The Stirrings of a Cold Heart Ch. 14

Aidan had spoken true when she said she couldn't mindlessly feed on humanity. She missed seeing the sun and all of her friends from the Opera. Thankfully, she had found that there were things about this existence that she enjoyed as well. One thing in particular was playing billiards with Erik. Since the night she had heard him play the pianoforte it had become something of a favorite pastime. He had continued teaching her the game and in truth, she rather enjoyed him brushing against her when he helped her aim for a shot. After each game, when he inevitably won, he would always ask her to come to his bed. She always declined. Her mind and her heart simply didn't know how to reconcile themselves with the rules of human society and the customs of vampires.

There had been a time when she had been sure of her feelings for him. That night at Minsden Chapel she had fallen in love with him and if he had coaxed her, she might have yielded. That was when she had thought him human, before she had learned the truth. Now she didn't know what to think or how to feel, or perhaps she did and didn't want to admit it.

Flying to the top of one of London's tallest buildings she sat down and looked up at the stars that sparkled in the clear night. As a child she could remember pretending that the heroes of her childhood games had been a man of his description. Now he was here and she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. If he would just tell her how he felt or even showed her then the decision would be easy, but he never did. Erik Ambrose never spoke of his emotions and very seldom showed them to her. She wanted him to give his heart to her and love her. Perhaps it was a foolish romantic notion, but in an existence that has no attachments or commitments was it so much to ask? Watching the stars overhead she lifted her head and began to sing.

Aidan assumed that no one could hear so high up, but she was wrong. With supernatural power it was carried through the city on the night wind. It floated through alleyways, down streets and past homes and businesses. Most mortals seemed unaware of the music or if they heard it at all they assumed it was just a trick of the wind. To the denizens of the night it was beautiful, hypnotic and sang with such clarity that they could understand each word as well as feel the emotion that followed it. Only one of their own could pull off such a feat, or an angel sent by God. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

The song continued unabated through the city and reached the ears of Alex Mabon as she reached for the knob of the door of the Inn he was staying at. He stood there transfixed and in awe of what he was hearing. The voice spoke of an unnamed lover possessing the secrets of her heart within his eyes. There was comfort in his arms and it seemed as though her soul had always known him. The hunter had no doubt that each note was meant for someone, maybe the moon, maybe to other lost souls both mortal and immortal . . . maybe someone else.

Her words traveled through the night and found Erik's ears as he stood at the docks and watched a crate being unloaded from a ship. The vampire stood there transfixed by the haunting sound. He had been afraid she would never sing again, but now his heart practically leapt at the sound. It didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular, but from the night itself and he knew that she was singing to him.

There was another man, a Luddite, waiting at the docks holding a bag filled with money so he could buy the arms that were contained in the crate from the vampire. He and many other men were dissatisfied with how textile jobs were being taken over by automated equipment and cheaper labor. They had families to feed and were desperate to put an end to it. This was the first step towards changing things. Right now they wanted to be prepared should they have to fight for their jobs. Desperate and seeing the way Erik's attention was diverted he started to become paranoid and a little afraid. The man was oblivious to the music and started to say something only to be quickly hushed by "Le Coeur Noir". He was not about to miss a single note.

Aidan's song ended in a crescendo declaring her belief in miracles and that there was no one in all existence like the unknown lover she was singing to. Satisfied, smiled to herself then flew back to Osrik House. Walking through the door she found herself wondering why life couldn't be more like the stories in some of the books she read? She loved stories where true love prevails and every hero inspires. The library at Osrik House was immense and Aidan had taken to reading before bed. She had just completed a volume of Celtic lore and found the tales of fairies, banshees, seelie courts and unseelie courts fascinating. When she was little her mother used to tell her old Irish stories and a few were in the book.

Knowing that dawn was only a few short hours away, Aidan went to the library and decided to see if there was another volume of folklore like it. At the top of the shelf she spied a large leather bound book of Greek myths and she started up the ladder to get it. It was precariously perched on top of a stack of other books and her fingers could just touch it. As she inched it closer she thought she had it only to have the entire stack fall off the shelf into a pile on the floor. In the process they had inadvertently knocked a large ornate travel desk off a table and spilled its contents. Aidan immediately went down and began to pick up the mess. The ornate tortoise shell and ivory secretary lay on its side with the writing surface open and a couple of drawers on the floor. She was immediately relieved to see that the corks in the ink had stayed in place and none of it had leaked out.

Righting the desk and setting it back on the table; she found the first drawer held only blank paper and some quill pens. As she picked up the second drawer she noticed that it held correspondence from Patrice Claudel and it spoke of herself. Unable to stop, she began reading the different letters and found that they began from when she first was taken in until just a few months ago. They detailed her education, health and expenses. There was even one written when she reached the appropriate age for having suitors that detailed a large dowry for her of 30,000 £. A bank book was also present in the drawer that showed an account that Patrice had been drawing on with notes detailing each expense.

She wondered how he could have known her. Carefully she put the items back in the drawer and put it back in the travel desk. Glancing over her shoulder quickly to be sure he wasn't there she opened more drawers hoping to find more, but there was nothing of consequence till she came to the last drawer. Neatly folded in the last compartment was a small knitted baby blanket. She studied it a moment thinking that it was a rather odd item for a vampire to have stashed in a desk. Looking at its shape and style it seemed somehow familiar, then she realized it was her own. Originally it had been white and intricately knitted, but time and a child's playful hands had left it discolored in areas and a bit frayed at the edges. She had forgotten about the blanket and how she had liked to wear it as a shawl when she played. She was confused, how had he come into possession of it? Slowly a memory began to surface and she remembered the screams of a woman warning her about the vampire. Then she remembered the image of a tall man dressed impeccably in black.

"Erik," she whispered, realizing the truth. She reached into her drawstring purse and took out the old broken pocket watch with the cameo of Persephone and the pomegranate. She could remember it all now.

Her mind took her back to when she was a small child sitting in her mother's rocking chair next to the fireplace. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She missed her mother so much. In her hands she clutched a small hand bag where she kept the few precious things her mother had left her. The first was a small gold wedding band that her father had saved for nearly a year to buy her mother. The second was a lace handkerchief that was tattered around the edges, but was special because her mother had made it for her. The last was a small prayer book. Her mother had only been able to read a little but she loved to read it by the firelight in the evenings. For the first time Aidan felt alone, yet somehow not alone. She had already seen the evidence of a "guardian angel". She had assumed that her mother would be buried in a pauper's grave because there simply was no money. Yet instead she was told that an anonymous benefactor had purchased a grave and small headstone for Mrs. Cathal at Bunhill Fields Cemetery.

The morning of the funeral had been beautiful. There were no clouds in the air and the birds were chirping. The only ones there were Aidan, the minister who had also been paid by the same anonymous benefactor and a couple of regular customers who had also become Mrs. Cathal's friends. Now as she sat in her mother's rocking chair she wondered what was going to happen to her. Would she be required to work off the price of her mother's funeral and resting place? How would she pay off the rest of her mother's debts? Would she be sent to a workhouse or left here to continue her mother's work? It was all too much for a little girl and for the moment all she could do was cry.

Aidan noticed a beautiful carriage stop in front of her house and a woman stepped out of it. She was surprised to see the woman open her front door and step in. She was dressed in a beautiful English frock made of pale blue satin. Her golden hair was perfectly styled into a soft bun on her head with no hair out of place. Aidan's eyes studied her from the top of her plumed hat to her satin slippers. Realizing this probably someone of importance she immediately curtsied.

"If you are looking for Mrs. Cathal who was the laundress here, then I'm afraid to disappoint you. She passed away a short time ago." The very words brought more tears to her eyes. The woman's large blue eyes were kind and she smiled at the child.

"Actually I'm looking for her daughter. Can you tell me where I might find Aidan Cathal?" Aidan was struck by her accent and knew she was definitely not from around London.

"I'm Aidan, Mum. What can I do for you?"

"My name is Patrice Claudel and I was sad to hear that your mother was gone and you were left alone. I've always wanted a daughter. I was hoping you would consider coming home with me as my ward."

"You want me as your ward?" Aidan asked, unsure of what that meant.

"You will live with me and my son just as if you were my own. You will be educated like a proper lady. Above all I would like to teach you to sing which is my specialty. I was an opera singer in Paris. Now I will only take you if you want to go. I am not in the habit of forcing children to live with me who don't wish to."

"Can I take this bag with me?" Aidan asked, afraid that Mrs. Claudel would not allow her to bring anything from such a poor hovel into her fine home.

"Of course you can. I wouldn't have it any other way. Now are you ready?"

Her life had completely changed that day. Over the years Aidan had wondered how Patrice had found her, but all she was told was that she had a benefactor who wanted to be sure she was cared for properly. When she had grown she had begged to know who this benefactor was, but the answer was always "It is better for you not to know".

She couldn't understand why Erik Ambrose had gone to such lengths so see that a poor little girl that he didn't even know was cared for. She wanted so much to hate him for making her a vampire, but she could find no malice in his motives. He had been her benefactor as a child and now he was her friend, protector and master. God help her . . . she loved him.

Strengthened and refreshed by his prey's blood, Erik returned to Osrik House. He never cared about the reasons for a conflict or even which side was righteous. He did care about receiving the agreed upon payment. If you didn't have the money then you were free to go your way, but you would not receive the goods. Try to argue or fight with 'Le Coeur Noir' over cost or quality (the Luddite's mistake) and the vampire would end it swiftly.

Walking through the door of the Manor, Erik's heart was still on fire from the music he had heard. He removed his coat, vest and was untying the top of his shirt when he realized that Aidan was not playing the piano as she always did. He could sense her presence so he knew she was there. Walking into the library he found her sitting on the floor before the travel desk, her childhood blanket was in her hands and he was instantly taken aback.

"Some books fell knocking your desk off the table," Aidan began. Erik could feel a thousand feelings swirling through her and just as many questions. "When I was a child, you found me where the alley emptied onto the street. You walked me home. I remember it now," she said softly. He didn't respond, unsure of what to say. "It was you who paid all of my mother's debts and burial expenses." She waited, but still he said nothing. "You sent Patrice Claudel to raise me." She lifted her head and looked at him. "Why?" she asked.

"A full grown woman ran screaming from me. You saw her terror and heard her warning and yet you weren't afraid of me. You were such a tiny girl, lonely and with too much to bear on your little shoulders. Yet, in spite of everything you managed to find a measure of happiness playing in the alley behind your home and for a moment you included me. It was a measure of happiness I had not experienced in centuries. Knowing what I was and what I had done, you still treated me as though I was truly your knight, You made me feel like I was an ordinary man. For that simple gesture I wanted to make sure you had the life you deserved." At his answer she nodded. He was not blocking his emotions from her right now and she could feel just how precious a memory this had been for him.

"There is something that I have to know," she said looking up at him. "Was part of your plan to make me into a companion for yourself?"

"No," he answered without even the slightest hesitation. "I left an account for Patrice with a sizable dowry for you so that when the time came, you could marry whomever you choose without limitations. This existence was something that I never intended."

Once again she nodded then closed her eyes and mentally blocked him from her thoughts and feelings. She folded the blanket and placed it back in the drawer then returned it to the desk where it belonged. Standing up, she started to leave the room, but he caught her arm and stopped her. Putting up barriers was an excellent way to keep sane when your thoughts and emotions are joined, but right now Erik needed to know just where things were between them.

"Tell me what you are feeling," he said, his grey eyes watching her intently.

"I don't know," she answered, then quietly went upstairs.

Perhaps space was the best answer, or at least that was what Erik told himself. He busied himself by picking up the fallen books then putting his travel desk back in its place on the table. After that he went into the billiard room and, taking up a stick, began to play alone. Somehow it wasn't the same if he could not flirt with Aidan. After sinking the final ball in his second game, he tossed the cue stick down onto the felt table with a slight growl. This was utter insanity. She would either get over it or she wouldn't. He was certainly not going to waste another moment wondering.

Knowing that the sun was on the verge of rising above the horizon he went upstairs to his bedroom and was surprised to see the fire lit and Aidan curled up asleep in a chair before it. She had loosened her hair and changed into her lace nightgown and the light from the flames had enhanced her red hair and given her pale skin a warm radiance. He loved the way she looked with her head resting on the leather arm. She seemed so peaceful that he almost hated to wake her up.

"Aidan," he beckoned softly. "You need to wake up and go back to your room." Initially she didn't stir so kneeling down he gently shook her "Aidan," he called again. Her eyes slowly opened and she looked at Erik as he brushed the hair back from her face.

"I must have fallen asleep while I was waiting for you."

"Why were you waiting for me? By this time in the morning you've usually retired to your own room."

"True, but you haven't asked me your nightly question."

Hearing this, Erik's face became cold and he shut off their connection. Obviously she was making fun of him. The only question he ever asked before going to bed was for her to sleep with him. She always told him no so the only reason she could possibly want to hear it now was because she enjoyed turning him down. Well, he would not oblige her. If she wanted him then let her come to him.

"If you came in here just to have me debase myself by asking that same stupid question then you are a fool and not the sort woman I once believed you to be." After saying this he had expected her to storm off to her room and slam the door, but instead she ran her small fingers through his thick dark hair. She softly caressed his cheek then brought his lips to hers. The barriers she had put up between their minds and emotions began to fall and he could feel a hint of desire growing in her wanting his touch. "What kind of game are you trying to play with me?"

"This is not a game." These were words he wanted to hear, but he was afraid to trust them. His hands reached up and cupped her flower-soft face, wanting to believe her. She once again leaned over and kissed him deeply, her tongue slipping just between his lips to brush his. She pulled back and laid her forehead against his. "Tell me what you are feeling."

"I don't know," he answered. His thumb softly brushed her cheek as his grey eyes studied her face. Did she fully comprehend what was about to happen? "You understand that there is no marriage in our world." She nodded. That much she had understood from the first night of her dark existence. "What we have is a ceremony older than time. When I took your blood and gave you mine, that was a kind of ceremony, a rebirth if you will, but you and I have another bond. It is stronger and will last longer than any words. When you were a child I accidentally marked your forehead with my blood forging a link between our minds and emotions. You did the same to me that morning when you burned your hand. We are each other. You are flesh of my flesh and I am yours. It's the reason we can hear each other's thoughts, feel each other's emotions and share our physical pains."

Erik's eyes and expression seemed wild and it both scared and excited Aidan. He had wanted to tell her this so many times, but never knew how to explain what he himself could not understand. What he did know was that if they took this next step, their bond would become even stronger. She needed to make that choice herself, he could not and would not make it for her. There was more he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her the truth about who he was, how dark his soul really was and just how deep his blood lust ran. He desperately wanted to tell her the truth, but the words wouldn't come. If she knew, she would only hate and run from him and that he couldn't bear.

Aidan could feel the fear in him. There was something buried inside of Erik that haunted him and that he couldn't bear to speak of. To do so would be tantamount to tearing himself wide open and leaving himself naked and vulnerable. She had no wish to hurt him like that. Whatever his secret was, it didn't matter to her. She loved the man before her, not for his wealth or the comfort he could give her, but because she knew that he would move mountains for her if he could. He already had when he took her out of poverty. He had even broken his own hard and fast rules of existence. Erik Ambrose had willingly separated himself from the world and all humanity and steadfastly trusted no one. Yet he had chosen to betray himself by daring to care for her. How could she not love him?