So Dead, My Love Page 12

  She was breathing hard and she could feel the blood pumping at a mad pace through her heart. Stepping back from the coffin and the candles, she pulled a small package from her jacket pocket. This was one item she had made sure to remember to bring with her. Two razors.

  She unwrapped a tiny razor and held it tightly in one hand. She shook her head furiously to get Tommy’s screams from distracting her. She suddenly felt afraid that he might come barging down the stairs and into the crypt room. She would have to somehow knock him out or silence him.

  Confusion was started to nag at her. What should she do now? Open the coffin? Of course. Would Lara be there waiting for her? She ran her hands over the dark, polished wood. Her stomach twitched, fear and anticipation pounding inside her.

  She pushed hard and the sound of the lid moving away sent echoes through Karnov Mansion. Upstairs, Tommy began to howl like a wolf. Samantha peered down into the coffin, sweat running down her forehead.

  Lara Karnov rested as if in sleep, her mass of auburn hair draped around her shoulders and chest like a fiery mantle. Samantha caught her breath, feeling the hard heartbeats in her ears. She hadn’t believed Tamara, not completely. Not in her brain anyway. Her heart, however, had embraced the truth a long time ago. The existence of Lara Karnov was nothing science could explain. It was beyond comprehension in today’s society. It was nothing Heaven nor its Lord had any part in.

  Lara Karnov looked like a beautiful, vibrant woman—a living woman. This body that lay before Samantha was not a woman that had died two centuries ago! Samantha wanted to reach into the coffin and embrace her. Lara’s eyes were closed. Her hands lay bound in front of her by a blackened rope. What was she supposed to do now?

  Blood! Of course. Samantha felt no remorse, no fear, and very little pain as she placed the razor over her left wrist and cut lightly. The rich, red juices rushed up, flowing quickly down her hand, stray drops splashing her jacket. The blood was beginning to drip onto Lara Karnovs face.

  “She needs to feed off the blood.” Samantha said outloud. She knew that much. Flinging the blood-stained razor to the ground, she pried Lara’s mouth open. The lips were as cold as ice cubes. “C’mon, drink. Drink my blood. Isn’t this what I’m supposed to do?” She held the mouth open and let the now rapidly flowing blood from her other hand drip into Lara’s mouth.

  Her vision began to blur slightly as the blood flowed freely and the smell of it was metallic. Feeling weak but determined, Samantha pulled out a fresh razor and cut the ropes binding Lara Karnov’s wrists and feet.

  “Please, please. Wake up. I’m here!” The desperation in Samantha’s voice was like a command. Then she heard the commotion behind her.

  “No! Don’t touch her. No!”

  Tommy ran wildly at her but stopped when he saw she had opened the coffin. When he screamed, it was bloodcurdling. He put both his hands to his mouth and then began to pound his head violently.

  The world suddenly reeled for Samantha. She couldn’t hold on to the coffin anymore. Her feet almost buckled as she tried to move away. Dark spots filled her vision. What was happening? Why wasn’t Lara alive? What if she had been wrong? Did Lara need more blood? Should she cut her other wrist?

  In the corner, Tommy had started to hit his head against the wall. Blood had formed on a large gash on the side of his head.

  Then she heard something from the coffin. But before she could look, Tommy grabbed her from behind and flung her to the floor.

  There was a rustling of fabric and then Lara was there. Samantha couldn’t hear her heart beating anymore and she couldn’t focus. She was going to lose consciousness. But she could hear Tommy. He was gasping for air and crying.

  “Kill me now. I don’t want to live!”

  There was no one to answer him. “Kill me now, please. I have been your servant. Grant me this last wish!” He was hysterical.

  Was he talking to Lara? That was all Samantha heard from him. She tried to move from the floor, putting out her arms for balance, but was too weak. As she fell back down, she distinctly heard something that sounded like choking or gagging sounds and a slight scuffle, then silence.

  Her own world was fading fast. She could only see gray and the sounds around her were muffled. Suddenly, she felt strong, icy cold arms grab her and pull her up in one swift motion. Lara held her close.

  “If you have loved me this long and this passionately, how can I let you leave me now?” she whispered in Samantha’s ear. Her breath was stale and cold, a sweetly intoxicating sensation.

  Lara lifted her and cradled her gently in her arms. But the room began to spin, and Samantha Barnes’s world went black.

  Chapter 11

  Carmen propped the slender slice of orange snugly between the over medium eggs and piece of wheat toast. The last touch to a light but elegant breakfast in bed she finished preparing for Gillian.

  It was just six-thirty in the morning. It was Sunday, the only day Gillian didn’t work the bookstore. Gillian had been out since early last night and Carmen figured now was as good a time as any to get her started on a new schedule. Getting Gillian back into a sober and healthy state was going to be hard but she had to start somewhere. Besides, Carmen wanted to break the news to her in a pleasant way.

  She would have to move back to her own place. There was no avoiding it. Their relationship was going nowhere. Gillian had grown more and more distant and with the surprising news that she’d been seeing Stephen Kendall, the painful realization had hit Carmen hard.

  Never one to let failed dreams linger and tie her down, Carmen let it slide off her back. It hurt, sure, but so did losing her parents. Life was full of pain. But where it threw disappointment at you, it also opened opportunity.

  She nudged the door to their bedroom open gently and went in. Gillian still lay sleeping, one arm tucked under the pillow. She hadn’t even budged since Carmen left the bed. Carmen put the tray down on the night table and leaned over Gillian to kiss her softly on the cheek, sitting down next to her. Gillian still didn’t respond.

  “Come on Gill, time to rise and shine.”

  She opened up the drapes just enough to let a sliver of sunshine

  touch Gillian. Gillian mumbled something incoherent, turned over and put the pillow over her head. Carmen took the breakfast tray and set it on the bed next to her.

  “I thought you might like a light breakfast. You need to flush that alcohol out of your system.”

  At this, Gillian flung the pillow from her face.

  “The hell I will!”

  “Please don’t start this early in the morning.”

  “What I need is a drink.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I need a drink.” Gillian emphasized her words.

  Carmen shook her head. It was getting harder every day. “We need to talk.”

  Gillian had discovered the breakfast tray beside her and running a

  hand through her hair and the other over her eyes, she sat up, eager for the eggs and toast. “You talk, Carmen. I’m hungry.” She settled the tray over her lap and took a bite out of the toast. “You’re such a sweetheart.”

  “You need to get help, Gillian. I can get you to Portland. They have AA groups there.”

  Gillian threw the toast back down on the plate. She was shaking her head.

  “That’s rather presumptuous of you.” Her eyes flashed. “You have no right. You don’t own me.”

  “I care about you.” Carmen’s voice was low, controlled.

  “Well, you have a strange way of showing it.”

  “I had to get you at Charlie’s again.” Carmen looked away, the pain starting to gather up inside.

  “I just can’t keep anything from you, huh?”

  “Believe me, Gillian, it wasn’t something I wanted to do. He called. You were so smashed I had to help you out.”

  Gillian was silent, her eyes downcast. She picked up the fork and started piling the eggs into a little heap. Carmen felt so helpless. She had neve
r seen Gillian look so lost, so out of control since the coke days.

  She wanted desperately to hold Gillian, tell her all could be okay if she faced up to her drinking problem. Instead, she tried to talk to her softly.

  “Gill, I’m thinking I should move back to my place.”

  Gillian stopped playing with the eggs. Seconds passed before either one of them spoke.

  “That might be best.” Gillian finally said, looking straight at Carmen. It was a defensive statement.

  “It’s only because I need to get myself back into my business affairs,” Carmen paused, feeling the emotions intensify in the air, “Besides, you haven’t really…”

  “No, you’re right, Carmen. I haven’t exactly been the woman you dreamed of being with, have I?”

  “Listen, Gill, there are responsibilities, obligations I have to get done. I can’t just forget those and stay her watching over you while you destroy yourself.”

  Without warning, Gillian flung the tray aside, jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  “Go on. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She was waving her hands behind her, not looking back at Carmen. She slammed the bathroom door shut.

  Carmen shook her head, knowing Gillian wouldn’t be all right, not unless she got help. There was nothing she could do except be there for Gillian. Loving someone didn’t mean forsaking her just because she didn’t turn out to be who you expected her to be. She couldn’t live with Gillian but she would be there for her if Gillian decided she wanted to clean herself up and give the relationship another try.

  Carmen was done packing her belongings in the suitcase and Gillian still hadn’t come out of the bathroom. Not wanting to leave like this, Carmen decided to go downstairs and wait.

  She cleaned up the kitchen and decided to catch the morning news on television. She picked her favorite chair, adjusted the volume and was shocked at the picture fading in.

  It was the local segment news that directly concerned only Bayton Isle. They didn’t have a television station on the Isle, but an auxiliary television outfit that operated out of a spare area in the WXZT 98.7 radio station building, with cast-off, ancient video equipment. During network broadcast from the mainland, they would cut in with local activity. The same anchor had been greeting residents of Bayton Isle for over twenty years.

  The picture on the screen riveted Carmen’s attention. Mike Cotterman was well into his story. It was Karnov Mansion. The camera was panning over its burned out foundations. It had been an intense fire, Cotterman continued. Investigators confirmed that the body of Tommy Mills was found in the charred remains of the mansion, apparently the victim of his own suicide. He had slit his throat.

  Fire Department authorities were still unsure how the fire started that gutted the old Karnov Mansion. Cotterman mentioned Tamara Weissman’s death weeks ago. Immediately, Carmen thought of Samantha and her fascination with the Karnovs.

  She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Gillian watching her. Her hair was still damp, the white chenille robe wrapped tight around her slim waist.

  “I thought you’d be gone by now.” Gillian turned and proceeded into the kitchen.

  Carmen heard cabinet doors open and shut.

  “Tell me you’re not looking for alcohol?”

  Carmen came to stand just on the other side of the kitchen island. Gillian was looking into each cabinet. She ignored Carmen. “I got rid of all the vodka if that’s what you’re looking for.” “Fuck you, Carmen! You had no right to do that!” Gillian almost spat it out.

  There was no way Carmen was going to win this one. She needed to exit smoothly. These nasty scenes made her nauseated as if giant worm was turning in her stomach.

  “Okay, maybe I was wrong. Only you can make the decision to quit the alcohol. I was just trying to help.”

  “Get out, Carmen. It’s over.” There was an ugly look on Gillian’s face. “You were an indulgence that went too far. It could never work out with us.” Her voice was cold, cruel.

  Carmen took her bag and walked quietly towards the door. Damn it. Why was this never easy? She knew if Gillian called her just once, she would be back. But Gillian would probably be calling Stephen Kendall now. It hurt more than she thought it would.

  Without looking back, she reached for the door. In her heart, she wanted to tell Gillian “If you need me, call.” Her cynical half was echoing “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Carmen opened the door and walked out.

  ***

  Samantha never realized how noisy the earth was. She woke first to sound. The waves crashing below on the seashore sounded like a faint lullaby. The birds chirping, the leaves floating to the ground, all served up a symphony for her ears. An insistent woodpecker was the lone drummer for the band, pounding away at a different beat.

  Her eyes were not so quick to respond. When she finally opened them, blinking once, twice, she was startled to find herself in her own room and bed, blinds drawn, with just hints of sunshine braving the dark.

  Samantha tried to get up but fell back, too weak to try again. Propping herself up on one elbow, she noticed the bandage on her wrist. And then the pain reminded her. All the images came flooding in. Karnov Mansion. Tommy. Lara. Pain. And the blood. She didn’t know which was worse, the throbbing in her head or her wrist.

  She was alone in her room. Where was Lara? Had Lara really been there? Her heart was beating faster and she leaned back down flat on the bed. Could she even trust her memory? Struggling with her thoughts, she knew that the memories intruding into her brain were all real; very real. But then how did she get back home and why wasn’t Lara here? Fear made itself known to her. She had to get up.

  It was difficult, but she made her way out of the bed. Surprised, she realized her clothes had been changed. She wore her green oversized shirt, and her mysterious caretaker had given her fresh underwear.

  Samantha walked carefully out into the hall. There was not a sound in the house. Could Lara be downstairs? She checked the two bedrooms upstairs. Empty. She decided to take each step with care, hugging the wall all the way down.

  The entire house was dark. Were all the shades drawn? How long had she been out? She felt dazed, and bile was pushing up in her throat. Reaching the foot of the stairs, she stopped for a moment, waiting for the room to stop spinning and her stomach to settle.

  Then there was movement, in the living room to her left. She swallowed quickly and pushed herself off the wall. Her eyes focused on the figure standing before the bay windows, back to her.

  It was Lara! Samantha was sure her heart stopped. There was a rush in her ears and the heat made her cheeks burn. Was Lara staring at the portrait of herself on the easel or the view outside?

  Through the bay windows, beyond Lara, the scene was breathtaking. Samantha could see why it was so dark in the house. Dusk was painting the sky into a watercolor; dry sweeping brushstrokes of gray, blue and orange. But it looked cold.

  “Lara?” Samantha could barely get the word out. Lara Karnov turned swiftly to meet Samantha’s voice. Her dress was a deep blue brocade, almost indigo. It hung so very elegantly from slender, narrow but proud shoulders, outlining perfectly shaped breasts.

  Lara Karnov was beautiful in a haunting way. She stood before Samantha like a Pre-Raphaelite dream come to life. Her skin was pale, her hair like fire, and her large, deep-set eyes black as coal. They sparkled in amused expectation as they set on Samantha, her mouth fixed in an inviting smile.

  Samantha didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She felt numb. Lara held out her arms and Samantha walked awkwardly toward her like a moth to the flame. She came to stand before Lara, mouth open, unable to speak.

  Samantha’s thoughts were confused, all jumbled up. She wanted to fling herself into Lara’s arms. There was a strange smell in the room. She couldn’t recognize what it might be. Dampness. The smell of old things.

  And then Lara took Samantha’s left arm and ran her slender hand down to Samantha’s banda
ged wrist. Samantha shivered.

  “You must undress me and then find suitable clothes for me. Come,” her hand reached out to Samantha, “Show me your ways.”

  She had a smooth, sexy European accent. Her touch was like fire and ice, cold but yet so hot. It sent fiery shivers through Samantha’s body.

  Lara’s hands guided Samantha gently, yet Samantha quivered like a wounded bird. Weak and intoxicated with desire, she began to undo the buttons on Lara’s dress. As she slipped the dress from Lara’s shoulders, Lara gripped her bandaged wrist and began kissing it, ever so softly. Samantha felt a tightening between her legs.

  “I wrapped your wrist with the strange fabric you had in your medicinal room. I hope I did well. I am not acquainted with the things and ways of your world.” Her black eyes bore into Samantha.

  “Am I pleasing to you, my darling?”

  Lara’s words were a whisper. Exciting and inviting. “Touch me, Samantha, if you wish. I am yours and you are mine now. We belong forever to each other.”

  Samantha wanted very much to touch every part of her body. She couldn’t control the shiver of desire that trembled through her, but suddenly, dark spots gathered before her eyes and she thought her knees would buckle. She stumbled backwards. She was weak, but was it the loss of blood or the heady realization that she had succeeded in bringing back the woman she’d fallen in love with. The woman she wanted more than anything. More than life. A dead woman.

  Lara reached for her before she could fall. Samantha landed in surprisingly strong arms as Lara held her tight.

  “You are still weak, my love, from the loss of blood. Your blood that you gave so freely to me. You must rest.” Lara stroked her hair and face. Her hands were so cold, they sent shivers through Samantha even through her shirt.

  Samantha shook her head in protest. “No, Lara. I have so many questions.” Her final words were almost a whisper. She lacked the energy to form them. She felt like a balloon that was slowly losing all the helium.