Chapter 30: Despair

Desperation results when the impetus compelling action is forced.
Those that despair invite hopelessness and ultimately, lose. Hence, do not despair!

A Fool's Book of Wisdom

Christine sat bolt upright in Erik's bed gasping amidst a tangle of bed sheets and Erik's limbs, which sleepily attempted to hold her firmly against him.

"What is it? Did you have a bad dream? Come here, mon amour, and I shall chase away the darkness with a kiss."

His quiet words and gentle caresses softened the crease of the frown that marred her brow and she turned back to him, allowing a distracted smile to brush the corners of her lips. Her eyes raked appreciatively over the body of the man lying next to her. His hair mussed from their exertions, his eyes heavy with sleep and his body languid with satisfaction. She brushed the hair from his face and sighed, the frown returning.

"Erik, we need to get out of bed. Something is wrong and we need to go find out what it is. I feel it. It is something important." She nudged his shoulder with her own. "Come, Erik. We need to get up ... now."

The man sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair. He looked deeply into her eyes and saw the apprehension, which dwelt just beneath the surface. He drew back from her and allowed his eyes to run appraisingly over her naked form. After the months he spent training her body, he knew all of her quirks quite well. He frowned as he read the signs of tension in the tight set of her shoulder muscles and in the rigid line of her jaw. Her posture so rigid, she seemed almost to thrum like a knocked arrow on a drawn bowstring. He leapt from the bed and encircled her stiff form with his strong arms, drawing her into a comforting embrace. He nuzzled her neck until he felt her let go of some of the tautness from her body, then gave her a playful pat on her rear.

"I am up, chéri. Let us go and resolve this wrong quickly, so we may return to more important matters here." His lips curled briefly into a wide, lascivious grin before it faltered as he looked around the room and a slight frown creased his forehead. "Christine? Have you seen my mask?"

It felt like millions of tiny insects crawled over her body. She gasped and her inhalation of breath caused her to feel as if she swallowed a live, wriggling handful of the bugs. Her body writhed and clutching her stomach, she began to retch violently. Gradually, she became aware of a pair of gentle arms entwined protectively about her and a pair of hands that rubbed soothingly at her back. Her body wished for nothing more than to sink into the deceitful safety of sleep, but her mind would not allow her body to rest. Images of a man's swarthy complexion, of warm, brown eyes and of a full sensuous mouth brought her memories back and her mind snapped to the present. Coming fully to her senses, her eyes flew open. A pair of concerned eyes, a shade of the most brilliant green she ever saw, stared serenely at her and she gazed at them in shock.

"Who the fuck are you?" She growled fiercely. "And, where the hell am I?"

The eyes blinked and Helen felt more than heard the owner of the eyes sigh.

"My name is Kimberly and I believe, unfortunately, that you are correct. We are in hell."

Helen struggled for a moment to comprehend the soft words, but gave up as the voice continued.

"Or, at least, we are in the residence of one of its minions."

"What do you mean?" Helen whispered.

The face belonging to those stunning eyes pulled back and Helen at last found she could take in its whole. The woman who owned the emerald eyes had a pale oval of a face, framed by long, straight blonde hair. Her skin had an ethereal translucence, which appeared to glow like the moon. The only flaws to her beauty were the deep, dark hollows beneath her eyes and her cracked, dry lips. Helen watched as the pink tip of the woman's tongue darted from her mouth and ran over her chapped lips before she self-consciously realized Helen watched her. The woman cleared her throat and gently lay Helen down on cold, hard stone. Helen met Kimberly's eyes, but could not read the look held in them. The green eyes slid closed and she turned her head away from Helen. Her hand snaked up to her neck and pushed aside a strip of black cloth she had wrapped around her throat.

"Oh! Merde!" Helen gasped.

She struggled to sit; her hand darting out to trace just above the oozing edges of the ragged pair of puncture marks the woman bore just above her delicate collarbone.

"You realize what this is? Do you not?" Helen snarled.

The emerald orbs glittered with unshed tears as she turned back towards her new companion. Helen thought she caught a flash of searing anger in her eyes as Kimberly nodded her head slowly.

"Of course. I am no fool. I am just a woman with few options and very little time left before the infection takes me. I feel the power seducing me. A siren's song singing through my blood and I cannot escape its call by covering my ears for it courses within me. Oh! It promises such pleasures, but I know they are lies. And, yet..." Her head tilted back and a moan escaped her cracked lips.

With a strength that surprised both women, Helen grabbed Kimberly by the shoulders and shook her.

"Look at me! You will not give in to the poison in your veins. Do you hear me? Do not believe the demon blood that calls to you for it speaks only lies. To give in is to despair. Fight the despair! Rage against it! It only wishes for you to join with it in the hell of eternal bloodlust. I may not be the keeper of the rainbow any longer, but I am a fair healer. There is still hope. As long as she lives, there has to be hope."

Helen muttered her last words as if she spoke to herself and not Kimberly. For a moment, her eyes glazed unseeingly before snapping back into dagger-sharp focus and glaring at Kimberly. Helen's lips curled into a small, tight, twisted smile and her eyes narrowed in concentration. She studied the pale blonde intently and the smile fell from her lips as she watched an inky blackness consume the brilliant green irises. A frustrated snarl escaped Kimberly's lips and she thrust Helen away from her with a sudden, wild desperation, which sent Helen flying. Her hands scraped along the sharp edges of the rough stone blocks, which made up the floor before she landed hard on her backside. Distantly, Helen could feel how the small cuts on her hands stung, but discovered that she could think of nothing but the woman standing above her. The woman, who was neither short nor tall, seemed to grow in stature before Helen's ever-widening eyes. Her straight blonde locks danced about her pale face as if blown by an invisible wind and a halo of smoke descended about her to drape about her body like a funereal shroud. She tilted her head as she returned Helen's look. Her lip lifted in a parody of a smile, but Helen saw no mirth in Kimberly's eyes. Helen's heart fell as she realized the cause was a long, white feral-looking fang, which now protruded over the woman's bottom lip. Kimberly closed her bloodshot eyes and languidly sniffed the air.