Page 31 of The Rising Dark
There was no obvious connection between the two events, but they both contributed to a sense of unease building within her.She wanted to be ready for when the other shoe would drop.And though she didn’t know in what way, she was sure that it would, and soon.
Lavinia walked up the central staircase, Michelle following closely behind.
“I won’t fall,” Lavinia said, noticing Michelle’s focused expression.
“Not on my watch, you won’t,” Michelle agreed.
Under Michelle’s vigilant gaze, they made it upstairs safely.
“Do you need any help?”Michelle asked when they reached Lavinia’s room.
Pride rose momentarily, and Lavinia opened her mouth to say she was fine, she could handle it all.She had done so for centuries and would do so forevermore.She had gone into battle more times than she could count, was covered in scars she could no longer recall how she had gained, and had always managed herself.She had always borne her wounds stoically, without any complaint.
But then, there was no judgment in Michelle’s expression.It was a kindness, an offering, and one that didn’t need to be rejected out of pride.Accepting help wasn’t weakness, Lavinia knew that; she accepted the help of her Sisters with grace and thankfulness, never giving it a second thought.That was what it meant to be part of the Sisterhood, after all.
Maybe she could take this help, too.
“Would you mind helping me take off some of this armour?”she said, swallowing the urge to return to the safety of her self-sufficiency.“The straps can get difficult.”Particularly after she’d scratched and bruised her knuckles as she had done tonight.
“Of course,” Michelle said without any hesitation.Lavinia turned the doorknob and let her into her rooms.They were spacious, the windows looking out over the rocky cliffs that surrounded the house.The clean white of the walls glowed brightly under the overhead lights, starkly illuminating the sparse furniture.Lavinia took off her sword and its sheath, and removed the daggers.She laid them out on the desk.She’d clean them later, removing the flecks of dried blood from their surface.Lavinia took the plain wooden desk chair and turned it so she could stretch her legs before her.
She showed Michelle the straps of the various parts of her armour, from the narrow bands holding her bracers tightly around her wrists, to the larger straps that kept her breastplate in place.It was an ingenious system, the various parts overlapping so the straps were rarely, if ever, exposed.Together, they unravelled the armour, removing it piece by piece, peeling the stained reinforced leather from skin and clothing.Michelle laid out the pieces on the desk with reverence.
Lavinia rose, unburdened by the weight of her armour.“Thank you.”There was a depth to the words that she hoped were conveyed.
“No problem at all,” Michelle said.Lavinia—for a second—considered closing the distance and kissing her, resolving that tension between them.But her clothing stuck to her with dirt and blood and tugged at her with every movement.With a sigh, she turned to the bathroom instead.
Chapter Seventeen
Michelle heard the shower turn on in Lavinia’s en-suite bathroom.She was glad to have a moment to catch her breath.The night had passed in weirdly proportioned time.First, they’d had that moment when Lavinia said goodbye, which had left her breathless.Then, there had been the absolute agony of waiting in the quiet house with two wounded vampires, tortured by the thought that perhaps Lavinia would be next to be carried through the door, unconscious.She has tormented herself with thoughts of all the ways in which Lavinia could get hurt, how the other vampires would return, carrying their fallen Sister.It had been a relief when the doctor had arrived, though that was only short-lived, lasting only until he told her how he planned to remove the stake from Proserpina’s chest.That process had been nerve-wrecking in a different way.All of Michelle’s instincts had screamed at her when he’d grasped the slick surface of the wood with a tea towel and removed it from her chest with one swift, squelching movement.
He had assured her that vampires were very resistant to infections and that there was no danger from that source.Still, seeing this procedure done on a dining table, without any sterilised tools or even an IV with a blood infusion to help replace the blood pooling freely into Proserpina’s chest wound, had made Michelle queasy.Vampire medicine was not for the squeamish.
Lavinia had returned safe and sound, though somewhat battered and bruised.For a moment, she almost hadn’t recognised her in the bright light of the foyer.That glint of otherworldliness that flashed forth occasionally had been on full display, her green eyes blazing with a bright, unnatural sheen.Then Michelle’s perception of her adjusted, stretched, and she was Lavinia again, Lavinia her protector, and also just plain Lavinia, who brought her cups of tea and had watched her detective show with her.She understood now, or at least thought she did, how being a warrior was in her nature.Dressed in her armour—even splattered with blood as she had been—she lookedright.
She had also looked terrifying.At the same time, Michelle found herself absolutely captivated by her, attracted to her like a moth to a flame.
There had also been a softness to her as Michelle had helped Lavinia remove her armour.She had held up her arms patiently while Michelle undid the straps that had gotten sticky with blood.It was an intriguing dichotomy, the unyielding warrior and the softness underneath.Michelle felt dazzled by Lavinia, by her complexity, by her apparent otherness and her simultaneously recognisable humanity.
She was glad to have a moment to herself in this oddly sparse room to digest all she had seen and experienced in the last couple of hours.She sank down onto the unrelenting wooden chair at Lavinia’s desk, listening to the familiar pitter-patter of the shower.
She should probably leave, but oddly, she felt protective.Lavinia had come back to her.She would keep her right under her nose, where she could keep an eye on her and make sure she was okay.It was an irrational thought—this was Lavinia’s own home, and Michelle’s presence probably didn’t make much of a difference, but she indulged herself and took in this inner sanctum of Lavinia’s.
There truly wasn’t much to look at.The windows were large, but the night outside obscured any potential view.The curtains were of a pale grey, barely providing any variation to the room.The walls were completely white.The main feature was a simple king-size bed framed in a pale wood that matched the chair and desk.The sheets, neatly made, were also white.A couple of doors, one of which she assumed must hide a closet from view, branched off from the room.Finally, there was a nightstand with a single drawer topped with a minimalist modern lamp.Michelle had seen roadside hotels with more personality.
Yet at the same time, it didn’t surprise her, this empty environment.In a way, it was incrediblyLavinia, to have pared everything down to the absolute essentials.Lavinia was never frivolous, in word or deed, always moving with a purposefulness that awed Michelle, who often felt like she had floundered through life.In a way, she envied it, but sitting on the unforgiving surface of the chair, she also thought there was an element of self-denial here that made her a little sad.
There was no pleasure here, not a single item designed for more than utility.There were signs of life here and there, of course, a pen that hadn’t been returned to its drawer, a half-full glass of water left on the windowsill.But Michelle couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing here, a warmth that she had seen so many times in Lavinia that wasn’t reflected in her space.
The shower had stopped running a little while ago.No further sounds came from the bathroom.Michelle waited for another five minutes, time creeping by slowly, until she decided to get up.She was probably being overbearing, but still she knocked gently on the door.Vampire or not, she wasn’t taking any chances with that head wound.
“Lavinia?Are you alright?”
No answer.
She knocked again with a little more force.“Lavinia?”She wouldn’t have passed out on the floor, would she?She had seemed fine before—a bit bruised and battered perhaps, but steady on her feet regardless.
“Come in,” Lavinia’s voice filtered through the door.
