Into The Shadows, page 27
There was a great deal to explore, however, and for the mindless diversion she was grateful.
She had found the armory, Dracula's private office, a dark and empty looking ballroom that she had peeked her head into before moving on, the brides' separate bedchambers and their private lounge. There was also a study, a parlor, another lounge, a sitting room, and the rest were all guest bedrooms – rarely, if ever, used from the looks of it. But there were plenty of nooks and crannies that were perfect for keeping out of sight.
Hera's favorite place to hide wasn't a room, but rather a hallway in the more easterly portion of the north tower that was consistently quiet, dark, and virtually abandoned. It was a long corridor lined with large windows that went from floor to ceiling, all draped with a ghostly white material that would billow and dance in the cool draft that made its way through.
Every night, after making her rounds, she'd come up to this passage, opening a window or two for ventilation, and then she'd sit on the cold stone floor, her head resting back against the wall. She'd stare blankly out at the dark, mountainous landscape for hours, occasionally listening to the music on her iPod, careful to make certain that her thoughts were on nothing in particular.
She was rarely ever disturbed in this part of the house, only catching the sound of a servant passing by at the far end of the hall; or she'd feel Dracula trying to locate her through their "bond", but that was about all the contact she received.
Every day passed by and it didn't take much time at all for her to lose track of just how long she had been here, not that it mattered in her mind.
Each new evening found Hera increasingly apathetic, solitary, and melancholic.
She quickly grew accustomed to spending her evenings alone, and truth be told, though she was more of an introvert at heart, by her sixth night she found herself craving some kind of connection with another human – even if it was Dracula, although she was still much too stubborn to initiate any kind of conversation with the man.
Although her anger had all but vanished when it came to the vampire, the woman had it in her to hold a grudge and until he made an effort to be less deplorable in her mind, she was determined to sit in the dark alone. Her plan to get back at him by means of silent treatment had been fairly successful thus far, but it was also taking a toll on her well-being.
Because of the lack of distraction, Hera's homesickness had only gotten worse and the depression that came with the self-imposed solitary confinement had begun to deteriorate her health – both physically and mentally. But if Hera was anything, she was stubborn, which left her to continue on like this for two and a half weeks.
One evening in particular found her seated alone in the hall of windows as she usually was, eyes closed, budded headphones plugged into hear ears, the back of her head resting against the wall as she allowed the cold breeze from the open window and the beautiful instrumental music to caress her senses.
Temporarily distracted by the hypnotic lull of the music, Hera was completely unaware that she was being observed by a figure lingering in the shadows, the liquid blue of the onlookers irises swirling like a melted sapphire and silver inferno, breathtaking, spellbinding… if only she'd look into them.
No, Hera stubbornly refused to look into the eyes of the Count every time they crossed paths. Although her tenacious will was frustrating on its own, Dracula couldn't believe that his little stunt had backfired on him, that he was essentially thwarting his own plans.
That mild irritation aside, the sadness that was presently radiating off of the woman left him to be devoured by his own bought of uncharacteristic remorse.
He couldn't bear watching this mortal who had had so much fire in her just days ago now wasting away in this empty hall, alone night after night, never uttering a word to anyone or anything, always listening to her music.
Dracula didn't have the heart to disturb her, understanding that his presence would only incite her anger, so he contented himself in watching her, occasionally trying to probe her mind in an effort to see how he could help her, but when she felt him, she'd immediately put her mental wall up. It was like having a door effectively slammed into his face until all he could hear were the muted hums and sounds of her thoughts – never anything coherent.
She was indignant and bold, this one, and though he knew he could very easily shove himself into her mind and compel her to be agreeable, such a course of action was a bit lower than he was willing to stoop.
But Dracula hated seeing her like this – despondent, silent, isolated, and he refused to tolerate it for one more night.
He needed to get her distracted, to open up again as she had when they had first met… before Velkan had come into the picture and spoiled everything. But what to do? Not really wishing to linger in the shadows of the hall anymore, and knowing all too well that she wouldn't move from her spot until the sun rose, he decided to head towards his office where he could try to contrive some sort of plan.
Hera's eyes scanned the night sky idly as music continued to play in her ears, a moving cello concerto saturating her in a strange but elegant kind of sorrow. The edges of the light drapes floated effortlessly in the breeze like ghosts as the wind from the open windows blew them about, the air chilling the mortal's flesh, though she hardly cared.
She hardly cared much for anything anymore.
It had been almost three weeks since the Count had created that "bond" between them, and it exasperated her each time he tried to help himself to her inner most thoughts. She could even occasionally feel him trying to work himself into her dreams when she slept, which meant long hours of staying awake, fighting to keep her mental wall up and against him. But she was growing weary of this battle, the one she was certain she was going to lose. She'd be driven to exhaustion soon enough, and then he'd have full reign over her mind and her will and there was no telling what he'd do, how he'd take advantage her again.
Whether mentally or physically, he'd do it all the same.
Hera was convinced that he didn't care. Dracula, after all, felt nothing.
At least, that's what she automatically assumed.
Hera silently cursed the Count's name for the umpteenth time since her arrival before folding her arms underneath her chest, a scowl furrowing her brow as she continued to stare out at the night, completely unaware that someone was approaching. That is, until they were perhaps a few feet from her.
Marishka had apparently come to visit.
The bride moved silently down the hall and sat beside Hera on the floor, never uttering a word. The blonde bent her knees so she could rest her arms lazily on top of them, her thumbs fiddling mindlessly as the two remained in mutual silence, until Marishka couldn't bear it anymore.
"How much longer do you plan on wallowing up here by yourself?" the bride asked, trying not to sound too interested.
Hera smirked, though she made sure to keep her eyes focused on the floor in front of her.
"Until I can think of something better with which to occupy my time that doesn't involve me having to guard my mind twenty-four-seven."
Marishka glanced over at mortal, a thoughtful smile curving the woman's beautifully full lips. Hera often wondered why Dracula spent so much time on her when three of the most gorgeous women she had ever seen were willingly at his bidding.
It made absolutely no sense.
"You mustn't be so hard on the master," Marishka defended. "What he did truly was for the best."
"You think virtually taking my free will away and having unrestricted access to my thoughts is for the best?" Hera asked, sending the vampire a look of incredulity. But then she sighed in annoyance, looking away. "What would you know? You don't even have much of a free will anymore, do you? You gave that up centuries ago when you let him enslave you. Did you even put up a fight, Marishka?" she asked rather harshly. "Did any of you? Or did you all just give in without thinking about it?"
Marishka easily could have taken offence at Hera's unjustified hostility, but she remained passive as she let the human vent a little. Heaven knew how much she needed it.
"None of us had much to lose, except our lives which were nothing of note to begin with. Besides, we still think for ourselves. It's just our will and his tend to align more frequently than say yours does."
It was woefully tragic to Hera thinking that these three had given up something she held onto so desperately, without so much as a complaint. Perhaps that's why he had chosen them as his brides. Maybe their minds were weak to begin with? No defiance meant no struggle and fewer repercussions or acts of rebelliousness later on. Although the plan was genius, and Hera gave the Count credit for it, that still didn't make it less inhumane in her mind.
No one should be a slave to anyone.
Then again, who was she to talk? Her mind was an open book for him to thumb through whenever he pleased, at least, until this stupid game was over. Dracula had explained that the bond was temporary, that to make it permanent, he'd have to bite her. Thank God he hadn't done that. Yet.
The silence threatened to reign once more until the vampire interrupted it by gracefully rising to her feet.
"So, are you just going to sit here for the next seven months, or what?"
Hera looked up at her.
"There's nothing better to do around here," she remarked, staring back down at the ground. "If I get distracted, he'll start toying with me again." Hera rubbed her face, suddenly aware of just how tired she was. "I swear, there are so many things wrong with this entire situation."
"I don't see why you hate it so much," Marishka replied candidly, placing her hands on her hips. "Most of us would kill to have even a fraction of the attention he's giving you."
Hera grimaced.
"I'd be more than happy to trade places with you."
The vampire stared down at the pathetic, sulking mortal and she cursed under her breath as she grabbed hold of Hera's arm and pulled her to her feet, steering her down the hall.
"Oh for heaven's sake, I can't stand you acting like this," the bride exclaimed as she led Hera out of the corridor and towards the stairs.
"Where are you taking me?"
"I want to show you something," the vampire explained as they rushed down the stairs and towards a specific hall, one that Hera hadn't really explored much of. The bride continued to walk at a brisk pace, unfazed by how fast she was moving. Hera was almost at a jog trying to keep up with her.
"Where are we going?"
Suddenly they stopped in front of a pair of large double doors and Marishka finally let go of Hera's wrist.
"Where are we?"
"You ask a lot of questions," the bride replied, pushing the doors open and entering the room, vanishing into the thick darkness. Hera stood in the doorway, the dim light from the hall offering little assistance in deciphering where Marishka had led her.
"I usually only ask two: what are we dealing with and how do I kill it?" she mumbled to herself, chuckling at the thought of Van Helsing saying that to Anna.
Now there was a person she couldn't wait to meet. If she ever got out of here.
Marishka had heard her comment however because she replied with a confused, "What?" To this, Hera only smiled, slowly entering the room, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
"Nothing."
From what she could tell, the room was enormous… a ballroom perhaps? But the ballroom was on the other side of the fortress? So what was this? A spare?
Moonlight poured into the room as Marishka pulled back the enormous drapes to the windows that covered the entire far wall, floor to ceiling, basking the space in an enchanting glow.
This was indeed a ballroom, with towering walls, a massive chandelier, and the most beautiful polished marble floor. It seemed as though Hera were standing on a mirror, her reflection clear and detailed at her feet. The ceiling was a mural of the night sky with clouds, stars, and the moon in the middle with the chandelier hanging from its center. People clothed in what appeared to be gauze and silks, the colors of the night, were also painted on the ceiling; some dancing while others made love on a bed of clouds. It was one of the most beautiful and sensual paintings Hera had ever laid eyes on.
The high paned windows were vast, allowing the glorious view outside to nearly consume her. The sky seemed so endless from where she stood. There were no mountains… just stars that went on for days.
"What do you think?" she heard Marishka ask from beside her and Hera looked over to see that the vampire had joined her.
"It's a very handsome room," she said. "But it's just another ballroom. What makes this one so special?"
Marishka had a hint of mischievousness sparkling in her eyes as she moved over to the only piece of furniture in the room: a gorgeously sleek, black grand piano which sat almost conspicuously in the center of the room.
"Don't you feel it?" the bride asked the human, a curious purr in her voice.
"Feel what?"
Marishka didn't need to answer because almost immediately Hera became aware of what she had been referring to.
It almost felt like a presence, but not of a person. It was strangely heavy, yet curiously light. She could feel it moving throughout the room, a force that seemed to saturate the walls and the floor, soaking into her skin, slowly overpowering her senses until she could almost feel at one with the chamber itself, as if she was suddenly a driving force, something that could control it.
"There's a special magic in this room," Marishka explained, answering Hera's unasked questions.
"What do you mean?" Hera inquired, turning to face the vampire who now stood beside the piano, having lifted the fallboard, revealing eighty-eight beautiful black and white ivory keys.
Hera could feel her fingers itching to touch the piano. She hadn't played a thing in months and though she was eternally grateful for the music on her iPod, she ached to create something of her own.
"Why don't you see for yourself," Marishka offered, stepping aside and motioning for Hera to take a seat on the plush velvet upholstered bench.
Hera felt undeniably drawn to the instrument, like a moth to a flame – as clichéd as the comparison was – and she allowed herself to move over the instrument without a second thought, taking a seat at the beautiful piano. Her fingers ran lovingly over the keys, but never pushed hard enough for the hammers to hit the strings.
This entire situation almost felt too good to be true and she suddenly became unsure… timid… anxious.
"What do I do?"
"I don't know. Play something."
Hera rested the fingers of her right hand onto the keys, instinctively placing them into the C major chord position. She played the chord and the moment she did, something changed within the room. The atmosphere became lighter, warmer. That feeling swelled deep within her and she situated her left hand on the keys now to join the right and she played a full broken C major chord.
The music floated and Hera noticed the lights of the chandelier had begun to flicker, but as soon as the music stopped, the lights died away. Hera glanced up at Marishka with surprise and the vampire remained silent, a soft curve in her lips as she watched the dead, lifeless look that had dulled Hera's eyes for the past few weeks slowly melt away.
The human began to play chords, all in a major key, each one broken and beautiful, her fingers flying as if it were second nature. Life seemed to flood the room, and Hera could have sworn that the walls and ceiling of the chamber were disappearing.
Thick cumulus clouds now covered the dance floor. The chandelier disappeared until it took on the appearance of the sun as the walls and ceiling melted away into a fantastic blue. Hera stopped playing and just stared at the scene her simple music had created. She had been thinking about the sky and the sun as she had played and it had appeared, right before her eyes.
Hera looked over at Marishka who was staring up at the "sun" in a very serene manner.
"I have not seen the light of the day in over three centuries," the bride whispered softly. "I forgot how beautiful it was."
The prospect slowly began to melt away and soon the clouds, sky, and sun had vanished, and the two women found themselves in the dark ballroom once more.
Hera could feel her emotions getting the better of her as a renewed sense of hope overwhelmed her system. For the first time in what felt like an age, she felt pure, unadulterated joy that was borderline giddiness and it took everything in her to keep from bursting into tears.
Oh, she could have kissed Marishka!
"What do you think?" the bride asked, eager for Hera's response. The mortal looked up at the vampire and smiled the most genuine smile she had had in what felt like a long, long time.
"I think I'm going to be in here for a while," she laughed lightly.
Marishka chuckled and leaned up against the piano as Hera began to play random chords again, the blue sky and clouds reappearing in the room once more. The scene began to move with the music as if a powerful wind were pushing it along. The melody turned from heavenly, to dark, and the clouds and sky matched the composition, becoming black and tumultuous.
Hera played a powerful minor chord and lightning struck, illuminating the now violently dark sky. With more minor keys in the lower octaves, thunder began to roll and lightning cracked, lighting up the room which had turned into a stormy sky of purple, blue, and black. The music became darker, heavier, with a beat that expressed that something was building… advancing.
The clouds turned into the sea as the ceiling became the sky above and as Hera played, the storm of her imagination erupted within the room for all to see. Rain pummeled the roaring waves, lightning cracked and thunder exploded in the clouds and Marishka, seated on the bench beside human, watched Hera's imagination take shape through her music.
It was a wonder to behold.
Soon the storm on the piano died away and the waves calmed to stillness as the ocean became a sea of glass, the sunset in the distance, and as the music faded, so did the vision, and both women were left in the room once more, the moon shining through the window.
XX
She had found the armory, Dracula's private office, a dark and empty looking ballroom that she had peeked her head into before moving on, the brides' separate bedchambers and their private lounge. There was also a study, a parlor, another lounge, a sitting room, and the rest were all guest bedrooms – rarely, if ever, used from the looks of it. But there were plenty of nooks and crannies that were perfect for keeping out of sight.
Hera's favorite place to hide wasn't a room, but rather a hallway in the more easterly portion of the north tower that was consistently quiet, dark, and virtually abandoned. It was a long corridor lined with large windows that went from floor to ceiling, all draped with a ghostly white material that would billow and dance in the cool draft that made its way through.
Every night, after making her rounds, she'd come up to this passage, opening a window or two for ventilation, and then she'd sit on the cold stone floor, her head resting back against the wall. She'd stare blankly out at the dark, mountainous landscape for hours, occasionally listening to the music on her iPod, careful to make certain that her thoughts were on nothing in particular.
She was rarely ever disturbed in this part of the house, only catching the sound of a servant passing by at the far end of the hall; or she'd feel Dracula trying to locate her through their "bond", but that was about all the contact she received.
Every day passed by and it didn't take much time at all for her to lose track of just how long she had been here, not that it mattered in her mind.
Each new evening found Hera increasingly apathetic, solitary, and melancholic.
She quickly grew accustomed to spending her evenings alone, and truth be told, though she was more of an introvert at heart, by her sixth night she found herself craving some kind of connection with another human – even if it was Dracula, although she was still much too stubborn to initiate any kind of conversation with the man.
Although her anger had all but vanished when it came to the vampire, the woman had it in her to hold a grudge and until he made an effort to be less deplorable in her mind, she was determined to sit in the dark alone. Her plan to get back at him by means of silent treatment had been fairly successful thus far, but it was also taking a toll on her well-being.
Because of the lack of distraction, Hera's homesickness had only gotten worse and the depression that came with the self-imposed solitary confinement had begun to deteriorate her health – both physically and mentally. But if Hera was anything, she was stubborn, which left her to continue on like this for two and a half weeks.
One evening in particular found her seated alone in the hall of windows as she usually was, eyes closed, budded headphones plugged into hear ears, the back of her head resting against the wall as she allowed the cold breeze from the open window and the beautiful instrumental music to caress her senses.
Temporarily distracted by the hypnotic lull of the music, Hera was completely unaware that she was being observed by a figure lingering in the shadows, the liquid blue of the onlookers irises swirling like a melted sapphire and silver inferno, breathtaking, spellbinding… if only she'd look into them.
No, Hera stubbornly refused to look into the eyes of the Count every time they crossed paths. Although her tenacious will was frustrating on its own, Dracula couldn't believe that his little stunt had backfired on him, that he was essentially thwarting his own plans.
That mild irritation aside, the sadness that was presently radiating off of the woman left him to be devoured by his own bought of uncharacteristic remorse.
He couldn't bear watching this mortal who had had so much fire in her just days ago now wasting away in this empty hall, alone night after night, never uttering a word to anyone or anything, always listening to her music.
Dracula didn't have the heart to disturb her, understanding that his presence would only incite her anger, so he contented himself in watching her, occasionally trying to probe her mind in an effort to see how he could help her, but when she felt him, she'd immediately put her mental wall up. It was like having a door effectively slammed into his face until all he could hear were the muted hums and sounds of her thoughts – never anything coherent.
She was indignant and bold, this one, and though he knew he could very easily shove himself into her mind and compel her to be agreeable, such a course of action was a bit lower than he was willing to stoop.
But Dracula hated seeing her like this – despondent, silent, isolated, and he refused to tolerate it for one more night.
He needed to get her distracted, to open up again as she had when they had first met… before Velkan had come into the picture and spoiled everything. But what to do? Not really wishing to linger in the shadows of the hall anymore, and knowing all too well that she wouldn't move from her spot until the sun rose, he decided to head towards his office where he could try to contrive some sort of plan.
Hera's eyes scanned the night sky idly as music continued to play in her ears, a moving cello concerto saturating her in a strange but elegant kind of sorrow. The edges of the light drapes floated effortlessly in the breeze like ghosts as the wind from the open windows blew them about, the air chilling the mortal's flesh, though she hardly cared.
She hardly cared much for anything anymore.
It had been almost three weeks since the Count had created that "bond" between them, and it exasperated her each time he tried to help himself to her inner most thoughts. She could even occasionally feel him trying to work himself into her dreams when she slept, which meant long hours of staying awake, fighting to keep her mental wall up and against him. But she was growing weary of this battle, the one she was certain she was going to lose. She'd be driven to exhaustion soon enough, and then he'd have full reign over her mind and her will and there was no telling what he'd do, how he'd take advantage her again.
Whether mentally or physically, he'd do it all the same.
Hera was convinced that he didn't care. Dracula, after all, felt nothing.
At least, that's what she automatically assumed.
Hera silently cursed the Count's name for the umpteenth time since her arrival before folding her arms underneath her chest, a scowl furrowing her brow as she continued to stare out at the night, completely unaware that someone was approaching. That is, until they were perhaps a few feet from her.
Marishka had apparently come to visit.
The bride moved silently down the hall and sat beside Hera on the floor, never uttering a word. The blonde bent her knees so she could rest her arms lazily on top of them, her thumbs fiddling mindlessly as the two remained in mutual silence, until Marishka couldn't bear it anymore.
"How much longer do you plan on wallowing up here by yourself?" the bride asked, trying not to sound too interested.
Hera smirked, though she made sure to keep her eyes focused on the floor in front of her.
"Until I can think of something better with which to occupy my time that doesn't involve me having to guard my mind twenty-four-seven."
Marishka glanced over at mortal, a thoughtful smile curving the woman's beautifully full lips. Hera often wondered why Dracula spent so much time on her when three of the most gorgeous women she had ever seen were willingly at his bidding.
It made absolutely no sense.
"You mustn't be so hard on the master," Marishka defended. "What he did truly was for the best."
"You think virtually taking my free will away and having unrestricted access to my thoughts is for the best?" Hera asked, sending the vampire a look of incredulity. But then she sighed in annoyance, looking away. "What would you know? You don't even have much of a free will anymore, do you? You gave that up centuries ago when you let him enslave you. Did you even put up a fight, Marishka?" she asked rather harshly. "Did any of you? Or did you all just give in without thinking about it?"
Marishka easily could have taken offence at Hera's unjustified hostility, but she remained passive as she let the human vent a little. Heaven knew how much she needed it.
"None of us had much to lose, except our lives which were nothing of note to begin with. Besides, we still think for ourselves. It's just our will and his tend to align more frequently than say yours does."
It was woefully tragic to Hera thinking that these three had given up something she held onto so desperately, without so much as a complaint. Perhaps that's why he had chosen them as his brides. Maybe their minds were weak to begin with? No defiance meant no struggle and fewer repercussions or acts of rebelliousness later on. Although the plan was genius, and Hera gave the Count credit for it, that still didn't make it less inhumane in her mind.
No one should be a slave to anyone.
Then again, who was she to talk? Her mind was an open book for him to thumb through whenever he pleased, at least, until this stupid game was over. Dracula had explained that the bond was temporary, that to make it permanent, he'd have to bite her. Thank God he hadn't done that. Yet.
The silence threatened to reign once more until the vampire interrupted it by gracefully rising to her feet.
"So, are you just going to sit here for the next seven months, or what?"
Hera looked up at her.
"There's nothing better to do around here," she remarked, staring back down at the ground. "If I get distracted, he'll start toying with me again." Hera rubbed her face, suddenly aware of just how tired she was. "I swear, there are so many things wrong with this entire situation."
"I don't see why you hate it so much," Marishka replied candidly, placing her hands on her hips. "Most of us would kill to have even a fraction of the attention he's giving you."
Hera grimaced.
"I'd be more than happy to trade places with you."
The vampire stared down at the pathetic, sulking mortal and she cursed under her breath as she grabbed hold of Hera's arm and pulled her to her feet, steering her down the hall.
"Oh for heaven's sake, I can't stand you acting like this," the bride exclaimed as she led Hera out of the corridor and towards the stairs.
"Where are you taking me?"
"I want to show you something," the vampire explained as they rushed down the stairs and towards a specific hall, one that Hera hadn't really explored much of. The bride continued to walk at a brisk pace, unfazed by how fast she was moving. Hera was almost at a jog trying to keep up with her.
"Where are we going?"
Suddenly they stopped in front of a pair of large double doors and Marishka finally let go of Hera's wrist.
"Where are we?"
"You ask a lot of questions," the bride replied, pushing the doors open and entering the room, vanishing into the thick darkness. Hera stood in the doorway, the dim light from the hall offering little assistance in deciphering where Marishka had led her.
"I usually only ask two: what are we dealing with and how do I kill it?" she mumbled to herself, chuckling at the thought of Van Helsing saying that to Anna.
Now there was a person she couldn't wait to meet. If she ever got out of here.
Marishka had heard her comment however because she replied with a confused, "What?" To this, Hera only smiled, slowly entering the room, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
"Nothing."
From what she could tell, the room was enormous… a ballroom perhaps? But the ballroom was on the other side of the fortress? So what was this? A spare?
Moonlight poured into the room as Marishka pulled back the enormous drapes to the windows that covered the entire far wall, floor to ceiling, basking the space in an enchanting glow.
This was indeed a ballroom, with towering walls, a massive chandelier, and the most beautiful polished marble floor. It seemed as though Hera were standing on a mirror, her reflection clear and detailed at her feet. The ceiling was a mural of the night sky with clouds, stars, and the moon in the middle with the chandelier hanging from its center. People clothed in what appeared to be gauze and silks, the colors of the night, were also painted on the ceiling; some dancing while others made love on a bed of clouds. It was one of the most beautiful and sensual paintings Hera had ever laid eyes on.
The high paned windows were vast, allowing the glorious view outside to nearly consume her. The sky seemed so endless from where she stood. There were no mountains… just stars that went on for days.
"What do you think?" she heard Marishka ask from beside her and Hera looked over to see that the vampire had joined her.
"It's a very handsome room," she said. "But it's just another ballroom. What makes this one so special?"
Marishka had a hint of mischievousness sparkling in her eyes as she moved over to the only piece of furniture in the room: a gorgeously sleek, black grand piano which sat almost conspicuously in the center of the room.
"Don't you feel it?" the bride asked the human, a curious purr in her voice.
"Feel what?"
Marishka didn't need to answer because almost immediately Hera became aware of what she had been referring to.
It almost felt like a presence, but not of a person. It was strangely heavy, yet curiously light. She could feel it moving throughout the room, a force that seemed to saturate the walls and the floor, soaking into her skin, slowly overpowering her senses until she could almost feel at one with the chamber itself, as if she was suddenly a driving force, something that could control it.
"There's a special magic in this room," Marishka explained, answering Hera's unasked questions.
"What do you mean?" Hera inquired, turning to face the vampire who now stood beside the piano, having lifted the fallboard, revealing eighty-eight beautiful black and white ivory keys.
Hera could feel her fingers itching to touch the piano. She hadn't played a thing in months and though she was eternally grateful for the music on her iPod, she ached to create something of her own.
"Why don't you see for yourself," Marishka offered, stepping aside and motioning for Hera to take a seat on the plush velvet upholstered bench.
Hera felt undeniably drawn to the instrument, like a moth to a flame – as clichéd as the comparison was – and she allowed herself to move over the instrument without a second thought, taking a seat at the beautiful piano. Her fingers ran lovingly over the keys, but never pushed hard enough for the hammers to hit the strings.
This entire situation almost felt too good to be true and she suddenly became unsure… timid… anxious.
"What do I do?"
"I don't know. Play something."
Hera rested the fingers of her right hand onto the keys, instinctively placing them into the C major chord position. She played the chord and the moment she did, something changed within the room. The atmosphere became lighter, warmer. That feeling swelled deep within her and she situated her left hand on the keys now to join the right and she played a full broken C major chord.
The music floated and Hera noticed the lights of the chandelier had begun to flicker, but as soon as the music stopped, the lights died away. Hera glanced up at Marishka with surprise and the vampire remained silent, a soft curve in her lips as she watched the dead, lifeless look that had dulled Hera's eyes for the past few weeks slowly melt away.
The human began to play chords, all in a major key, each one broken and beautiful, her fingers flying as if it were second nature. Life seemed to flood the room, and Hera could have sworn that the walls and ceiling of the chamber were disappearing.
Thick cumulus clouds now covered the dance floor. The chandelier disappeared until it took on the appearance of the sun as the walls and ceiling melted away into a fantastic blue. Hera stopped playing and just stared at the scene her simple music had created. She had been thinking about the sky and the sun as she had played and it had appeared, right before her eyes.
Hera looked over at Marishka who was staring up at the "sun" in a very serene manner.
"I have not seen the light of the day in over three centuries," the bride whispered softly. "I forgot how beautiful it was."
The prospect slowly began to melt away and soon the clouds, sky, and sun had vanished, and the two women found themselves in the dark ballroom once more.
Hera could feel her emotions getting the better of her as a renewed sense of hope overwhelmed her system. For the first time in what felt like an age, she felt pure, unadulterated joy that was borderline giddiness and it took everything in her to keep from bursting into tears.
Oh, she could have kissed Marishka!
"What do you think?" the bride asked, eager for Hera's response. The mortal looked up at the vampire and smiled the most genuine smile she had had in what felt like a long, long time.
"I think I'm going to be in here for a while," she laughed lightly.
Marishka chuckled and leaned up against the piano as Hera began to play random chords again, the blue sky and clouds reappearing in the room once more. The scene began to move with the music as if a powerful wind were pushing it along. The melody turned from heavenly, to dark, and the clouds and sky matched the composition, becoming black and tumultuous.
Hera played a powerful minor chord and lightning struck, illuminating the now violently dark sky. With more minor keys in the lower octaves, thunder began to roll and lightning cracked, lighting up the room which had turned into a stormy sky of purple, blue, and black. The music became darker, heavier, with a beat that expressed that something was building… advancing.
The clouds turned into the sea as the ceiling became the sky above and as Hera played, the storm of her imagination erupted within the room for all to see. Rain pummeled the roaring waves, lightning cracked and thunder exploded in the clouds and Marishka, seated on the bench beside human, watched Hera's imagination take shape through her music.
It was a wonder to behold.
Soon the storm on the piano died away and the waves calmed to stillness as the ocean became a sea of glass, the sunset in the distance, and as the music faded, so did the vision, and both women were left in the room once more, the moon shining through the window.
XX
