Chapter 17
It was dark. She couldn’t move. The last of her strength was ebbing away, leaving her numb and empty, nothing more than a shell. She longed for death, called to it, but still it wouldn’t come. She had endured as much as she could. She had no more fight left in her.
Troy had fallen silent.
The whole world was silent.
Or maybe it was her hearing.
She couldn’t smell anything anymore either.
She couldn’t see.
Couldn’t feel.
Was this death?
It felt cold and not at all comforting as she thought it would be. It filled her with panic that she wouldn’t see Corazon on the other side. There would be nothing but this terrible darkness.
A noise, muffled and indistinct reached her ears. A spark of something inside her made her try to open her eyes but she didn’t have enough strength. It sounded like a commotion. Maybe the man had come to finish the job. She hazily remembered him leaving a short time ago and then she had collapsed.
He hadn’t asked her one question.
It seemed he was intent on killing her.
She only wished he would do it quicker.
This world hurt too much now.
A breeze washed her skin, the noise coming louder now. She drew a shaky breath, forcing air into her lungs and trying to gather the strength for one last stand.
The rough hands she expected didn’t come. Someone carefully picked her up and she couldn’t make any sense of what was happening when her wrists were suddenly free.
She tried to open her eyes and fight, but her body was too weak and instead she slumped against whoever had freed her hands.
Maybe they were going to kill her now.
The person pulled her up, but their touch was gentle and slow. She felt strong arms against her back and wondered if she was delirious and was imagining that Troy had escaped and had come to rescue her. She tried to sniff, wanted to catch the person’s scent, but she didn’t even have the strength for that.
There were voices again but she couldn’t understand a word they said. They swam in her head, colliding and muddling together, echoing there.
The arm tightened against her back, moving her into a sitting position. Her cheek came to rest against something padded and cool. She rolled her eyes open and saw skin. A neck. Blood.
She brought her hand up to loosely grip the clothes the person was wearing and waited for them to shove her away as she tried to pull herself towards their neck. They didn’t. Their arm held her, helping her forwards.
She brushed her lips over their throat.
“Drink, Scarlet.” She heard the words, swimming around her head in his voice.
Corazon?
She glanced up and struggled to focus on the side of their face. Her eyes widened a little when she saw the scar and the nick taken out of his ear. She was delusional or she had died. Was this the afterlife? She still felt so weak and tied to the earth. She felt heavy and empty.
She couldn’t be dead.
“Drink.” The whispered command came again and she mustered the last of her strength, using it to force her teeth to descend. She closed her lips around his throat, no longer caring if this was all a fantasy.
Her fangs slowly punctured his neck and the first rush of blood was too much for her to swallow. She choked on it as she desperately tried to drink it down, her throat refusing to cooperate. As the blood hit her stomach, she found a little more strength, enough to hold onto him tighter.
This was a sweet delusion.
She wished all her ones over the past few days had been like this.
Corazon come to rescue her.
She laughed inside at that thought and continued to drink until the person made her stop. She fell back into his arm, her eyelids too heavy to keep open. The person cradled her and said something close to her ear. She couldn’t make it out.
There was a shuffling noise and another voice.
She sniffed and realised she could smell two vampires now, and human blood. Her stomach turned and growled. She growled.
“Drink,” the second voice said and it sounded a lot like Troy.
Tears filled her eyes as the person moved her into another position. She could smell rich warm blood. Her teeth itched and she lunged at the body in front of her, digging her claws in at the same time as her fangs sank deep into its neck. She drank deep, draining it of whatever blood remained in it. She could feel another’s marks just overlapping where she had bitten. When there was no blood left, she tried to suck harder, desperate for more and for the strength that it was bringing her.
“Enough,” someone said and picked her up, cradling her in their arms. “We must get her out of here.”
She frowned. Where were they going?
Forcing her eyes open, she stared at his face.
Corazon.
Was this really a delusion?
* * * *
Corazon looked down into Scarlet’s eyes. His jaw tensed as he fought to rein in his anger and keep control. Giving himself over to the lust for vengeance inside of him would get him nowhere. He had to stay close to her now and protect her. She had been through enough.
Holding her close, but ensuring that he didn’t aggravate her injuries, he waited for her to settle. Her eyes slipped shut and her cheek came to rest against his chest. He looked at Troy. His lieutenant had fared better than Scarlet, though he had probably been tortured worse. Being older, his healing ability acted faster and he was stronger.
Scarlet needed help in order to make a full physical recovery. Her mind was another matter. He only hoped that this ordeal hadn’t shattered it.
Troy went out first into the midst of the battle. Corazon held Scarlet close to him and switched into his vampire guise, using his senses to detect any danger close by. There were bodies, some dead and some unconscious, surrounding him but he could hear fighting just around the corner. It had been a successful attack. He only wished that he had made it back to the garrison quicker and had been able to assemble his army immediately.
Red tape had caused delays and he’d had to wait for General Violet to make it to the garrison before he could move out. She had needed proof of his existence. Apparently, everyone believed he was dead.
Even Scarlet.
Corazon couldn’t imagine how terrible she must have felt on hearing that he had disappeared. When she was awake and on the mend, he would explain to her exactly what happened to him. Right now, he had to get her to safety.
He moved swiftly, ducking and dodging through the fighting warriors, careful to avoid jolting Scarlet too much. Arrows narrowly missed him and Troy. It had been his lieutenant’s signature that he had sensed during the battle and had made his way towards. His heart had told him it was too much to hope that Scarlet was alive, but he had held onto that hope all the same. When he had freed Troy, he had realised that Scarlet was in the room next door.
He had never seen a vampire so close to dying from torture before.
He only hoped he wasn’t too late.
Clearing the fort, he doubled his pace, running up the hill towards his garrison but careful not to lose Troy. At the top of the hill were a group of his archers. They were protecting the horses. He had brought three of them, foolishly hoping that Scarlet would be in a condition to ride unaided.
He mounted his horse as Troy got on another. One of his archers helped him get Scarlet up onto the saddle and he sat her sideways across his legs. He held her tightly with one arm around her back and waist, and geed on the horse with the other.
The night was fast waning. He signalled the lead archer to sound the retreat. They had what they had come for.
The ride back to the fort was long and he stared at Scarlet’s face for most of it. It was a clear spring night and the moon was shining on her face, broken occasionally by the tall pine trees. He watched the shadows moving across her features and ached to see her so broken and beaten.
He should have come back sooner.
He should have escaped quicker.
He wasn’t without his own injuries from his captivity, but what he had was nothing compared to what she had been through. He reached across and pulled his cape around her, tucking it in where his arm pressed against hers.
A glance at Troy revealed he was watching Scarlet too.
Corazon didn’t say anything. He dropped his gaze back to Scarlet and closed his eyes as he pressed a kiss to the one smooth and unharmed patch of skin on her forehead.
She stirred slightly.
“Shh, Scarlet. Rest easy,” he whispered to her, trying to soothe her and reassure her. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
She murmured something and curled up against him, frowning. He wondered what horrible nightmares haunted her sleep. He had been tortured a few times, but never to this extent.
“Troy?” she uttered and then whimpered when she tried to move.
Corazon held her steady, restraining her so she didn’t hurt herself.
“I’m here, Scarlet,” Troy said, moving his horse closer.
Corazon looked at him again and was surprised to see the concern in Troy’s eyes. Clearly, something had happened while he was away. He had heard rumours at the garrison but he hadn’t believed them then. The idea that Troy had feelings for Scarlet had seemed ridiculous. Looking at him now, he could see it was true.
He covered her more with the cape, hiding her from Troy’s eyes.
He wouldn’t let him have her. Scarlet was his. He had come back from the brink of hell for her.
The garrison loomed in the distance and he urged the horse on, wanting to get Scarlet into it as soon as possible. There was no chance of attack, but every minute wasted was one that might save her. He had to save her.
The gates creaked open and he rode straight to his quarters.
“Medics!” he hollered and the sick bay doors opened. Three of its occupants ran across the courtyard to him.
He handed Scarlet down to them and then dismounted and took Scarlet back from them. He held her close again, as though she was going to disappear, or he would lose her if anyone else tended to her.
“I will take her to my quarters. Bring your things there. Attend to Lieutenant Troy in sick bay.” He turned to Troy and frowned at the weight of concern in his eyes as he stared at Scarlet. “I will make sure she survives this.”
The medics led Troy away. Corazon carried Scarlet into his quarters. He laid her carefully on the bed and knelt beside her. When he was finally alone with her, the tears he had been holding back broke to the surface. They fell onto his cheeks as he brushed the long strands of dark hair from her face and studied her. His Scarlet. His strong little Scarlet, all bloodied and broken. He took hold of her hand and pressed a kiss to it.
“You are strong. Don’t give up now,” he whispered against her skin.
“Corazon?” she croaked and his head shot up and he looked at her. She fluttered her eyes open, a tiny frown creasing her brow.
“It’s me,” he said and cupped her cheek. “You are safe now... just rest and you will be fine in no time. I will not let you die.”
“We’re both dead,” she said and then coughed. He frowned when a trace of blood touched her lips. Hopefully it was just what she had drunk from him and the human and not her own blood.
“We are not dead, Scarlet.” Corazon wrapped her hand in his and brought it to his cheek. He opened her hand and pressed her palm against his face. “See. We are alive. You need to fight so we can be together.”
“Tired.”
“I know. The blood will work its way into your system soon. You will start to heal.”
“Jacob?” she said.
He frowned, wondering who Jacob was. Before he could ask her, she had passed out again and the medics came in. They ushered him away from the bed and he stood at a distance watching with his heart in his mouth as they stripped her and began to clean her up.
It wasn’t exactly the way he had imagined seeing her nude for the first time.
He slumped into his chair and sighed.
“Captain Corazon, sir,” a young male medic said, approaching him. He looked at him. “You’re still not fully recovered. You must rest.”
“I cannot,” he said with a glance at Scarlet. “Not until I know she will live.”
The medic opened his mouth to argue his point, but Corazon growled at him and he backed away, returning to Scarlet.
Corazon leaned against the desk and stared at her face, his eyes unmoving from it. Minutes ticked past, slowly accumulating into hours. The day came and went and still the medics worked on her. She regained consciousness a few times and asked for him, but every time he went to her, she said nothing. She just looked at him with such confusion in her eyes, a sense of uncertainty about her, as though she didn’t trust what she was seeing.
He told her every time that he was still flesh and blood, still alive, and that she had to live too.
He had even managed a smile for her once.
She had tried to smile back but it had taken too much effort and she had passed out again.
A medic came with the nightfall to say that Troy was doing well. Corazon had no doubt that he would recover. He was only worried about Scarlet.
Shortly after that, Corazon had fallen asleep.
When he woke again, it was to see the medics replacing the sheets on his bed and Scarlet dressed in a thin cotton dress.
“Will she?” he said, getting to his feet as the garrison’s head medic stopped at his desk.
The man nodded. “Given time, she will recover. She needs rest and not excitement. Keep her sedated if you need to.”
The man held out a small phial.
He took it and stared at it.
“A few drops of this in some blood and she’ll sleep for almost twelve hours.”
With that, the medical team left. Corazon rubbed his face with his hands, trying to wake himself up. Preening his hair back, he walked over to the bed and sat down beside Scarlet. She was sleeping, her breathing heavy and slow. The medics had covered most of her wounds and with all the dried blood gone, she didn’t look as bad as he had thought she would. The wounds on her face seemed to be superficial scratches and bruising. There were cuts on her throat from a blade and her dress hid the rest. He had seen some of the wounds while the medics had been attending to her. There were a lot of cuts on her arms and legs. All of them looked as though they had been done with a sword.
Taking hold of her hand, he held it in both of his and breathed a deep sigh.
It wasn’t relief, or sadness. He didn’t know what it was. A strange combination of all, he supposed.
He knew what the medic meant when he had said that she needed rest and time. That time wasn’t hours or days. It was weeks. It could be weeks before she was back with him. How long had he been away from her? Months. He cursed himself for not having the strength to escape faster.
Closing his eyes, he lay down beside her, still holding her hand.
He was so tired.
The medic was right. He needed rest too.
They had both been through hell.
* * * *
Corazon paced the small area in front of his quarters. It was a glorious night full of bright stars and meteorites, but he didn’t look at the heavens. His focus was on the ground at his feet. He adjusted his hands where they were clasped behind his back and sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that night.
It had been a week to the day since he had saved Scarlet and she had not regained consciousness. The medics had been by today to check her wounds and had informed him that she was healing well and that they had expected her to sleep for long periods. Apparently, it was common in cases where the mind had been exhausted almost as much as the body. They expected her to wake soon as her body would need more food to keep her alive and healing. He had sent the hunting parties out each night to make sure there was fresh blood for her and the other injured soldiers.
Troy was recovering. He had been to see him in the sick bay. They had talked of Scarlet and not much else. It had been strange having to reassure Troy that he wasn’t angry with him for failing to protect Scarlet. He got the impression that Troy was angry with himself and it wasn’t his forgiveness he needed, it was his own.
The rumours about Troy’s feelings had been confirmed in several reports from the other officers in the garrison. Apparently, after the announcement of his captain’s death, Troy had taken it upon himself to lead the company and had spent an increasing amount of time with Scarlet.
Scarlet had changed too.
He’d had reports from Aradne and Milton about her behaviour towards the other members of the garrison. It pained him to hear how hurt she had been by the idea that he was dead and he couldn’t bring himself to ever reprimand her about her insular behaviour. If he had been in her shoes, duty wouldn’t have meant a thing to him either.
In a way, he was glad that she had stopped talking to Troy at one point too and had shunned his company. It reassured him that her feelings for himself were constant. Troy had told him as much, but he wouldn’t be wholly convinced until he heard it from her.
Something shifted on the edge of his senses and he immediately opened the door to his quarters and went in. His eyes sought her out where she lay in his bed and relief bloomed inside him when he found she was watching him. Her brown irises were dull and glassy, but she looked better than the last time he had seen her awake. She looked more alert.
“Scarlet?” he whispered and came to sit beside her.
His hand immediately caught hers.
“Is it really you?” she whispered with tears in her eyes.
“It is,” he said and was surprised when her other hand captured his and she held them.
“I’m not dreaming or dead?”
He laughed. “No, Scarlet. You are far from death now.”
She did look better now. The bruises and marks on her face had healed. The shallow cuts on her body were gone, as though they had never existed. Only the deeper ones remained. She looked exhausted still. There was such fatigue in her eyes. He stroked her cheek with his free hand and watched her with concern.
“Are you hungry?” he said.
She nodded slightly but tightened her grip on his hand when he went to move.
“Is it really you?” There were tears on her cheeks when he looked back at her and he wiped them away.
He leaned towards her and pressed his lips lightly against hers.
“It’s really me,” he whispered against her mouth.
She sobbed.
He furrowed his eyebrows and held her, his heart breaking to hear the pain that he had caused her. He breathed soothing words into her ear, hoping to calm her again so she didn’t do herself an injury as she cried. Her hand left his and she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, tugging him closer to her. She mumbled words against his neck that he couldn’t quite make out and he wrapped his arms around her and moved her into a sitting position. She curled up against him, fiercely clinging to him, and he ran his hands in soothing patterns against her back.
“Shh, Scarlet. I am here.” He closed his eyes and a tear slid down his cheek. “I’m here.”
She hiccupped on a sob and then sniffed. He sensed the strength leaving her and laid her carefully back down on the bed.
“Rest, Scarlet,” he said and cleared the hair from her face. “I’m here. Nothing bad will happen to you now.”
She took hold of his hand again, bringing it up to his chest and clasping it in both of hers. He realised after a few seconds that she was sleeping again and that there was no chance of him getting his hand back without waking her. He needed to get her blood, but he couldn’t leave her, not while she still held his hand and not after he had told her that he was there with her. If she woke again and he was gone, she would think this was all a dream. He had to stay with her.
She needed him.
He unbuttoned his shirt and removed his boots. It took a long time one handed, but he was enjoying the constant contact with her. When he was done, he moved to lie on the bed beside her and manoeuvred her so she was lying with her head using his arm as a pillow. He shuffled close to her and she sighed in her sleep as she rolled onto her side and her head came to rest against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and yawned.
If she woke again, he would get her blood straight away. In the mean time, he would let her sleep and see if someone came to check on them. He pressed a kiss to her hair, wondering how long it would be before she was more conscious of her environment and him.
When she was back in the world, he would tell her what happened and beg her forgiveness for what he had put her through.
Leave a Comment