Page 50 of Now Comes the Mist

With one hand still playing, he takes the other and pulls the nightdress farther down to expose my left breast. His cold fingers cup me tenderly as his thumb finds my nipple, sending waves of unbearable excitement through me. Never have I been touched this way, and I wonder how on earth I have lived without it before now. I lean fully against him, not caring if I send us both over the back of the stool, but he is like solid granite resisting me. His thumb strokes, his mouth tastes, and I no longer have any idea what melody I am playing.

I am as wet where I sit as if I had lowered myself into the ocean. As the music escalates into a rising crescendo, I feel as though I am running up, up, up a hill with my arms flung wide open, anticipating the blissful moment when I will plummet down the other side.

Vlad’s hand leaves my breast to find my throat. I feel a sharp, hot sting as his fingernails scratch the skin below my ear, and then his mouth is there, sucking greedily at my blood, though he is careful to keep his teeth away. I close my eyes and let out a long moan as the downhill comes and colors explode behind my lids. It is as exhilarating a freefall as jumping off the cliffs toward certain death. My hands drop away from the harp at last and I shake like a leaf in his arms, gripped by overwhelming sensations, as he finishes drinking me with a soft kiss.

His low laugh tickles my ear. “Sleep now, Lucy. I will see you again soon.”

I blink my eyes, and the candlelit parlor is gone. I am lying in bed next to Mina, who is fast asleep with her cheek pillowed on her hand. Outside the window, the sky is still dark, and my room is wreathed in shadows as though I have been here all night, like I am supposed to be.

Like a good girl should be.

But when I sit up and meet the eyes of my own reflection in the mirror above my dressing table, I see that my disheveled hair is coming out of its plait and my nightdress is pooling around my waist. I am damp between my legs, and when I touch the left side of my neck, I gasp when my fingers come away with the faintest trace of blood.

I cannot help smiling at my reflection because I know that I am not a good girl.

I am not a good girl at all.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

All my life, I have believed one truth: that I am born to marry, to give birth, and then die.

Never in the farthest reaches of my trapped and anguished soul had I ever imagined an alternative. Never in my duality—half of me resigned to the expectations of society and the other half yearning for the grave—had I considered that there might be a way out.

Now, I know that it is possible to cheat death and to live on without bending to the rules of humanity. My soul has heard the music of immortality, of boundless time to do everything I have ever dreamed of doing, and now that it has awakened, it will never sleep again.

Vampyr. Vampire.The words run through my mind like a melody.

Vlad does not summon me for a week after our duet, and outwardly, I am as obedient to Mamma and Mina as they could wish: I sleep all night without leaving my bed, pay calls whenever they ask me to, and pretend to choose flowers and linens for my wedding. But inside, I am reliving that evening over and over again and rejoicing that I will never have to leave the ones I love. Death would have freed me, but also torn me from Mamma, Mina, and Arthur. I would have inflicted upon them the same pain that has tortured me since Papa’s passing.

Now, they will have me forever and I will love them for as long as they live. I can marry Arthur and make him happy, knowing it will not be the end for me. After him, there will be infinite centuries in which I can walk the earth and savor my freedom.

Vlad had spoken carelessly of the limitations of his power, and they would mean just as little to me. I could feed on animal blood and not harm a soul. I could sleep during the day to avoid the sun. And I wouldnever be alone. I would have Vlad to teach me, guide me, and protect me for eternity, and in return, I would be his lover and confidante and stave off his loneliness.

I am not so silly as to imagine perfection, nor would I want anything like an eternal marriage. I desire him, admire him, and yes, I care for him … but he has tendencies that disturb me, not least of all the invasion of my mind at will. If the need arose, we could occupy separate countries or even continents for as many years as we wished, and then find each other again.

I have thought it all over. And I am finally happy, so happy I could dance and sing.

That is what I tell Arthur, even if he does not believe me. He came back to Whitby from London two nights ago and keeps watching me in a thoughtful way. Not once have I made any inappropriate advances toward him, and my new reticence worries him.

“Lucy, are you angry with me?” he asks wistfully.

It is a bright, sunny morning in mid-August, so warm that Mamma proposed breakfast in the garden. And then, so smoothly that it could only have been planned, she and Mina vanished into the house with excuses, leaving me alone with Arthur. I am seated by the rosebush, watching butterflies float by as blithely as if they could never die. But theywilldie. Everything dies. It is only Vlad who lives on, and I wish to live on beside him.

I smile across the table at Arthur. “Why would I be angry with you after you came all this way, and I missed you so much, and you brought us such lovely gifts?” Thoughtful, generous Arthur had come bearing flowers and trinkets for everyone, even Mina, and had presented me with a sapphire necklace, another heirloom piece from his family’s vault.

“I don’t know,” he says. “You have been quieter than usual. Pensive, I think.”

I laugh. “What should I be pensive for? I am with the people I love best in all the world, it is a beautiful day, and I feel as though I could live forever and ever and ever.” I lean back in my chair and stretch my arms lazily toward the brilliant blue sky.

Arthur relaxes, hearing me laugh. “And you haven’t kissed me once yet,” he says shyly.

“How neglectful of me,” I say playfully. “Come over here and I will make amends.”

He gets up at once and moves around the table, bending down to meet my lips. I breathe in his familiar pine scent, enjoying the feel of his mouthmoving gently on mine. He kisses with such consideration, never asking more of me than I give, a sharp contrast to Vlad’s possessiveness. Thinking of Vlad as I kiss Arthur is so jarring that I pull away before I mean to. The concern comes back into Arthur’s expression, and I reach up to touch his face, soothing him.

“I love you,” he says, with such artless truth in his honest hazel eyes that I impulsively wrap my arms around his neck, moved almost to tears. He kneels in the grass beside my chair and gathers me close to him, as he had done the night he had proposed.

I kiss his cheek. “And I love you. I’m sorry for worrying you. I didn’t mean to.”

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