The Nememiah Chronicles Collection - Books 1-3

7. Rowena-1

True to Ben"s word, Rowena went out of her way to mother me. When she entered the room carrying a tray of food, I recognized her to be the woman who"d knelt by Ben when they"d rescued me in the woods. She was extremely attractive, petite and stylishly dressed in a pale green silk shirt and a dark gray skirt, which skimmed her slender hips. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck and her hazel eyes glowed with flashes of silver as she approached.

“Jerome tells me you need something light, so I thought some chicken soup and then jelly and ice-cream. Is that alright?” Her accent was the one I"d heard when the others were speaking earlier; there was a slight foreign lilt to her voice, which was both lyrical and charming. She graced me with a generous smile as she settled the tray on a hospital-style trolley and rolled it towards me.

I nodded, smiling shyly as Rowena assisted me to sit up in bed. Her eyes were troubled as she assessed how much pain I was enduring, fussing, and adjusting the pillows until I was reasonably comfortable. “I"ll leave you to eat.”

“No, please. I"d like you to stay – if you wouldn"t mind.” It had been a long time since any person had mothered me and Rowena made me feel at ease, despite the knowledge of what she was.

She settled in the chair Ben had vacated, watching as I picked up the spoon and tasted the soup. It was delicious and I commented on it.

She beamed with delight. “I"m so pleased. Cooking doesn"t come naturally to me.”

“Really, it"s great,” I reassured her. I spooned some more soup into my mouth, savoring the rich creamy taste. “You don"t like cooking?”

She settled back in the chair, crossing her legs gracefully. “I"ve never had much opportunity to cook, my family had kitchen staff to do that sort of thing, and of course, food is obsolete now, so I"ve never really had the opportunity to learn.” She glanced up, caught my blank expression, and continued with an ironic smile. “We don"t eat human food.”

I blushed, realizing exactly to what she was alluding. “Of course. I mean, I— Yes. Of course.” I didn"t know what else to say and returned my attention to the soup. After a few more spoonfuls, another thought crossed my mind and I spoke again, curious about the elegant woman sitting beside me. “I hope this isn"t a rude question, but I"m wondering why you said you hadn"t eaten in many years? How can that be? You don"t look any older than I am.”

Rowena glanced across at the window, a tiny smile playing against her lips. “I was born in 1852, Charlotte. If I celebrated human birthdays, I would be one hundred and fifty six.”

My mouth dropped open and I knew I was staring at her, but couldn"t seem to prevent it. The enormity of what she was suggesting was difficult to comprehend. At most, she couldn"t possibly be a day over twenty-five.

“I was made vampire in 1873. Once you are raised as vampire, you no longer age – I was twenty one when I was bitten and I"ve remained physically the same age since then,” Rowena explained calmly.

My knowledge of vampires was rudimentary, but I couldn"t even begin to grasp how someone could remain twenty-one for decades. My head had been throbbing since I woke up, but now it felt closer to exploding as I endeavored to process this glut of new information.

Rowena smoothly steered the conversation towards more trivial subjects while I finished the meal and I enjoyed the pleasant company she offered. She helped settle me back in bed – another round of agony for me, a second round of apologies from her – and collected the tray, before quietly leaving the room.

Staring at the pendant lamp, I tried to absorb the information I"d been inundated with during the past hour. I had a million questions, thousand of thoughts pouring into my mind, until I seriously questioned if my head could explode from the overload. Tapping my fingers anxiously against the plaster cast on my arm, I watched the sparkling facets of the lamp as I thought over everything I"d learned.

couldThere was another soft knock at the door and I turned towards the sound cautiously. Lucas stood in the doorway, his expression solemn. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a black sweater, the sleeves pushed up around his elbows. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” I made an effort to sit up and groaned, giving up the idea as a bad joke.

Lucas reached my side in a second, faster than was possible for a normal man. Alarm was evident in his expression. “Is there anything I can do? Should I get help?”

“No,” I reassured him, shaking my head while I breathed through the pain. “I"m okay.”

“You most certainly are not okay,” he replied gruffly. “If you had died…” He left the sentence unfinished and his dark blue eyes filled with torment. There were bruise-like rings around his eyes and he seemed deeply troubled by the predicament in which I found myself.

I reached out to touch his hand, which he was resting on the metal rail surrounding the bed. I wanted to reassure him that he wasn"t at fault, but he dropped his hand to his side immediately. His aroma drifted over me, making my heart beat unevenly. The thumping in my chest reminded me that when Lucas was nearby, I felt more alive than I had in a very long time and yet, he was capable of killing me. It was quite the conundrum to deal with in my head.

“I know your hands are cold,” I said quietly. “Ben told me why. Please, don"t be afraid to let me touch you.”

For a second he stared at me, before his mouth twisted into an incredulous grin. “You want me – to not be frightened of you?”

meyouI grinned sheepishly. “Ironic, isn"t it?”

“Indeed it is. Extremely ironic. And here I was, thinking you should be frightened of me.” His expression sobered and he lifted his arm, running his fingertips lightly down my cheek, before taking my hand. His skin was cold and yet deeply comforting against my own warm fingers.

“I"m not frightened of you.” I paused, considering my words carefully. I never lied convincingly and a peek at his impassive face had me admitting the truth. “Well, maybe I am. A little. But I understand more after speaking to Ben and Marianne. I have a lot of questions,” I admitted bashfully.

lot“I"m sure you do,” Lucas agreed. “I believe there is nothing I cannot answer; now you know the truth. I couldn"t tell you what I was, it"s information we never divulge to humans. Now that you have discovered for yourself what I am, I will happily answer your questions. Nevertheless,” he warned softly, “keep in mind that I have some questions of my own.” He studied my face, seeing the troubled look in my eyes and hastened to reassure me. “I think we could leave mine for now though, I"m sure yours are far more important after yesterday"s events.” He settled on the chair beside the bed, leaning forward so he could retain his grip on my hand. “Okay, I"m ready. Fire away.”

Given the opportunity to seek answers, I struggled to know where to start. There were so many things I wanted to know, and so many things to understand. It seemed the best place to start was the beginning.

“How did you know my name? Is it something to do with— Marianne?”

He frowned, eyeing me speculatively. “How do you know about Marianne?”

I was positive it would be better to be candid. “I woke earlier, when you were talking. I didn"t open my eyes because I was scared. I heard you say Marianne knew you were going to meet me.”

His expression relaxed and my heart stumbled as I gazed at him. He smiled knowingly and I attempted to drag my eyes away, to concentrate on something other than the brilliant blue of his eyes. The effort was a complete failure. “Marianne has the ability to see some future events. She told me about you some months ago, knew your name was Charlotte and she thought you were someone who would be very important in my existence.” He shook his head ruefully. “Of course, she never mentioned I was going to hit you with my car.”

“Can she predict everybody"s future?”

“No. She can"t read humans, she saw you because you were destined to come into my existence. It"s a useful talent, but certainly not perfect. In Marianne"s case, it is completely haphazard most of the time, there"s neither rhyme nor reason to her visions, sometimes she goes weeks without anything, at other times she gets a number of visions together. What she sees are distorted images, which she interprets to try to comprehend their meaning. So you can"t ever be certain that what Marianne foresees will actually eventuate. And,” he added deliberately, “if people contemplate ending their lives, it makes it difficult to read their future.”

I looked away, uncomfortable with his gentle probing. “I"m not thinking about ending my life right now.”

“But you have,” he pointed out. “I knew what you were doing at the falls, Charlotte. Marianne warned me.”

I lapsed into silence and he didn"t press the subject further, squeezing my hand instead. “I"m sure you have more questions,” he coaxed.

“How can you run so fast? When you brought me to your house, you ran so far and you didn"t even work up a sweat.”

He contemplated my question for just a moment. “You noticed then. Damn and I was trying so hard to keep my movement human.” He smiled again and my heart did a crazy flip-flop in my chest. “We have some special talents, Charlotte. Part of what we are gives us abilities far beyond normal human capabilities. Perhaps it would be better to wait until you recover and I can show you.”

“Tell me and I"ll try to understand.” I didn"t want to wait, was eager to comprehend as much as I could now I"d been introduced to his world.

He sighed heavily and glanced away, a shadow of discontent crossing his face. “I don"t want to frighten you,” he admitted, his voice bleak.

“I think I trust you. Ben told me you won"t hurt me.”

He glanced up and I noticed the shadows around his eyes had darkened considerably. “Ben has great faith in my self-control. Probably far too much,” he responded bitterly.

I shivered, but continued to hold his hand. “Explain it to me. Please.”

Lucas lifted his other hand, enclosing mine between both of his. He gazed at me and I could see how he battled against himself. He seemed to want to tell me the truth, but was clearly anxious about my reaction. I steeled myself, determined to retain my composure.

He started talking, keeping his voice level and calm but there was shame behind his confession. “We are designed to be hunters, everything about us is intended to catch and kill our victims.” I shuddered inwardly, but kept my composure when he continued, choosing his words carefully. “Part of what I am gives me extraordinary abilities, far beyond normal human capability. I can run faster than almost any creature on earth. My sense of smell, eyesight, and hearing – all are significantly heightened and designed to hunt. I have more strength than ten human men, enough power to incapacitate and kill any victim I choose.”