Rosalind - Beauty and the Beast meets Dracula retelling

47- Through the Cracks on the Wall

It was the canyons between the seconds of being away from Troy that made Rosalind yearn for affection. What they shared had been exquisite. In the mad, frightening house, she had never expected to find any sort of tenderness. And there it had been, a few doors down. 

When she stood by her window and watched the rolling grayness of the day, Rosalind hoped Troy would be standing underneath in the snow. Clouds clumped close, shielding the manor from whatever splinters of sun dared shine through. The snowfall was faint. Footprints marked the yard outside, both human and non, yet there was no one there. 

She felt as though she had just woken up from an odd, yet beautiful dream. Thoughts of Troy thrusting in her hand made her breath hitch. Rosalind squeezed her eyes shut and smiled. The phantom sounds which had escaped Troy's lips were a serenade in an otherwise ghastly melody she had been enduring for the past three weeks. When she opened her eyes, a white wolf was standing under her window. Its dark gaze cast up to meet her.

"Troy." She kept her voice low as if uttering a prayer. If anyone was to know their secret, they both would be in danger. Lifting a hand, she touched it to the window and felt the glass suck up every bit of warmth. The exchange between her and the wolf was brief, yet she felt her insides turn into pudding. She leaned closer, her breath fogging up the glass.

It was but a second when their eyes met before the wolf dashed away. With a pained groan, Rosalind pulled back. Her hands reaching for the curtains as she pulled them towards her. "No," she called to the wolf, "do not go..."

The condensation her breath left on the glass caught her attention. When she looked carefully, she saw Caspian's name written in the space between the fog.

Rosalind dropped the thick curtains. Her hands flew to her face. She did not want this reminder. How many times had she thought of the beast? He is not a man. Troy is a man. Caspian is a beast. Brass and violent. She began to shake, a tidal wave of emotions crashed over her. Her body was static, quivering, electric. Lowering herself on the chair, Rosalind struggled to breathe. Her hands flew to her throat. Her mouth was wide like a fish out of water as she desperately tried to suck in as much oxygen as possible. The room swayed and grew darker.

Out of the cracks on the wall, the shadow-woman appeared. The crown on her head and the long hem of her phantom-gown cast shadows on the floor.

Stop! Rosalind internally screamed when she saw the phantom.

But the shadow would have none of that. She blanketed out the faint light coming from the window as she floated closer.

Rosalind tried to push her away. "Leave me alone!" As her voice tore into every stone in the manor, the phantom reached for her.

Ashen hands cupped Rosalind's face and made her look into a pair of ghostly eyes. "Yooou loooove hiiiim." Every syllable was drawn out into a slow, excruciating hiss.

"You know not what I want," Rosalind cried. When she tried to shove the shadow away, her hands filled with mist and soot.

"I doooo..." The apparition moved above her, swaying as if in a dance. "Saaaay iiit." Moving closer again, the figure brushed her hand along Rosalind's face; forehead, eyes, nose, lips and chin.

"I will do no such thing!" Grabbing the poker from the hearth, Rosalind raised it and started swiping at the phantom. The shadow-woman inched away, moving further towards the wall as Rosalind kept attacking it.

"It is not lust that will destroy you but love." The shadow's voice said clearly. "You can wish me away but you cannot wish away that damned ache you carry for him in your core, can you?"

Before Rosalind got another swipe, the shadow slithered through the cracks on the wall and was gone.

The poker thudded loudly against the stone floor when it was dropped. Rosalind felt bile rise in her throat. The phantom's words rang like a thousand bells, "Saaaay iiit." She did not want to say anything, at least not the truth. "I will not," Rosalind hissed as she hurried out of her room and went to find Troy.

Hoping the young lord had returned to his chamber, Rosalind slipped in unseen. But there was no sign of wolf or man. Nothing but solitude when she looked around. There were no lit candles warming the room with their glow. No violin music wafting through the air to tug at her heart. The small hand-towel she had used after washing Troy's come off her hands mocked her from a corner of the basin.

Although, what lingered in the air was the faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla, when she lowered herself on Troy's bed and buried her face into the fur covers, all Rosalind could smell was him. An aroma of musk and warm skin. Troy's unique scent had his mark all over it and it made Rosalind wince.

Perhaps it is for the best, she sadly thought. Were you to find him here waiting for you with open arms, what would you do? Would you pleasure him again? Would you stop at just that? She sat up and straightened her skirt around her legs. Is he merely a distraction?

The shadow-woman's words scraped though her brain. "Yooou loooove hiiiim."

The desire to run out of Troy's room came to Rosalind like a slap, so fast that it shocked her. She rose, nearly tripping over her feet and ran to the door. 

"Yooou loooove hiiiim." The voice mocked. 

Rosalind gripped the handle. She touched her forehead to the wood before opening the door. "God damn you," she said through clenched teeth before exiting and heading back to her own room.