. There is doubt in her heart. Filled with murderous folly.”

  “I am no murderer!” I shout back, wondering if this is all part of Dalcour’s plan. Is this the beginning of my taming?

  Both of the formless phantoms cackle once more in unison, their smoke thickens, and my breathing becomes more labored. Still I struggle beneath their ominous hold, hopeful to get up from whatever is holding me down.

  “Provocation starts in the mind, my dear Chartreuse,” the first voice whispers back. But this time something is different. If I did not know better, I would think somehow they have formed the shape of my dead sister, Calida’s face in their shadowy haze. Blinking my eyes, I try to make sense of Calida’s image before me and I try to reach out to take hold of her, but my hands graze through their ghastly mist.

  “Calida!” I scream with tears rushing from behind my closed lids, marring my face.

  “And what would Calida want you to do, dear?” The same one calls to me.

  “Protect yourself,” the other answers in an almost condemning tone.

  As they speak, harrowing images of Calida being dragged in the streets and tied to a post form in their ghastly veil. I struggle to say Calida’s name once more, but my own words fail me and I writhe on the floor watching, in horror, as my dear sister’s body burns on the wooden post. Shouts, laughing, and cheers erupt as phrases like, burn the witch, rivet through the chorus of murderous pawns.

  My sister’s screams and pleas go deaf in their ears as the fire they lit grows and her flesh melts into the wooden beam.

  “Stop this!” I cry, wanting such images to flee from my sight.

  My memories of the day my sister was taken have always been too hazy to recall. All I remember is Mother rushing back to our home and for fear closing the curtains and commanding both Victoria and I to hide in the closet. Faint thoughts of men shouting outside our home have always haunted my mind. The only time she showed even an ounce of parental care, Mother nestled us in her arms and told us n
ot to worry, even as the banging became incessant.

  But then the clamor from outside our home ended. Silence hollowed the halls of our home and Mother feared the men were lulling us to a false sense of security. Thankfully, she was wrong. When she finally got courage to open the closet door it was Dalcour Marchand staring back at us.

  He saved us.

  “Saved you that time, yes. This time you must save yourself,” the gruff one barks at me as the colorful memories of him carrying me in his arms score through my mind.

  “Save myself?” I whisper back.

  “Yes,” the wraiths answer in unison.

  Slowly, the weight once at my throat lessens and my breathing eases. I push myself up from the floor and back into the corner, keeping a wary watch of the shapeless creatures before me.

  “Who—no—what are you?” I ask as the screeching and howling sounds around us grow and I no longer think any of this is a part of Dalcour’s plan for me.

  “We are never a part of the plan of tertiary creation!” I hear the more demure one answer my hidden thoughts. “Now tell us, young one, would you like the power to save yourself?”

  “There is no power you can offer that Lord Marchand cannot give,” I haughtily reply.

  “Do you think he cares to save you, foolish child? He only cares to pervert your power for his own. If you benefit then so be it. But always know, he shall always be the benefactor of whatever comes from you. Protect you, he might. Save you, he will not!” The harsher-toned wraith whips its words, striking me in one hard blow.

  “I don’t believe you!” I protest.

  “Then believe this,” the softer one replies, revealing another shadowy image.

  The face of a man I have never seen forms within her phantom form and my mind goes blank trying to make out who this man is.

  “I don’t know this man,” I quietly reply.

  “Ah, but you should, dear one. His name is Elias Peyroux.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I laugh. “You must have me confused. I have never seen this man or heard of his name before.”