shadows and stones - an original fiction series of gothic, horror, dark fantasy

Beneath me, the stones grow warm. Have I bled my soul into them, or is it real blood from my fall? No, they aren’t wet, just warm. Warm and soft and comforting. A wind blows unexpectedly, bringing more warmth. How strange – I thought the window was boarded over. The wind tries to comfort me, I feel it soft against my hair, blowing with rhythmic strokes. I don’t deserve the kindness. I shake harder with despair.

“Teulu’r nefoedd mewn tawelwch,
Ar hyd y nos.”

The walls have started to sing? How beautiful. I match my sobs to the walls’ rhythm, so I won’t disturb their song. But walls don’t have voices, do they? Maybe it’s really the wind singing. Yes, it must be the wind, for the way it brushes my hair keeps perfect time with the tune. I love the wind as it shares its music with me. I let the sound swirl into my soul and loosen the tightness there.

“O mor siriol gwen a seren,
Ar hyd y nos.”

Softly, the beautiful song ends, but the voice of the wind doesn’t grow silent, it calls to me now. I wish it would sing more, I don’t want to hear my name.

“Eva, please come back…”

Silly wind, I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m never going anywhere ever again. This tower is where I plan to stay until I die. I will one day, because the stones won’t stand forever, and when they collapse in the fall of time they’ll bury me. Then I’ll never hurt anyone ever again.

“Eva…,” the wind calls again, “Eva, I need you…”

Nobody needs me. Mama and Daddy are dead. I drove Rath and Hannah away with my selfishness. Melanie always knew I was evil, and Ursula will share her opinion now. As for Iain – I killed him by giving him hope. I killed his soul. A new round of despair convulses me, but the wind sings again while the warm stones move to hold me closer.

“…mais accorde-nous de vivre,
à jamais purs auprès des saints.”

Is there an earthquake? No, earthquakes are not gentle, like the warm embrace of the stones which move me. Back and forth, back and forth. I lie in a cradle of stones, rocked by a sweet, blowing wind. A raindrop falls onto my cheek, where it mingles with my tears. How fitting that it should rain, even the skies weep with me. They understand why I lay here.

In a corner of my mind, in a place I have not visited in a very long time, a familiar woman’s voice calls to me, “Mais non, ma lapin. You are in the tower, and it cannot rain inside a tower. You should wake up, ma cheré. You should wake up, and see the truth.” But I am awake, aren’t I?

Experimentally, I open one eye. It’s hard, dust from the stones mixed with my tears has formed a crust in my eyelashes, but finally the eye opens. I’m facing up, but I don’t see the tower roof. Raindrops are still falling onto my face, but they are really tears. It’s Rath I see above me. Rath is holding me, cradling me in his arms as he sits on the floor of the tower, and he is crying. I’ve made Rath cry.

“The wind stopped singing.” I croak through my swollen throat.

“There is no wind, Eva, only me,” Rath answers, his voice quavers strangely.

“Sing more,” I beg, closing my eye once again. After Mama died Rath sang to me, but I’d forgotten. What a beautiful voice he has. In Welsh, in Latin, in languages I don’t recognize, he sings to me. I burrow into his arms, allowing the songs to soak into my soul.

I have no idea how long he continues singing, before finally falling silent. It doesn’t matter, a weight has been lifted from me, though the guilt is still as deep as before. Eventually I move, pulling a little away so I can see his face. It is still damp with tears.

“I’m sorry, Rath, I’m so sorry.”

He says nothing at first, just looks at me with an expression of relief mingled with concern. With the cuff of his sweater sleeve, Rath wipes the dirt and tears away from my eyes. Only when he is finished does he finally speak to me.

“Eva, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“You must know, Rath, you’re here.”

Shaking his head, he answers, “No Eva, I don’t. Despite what you may believe, I cannot read your mind, and I only feel your emotions when they are terribly strong.” His hand, the gentle wind of my delusion, pushes a stray hair away from my eyes. “I felt you all the way in London. It was as if someone took a knife and stabbed all the way into my soul. I flew through rain to get back here, but I don’t know why you are hurting.”

“Through rain?” He could have been killed. “Oh, God, I’ll end up killing you, too.” Once more I bury myself in his arms and cry.

“I wasn’t hurt, Eva, and I’m here. Don’t cry anymore. Please, tell me what’s done this to you.”

So I do. Starting with my decision, on the anniversary of Mama’s death, I tell him the entire story of my search for Iain’s ashes, my failure to find them, and finally my encounter with the vampires and Romany.

“I never had sex with that woman!” It’s the only time Rath interrupts me, but I’m glad. I didn’t want to believe he had such bad taste.

“I didn’t think so,” I respond, then I finish the story; I tell him about Simon’s head.

“You gave it to her?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so shocked.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly, Rath. I convinced myself you had his ashes, or you’d destroyed the body. I didn’t let myself realize that any method she gave me to bring Iain back would bring Simon back, too.” I can’t bear the look of betrayal in his eyes, so I shift my eyes to the floor. “When I finally realized the truth, it was too late. The vampires outnumbered me, and there was no form I could take that would let me escape along with his head.”

“I don’t have his body,” his voice is low with surprise.

“What?” Shocked, I look at him. The betrayal has been replaced by sorrow. “I never had his body, Eva, the vampires did. That’s why they wanted his head so badly, that’s why I could use it to control them.”

“They’ll make him whole?” Rath nods in answer to my question. “He’ll come after us for revenge?”

“Probably.”

“Can you stop him?”

“Eventually, I suppose. He is, after all, only a vampire.” I can tell Rath is making light of the situation for my sake. My blunder has been a major one, whether the vampires had Simon’s body or not.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can think to say, though I know it isn’t enough.

“What’s done is done, Eva. We’ll deal with the results later.” With a sigh, Rath leans back against the wall. Still in his arms, I lean with him. “Why didn’t you come to me in the beginning, Eva? Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“You hate vampires.”

“So? Did I stop you when you started talking to the boy? Did I stop you when you moved him into his own box, and later into your room?”

“No.”

“I promised not to interfere in your life, Eva and I have stood by my word. I may not agree with your choices, but they have always been yours to make – right or wrong. I will do anything I can to help you in them. I have always been here for you.”

“I’m sorry, Rath.” I’ve misjudged him so badly, hurt and betrayed him, yet he still holds me and gives me comfort. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Now you are being foolish, Eva, though over these past months I have often wondered exactly what I did wrong to have earned you as my penance.” I manage to laugh a little, and am rewarded by his smile. “There, I knew you were in there somewhere.”

“What now, Rath?”

“Now, little one, we start cleaning up your mess.”

Though he must be stiff as the stones beneath us, Rath manages to raise himself to his feet without letting me go. I feel the swoosh of a breeze as an enormous pair of wings shape themselves from Rath’s back. Like his hair and his eyes, they are black, yet I have never seen a more angelic figure, even in my dreams. With powerful down strokes, he carries us up to the entryway. Only when we have reached his office, does he let me down onto my feet. The wings recede.

I step carefully, unsure if my legs are ok, but by some miracle neither was damaged by the fall. I’m now conscious, however, of a throbbing pain in my left arm. Rath takes my right hand, leading me out of his office. Darkness is visible outside the windows. Is it the night after my trip to the vampires, or later than that? I don’t ask, as we continue up the stairs towards the wing opposite mine. We stop at the entrance to Rath’s room. Opening the door, he leads me in.

Rath doesn’t give me a chance to stand and stare, but as he pulls me through the first room, I catch glimpses of what it holds. It’s like walking through a museum, or a gallery. To one side stands a huge glass cabinet filled with what looks like Egyptian pieces, while another cabinet beside it has objects of Greek or Roman origin. Paintings line the walls. I want to stop and study it all, but Rath drags me forward into a second room.

Instead of the bedroom, which I expect, this is like a miniature version of the library below – filled with shelves of books. An enormous fireplace is opposite the windows, and to it’s right is a carved armoire. It’s to this that Rath leads me, but a painting above the mantel captures my attention.

An ancient Egyptian woman stands in an outdoor setting; her simple white shift flows like water down her body. Beside her is part of a building, but there is something wrong about the architecture. The landscape, too, is subtly wrong; I think there is a volcano in the background. Even more out of place is the shaggy grey wolf which lies at her feet; I don’t think there were any wolves in Egypt. While Rath is rooting through the armoire, I study the woman’s face. She reminds me of Nefertiti, yet I don’t think it is a portrait of the great Queen.

“Eva?”

Guiltily, I turn back to Rath. An oriental lacquered box is in his hands. Sure of my attention, he opens it. A fine greyish powder fills it halfway. Iain’s ashes, I catch his scent in the air. “You did save them,” I whisper.

“All you ever had to do was ask.” Closing the box, Rath again takes my good hand.

“Now, where is the vampire?”

“In the fireplace!” I gasp.

Rath shakes his head, looking at me with disgust. “Remind me to never have you take care of valuable objects,” he says, pulling me out of his rooms. The burnt out match is still lying on the hearth, and Iain still rests in the nest of wood where I left him. Surprise widens his eyes, when he sees Rath approaching with me in tow. Of all the things he may have expected, I’m sure this is not one. Rath gives me the box of ashes, which I can safely hold with one hand, then lifts Iain’s head out of the fireplace.

“Have you come to kill me, then?” Iain asks. There is a slight tremor in his voice. Of course, he can hardly believe Rath will give him a gentle ending.

“It would seem, little vampire, that my sister’s happiness depends on your being alive.”

Iain doesn’t respond. I don’t think he knows what to say. While Rath’s answer makes sense to me, it must seem vague to Iain. Straining, he turns his eyes to look at me, and I smile to reassure him.

Still holding Iain’s head, Rath leads the way out of my room, back down to his office. Books are all over the place, along with shattered pieces of wood from the door and the shelf. Ignoring the mayhem, Rath makes his way to the cellar door. Iain, meanwhile, looks frightened. Clearly he doesn’t understand what is happening, and I haven’t had a chance to enlighten him.

“Give me the box,” Rath orders, and I do so. “Now, you will stay here Eva, and you will trust me.”

“But I want…”

“No.”

I don’t argue, I don’t have any right to. Nodding, I accept Rath’s order, then he closes the door, locking me out. For almost an hour I stand, motionless. Though I strain, I hear no sounds from the cellar, no indication of what is going on. Then, I hear footsteps coming closer and closer, until finally the door is opened.

Rath looks exhausted and pale. The smell of blood is strong on him, particularly around a jagged wound on his left wrist. It didn’t occur me he would make such a sacrifice. All of this for my sake. I open my mouth to speak, but he silences me.

“I removed his head in the first place, Eva, rejoining him was my duty, not yours. Give him 24 hours, no less.” Rath glances at the clock on his desk. “It’s almost 5 am. Ursula will be here in another hour – have her check your arm, then eat a good breakfast. Let her know I am home, but will not be eating until dinner; I need to sleep.”

“You never sleep,” I murmur in wonder.

“Sometimes I do, Eva. Sometimes even I have to.”

In spite of the pain in my broken arm, I hug him fiercely.

“I love you, Rath.” I think I have never said it before. If I did, I know I couldn't have meant the words with all my soul, as I do now.

“I love you too, Eva,” he surprises me by saying, then kisses me on the forehead before leaving me alone.

I will wait here for an hour, for Ursula to arrive, then do as Rath has asked me. If no other good has come of this, I've learned to trust him, as I should have all along. In a thousand years, I would not have believed he'd do for me what he has tonight. Yet, as I look back on all Rath has done in the past year and a half, I realize, I should have always known he would.

Return to part v: mortification
Continue to part vii: benediction

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episode i: journey into darkness - episode ii: tea party - episode iii: awakening
episode iv: the book of grief - episode v: paterfamilias - episode vi: breaking points
episode vii: the dark of the mind - episode viii: decisions
episode ix: momentary distractions - episode x: exorcising demons i
episode xi: porcelain visions - episode xii: the nature of jackals
episode xiii: exorcising demons ii - episode xiv: the invitation
episode xv: body & soul - episode xvi: mothering sunday
episode xvii: imbalance of power - episode xviii: interlude
episode xix: between life and death

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