Page 40 of Wynter's Bite

Chapter Seventeen

The minutes passed like eons for Bethany. And at least once an hour, she had to pinch herself to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. She wasn’t mad after all. Vampires were real, and Justus had come for her at last. She would be free from this horrid place.

Knowing that her time imprisoned in Morningside was coming to an end made the wait excruciatingly painful. It seemed her anxiousness was infectious, for her fellow patients seemed especially unruly this day. Carol, who lived in the cell beside hers, erupted into a stream of curses at the breakfast table, which in turn had made Bess scream until both had to be taken away. Susan, a woman who alternated between episodes of violence and periods of catatonia suddenly flung her bowl of porridge into Bethany’s face.

Normally, this would have been quite vexing, but today Bethany was almost pleased, for that meant she could have a bath and be clean for when Justus came. She didn’t even mind when the nurse scrubbed her skin raw with caustic soap and a rough bristled brush.

The nurse frowned as she rinsed Bethany’s hair. “We’ll have to shave you lot again soon before the lice come. I’ll recommend that we do so before the good doctor departs for his holiday.”

Bethany bit back a triumphant smirk. When Justus freed her, she’d never be shaved again. As it was, her once waist-length mass of golden curls that he’d so loved was reduced to a dulled mess that coiled about her shoulders. Had he been disappointed to see her hair thus?

It didn’t matter. It would grow back and they’d finally be together.

When her bath was finished, Bethany was led back downstairs to walk the garden with Doctor Keene and the more well-behaved women.

Usually, Bethany savored her brief periods outdoors, feeling the sun on her face and breathing the fresh country air, but today she lamented that reflection time in the garden meant that it was only mid-afternoon. Even worse, it was May, which meant the days were growing ever longer.

Eleanor touched her arm as Bethany stared at the thorns on a rose bush, thinking of Justus’s fangs. “You’ve been quiet today. Are you well?”

“Oh yes,” Bethany nodded quickly. The last thing she needed was to be sent to the infirmary. Eleanor was notorious for being convinced that every person she spoke to was on the verge of being stricken with the plague. “I am only wondering when these will be in full bloom.”

“I dread the day,” Eleanor said with pinched expression. “Flowers make me sneeze dreadfully.”

Doctor Keene droned on about rest and reflection, gazing at each of his patients in turn. Whenever his eyes landed on Bethany, she fought to maintain composure. Surely she was imagining that his attention remained fixed on her longer than the others.

But once they filed back inside the asylum, the doctor pulled her aside. “I can’t help but notice that you appear flushed, Miss Mead. Are you feeling overstimulated?”

“Oh, no, Doctor.” Bethany fought to keep her voice level. “I am very calm.” If he thought otherwise, he would drug her with his tonic, or worse, put her in the quiet room, where Justus couldn’t get to her.

He eyed her with a skeptical frown, then thankfully moved on to scrutinize another woman before he escorted them back inside for a prescribed nap. Bethany knew she should sleep now to rest for the night’s escape, but her mind swirled with memories of her encounter with Justus, and thoughts of the future.

He’d looked exactly as he had when she’d last seen him, with his pale chiseled features, faint freckles, and beautiful mane of hair. Though he’d told her that vampires did not age, seeing the evidence was another thing entirely. But she’d certainly aged. What had Justus thought to see her now, no longer a young debutante of seventeen, but a spinster of five and twenty?

How could he even want her now?

Yet tenderness had shone from his eyes beneath the sorrow to see her imprisoned, and his touch on her hands had been affectionate. The sight of the locket she’d given him with the fervent declaration that he’d never taken it off implied devotion. Did he still wish to wed her? Could they even marry with her being an escaped madwoman, and he an exiled vampire?

As the light streaming in from the window dimmed, Bethany stared out into the dusk, waiting with heart-pounding urgency. Footsteps echoed in the corridor, so she quickly darted back to her bed, scrambled under the covers, and feigned sleep.

She heard someone pause in front of her cell, but did not dare move or open her eyes to see whether it was Greeves or the doctor. After countless interminable moments, whoever was watching her walked away. She remained still, eyes squeezed shut moments after the footsteps faded.

Worry crawled up her spine. What if she’d imagined Justus last night? She had been drugged with the awful tonic.

No. She shook her head. The rough fabric of her thin pillow scratched her cheek. She’d been subjected to Keene’s tonic many times over the years, and never imagined something so real, not even under the influence of a large dose, much less the teaspoon she’d been given last night. Still, memories of her endless wait for him that fateful night eight years ago relentlessly haunted her. What if he decided not to come? What if he’d been toying with her all this time?

What if...

“Bethany.” Justus’s whisper flowed over her like a caress.

Her eyes snapped open. “Justus?” She bolted up from the bed and there he was.

Now, on her second time setting eyes upon him, Bethany noticed a few alarming details that hadn’t caught her attention the night before. Firstly, Justus was much paler than she remembered. In fact, he appeared somewhat sickly. Secondly, his clothes were ragged and patched, the complete antithesis of his former elegant garb. The chain of the locket he wore was tarnished.

She remembered his talk last night of being constantly on the run, being hunted by other vampires with no place to call home. Her heart clenched with sympathy. He’d suffered as much as she had. The difference was that while her suffering would abate when she was freed from the asylum, his situation would remain unchanged. In fact, it may become more complicated, with her in tow. What if she slowed him down?

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