Ravens Deep (one) (25 page)

             
Whether I was truly under some enchantment, or a spell of my own making, I could never be certain. The only thing I was sure of was my love for him and besides that I refused to let anything else concern me. Darius kept much of the horror from me, protecting me from his underworld existence of perpetual shadow.  I never witnessed anything or anyone being killed, when it happened it was far from my eyes or ears.  It was like it happened in a dream, a horrific dream, but one that didn’t’t interfere in my world too much. 

             
We spent the hours of darkness together, and I remained bewitched and entranced living my life only for him.  Darius always had mesmerized me, but now it was even more so and I learned what a truly intoxicating being he was.  He told me elaborate stories of his travels, detailed accounts of how he had searched out ancient libraries and church records, in search of some fact that would reveal how his existence was possible.  Apart from the scribbling of ancient monks on yellowed parchments and the strange writing in the Grimoire, he never turned up any other evidence to support the theory that there were many others like himself.  Darius believed when they existed, they would have been exposed, hunted down and fallen by the wayside over the centuries. Decades ago he had been disheartened by his endless searching across Europe for a reason or an answer, and no closer to finding one, he had returned to England and to his beloved

Ravens Deep.

              Back in England he had studied various writings, supposedly true stories and actual accounts of encounters with the un-dead.  But all turned out to be folklore and superstitious legends that had been handed down from stories of old. With amusement in his voice he had related most were absurd, crucifixes, water, silver or garlic could not harm him, for as long as his flesh remained it could be repaired. Only fire and sunlight, which to him were the same, could destroy him completely. 

             
Darius had endured decades and with those long years had come the education and refinement of what his life was today.  I believed there was not a subject in existence that he did not have some knowledge of, and listening to him was better than reading any history book.  His sultry tone and descriptive storytelling made the images vividly come to life in my mind. Being well read and versed in many cultures of the world, both ancient and civilized, he would relate great love stories from ancient Persia, or the mysterious stories of curses and buried treasure from Egypt.  He told me stories of his childhood, his life as a mortal and whilst doing so he would stroke my hair or caress my skin, knowing only too well of the effect it would have upon me.  I could never resist him, he was my addiction.

             
He encouraged me to write again and with his guidance, I learned to write with a deeper feeling.  He attempted to teach me to speak French and Italian, in which he was fluent, although I knew I exasperated him on several occasions. Unlike him, I did not have a natural aptitude for languages and I could never master his level of perfection, but it was good to see him smile in amusement at my disastrous efforts.

             
Darius had so much knowledge and I felt that I didn’t’t know anything compared to him, but in time he very slowly educated me in the history of various cultures, the use of natural medicines and herbs and how to make and administer poisons.  Something he had learned from his mother, he said.  She was a healer, but when he had shown me how to brew dangerous concoctions and related how they would induce sleep or death, information he said could be useful to me, I felt more like I was dabbling in witchcraft.  I wondered if she had been a witch, but I did not mention that thought to Darius.

             
He was a good, competent teacher; we would spend hours in the library together

po
uring over a book or researching some fact.  Occasionally he would bring me an intriguing artefact out of the depths of the museum and he would tell me its fascinating history and from where it had originated.

             
Darius would still leave me every two weeks or so for the city, but then he would delight me on his return by bringing me a rare book or some ancient trinket, along with a detailed story of love or corruption that went with each object. He lavished his attention on me and most of the time I felt completely safe, not only from him, but from the world in its entirety.  Yet there were times when I witnessed his inner conflict, the demon that he had to bring under control.  On these occasions he would leave abruptly and disappear into the night, returning only when his bloodlust had been quietened. Although I had been initially disturbed by these outbursts, in time I began to see this as just a minor inconvenience to our being together and as time passed it did not worry me so much.

             
I still had several hours to myself in the daylight and I delighted in the warm sunshine, the garden and the beauty of the countryside around me.  Slowly I brought the garden back to its former glory, pruning and weeding and giving much needed attention to the neglected plants.  I discovered the ancient herb bed, where Darius’s mother grew many of her herbs to make her strange potions and I planted new ones in memory of her. The garden was once again a beautiful place, well cared for and loved and the only legacy I could leave at Ravens Deep.

             
I still needed to venture out on my own, to the village and occasionally further afield.  Unlike Darius, I had to eat food and needed to participate in a normal life of sorts without him.  But my excursions became less frequent and whenever I left Ravens Deep Darius’s manner would change for the worse and an underlying coldness would emerge for a while. It was as if he wished to keep me far away from any other mortal, lest I decided to return to that world. His fears were unfounded, as nothing could have been further from my mind and I would constantly reassure him of that fact.               

             
After many months together he found a kind of peace with his inner conflict, and I too was at peace myself. I had known that we could live this way and even Darius came to believe that it was possible for immortal and mortal to exist together in relative harmony.  I fulfilled a deep need that he had longed for in his life.  I gave him a reason to exist and in return Darius’s significance in my world could not be overstated, he had become as fundamental to my life as the very air I breathed.

Chapter Twenty One - A Marriage Vow

             
It was early evening, the sun had set an hour ago and I was sitting on the kitchen floor wiping up tea that had been knocked from the table top.  The china cup lay on its side with its contents still dripping down the table leg, the ghost was agitated once more. 

             
To my relief, I had learned that all the terrible things that had taken place at Ravens Deep had happened in the part of the house that no longer existed.  The bedroom where I slept wasn’t the master bedroom as I had first believed.  It had been Isobelle’s room -- Darius’s sister.  According to Darius nothing untoward had ever taken place in there.  I knew now that the only presence I had ever felt in that room had actually belonged to Darius.  I often thought about the opulence of that room, for I imagined Madeline’s bedroom must have been even more spectacular, and it was sad that half of Ravens Deep had been reduced to ashes, for I imagined in its former glory it must have been a truly magnificent house.

             
I often thought about Madeline and wondered what she was like.  The portrait that hung in my bedroom was a constant reminder that she had once inhabited this house. My resemblance to her was uncanny and I often puzzled as to why it was so strong since there were many generations between us, but I completely understood why Darius's attention had been drawn to me, it must have initially been a great shock for him to have seen me.

             
Caught up with my own thoughts I was barely aware that Darius had entered the kitchen.  I looked up at him startled, then on seeing his puzzled look I merely said: 

             
“The ghost.”  Darius’s look changed into one of amusement.

             
“You still believe this house has a ghost?”  he asked half smiling.  I stood up, meeting his gaze with my own.  My voice was thoughtful when I answered his question.

             
“I know it does. It’s not apparent when you are here, but when I am alone it moves things around, opens and shuts doors and creates havoc,” I said gesturing to the mess I had just cleaned up. “Especially in here and in the pantry and the mice are not strong enough to carry the china.”  I remarked cordially.  I remained thoughtful in my gaze. “I am surprised you cannot sense it; I would have thought it would be very apparent to you.”

             
“Maybe it is quietened by my presence,” he said agreeably as he leaned against the counter.  He paused and smiled. “I don’t think it means you any harm.  Whatever it is, it must be truly dead . . . unlike me.” I got up and went to him.

             
“No it is not like you.  You are real and it is not,” I said softly.  “I suppose it’s

quite
comforting in a strange sort of way.”  I thought for a moment, “I believe it is the ghost of Madeline, in fact, I am sure of it,” I said decisively, making up my mind once and for all.  Darius was clearly astonished at my assumption.

             
“Why do you say that?”

             
“A reasonable explanation,” I said hesitating, and hoped my words would not upset him. “It feels female and she would be quietened by your presence -- her only son.”   Darius considered for a moment, as if he was deciding whether to humour me or not.

             
“Just when did you come to that conclusion?” he said, with an odd expression.       

             
“Actually just now, it suddenly seems to make sense to me, I think the things she does is just a way of telling me she is here. Perhaps she thinks she can communicate through me to you. I often think about her when I am in here -- knowing this was her kitchen.” I paused for a brief moment, “I know she had a cook, but when you said she used to concoct her various potions I assumed she must have done it in here.”  Darius smiled and pulled me close to him.

             
“You have a very colourful imagination.  Maybe that is why you fascinate me so, for I could have never come up with that scenario in all of eternity,” he remarked cordially.  I laughed as I took a step back from him.

             
“You are making fun of me,” I said dryly, “I am sure
you
would have figured it out sooner or later.  With all your refinement and education and it takes a simple mortal like me to point out the obvious to you.”

             
“There is nothing simple about you,” he answered amused, “but it does make sense.  My mother used to spend all her spare time in the garden gathering various plants, or in the kitchen and pantry.  It was in there that she did her
concocting,
away from the prying eyes of anyone that may have happened into the kitchen.” He paused for a moment.  “She had the gift to heal, uncommon for her time, and I know you think her a witch, but if she was she would have been a white witch, the only evil things she did were out of necessity.”

             
“I know,” I said quickly. I should have known that Darius would have been able to read my thoughts, especially when they concerned his mother. “Had I been in her position I would probably have done the same thing,” I hesitated for a few moments.   “If she did kill Theo, she would have concocted that poison in the pantry, out of sight of any servants.” 

              “Yes, most certainly,” Darius said reflectively. “That is why her soul is not at peace.” There was sadness in his voice. “She killed him once, only to have him return and take her life years later, also destroying the lives of her children into the bargain,” he remarked with a distant look on his face.  I placed my hand on his arm.

             
“You know it’s only a theory, Darius,” I said softly.

             
“I know -- a good one though.  She would be quietened by my presence.” I smiled at him.

             
“Well, that’s good isn’t’t it?” I asked cautiously, “I mean when you are here you know she is calmed.”

             
“I suppose so,” he answered distantly. I had the distinct feeling he was lost in deep thought, transported back in time to that night. I waited for his mind to return and I reflected that Darius in fact had never died, not in the true sense of the word, he had only transgressed into another being. Perhaps I was wrong to assume that he would be aware of ghosts and other entities any more than mortals. Darius looked at me and smiled, he had come back to me and the present moment.

  
              “Come with me,” he said, taking my hand. “There is a full moon tonight -- let’s go outside.”

             
The garden had taken on a magical quality, bathed in full moonlight.  An occasional heavy cloud briefly obscured the moon, causing our surroundings to plummet into darkened shadows for a few minutes, before appearing again in the luminous white radiance. In the distance the sea was smooth and as dark as black velvet, not a single ripple disturbed the surface.