Love's Sacrifice by Toni LoTempio

Love’s Sacrifice
Toni LoTempio

The light bothered her.
Turning her head away from the window, the girl fought against the nausea that welled in the pit of her stomach. She’d never felt like this before. She bit her lip and gazed out the window at the breaking dawn.
Colors of purple and pink lit up the early morning sky, and the sun resembled a huge ball of liquid fire. She turned away with a strangled cry and buried herself in her pillow. For some unknown reason, the light affected her strangely.
Her hand went to her throat and touched the necklace she’d worn ever since he’d placed it around her neck. A symbol of their love, he’d said.
Silently she fingered the large gold “B” encrusted with tiny freshwater pearls and her birthstone, the garnet. The blood red of the stone fascinated her.
“This will bind us together for all time,” he’d promised, an instant before he swept her up in his arms and crushed her lips with his own. She’d felt dizzy, light-headed, and assumed it had been from excitement. But now, thinking back, she realized that she’d never really shaken that feeling. Each day, she’d grown worse.
Her eyes rested for a brief moment on the tiny scar on her neck. That, too, had appeared suddenly. Flinging back the covers, she reached a decision. She would find him and make him tell her what was happening.

The hall was silent and she made her way carefully down the stairs. She knew every inch of the old house; still, there was so much that she wasn’t aware of. She paused. In the distance she could hear voices, joined in sing-song chanting. She strained her ears, trying to determine the sound’s exact location. As she went further down the hall, the chanting grew stronger, until at last she came to a brick wall. The voices seemed to be coming from there.
But how could that be?
She pressed her palms against the cool brick. The wall was solid. And yet-
She stiffened. Had she imagined it, or had there been a slight sound behind her, a footfall? Cautiously, she turned her head and felt a sharp pain, as if a million bright lights were exploding in front of her.
She knew no more.

When she awoke, all she saw at first was inky blackness. Then, as her eyes gradually became accustomed to the darkness, she saw that she was in a tiny, windowless room. She went to raise her hand and found that she could not. Both her hands and feet were tied, and she was stretched out on what appeared to be a marble slab. She felt the first beginnings of fear start to slowly rise in her stomach.
“Where am I,” she cried, knowing full well that it was useless. The house was deserted. Who would hear her? Yet someone had to have put her here. A figure emerged from the shadows, then, a figure wearing a long, black hooded robe. As it came closer, the hood slipped back, and she could see the features. She breathed a sigh of relief.
It was her own Alfred.
“Alfred,” she whispered. “You’ve come to rescue me. What am I doing here?”
He smiled down at her, perfect white teeth flashing in contrast to the black of his robe, the olive of his skin. “Ah, Giselle. You are perfect, little one. Do not be afraid. The master will be pleased.”
She tried to raise her head. “The master? What are you talking about? Whose master?”
He stepped back slightly. “Mine, Giselle. And soon, yours.”
She detected a slight movement and gasped in astonishment. From the shadows came several more figures, all dressed like Alfred, in black robes with hoods that hid their faces. Slowly, they began to chant the same chant she’d heard in the hall. She strained against the ropes that held her but they were bound too tightly. Alfred was standing over her, but he seemed different. Gone was her gentle, loving fiancee. In its place was this cold, unfeeling monster.
The chant grew louder and she tugged ever harder, but to no avail. In the distance, a clock started to chime. Alfred reached down into the folds of his robe, drew forth a gleaming knife,held it aloft. In horror she realized what he was about to do.
“No. Alfred. No,” she screamed, and in the background the chiming of the clock and the droning of the chant seemed as one.
With one swift motion, the knife found its mark.

Much later, he removed the necklace from around the throat of the now lifeless form. Slipping it into the folds of the robe, he silently left the room.
He’d loved her, as much as a creature such as himself could love anyone. But it had to be done. There was just no other way.
At least the Master would be pleased.
He leaned back, and a cry escaped his lips, long, loud and bloodcurdling, from the depths of his tortured soul.
He lifted his head. It would be dawn soon. He would have to hurry to get back to the safety of his coffin.
His fingers touched the necklace. His fangs, long and sharp, gnawed against his lower lip.
Soon, very soon, another would wear it. Another would be marked for death.
Another would become the sacrifice.
He raised his arms. For a moment, there was only silence.
Then the gentle flutter of wings as the bat flew away, the necklace clamped firmly between its teeth.