A Terrible Beauty by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781771481885
Publisher: ChiZine
Published: 2014-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

The rock was as large as her hand, a rough, reassuring weight in her palm. Once a round node, it had been cut in half to expose the nest of crystal in its heart. Sidonie’s fingers stroked the polished surface, an old gesture of unconscious pleasure.

She stared at the window, not seeing the room’s reflection in the glass.

It was not going badly, she told herself again. This was only to be expected. She had seen it before. That knowledge did not seem to make it easier to watch it happening again, to watch the dark crescents beneath Matthew’s eyes deepening, to watch his face grow pallid and thin. She suspected that he did not eat except for the meals she prepared for him. She knew that he drank far too much. He had grown careless with his appearance, his hair turning lank and unclean, the rough beginnings of beard going unshaven.

Each night, he locked himself in the ballroom and painted. Or, at least, she presumed he did. She had only the scent of turpentine that lingered on his hands and clothing on which to base the supposition. She had not broken her promise not to go into the ballroom, though more than once she had stood at the door, contemplating the mysterious shapes and shadows inside during the hours after he had finally gone to bed. All of his completed paintings were placed facing the wall and she had no idea at all what inspiration he found to cover their canvases. The strange assembly of tables, chairs and the dressmaker’s dummy seemed to form circle after circle surrounding his easel, as if somehow such clutter could protect him.

He retired later each night, until she could almost believe his hours had come to echo hers, as she had prophesied. He told her that he still rose in the early afternoon, to catch the natural light. It was as if he were afraid to sleep, even during those hours when she was helpless and he was safe from her.

It had happened despite her best intentions. She had tried very hard not to frighten him more than necessary, though she knew she could have reduced him to gibbering terror if she chose. She had made no move to seduce him, though she could have done that too, despite the undercurrent of fear, even revulsion, that she sensed when he looked at her. Blood won by either of those methods would do her no good; experience had shown her that.

Do you know that blood won by any other methods will be any different? a mocking voice asked. How do you know that you could drink the blood of God himself and have it make any difference?

Her fingers clenched around the paperweight in her hand. She had to proceed as if it were possible. She had to choose the path as best she could. She had purged the last traces of mortal blood from her, feeding only on animals for months. She used none of her preternatural powers against Matthew, except for the night of his failed escape.

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