Death (Hurt/Comfort)
He had grown used to the bond between them, to feeling the things she felt, to sometimes seeing the things she saw. But never, not once, had he thought to feel as he was feeling now; to feel as if someone were pulling a string out of his heart. The annoying sensation, though not painful, alerted him that something was not going as it should on the other side of the world, mainly on Amelia’s train, by now scheduled to have arrived at Budapest. The entire council was to be picked up by Kahn and a handpicked team of the trustworthiest death dealers, driven in a limousine guarded by a car full of death dealers behind them. János kept repeating this sentence in his mind, trying to refrain from closing his eyes at the constant pulling in his chest, trying to pay attention to what the nobles were discussing in his lady’s absence so that when she came back, he could have a complete report. Instead, he was trying to see past the face of Count Berkley, the man who was currently speaking, and trying to get an image of the train station, where he supposed Amelia was. Oddly enough, he could not see anything, just like that time Amelia had tried to keep him from seeing her turn Andreas Tanis into a vampire. She had tried to focus on the old walls instead, but between flashes of decaying concrete, ancient nobles transported into canvas and the yellowed curtains, János had known of this fact and questioned her later.
Over twenty minutes passed before he, worried at the lack of contact from Ördöghaz, decided to cancel his upcoming meeting with the board director of Ziodex and instead retired to his room, bent on getting to know what Amelia didn’t want him to. Then, he gasped softly due to a sharp pain in his shoulder. He clutched at it and thought that if he was feeling such discomfort, his mistress must be in great pain. He hurried to his room and sat down on his bed, closing his eyes and trying to focus on what he could feel, what he could not understand, letting himself be run by emotion entirely, and not by logic. By doing this, and before Amelia blocked him again he managed to catch a glimpse of a ceiling, decorated with a bright light but no chandelier, so he knew Amelia was not in the mansion yet. And not in the limousine, either. And, since he could feel no wind, he supposed she wasn’t in the train station. That only left the train itself, but according to schedule they should have left it well over half an hour ago. He stood up fast and desperately grabbed the phone, dialling the number to Kahn’s cell phone. He tapped his foot on the floor in annoyance, one of his many childish gestures, and waited for Kahn to answer the phone. He started to think something might have happened to the entourage, seeing as Kahn did not pick up the phone, but on the sixth ring János finally heard a familiar voice.
“Hello?”
“It’s János. I need to know where the council is.” He said, not bothering to greet Kahn.
“I wouldn’t know. Kraven sent Soren and his team to pick the nobles up. I thought he had told you…” Kahn seemed to be annoyed by the fact that there had been a change in plans.
“No, he apparently forgot to run the authorization through me…” János frowned. “I’ll contact you later.” He told Kahn and hung up. He tried to contact Kraven, even Soren, but it seemed they had vanished.
János started pacing his room. His footsteps echoed slightly off the wooden floor. He started to think on what could be happening on the other side of the globe, for if Kraven had not wanted him to know Soren was picking up the council, he was surely up to no good. He focused, trying to contact Amelia to either ask her what was happening, or to see where she was, and after a few moments of struggling with her he saw another flash. This time it was a small hallway, its floor covered with red carpets. There was no doubt of it this time, the council was in the train, and Amelia was apparently lying on the carpet. He was worried that they may have been attacked even before getting to the station.
Then he felt as if someone were pulling a string similar to the one he felt in his heart, but out of his neck. He shivered at the puling and shook his head to try to get rid of the feeling, but it didn’t work. He winced and scratched at the side of his neck, feeling the vein and the pulse beneath his fingers.
János was starting to feel tired, so in order to wake up he stood up to walk to his guitar. He plugged it to the amplifier and smiled. Amelia had always rolled her eyes at him for his childish attitude and rebellious ways, but, even as she told him to stop playing the guitar in the mansion, she had gone to the extent of paying for his room to be equipped wit soundproof walls. So, she was not entirely reluctant of his guitar playing. Besides, he could see through the stern façade most of the time and see that she would like to have time to fool around, just like him.
And so, he played. Note after note, rock music came out of the small black box. That particular song was an invention of his, a way to vent out his sadness. He had written it thinking of Sophia and his children, and as the melancholic tones came to his ears, he felt as if he were someone else, older, and more tired. This was, of course, the intention. It was in these moments that he could feel distant from everything that could trouble him, from the coven, from his emotions, even from Amelia. And he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound.
But not for long. He opened his eyes, perhaps too soon, as the realization came over him. The constant pulling at both his heart and neck were gone, and he felt isolated from something important. He tried to focus on Amelia, completely awake now, forming her image in his mind, wanting their blood bond to work as it had for centuries. He was expecting to find her mind still veiled to him, but after a few minutes of nothing at all he began to worry.
The lack of contact had never before lasted so long. It usually happened when one of them both was seriously hurt and unconscious. This mere thought was enough to send him pacing again, and added to it biting his lip, a childish action, he knew, but even after 800 years he still had it.
And then, suddenly, it dawned on him. Amelia, the one person in this crazy world he had believed to be truly immortal, was dead. There had been an ambush, certainly, and she had died in it.
János could barely drag his feet to the bed and flop down on it, face in his hands and a vacant stare in his eyes. He felt empty, a shell, as if a third of his heart had been stolen from him. This reaction, uncommon of him, because of the death of a woman with a heart of ice. A woman who didn’t have time to get involved in any kind of relationship with another living being. And yet, he felt the inexplicable need to always be by her side, to try to make her smile once in a while, to call to cancel a meeting when she was far too tired to go. One might be inclined to think, from these little actions, he loved her. One would be wrong. It was not love he felt, nor sympathy nor compassion, but devotion, to her and her wellbeing. He did not notice the passing of two long hours, so engrossed was he in his thoughts.
There. He lifted his head, straightened up and looked through his fingers. It slowly began anew. The pulling in his heart was there again. He could feel her existence, his fears were dimmed and there was a smile struggling to form on one corner of his mouth. He focused in getting another glimpse and almost without his knowledge, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. He managed to see a blurred white ceiling, and hear the buzzing of the rectangular lamps, and he also noted she was not in pain anymore, before her mind was blocked again, hastily and with a certain anger at the constant intrusions.
It did not matter. Even if he did not know where she was, whether the rest of the council had survived, it did not matter, because she was safe. His existence still had a purpose, because he still had someone to look after.
Over twenty minutes passed before he, worried at the lack of contact from Ördöghaz, decided to cancel his upcoming meeting with the board director of Ziodex and instead retired to his room, bent on getting to know what Amelia didn’t want him to. Then, he gasped softly due to a sharp pain in his shoulder. He clutched at it and thought that if he was feeling such discomfort, his mistress must be in great pain. He hurried to his room and sat down on his bed, closing his eyes and trying to focus on what he could feel, what he could not understand, letting himself be run by emotion entirely, and not by logic. By doing this, and before Amelia blocked him again he managed to catch a glimpse of a ceiling, decorated with a bright light but no chandelier, so he knew Amelia was not in the mansion yet. And not in the limousine, either. And, since he could feel no wind, he supposed she wasn’t in the train station. That only left the train itself, but according to schedule they should have left it well over half an hour ago. He stood up fast and desperately grabbed the phone, dialling the number to Kahn’s cell phone. He tapped his foot on the floor in annoyance, one of his many childish gestures, and waited for Kahn to answer the phone. He started to think something might have happened to the entourage, seeing as Kahn did not pick up the phone, but on the sixth ring János finally heard a familiar voice.
“Hello?”
“It’s János. I need to know where the council is.” He said, not bothering to greet Kahn.
“I wouldn’t know. Kraven sent Soren and his team to pick the nobles up. I thought he had told you…” Kahn seemed to be annoyed by the fact that there had been a change in plans.
“No, he apparently forgot to run the authorization through me…” János frowned. “I’ll contact you later.” He told Kahn and hung up. He tried to contact Kraven, even Soren, but it seemed they had vanished.
János started pacing his room. His footsteps echoed slightly off the wooden floor. He started to think on what could be happening on the other side of the globe, for if Kraven had not wanted him to know Soren was picking up the council, he was surely up to no good. He focused, trying to contact Amelia to either ask her what was happening, or to see where she was, and after a few moments of struggling with her he saw another flash. This time it was a small hallway, its floor covered with red carpets. There was no doubt of it this time, the council was in the train, and Amelia was apparently lying on the carpet. He was worried that they may have been attacked even before getting to the station.
Then he felt as if someone were pulling a string similar to the one he felt in his heart, but out of his neck. He shivered at the puling and shook his head to try to get rid of the feeling, but it didn’t work. He winced and scratched at the side of his neck, feeling the vein and the pulse beneath his fingers.
János was starting to feel tired, so in order to wake up he stood up to walk to his guitar. He plugged it to the amplifier and smiled. Amelia had always rolled her eyes at him for his childish attitude and rebellious ways, but, even as she told him to stop playing the guitar in the mansion, she had gone to the extent of paying for his room to be equipped wit soundproof walls. So, she was not entirely reluctant of his guitar playing. Besides, he could see through the stern façade most of the time and see that she would like to have time to fool around, just like him.
And so, he played. Note after note, rock music came out of the small black box. That particular song was an invention of his, a way to vent out his sadness. He had written it thinking of Sophia and his children, and as the melancholic tones came to his ears, he felt as if he were someone else, older, and more tired. This was, of course, the intention. It was in these moments that he could feel distant from everything that could trouble him, from the coven, from his emotions, even from Amelia. And he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound.
But not for long. He opened his eyes, perhaps too soon, as the realization came over him. The constant pulling at both his heart and neck were gone, and he felt isolated from something important. He tried to focus on Amelia, completely awake now, forming her image in his mind, wanting their blood bond to work as it had for centuries. He was expecting to find her mind still veiled to him, but after a few minutes of nothing at all he began to worry.
The lack of contact had never before lasted so long. It usually happened when one of them both was seriously hurt and unconscious. This mere thought was enough to send him pacing again, and added to it biting his lip, a childish action, he knew, but even after 800 years he still had it.
And then, suddenly, it dawned on him. Amelia, the one person in this crazy world he had believed to be truly immortal, was dead. There had been an ambush, certainly, and she had died in it.
János could barely drag his feet to the bed and flop down on it, face in his hands and a vacant stare in his eyes. He felt empty, a shell, as if a third of his heart had been stolen from him. This reaction, uncommon of him, because of the death of a woman with a heart of ice. A woman who didn’t have time to get involved in any kind of relationship with another living being. And yet, he felt the inexplicable need to always be by her side, to try to make her smile once in a while, to call to cancel a meeting when she was far too tired to go. One might be inclined to think, from these little actions, he loved her. One would be wrong. It was not love he felt, nor sympathy nor compassion, but devotion, to her and her wellbeing. He did not notice the passing of two long hours, so engrossed was he in his thoughts.
There. He lifted his head, straightened up and looked through his fingers. It slowly began anew. The pulling in his heart was there again. He could feel her existence, his fears were dimmed and there was a smile struggling to form on one corner of his mouth. He focused in getting another glimpse and almost without his knowledge, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. He managed to see a blurred white ceiling, and hear the buzzing of the rectangular lamps, and he also noted she was not in pain anymore, before her mind was blocked again, hastily and with a certain anger at the constant intrusions.
It did not matter. Even if he did not know where she was, whether the rest of the council had survived, it did not matter, because she was safe. His existence still had a purpose, because he still had someone to look after.