Blood Rebel [COMPLETED]

Chapter Eight - Destruction in Cadogan Place

Hector didn’t come back that night and in the morning Selene went to the theatre, where she let herself into an isolation unit. She couldn’t face seeing the girls; particularly Jackie. They would know, surely they would know, that she hadn’t slept with Hector. She could practically see the great flashing neon sign over her head: ‘VIRGIN’. And if she could see it, how could the others fail to?

She was ashamed. Although she hadn’t been outright rejected, that was how it felt. She didn’t want to see Hector either. The embarrassment was so acute that her cheeks flamed at the thought, and she pressed a cool palm to her cheek in an attempt to stop the throb.

Time passed unbearably slowly in the isolation unit. She had little to distract her from her thoughts; and her thoughts were torture. Every night she dreamt of Hector. The dreams weren’t necessarily sexual. Often he was just standing nearby, or turning the pages of her sheet music as she played the piano. But he was always there, so vivid, so real, that she could feel the heat of his body, smell his scent, and it appealed to her fiercely, even in her dreams. She often awoke crying or screaming, and would get up and throw her fists against the wall, calling his name and cursing him. But every time she woke in that tiny room she felt his absence all the more, and felt her loneliness acutely. 

Little did she know that someone was with her almost all the time, waiting outside, listening to her every sound and movement; pitying her and worrying about the impact Hector had had on her.

Late one afternoon she was disturbed by a loud banging on the door.

“What do you want?” 

“Time’s up. You’ve already been in there too long. I can smell you. I know you’re done.”

Disgusting.

It was Diana, and she was worked up. Selene hurried to open the door, and scurried out into the corridor, hoping to escape without further interrogation. 

“Hold on there,” said Diana, grabbing the neck of her t-shirt and hauling her back.  “Are you ready to dance? You’ve only got an hour until rehearsal.”

“I’m always ready.”

“Good. Take a shower. Get changed.” 

Selene nodded, and intended to leave, but she hesitated, unable to resist asking:

“Is Hector here?”

“I’m disappointed, Selene. I thought you would last at least until after the next Bleeding before you asked about him.”  Diana smirked, making Selene feel foolish. “He’s not here. He hasn’t been here for over a week.”

“Where is he?”

“How should I know?  But right now you have a job to do, so put him out of your mind and get on with it. Upstairs, quick.”

Selene scampered up the staircase, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Diana must know why she had asked. And just as she was sure she couldn’t feel any worse, Jackie appeared, leaning over the banister, looking down at her.

“Welcome back, Selene,” she said, smiling. Then she threw her head back and laughed. Selene hurried past her, forcing her shoulder into Jackie’s chest, wanting to hurt her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she continued down the corridor, but it was too soon: Jackie was following her.

“It’s pathetic you know,” she began, calling after Selene’s retreating figure.

“I’m not listening to you.”

“Don’t lie. I know you are. It’s pathetic that you think you’re in love with him, just because he’s the closest thing to a man that has ever touched you!” Selene stopped, and turned around.

“I’m not in love with him.” She spat the words, her hatred for Jackie outweighing anything she felt for Hector at that moment.

“Good. I should hope not. They’re animals, you know: all of them - no exceptions. They might look like men, but they aren’t. We can’t have you wasting your energy moping over a Vamp.”

“We?”

“All of us. We have to stick together.” Again she smiled and, despite her harsh words, her incessant mockery, Selene thought it looked genuine; almost caring, and it puzzled her.  

*

When the rehearsal was over Selene returned to the house on Cadogan Place. She let herself in the basement door, and as she began to unpack her bag she realised there was noise coming from above, and a lot of it. She crept up the stairs to find the upper house in manic disarray. 

The carpet had been ripped from the stairs, and it lay, rumpled, all the way down the staircase; all five floors of it. Some of the banisters were missing, as though they had been ripped away with great force, and others hung precariously by wooden threads. Some of the floor tiles were cracked, as though something very heavy had been thrown down on them from a great height. The familiar paintings were missing from the walls, and many of the ornaments and decorations were also absent. Some of the male servants were trying to hang new pictures, whilst others were on their hands and knees trying to put the carpet back in place.

“What’s going on?” 

“Where have you been?” Asked Mrs Landon, the old housekeeper. Her grey hair, normally so neatly tied in a bun on top of her head, was loose and straggly, falling about her wrinkled face. “We could have used an extra pair of hands. Hector ripped the place apart. He completely lost it. It was terrifying. He killed one of the gardeners.” 

Selene was stunned. She had never known him to be violent. Of course, she knew all Vampires were, but for some reason she had thought Hector an exception. 

“When?”  It was all she could think of to ask, and to her it seemed the most salient point.

“Last week. The day after the Bleeding; when he came back and you were gone. This is a lot better than it was. It was barely a house by the time he had finished.”

“Where is he?”

“We don’t know.”

“Did he say when he would be back?”

“No. I don’t think he’ll come back for a while. He bled that boy to death. There was nothing left but a sack of skin when he was done.” 

Selene knew she should have been horrified, but she wasn’t. But she did acknowledge that her delight in realising that this uncharacteristic episode of violence might have had something to do with her was foul, disgraceful and inhuman. Yet she couldn’t help it.  

Could I have caused his murderous rage? 

Perhaps Hector had suffered as she had suffered over the last week. Could he have been tormented by thoughts of her, as she had been of him? A flame of excitement sparked up within her, and she felt a desire for Hector flicker somewhere deep within her.

“Who was he?” She asked, realising that a reaction to the boy’s death was necessary at this point, however distracted she was by thoughts of Hector, and hope that he might return. 

“He was new. We don’t know much about him at all. He had only been here a couple of days, sent up from Bournemouth by a friend of Hector’s. He had good references, and Hector paid for him in full.”  She paused to scratch her forehead. “I think his name was James.” 

Mrs Landon bent over and picked up some pieces of debris that lay on floor.  Selene stared upwards, noticing that half the crystal chandelier was missing, the remaining half hanging from its fixing like a loose tooth.

He'll come back for me.  I know it.