Shadows Of Desire
Broken Pieces

Killian had been laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for hours. He’d traced the path of the cracks and broken lines in the stone so many times in his head that he had them memorized. Earlier, a spider had crawled across the ceiling, from one wall to the next, and Killian had watched it’s progression with mild interest. At least the spider was free. It was there by choice. Unlike Killian. He sighed and turned to face the wall. The drab, cold wall without even a painting nor tapestry to brighten the room.

The fine furnishings and ample space was but a ruse. It was meant for the confined to feel less like a prisoner locked away in the dungeons and more like a guest with restricted access to the Palace. When you stripped away the illusion though, and were left with the reality of the situation, there could be no mistake. It was a cell. A cage. A well furnished cage, but a cage none the less. Killian often lay on his bed wondering when his confinement would end. Would he be released soon? Or would the Queen finally decide to end his life?

Night after night he wondered this until he stopped. He stopped wondering and he stopped caring. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been there. Time slipped by unnoticed for him. The only clue that the hours had passed was when his meals were brought. Two plates of food a day and one goblet of blood. He was sure it was more than what the prisoners in the dungeons received but still was only enough to keep him alive and keep him from going mad. He was weak from the lack of proper feeding though he suspected that was what the Queen wanted.

Keep him weak and incapacitated. He’d be easier to control that way and less likely to have another outburst. It was a good plan, a sensible one. The Queen knew his mind well because, when he got out of that room, he was going to replace Emilia and rip her throat out. Even if he were killed in the process. Death no longer scared him anyway. Vengeance was all he cared about now. Vengeance, and retribution for what Emilia and the Queen had done to his beloved Rowan. The countless days that he had spent in that room were consumed now with thoughts of killing Emilia. Of watching the life drain from her face as she begged for mercy that would never come. Those thoughts were all he had left. They were the one thing that kept him going.

Killian sat up, startled when he heard the familiar sound of the lock on the only door to the room suddenly click and the door itself was slowly eased opened. It opened with a long, drawn out, creaking, moan. Next he heard the tapping of heels on the stone floor. Killian swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward, listening to the intruder close the door behind them and ease cautiously into the main room of his cell. Killian’s nerves were suddenly on edge as he wondered who this person was coming into his room. Not guards for they would have barged in, slamming the door against the wall, not crept in quietly as though trying not to disturb the occupant.

It wasn’t the servants bringing him food or blood. He’d had his share of blood for the day and the last meal of the day was brought while it was still light out. He looked towards the window with it’s silver bars. The sky was dark, too dark for early morning. The blackened sky told him that it was night, probably close to midnight. So, why was someone entering his rooms now? He slowly pushed himself up from the bed and walked to the doorway that led from the main sitting area to the bedroom. The sight before him gave him pause as he stared at his intruder with surprise, and rage. She was the last person he expected to ‘visit’ him, and the last person he wanted to see. The very sight of her fueled the anger boiling over inside of him and it took all the strength he had left not to rush forward and attack.

Oh, he could just imagine wrapping his hands around her throat, choking her, squeezing harder and harder until he heard the bones of her neck crack and break. Then, when all strength and fight had left her, he’d rip her head from her neck and burn her body to ash. If only he had the strength in him to do it. Alas, the lack of proper feeding had left him barely able to stand let alone kill and, on top of that, the striking glint of silver in her hand had him taking a step back. A silver dagger. So, he thought, She’s come to kill me.

***

When humans replace themselves in danger they experience things such as a fast beating heart, heavy, rapid, breathing, or damp, clammy hands. These sensations lead to panic attacks, or even caused one to flee in terror. While Caroline certainly felt the urge to flee, the other sensations however, were dead to her. Her heart did not pound nor did her breathing quicken. She had a heart, but she had never felt it beat within her chest and she had never once needed to breath in order to live. Though Caroline had never experienced these sensations in her life, she could imagine what it felt like for, as she opened the door to the tower room and stepped inside, she felt, in her most primal self, the need to turn and run.

As she pulled the door closed behind her, Caroline’s own mind was telling her stop, turn around, danger! Her instincts were seldom wrong and the further into the room she crept the more her brain screamed at her to leave but, she refused to listen. What was the greater danger? Killian, in his weakened yet deranged state, or the council learning of her role in Emilia’s death? Caroline didn’t blame herself. She had been tricked by those devilish specters, led to believe that her very life was in danger. The fault was theirs and theirs alone but, how could Caroline explain that to the council? They would think her mad. If they didn’t choose to have her executed they would most certainly lock her away for the rest of her life which, for a vampire, could be an eternity.

For a vampire, death was not the worst punishment that could be given. For a vampire, death was a small mercy in comparison. The worst punishment ever given a vampire was an eternity of darkness, locked away in a crypt, bound in silver chains, with no hope of escaping. Years of confinement without the ability to hunt and feed, no contact with another living creature, and no concept of time...that was a fate worse than death. Eventually the vampire would go mad, becoming unhinged, delirious with hunger, and more beast like. It is a torture more viscous and cruel than any other. Even if, by chance, they were released centuries later, by that time, they would be more monster than man (or woman).

For her sake, Caroline had to ensure that her daughter’s murder was not connected to her. Emilia would understand. She would not want her mother punished for something that she had no control over. After all, Caroline was as much a victim in this as Emilia had been. At least, that’s what she had convinced herself of. No, her only chance of escaping such a cruel fate was to place the blame on another and, who better than her daughter’s maniac of a husband who had already loudly, and in the presence of multiple guards, threatened to kill Emilia himself. Caroline knew that once Killian was captured there would be questions. How had he escaped the tower in the first place? Where did he get the weapon? Those answers could be answered later and, if it came down to it, Caroline could always feign ignorance. It had always worked for her in the past.

Caroline glanced around the outer room and, not seeing Killian anywhere, assumed that he must be in the bed chambers. She sighed a breath of relief but then internally scolded herself for being such a coward. What had she really expected? That he would leap out at her, fangs bared, ready to rip her to pieces? The memory of when he’d attacked Emilia came to Caroline and she was momentarily consumed with rage. The way his eyes looked, dead inside and filled with rage, as his hands squeezed around her throat and the look of terror in Emilia’s eyes was enough to make Caroline want to drive the dagger she held directly into Killian’s heart and watch him suffer and bleed the way Emilia had. It should be Killian laying dead in the hall outside the Queen’s chambers, not her precious daughter.

It should have been Killian but it wasn’t and Caroline couldn’t allow her emotions to to dictate her actions now. She needed Killian. As much as she despised him, she needed him if her plan was to work. His end would come soon enough but for now, he had a very important role to play and Caroline couldn’t lose sight of what was most important. She couldn’t very well blame a dead man for Emilia’s murder now, could she?

Caroline took another hesitant step into the room, ever vigilant and cautious of her surroundings. One wrong move could mean her death. She gripped the dagger tighter in her hand, holding it against her breast as she moved towards the bed chamber. A shadow moved across the opened doorway and Caroline froze. Her hands shook and her head snapped up as the looming figure of Lord Kilian slid into view. He stood, leaning against the door frame, watching her with narrowed eyes and a scowl upon his face that sent slivers of ice through her blood. His eyes drifted to her bosom, to the dagger she held in her hand and then, he grinned. He grinned like a mad man. There was no reason behind those black eyes of his, no sanity. Killian had truly lost his mind.

Killian took a step towards her and Caroline tensed as she watched him move, slinking forward, like a cat stalking a mouse. The grip on her dagger remained firm as she raised an eyebrow and stared at him. She straightened her back and held her head up high, not allowing herself to seem intimidated by this man. No matter what she felt on the inside, it was important that she not show any weaknesses. The smallest hint of fear on her part and Killian would have the upper hand.

“What a pleasant surprise, your Majesty.” Killian bowed to her in mock respect. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Caroline gulped, then pursed her lips as she watched him. For the next part of her plan to work she had to sound sincere, earn his confidence, and make him really believe that what she was about to tell him was the truth. For that she had to spin her tale as though her actions benefited her in some way. Killian wouldn’t believe for a second that she came to him out of some sense of loyalty or affection. Caroline was a shrewd and self serving woman and Killian knew that. There was nothing that she did that did not have her own interests in mind.

“I’ve come to...warn you.” Caroline said, choosing her words carefully.

“Warn me?” Killian laughed at her revelation. “Why, my dear Queen, do I detect a hint of concern in your voice?”

“Not for you.” Caroline told him, her voice sounding cold and indifferent to Killian’s continued suffering.

“Then what is this warning that you’ve risked your life to deliver?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he studied the Queen, his curiosity now peeked. He still wanted to kill her. That thought had not left his twisted mind, but he also found it amusing to play with her. And, of course, there was the matter of the silver dagger that she clutched above her heart. He couldn’t forget that. Even in his deranged state he was aware that, if the Queen so desired, she could easily plunge said dagger into his chest as he was far too weak to stop her.

“I know of what’s been plaguing you.” The Queen said, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper. “The guards tell me that you scream out in the night. Mad screams. They even frighten some of them. Do the spirits of the dead come to you often? Do they threaten to tare you apart?”

Killian turned his face away from her then, scowling as he stared down at the floor. His muscles tensed and he pushed the claws of his right hand into his forearm as he attempted to calm himself. Attacking now wouldn’t do him any good but her voice was grating on him to the point where he wanted to bash his own head against the grey stones of his cage just to drown her out. “You know nothing.” He hissed, his jaw clenched tightly.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” She persisted. “Does Rowan haunt your dreams? Do he appear before you in the night?”

Killian turned on her suddenly, his eyes red with the rage that was quickly building inside of him. His fists clenched and his muscles tight and rigid as he reached out for her then stopped himself before he could actually touch her. He smirked as she moved away from him, nearly stumbling as she backed against the wall closest to the door. She was frightened. Good. He thought. She should be frightened of him. She should be terrified. If he had not stopped himself when he had, she would be dead now. He wanted her dead. He wanted to wrap his fingers around her slender neck. He wanted his claws to rip through flesh and muscle, and bone. He wanted to crush her. He wanted her to suffer.

“Do not speak his name you filthy whore!” He growled. “He was everything pure and good in this world and you destroyed him!”

“I destroyed him?” The Queen smirked as she watched the man unraveling before her. Killian was shaking, his entire body shook as he leaned against the back of a chair and fought against his own desires to lash out at her. Why he didn’t try she did not know. Perhaps he was still too weak to manage more than hurling hurt words at her. Perhaps he wasn’t as brave as she had once thought. Whatever the reason, he was playing right into her hands. She wanted him angry. She wanted him enraged. She wanted him so out of his mind with despair and desperation that he would be willing to do anything, even battle demons.

“It was you who destroyed him.” Caroline taunted. “You who drove him to want to kill himself. I may have put the poison in his hands but he drank it willingly. He chose death rather than a life as your mate. So, no, my dear Lord Killian. I did not destroy him. His blood is on your hands not mine and it is you he has returned for.”

Killian opened his mouth to speak but his words were choked back as the reality of what the Queen had just said finally registered within his broken mind. His eyes widened as he stared at her and for the first time, she saw real fear in those eyes. Her suspicions had been correct, Killian was in deed being tormented by Rowan’s ghost. Or, rather, the image of his ghost that Killian’s guilt ridden mind had conjured up. Caroline could have told him then that Rowan was alive. That he was being held in the dungeons of the castle. She could have ended his suffering with three simple words, Rowan still lives. But, she did not. Better to keep his ghosts alive than lose her leverage.

“I know.” Caroline whispered, taking a step closer. “I know because I have seen him too.” She lied. “He has come to me with a simple message. Once he has ended you, I am next.” She closed her eyes and shuddered, feigning fear. False tears filled her eyes as she did her best to play the helpless victim. Hoping, not to gain his sympathies but, to convince him that the peril they faced was real.

Killian sighed. “Good.” He said in response as he relaxed into the chair he had been leaning over. Caroline was a bit surprised at his calm reaction to the threat she had just revealed. “He deserves his vengeance.” Killian said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

The Queen had not expected this but, no matter. She was far from done with her manipulation of this broken man. Moving to his side, Caroline knelt beside him and placed her free hand on his arm. “Does he though?” She asked, her voice softer, kinder, and with an edge of mock concern. “What had you done that was so bad except to love him? Is that a crime worthy of a death sentence?”

Killian pulled his arm away and glared at her. “He didn’t love me.” He answered. “He told me so. And yet, I pursued him. I was intent on having him whether he consented or not. Had I respected his wishes and left, he might still be alive today.”

Caroline sighed, looking down as she shook her head. “He was a foolish child trapped in an impossible situation. Even if you had called off the engagement as he wanted, do you think that would have saved him? The King would have killed him himself. Rowan knew this. He had but two options and he chose the one he felt would serve him best.”

“And what of your role in this?” Killian looked at her with contempt, having already judged her in his mind. It was she who he blamed most for what had happened to Rowan. She and her conniving daughter. “Do you think yourself blameless?”

Caroline looked up and their eyes met. Killian expected to see remorse on her face or crocodile tears as she spoke a well rehearsed line about how she was only trying to help him. To his surprise though, it wasn’t remorse, or guilt, or fake tears that he saw in her eyes. What he saw, was the cunning stare of a wicked woman who felt absolutely no regret for the pain she had caused those around her. “Blameless?” Her lips curved into a devilish grin that chilled even Killian to the bone.

“No, I am not blameless. I put that poison in his hand knowing he would drink it. I wanted him dead. He was in the way of my plans. I wanted Emilia to wed you and one day, when my time had come to an end, she would be Queen with you at her side as her King. Your title and influence would have served her well. When you set your sights on Rowan though, it brought my plans to a screeching halt. It’s true that I have never liked Rowan. In fact, I despised him. But I tolerated him when he was nothing more than a nuisance to me. There was no way though that I would ever allow him to become Queen. I would never allow him to take that right away from my daughter. So, yes. I devised a way to get rid of him. I wanted him dead. I acted in the best interest of my child.”

Killian huffed. “And now you wonder why he’s come back, seeking his revenge?”

“No. I know exactly why he’s come back. I just refuse to allow myself to become his victim.”

“So, you’ve come to me for help?” Killian chuckled bitterly as he glared at her. “How pathetic.”

“You talk as though you have given up but I know you, Killian. I know your kind. Not even in your despair would you be willing to just give in and die. You’re a survivor, the same as me. I know you’ll fight to save yourself, even if it is against your precious Rowan.”

The Queen sneered as she spoke his name. Rowan, whom she despised. Rowan who claimed to be a child of the Tuatha. Caroline clenched her hands into fists. She would not let Rowan win this battle. Prophecy be damned. Come midnight, he would die. Killian would take the blame for Emilia’s death, and the rest of the Fae would join them all in death. In one fell swoop, Caroline would eliminate all of her enemies. Not even the vampire council could stand in her way then, Basmorte would be hers.

***

The Queen had left Killian’s cage but not before giving him a sage piece of advice. “Kill, or be killed.” She told him. “Be either the predator or the prey.”

Killian looked down at the silver dagger that she thrust into his hand before exiting his rooms. Was it really that simple? He wondered. Could one really kill a ghost?

For a time, Killian had begin to really think he had gone mad. His rantings and raving about ghosts and phantoms had earned him some pitying stares from the guards and servants that had come and gone from his room over the past few days. Whispers filled the room, commenting on his deteriorated state of mind. Some thought he would be put to death in the days that followed. Other’s suggested that his punishment would be a life imprisoned, chained to a wall in the dungeon where he would scream himself hoarse.

He had almost accepted the fact that his life was over and that the loss of Rowan had caused him to fall into madness. A madness that dragged him deeper into the pit of despair each pathetic night of his life. But, Caroline had seen Rowan. He had come to her, threatened her, and it scared her enough to seek out Killian for protection. Honestly, he didn’t give a damn about the Queen. Rowan could drag her kicking and screaming into the bowels of hell for all he cared. For Killian though, there was no reprieve from his fate. Caroline might have put the poison in his hand, but Killian drove Rowan to death himself. So, if Rowan came for him, when Rowan came for him, he would not fight him, and he would not resist.

Let Rowan have his sweet revenge. Maybe then his troubled soul would replace rest. That was Killian’s only absolution, that his death would end Rowan’s suffering. If that is what had to happen then so be it. Killian would gladly give his life for the one he loved. It was the last kind thing he could do for him. Well, almost. There was one thing that Killian planned to do before his demise. One thing that would help ease Rowan’s passage into the next life. Rowan’s passing would not go unpunished. Killian planned to deliver Emilia into the hands of death himself. In pieces if he had to. Then, and only then, would he be ready to follow his love into oblivion.