Oaths in Blood: A Gothic Novella Read online

  She craned her head to the side as his hand stroked her neck. His breathing grew ragged, his lips hovering just over her tender flesh.

  Her skin was alive and sensitive like she'd never known it could be. She'd thought these feelings were long gone, fucked out of her by the hundreds of men that hadn't loved or cared enough to touch her gently.

  She took his other hand from where it gripped her shoulder, placing his hand on her breast. She'd once been insecure of how they sagged, how the skin had grown thin and soft, but not now. She wanted to be touched, to be pleased and handled with tenderness, just once more before she died. A deep, guttural sigh came from him as he pressed against her back. He bent his head forward, laying his lips on her neck with a soft kiss.

  The simple contact was enough to make her knees weak. She reached back, her hands gripping his thighs. His other hand went around her waist, pulling her closer, pressing his waist against her buttocks.

  Losing himself, he licked her neck, his tongue moving in small circles, his hand firmly massaging her breast. He slipped it under her dress, to her nipple. She sucked in a hard breath as he rolled it between his fingers. "God," she whispered, feeling herself slipping into a dreamy, blissful oblivion. "Do it. Please."

  He tightened his hold around her. Her fingers dug into his legs. "Yes!"

  His mouth stretched open over her neck.

  Heat flowed through her, churning in her center. She writhed against him, urging him on.

  Twin points grazed her skin, and bolts of electricity surged through her. She had no idea what was happening, but she was beyond caring. All that mattered was the burning desire tearing through her. This greedy, all-consuming need was all that existed for her.

  "Yes! Oh, yes!"

  "No!" he cried, pushing himself away. He turned from her, hiding his face.

  "What? Why?"

  He half turned his head toward her, his face obscured with shadow. "Not yet," he panted, pulling his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry." He stumbled through the doorway and disappeared into the darkness.

  Chapter Five

  LISETTE’S CHEEKS BURNED. She’d thought she’d gathered herself but now standing in front of the carriage, knowing Sebastian was waiting within, the humiliation returned full-force. Her need, the desire and then his back to her; it overwhelmed Lisette.

  “Ma’am,” Willard said, appearing from the darkness. He held out a hand.

  She pulled her shawl tight around herself, ignoring his hand and climbed into the carriage.

  Sebastian looked out the window, his hand clenched into a fist at his mouth. He didn’t acknowledge her.

  Lisette sat on the opposite end, as far from him as she could get. "When does the next train leave?" she asked her throat tight. She looked forward to the solitude of her cabin, to the numbness that liquor promised. She’d practically torn her father’s house apart looking for a bottle of something, anything, but she’d found nothing.

  "We aren't taking a train,” Sebastian answered. “Richard doesn't live far. We'll take the coach and arrive in a few hours."

  "A few hours?” Her humiliation melted away into something else. “That's all?" She was going to see Richard. Her Richard. The thought of seeing him in such a short time made her heart thunder in her chest. She swallowed hard and turned her face to the window.

  His eyes met hers. "Is that a problem?"

  She didn’t know how to answer. There was so much history. So much of her youth was spent dreaming of him coming to her rescue, saving her from all her troubles. She'd spent years wasting away in that fantasy before she finally accepted that it was all it was: a fantasy of her own design. Once she had realized that, her love twisted into bitter hatred.

  But now that he was only a few hours away, that sickly-sweet nauseous feeling she used to get at the very mention of his name crept back into her belly.

  "No," she lied, turning from Sebastian. "I was only surprised, that's all. I suppose it's better to get it done and over with. All of this," she added, turning her hand in the air. "The sooner, the better."

  He forced a heavy breath of air through his nostrils and snapped the curtains of the coach closed. "Dawn will be breaking soon, and we both ought to rest. We'll visit him after night has fallen."

  "Very well," she responded, absently.

  "Goodnight...Lisette."

  "You mean good day."

  "Yes. Good day."

  "Good day, Sebastian."

  Sebastian, it seemed had no trouble sleeping through the day in the tight confines of the carriage. Lisette was not so lucky. She felt trapped in the darkness behind the drawn curtains, nervous and panicky. Every sway and jolt from the rough motion of the carriage made her tense up more, wringing her hands until they were raw. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone so long without having a drink. When she wasn't twisting her fingers and knuckles together, her hands shook uncontrollably. Soon, every part of her was shaking and sweat beaded on her forehead. Again and again, her hand went instinctively to her thigh, where her flask used to be. Even when she knew she wouldn't find it, her fingers kept wandering there for comfort.

  Would she have another chance to have a drink? If they saw Richard that night, if their arrangement came to an end, she supposed she would never have another. A blessing or a curse? Either way, she wanted one now.

  Sebastian slept on the bench opposite her. At least he seemed to be sleeping. His back was straight against the seat, his head rolled back. Not a sound came from him though. Not a moan, snore, or breath. The carriage was far too dim to see if his chest moved at all.

  Who are you? she wondered for the hundredth time since she met him. Where had he come from? Why did he choose her? And how was it, that after only a few weeks together, she felt both utterly terrified, and completely at home with him?

  She tore her eyes away, looking towards the dark curtain. Bright sunlight shone on the opposite side of it. Curling a finger behind, she pulled the curtain away from the window and peeked out. The bright light burned her eyes. She blinked until her eyes adjusted. The landscaped drifted past, not nearly as quickly as from the train. She looked up into the sky. Vultures circled above, probably searching for some rotting carcass they'd gotten wind of. She let go of the curtain, letting it fall back against the window. The carriage was darker than before, her eyes now adjusted to the bright light of day.

  In the darkness, she saw his face. Richard. Her first love. Her only love, really. It had all begun with him. Her life had been blessed. Her future was full of promise. But once she had met him, the only future she had wanted was with him. It was fitting it should end with him as well.

  She turned from the black curtain, from Richard's face. Her eyes were beginning to adjust again to the darkness. She could make out the curve of Sebastian's jaw, the shape of his hat next to him on the bench. She wondered if he ever really slept. He was always so aware of the world, so ready to go into action, she couldn't imagine him ever being unconscious.

  "Sebastian," she whispered.

  No response. Not even a flinch.

  Her fingers flexed, tightening around the black lace gloves she held. The old familiar ache in her knuckles came back, the first time since whatever Sebastian had done to her that day. She supposed that would probably be the last of her returning symptoms of old age. About damn time. If growing old had been a painful, slow deterioration the first time, it was a blazing inferno the second.

  And what of him? Had he ever aged a day in his life? Was Sebastian born twenty-eight years old, a beautiful, terrifying monster? She flexed her fingers again, ignoring the arthritic pain this time and nudged his leg with her foot. He didn’t respond. Clenching her teeth, her leg jerked out from under her skirts. The sharp point of her shoe connected with his shin. Still, no reaction.

  Quietly, she slipped from her seat, never taking her eyes off of Sebastian, and eased herself next to him. Holding her breath, she reached into the inside of his coat and searched the pocket. Nothing. Sh
e checked the other side, which came up just as empty. Dammit. She released her breath, returning to her seat.

  Lisette released her breath. "Willard!" she cried, as loud as she could. Her voice croaked, weak and almost foreign in the dark silence of the carriage. "Stop, Willard!" She pitched forward when the carriage then came to a halt. She caught herself, clutching the edge of the bench. Before her, Sebastian lurched and fell back, never hinting that he was anything other than sleeping. Lisette pulled her lace gloves on and climbed from the carriage, taking little care as she shut the door behind her.

  Willard leaned over the side of the driver's seat. "What is it, ma'am?" He looked around, suddenly paranoid to have stopped in the middle of rolling hills and dark forests.

  Lisette touched her brow. "I'm sorry, Willard. I'm just feeling...terribly dizzy."

  She watched as his jaw worked back and forth, trying to think of something. "We're almost—"

  "Please, Willard. I think I'll faint if we have to go any further. It's so hot inside. There must be a house nearby or a river. Could you get a bit of water for me?"

  He looked unconvinced.

  “Please,” she begged him. “I’m an old woman.”

  He sighed. "All right, all right. Stay here with the carriage. There's a farm not far from here." He hopped down and unlatched one of the horses. He led it away from the carriage before mounting in one swift movement. He was more agile than he seemed.

  Lisette watched him ride down the road, disappearing into a stand of trees. After waiting a few moments more, making sure that he was out of sight, she climbed the side of the carriage, to the driver's seat. All their luggage, their bags, and boxes were stacked on top, held down with rope. She found Sebastian's suitcase, the largest one, at the bottom. Removing it was impossible, but just enough of the edge was revealed so that she could work it open. The carriage shifted under her weight as she shoved her arm further into the bag until she touched the corner of what felt like a book. Digging her hand under it, she found it wasn’t the only one. There were several books stacked together. Slowly, but surely, she tugged them one by one out of the suitcase. Sweating from the strain, she fell back onto the seat, the books in her lap. Four in total.

  Catching her breath, she shuffled through the books until she found the book and set the others aside. This was it. The one she’d wondered about countless times was in front of her. Her fingers travelled over the embossed crest in the center. Her heart pounded furiously as she opened it, the leather binding and crisp pages cracking. She opened to the last entry of the book, written just two days ago.

  It’s so close. We’re so close. She’s ready, poor thing. She will be begging for release before long. Respite from this painful existence. And I will give it to her. I shall set her free. And she will be mine. In death.

  Her blood ran cold. In death.

  She went back, flipping page after page, days and months and even years passing, until something caught her eye. A picture. It was a pencil sketch of her own face, only much younger. The date at the top suggested she was only twenty-five years old. Still relatively young, but her life had already gone to hell at that point. The sadness in her eyes spoke plainly enough.

  She tossed the book aside, picking up the next one and moved backwards through it, passing years and years of Sebastian's writing and drawings. A clipping from a newspaper. Her stomach sank like a stone. A wedding announcement between Richard Wright and Christine Holmes. Tears stung her eyes. She forced herself to go back. Another sketch, also of her. This time, she was sleeping in her bed in her father's house. Her belly was round, the covers tossed off. She clutched a letter in her hand.

  Lisette felt all the air sucked out of her. That letter. It couldn't be. But what else had she had to read during those days? Her father hadn't allowed her anything but the one thing that might destroy her. Richard's rejection. Forgive me, Lissy.

  She skimmed the pages of the books again, moving forward this time. Entry after entry all about Lisette and her life. Her miseries, her heartbreaks, it was all there in black ink, laid out before her. Until she reached one that was dated just a few days before she met Sebastian.

  She sold it. It’s time.

  A picture of her locket was sketched along the margin of the page. Her fingers went to the locket around her neck. Sebastian had been there. He'd been there the whole time. He hadn't just educated himself on her life. No, he'd lived his in tandem, watching her. Waiting.

  Lisette closed the book. She couldn't bear to see anymore. She stuffed all the books roughly back into the suitcase and closed it again. The next time that Sebastian opened the suitcase, he'd know that she'd seen it. There was no way around that. But she didn't care. They would arrive in town long before sunset. Sebastian wouldn't rise before then.

  When he did awaken, she would already be gone.

  "Richard?"

  Richard looked up, pulling his reading glasses from his face. “Rebecca! This is a surprise. I didn’t hear the door.” The sight of her brought a warmth to his heart that nothing could extinguish. How could it not? She looked just like her mother. Her hair, her blue eyes, the round shape of her face. She held the hand of a little boy in short pants and a blue jacket. Her son, Reggie.

  “No, you rarely hear anything when you’re working. Run along, Reggie,” she said, scooting the boy with a pat on the bottom. “Mary will have some cookies for you.” She turned back to Richard. "Your wife is being difficult again. Will you talk to her, please?"

  "Oh, you know how Christine is," he said, leaning back in his chair. “What has she done now?”

  “She keeps sending over dresses!”

  “Dresses?” He raised an eyebrow. “What a devil she is!”

  “It’s not funny. I told her last week that I couldn’t go to the dressmaker with her because we had to buy new clothes for Reggie–he grows out of them so fast–and plus we’re hoping to go to on a trip to the country this summer. And then, she sent over four new dresses, two hats and a whole new wardrobe for Reggie.”

  He chuckled. “Is that so terrible? She just likes spoiling you. And Reggie.”

  “I know but think how it makes my poor husband feel!”

  “Oh, I suppose you’re right.” The truth was the dresses had been his idea, but he hadn’t thought of her overly proud husband, working on nothing but a professor’s salary. "All right, all right. I'll see what I can do."

  "Thank you, Richard. You're the best brother in the world."

  He flinched, as he always did at that word. Brother. "Very well, was there something else?"

  "No, that was all. I suppose I ought to go find that son of mine. He’ll be begging Mary to bake him a sponge cake if I don’t intervene soon." She hurried towards the door.

  "Rebecca?" he called after her.

  She turned quickly, looking so much like the ballerina she'd always wanted to be when she was small. "Yes?" She smiled when he didn't respond right away. "Well, what is it?"

  "I love you. I just hope that you know that."

  "Of course. What has gotten into you?"

  "Nothing at all," he answered, shaking his head. She rolled her eyes before hurrying off to find her son. It was looks like that, the playful eye-roll, that had once belonged to Rebecca’s mother. He used to think of her every time he saw those looks. Eventually, those mannerisms came to belong to Rebecca, becoming a part of her, rather than something she’d inherited. He rarely thought of Lisette anymore. He wondered why he was doing so now.

  What had gotten into him, indeed?

  Chapter Six

  IT WAS A NEW KIND OF torture for Lisette. She was used to suffering, to cruelty and abuse. But sharing this small space with the man who had betrayed her was another kind of hell. The injustice of riding for hours in Sebastian’s carriage, sitting just across from him but incapable of doing anything about it made her weak with rage.

  She had considered running as fast and far as she could, but she’d abandoned that hope quickly. There was no doubt
that he’d find her by the end of the week, if not the night. She stared at him as the carriage rocked and jolted down the road, gripping her fine gloves in her hand. The gloves he’d given her, like so much else.

  She seethed.

  She shook with anger.

  She spat on the floor at his feet.

  But she could do nothing. So she waited.

  As far as Lisette could tell, it only took a few hours to arrive to the village, but since it was still daylight, Willard wasted time driving in circles through the streets. Finally, just as the sun was beginning to go down, they stopped. As soon as she felt Willard's weight stepping off the carriage and heard his footsteps walking away, Lisette sprang from her seat. Sebastian slept still, not moving a muscle as she leapt from the carriage and closed the door behind her.

  Lisette found herself behind an inn, not far from the stables. She ran alongside the building, ducking beneath the windows and out into the street. People stared, of course. No doubt wondering about the old woman running through the streets, glancing behind her. She could hear their talking, their laughing. She didn’t care. All she wanted was to put as much distance between herself and Sebastian as possible before the sun was fully down.

  Once she was far enough away, and certain that no one had followed her, she slowed her pace, allowing herself to catch her breath. She couldn’t waste time, though. She had but an hour before sunset.

  A man pointed her in the direction of Richard’s house. “Dr. Wright? He lives there.” A doctor with his practice right there in his own home. Just as he always wanted, she thought, bitterly.

  Lisette stood outside the door, looking up at the house. Sunset fell slowly, casting a dim glow all around. The only sound other than the humming cicadas was her breath coming quick and heavy. Richard was there. She could feel him.

  So long. All those years.