Ruining Rugs
Hundreds of tones of water crashing out of their wild river shape, tumbling down for hundreds of meters then finally crashing down on the gaunt rocks below.
It was the only way to go. The only way to be free. Even if it was for only a few seconds. But imagine how wonderful they would be. It would be like flying. Flying through water. Then it'd be all over.
The girl perched on the rock that jutted out over the falls, she made up her mind and without taking a breath- she jumped.
Count Bianchi was not in a good mood. Not in a good mood at all. For a start there where those letters. How he hated those letters. Those letters had been arriving for months. Years maybe. When you where as old as he was, you kind of lost count.
He couldn't say 'yes' that would be giving in. But then again he couldn't say 'no'. He needed that option if everything got to awful.
"Father," he had known his daughter was in the building and here she was. Dripping. Dripping muddy water all over his Persian rug. That rug was priceless, for goodness sake. It was an antique. Beautiful, intricately woven with rich colours. Now it was ruined. It would be impossible to get those nasty discoloured water marks out of it now.
"Eleonora. You are on my rug. Get off."
"Oh," she carelessly moved over to a bare patch of stone. She was so... Insolent... It had to be that mortal in her.
"Right," he snapped, she'd done it now. "I've had enough. Enough. Thats the third antique this week. That rug along with the vase. That vase was art. A Ming I tell you. And what did you do to it? Stuffed it with nature, twigs and ugly flowers. Its a vase for goodness sake. Not something to be filled with decorative floral arrangements. And the dinner table. Oak, King Arthur's Round table. Broken! Don't you ever think about the history that is behind those amazing artifacts?"
Eleonora suppressed a sigh. The worst thing about her fathers long, ranting speeches was the fact that he didn't have to pause for breath. He could go on for hours, only pausing when he actually wished her to reply. There was definitely better things to do than listen to her father moan on about the same thing for an age.
"Um, father?" she interrupted. "We didn't really need the table. We didn't ever use it anyway."
"That,"he hissed in infuriation. "Is besides the point. You have absolutely no appreciation. So I've had enough. You're going away to boarding school."
"Boarding school," Eleonora froze wondering if what her father was saying could be possibly true. "But... But... You cant be serious. I can't... I don't..."
She was losing an unknown battle and she knew it. Her fathers eyes gleamed.
"Boarding school. It does sound like a pleasing plan does it not? That was a rhetorical question by the way. Right. Your going this tomorrow. After we've been hunting."
Eleonora snarled. "And where are you exactly going to send me? I'm not even enrolled. I never went to primary school. I do not use maths. I only read and write because I taught myself. There is no way I can possibly attend a school."
"Hmmm," he grinned. "You can attend a school and you will. The school I have in mind is a little different from the ones that you have knowledge of. Oh, never worry about enrolling. They've been practically begging me for years, requesting your attendance. I'm sure it shall be fun."
Eleonora wished she could cry. She couldn't attend a school. Schools where for normal children. Children without problems. Without her sort of problems. What would those children say if they found out? They'd be horrified. Repulsed. Witlessly frightened.
"Father," she whispered. "Please."
He grinned evilly enjoying himself. "The train leaves soon. Unfortunately the facility is overseas so you shall have to leave... Oh tomorrow!"
"I wont go, you can't make me," Eleonora hissed.
"Oh," Count Bianchi was beginning to enjoy himself. "Oh, dear. I was so excited that you were to get an educated. What a shame. I am so dreadfully upset. So sad I can't convince you to go... Oh, wait... I can. But I'll be nice. How about a bargain."
"This is nothing about my education. You just want me out of here, thats all. Isn't it? You never cared."
"Come now," the Count wheedled. "This is one deal that you shall not want to miss. Just hear me out. Very nice terms too at that."
"What," Eleonora practically spat. "I can assure you there is nothing on earth that could possibly induce me to attend this school."
"Isn't there?" The Counts eyes sparked and Eleonora knew she was traveling uncharted waters. "Isn't there, now? Are you not interested in your mother?"
"Mother?" his daughter chocked out the words, shocked. She had asked at least a million times. Begged. Pleaded. Every time the nicest thing he had done was to change the subject. That had been when he was feeling kind and considerate. A rare mood for the Count. Usually he yelled. Or screamed. Or broke one of his stupid precious antiques. He loved those stupid thing fifty times more than he loved her. He didn't even care for her. Just felt obliged to look after her due to the fact that he was her father.
"Yes, your mother," he continued smoothly in that irritating way of his. "You wish to know about her of course. I will tell you everything. Just go to this school. Experiment if you might. One year. That is all. Then you may leave."
"Yes," the words tumbled out of her mouth. Her curiosity took over. "Yes, I'll go. Of course I'll go. Tell me."
"Hmmm..." the Count pretended to ponder, really exploring his new position of power. "Yes, this does seem fair, doesn't it? But I am hungry. So are you. You cannot possibly attend with those eyes of yours. Run of now and grab something to eat. Oh and I'm famished. Positively famished. I cannot tell you anything, I am that hungry."
Eleonora narrowed her eyes. "You are that hungry? Well, I shall take my leave now."
She turned on her heel. This was just a game to her father. A game where only he knew the rules.
As she exited out through the castle door she couldn't help sneering at her fathers extravagance. He was what he was yet chose to drown himself in old objects with absolutely no use what so ever. For goodness sake, he had to be older than half that junk. The stone castle adorned with the great tapestries and thick rugs. It was stupid, they didn't even need that rubbish. And he got so possessive and agitated. Maybe it would be good to get away from him for a while. But a school. A school of all things. It wasn't the fact that she had never experienced proper mortal company that bothered her. Despite her isolated life she knew plenty about the life of humans. She knew a Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano had a top speed of 330 km/h and did nought to a hundred in 3.7 seconds. Her secret, TV. She remembered the day she had found it with perfect clarity. Like she remembered any other day. The camper van that had that delightful man in it. After she had dealt with him she had felt the urge to explore. Then she had found it. That bizarre box. It had been portable. Small and light. 8 inch. That little square had taught her so much. It had produced four amazing channels. Her father had not approved. Of course. But she had kept it, delighted with its intelligence and entertaining attributes.
As she remembered that day she broke into a sprint racing to the boarder of the forest. The trees whipped past her, branches snapping harmlessly as they made fatal contact with her limbs. Then she froze. Listening. Trees swaying in the breeze. Leaves rustling. Small animals rooting around. The waterfall gushing its tonnes of iron hard water. But not the thing she was looking for. It was dark. Fine for her. She could make out every pebble. Every slight dent in the earth. But it was too dark for her prey. She scrambled up a pine and waited for morning. It could take weeks for the prey to wander her way. The creatures shied away from the forest, disturbed by the dark rumors that blemished its name. Tourists didn't know of these rumors and even though her country was different from the normal holidaying countries one may visit, it attracted enough attention. Writers seeking dark inspiration. Investors seeking inexpensive land. Or just people interested in traveling to a bizarre and black country just to be different. Why did humans do that? Seek to be different yet struggle so hard to fit in? It was just strange.
Slowly, slowly little pink streaks appeared over the horizon. Eleonora loved the sunrise. Every morning she'd climb a pine, perching on the very top branch just to watch the sky turn from night to day. How beautiful the sunrise was. How special. If she could own just one specific thing it would be the sunrise. Not the old junk her father hoarded. She would keep the sunrise. Everyday everyone would experience it for free, could marvel over its wonder. Yet she would smugly and secretly know it was hers. But it was impossible to own the sun and night combined. Sadly.
Soon the sky turned from peachy pink to a smugged blue.
Now was the time. A thrill gripped her as she swung down the tree. Now was her time! Her time to hunt. Slowly, taking careful silent steps she slid out of the cover of the forest. How delightful. Caravans in the little park. Wait caravans? Plural? That was unusual. And the caravans where different. Big roomy. Fancy. Shiny. Lots of them as well. Trailers too. Large posh cars. What? She raced through a short mental list looking for an answer. Just then, one of the caravan door handles clicked. She swiftly pulled herself into a shadow. A boy appeared. One small rather plump boy, yawning widely in the early morning light. Perfect. This would be more than easy.
She stepped out of the shadows into the light and began to sing softly.
The boy noticed and stared, his eyes wide.
"Hello," she smiled.
"He... Hey," the boy smiled blankly. "Where are you going?"
Eleonora had turned and began to stroll towards the forest.
"Wait," the plump boy called. "Hey! Come over here."
Eleonora changed her pace and began to daintily skip gaining speed. The boy was practically running. She reached the fringe of the forest and took one more skip into the darkness.
"Hey, hey," the boy puffed and skidded to an ungraceful halt beside her. "Um... Whats your name?"
"Eleonora Bianchi."
"Bianchi, eh," he was now trying to sound tough and in control. Hard for a rather small plump boy. "So who are you around here?"
Eleonora smiled. "I live here."
"Yeah right," the boy laughed a little to much for even a funny joke. "Who are you playing. I haven't seen you before."
"Playing?" Her brow crumpled. "Oh you mean acting. Are you shooting a movie here by any chance?"
"Yup," he laughed and put on an air as if he knew everything concerning the movie making process. "Cheap location, you know? And theres so many creepy legends around this place should make it a real seller. Did you here the story about the twins who where holidaying here with there parents? They went into the forest and never came out. Creepy, eh?"
"Yes," she smirked, the boy was trying to impress her. "Actually I did."
"How about the photographer? Disappeared leaving nothing but a raided trailer."
"Yes," she smiled. "Heared that one too."
"Oh," the boy was now sounding rather uncomfortable. Not quite understanding what she was getting at. "Are you acting the role Megan? I mean I thought the character was a little older but," despite feeling uncomfortable blushed. "You're so... Pretty..."
"Thank you," Eleonora accepted the compliment with a smile though she was getting rather bored with this boy, her venom began to flow, her retractable fangs began to extend . "Wait, did you hear the story about the little plumb boy who went missing when he was seduced into the forest?"
"No," the boys brow furrowed. He didn't know what she was getting at. He hadn't worked it out.
"Hmmm. She smiled again more invitingly. What a stupid boy. Slowly she bent her head. The boy leaned up and closed his eyes. Lips parted.
"How funny," she whispered. "But now you do."
She lowered her head and sunk her teeth into his neck.
Eleonora," her father raised an eyebrow as he heard her open the great oaken front door. "That was
quicker than I expected. But then again, you leave today. You are prepared?"
Eleonora entered the great hall where her father was splayed over a throne like chair, a thick piece of parchment in one hand peacock quill in the other.
"Father," his daughter flung a rather battered body down on the floor. "Heres your meal. A movie making group have arrived."
"Ah, perfect. Prey for a while then."
She strolled over to his side.
"What are you doing?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "If you must know I happen to be ordering your equipment and attire."
"Oh," she peeked over his shoulder, reading a list titled Madame Malken's Robes. "Dress robes?"
"Yes," he signed the parchment with a flourish. "You shall be attending social gatherings involving dances. You shall have to be probably dressed. I shall not have a daughter of mine adorned with second rate clothing. What if somebody happened to work out that we are related?"
"All right," she skipped to another list dropped on the floor. "Pets? May I have a pet?"
"A pet? You must be joking. You shall eat it or squash it. Then you shall just want another. There will be plenty of bats around. In a few months you shall begin to morph."
"Morph," she spoke the word with a little fear. Her father had explained boredly about morphing. Turning from mortal like creature to wolf, bat or some other dark creature at will. However the first transition could be painful.
"Yes morph. I am a bat. I suppose you shall be to. If you can morph."
"What do you mean?"
"I explained I would tell you about your mother and I shall keep my side of the bargain. "She wasn't like me..."
For once in his exsistance the Count trailed off, something dangerously like emotion flashed across.
"She was a mortal. Mostly. Her mother happened to be veela. A beautiful woman like creature. I had never met anyone quite like her before. But not just veela. Her father was a wizard. She was a witch. It seems to have infected you too," he remarked rather dryly. "That is why you can attend this school. You have magic."
He slipped of his throne and stretched over to the body discarded on the floor. He incline his head and began to suck, hungrily.
Eleonora watched. A thought of the boy slipped into her mind. Sure, he had been plump. A show off. Rather stupid. Yet he had a life. Maybe being in that trailer park had been his dream. To be a star or just to rub shoulders with famous actors. She had ended that dream. She had ended his life. Yet her body didn't regret its actions. Why was that? Maybe it was because she had to live to. But what type of life did a parasite lead? Hers, she supposed.
"Right," her father raised his head, his eyes changing from a thirsty, vicious crimson to a content azure. Just like hers. But they had differences. Her and him. Mirrors. Out of all the valuable antiques the castle sported only one mirror. A large gilded thing that lay propped up in one of the tarrunts. She remembered the day she had peeked into it. When her father had stood is front of it it reflect everything, everything but him. But when she looked into it it showed her faint outline. Like a picture taken by an unfocused camera on a foggy day.
There, a difference that separated his cruel, unemotional self from herself. Unfortunately it wasn't much.
"Your mother is dead," he remarked. "In case you where wondering. She died giving birth to you."
He chuckled and wiped one of his snowy hands over his blood stained lips.
"Oh, the mortals will show a tendency to stare at you. You look," he chuckled darkly again. "Different to them."
"Different?" Eleonora asked confused. The news of her mothers death didn't upset her. It figured. After all she couldn't have just left him. But looking unlike mortals?
She thought she looked just like them. After all she had two hands, two feet just like the ones on television and the campers.
"Hmmm," he smiled almost gloatingly. "They shall find you rather hypnotizing. You are different. Not just your changing eyes though. Remember to feed so they shall stay blue. The mortals will find you enchantingly perfect."
This unsettled Eleonora. She wished to fit in. Be like them so they wouldn't guess. She couldn't understand what her father meant.
"Well," he stretched and then returned to his throne. "Off you go. Your belongs that I have ordered shall arrive in due course. Go to the third tower. Find the statue of the Third Duke of Kent. Tell it to take you to Kings Cross Station. Platform nine and three quarters. Send me a bat when you arrive and, oh, then don't bother to send me anything else after that. If you want money theres some in the suit of armor on the second floor. The one with bird and sword coat of arms. It is filled with the currency you shall require. Now shoo. I need to rest and digest."
"Goodbye father."
Eleonora turned and reflected on the happenings of the last two weeks. She had been content with living her out her small, isolated exsistance with her father. Now she was traveling. To a school. An actual school. Plus, she was a witch. A witch veela cross... She hated the word her television categorized her as. It displayed shows about her kind. How funny it was. Mortals believed they where frightening, nightmarish myths. Mere legends. Yet they still created fictional shows featuring her kind for entertainment. It was so strange.
Finally, after extracting a large amount of large gold coins out of the suit of amour and placing the contents into a large bag she lept out of the window onto the third tower. She quickly slid inside found the Duke of Kent and followed her fathers instructions.