Stolen: Dante’s Vow by Natasha Knight
Mara
Ipretend to be asleep when my grandmother brings up a tray of food hours later. I can’t sleep though. I’ve been trying but it won’t come. There were nights Petrov used a drug that knocked me out completely rather than leaving me conscious but paralyzed. Sometimes I’d wake up in a different place not even sure how many days had passed. In a strange way, I miss that oblivion now.
It’s fully dark but for the moon. I look up at the ceiling, see how the moonlight reflects on the colorful glass of the Venetian lamp hanging there. The house is quiet. I heard Noah go to bed a few hours ago. And when Dante came to check on me, I didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.
My heart hurts when I think about him. The feelings I have are strange, confused. I’ve never before felt what I’m feeling with him. Never wanted or needed to be so close to someone. Never felt the need for touch. The opposite, actually. I repelled it. Over the years my mind trained itself to shut down. To drift away. Be anywhere but there when it was happening.
Thinking about it now makes my throat close up. How did I survive all those years?
I learned about Petrov when I was eleven years old. It could have been years before that that he’d made the deal. That he’d bought me. Well, Elizabeth. He’d thought he’d bought Elizabeth. He’d required a certain education of me. I was never to speak Italian again. Never to speak Spanish either although I did learn that. I lived in Mexico too long not to. In a way I guess I should have been grateful to him. It was because of him that I wasn’t sold earlier. Wasn’t used up even if I was used. They were careful not to get caught. Not to take my virginity which Petrov paid for. But there are other things, other ways, and no one will ever know just how used up you are.
And I learned to disappear in those years. I sang Flora’s song in my mind and floated away. Flora was one of the women who was kind to me. She was a cook and a part of my life for several years. I’ll never forget her.
It didn’t always work but it was the best I had. And now, with Dante, everything is different. I think I love him. No, I don’t think it. I know it. From before, from when I was little. He was always different to me. Special. I didn’t understand it then but now that he’s back in my life, now that we’re older, I get it.
Dante and I are destined to be together. Like our souls are linked. We belong together.
And no matter what he says, he feels it too, I know it. But it still hurts.
Frustrated, I push the blankets off. I won’t be able to sleep. Not here, in this room. In this house. There are too many ghosts. Strange how I can forget my grandmother but that night? The night those men came into this house and massacred the Grigori family? That I still feel deep inside. And it’s not just memories of Lizzie, of the moment of her death. Of how she died. It’s more. It’s like all their pain, their screams, their terror, it’s been swallowed up inside me, like it’s alive inside me. A part of me.
And I need to get away from it. From here. Because everything is so much louder here.
I slip my arms into the sweater I’d found in one of the drawers. I’m wearing a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants and a tank top. I go to the window, open it. A cool breeze blows in, and I hug my arms around myself. But it feels good to breathe in the fresh air. This house is stifling. Suffocating.
On the desk I see a stack of pretty, flowery paper. I pick up the pen lying on top and write a note. Because I don’t want my grandmother to hurt any more than she has. Any more than I’ve hurt her, even today, when I couldn’t be who she wanted. Who she expected. I don’t want to hurt any of them.
I write three words. That’s all. Because there’s nothing to explain.
I am sorry.
And I am.
I open the bedroom door and half-expect half-hope Dante to be sitting outside keeping vigil. My guardian angel. But he’s not there. No one is. I don’t let myself feel the disappointment that creeps up at the realization.
Sconces cast a soft light along the corridor. The house looks different than it used to although that could be my memory. I make my way quietly down the hall. If there’s one thing I’m good at it’s being quiet. Weightless. Soundless. Like a ghost myself.
I don’t let myself even glance at Lizzie’s room a little farther down the hall. I can’t. But when I get to Dante’s door, I stop. Because maybe I knew all along how this would go.
I stand there for a long minute. I think if I concentrate hard enough, I can smell his aftershave. I know it’s just my imagination though. I put my hand against his door, then lay my forehead on the cool wood. And it takes effort to keep quiet.
But exhaustion helps and I am exhausted. Exhausted of these unending, constant tears.
He will be sad, I think. Will he think I betrayed him? After he saved my life. After he risked so much and lost one of his men.
But I can’t do that. Can’t go there. My life is forfeit and I think some part of him knows that as well as I do.
I steel my spine, swallow down the tears, and turn away from his door. I go down the stairs without making a sound. So strange, after all these years, the house smells the same. Stranger still that I remember that detail when I’ve forgotten so much.
Downstairs is as dark as upstairs. No guards inside. But I see two smoking outside of the front door, so I head toward the kitchen. I remember the layout. Even some of the paintings are familiar, the one of Lizzie’s mom the most prominent. I pause in front of her. I remember that she was kind. Remember how we always thought she was a magical princess become a queen. She was so beautiful. Lizzie would have been as beautiful if she’d lived.
I turn and continue to the kitchen. It’s dark too and I’m only surprised when, before I get to the door to exit the house, I hear a small whine. I turn to find Cerberus, the hulking German Shephard, in his bed in the corner.
He lopes toward me, tail wagging even though his steps are slow. I woke him.
“Hi,” I say, crouching to pet him. He licks my face, lays his head in the crook of my neck and I find myself laying mine on his. “You’re so sweet,” I tell him, and am reluctant to stand, feeling a chill when I look down at him staring up at me with those huge brown eyes. It’s almost like they know.
I turn and walk to the door. When I hear a single bark behind me, I don’t look back. I just step out into the breezy night and only when my feet touch the cool rocks do I realize I never put on shoes.
But it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does.
In a way, I feel at peace. More at peace than I ever have. I let my feet carry me up toward the cliffs to the one place Dante tried hard to avoid earlier.
The Mausoleum. And then beyond.