p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';" CHAPTER ONE/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"I struggled to push him away, but to no avail. He held onto me quite tightly, forcing me to look him in the eye. His smile showed his unnaturally white teeth, and as I looked closely at his incisors, I noticed with a gasp they were pointed and slightly longer than the rest. He leaned in to my neck, pulling back the neckline of my coat just a bit, so the soft skin above my collarbone was visible. "Camille," he whispered softly, and I cringed. "Don't call me that! You have no right-" "It'll be less painful this way." He said gently. He lowered his lips to my neck and I felt fleeting, but horrible pain, as though I had just been injured terribly. Through my fading vision I saw dark red blood dripping down my neck and staining my black trench coat, which I had worked for months at Guinevere's Diner to acquire. I was feeling dizzy. He let go of me, and I swayed unsteadily before crumpling on the cold, stone floor of the dark alleyway in which he had so rudely attacked me. The rain splashed down all around us, dripping into his perfectly gelled hair, and down my dress, and onto the ground, seeping into the drain. He turned around and walked away, without giving me a second glance. I noticed he had dropped something on the ground, but I couldn't quite make it out. As I struggled to make it out, I blacked out for good. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"A few hours later I came to, shifting uncomfortably. My mouth ached, and I ran my tongue under my teeth. I realized with a shock that my incisors, too, were slightly longer, and felt as if they had been sharpened, but I don't see how that would be possible. They seemed to have broken out of my gums, as they were bleeding profusely. I tried to swallow the blood, but it tasted very different than normal. It was the most luxurious, sweetest, yet salty liquid, and the taste could only be described as the most amazing thing to ever exist. I had to have some more. Realizing that my teeth now had a purpose, I held up my forearm and slashed two shallow cuts, very close together, one at a time, so the blood from both would bleed together. I hurriedly licked it up, not minding the dulled pain. I could barely feel it. The blood invigorated me as if I had been charged with electricity, thrumming through my bones and setting my nerves on fire. It was sweet, creamy even, but with a bitterness that made the whole experience alive, and tasted slightly of iron. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Suddenly someone was at my side, forcing my forearm away from my lips with a strength that couldn't be human, but I found I had the same strength, coming up from some well deep inside me. As I fought back, however, I was growing slightly weaker from loss of blood and they managed to pull my arm away. A girl and a boy, maybe 18 or 20 years old, more or less my age, were standing in front of me, the boy pulling me to my feet. He had dark blond hair, a bit on the messy side, and overwhelmingly beautiful grey eyes. His skin was very pale, as if he was one of the dead rather than the living. Personally, I wasn't sure which one I was myself. He bandaged my arm and picked me up, carrying me in his arms. "This is no way to treat a lady!" I said angrily, my voice smoother and more elegant than usual. I had little time to wonder why my voice had changed, as the boy walked quite fast and had put me into their cab. It was a sleek, black hearse-type car that might've been a 1919 Sayers Scovill Hearse. I pride myself on knowing all the old Victorian-type cars, and this happened to be one of them. "Where are we going?" I said harshly, more than a little confused. The girl turned around from the front seat and faced me, while simultaneously driving. I would be panicking, but honestly, I figured it wouldn't really matter if we crashed. Her eyes were a deep, depthless grey, impossible to read, the same as the boy's, and thick, silky brown hair fell over her shoulders in waves. Her skin was a creamy olive, not as pale as his. "We are heading to the Castle span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"le Royaume de la Mort. I am guessing you have many questions." She said, pronouncing the French perfectly, her voice rich and soft. The boy laughed quietly to himself, and the girl shot him a glare. He looked down, his grey eyes holding a hint of humor. "My name is Marcela, and the rude one is Edward." Edward looked me in the eyes and held out his hand for me to shake. "Hello." He said, his voice just as wonderful as hers, but deeper. "Your hair is quite astonishing; I haven't seen a redhead in a while." Edward said cheekily. I reached up to touch my hair self-consciously. It was a deep auburn color, and looked more dark red then carrot orange. "Thanks. What am I?" I said, and Marcela snickered at the straightforward question, showing the first hint of humor I had seen in her. "You're, um-" "Dead!" Edward interrupted, flashing me a grin. "A vampire, obviously, like us." Marcela said dryly, and continued driving. The belated shock hit me. The sharp teeth, the amazing blood, the strength, my voice, everything made sense. I was surprised to find I wasn't very upset, more confused. "But, my voice-" "We don't really know how to explain that; it might be a sort of a predator advantage, to make us more attractive to humans." I always wanted to be a murder. "And the blood?" I asked. "Well, you know vampires can't eat human food, right? It's kind of making a vampire insanely more attracted to humans, so they are forced to drink blood, making it the ultimate food for us." Marcela replied. /span/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"As we drove on the winding road up the side of the mountain, the Castle le Royaume de la Mort loomed on, a dark castle with winding turrets and spikes, twisted faces with various emotions topping each spire. We reached the drawbridge, and as it cranked down, granting us passage, I said, "Why the fancy castle, hearse, and drawbridge, and all the traditional spooky vampire stuff?" Edward leaned back and whispered, "We're vampires!" and laughed. Marcela rolled her eyes. "No, seriously, it's because it's just more fun that way, plus, wouldn't you live in a big spooky castle if you could? This was Marcela's grandfather's castle." My first thought was, cool! Then, no, why would I want to live here? Then, as I looked at the gigantic Castle le Royaume de la Mort, I realized that of course I would. It was beautiful, in a dark, captivating way. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"Once inside, Marcela stood next to me as Edward locked up the hearse. Inside the large wooden doors, with elaborately carved doorknockers, was a vast hall. It was tall, and wide, and had enough room for millions of people. In the middle of the cold, wooden, floor, there was a long dining table, big enough to seat forty people. At the back end of the table there was a large fireplace, with couches fancily done up in Victorian embroidery seated around it. In the left and right corners of the dining hall, there were two corridors, that led to what I would presume would be the bedrooms, library, offices, and various other rooms. Marcela smiled next to me. "C'mon, I will show you around." She said, and I smiled back, hoping I didn't seem too eager as a bubble of excitement burst in my chest. I didn't even think about him, the one who bit me, what he was doing, where he was… Leading me down the right corridor, Marcela opened the first door. Inside, there was a small bed, a desk, a shelf, and a bedside lamp. "These were the servant's rooms. There's about fifty of them." Marcela said, closing the door and walking farther down the hallway. Dimly lit lamps were posted on either side of the corridor, but they didn't do much to light the way apart from casting yellow light on the faded green wallpaper. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"About ten rooms and an unused kitchen later, we reached a wooden door with a black door knocker, and Marcela stopped. "This'll be your bedroom, for now." She said, stepping out of the way. "What?" I said confusedly. "I'm going back home, right?" I asked. She raised an eyebrow. "No, not for a while. There are some clothes in the drawer, you'll find them suitable." Marcela said pointedly, and opened the door, gesturing for me to enter./span/p
p style="text-align: left;" /p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"The room was circular, and in the middle of it there was a large Queen-sized bed, draped in a quilt, with different designs on each square. There were two drawer sets on the left side of the room, and they were painted a sparkling black that suited the castle's rich atmosphere. The window behind the bed that stretched up to the ceiling revealed the forest of trees outside, the pattering rain, and the darkened sky with only the light of the moon. A black chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting soft yellow light on Marcela and myself, illuminating her mahogany hair. "Do you like it?" Marcela asked, her fingers resting on the doorknob. "It's wonderful." I said excitedly. "I'll give you some time to settle in then, and you might want to ask Rose to assist you. She'll be your maidservant. Rose!" Marcela said, and then turned around to call for my maid. I've never had a maid before, so this should be interesting. "I hope it's not too much to ask…" I said. "Oh, don't worry; there is enough staff to go around." Marcela said briskly. Marcela walked out of the room and down the corridor, and I couldn't help but admire her swift, graceful, walk, as though she were gliding on the smoothest of ice. Her hips swished and she never once lost her balance, even in those tall heels and long dress. I wonder if I'll ever get that graceful, now that I'm a… vampire. The word feels strange on my tongue. It was never really used in London, the busy, bustling town full of cabbies, yelling people, and loud sirens. You never really had a chance to think there, and if you did, you couldn't hear yourself. But here, it was silent, so silent that all you could make out was the silent, steady thrum of the boiler in the other room, and the rustling of the trees. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"I struggled to push him away, but to no avail. He held onto me quite tightly, forcing me to look him in the eye. His smile showed his unnaturally white teeth, and as I looked closely at his incisors, I noticed with a gasp they were pointed and slightly longer than the rest. He leaned in to my neck, pulling back the neckline of my coat just a bit, so the soft skin above my collarbone was visible. "Camille," he whispered softly, and I cringed. "Don't call me that! You have no right-" "It'll be less painful this way." He said gently. He lowered his lips to my neck and I felt fleeting, but horrible pain, as though I had just been injured terribly. Through my fading vision I saw dark red blood dripping down my neck and staining my black trench coat, which I had worked for months at Guinevere's Diner to acquire. I was feeling dizzy. He let go of me, and I swayed unsteadily before crumpling on the cold, stone floor of the dark alleyway in which he had so rudely attacked me. The rain splashed down all around us, dripping into his perfectly gelled hair, and down my dress, and onto the ground, seeping into the drain. He turned around and walked away, without giving me a second glance. I noticed he had dropped something on the ground, but I couldn't quite make it out. As I struggled to make it out, I blacked out for good. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"A few hours later I came to, shifting uncomfortably. My mouth ached, and I ran my tongue under my teeth. I realized with a shock that my incisors, too, were slightly longer, and felt as if they had been sharpened, but I don't see how that would be possible. They seemed to have broken out of my gums, as they were bleeding profusely. I tried to swallow the blood, but it tasted very different than normal. It was the most luxurious, sweetest, yet salty liquid, and the taste could only be described as the most amazing thing to ever exist. I had to have some more. Realizing that my teeth now had a purpose, I held up my forearm and slashed two shallow cuts, very close together, one at a time, so the blood from both would bleed together. I hurriedly licked it up, not minding the dulled pain. I could barely feel it. The blood invigorated me as if I had been charged with electricity, thrumming through my bones and setting my nerves on fire. It was sweet, creamy even, but with a bitterness that made the whole experience alive, and tasted slightly of iron. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Suddenly someone was at my side, forcing my forearm away from my lips with a strength that couldn't be human, but I found I had the same strength, coming up from some well deep inside me. As I fought back, however, I was growing slightly weaker from loss of blood and they managed to pull my arm away. A girl and a boy, maybe 18 or 20 years old, more or less my age, were standing in front of me, the boy pulling me to my feet. He had dark blond hair, a bit on the messy side, and overwhelmingly beautiful grey eyes. His skin was very pale, as if he was one of the dead rather than the living. Personally, I wasn't sure which one I was myself. He bandaged my arm and picked me up, carrying me in his arms. "This is no way to treat a lady!" I said angrily, my voice smoother and more elegant than usual. I had little time to wonder why my voice had changed, as the boy walked quite fast and had put me into their cab. It was a sleek, black hearse-type car that might've been a 1919 Sayers Scovill Hearse. I pride myself on knowing all the old Victorian-type cars, and this happened to be one of them. "Where are we going?" I said harshly, more than a little confused. The girl turned around from the front seat and faced me, while simultaneously driving. I would be panicking, but honestly, I figured it wouldn't really matter if we crashed. Her eyes were a deep, depthless grey, impossible to read, the same as the boy's, and thick, silky brown hair fell over her shoulders in waves. Her skin was a creamy olive, not as pale as his. "We are heading to the Castle span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"le Royaume de la Mort. I am guessing you have many questions." She said, pronouncing the French perfectly, her voice rich and soft. The boy laughed quietly to himself, and the girl shot him a glare. He looked down, his grey eyes holding a hint of humor. "My name is Marcela, and the rude one is Edward." Edward looked me in the eyes and held out his hand for me to shake. "Hello." He said, his voice just as wonderful as hers, but deeper. "Your hair is quite astonishing; I haven't seen a redhead in a while." Edward said cheekily. I reached up to touch my hair self-consciously. It was a deep auburn color, and looked more dark red then carrot orange. "Thanks. What am I?" I said, and Marcela snickered at the straightforward question, showing the first hint of humor I had seen in her. "You're, um-" "Dead!" Edward interrupted, flashing me a grin. "A vampire, obviously, like us." Marcela said dryly, and continued driving. The belated shock hit me. The sharp teeth, the amazing blood, the strength, my voice, everything made sense. I was surprised to find I wasn't very upset, more confused. "But, my voice-" "We don't really know how to explain that; it might be a sort of a predator advantage, to make us more attractive to humans." I always wanted to be a murder. "And the blood?" I asked. "Well, you know vampires can't eat human food, right? It's kind of making a vampire insanely more attracted to humans, so they are forced to drink blood, making it the ultimate food for us." Marcela replied. /span/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"As we drove on the winding road up the side of the mountain, the Castle le Royaume de la Mort loomed on, a dark castle with winding turrets and spikes, twisted faces with various emotions topping each spire. We reached the drawbridge, and as it cranked down, granting us passage, I said, "Why the fancy castle, hearse, and drawbridge, and all the traditional spooky vampire stuff?" Edward leaned back and whispered, "We're vampires!" and laughed. Marcela rolled her eyes. "No, seriously, it's because it's just more fun that way, plus, wouldn't you live in a big spooky castle if you could? This was Marcela's grandfather's castle." My first thought was, cool! Then, no, why would I want to live here? Then, as I looked at the gigantic Castle le Royaume de la Mort, I realized that of course I would. It was beautiful, in a dark, captivating way. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"Once inside, Marcela stood next to me as Edward locked up the hearse. Inside the large wooden doors, with elaborately carved doorknockers, was a vast hall. It was tall, and wide, and had enough room for millions of people. In the middle of the cold, wooden, floor, there was a long dining table, big enough to seat forty people. At the back end of the table there was a large fireplace, with couches fancily done up in Victorian embroidery seated around it. In the left and right corners of the dining hall, there were two corridors, that led to what I would presume would be the bedrooms, library, offices, and various other rooms. Marcela smiled next to me. "C'mon, I will show you around." She said, and I smiled back, hoping I didn't seem too eager as a bubble of excitement burst in my chest. I didn't even think about him, the one who bit me, what he was doing, where he was… Leading me down the right corridor, Marcela opened the first door. Inside, there was a small bed, a desk, a shelf, and a bedside lamp. "These were the servant's rooms. There's about fifty of them." Marcela said, closing the door and walking farther down the hallway. Dimly lit lamps were posted on either side of the corridor, but they didn't do much to light the way apart from casting yellow light on the faded green wallpaper. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"About ten rooms and an unused kitchen later, we reached a wooden door with a black door knocker, and Marcela stopped. "This'll be your bedroom, for now." She said, stepping out of the way. "What?" I said confusedly. "I'm going back home, right?" I asked. She raised an eyebrow. "No, not for a while. There are some clothes in the drawer, you'll find them suitable." Marcela said pointedly, and opened the door, gesturing for me to enter./span/p
p style="text-align: left;" /p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Gabriola; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"The room was circular, and in the middle of it there was a large Queen-sized bed, draped in a quilt, with different designs on each square. There were two drawer sets on the left side of the room, and they were painted a sparkling black that suited the castle's rich atmosphere. The window behind the bed that stretched up to the ceiling revealed the forest of trees outside, the pattering rain, and the darkened sky with only the light of the moon. A black chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting soft yellow light on Marcela and myself, illuminating her mahogany hair. "Do you like it?" Marcela asked, her fingers resting on the doorknob. "It's wonderful." I said excitedly. "I'll give you some time to settle in then, and you might want to ask Rose to assist you. She'll be your maidservant. Rose!" Marcela said, and then turned around to call for my maid. I've never had a maid before, so this should be interesting. "I hope it's not too much to ask…" I said. "Oh, don't worry; there is enough staff to go around." Marcela said briskly. Marcela walked out of the room and down the corridor, and I couldn't help but admire her swift, graceful, walk, as though she were gliding on the smoothest of ice. Her hips swished and she never once lost her balance, even in those tall heels and long dress. I wonder if I'll ever get that graceful, now that I'm a… vampire. The word feels strange on my tongue. It was never really used in London, the busy, bustling town full of cabbies, yelling people, and loud sirens. You never really had a chance to think there, and if you did, you couldn't hear yourself. But here, it was silent, so silent that all you could make out was the silent, steady thrum of the boiler in the other room, and the rustling of the trees. /span/p