Grasp of the Immortal

Kelantha's Diary

My night was full of idle wonderment, for the house held many charms in the darkness. Though I knew myself to be quite alone, my senses were heightened. Every quiet noise, every movement in that tired abode on the cliffs was known to me in the semblance of my dreams, for I found myself wandering endlessly their passages in the awakening of sobriety. The doors were all locked to me, and I had not the key. I felt as though I�d traversed their stone passages when at last the dawn came as a slender sliver of light against the far horizon, yet I had not moved in the night. My hand still lay on the pillow at my side, fingers gently curled in tendrils of long dark hair. I was quiet in the time that birds normally sing, but none penetrated the haze this morning. Indeed, there was not a sound in the garden surrounding us, or the violent mountains overhead, for all was silent in respect for our repose.

Morning came and still I did not stir, but instead turned on my side and slept until shadows began to creep into the castle and fall in elongated shapes across the floor. My thoughts in daylight were less evasive and my sleep was dreamless, unbroken by the soft noises which eventually came to me in the lateness of the hour. Some servant or my host had apparently come and gone, for there was a luncheon tray long cold on the side table and a note biding me to repose in the library (the third door upon the left) when I was rested, and he would join me there. I dined lightly, for my tastes were not extensive and normally quenched with very little effort, and made myself presentable as best I might without a mirror. There was not one upon any of the four walls, and mine had been cracked in its tumble from the carriage.

Turning up my gray collar at its highest to conceal the contours of my neck, I pinned my hair up, a few tendrils refusing to conform to angry fingers, and withdrew. I had marveled greatly at the castle by candlelight, but in the late afternoon it was magnificent. Arches and banisters, polished but well worn as if enduring centuries of occupants. It was completely still, like a graveyard in the early morning. My footsteps echoed hollowly along the passage. I came to the acknowledged door and drew it open. Patches of sunlight penetrated a heavy gloom through partially drawn curtains as rows upon rows of books met my eye, heartily bound and gold-embossed. I gave a little gasp of delight, for books are my singular and only passion, and failed to notice my host on the railing above. He was perched rather like an animal on a circular staircase, a volume clutched in his lithe fingers.

�Literature is a wondrous thing, is it not?� he inquired in the deep, reclusive voice I�d not yet come to know. I turned rapidly, startled, and my hand lifted involuntarily to my neck. It was not a movement I was accustomed to, but a nervous reaction to his presence. He began to descend, remaining in the shadows. �So much wisdom to impart, so little that is learned.� He handed me the book and I saw that it was a volume of Transylvanian history. I had just opened it to glance through the pages when he took it back again and replaced it on a shelf. �There is time enough for books,� he said. �Would you indulge me in the privilege of conducting a tour, Miss Cabrera? I�m afraid I cannot be entirely satisfied until you have seen its entirety�I did note your fascination of last evening.�

My eyes swept the library and I smiled. It must have been the first smile shared between us, for he looked pleased. His arm was graciously extended and I hesitated. �Forgive me, Count,� I said quiet meekly but with underlining meaning, �if I do not accept your arm. I am rather accustomed to walking alone, and it would be awkward for me.�

It was not that I feared his touch, but that I shied away from it. It was not a personal insult but  independence from men in general. I saw the offering of an arm as leading to other liberties and had never allowed any of my male companions at school the privilege. Once I had, and it cost me everything. That single brief exchange had left me heartbroken and angry, determined never to allow another to use me so shamefully. I prayed my host would not take it amiss, but his expression was unreadable as the arm dropped and with a slight bow he said, in his thickly pronounced accent, �Of course� if you would�?�

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