Broken (2 page)

"We should probably be going," Genevieve said. "It's getting late." She pushed her sister back a step and gave them a small curtsy. "It was a pleasure to meet you both."

Atticus made a move to stop her but his hand fell back to his side when she stepped away from him. Genevieve glanced back at him before disappearing into the woods. Merle slapped him on his shoulder. "I didn't think I'd ever see the day, but that woman wanted nothing to do with you cousin."

"Hmm," Atticus murmured while he stared at the place where she had been standing. "We'll see."

Merle laughed as he turned away and mounted his horse again. "It seems you may have found something else to hunt in the coming weeks."

"It seems I may have," he replied and swung easily into his saddle. "Or perhaps a distraction."

"I'd take one of those in this land; perhaps I'll hunt the pretty one." Atticus didn't think he and Merle had the same idea about who the pretty one was. "Though I think she may be a little too young for my liking."

"I think so too," Atticus said as they rode deeper into the forest. His enthusiasm for hunting animals was all but gone.

"You were a little rude," Camille scolded as they made their way back through the woods towards town.

"You were a little too friendly," Genny retorted.

Camille shook her head and pulled her braid over her shoulder to fiddle with the loose ends of it. "He seemed interested in you."

"That's exactly what I need," Genny grumbled aloud but secretly she was thrilled at her sister's words.

His eyes haunted every step that she took further away from the two men. She could close her eyes and recall them clearly for they were not the kind of eyes easily forgotten, nor was the face of the man in which those eyes were set.

"The other one was exceptionally handsome too," Camille murmured thoughtfully.

"He was a little too old for you."

"Perhaps but he was still attractive and wealthy too."

"You sound like Marie."

Camille's mouth dropped, she sputtered in indignation at the comparison to their mother. "Take that back!" She stomped her foot and tossed her braid aside.

"I'm sorry," Genny apologized. "I just don't want you to get hurt. They were aristocrats Camille."

"That's better than Marie has ever done."

Genny shook her head. "Well you're prettier than Marie ever was."

"You really think so?" Camille asked eagerly.

"Vanity is a sin," Genny reminded her.

"You just sounded like one of those pious humans," Camille retorted with an inelegant snort before bumping Genny's hip playfully. "Besides I know you're right, I'm just teasing. Men aren't in the plans, especially not noble ones; they're as trustworthy as a snake. But even you can't deny that they were both exceedingly handsome."

Genny laughed as she placed her hands on a downed log currently blocking their path. Climbing over the toppled tree, she wiped her hands clean of the bark that clung to her palms before continuing toward the vampire village with her sister. She glanced toward the darkening sky and picked up her pace as dusk began to descend. "We have to hurry," she urged Camille.

"I know," her sister said and scrambled to catch up with her.

Though she was only four years younger, at eighteen Camille was still too young to have fully matured. Genny believed it was coming soon though. She herself had stopped aging earlier than most, at nineteen, and Camille had always been mature for her age, but then they'd had no choice but to grow up fast. Genny didn't know who her father was, but she could vaguely recall a vampire with auburn colored hair whom she thought might be Camille's father. There had been so many different men in Marie's life over the years, but when Camille asked about her father, Genny liked to tell her about the nicest one she could remember, who would have been around at about the same time Camille was conceived.

Genny lifted her skirts and leapt over a puddle before scrambling up the embankment to the dirt road beyond. She turned back to help Camille up the last few feet and onto the road. "Go on without me," Camille insisted as she straightened her skirt.

Genny shook her head and wrapped her arm through Camille's as she pulled her down the street. Her ankle boots slipped in the mud but she hurried on, passing by a group of chickens that were pecking at the worms rising from the earth. The King's Watchmen bowed their heads as they passed by a couple of them guarding the club where vampires sometimes went to feed. Though the humans inside the club had volunteered to be there, they weren't allowed to wander freely around.

More of the Watchmen, which belonged to the aristocrats now that King Harry was dead, were scattered throughout the vampire village to keep watch and to protect the village in case there was an uprising amongst the humans. Uprisings were rare, as most people didn't believe in vampires or know where to find them, but there had been one in Germany recently that had caused the now dead king to order all vampires out of that country for the next fifty years.

Camille strained to keep up but Genny wasn't about to leave her sister behind as she tugged more firmly on her arm. Genny waved to the vampires she knew along the way but for the most part she paid them little attention as she honed in on the hut sitting away from the others at the end of the road. The thatched roof glistened with rain but it wasn't the weight of the water that was causing it to sag, it was the neglect it had experienced over the years since it had been built.

Genny's belly already turned in disgust and apprehension before she'd even arrived at the open, sagging wood door. "Go straight to our room," she said to Camille before stepping through the door.

"You're late!" The words were barked at her from the direction of the fireplace and caused her lip to curl into a sneer. Her nose wrinkled at the stench of stale ale and body odor that permeated the small house. Marie's newest find, and her worst by far, was the cause of most of the stench as he sat in the corner in the only rickety chair left in the house. Furniture never lasted more than a couple of weeks in this hovel.

"Good to see you too, Felix," she muttered and pushed Camille toward their room in the back.

Camille gave her a sympathetic look and tried to linger but Genny continued to usher her forward. Camille had just closed the door to their room when a large hand wrapped around her neck and jerked her backward. A startled cry almost escaped her but she kept it suppressed by biting on her bottom lip. If she cried out now Camille would come out of their room to try and help her and she couldn't allow that to happen. She was stronger than Camille was; she could withstand this better than her sister ever could.

"Where's my money?" Felix growled at her.

Genny fumbled to free the purse she had tucked inside of her tunic. He snatched it from her hands but she knew it wouldn't be enough to stop what was coming; it never was when he was in this kind of a state. Genny bit her tongue and closed her eyes as the first of his many blows rained down upon her.

***

The sun had faded from the sky when Camille opened the door to their bedroom and poked her head out. Genny didn't bother to lift her head to look at her, she could barely move it as it was. "Is he gone?" Camille asked in a squeaky voice.

"He is," Genny confirmed.

"Did he hurt you badly?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Genny told her and tried to force a smile but her split lip wouldn't allow it to happen.

"You should have let me stay, I could have helped…"

"He would have hurt you more than me. I can handle it," Genny assured her.

Though the main reason she tried to keep her sister from Felix was because she hated the way that he watched Camille. Genny recognized the lustful look in his eyes from the way that men had looked at Marie over the years. She could withstand a beating, but what Felix wanted to do to Camille was something that her sister would never recover from.

"Where is Marie?" Camille asked nervously.

"Who knows and who cares," Genny muttered as she rose to her feet. She winced as one of her cracked ribs grated against her flesh and her bruised legs protested the effort to hold her upright. She would feel better once she'd fed and by tomorrow most of the bruises would be gone and her ribs would be healed.

"I don't understand why he does this," Camille muttered.

"Because he can!" she spat. "Because Marie allows it so that she doesn't have to deal with it."

"I know we can't count on her but maybe Marie will find a good man again before we're ready to leave for France. Maybe we'll be able to escape this place," Camille said hopefully.

Genny grit her teeth and fisted her hands at her sister's words. "All she has to rely on is men, and in case you haven't realized it yet, all men leave."

She forced the image of green eyes out of her mind as her own eyes burned with unreasonable tears. She hadn't cried from the beating Felix had laid upon her. She'd grown so accustomed to his assaults over the past six months, that she handled it with far more ease than the first time he'd come at her. In the beginning, it was their mother who had been the focus of his attacks. Once Marie had realized that there was no rhyme or reason to when the beatings would occur, she'd stopped showing up before the middle of the night. Marie would creep in late tonight and crawl into bed beside the man who had turned to using his fists on her daughter in her absence.

Genny had decided to attempt coming home late with Camille one night too, in order to try and avoid a possible rampage. Felix had been passed out in a drunken stupor when they'd snuck in and crawled onto their small straw pallet. It had been the last time she'd ever tried to avoid him as she'd been ripped out of bed the next morning by her hair and beaten to within an inch of her life while Marie looked on impassively. After that day Genny had always come back before Felix became too drunk, she had no other choice. There was nowhere else for her to go, not while Camille was still so young and vulnerable.

Her sister's beauty was considered by many to be a blessing; Genny sometimes considered it a curse. If she hadn't been so beautiful, Genny would have taken Camille and left this place after the first beating. But there was no way she would be able to get Camille out of here, and keep her safe, while Camille was still so young and her abilities were still so underdeveloped. Even after Camille stopped aging they would still be vulnerable when they left this place, but nowhere near as much as they would be if they left now.

The day that Camille stopped aging would be the last day they ever saw this hut, the hideous man that lived here, or their pathetic excuse of a mother.

Genny continued to move sluggishly around the house as she attempted to work out the knots in her muscles. Her body was already beginning to repair itself but she had to feed. "Camille…"

"I'll get you something," her sister offered as she bounced to her feet. She tugged on her cloak, pulled the hood up and tucked her hair underneath it.

"Stay close," Genny told her but the door was already closing behind her.

Genny limped toward the door and pulled it open. Camille had already disappeared into the encroaching shadows of the night. A few fires burned in the night, the huts closest to them were dark, but then they usually were as their neighbors often went to the club at night. She savored in the fresh air as the breeze caressed her bruised and swollen face.

Turning away, she left the door open to let some of the stale ale scent out of the hut. She hobbled over to the small room she shared with Camille. It was barely big enough to hold the two of them lying down together on their straw pallet, and their two trunks, but at least they had a room separate from Felix and Marie.

Opening her small trunk that was shoved against the wall, she carefully pulled out the clothing tucked neatly inside. Over the years Marie had taken many lovers, some of them had been better off than others. From time to time those men had bought her and her sister some finer pieces of clothing. Most of those clothes were years old now, but Genny took good care of them in order to ensure they would last as long as possible. There was no extra money to spend on clothes.

At the bottom of the trunk was a fake bottom she had created years ago. She removed the bottom and set it aside before taking out the parchment she kept hidden beneath. Then she gathered her quill and a small bottle of ink also hidden beneath the secret bottom. The parchment was the one thing she allowed herself the extravagance of purchasing, but writing was the only escape she'd ever had from the world. The ink she made on her own by collecting and crushing the berries from the woods.

With a moan she rose to her feet, closed the lid on the chest and settled herself in front of it. The only other vampire that knew about what she kept in the trunk was Camille, and her sister would take the secret to the grave with her.

Her mother had gone through more men then Genny had gone through blood over the years, but when she was twelve there had been one that had taken a special interest in her. He'd been a scribe for an aristocrat in China before traveling to England with the nobleman and encountering her mother. Genny would watch in astonishment while he spent hours bent over his desk going about his duties.

She'd never known what it was that he'd seen in her to make him decide to take her under his wing. Maybe it was her silent presence in the room, or maybe he had simply felt sorry for her, but no matter what his motivation he'd decided to teach her how to read and write. She'd spent hours with him going over the documents and putting the quill to paper. In those numerous hours she'd come to understand what had driven him to become a scribe. There was magic within the words that could unfold on a page, and in those words she knew she had found something all her own, something that made her special.

With meticulous care, she placed the fake bottom on her knees to use as her writing table. She placed the parchment on top of it, dipped her quill into the ink and began to write. Writing about her days was the only thing that made them any better and it helped to keep her sane. There was so much uncertainty in her life that the outlet she found in writing was the only constant she had. Her words were the only things that were solely hers.

Though she started out to write about the events of this day, after placing the date in the top corner, she found herself only writing about the events that had taken place within the forest. Sitting back, she stared down at the parchment for a minute. She felt there was something more that she should say, but she didn't know what that could possibly be. She waved her hand over the drying ink before lifting the lid of her trunk. She hid the inkwell and quill back inside before rising to her feet.