Blue

Part#6

Hours later …

The car fills with the giggles and smells of two children. Through the many nappy

changes and regular bottle-feeds, not a word or offer of help comes from the man.

The last stretch of road is a solid four-hour drive without another stop or settlement

in sight. At least he warns me of this and I prepare as best as I can. The internet is my new

best friend.

Passing through the perimeter gates it is clear just how far from civilization we are.

I’m not sure how to feel about that. While the city was far removed from my upbringing, it

was nice to know life existed beyond the coven estate merely a few miles past the

mainstream borders.

Out here there is no signs next to the road to tell me where I am and no welcome

post by the gate. The countryside is gorgeous, green and vast, but there is nothing other than

wilderness, acres of land, and hours to the nearest human community. It scares me to think

what lives in these woods, other than the usual animals. The fear grips tight into my chest

and threatens to empty my lungs. I take several big breaths to compensate. From the gate,

the drive seems to be longer than the entire trip. It goes on and on over the rough terrain.

Nothing else registers. Once he speaks do I become aware we’ve stopped.

“We’re here, Blue” he uses my name and it sounds difficult on his tongue.

Is that why he doesn’t speak to me? Maybe he doesn’t like my name and avoids using it the same way I

avoid looking at him.

I cannot get out of this truck, with the babies, without help and without looking at

him. My private holiday in my head is over.

The door closest to me opens and two hands reach up.

“Pass them,” he demands but his voice lacks the gruff mood from before.

Maybe it is because he is home too? I still don’t want to give the children to him. Did he buy them too?

Oh my word! What if they are to be raised as coven donors?

My teeth grind audibly in my ears. I can’t do this by myself no matter how I look at

it. Reluctant, I pass the children one at time.

What other explanation is there? Unless of course they’re snacks – I don’t think there are rules against

… I need to stop this! Get out, go after the kids.

I practically fall from the step and stumble with flying arms. Impossible to stop, I

bash hard against the man’s back.

Crap, the dude is a solid wall! Okay, that went well - not.

Lord Rothchildes stops without turning. He clears his throat and inhales hard before

he continues. Scarlet with embarrassment, I wipe my hands over my legs and look around.

The house is stunning from outside. A double story log house in an A-shape with

large front facing windows. I look around for the water I hear and almost lose my breath

when I find it. The river is close. Large rocks jut out; water rushes around the wet stones and

creates a foam which reflects early evening pink and purple colors. I turn in circles to take

everything in, careful this time not to walk into the stone wall again. A dirt road shows the

path back from where we came. All around are large trees with no fences to show borders.

With the sunset in progress, the picture is paint-perfect.

Ahead, the door opens. I get no invite to enter. Imagination draws hopes of warmth,

family, and food. What greets me is overwhelming stuffiness and dust.

Dear gods! When last was anyone here to clean? Has he lived here by himself all this time?

The answer prints on the floor in the shape of big shoes. Some are new and others are

old. I guess cleaning is not his thing.

“The upper floor is for you and them. Have a bath, or whatever you need to do.

There are a few appropriate outfits in several sizes for you to try on. I will make sure to fill a

wardrobe once we’ve sat down to discuss everything,” he instructs.

Walking up the stairs he stops midway.

“Are you hungry?”

My heart skips a beat. If he asks, then he is. And if he is, then I am the food, which is

to be expected, but I’ve not thought about the tap or fixture until now. My hand lifts to my

shoulder and I close my eyes.

“A little, yes. I am sorry Lord Rothchildes, I have no implant and ...”

My self-conscious mocks me.

Tell him you’ve not served direct and is scared senseless of it.

“I can always snack on these; there are two and – no! No, Blue!”

Blood rushes into my ears, fear for the lives of the children squeezes the air from my

lungs. The children start crying. Then they scream louder, which ignites me to leap into

action, “Don’t! They’re babies!” My shouts set the screams off worse, “Don’t kill them, I

have blood, here, have mine!” I gnash at my arm to break the skin.

Bleed damn you! Feed the man!

A big hand snatches at my arm. I fight it off with all my might, deaf and dumb to any

reason. Mindless kicks and scratches miss a target. Thunder rumbles from somewhere above

me. The sound registers as a heavy, shocked voice.

“Gods woman, stop that! Here, take them!” my arms fill up with two earsplitting

bundles “I was joking ... For the life of me!”

The growl comes from half-way down the stairs.

Gods the man is fast!

Relief washes wave after wave over me. I look down on two small mouths, wide

open and gasping with sobs. Two small faces are deep red and almost purple for lack of air.

“Hush, hush, I’ve got you, come now, come now, shh-sh-shh,” I rock them as I climb

the last few stairs. On the landing, I pick a direction and with my foot, kick the nearest door

open. Lord Rotten is gone, so I enter, slam it closed behind me and lean my entire body

against it.

What the hell was I thinking?!