Chapter 2
In due course the wedding came and went, and our new step-mother became as much a part of our lives as our governess and the few maids we had about the house. She treated father kindly, and in return he seemed quietly besotted with her. Satisfied that his daughters were in good hands, he retired more and more often to his studies and his writings, and some days we would not see him at all, as he became in the habit of taking his meals in the library whenever he was engrossed.
Our step-mother was a lady of unusual habits herself. In keeping with the languid, almost luxurious demeanour which she projected she rose late, coming down well after midday most often. And she often seemed lethargic and distracted during the daylight hours. After dark, however the contrast could not have been more vivid, and she would even call for her horse late at night, and wrapping a thick velvet cloak about her, would disappear into the night, riding side-saddle at a gallop. Thinking back now, it was odd that father should have indulged such behaviour, but he was lost in his quill and his books.
It was only slowly that the cracks in our family's veneer of normality began to show, and dark and hungry things began to stir beneath the surface. The first inkling I had was in my thirteenth year, when my nights began to be disturbed by visions of growing unease and intensity.
I still shared my chamber with my sister at that age, although her presence was to be little comfort to me in my nightmares. At first it was nothing but an odd sensation as I crossed over from the waking world into dreaming. I would feel as if I were falling, being dragged down into my bed by a strong current, a sensation I would barely recall when I woke. But as they continued, I became aware that as I was pulled under a cloud of hot dark silk wrapped and billowed around me, tangling my limbs and blocking my sight. If I struggled it only pulled tighter, and wrapping silken bolts around me, held me fast. Incapacitated by this faceless force, I tried to call out, but when I opened my mouth, the black thing invaded my mouth and stoppered me. Thus assaulted and overcome, I would wake with a rush and find my night dress soaked with a cold sweat, while Severine slumbered in ignorance of my distress.
Often I lay awake for a long while after these episodes, afraid to sleep in case the dream overtook me once more. Our young governess Mademoiselle Courtauld slept in the room across the hall, but I feared to move from my bed, and besides, what power could she wield over nightmares? In the darkness of my bed chamber, and seemingly alone in the world it was no easy task to soothe myself from the terror of the awful dream. Every shadow seemed to conceal menace, and I imagined I saw things move in the corner of my eye.
In a sane world, such fears are unfounded, for in reality nothing lurks in the shadows of the night, but alas I was to learn that for me such fears were justified. As I lay in my bed after one of my night horrors, casting a fearful glance around the room, I was suddenly overcome by a dizzying sensation as if swooning. The room swam, and the shadows about me became like liquid, flowing and swirling. Struggling to find a point upon which to focus, my attention fell on the door of my wardrobe, which was standing ajar. Only the shadows within it seemed immune to the sickening motion of the rest of the room, and I sat up and got unsteadily to my feet to move towards it. As I did, the darkness within the wardrobe swelled, and blew a warm breeze that sent a shiver across my sweat-soaked skin. With the rest of the room still writhing, I glided numbly into the safe darkness of the wardrobe, closing the door after me.
Once within, my head cleared, and I took stock of the situation. Either side of me, clothes hung harmlessly, and I reached out and touched the bare wooden sides. All appeared normal, although it was preternaturally dark, and I could not tell if my eyes were open or not. After standing a moment in this state, I imagined I felt something brush delicately against the back of my hand, though I had not moved. Fear rose again in my stomach. I felt a feather-light touch on my cheek, and turned to see if I could feel what had touched me. There was nothing there. Frozen I stood, still thinking I had imagined it. But after a moment I felt a flurry of light caresses up the back of my legs and thighs under my night dress. I reached for what could have touched me, but there was nothing, and as I did I felt another wave travel up from my wrists, along the inside of my arms, and across my chest. It was warm within the dark wardrobe, and even though the cause was unknown, the touches were not unpleasant. Vainly I felt for what could be causing them, but even as I did a pattering of them flowed from the back of my scalp, down the back of my neck and down my back, passing lightly over my buttocks. I realized that these touches were passing directly over my skin, underneath my night dress, and the impossibility of it sent a little spurt of fear inside me.
Almost as if feeding on my new fear, the touches returned, swelling and dividing. They flowed over my naked skin, and I trembled at the pleasure of it, even as my stomach sank in terror. I braced myself against the wooden walls of the wardrobe, and concentrated on the caresses. They followed the curves of my body, a wave passing from the soles of my feet up my legs, swirling around my inner thighs and passing up the cleft of my buttocks, shockingly tickling my anus for the briefest of moments before growing firmer on my lower back, almost like hands pressing. Then it was soft and ephemeral again, splitting and passing around both sides of my waist and caressing the soft skin of my belly, joining and moving as a wave up my chest and delightfully stimulating the sensitive nipples of my small breasts. Now there were waves of tickles and caresses all over me, and I tilted my head back as they played wonderfully up my soft throat, while another wave worked it's way down from my belly button, flowing teasingly and warmly over my pubis and finding it's way between my thighs to pulsate deliciously against my virgin parts.
My fear was rapidly becoming forgotten as I became lost in the pleasurable sensations flowing over me, but an unmistakable sensation of hot breath in my ear tweaked a rush of fearful juices inside. In response the flurrying caresses redoubled, and their attentions upon my breasts became firmer, while a cascade of featherlight touches played on my clitoris and a languid finger of stimulation traveled wetly up and down my labia, teasing them apart. I became aware of a force gripping both my wrists as I braced myself against the interior of the wardrobe, and the breath in my ear returned and slid downwards over my neck, and I imagined it felt as if a forked tongue would, flickering on my skin. Now I could definitely make out some of the flutters on my body coalescing into firm hands, which clasped me about my waist. With my head still flung back and my back arched the tongue slid up my throat, and waves of pleasure flowed and played all over my skin. Suddenly the tongue on my naked throat seemed to grow and become a hot gaping maw, and I felt a sharp pain like two long needles piercing me and felt wet blood begin to flow.
I shot straight upright in my bed, almost crying out in pain. My hand clutched to my neck, but found no wound, and in the moonlight I could see Severine slumbering idyllically in her bed. This time my sweat was hot and my night dress clung to me wetly. Yet I shivered, and pulling the bedclothes tight about me I sat fearfully until dawn crept into the room and banished the shadows at last.