Vampiric: Chapter Four, Part 3

“You’re okay,” a soft voice whispered to me. So far, it was the only voice that managed to penetrate the darkness. “Relax; you’re safe.”

My mind tried to hold onto the voice, to keep its comforting words close. The blackness didn’t harm me, but I was terrified of it because it blocked everything else out. All I wanted was to be free of it again. And it seemed everyone but this voice was insistent on keeping me from that.

“Breathe; that’s right. Calm, relax—listen to my voice.” The longer it spoke, the more I began to realize someone was brushing hair off of my face and the air around me was cool on my surprisingly warm skin. A bright light was shining through my eyelids, and the voice became distinctively feminine—motherly, to be more accurate.

“You’re safe,” she cooed again, combing her fingers through my hair.

When my eyes opened, the first thing they saw was her face. She had faded cerulean eyes and dark blond hair mingled with strands of gray. She had a long, somewhat round face, very motherly in appearance, especially with the naturally full pink lips.

Past her visage, I could see the room. This one had white walls, one high, narrow window with a grid of bars over it, and a menacing metal door in the corner. There was what I guessed to be a toilet in one corner and a padded area in another. The air in the room was stifling. It took me a moment to realize the woman had been removing the warmth from the air and circulating a cool breeze around me. Her power might have explained how she had penetrated the darkness.

“Don’t exert yourself,” she said.

“Where am I?” I asked, sitting up, hoping that was the end of the blackness.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, avoiding the question. “I’ve seen so many earth and water elementals. But never any air elementals; I’ve been so lonely. I’m afraid I may not be the best conversation. It’s been so long; I thought I was going crazy. One of the night guards was nice and stopped to talk with me some times. He saved me from losing it; otherwise they would have put you alone and then you would have ended up like me—”

“Where am I?” I interrupted.

She stared at me, as though it was the stupidest question in the world. How I loathed that expression.

“Sweetie, you’re in a secret government facility,” she said when I didn’t withdraw my question. It sounded absolutely ridiculous, like the sort of thing you’d dare someone to say without cracking a smile. For some reason, it sounded more so because it came from her. “You really didn’t know? I thought you would have known that. Were you somewhere else first; usually they just bring you right here.”

“I was in a black room the last time I woke up,” I said, hoping she might be able to explain where that had been though I doubted it.

“Oh. Then they didn’t know at first.” She thought about this for a moment before continuing on very hurriedly, wearing a bit of a crazed smile on her lips, “Well, you’re here now, anyway. With me. Sorry you didn’t have better luck, but there aren’t many air elementals; and since you’re with me that must be what you are—but, yes, you’ve been abducted by our very own government, sworn to protect and treat all justly and blah blah blah—so much for that. We’ll be here until we die…or they kill us.” The smile disappeared from her lips fleetingly at her last words.

“You’re wrong. Someone is coming for me. When he gets here, you can come with us,” I said before I could stop myself. I wasn’t sure I would want to bring her with, but if I didn’t at least offer, I knew I’d feel guilty for it later.

“Sweetie,” she said again; her voice softened and her head shook almost pityingly. “No one is coming. No one even knows we’re alive—otherwise he would have come for me years ago. I think about him a lot, you know,” she changed the subject suddenly, her face lighting up. “He was married, but we loved each other more than anything in the world. My baby was by him—I don’t know where my baby is—”

“You’re wrong,” I said again, not wanting to believe her or think about how I might end up like her before he arrived. “He’s coming for me; he promised.”

“He’s not coming. Just like he didn’t come for me. Why would he come for you?”

“Not your ‘he’. Mine. And because he loves me.”

“Not coming,” she singsonged evilly, breaking into giggles as though it were humorous.

“You’re wrong,” I seethed, tired of her insanity and doubtfulness—she hadn’t seemed like that at first, giving me hope it wasn’t so bad. I hadn’t been there more than a few minutes and already we were on the wrong foot. Besides, even if her hope was gone, why couldn’t she let me have mine?