Chapter 1

Damian

Damian Labarre walked briskly through town, not wanting to stay there too long. He dodged behind carts, skirted around the women with their children, and stayed on the lookout for Genevieve Fleour. He swore that she would be the death of him. Damian had only been trying to be friendly to the girl, back when she moved in, but she took it as more than it was. Pretty soon, Damian found himself the victim of a love struck stalker. Most days he would humor her when she decided to show her beautiful face, but not today. Right then, he really just wanted to get to the bookstore, pick up what he needed, and be on his not-so-merry way back home.

He ignored the villager's mumblings about how odd he was just because he wasn't married yet, and because he liked to keep his hair short, and because he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life yet, and rushed into his sanctuary- the bookstore.

The building was old, but safe. There were cobwebs gathered in the corners, and no one bothered sweeping them out because they knew the cobwebs would just come back in a few days. The lighting was always dim, but it added to the cozy environment the shopkeeper had established. The smell that hung in the air was always of old paper and bread, but Damian liked it- it reminded him of his sister.

"Hello, Damian," François said kindly. His loose skin folds crinkled together in the familiar pattern of his smile lines as he welcomed Damian into his store.

"Hello, François," Damian answered back. "Do you happen to have a book called… It Happened at Midnight?" François's brows knit as he rubbed his forehead.

"Well, yes. I suppose I do. Were you planning on buying it?"

Damian scratched the back of his neck before nodding sheepishly.

"My sister's favorite book," he said. François nodded,

"Wasn't going to ask,"

Damian rolled his eyes as he took out the money for the book. François strolled comfortably through the long halls of books before stopping in the third row, near the end. He pulled out a single, brand new book with a blue cover out of the shelf. He rang Damian up and smiled kindly,

"We all miss her,"

Damian nodded sadly, not giving eye contact. He shoved the book into the worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder. In front of the door, before he dove back into the hectic stream of life in his village, Damian took a deep breath of the comforting scents of paper and bread. He walked out, ready to face anything he needed to.

He thought he might be able to make it. So, of course he didn't. Less than one hundred feet from his and his father's small cottage, he was ambushed by the one person he really didn't have the patience for today.

"Damian! Wait up, I have something to talk to you about!"

He mentally cringed and swallowed his sigh before it passed his lips.

"Genevieve. What a surprise,"

"A pleasant one, I should hope," she giggled. Her golden shoulder length hair shifted in the wind, and she shivered in her thin red dress. This time, Damian couldn't stop the sigh.

"Is there anything you need?"

"Yes! Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. As you know, you're unmarried, and that isn't a very popular idea in our village- for a man your age to be unwed-"

"I'm only twenty-one!" He argued, "I've heard of places where people don't wed until they are forty years of age," Genevieve stared at him, uncomprehending, for a few seconds. Damian ran his hand over his face before saying, "Never mind. What were you saying, dear?"

"Ah! Yes. It is very odd for someone your age to be unwed. And as you know, I, too, am unwed," Damian mentally groaned. He bit his lip, but missed how Genevieve's blue eyes followed his mouth's movements. "So, here's where my thoughts went: What if we wed each other?" Genevieve's eyes bore into Damian's, "It would be perfect! Your father loves me, and my father really likes you. Plus, look at us! We're both gorgeous, and we were meant to be together. So… ask me!"

At that point, Damian was completely flustered and red faced. His mouth flapped open, but he quickly closed it and swallowed. Genevieve's eyes watched the bouncing motion of his Adam's apple.

"Don't worry," She laughed when Damian didn't say anything, "I know what you're thinking, and- no. This is not a joke. I won't reject you,"

Luckily, before Damian said anything, Louis appeared.

"Are you sure about that? Because I mean business," and he winked at her. Genevieve rolled her eyes at him. "Will you marry me?" Louis asked, not bothering about Genevieve's obvious signs of disinterest. Genevieve started to yell at him, and Damian, as rude as it was, started running away.

At the front door of his house, he nearly collapsed with relief. He hated his village, and everyone in his village- except for two people- hated him, too. Of those two people, Damian only cared for one person: his father. The other person was Genevieve.

Damian was knocked out of his thoughts by the sound of harsh coughing. He placed his satchel on their small kitchen table and he wandered down to his basement. There, he saw his father, hard at work, like always.

"Dad, you need to rest. You can't keep doing this to yourself,"

"Doing what?" In that one sentence alone, Gerard Labarre coughed at least fifteen times. Damian sighed. Stubborn old man.

"Come on, Dad. It can wait until tomorrow,"

"No! I'm leaving for the convention tomorrow! I have to finish today, Son, you know that,"

Damian pursed his lips,

"You know what the doctor said. Don't overexert yourself,"

"It's not overexerting," his dad huffed, "I've been doing this for years, never been a problem before,"

"Yeah, well…" Damian trailed off. Before, the old man had Damian's sister- Lilith. But exactly one year ago, she was mauled to death by a pack of wolves. The old man was lucky he was only as injured as he was. Damian didn't need to say all of that, his father understood. The old man heaved a big sigh and set down his wrench.

"Fine," he said softly, "I'll just… go to bed, then,"

"I'm serious, Dad," Damian said, "Don't go tomorrow,"

The Frenchman waved his son off as he waddled up to his bed. Damian rolled his eyes.

The next morning, Damian woke up to a cold house. Feeling panic speed up the beating of his heart, he shoved the covers off his body. His father couldn't be… not after Damian just lost Lilith. He ran to his father's room, and halted in confusion. His father wasn't in his room, but everything was just as messy as his father usually left it. Getting an inkling of an idea on where his father went, Damian slowly went down to the basement, shivering the entire way. Halfway down, he lost feeling in his fingers and toes and the tips of his nose and ears. His breath puffed out in visible clouds. When he reached the bottom, he bit his bottom lip and shook his head in disbelief. His father's invention was missing; he had gone to the inventor's convention after all. Stubborn old man.