Falling Between (The Vaettir Serial, #1) Page 2

  With a curt nod Sophie did just as he asked. I watched her go, nervous to be left alone with the man. “Face me, Madeline,” he said softly.

  I turned slowly around, somehow more nervous now than I had been since first waking up. Maybe the shock was finally wearing off. Or maybe I was just losing my mind.

  “Forgive us for capturing you so abruptly,” he began as I met his gaze. “I would have liked to leave you be, but I am afraid our need is simply too great.”

  “W-what need?” I stammered. What could this man possibly need from me? A million thoughts raced through my head, none of them rational.

  “What do you know of the Vaettir?” he asked.

  “I don't know that term.” I answered cautiously. “Should I?”

  The old man smiled patiently, making me feel like a child back in school. “Two more common terms for what we are would be Wiht or Wight.”

  “Aren't Wights like, zombies?” I asked, not sure where he was going with this.

  “In more common renditions, I suppose,” he answered. “But I assure you, the Vaettir are not undead. Quite the opposite, actually. We are beings of nature.”

  I laughed, a sharp bark of sound in the quiet room. The old man's face didn't change. He simply waited for me to speak.

  “Wait,” I said finally. “You're trying to tell me that you are this Vaettir thingy?”

  The old man nodded, quite serious. “As are you,” he replied simply.

  The smile wilted from my face. “You're kidding, right?” I asked, but his face still didn't change. “Tell me you're not about to reveal that I'm some lost magical princess.”

  The thought was absurd. I'd been abducted by a bunch of crazies. I guess crazies are better than rapists and murderers . . . unless they were those things as well.

  Finally the old man smiled. “No my dear,” he answered. “You are definitely not our long-lost princess. You're our executioner.”

  I started laughing again. I couldn't help it. The old man was obviously serious, but the whole idea was preposterous.

  “What do you know of your parents?” he asked me.

  So he obviously had done some research on me, and knew that I grew up in the foster system. “That doesn't mean a thing,” I replied. “Not every abandoned baby ends up being a wizard, or a fairy, or what-have-you.”

  “No,” he chuckled. “But in your case . . . ”

  I stood, deciding that I'd rather take my chances with James or Alaric than sit there listening to crazy stories. The old man slammed his hand on the table, and my legs collapsed underneath me. I barely managed to grab onto the chair to keep myself off of the ground as I fell. I tried to stand again and didn't even make it halfway out of my seat.

  “I apologize,” he said serenely. “This was not how I hoped this meeting would go.”

  I looked around the room frantically for some sort of explanation. My legs wouldn't work. This had to be some sort of trick. “What's happening?” I demanded, feeling almost too panicked to breathe.

  “If you would stop trying to stand,” the old man said with a friendly smile. “I would not have to force you to sit.”

  My eyes widened. He was claiming that he could make me sit . . . with what, his mind? Of course, I was sitting against my will with no other explanation to go off of.

  “Who are you?” I asked, forcing myself to breathe evenly.

  “My name is Estus,” he replied. “I am Doyen of this clan.”

  “Doyen?” I asked. “And clan?”

  A hint of impatience flickered across Estus' face. “We should never have left you to the humans for so long,” he sighed.

  “So why did you?” I asked, not yet believing him, but interested in his answers none-the-less.

  “A clan only needs one executioner,” he explained. “Any others born with the specific . . . qualities of an executioner are exiled.”

  “Why?” I asked, finding the idea of exiling a baby more than a little harsh.

  “Too many executioners over the centuries have ended up killing each other,” he said with a laugh, though I wasn't sure what was funny about people killing each other. “If we continued to let them live together, we'd end up without any executioners at all. Now, if we send the extras out into the world, we may call them back when we are in need of a replacement.”

  I moved my tongue around in my mouth to try and get some saliva going, but it was no use. I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “And you're in need of a replacement?” I asked.

  “Precisely,” he answered, seeming relieved that I understood.

  If these crazy people wanted me to be their executioner, that meant that they were going to try keeping me with them. It also likely meant that they were going to expect me to kill people. I could never do that. Someone would have to come looking for me eventually. They had to.

  I mean, people don't just disappear without the police being notified. Of course, it might take a while for them to get notified. I had no parents to report me missing, and no spouse. I had a few friends, but the scenario of them not hearing from me for a few weeks wasn't unheard of. I did freelance writing for a living, so there were no coworkers or bosses to report me missing. I had a landlord . . . but seeing as it was only the 8th of the month, he wouldn't be expecting a rent check for a while. I'd never thought that being antisocial would come back to bite me in such a major way.

  Estus gave me several minutes to digest everything. I still didn't fully believe him, though the fact that I was quite literally glued to my seat definitely gave me pause. Regardless, that moment wasn't the time for escape. I was better off going along with whatever Estus said until they left me alone again.

  “I can see that you are having some trouble believing what I say,” he stated finally.

  “No,” I lied. “I understand.”

  Some of the smile slipped from Estus' face. “Tell me what happened with Matthew,” he said abruptly, freezing me to the core.

  My breath caught in my throat. “How do you know about that?” I croaked.

  Estus eyed me steadily. “Just because we left you on your own, does not mean that we let you go. Not entirely. Now tell me.”

  “No,” I replied. “That's private.” I gripped the edges of my chair until my hands ached as I tried to push away the memories. That specific story was one I never planned on sharing with anybody.

  “It was not your fault,” he consoled. “It is your nature.”

  I was beginning to shake as I held back tears, but the memories weren't held back as easily. We'd been in a car accident. Several cars had been involved. Others had died, but we weren't overly hurt. Matthew's wrist was sprained or broken, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Good samaritans had helped us out of our car to wait on the side of the road for the paramedics.

  We were sitting in the grass, and it was killing me to see Matthew gritting his teeth against the pain. I'd always been highly affected by the pain of others to an extent that made me avoid hospitals like the plague. I reached out and smoothed my hand across his face, hoping to sooth him just a bit and in effect soothe myself. He looked at me, suddenly not just in pain, but frightened. His fear made my heart hammer in my throat. I felt a rush of energy as it left him, that spark of life. I watched as it left his eyes. I was so shocked as he slumped over that I didn't even scream. Later I would try telling myself that he'd damaged something internally in the accident, but I knew it was a lie. I just stared at him as the paramedics arrived and rushed over to us.

  I rode next to his dead body in the ambulance as they did their best to resuscitate him. I was later told that they could not find the exact cause of death. They wrote it off as a small brain hemorrhage, but I knew otherwise. Some tiny voice screamed in my mind that it was me. I'd killed Matthew.

  “You are probably starving,” he said sympathetically as he watched the emotions play across my face. “Sophie will escort you to the kitchens. We will speak more when you are at full strength.”

  As if on c
ue, Sophie came back into the room. I looked to Estus frantically to see if I was allowed to stand, and he shooed me away. I took a deep breathe and stood without any unseen force impeding me.

  I turned and followed Sophie's slim form without another word to Estus. I felt shaky on my feet, but I kept walking. That's all we can ever really do.

  We went back through the throne room and down another narrow hallway. I distracted myself by taking in my surroundings, and noticed with a start that I had not seen one single window in any of the thick, stone walls. I looked around for the source of light that illuminated the hall, but I couldn't find one.

  I trotted to catch up to Sophie and walk beside her. “Where does the light come from?” I asked.

  Sophie rolled her eyes as she walked. “The Salr provides its own light.”

  “The sah-what?” I asked.

  “Salr, Sah-lur,” she sounded out for me. “It is where we live.”

  “I don't understand,” I replied. “How can a place provide its own light without any windows?”

  Sophie sighed and finally stopped to turn to me. “Estus explained to you what we are, yes?”

  “Kind of,” I answered. “But-”

  “You still don't believe him,” she finished for me. She gripped me by my shoulders and looked straight into my eyes. “Watch,” she instructed.

  Not sure what I was supposed to be watching, I looked into her eyes. As I watched, her dark irises flashed to golden with large flecks of green. Her pupils narrowed until they looked like cat eyes. I tried to jerk away, but her hands held me iron-tight.

  “What the hell was that?” I whispered.

  Sophie abruptly let go of my shoulders and started walking again. “My brother and I are Bastet,” she explained, as if it made all of the sense in the world.

  I knew that Bastet was the cat-headed Egyptian goddess of warfare, but I didn't think Sophie was claiming to be a goddess. “Estus said that you're Vaettir,” I said, feeling extremely silly for discussing it so seriously.

  “We are,” she said simply.

  We passed through a large dining area and into a kitchen the size of what a large restaurant would have. There were large pots filled with boiling liquids on the industrial sized stove. Sophie retrieved a large bowl and began filling it with what looked like beef stew.

  “I'm vegan,” I chimed in.

  She dumped the stew back into the pot irritably. “Of course you are,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “Because a vegan executioner totally makes sense.”

  “I'm not an executioner,” I corrected. “You've all made a mistake.”

  “Whatever you say,” she replied as she began hacking away at a large loaf of bread. “Cheese?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No cheese, eggs, or other animal products.”

  Sophie snorted. “Well that's irritating.” She opened a large, walk-in refrigerator and disappeared inside, eventually emerging with an armful of vegetables. She placed them on a cutting board and began chopping haphazardly. Within a few minutes I was seated at the large counter in the kitchen with an all vegetable sandwich placed in front of me. I knew that the bread was likely made with eggs, but the sight of Sophie wielding the large kitchen knife had prompted me to keep my mouth shut.

  I really was starving though, so I picked up the sandwich and prepared to take a bite. “How is our little executioner doing?” Someone whispered right beside my ear. No one had been there a moment before.

  I jumped and dropped my sandwich back to its plate, causing it to fall apart. I turned to find Alaric staring at me from just a few inches away.

  My pulse quickened as he swept my hair away from my face to reveal my neck. “You know there's no meat on your sandwich?” he asked, looking at my neck instead of my face.

  I scooted my stool a few inches away from him. He didn't seem offended. In fact, he pulled another stool up close and sat with his knee touching mine. I was glad that he'd at least found a shirt somewhere as he leaned against me.

  Sophie cleared her throat behind us. She sat near the door drinking a cup of coffee. I would have loved some coffee, but I didn't really want to ask her for anything else. I already had the feeling that she hadn't appreciated having to make a sandwich for me.

  Seeing my longing gaze, Alaric rose from his seat and poured two more cups from the pot Sophie had made. He placed one cup beside me, then sat in his original position.

  I sipped the coffee gratefully, feeling instantly more stable as the warm liquid poured down my throat, warming the icy pit that had formed in my insides. Alaric sipped on his own coffee as he watched me.

  I glanced at him, feeling increasingly awkward. “Do you have to do that?” I asked.

  “Do what?” he replied as he picked up a piece of my hair to play with.

  “Be creepy,” I replied as I gathered up my sandwich.

  He laughed and dropped my hair, but didn't scoot away. He watched me take the first bite of my sandwich. “You know,” he said. “A lot of women don't like being watched while they eat.”

  I washed the first bite down with a sip of coffee. With only vegetables on the hard bread, the sandwich was a little dry. “I don't care if you watch me,” I replied. “Just don't touch me.”

  “Well you two are obviously getting along,” Sophie quipped. “So I'll just let Alaric show you back to your room.”

  Before I could stop her, she stood and left the kitchen. I had to quickly close my gaping jaw as I turned back to Alaric. “Eat your sandwich,” he said good-naturedly.

  I took another bite of the dry sandwich and had even more trouble swallowing than before. It had seemed like a good idea to eat, but now each bite was beginning to feel like heavy lead in my stomach. I put the sandwich down on the plate, suddenly disgusted with it.

  “Black isn't your color,” Alaric commented. “I tried to pick your clothes, but I was over-ruled.”

  “Who picked them?” I asked.

  “Sophie,” he replied. “She chose them while you were still sleeping. I take it you will be staying with us?”

  I pushed my sandwich plate away. Yeah, definitely done. “Like I have a choice,” I answered sullenly.

  Alaric laughed as he spun down off of his stool in one liquid motion. “I suppose not.”

  I suddenly felt the tears welling up again. I didn't know why they chose to hit just then, a delayed reaction I guess. I looked down at my uneaten sandwich and cried, because I didn't know what else to do.

  Chapter Three

  Alaric had waited while I cried. He didn't try to comfort me. I was grateful. It would have been just a little too strange having one of my captors showing that type of compassion.

  My tears had left me numb and thoroughly without an appetite. I left the sandwich on the counter so Alaric could walk me back to my room. He reached my door first and held it open for me, the picture of a perfect gentleman. Yeah right. I turned and looked at him, hoping he would leave me alone without a fuss. He didn't.

  “I'm tired,” I said, hoping to appeal to his sense of mercy.

  “I know you've been through a lot-” he began.

  “That's a vast understatement,” I interrupted.

  “And I know you probably don't have warm, fuzzy feelings towards any of us right now,” he went on.

  “Keep going,” I sighed. “You're on a roll.”

  Alaric laughed. “Your ability to be sarcastic under the direst of circumstances is quite impressive.”

  “Would you rather I screamed and begged for my life?” I questioned.

  “It might be interesting,” he replied. “Though your life is in no danger.”

  I sat down on the foot of the ornate bed, smoothing the thick comforter with my hands. “You don't have to die in order to lose your life,” I argued.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “And your life was so great before?” he questioned.

  I glared at him. “It was nothing special, but at least I had a choice in what I did.”

  “And you c
hose to shut yourself up in your little house,” he said softly. “No, I don't think we took you away from very much at all.”

  I continued to glare. “You know, I preferred you when you were flirtatious.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “As my lady commands.”

  I smiled, then quickly wiped it away. A girl shouldn't smile at her kidnapper, even when he was trying to cheer her up. “I'm tired,” I said again.

  He nodded. “I wouldn't go wandering,” he advised. “Many things less pleasant than my sister wander these halls.”

  With that ominous advice ringing in the air, he left the room and shut the door. I leaned down and took off the high-heeled boots. Apparently I'd just been dressed up to meet with Estus. He was their leader, in some way, so I suppose he merited proper attire.

  I paced around the room, not happy to be left with only the form-fitting dress to wear. There were a few dressers in the room that matched the bed, so I started going through them. Many of the drawers were empty, but eventually I came to two drawers filled with clothes. I found some silky red pajama pants with a matching shirt, but passed them over. I didn't actually want to go to sleep. I wanted to find a way out.

  I searched through the clothes a little bit more and came out with a pair of black jeans and an indigo blue tee shirt. The jeans fit me like a glove. My imprisonment had obviously been well-planned. Gre-at.

  I felt slightly better in normal clothing. There was even a pair of black running shoes underneath the dresser. It was as if they actually wanted me to run. I was happy to oblige.

  When I could find nothing else of use in the room, I sat on the bed to wait. Hopefully everyone would go to sleep and I could search for an exit unhindered. I wasn't sure how anyone could even tell that it was night-time without windows, but I felt tired enough for it to be night. That meant that it had already been a full day since I'd been taken.

  I tried to just wait on the bed, but I was too nervous to sit still. Instead I began examining the room, even though there wasn't much to it. A new fire had been lit before I was re-delivered to my room. It crackled happily as it gave off its warmth, contrasting drastically with my mood.