Torn Between Souls

HURRICANE

Humming.

Eggs.

Hungry.

Those words flashed through my head as my stomach grumbled, and I stretched, feeling the sunlight washing over my skin. As I blinked open my eyes, I saw a refreshed looking Marianne, stoking the fireplace, humming a tune under her breath.

My eyes made their way to the table, where a heaping pile of eggs, various breakfast meats, and a bowl of fruits lay beside a steaming cup of-

“Tea,” I murmured, slipping out from underneath the covers.

“I make the best tea, ragazza, it’s a special blend,” she chuckled as I sat at the wooden table, taking the cup into my hands.

I sipped the slightly spicy, flavorful liquid as I sighed in content, “I will have to agree. I’ve never been much of a tea drinker, but this changes everything,”

“I will teach you how to make it!” she exclaimed softly, “You can do it yourself then as well.”

I nodded and began to pick at the food. Marianne scolded me for not changing into any of the many pajama sets in the giant wardrobe, and I had to promise to wear them tonight. She laid out another set of clothes for me, and she was drawing a bath that she insisted upon despite me just soaking for hours last night when I asked her the question burning in my mind.

“Where is Matteo?”

Marianne’s short, plump frame paused for a moment before she resumed. I watched her exit the bathroom, and she smoothed her skirt. She seemed to be slightly unsure of what to say, which surprised me, as she seemed more sure of herself.

“He is attending to some family business. Work,” she said, “There is plenty you can keep busy with.”

I frowned, and rested my head on my hand, pushing around the last few bites of egg on my plate. Where was he? Family business? Was this because his mother hated me, and my...kind?

I felt Marianne’s warm fingers in my hair, “Let’s forget the bath, ragazza. Why don’t I help you with your hair, and I will show you the garden.”

I paused, and then nodded, my voice barely a whisper, “Thank you.”

After I dressed in a pair of fitted, dark blue ankle trousers, which appeared to be a staple piece in this wardrobe, and a peach-colored cashmere sweater over a silk camisole, along with a pair of lined leather boots, Marianne worked her magic.

Her deft fingers wove my hair into a snug, flattering plait down my back. I could never get my wild waves and curls to sit in a braid! A few pieces were still jumping out around my face, but it was a relief to have it out of the way for the most part.

She led me downstairs after handing me a grey coat. We didn’t go through the front door, but instead walked further down the hall, away from the front door. We passed a massive staircase and took a right. I couldn’t imagine how easy it would be for me to get lost here.

We finally exited out of a side door, Into a lovely garden. There was an old, paved stone path that wove through the various bushes, beds, plants, and flowers. Marianne grasped a large woven basket and handed it to me.

“We’ll pick herbs for tea,” she nodded at me, before beginning to walk.

“How long have you worked for the Volantin’s?” I asked her, curious about her origins.

“It’s a long story,” she chuckled, as she plucked a few long stems off an herb plant, the fragrance billowing over us as she set them in the basket.

“I have time,” I murmured, a piece of my heart sighing.

It felt like I had a piece of myself missing. The warm tugging feeling that bowed my spine, and knotted my insides when Matteo was around was gone. I felt empty. Tired. Lonely. Talking to Marianne helped distract me.

“Well, I didn’t become Elisa’s help until after Matthieu died, in 1823. I had lived in the village for a long time. Elisa was grief-stricken, and she slaughtered the entire staff,” Marianne said in a calm voice, “sanguinoso disastro.” (Bloody disaster.)

I felt my face pale slightly at her demeanor when speaking about the slaughter of such a great number of people. My knowledge of history knew that there had once been many people employed by a manor- a castle- like this.

“I was in the town, visiting my daughter when I was attacked by a rogue vampire seeking the destruction of Elisa and her family because of her own selfishness. I don’t know why still, but Elisa saved me. She made me a vampire. I have served her since,” she continued, “I don’t get paid, but she is my companion as much as I am hers. We are comfortable.”

"What of your family? Your daughter?" I asked curiously.

"She was an I'll child. She died not long after Elisa changed me. Don't fret, ragazza, as I said, I am comfortable," she smiled softly.

Comfortable, I thought, but not for long as we were soon greeted by a smiling Ada. Her hair was pulled back into a half-up, half-down, and she wore a cream-colored skirt, with a thick sweater. Still, she should’ve been cold but then again, vampire.

“Marianne. Rose,” she said, her voice warm, but careful, “Enjoying the garden?”

Marianne hardly paid her any mind, continuing to pinch at different herb plants, adding them to the basket, “Good morning, Ada.”

“Yes the garden is beautiful,” I smiled, shifting between my feet.

Ada’s beauty up close was incredible. Her delicate, feminine features were so eye-catching. I felt mousy, and small in comparison.

She c****d her head, “Would you like to have lunch with me today? I leave soon for Germany, and I’d love to get to know you a bit.”

I chewed my bottom lip and then nodded, before watching her saunter off. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“You are a fiore raro,” Marianne breathed, “Don’t let her get under your skin. Now come, there is tea to make.” (Rare flower.)

The day passed quickly.

I had an uneventful, quiet lunch with Ada. She mostly talked, describing her travels through Europe. Marianne had me make tea with her, a long grueling process in which we washed and prepped over a dozen herbs before pressing them between parchment and baking them to quickly dry them, and then finally taking individual pinches from each bowl to fill each sachet.

I was set to the task of helping make bread with her as well before I ate dinner in the study upstairs. I fell asleep on the couch in front of the fire again but in pajamas this time.

No strong, warm arms carried me to the bed.

I similarly spent the next few days. I helped in the garden, or the kitchen with Marianne, I’d visit the horses in the stables. They were massive, but calm creatures. I’d eat lunch with Ada, and I’d read, and eat, and read and eat. The days drug on. No one would tell me where Matteo was. He wasn’t answering my phone calls. My texts.

My appetite grew lighter and lighter. I’d help Marianne in the kitchen for hours just to play with the food on my plate. Marianne scolded me for not eating but I could hardly hear her. I stopped helping. I didn’t want to leave bed. I would sleep, and take baths occasionally. After a week, Marianne stopped scolding me. She stopped asking questions. Ada stopped coming for lunch as she left for Germany.

I felt incomplete. Empty. Sullen. I hated this.

I hated Matteo.

I was lying in the bed as the evening rolled in, watching as Marianne stoked the fire. She began to clear my full dishes. It had been eleven days since Matteo left.

“Where is he, Marianne?” I asked her, my voice quiet.

She could hear me.

“Matteo is busy with work, ragazza,” she said, her answer always the same.

Anger filled me. How dare she? How dare he? After all that I went through he just left me here with hardly a word. I stood from the bed, taking a step towards her.

“I said, where is he, Marianne?” I said, my voice louder, and hard.

Marianne looked at me with a sad, almost dizzy expression.

“He’s away,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

“Marianne!” I yelled this time, anger fueling every word as I stepped closer to her, “Where. Is. Matteo?! I’m tired of this! I can’t do this anymore! He saved me and then he just-he just left!”

I felt tears welling in my eyes as she just stared back at me. I yelled for him again, but my voice broke, and a sob escaped me. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I fell to my knees, the tears falling uncontrollably.

I couldn’t breathe. I could feel the tears, but as the sobs ripped through me, all I could think was that I wanted to drown. Drown in these beads of saltwater so I never had to feel this way again.

I could see Marianne's concerned face grow fearful as she flashed out of the room. She returned shortly after with a frowning Elisa. I could hear them yelling at each other over the sound of the water in my ears, and I realized I was in a puddle, a very, very large puddle.

But I couldn’t stop crying. Suddenly Marianne and Elisa picked me up, and within a few minutes, they had seated me near the creek that ran away from the house.

My tears grew bigger. The sound of water in my ears was now a roar. My head felt heavy. Elisa was coming towards me, her palms extended, Marianne close behind her. But I was so mad!

“Get away from me!” I screamed, “Get away from me! Tell me where Matteo is!”

The water around me seemed to grow into a form, encasing me in a ball made of whirling water, rushing past me at the speed of light. I could hear the roaring outside the ball. I could see the water lashing out at Elisa and Marianne.

But I was in the eye of the storm.

I was a hurricane that matched the emotions in my heart. I felt myself coming undone. Didn't he want me? Didn't he care? My resolve began to waver.

Elisa’s face was calm again, as I panted, my body wet, and freezing. I shook uncontrollably as the water around me seemed to slow down, the tear running down my cheeks returning to their normal size. She moved slowly towards me as the water slowed more, and more, and finally, it fell to the ground, running across the grass towards the creek.

I felt Elisa’s hands grip my shoulders, and her sharp, green, and grey eyes stared back into mine.

“Call Matteo,” she said softly, and Marianne instantly pulled out her phone, before I collapsed into Elisa.

She lifted me into her arms. I could hear Marianne speak rapid Italian into the phone before she assisted Elisa.

“We need to get her warm. She’ll freeze to death,” Elisa said, though I could barely hear her.

I felt almost deaf after the roaring stopped. I was shaking so hard I couldn’t breathe, my teeth chattering against each other. They brought me to the room, and I heard the bath running. They stripped me of my light silk pajamas, and I stood before them, naked as the day I was born.

“This will hurt,” was all Elisa said to be before they pushed me into the scalding water.

I screamed. I screamed until I was hoarse. Until the hot water had melted into my ice-cold skin enough to stop burning me. Elisa ran her fingers through my hair the entire time, whispering a soft melody under her breath as Marianne warmed towels near the fire.

When the water lost some of its heat, they wrapped me in the almost hot towels, drying me. I felt numb. My body was sore. My eyes burned. My ears and head ached.

They settled me into pajamas and wrapped me up in the covers. Marianne set warmers in between the sheets. She plaited my hair and forced a cup of hot tea into my hands. Elisa stood at the foot of the bed while Marianne tended to me. I avoided her gaze, absently staring into my mug.

A phone rang, and my head snapped up, as Elisa brought it to her ear.

“Matteo,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly at me.

“Let me-” I tried to speak but my voice was hardly a hoarse whisper.

“She could’ve flooded the manor. She set off a hurricane at the creek,” she spoke quickly into the phone.

I could hear the other end of the voice speaking fervently, as Marianne rubbed my back, encouraging me to drink the tea, but I just stared at Elisa. Elisa who held my eyes the entire time. She spoke in rapid, almost implausibly fast Italian. The conversation carried on, before finally, finally, she extended her phone to me.

I lunged for it, ignoring my body’s protest, and brought it to my ear. I couldn’t speak.

“Rose?” Matteo’s familiar, warm voice sang.

There was a tug at my spine, and I let out a broken sob.

“Rose? Rose, I’m so sorry,” he said hurriedly.

After a moment, I managed to croak back into the phone, “Come...back.”

“Yes, mio fiore, I’m coming back...please rest,” he said, his own voice full of emotion.

I nodded softly, and handed the phone back to Elisa, before I slumped back, finally taking a small sip of tea. After another moment, Elisa hung up.

I fell asleep to Elisa humming a song and brushing my hair out of my face My heart knowing it would be whole again soon.

MATTEOPOV

“Come...back,” she said, her lilting voice sounding husky, and forced.

I had hurt her. I had hurt her despite all my efforts to not. I couldn’t force myself out of this anymore. I could only try to protect her, by her side. My heart ached terribly for this fire-haired witch who had put her spell on me.

My heart that I thought had shriveled up and died long ago.

“Yes, mio fiore, I’m coming back…” I managed, my voice heavy even to my own ears, “Please rest.”

She didn’t say anything else, and I heard Elisa back on the line. Her Italian was fast. Fast enough that normal human ears couldn’t pick it up.

“Think this through,” she said before she hung up.

I stood from my chair, and instantly called Christian, scheduling a private plane to come to get me from the compound in Montana. I needed to get to her and fast.

“Amigo,” Emanuel spoke from the other side of the room, “So you are going back?”

He stood leaning against the door frame of the bedroom that I sat in. I had completed my work in Oregon, leaving Christian to maintain the office and the lab, and then I had come here. Avoiding it all. Avoiding her. Avoiding what I felt.

I nodded, “She needs me.”

Emanuel scoffed, “You need her just as much.”

He thought I was still oblivious. He thought I hadn’t figured it out yet. That I hadn’t figured out that something much older, much deeper was at play here. That I hadn’t figured out that being away from Rose was tearing me apart physically, just as much as it was her.

But I had.

I looked into his dark eyes, my own strong, unwavering. I would no longer deny this.

“I do.”