Part 2 (1/2)

Her eyes drifted open, seeing a fireplace of stone. It burned brightly. She closed her eyes once more. Softness brushed along her skin, the water gone. She was on a bed--soft, enveloping. A sigh left her parted lips. Her eyes drifted again. This time she saw silk as red as blood and she s.h.i.+vered. A pale hand reached for her, lifting for her face as if its bearer lay next to her on the stuffed mattress. The weight of her damp hair was lifted from her cheek. The darkness closed in again.

”A presto, il mio tesoro,”the voice whispered to her. Tatiana felt a brush against her lips and tingling sensations shot in hot waves down her body. ”Very soon, my darling.”

Chapter Two.

”Bella mia....”

With a sharp gasp, Tatiana sat up in bed. A strange, ragged panting came from her throat. She looked around at the all too familiar surroundings of her bedroom. Her waist length hair sprung out from her head, curling naturally over her shoulders in a tangled mess. It fell over her face and she brushed it back in annoyance. She caught her reflection in a mirror. Her usually glowing features were pale and dark circles formed beneath her eyes.

Tatiana blinked, rapidly searching the morning shadows that stretched across the ornate wood paneling of the walls and small fireplace. The sun seemed abnormally bright as her gaze drew over the pale yellow decor, past the dark wood of her large armoire, wardrobe and matching washstand. Not an item was out of place. She was home, in her bed, alone.

Feeling a chill wash over her flesh, she moaned, pulling the thick coverlet close to her chest. Her ears buzzed until she felt she couldn't hear. Suddenly, it was as if hands pressed into her throat, crus.h.i.+ng her, tearing her with claws. She blinked, gasping in growing desperation, as the vague memories of a dream tried to surface--a bathtub filled with blood, a blue eye lifelessly staring at her, watching her.

”Miss Sinclair?”

Tatiana blinked to hear her name and let loose a high pitched sound of surprise. The sensations left as suddenly as they came.

She turned to look at her bedroom door, meeting the brown eyes of a maid. Blinking again, she was unable to place the woman's name in her mind. She stared vacantly at the woman, letting her gaze roll over the tidy uniform, the small white cap artfully placed on brown curls, the pristine white ap.r.o.n. All she could come up with was Alice.

”Oh, bless us! You're awake, miss!” the woman said, pressing her hands together in excitement.

”Where's Alice?” Tatiana breathed. Her voice was hoa.r.s.e and sounded gravelly, as if she'd screamed for hours. She reached for her head. It felt dizzy. ”Send me Alice. I want Alice.”

”I ... I,” the maid stuttered. The woman paled, all pleasure draining from her face. She looked down at her hands, which twisted in her ap.r.o.n. ”I can't, miss. Alice is gone.”

”Gone?” Tatiana suddenly felt ill. Again a swarm of memories tried to invade her thoughts, but she blinked them away. They were dark, evil thoughts--images of blood and fangs, of death. Her voice brutal in its rough tonality, she said, ”Gone where?

She didn't tell me she was leaving.”

”We were hoping you could say, miss.” The maid took a step forward and then stopped. She reached for a bowl on the washstand and held it out. ”Are you to be sick, miss?”

Tatiana waved away her concern and threw the covers from her body. Her limbs felt strange, almost like silk.

'La tua pelle e' come seta, bella mia.'Tatiana flinched, hearing the words clearly in her head. She glared at the maid. A little harshly, she demanded, ”What? What did you say to me?”

”I asked if you were to be sick, miss.” The woman's expression paled and she seemed almost frightened by the heated look she received in return. ”Shall I--?”

”After that,” Tatiana demanded. She tried to stand but her legs wobbled. The woman motioned helplessly to the side, as if she would turn to get help. ”You said my skin was like silk.”

”No, miss,” the woman returned. ”I did not.”

”Then, who?” Tatiana asked, looking around the room as if someone else was there. The words had been so real. She felt as if someone was inside her brain.

”No one, miss,” the maid said weakly, inching toward the door. ”No one spoke of silk.”

”Where's Alice?” Tatiana didn't know why, but she was desperate to have her servant come to her. Alice always woke her in the morning, doing it just right--softly touching her shoulder, speaking gently, then teasing her when she refused to move. The brown haired maid merely stared at her, motionless, helpless. Her voice rising, she cried out, ”Send me Alice!”

The maid blinked and Tatiana knew she was stunned to hear the usually mild spoken woman yell at her. She bobbed a half- curtsey, tripping over her feet to get out of the bedroom. Tatiana breathed deeply, struggling for breath. She didn't know what was wrong with her or why she was so panicked. She felt numb, scared. Her limbs shook violently. Her fingers twitched and flexed, just beyond feeling.

'Hush, hush, bella mia.'