Not A Creature Was Stirring
A/N: A Christmas one-shot that turned out a lot longer (and darker) than I was planning. Enjoy!
Theresa Golding stared into the fire morosely. She wasn't sure why she was sad, exactly; it was more that she wasn't as happy as she knew she ought to be, which in turn made her even more miserable.
Behind her, her sisters were prancing around the room, lighting candles and tying bunches of mistletoe and holly – preparing for Christmas. A small voice in her head asked why she didn't join in, laugh and dance with the others. She supposed it was because there was something wrong with her. She'd never been much good at having fun.
Since Tess's mother had died of scrofula, she had, by necessity, become the substitute mother. It had been hard after the War. Their family had been one of the lucky ones in Louisiana – most families had lost everything when the slaves rebelled. Their family had kept the slaves on as servants, but with bad grace; Tess's father considered the amount of money they charged to be exorbitant.
It wasn't as if they could do without them, though. Tess was the eldest, yet she could barely cook and could hardly clean a twenty-room mansion. So the servants would stay, expensive or no, and life would go on; but seemingly without father.
Her father's nerves had been terrible since he had returned from the War; he had barely talked for the past year and seemed to walk around in a frightening world of his own, where guns still rang out and people still screamed. Tess had prayed to Jesus every night since he returned that he would get better, but it seemed He wasn't listening.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
"Not now, Sally," she said, without turning her eyes from the flames. Sally, who had been standing behind her with an apple ready to throw, pouted.
"How can you do that?" her sister asked.
"Do what?"
"You know when I'm about to do something. All the time." She giggled. "Maybe you're a witch."
Tess did turn around then, and looked up into the seven-year-old's large brown eyes. She smiled.
"Yes," she growled, "I'm a witch, and I'm going to eat you!"
-o-o-o-
Jasper Whitlock was happy. He couldn't help it, really – it was Christmas Eve and the small town of Spartanburg, South Carolina, was full of unchecked human emotion and the smell of cooking. The latter had no bearing on Jasper's state of mind – indeed, it rather disgusted him, but happiness, he had found, was quite contagious.
Marie, who walked beside him, was perhaps not quite so elated. The darkhaired vampire wore an expression that suggested deep disdain, if not outright disgust.
"Why must we hunt like rats in this filthy reeking town? We should have control of the whole state by now, but instead…"
Not desiring conflict, Jasper sent out a wave of calm and content. Marie shot an irate glare at him.
"Stop, Whitlock. I have no patience for your antics tonight."
He sighed. "Where are we hunting tonight?" he asked, knowing the answer but eager to change the subject.
"Anywhere we can."
-o-o-o-
Alice, the rotund cook, bustled in.
"We have no 'taters, Mr Golding," she said, addressing Tess' father, who was currently sitting in an armchair and staring into space.
"Mister Golding!" she shouted, and the man started suddenly and twisted around, seeming to relax when he saw that it was only Alice.
The cook continued in a slightly quieter tone. "We'll have to go get some more, Mister." Her father nodded weakly and returned to his trance-like state.
Sally bounced up, dark hair everywhere and an endearing grin on her face. The cook had a soft spot for the youngest child, and Sally knew how to exploit it.
"Alice, can I come with you? Please? It is Christmas, after all." Alice gave her an indulgent smile, but turned again to her father.
"You don't mind, do you, sir?" she asked.
For a time Mr. Golding said nothing, and it seemed as if he hadn't heard the question at all. But he did reply, eventually; his voice sounded quiet and scratchy, as if it hadn't been used very often. Which, as a matter of fact, it hadn't.
"She may go, but one of the older ones must go with her. Does Belinda or Teresa wish to go?"
Belinda was wrapping a present and seemed to be making a highly secretive (if somewhat messy) job of it. She paused for a moment to shake her head. Teresa shrugged and rose from her seat by the fire. She was still rather tired from chasing Sally around the house, but she had no particular need or desire to stay inside.
It was a short walk to the shops - barely a ten-minute stroll – but the cold made it feel much longer. Snowflakes fell lazily, sticking to the fabric of their thick coats and melting where they touched the skin. Sally danced around, sticking out her tongue so that she could taste the small white flakes. Tess chastised her lightly, laughing.
"It's only water, silly."
"It can't be. It's cold, and it's white." Sally spoke with the assurance of a child at an age where one knows oneself to be always right, always, on every subject in the reach of man's knowledge.
Tess giggled, but said nothing.
The shops were brightly lit, despite the hour, and were festooned with decorations for the holiday season. There was a line of people inside the grocer, and both Tess and Sally soon tired of waiting quietly.
"Miss Alice, may we please go and play in the snow?" Tess asked politely, and Sally gazed up at the cook adoringly.
Alice hummed and hawed for a while. Mister Golding probably wouldn't approve, but he seldom approved of anything since the War. And after all, what harm could it do, really?
"Awright," she said, "But don't be goin' too far–" she stopped abruptly. The two girls had already raced off to play in the snow.
-o-o-o-
Jasper's good mood was fast wearing off as his patience, both with his hunting partner and his prey, wore thin.
Marie had kept up a steady diatribe against Christmas, humans, the South, rival covens and himself for the past two hours. Jasper would be surprised if they caught anything tonight; any human in the area would be able to feel the hot air she was spouting from half a mile away.
With or without Marie, hunting was going to be difficult. Jasper would have expected it to be an easy task tonight, as half the town seemed to be out on the street. The problem was that the humans tended to congregate together, making it difficult to select one victim.
"We could hunt later," he suggested, "Pick out men who are leaving the saloon late."
His partner, predictably, responded with a snarl. "I won't wait that long. And besides, I hate the taste of alcohol in the blood."
They had, in the course of this brief conversation, wandered into a small park a little way from the main stretch of stalls. And out of the corner of his eye, Jasper caught sight of –
"What about them?" asked Marie softly.
-o-o-o-
The two girls capered towards the park. Sally skipped along merrily, but Tessa began to feel the lethargy and sadness of before returning. She made an effort to be happy, to play and dodge the snowballs that her sister pelted at her, but her heart wasn't in it; even Sally began to sense it after a while, and paused.
"You're upset," she stated bluntly. She seemed put out and rather offended, and Tess found herself feeling guilty, although she wasn't exactly sure why. Sally threw a reproachful snowball at her and pouted, evidently disappointed in her sister's lack of Christmas spirit.
"You should – "
Sally never got to finish her sentence. Tess stiffened and grabbed her, holding her close.
"Someone's coming." She trembled, staring around in the dark to see who was behind them. Sally wriggled in her arms, protesting. For what could have been ten seconds, ten hours or anything in between, they stood.
The first she saw of him was a gleam of skin. Chalk white; no, whiter than that, if that were possible; faultless, chiselled features; perfectly tousled blond hair. He could for all the world have been an innocent young man out for an evening stroll, but there was something about him that instinctively terrified and repelled her, something she didn't understand until the moonlight hit his deep burgundy eyes.
She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. A woman appeared silently beside the man, a woman with the same ivory skin but whose hair and features (as beautiful as her partner's) suggested Native background. Her voice, sweet and musical, contrasted oddly with her words – words that rooted Tess to the spot and froze her heart.
"Kill them quickly."
But the man was staring at Tess curiously. His burgundy eyes held her brown ones until she shuddered and twisted away, putting herself between the two beings (for she felt sure that they were not human) and her sister.
The blond man spoke.
"You can have the little one," he said to the woman beside him "but there's something about the older one." He turned to her. "How did you know we were there?"
"I felt it," she replied, quailing. "And you can't do anything t-to us – Alice will be coming…I mean, she knows…" Her voice tailed off as she realised the uselessness of what she was saying. Alice didn't know where they were and in any case would not be looking for them for a while; she was completely at the mercy of these beautiful, evil creatures.
The man appeared to be thinking along the same lines. He turned once more to his partner.
"You take the little one while I change this one. She'll be valuable. Come with me, miss." The last part was addressed to Tess, who nevertheless stayed resolutely still. The man sighed.
And then the word flipped.
She was moving, moving faster than she'd ever moved before. It was as if she was faster than the wind, and she felt a thrill of terror beyond any she'd experienced that night. She heard, as if from a long way off, a gut-wrenching scream and knew, without a doubt, that it was her sister. She screamed too, a long eerie wail that pierced the hearts of villagers for miles around.
She screamed, and then all went back.
-o-o-o-
If Jasper had a heart, it would have broken then. He'd killed hundreds, would kill perhaps thousands in his life, and every time he felt the terror, the pain of his victims. But what else was there? Rebel, and have your immortal lifespan cut short to mere days? And if, by some miracle, he managed to kill Marie, what then? There was no way of escaping his thirst – he would simply be thirsty, and alone.
He summoned up all his self-control as he bit into the flesh. Marie was better at changing humans, but she was feeding now and waiting for her to finish was out of the question.
The girl's blood seemed weak, as if she were close to death. Jasper gave a wry smile as he withdrew his teeth – frightened to death: what a way to die.
Marie would return soon, full of fresh blood, and they would hunt again, for him. The girl would join the coven and, in all likelihood, die within a fortnight.
And then the sun would rise, and Christmas Day would come.