The Stirrings of a Cold Heart Ch. 11

"Crying," Erik muttered as he slid off his shirt for bed. "Still she cries for what is lost." He was about to put his shirt with the rest of the laundry when he noticed a tear in the sleeve. He set it aside with the rest of the mending for Mrs. Aimerey. Removing his breeches and inexpressibles, he tossed them in the laundry and pulled back the blankets of his bed. Aidan's room had gone silent. It had been two weeks since he had made her a vampire and though she listened and learned everything Erik taught her about her new abilities she had hardly spoken except for a polite 'yes sir' or 'no sir'. Her eyes, which were once so bright, were now lightless and empty. Even those moments were less than pleasant since she refused to kill. No matter how he preached that death was nothing to their kind, she wouldn't listen. Instead she took sustenance from multiple victims that she found in hospitals or the streets and left them alive and well.

At Osrik House their relationship fared no better. Erik wanted to hear her laugh or see her radiant smile, but she didn't. She didn't even leave her room. He missed the feel of her small hand in his and her sweet flirtatious looks. He craved the affection that Aidan had given him without his asking for it or even being deserving of it. He told himself each night that she would eventually grow used to this life and once again be the girl she had been. After fourteen days of silence and sadness he had all but resigned himself to the idea that she hated him.

Aidan would hardly be the first to feel that way about him, but it would be the first to actually leave a wound. Right now all he could do was wait. He reminded himself that eventually she would learn to accept it, but how long would it take? Thankfully there was no shortage of time in their world. At the very least he would stay by her side until he was certain she could survive on her own. He hadn't gone through all this trouble just for her to turn to a pile ash because she didn't know when to stay away from the dawn.

Erik crawled into his bed and was on the point of sleep when an ear splitting cry came from Aidan's room. Hurriedly he threw on his breeches and went next door. The door was locked, but using his preternatural strength he turned the handle until it broke and went in. The room was completely dark and at first he could see nothing. He willed the lamps on and found Aidan huddled in the corner cradling her right hand. The flesh of her palm and fingers were red with portions of skin either badly blistered, peeled away or charred, almost, but not quite to the bone.

"You tried to look out the window, didn't you?" He waited for a response, but none came. "Fool. You are lucky it is only your hand." His words were harsh and he knew inside that he should have responded with more gentleness, but that was something that did not come to him naturally. He had been cold and numb to the world for so long that He left the room for a moment and came back with the shirt he had put aside for mending. Carefully he tore it into strips then kneeling beside her he reached for the injured hand.

"Leave me, Mr. Ambrose, I don't want your help," she growled.

"So I see. You've done very well so far." New blood tears welled up in Aidan's eyes and one rolled down her cheek. Erik cursed softly at the sight. "This incessant crying is a waste of time. Your tears cannot change your situation and the sooner you accept it the better your existence will be." Without another word he stood and turned to leave.

"How could I have been so deceived by you?" She asked quietly, causing him to stop in the doorway. "I thought you were gentle, passionate and protective. Now I see the truth. You are cold, callous and cruel. You care nothing about the pain of others!"

Erik stood silently with his back to her. His eyes flamed red for a moment, but he quickly cooled his emotions. He turned and looked at Aidan but no response came for several minutes. He eyed her coldly as his words finally came to him.

"You want me to pity you because you are now a vampire, like me? You have suffered very little. I watched your transition and you endured only a moment of pain before you opened your new vampire eyes. Believe me there are worse things to suffer then the loss of your soul."

"I can only wonder if a man such as you ever had a soul to understand its loss," she snapped.

"Do you imagine I was born this way? My parents were not vampires and I was not suckled on blood as an infant. I was born the last of four sons in Delphi Greece and my mother called me Erebos. As the centuries go by you will find that time will steal many of your precious memories. I can no longer remember how it feels to lay on the beach with the hot sun on my bare skin. I can't recall the taste of olives followed by fish caught that day and cooked in fresh herbs." He closed his eyes searching his mind for the memories, but nothing came. "No matter how I try I cannot recall the sound of my mother's voice. I have learned to live with that loss, but there are other memories that run deeper than any scar could. I can recall little from my wedding day, but I can still see my bride's face.

"That much you told me was true, then," she whispered.

"Yes," he answered. "Athenasia's eyes were soft pale blue and her hair was like silken strands of gold. I painted her image so I would never forget it."

"She's the woman in the portrait I saw in your drawing room that day," Aidan said softly. Erik nodded. "The child . . .?"

"My son, Erastos," he answered. It was several minutes before he could speak. He could still remember well the small plump fingers, soft downy gold hair and sparkling gray eyes.

"What happened to them and to you?" Aidan asked gently.

"Centuries ago I was a successful actor. I was offered to perform in Athens and it was an opportunity I couldn't refuse. It meant we would have to move, but the money was good so we packed all of our possessions and began our journey. When we stopped to rest along the side of the road we were attacked by thieves. I tried to stop them but they beat me until I was unconscious and nearly dead. When I came to it was night and all I found were the remnants of our supplies, a fresh grave and a strange man sitting on a rock above me. I tried to speak but I discovered that I couldn't and that it hurt to try. The man laughed and told me that when he found me I was nearly gone. I started to look for Athanasia, but he stopped me and explained that the woman was dead and that he had buried her. With my hands I indicated my son and was told that he had seen no child." Here Erik paused and recalled the heart breaking whimper, the only cry he could make that night and the horrifying discovery of blood tears as he wept over his wife's grave. "The man called himself Namtar and explained that when he saw the carnage and found I was still alive, he had decided to give me the gift of revenge. He had made me a vampire which had healed all the physical wounds of the attack except one." Carefully he went to one of the oil lamps and illuminated the deep scar across his throat. "You noticed it when I brought you home from Minsden Chapel. You see a vampire can be killed when you sever its head. When they had beaten me they had crushed my larynx and gashed open my throat. It wouldn't completely heal. It was several years before I was able to find my voice again." Aidan rose from the corner where she had been seated and went towards him

"Did you ever find those men or . . . Erastos?" Aidan asked. Erik took her hand and began to wrap the cloth strips around it, firmly but gently.

"I did find the men and exacted a revenge whose description should not be heard by such pretty ears. The viciousness they had shown me and mine was returned to them tenfold. They cried to the Gods and their mothers for mercy swearing that they had done nothing with my boy. It was all lies of course and in the end they went to their graves refusing to tell me what had happened to my son. I searched for him and questioned anyone and everyone, but I never found any trace of him. I can only assume he was killed or sold into slavery."

Hearing this story Aidan's heart ached for the man before her. She couldn't imagine experiencing a loss as devastating as that. Despite his cold stoic facade, it was still a painful wound, deep open and festering, and no amount of time would ever completely heal it. Desiring to comfort him and somehow apologize for her cruel words, she reached out and timidly brushed back a dark lock of hair from in front of his eyes with her burned hand. As she did, a small droplet of her blood touched the skin of his forehead that instantly vanished, completing the bond that had started when she was a child.

For a brief moment Erik had felt a rush of both his own buried emotions and a strange pang of pity mixed with remorse. An echo of the searing, burning pain that had engulfed his lady's hand was now permeating his own. He could clearly hear Aidan say 'so this is why you have shut yourself off from the world. It's not because of what you are, but what the world has done to you. Forgive me', yet her lips never moved. He stepped back, unsure and perhaps even a little afraid of what had just passed between them. She, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware that they had somehow imprinted upon each other, but then why would she. She had experienced so many new abilities, senses and such, that this would not have stood out.

"I am so sorry. . . I had no idea," Aidan said, believing his reaction was because he was still irritated by her foolishness. "I can't imagine . . ."

"Save your pity. It was a long time ago, I've moved on and so has the world," he cut in, forcing himself to push aside the new found link between them and return to the original task at hand. He would consider the matter more fully in the privacy of his own room later.

Carefully he took her hand in his and began to wrap the cloth strips around the burned flesh. More than once she winced and made small noises of discomfort. Erik knew what she was feeling because his hand echoed every pang. Satisfied that it was wrapped properly, he tied the cloth strips into a knot making her wince one final time.

"Mr. Ambrose . . ."

"Your hand will heal when you feed tonight. For now let the pain be a reminder to you." He answered curtly then started towards the door only to stop with his back to her. He had to know with certainty whether they had truly bonded or not. He closed his eyes and silently asked if she could hear him using only his mind.

"Of course," she answered, confused by the question. Erik nodded in acknowledgment then quickly left slamming her bedroom door behind him. He would have to learn to block her thoughts and feelings. Dear God, what had they done?