Shadows and Light

Chapter 5: Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back

The next few days passed quickly. Isabelle still spent most of her time sleeping and eating although she had started reading some of the books at the cabin to pass the time. She had gained some weight and was feeling stronger each day. Simon had been introduced to her and she had been a bit awed by the big man. He easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds or so and was beyond tall. He had the golden hair and skin that made him seem like the all-American boy next door. He seemed nice, if a bit distant. He seemed to have no interest in her other than gentle but specific questions about what had happened. She had the feeling that he wasn't really interested in women. From some of the small things she had observed she wondered if he was gay. It had never even occurred to her that Ian might be gay as well. Simon and Ian seemed to be close friends with a long history and she found herself wondering just how close they were. Simon spent much of his time in the basement of the cabin, a place she would just as soon forget.

Ian spent every night with her although she was usually asleep when he came to bed. Her comfort level had increased with him although she still jumped when he touched her if she didn't expect it. For the first time since this nightmare had started, she found herself wishing she had a sketchpad and some charcoals with her, so she could capture him on paper.

It was almost two weeks since Ian had found her and he had brought up the subject of moving her to his house in a day or two. She had no objections, it sounded like he would come with her and someone called Witherspoon would be coming up to help Simon. Ian had told her that Witherspoon, and a few others, would want to interview her in a week or too. That made her nervous. Ian apparently knew them all and was comfortable with them. She would just have to trust that a straight forward telling would be good enough. She didn't want to have to do it more than once.

It was late afternoon and she could hear the wind in the pines outside her window. She awoke to the sight of someone new sitting quietly by the bed. He was a severe man. Everything about him was sharp, from the straight nose and thin lips to the creases in his suit. He also looked like he never smiled a day in his life; his eyes were a dark brown as was his hair that was sprinkled with white at the temples. He was larger than she thought at first, with broad shoulders and a long body. She could see a strong resemblance to her kidnapper and torturer, the thin features and shape of the face. A thread of fear hit her stomach. She didn't even realize that she had moved until her back hit the wall.

"Don't be ridiculous child," he said in an irritated voice.

The voice hit her ears and she was plunged back into the darkness of the basement. His voice, Cullen's voice, threatening dark promises of torture, but death held just out of reach. Terror flooded through her and she stared at him with eyes that no longer saw him but Cullen, standing over her, excited and erect as he lashed her unmercifully, making her beg for mercy before he strapped her to the table and tortured her in every way imaginable. When he was finished fucking her she was almost grateful, she would be left alone for a while and he might even feed her.

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At the sound of screaming, Ian bolted from the basement where he was helping Simon and within seconds had hit the bedroom door. Isabelle was in the corner of the room by the foot of the bed, cowering in the corner, her arms raised over her head as it to fend off blows. She was screaming like she did with the worst of her nightmares.

His father was standing. The chair he had been sitting in had been knocked over when he had leapt to his feet. Had Ian not been so worried about Isabelle he would have laughed at the look of sheer astonishment on his father's face.

"Isabelle," Ian went down on his knees beside her. She did not respond and continued cringing in the corner, screaming and sobbing. He pulled her into his arms. He was caught off guard by the savagery of the now kicking and writhing woman in his arms. She flailed and struggled, ignoring the pain in her healing body as she fought to free herself. Ian tried to grab her from behind and pin her arms to her sides, worrying more about the damage she could do to herself rather than him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She continued to scream, kicking wildly. He began to rock her slowly, back and forth, muttering soothing words as he stroked her hair and tried to reach her through her panic. She began to wind down sometime later. Her burst of energy gone and her screams replaced with whimpers and sobs as she continued to shake within the circle of his arms. Lifting her up, he turned and carried her the few steps back to the bed. Her arms latched around his neck in a death grip, the first time she had ever willingly touched him. His father hadn't moved from where he had been standing. His shocked eyes met Ian's and he shook his head.

"Out," said Ian, ice edging his tone. "And shut the door behind you."

His father turned on his heel, offering absolutely no argument. He was way out of his depth and he knew it.

Ian curled up with Isabelle on the bed, continuing to reassure her and stroke her hair. She was facing him now, her face buried in his chest and her arms wrapped around him like a drowning man grasps at a lifejacket. She had quieted to only an occasional sob but she continued to shake and tremble.

Ian just held her. Exhausted by the emotional and physical upheaval she fell asleep a short time later. When he was sure she was asleep, he extricated himself from her and the bed and tucked her back under the covers.

When he entered the small living room, his father looked up from where he was sitting on the couch. "What the hell was that?" he asked in a voice that seemed a bit dazed.

"That," Ian replied angrily, "was a completely traumatized young woman scared out of her mind."

His father just looked at him with wide eyes. Ian had never before seen his father at a loss for words or looking as uncomfortable as he did right now.

"In other words," he continued, his soft voice dripping with rage, "If you had left her alone like I asked you to this wouldn't have happened. I told you that I would introduce you when you got here and reassure her that she was safe so that you could ask her your questions. Instead, you said or did something that triggered a nasty memory and sent her into hysterics. Do you mind telling me what the fuck you thought you were doing?"

"Don't you take that tone and language with me Ian. I will not be spoken to like that," began his father only to be cut off abruptly.

"For once in your life you made a hell of a mistake so just shut up and admit it, "snarled Ian. "For once in MY life I would appreciate it if you would actually LISTEN TO ME! Is that so much to ask? I have spent the last 2 weeks trying to put that young woman back together, and with one screw-up on your part she is right back where she started. You are nothing if not completely clueless about humans except for your business dealings with them. Do you even begin to comprehend what kind of damage Cullen did to her? Do you realize that four months ago she was a gifted student studying art? That was before Cullen introduced her to his own personal version of hell and almost destroyed her. He kidnapped her. He raped her. He tortured her. There is no other word for it. Torture. If you EVER go near her again without permission you will regret it."

His father opened his mouth and Ian continued to run right over the top of him. "I suggest that if you want to know what happened you go downstairs and see for yourself. Stop putting it off. The evidence is all there. Witherspoon is coming up in a day or so and he and Simon will make a full report to the council. HE was content to question Isabelle at a later date when she was stronger." His voice was a quiet snarl now. "I am leaving with Isabelle in the morning. She is strong enough to be moved finally and she will feel better when she is out of this place, quite frankly so will I."

He turned on his heel and stalked back into Isabelle's room, savagely fighting the urge to slam the door behind him

John Sterling just stood for a moment, his anger at his son passing as he admitted that for the first time in a long time that he had been wrong. He hadn't known exactly what to expect, or what he had wanted to find when he went into that room. All he knew was that he had to see the face of the person that had killed his son. It had been a slap in the face to find a young woman that looked so frail and beautiful she could have been the Snow White princess from that ridiculous children's fairy tale. He could see the marks on her neck from bite after bite and the still healing marks from deep bruises.

He had never seen anyone look at him the way that she had; not in the over five hundred years of his existence. She had looked at him first with alarm and then right through him with terror and horror so absolute it froze the soul. Try as he might those deep blue eyes continued to stare straight into his heart and soul. Cullen had done that. He felt the knife of his grief twisting itself in his heart all over again. Straightening his shoulders, he slowly walked over to the opening on the floor. He took a deep breath and descended down the ladder into the nightmare that Cullen had created.