Disclaimer:
I do not own any characters in Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. I do however own my very own character in the story (her name will be disclosed in later chapters).
Loud yells came from inside the pub echoed - the local drunks fixing their addictions. Fortunately for the nobleman at the bar, all sounds were beginning to drown out as the burning liquids continued to pour down his throat. A Mr. Henry Sturges flagged down the bar keep once more, demanding one last drink for the night. A caramel colored liquid filled the small glass once more, instantly being drained into his esophagus. "A man only drinks like that when he's about to kiss a girl or kill a man." Henry's dark eyes traveled to the light voice aimed toward his person, an agitated expression upon his face. His mind raced with clever comments to retort back to the whore, but no sound exited his mouth. "So which is it?" The dark haired woman rested her elbow against the counter, a seductive grin. It seemed her light blue eyes were looking through him; as if she already knew the answer to the question she had asked. Without answering, Henry turned on his heel and headed out the door.
The cool spring breeze hit the nobleman hard as he stumbled onto the street. Due to the alcohol consumption it had taken him a brief moment to remember how to walk, but once his mind finally caught up his body was moving quickly. It was a cold and quiet night with only the stars illuminating his path, but that didn't stop the determined man. He was on a mission, a long and overdue mission. Though, while he traveled intoxicated toward his desired destination, a pair of eyes followed him in the dark. No matter which way he turned or how fast his pace was, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched out of his delusional mind.
Stopping in his tracks, the man ran a tired hand over his face. That's when he heard them – light footsteps following behind him. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, the nobleman felt the cold texture of his pocketknife. As the footsteps reached a closer proximity, Henry lifted it over his head with a yell. Surprisingly enough the nobleman was greeted by a pair of frightened blue eyes, the very same from the bar. Quickly pulling the weapon away from her, Henry let out a sigh of relief. "What are you doing?" he inquired angrily. "You can get yourself killed out here." The woman put down her hands realizing he wasn't going to hurt her, but instead of apologizing for scaring him or saying anything that would answer his question, the woman simply stared at the nobleman. A look of curiosity in her eyes and a smile of approval, the dark haired woman began walking backward into the night. Her actions confused Henry but the thought didn't dwell much longer – he had some where to be.
-X- -X- -X-
It wasn't long before Henry reached his destination. Watching the house closely, he kept a distance and hid in the shadows for no one's eyes to speculate. The moon shone high overhead and the wind stirred, causing the tops of the tall trees to rustle in the night. It was a normal evening except for one thing – Henry was about to commit the most unforgivable act. With his knife hidden securely in his inner coat pocket, his brown eyes watched carefully as the candlelight in the house was blown. Almost instantly Henry was on his feet, maneuvering his way to the small cottage. Stopping just before getting to the door, his eyes scanned his surroundings as he felt eyes watching him once again. Hearing a sound from inside the house brought the nobleman back to reality; he opened the unlocked door.
The little cottage smelled of alcohol and blown candle; a typical night for its resident. Since the death of his wife, nights seemed lonely in which brought whores. Giggling came from the other room as Henry slowly made his way through the home, his knife high above his head. The nobleman hadn't anticipated another person being invited, but whatever it took to continue with the plan he was going to do. "Don't be shy sweetheart." Henry's face scrunched up as he heard the very obvious sounds of play. As much as he didn't want to include the innocent woman, Henry refused to listen to the two during their private act. Henry lunged forward throwing his body against the wooden barrier, his weapon still high above his head. The woman screamed in fright while the man merely rolled his eyes at the nobleman with annoyance. "All this time watching me and now you decide to attack? Typical." Henry stared, puzzled by his words. "What? Did you think you were hiding very well?" the man asked with an amused smirk. "Sorry to tell you otherwise, son, but in these parts it's very easy to tell when something is out of place." As he spoke, Henry's arm lowered and the woman ran out of the home, causing the man quite a bit of frustration. Getting to his feet, the man fixed his brown slacks before looking to the stunned nobleman. "Well? If you came to kill me then do it already." Snapping back to reality, Henry's disappointed thoughts quickly vanished from his mind and he once again raised the knife over his head and charged. Seeing the silver glint, he immediately stopped in his tracks and stared straight down the barrel of the gun. "You never were smart, boy. Makes me ashamed to say I'm your father." Next thing Henry knew, something hit him hard and his world was swallowed by darkness.
-X- -X- -X-
They say before you die your life flashes before your eyes. Memories of everything that had occurred briefly over took your mind and then darkness. Heaven, Hell – everyone had their own opinions about them, but many believed they'd either go to paradise or burn in an eternal fire. Henry Sturges believed he was a dead man and he expected to smell the awful scent of flesh burning. But as consciousness regained, the nobleman kept his eyes closed and continued laying in what he assumed was a bed. Sounds of heels clicking on a wooden floor echoed in Henry's ears, but he refused to reveal he was awake. He didn't understand; his father had a gun pointed to his head and pulled the trigger – how was he still alive? Hearing a door close, he began listening to his surroundings to confirm he wasn't mistaken, that he was indeed dead, but the only sounds were the harmonic chirping of the birds outside. Pain then began coursing through his body – a very sharp pain in his lower abdomen. Feeling as if a knife was being inserted into his skin, Henry decided to open his eyes. Instead of seeing blood like he anticipated, a bandage resided and stretched the entire way around his waist. The mere thought of sitting up caused him more pain, but he needed to know what had happened – why was he bandaged and lying in someone else's bed. In one swift movement, Henry was up; the sound of his groan muffled behind his closed lips. With just enough time to catch his breath, the nobleman swung his legs over the bed and got to his feet. The room was empty besides the normal bed, dresser, and chair. The walls were painted a light blue with gold trimmings at the bottom. It was a guest bedroom that he was sure of.
With each step he took it was as if pain was shot down into each foot. And due to his condition, it took the man a little while to reach the door. Pure diamond took place of the door knob and the sun hitting the jewel created a very interesting pattern against the door. Grabbing hold of the diamond, stopping the sun's projection, Henry gently and quietly turned the knob. The nobleman wasn't sure what was waiting for him on the other side of the wooden barrier, but what he saw was not expected. The first feature that caught his eye was the light blue painted walls, like the ones in the room behind him. Sunlight poured in through the windows giving no use for the candles beneath them. His nostrils were also welcomed with the sweet aroma of food; he was starving. Before moving forward, Henry grabbed the candelabrum located on a decorative table – he needed something to protect himself with just in case. But as he neared the staircase, confusion began to overtake all other emotions. A beautiful singing voice could be clearly heard from the lower level – a women's voice. Though he couldn't understand what was being sung, her voice was filled with sorrow. The emotion in her voice caused Henry to move slower down the stairs but it also made him wonder why the woman was saddened.
Touching his bare foot to the hard wood floor, the nobleman continued holding the candelabrum over his head, mentally preparing for an attack. But while he investigated the lower level, Henry realized there was no one else in the house; just the woman and him. Any other time the nobleman would have taken this opportunity to persuade the well voiced woman into going to bed with him, but he was more concerned with how and why he was in the unfamiliar house.
In one quick movement Henry rested his back against the wall next to where the woman resided. This, he guessed, was where she was cooking since the smell of eggs grew stronger. There wasn't really a plan in his mind for what his next move would be. Previously Henry expected a group of men waiting for him – hence the choice of weapon in his grasp. Never would he have figured a woman would be waiting for him. Was she dangerous? Did she live alone? All were questions he made a mental note to ask, but before he could decide his next move to attack, the woman's song ended. Silence filled the house for what seemed like hours; the only noise heard was the faint sizzling of food. "I had hoped we could have a civil discussion upon your wake, Mr. Sturges. But if you insist on striking a poor woman, I might have to warn you first." Her sudden acknowledgement startled the nobleman but it wasn't unexpected. He was in her home after all. What intrigued him the most was her accent; she wasn't from Britain. Averting his gaze to the candelabrum, he silently contemplated on its necessity. Just as he was about to drop the gold candle holder, he remembered her warning. Gripping it tight, Henry turned his head toward the doorway.
"Warn me about what?" he responded, his own accent thick and dipping in curiosity. Henry expected the woman to hesitate or even to take a moment before answering. But she was quick in her response, stating his weapon didn't compare to hers. The nobleman guessed the woman had a firearm to protect her while her husband was out, leaving her correct in her statement. Dropping his weapon on the ground, Henry moved so he was looking into the kitchen. "You." With just one glance, Henry instantly recognized the woman; the whore from the previous night. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as her light blue eyes noticed the spark of recognition in his. "What did you do? Follow me?" Henry asked, a little more aggressive than he wanted. By this time Henry was standing in the doorway, fully exposing himself to her. Though he was wearing his now blood stained pants, Henry's skin felt every slight breeze that drifted his way.
The woman chose to ignore the nobleman's curious questions and instead set the table for her guest. While she gracefully moved through the small kitchen, Henry quickly moved his eyes around the room, inspecting it. There was no weapon set on the counters, nothing that was quicker than his. The kitchen's colors matched the rest of the house with a splash of yellow flowers along the trimmings. A window, which allowed more of the sun's rays to enter in more than any other room, was in the middle of the wall above the sink. And in front of the sink sat the woman. The table was only set for one person which caused Henry's brow to rise in suspicion. "Come and sit," the dark haired woman beckoned as she flattened her dress. "We need to talk."
Author's Note:
It would be amazing if someone, anyone (or everyone who reads) could take the time, the one minute, to inform me of what you thought? I would like to know if I should continue with this story or not. Please review; I'd greatly appreciate the help! Thanks so much for taking the time to read this!