Struck (A Vampire Novel) ✔

Fifteen

I was on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. I blinked, raising my hand up to rub my eyes and trying to remember the images that had flooded my head. They all bled together so that none made sense. When I gave up on pinpointing at least one image, I looked around the large dark room I was in. The bed was huge, draped in dark sheets and comfortably soft. I almost wanted to lie back down and drift off to sleep. That would be if it didn't happen to be a stranger's bed.

I crawled to the end of the bed, grabbing the bedpost which I noticed had etchings all through it. When I looked around the room, I noticed a lot of the walls and furniture had etchings carved into them of all types of designs. Then I saw on top of the furniture were figurines. From the distance, I could tell they were carvings of little people, creatures, and objects. On the walls were some panels of wood which had carvings drawn through it of landscapes. It was very... artsy.

It was then that I noticed there was someone else in the room. On the opposite side of the room, he sat at a desk that had a semi-circle of small tools and untouched wood with an overhead lamp that wasn't turned on. I could see his hand holding a small curved knife as he sliced through light wood slowly. It reminded me of the scalpel he had picked from the weapons in the dungeons. Had he been planning on treating me as his own little project for carving before he found the marks on my back?

I shuddered just remembering it.

Jacobi looked up suddenly, his citrine brown eyes landing on my form on the end of what I knew now was probably his bed. The intensity of his stare caused me to cast my eyes away quickly, and now I was looking only at my hands. I moved my gaze from my hands to my arm, which was still painted with dry blood. But when I touched my upper arm I noted that the wound was gone. This meant all my wounds were healed. I wondered if Xander or Aveline were the ones who gave me their blood. Jacobi, I couldn't believe would.

I jumped when I heard the scrape of wood against the floor. When I looked up, Jacobi had pulled a chair to the end of the bed and was sitting down in front of me. He had something in his right hand that I couldn't see, and he lifted his other hand to reach for me. I immediately jerked back in fear.

"Let me see you," He ordered with impatience. "I'm not going to hurt you... yet."

It didn't sound promising. But still, I'd rather get it over with now than make it harder for myself in the long run. I crawled forward again to seat myself in front of him, and this time when he reached for me I didn't jerk away. His hand gripped the edge of my face lightly, but the touch was hot on my skin for some reason. I felt a blush burning into my face, which was embarrassing of itself because I had no idea why I was blushing and then I knew that he saw me blushing which was even more embarrassing.

Jacobi raised the object in his hand. I could see now it was just a small miniature flashlight. He beamed the small light into my left eye first and then the right. Then he moved my face to the side in order to examine the area where I knew Vincent had delivered that painful blow. Remembering the crack, I wondered how I didn't just die immediately.

"How do you feel? Any pain?" He asked almost professionally. I shook my head slightly.

While he examined for damage, I watched Jacobi's serious set face and tried to distinguish what he was thinking. I knew he didn't like me because I was Zachary Monet's daughter. He wanted to ultimately kill me, or at least torture me until near death and let Corentine finish me off. Perhaps he wanted to carve a bit of artwork out of my body first. When he looked at me, did his hatred start planning out each cut and yearn for every scream? Was he excited for the day when he could present the leftovers to his nemesis?

I had begun shaking in fear without realizing it. Jacobi let go of my face and leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest before staring at me intensely. I couldn't bring myself to be courageous enough to stare back, so I went back to looking at the walls around us.