Turned

Chapter Seven.

I left the basement a few hours later, leaving Graham to pant and gasp for air as his vision faded in and out from loss of blood. Alfred had let me out of the cell and met me at the top of the stairs, handing me a white handkerchief to wipe my bloody hands with. I took it and did as it was meant for while Julius looked at me from his place, perched on the edge of the dining table. His eyes were filled with envy and jealousy as he watched me, most likely having sensed my lust long before laying eyes on me. I held the handkerchief out to Alfred once I was finished and motioned towards the dining table that was large enough to fit a small armada “Clear the table” I ordered to which he nodded and dipped low into a bow. Julius hopped off the edge of the table as Alfred worked on pushing it up against the far wall, the legs scrapping across the polished wooden flooring. There were two swords hung on the wall beside the basement door which I took down, one being lighter than the other. I tossed the heavier weapon in Julius’ direction and he caught it without paying it much mind “We will begin with your training” I announced as he examined the word, his eyebrows furrowing up in confusion, not having expected me to hand him an edges sword so soon. He unsheathed it, the sound of metal scrapping echoing out into the room as Alfred finished his task “A sword?” Julius questioned as Alfred exited the room, leaving us to our training. I listened for movement in the house and found Fiona curled up beneath the covers of what used to be Xavier’s bed, snoring lightly while Hamish was no where to be found. I assumed that he was out hunting, his new-found appetite needed to be regularly quenched “Your uncle would have wanted you to use a sword” I said, nodding in response to his question. I drew my own sword, tossing the sheath aside and glancing down at the needle like blade that glistened in the light of the chandelier lit with candles above. It was my sword, a weapon that had been gifted to me by an old friend from Romania. Vasil Albu is a healer who had been turned during the Salem Witch Trials when he and his mother had resided in Massachusetts, America. After her prosecution for practicing witchcraft, he had found her life’s research and dedicated his life to the arts, but his life was too short even for him, so he had tracked down a Vampire and asked to be turned to continue practicing witchcraft in Romania “What was he like, my uncle?” the question made my heart race and my body freeze at the thought of Xavier. I felt the corner of my lips turn upward as I inspected the hilt of my blade, it had a ruby incrusted into the back of it with a silver handle, wrapped in black leather. I twisted the blade slightly, catching more of the candle light “When he laughed it was like thunder, his voice was like gravel, when he moved it was like a predator, quick and precise and when he spoke all the wisdom of the world would spill from his lips” I felt like I was describing a fictional character, but it was how I saw him. He was like a giant compared to most people, an ancient warrior and skilled fighter with great power compared to mere slaves. I let my blade slip to my side, holding it close to my leg like a third limb “He loved me as he loved all women, but he never loved one more than he did me” I met Julius’ eyes, mind glazed over as I tried to fight back the pain of no longer having Xavier to dance with in the moonlight, no longer being able to curl up in the armchair by the fire on cold night while he read to me, no longer able to curl up beside him in the red sheets of his bed. The tears rose only for a moment until they were brushed away by the realization that I was about to cry in front of someone. I cleared my throat “That sword was his and now it is yours” I said, nodding towards the sword that he held in his hand. He looked down at it, holding it up slightly as he thought about it being his. I stepped towards him, moving with the speed of lightning and swinging my blade. I managed to cut through the material of his ruffled shirt when he tried to dodge “Always be aware of your opponent” I instructed, swinging my sword and flipping it over in my hands a few times as I stepped back and away from Julius. He picked at the cut in his shirt and frowned when he noticed that I had nicked his arm. It healed quickly but a bit of blood was still left behind. I wanted to change the subject, to not allow myself to think about Xavier “Take your stand” I instructed, motioning towards his feet with the tip of my blade. Julius stepped back and took on a stand with one leg forward and his body turned to the side, making him a smaller target. I could tell that he had some experience with using a sword from the way he gripped the hilt. It was customary for Royals to know their way around a sword, however the way he stood was off, giving me a clear advantage. I moved, side stepping and twisting my way around him to nick his leg with my blade until I came to a stop with my back pressed up against his. He glanced back at me from over his shoulder then placed some much-needed space between the two of us. He tried to swipe his sword down onto me, but I raised mine to meet his in a loud clang of metal, turning and twisting our blades together until we were once again separated, facing each other “Your movements are too stiff” I said, eyes roaming over his straight legs that were meant to be slightly bent like mine and his tightened muscles that were hidden beneath the material of his clothing. I aimed my sword at him and moved, twisting and turning, each step precise like a practiced dance. My sword met his, but as soon as he managed to deflect it he had to work on deflecting another. He was starting to grow tired from constantly having to work on dodging while I could move without struggle. My limbs were loose, my body always moving and my feet gliding across the wooden floor as if it was a part of me, a part I could control. I managed to strike his blade from his hand, the sword cluttering to the ground some few feet away and stuck the tip of my sword in his face, standing with my body facing him in a sideways position “You must let your movements flow like water” I explained, remembering what Xavier had taught me all those years ago. He had said that it was like a stream, constantly aware of the direction it flowed, powerful yet gentle at the same time. He had said that water could carry a tree away in its current all while allowing a small fish to swim upstream, against its powerful streams, it could be solid like a force striking your or liquid that flowed through your fingertips “You control the sword, the sword does not control you” I added, retreating and lowering my sword back to my side. Julius moved to retrieve his weapon as I watched him, contemplating what my words had meant. He was too stiff, too afraid of the thing he held in his hand to be able to fully control it when really it was just an extension of his limb. We continued to practice as the day rolled on outside, a dreary grey, start of winter air filling my lungs every time I would take a breath. I beat Julius a few times, managing to litter his body with scratches while his clothes were filled with holes and slashes. Once we were done, I scooped the sheath of my sword up off the ground and returned it to its place on the wall as Julius panted, bending over with his hand on his knees and breath ragged “You are slow, clumsy and your movements are too messy” I announced as I watched him with my hands on my hips, clothes still fully intact with not a single scratch on me. Julius tossed his sheathed sword towards me and I caught it in my hand with little effort. I placed it on the wall in an X formation along with mine and started towards the staircase, motioning for Julius to follow. His nostrils flared as he tried to catch his breath, hand gripping the railing of the staircase as I lead the way up to the second floor. I headed for the office, opening the doors and rummaging through various maps “We depart for Russia in the morning” I announced to which Julius stiffened. Russia was a dangerous place, Russians being among the most dangerous of people especially Vampiric Russians, however I had a few friends in the Southern regions near the border with Georgia where Mount Elbrus stood tall, looming over the small town that sat at its valley and would be our destination “We will be travelling to Tyrnyauz by train once we reach Belgium via ferry” Tyrnyauz was a town in Southern Russia that was located a few miles North of Mount Elbrus. It was the closest town to the sight of Xavier’s grave which would allow me to visit him before we would depart from there to Georgi. I managed to find a map and spread it out across the desk, motioning for Julius to come see where we would be travelling to “That is at least a month’s journey” he said, eyes scanning the fast amount of land we would be traveling. I nodded, reaching for a pen to circle our destination on the map while bracing myself against the side of the desk. The longer we would travel, the safer it would be for Julius since his enemies would be chasing us down most of the time “It is where your uncle is buried” his eyes widened as he looked down at the map, turning his head so that he was gazing at me. A few days prior I had no idea that I would have ever told anyone other than Boris and Diana of Xavier’s final resting place but there I was, telling his nephew of where he was buried “On the tallest mountain in all of Europe” I continued, my fingertips brushing over the spot on the map where the mountain that used to be a volcano sat. I was dragged back in time by my memory to where I was sailing the mountain dressed in wolf furs and leather with Xavier’s corpse strapped to my back. I was so determined to bury him up beneath the snow, covered in a layer of stones with a sword staked into the ground in front of it “It took me five days to climb it, in the middle of a November snow storm” the winds had been like a knife piercing through your skin, the cold like a biting hound at your feet. There was nothing I would not do for that man, no mountain I would not climb, no desert I would not travel. Xavier had been my saving grace, like an angel he had come to me on that night so long ago and offered me more than just revenge, he offered me a life by his side, a home in England and friends scattered across Europe “Despite not having known you as well as he would have liked, he cared for you like a son” I was sure that there were some memories from when Xavier had visited his brother that Julius remembered but he was young and they were most likely vague. They were bits and pieces of a strange man that would come around every now and then to check in on his little brother. Julius searched my features, his eyes roaming my nose and cheekbones “Why are you telling me this?” he questioned after a moment of pause. I sighed heavily, folding the map shut and tossing it aside on the coffee table in the sitting area. I then faced the young man, his features defined with his uncles nose and eye color “Because I want to take you to meet him” I said, the air becoming silent around us. Xavier was dead, but he was still alive to me, his memories lived on inside of me, he was still a part of me no matter what could separate us. I spoke to him as if he was still there, I still wrapped myself in his clothes and savored his scent when I was alone like I had done hundreds of times before. Julius watched me then nodded slowly, his hand moving to cup mine that sat on the surface of the desk but I pulled it away and turned to leave the office, only pausing for a moment to add “Get some rest, the trip will be long” I did not bother glancing back at him when I spoke, eyes staring straight ahead before I left, disappearing down the hall and into the room where Fiona was passed out on the bed, arm dangling off the side, painkillers lining the nightstand and a tall glass of water placed close to them. She wore one of my night gowns, her leg exposed above the red sheets. I stood there for a few minutes, eyes locked onto the balcony, but my mind was somewhere far away, somewhere in a forest on a cold winter night in December.

It was close to midnight when I awoke, the sound of a chair scrapping across the wooden floor screeching down the hall. I stared up at the ceiling, Fiona lightly snoring beside me and threw the sheets off to get out of bed. I sat up, legs dangling off the side with only a small grey piece of lazy silk material hiding my naked body as I stood and stretched. I followed the sound and stopped dead in front of the office doors. A light was coming from beneath the doors, dancing in the hall at my bare feet as I looked at it, hearing shallow breathing and a steady heartbeat coming from inside. The door was slightly ajar, and I stepped closer to inspect the inside only to find Julius sitting at the aisle with a paintbrush in hand. He continued to paint what his uncle had started, paining the missing part of my face as if it was the same artist doing so. I slowly creaked open the door and stepped inside, clicking it closed behind me. The sound alerted Julius who looked up in my direction as I leaned back against the doors with my hands behind my back. I was not sure what I felt, anger because of him touching what little memory I had of Xavier or joy because his last work would be able to hang in the hall beside the rest “You are angry” he decided for me, but it did not feel right to be mad. I shook my head and gave a small smile, the corners of my lips tugging upward slightly. I eventually decided on a sense of peace and happiness, stepping forward to wrap my arms around his neck, my chest pressing up against his back as I examined the painting “I did not know you could paint” I said while Julius looked back at me from over his shoulder. He lowered his paintbrush and turned to look at his work, allowing me to rest my chin on the top of his head. There was a slight chill in the air that made my skin rise with goosebumps as I stared at the unfinished work of art in silence “I do not particularly like to paint, but I wanted to finish it for him” it was not uncommon for people with a talent to paint not to have the patience to do so, however his motivation was his uncle. I smiled at the thought of how proud Xavier would have been if he had known his nephew could paint. I felt my eyes sting with tears and my throat tighten, but I shoved them away as soon as they surfaced “Your uncle would have been so proud” I unwound my arms from around him and stood upright, placing my hands on his bare shoulders and giving them a firm squeeze. Xavier had known about his nephew centuries before Julius was even born, his foresight showed him of a boy that would one-day need protecting. He saw memories that had not taken place yet of a boy running in a garden, an adolescent kissing a fair haired girl at a ball, a man being with a woman for the first time “There are so many portraits of someone who is still alive yet none of those who are dead” he was referring to the many portraits of me, yet he could most likely not even remember what his uncle looked like apart from the painting that hung in their castle in Elgin. I stepped past the aisle and to the desk that sat near the window, opening the top drawer to reveal a small painted portrait of the man I used to know and love to a certain extent. It was framed by a brown wooden frame that I held in my hand as I moved to join Julius at the aisle. I held the portrait out to him and he took it with a trembling hand “I had to force him to sit still for two hours just to get this done” I explained, remembering how annoyed he had been by having to pose for so long. I would sometimes have to pose for days, taking breaks in between to bathe and feed, but that never seemed to bother him, what bothered him was not doing anything for such a large amount of time. Julius inspected the portrait of an annoyed and impatient scowl “He was not impressed with me” Julius held the portrait out for me to take and I took it, smiling down as I thought of how grateful I was for having had forced him to sit so that a painter could capture him. It was a small piece that meant a lot to me, a piece that I could look at and remember his stubbled jaw, his messy hair, his bored eyes “You sometimes talk to him” it was a statement not a question, one that made my back muscles stiffen. There were many reasons why women spoke to the dead, be it a dead husband or child, but speaking with the dead was a sign of insanity in most countries. I nodded and set the portrait down on the coffee table, taking a seat on the arm of the couch that sat in front of the fireplace “I do, he is always with me” I said, raising my hand to place my palm flat against my chest where my heart was beating beneath the surface “In here” I knew Xavier was dead, but I still spoke to him when I needed help or guidance or felt like he was laughing at me from beyond the grave. Julius nodded, setting his paintbrush down and getting up from his seat to take a stand in front of me. He reached out to take my hand, caressing it then used it to pull me to my feet, pressing my body up against his with his free hand placed firmly on the small of my back “And if it was him in front of you right now” he began, leaning closer so that all I could see were his eyes and nose and parts of his lips. I felt my throat tighten and my lips part as I looked up at him, an image of Xavier flashing before my eyes “What would you say?” in a way he did look like Xavier, with less stubble and shorter cropped hair. His voice was deep like that of his uncles but not as husky. I felt my lips dry and flicked my tongue out to ran across them as my hand gripped his shoulder tightly, the other tightening around his hand “I miss you” the words were out before I could stop them and before I could pull away from Julius, he had me trapped in a passionate kiss. My eyes widened then closed as I wrapped my arms around his neck and forced myself into him. He felt so good, so right, but he was not kissing me to satisfy my lustful needs, he was kissing me because he felt something for me, he was kissing me because of the jealousy that had engulfed him from when I smelt of lust after torturing Graham. I could not let it continue any longer, I could not allow him to kiss me as if he loved me, he did not, he could not. I shoved him in the chest hard, sending him back a few paces. His back hit the wall, rattling it from the force as I ran the back of my hand across my lips “You do not get to kiss me without my consent” I began, looking up at him with a stern face, set in stone. My hand dropped back to my side and I stood up tall, making myself seem larger and my shoulders straighter. Julius stood stark still, his back against the wall and his face set in stone “You do not get to do anything without my consent” it was then that the double doors burst open, a flustered and still half-asleep Fiona stumbling inside with wide eyes. She had heard the loud thud and came to investigate, finding both me and Julius locked in an intense stare “You are a slave to its master, a dog to its owner” I finished up, my eyes boring holes into his skull. Fiona wanted to speak but her words caught in her throat when I turned and headed towards the door. My shoulder brushed hers as I moved passed, stopping only to glance back at Julius with his head hung low “Do not forget that” Fiona rushed to his side like a worried mother, but he shoved her away with the anger of the world in his eyes. She stumbled into the couch as I disappeared down the hall and out the balcony doors at the end of it, needing to cool off, needing to vent my anger and disappointment.