Corben's Thirst: The Thirst Within Part 1.5 (8 page)

As I backed further away, her cries—
his
cries—became louder and louder. And I heard movement in the house below: Gulya, her steps hurried, moving in one direction and then changing course a few seconds later, as if looking for something. Of course. Looking for the baby whose cries she could hear.

I hastily cleaned him and covered him with his blanket. Then I moved to the trapdoor and pushed the chest aside, expecting it to be heavy—it
looked
heavy—but the chest almost flew away with the force of my heave. My strength surprised me, but I ignored it for the moment and raised the trapdoor. Next to it was the ladder, which Charlotte must have stashed there to keep anyone from entering the attic.

“Gulya!” I called below.

“Master…? Master!” Her voice sounded full of surprise and relief. She must have thought I was dead.

“I am in the attic… please come here.”

I lowered the ladder for her. While she reached me, I looked around and saw Thierry’s body. And I knew I had to bury him before I accomplished my ultimate objective; I couldn’t just leave him there, in the attic of my house. Even if I couldn’t lay Charlotte to rest, I would do right by Thierry.

I fetched the sheet that Charlotte had wrapped around him and I covered him the same way she had. Before I laid the sheet over his face I kissed his forehead. Sadness engulfed me, and I realized that I could feel again. But the emotion that had begun to creep in was a deep sorrow mixed with guilt, and I knew it would paralyze me again, so I focused on the task at hand. I finished covering him, and then went to help Gulya climb the steep ladder.

“The baby is alive. You are alive,” she cried when she reached the top. Her voice broke at the end. This moved me more than I would have expected it to. I put my arms around her frail form and gave her a brief hug. As I leaned into her, I was pleasantly attracted by her warmth, briefly; then my thirst spiked and I was distracted by the smell of her blood—the rush of blood caused by her effort to climb the ladder; how her veins pulsed underneath her delicate skin. And I vividly remembered how Charlotte had slashed Madeleine’s neck two years before.

I wanted to rip open Gulya’s neck
.

I was shaken by the thought and pulled away hastily. I forced myself to ignore the notion; I would not have to deal with it for much longer. Then I looked into her eyes, which were brimming with moisture, and it brought me back to the present. I bent over the basket where the baby was fussing. I picked him up carefully and bounced him up and down. At last he was getting the attention he craved, and had temporarily stopped crying.

“Yes. I am alive,” I said to Gulya while I rocked him, “and so is the baby. But my brother is not.” I pointed to Thierry’s body not far from where we stood. “Nor is the mistress.”

Then she fully burst into tears. “Aye, Master… we have her… her remains, downstairs.”

“You do?” The way she said
her remains
made me recoil with pain. And again the sadness threatened to consume me.

“Aye. We saw but we could do nothing. After they left, we brought the mistress inside….” She paused as a sob shook her body. “I thought you were all lost. We… we called for your father. We knew not what to do! No one knew you were here… with Alexandra.”

“The mistress brought us up here to hide us,” I explained, feeling deeply Charlotte’s great effort again. “And my father? Did he come?”

“Aye, Master, he did. He will be heading a search tomorrow with first light; for you, the baby and Master Thierry. He will be so happy to know that you are alive.”

“Thank you, Gulya, for your assistance. But again I need your help. Look.”

I brought the baby closer to her and removed his blanket. She gasped as she saw boy parts in the baby we all thought was a girl. She was as surprised as I had been.

“The mistress, bless her soul, she never let me clean her, Master. Him.” She looked up at me, and then at the baby with pity. “Poor baby boy! We have been calling him a girl’s name all his life! Why?”

“I cannot imagine why,” I lied. I certainly could imagine a reason.

“Well, what would you call him now, then?”

I had not even thought about that part. I supposed I should rename him before I handed him over to the baron. And right then, the thought of leaving him with Charlotte’s family bothered me a little. But I focused on Gulya’s question.
What to call him
? The obvious variation,
Alexander
, felt wrong. Everything about it felt wrong. Whatever her motives were, Charlotte had been in denial about this poor infant. Yes, she had lost a daughter. But that did not make it acceptable to do this to our son.
My son
.

Something snapped inside me.

A girl would grow up strong like her mother wanted. She would fit in the De Mayes household. She wouldn’t need me. But this son, unwanted, forced to become a girl without his consent…
that
felt wrong. It made me want to protect him. He would never know of Charlotte’s intentions. I would have him grow up happy, away from all this pain. Everywhere I looked was death, but I would make sure there would be none for this little boy. He had stopped crying and was now looking at me, his eyes moist but forgiving. I hadn’t noticed their color had changed since he was born; they had brightened from a dark blue to a lighter blue, almost gray.

Gulya looked at me expectantly, still waiting for an answer to her question. I had none, so I looked around the room. My eyes fell on the quiet form of my brother. The man who gave his life for me. Then the name came to me, and I would’ve smiled, but I couldn’t.

“Thierry. We will call him Thierry.”

The End

My son, Thierry, was my salvation.

The emptiness left by Charlotte’s death was unbearable at first. I was able to hold her remains for some time, alone in our house; then I put her in a coffin and nailed it shut, along with half of me. We buried her and my brother the next day; there wasn’t a service for them and no grand family affair. My father had not yet recovered from my mother’s funeral and had no strength to bury his firstborn.

Once Charlotte was in the ground I lost whatever remaining will I had to live. Even after I had vowed I would remain alive to protect my son I still found it hard to carry on. I didn’t feed; I didn’t sleep. I
tried
to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes I saw her die. Not just a flash—my new vampire brain could play back every detail of her death. And it
would
play, unbidden, and for some time I couldn’t control it. Because her death was one of my very first perfect memories as a vampire.

I had that constant reminder that she was gone, that she would never again be with me, yet I could feel her at every waking moment. Her blood, her essence, coursing through my veins. Days after she had turned me the feeling wasn’t dissipating. And I knew then she was irrevocably
in
me—that she would be in me until I died.

But I couldn’t die, not while I had Thierry to take care of. He compelled me to remain alive, to hold on, in the darkness that had become my world. The longer I held him, the stronger my attachment to him became. And what could be stronger that a father’s love?

My longing for Charlotte.

Living without her wasn’t living. Being tethered to this confusing existence was driving me crazy. I wanted to be there for the son I loved, the son that needed me, but my pain was too raw. Her presence called out to me, asking me to join her. It was simply too strong, the pull, when I lay in bed alone at night, unable to sleep, with no baby Thierry to distract me. I almost caved.

Until three days after she turned me.

I finally succumbed to sleep, out of exhaustion. And then I saw her again.

I dreamed of her.

“
Eternally yours
,” she had said. I’m sure she didn’t mean it
that
way. But she had been right. When I dreamed of her it felt so real, like I was with her. I felt her love and I bathed in it. I relished in the feeling of her blood running through my veins. Again I was one with her. I started looking forward to seeing her in my dreams.

And in my waking hours I had Thierry.

Taking care of my son took my mind away from the pain during the day; at night I had her memories. This way, somehow, I survived.

I was only half alive, but I survived. For two centuries I lived this half existence.

Until I found her again.

And now she sits across from me.

Johi Jenkins grew up in the small town of Las Marias, Puerto Rico but now lives in Chicago, Illinois, with her husband, the writer K LeMaire, their squeaky newborn son and their feline daughter Ripley. Johi likes sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal romance books, video games and animals.

Other books by Johi:

The Thirst Within (
The Thirst Within
Book 1)

Resurgence (
Resurgence
Book 1)

Margarette (
Violet
Book 1)

Thank you for reading
The Thirst Within
Book 1.5. I hope you enjoyed it. Book 2 will be published next when I figure out this parenting thing. Visit my blog and Facebook page for sneak previews and announcements!

This book was self-published by me. A lot of effort was put into editing; however, grammatical and formatting errors may still exist in this edition. Feel free to send comments and/or edit suggestions directly to me. If you would, please take a moment to review this book in your review site of choice. I will always appreciate your feedback.

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