Monster

9. Unfortunate Ghosts

October 23 1825 

Unfortunate Ghosts

Elsa had tried to discover a way out for hours-her nails were chipped, hands cut and bloody, hair tangled down her back and stuck to her neck where Sven had bitten her. She felt weak and could hardly walk, but her hands kept pushing on the walls; deep into the shadows she wandered, in the far end of the room, her fear of the dark lessening when she reminded herself of Sven. 

At long last the girl had given up; she moved back to where Nicholas lay and sat next to him, her back against the brick wall. She stared up into the darkness, could hear the storm raging outside, and thought about Ronan. 

Maybe he will find me, she thought desperately. He and my father. All of the SKS will come for me and Nicholas. 

She closed her eyes-she had let Sven hypnotize her into staying in his arms. She should have run while she'd had the chance, whether he followed or not, it would have been better than this helplessness she suffered. She felt she were an idiot, and wished desperately for a way out-a way to kill the vampyre... 

A door opened hours later and Elsa looked up, desperate to know where it had come from, but hardly had time to comprehend it, for Sven was there before her, his cutaway coat smeared with scarlet, a line of red down his chin from the corner of his mouth. "I've missed you," he said. 

Elsa felt her stomach squeeze with horror. "Let me go," she said as evenly as she could, and tried to stand. 

He knelt down and put a hand on her shoulder. "I can't," he said, and brushed his lips to her forehead. "Your blood is pure; it is rare." 

Elsa closed her eyes. He was too close, his sharp teeth, like needles, too close to her neck now. "Please," she whispered, and knew it was a lie when she added, "I'll come back to you. I promise." 

His lips touched her neck now, and without futher warning the needles that were his teeth slid into her skin, and immediately the smell of metal and rust filled the air, a hot river cascading down her neck and collarbones. The pain was intense, and Elsa's broken nails dug into her bloody palms as she fought the tears in her eyes. Her heart raced and she could hardly breathe. 

Sven slipped his hands from her shoulders to her waist and pulled her closer; Elsa's body reacted peculiarly-a snake had uncoiled in her stomach at Sven's insistant touch; her fists loosened and rose to his elbows, where she gripped the sleeves of his coat. He pulled away to swallow, and stopped to stare at her. 

"Please," Elsa said, out of breath. "I'll come back." 

"You won't," he said, his lips curled on one side. Was he smirking, or sneering? "You are a liar; I can see in your eyes what a liar you truly are." 

Elsa stared at him, her eyes burning. "I am not lying." But she was. 

Sven shoved her away from him and stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You are. I've been around for over hundred years. I know a liar when I see one. I won't be manipulated." 

Elsa put a hand to her neck; it was warm and hot with her own blood. She choked on the smell of it. "Why haven't you just killed me, then?" 

"Don't you listen, dense girl? Your blood is pure. If I killed you I would receive no more of it, and that would be unfortunate." 

Elsa tried to get to her feet. "I don't think that's the only reason I am here," she said. "I am alive for another reason, one that isn't because of my blood." 

Sven stared at her, amused. "Please, share your assumptions." 

Elsa made it to her hands and knees, and then to a wobbly stand. "The way you stared at my pocket-watch," she said, the watch itself suddenly heavy as he acknowledged it again with both admire and distaste. 

Thunder roared on the other side of the wall, the rose petals continued to fall, and the candles burned as Elsa and Sven watched each other. 

"The way you look at it now---it means something to you, I can see it in your eyes." 

She couldn't help but lean upon the wall for support, for she felt rather faint. Sven took one step and was suddenly over her, one palm braced on the wall at her back as the other took up the watch, his knuckles brushing the skin of her chest; his head was tilted and she could feel his warm breath in her hair. She closed her eyes, afriad. She did not want to be afriad, but Sven was a vampyre, and he was slowly killing her. 

"It may," he said quietly. "Have significance, to me, that is." 

Elsa forced herself not to breathe in too heavily. "It used to belong to my mother," she said in the darkness. 

Nicholas lay asleep not too far away, or maybe he was dead. Elsa hadn't spoken to him since their first encounter. At one point he had gotten up to wander the darkness, for what, she was not sure, but he lay back down, a book under his arm. A dusty one, so worn that the spine had unraveled and the pages were loose like leaves in the fall. Sven stared at it hard, his eyes unreadable. 

He was somewhere far away, Elsa sensed, in another time and place. "It never had," he said quickly, looking away from Elsa. He let her go abruptly and her back hit the wall, hard. He moved away, into the shadows. 

Elsa's brow furrowed. "Yes, it did," she said after him. "My father handed it down to me. He said she was found with it after she-my mother was... she was... killed by one of you!" she shouted, running forward. Her body was weak but just as Sven opened a door she hadn't discovered, no matter how she tried, she slid past him instead of shoving him like she had planned. 

She was in the room she had found herself in before-with the sheets draped over the furniture and the grandfather clock. There was a door to the outside world and she ran toward it, her heart pounding. Sven was there a second later, her wrist in his grip. He slammed it to the wall so hard that the wood of the wall splintered the back of her hand, and she yelled in pain. She kicked out and yelled, "If you plan to keep me here, just kill me! I would rather be dead than allow you to take another sip of my blood, you monster!" 

He let her wrist go. "We are all monsters," he said quietly. "In our own way." But Elsa had not listened; she slammed her palms into his chest with all her weight, and it was enough to slip past him to the door. She grabbed the knob and yanked, but it would not open. She was so horrified by this discovery, she could not seem to breathe. 

"Prepare for a life, here with me," Sven said. "I've had all the locks and windows sealed for this very reason." 

Elsa bellowed, "I won't stay here! I won't spend my life here!" She turned back to the door and shook the doorknob forcefully, her teeth clenched, the veins in her wrists and forehead standing out, purple and blue under her snow-white skin. 

She ran toward the window, and hadn't realized, but Sven watched her carefully, his arms crossed over his slender chest, the explosion of lightening flickering over his copper eyes from the window, where Elsa pushed and clawed, attempting to break it and escape. 

She stepped back, took the table with the book she'd seen, and lifted it-it was rickety and old; frail like a box-she tossed it at the window, only to watch as splinters of wood cascaded down over the white sheets that draped the loveseat-the window lit up again, and Sven was beside her. He had picked the book up and was flicking through the pages; they rustled under his fingers and he started to read just below a whisper. 

The grandfather clocked started to chime. 

One. She stared at the window. Thunder growled, and a few seconds later an earth-ripping bellow of lightening shook the walls and lit up the whole, vast room. 

Two. "What is that you read?" she asked. 

"It is an old diary," he said. 

Three. "Who's diary?" she asked. "Yours?" 

"No, someone whom was quite dear to me." 

Elsa felt faint, and just as the forth chime started to echo around the room, she collapsed, wind howling against the window like ghosts trying to break in and take her home.