Page 22 of Kept 2
She hissed then, a deep and satisfied sound which once would have chilled me to the bone. But I felt nothing, only cold, a corpse already, as she sunk her teeth into my neck and tore off my clothes.
And now, I wait.
New Entry,
What sin have I done, what transgression have I made, that my fate should be so woeful? And yet, does God even exist? I think not now. In fact, as I write what occurred last night, I know he does not.
“Just kill me, Elsbeth, for I tire of you, I tire of all this,” I frowned as I waved my hand at her naked body, lolling on the couch before the crackling fire. It has been months since Constance was laid to rest, and still, this monster refused to keep to our bargain and kill me.
“I do not wish to lose you yet, Nicky. I wish to keep you longer.”
“If you do not kill me, I will leave. Either way, you will not have me.”
“You keep forgetting, silly man,” she giggled, “you are Kept, wherever you go I will find you – I can track your blood as easily as a fox tracks a rabbit.”
“Then, I shall find a way to have myself murdered. My grief is so strong, my will to live so little, can’t you understand this?
“Why not simply cut your own throat?” she snorts.
“Would that kill me?”
“No, but I wonder you have not tried it.”
“The Lord decrees suicide a sin.”
“The Lord,” she laughs, “where was your Lord when your precious wife wilted away?”
I suddenly grew still. In all the time I had served this wicked creature, I had never once told her that Constance was my wife.
“How did you know the one I grieved for was my wife?”
“Your stupid bitch step-mother, of course,” she rolled her eyes.
“My mother?”
“Didn’t I tell you? It must have slipped my mind. I visited her last year. I wanted to see where my darling boy was born and raised. A most interesting and enjoyable visit, I must say.”
I stood perfectly still as I recalled Molly’s discussion with me. Hadn’t she said a rich woman had visited my mother, and not long after, Constance was made a virtual slave, and our priest disappeared?
“You killed my priest.”
“Fool,” she laughed, “I paid him handsomely for his information, and he moved to Ireland, last I heard, to start afresh as a wealthy landowner.”
“You lie.”
“Why would I bother?” she giggled, “he told us he had valuable information and would relay it for a price, which he duly did – you silly boy, marrying in secret. Nothing good ever comes from such subterfuge, you know, and nothing good comes from trusting a priest – they deal in lies on a daily basis.”
“It was you,” I hissed, “you told Mother to work Constance to the bone. You told her to forbid letters to me – you signed her death warrant.”
“You did that yourself, you coward. Marrying her in secret rather than going against your father’s word – the work of a boy, not a man. As for forbidding her to write, I did no such thing. I merely informed her of our relationship. Look to your mother for any other decisions in that regard.”
“What are you?” I groan? “What fiend from hell? What creature? What monster?”
“I am a vampire,” she laughed, “isn’t it obvious?”
“You are an abomination,” I spat.
I launched myself at her then, intending to strangle her, or beat her to death, no weapons being to hand. But she was fast, as always, and flitted to the other side of the room before I could lay a finger on her.
