A/N: Okay, okay, I know it says on my profile that I am currently engrossed in an original story that I'm planning to publish, but this caught my attention somehow and these pages just seemed to write themselves. I know my other stories are on a little bit of a hiatus, but it's simply because the shows are, too. It's how my frame of mind works regarding FF, I suppose. Anyway, I was looking at OC's for Godric and I just couldn't stand the typical approaches, I guess. Not that I think my OC is all that great—she really isn't—but I wanted to test something else out. I might continue this if I get any reviews or positive responses.
Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood.
One
"Tell me this isn't what I think it is," Charlotte deadpanned. Her eyes, scrunched and scrutinizing, were cast in dark shadows and the angles of her jaw glowed under the multi-colored light dancing above her head. Music throbbed through the air with a horribly retro beat. A line of people flowed horizontally in front of her until it curved behind a corner and the faces disappeared. The swell of excitement that had electrified her heart died in a single beat. No, she thought, this cannot be how I'm spending my Friday night.
Beside her, Andie rolled her eyes playfully. "Char, it's a club. You said you wanted to have fun, didn't you?" She gave Charlotte a cheeky grin as she rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, looking very much like a child trying to persuade an adult.
There was no arguing that. Midterms had been a bitch and Charlotte needed a carefree night with her best friend. However, she had not intended to spend it at a club of all places.
"I prefer to remember having fun," Charlotte mumbled cynically, turning away from the glowing lights of Bites, the not-so-creatively named establishment.
"Who says you can't go to a club just to dance? I promise I won't make you do shots." Andie flashed a pair of puppy eyes.
Oh God, Charlotte thought, closing her eyes with a sigh. I'm going to hell.
Only a half-hour passed before Andie had downed three shots and was urging Charlotte to join her, by way of using their specially procured fake-I.D.'s. Andie's speech was becoming exponentially slurred with each passing minute—she never could hold her liquor. Charlotte stuck to her side like glue, rejecting each man that tried to make a pass at Andie, who seemed full of bubbling laughter and alluring smiles.
The night couldn't have gotten any worse. Which is the damning thought that always makes something worse happen, of course.
Charlotte's head was swimming an hour later. There were so many smells—cigarette smoke, that from the fog machine, people. The music was far too loud on her already maxed-out brain and her eyes burned with fatigue. A couple sitting next to them was drinking a bottle of true blood, and the realistic color of the liquid made her stomach churn. Checking Andie, she wondered if she could slip outside for a minute to grab some fresh air and gather her bearings.
"Excuse me," she half-shouted over the music to the bartender. He had been tending to them all night, and although he had made several flirty comments to Andie as well, seemed much more gentlemanlike than the pigs they were otherwise surrounded by. His hand reached to pour another drink, but Charlotte shook her head. "I'm going to be gone for just a minute. Don't let her leave, okay?" The man nodded, his gaze sliding over to Andie, who was chatting up some guy in a cowboy hat. Reassured by this, Charlotte told Andie of her desire to slip out for a moment before stepping away.
When the wind met Charlotte's cheek, she sighed in content and rubbed at her head. Sometimes Andie could be a little much, but then again, they'd been friends since high school. This was hardly any different than those times they had gone to all those keggers; Charlotte had only gone to be the designated driver. It's not that partying wasn't her thing. She was just getting too little sleep for it, lately. There was too much pressure at school and at work.
Upon reentering the club, she found herself in a better temperament and wellbeing. The place was absolutely packed, which was to be expected on a Friday night. People were everywhere, quite literally. She had to push past sweaty limbs to reach the bar again.
A spurt of panic charged through her heart after she scanned the bar's occupants no less than three times and came up empty of Andie. She checked once more in haste to be certain, but there was still no sign of her maple-haired friend. Striding up to the bar, she leaned forward and motioned to catch the bartender's attention.
"Where did my friend go?" Her voice was pitchy and erratic; her grip on the smooth surface of the bar was fierce. This wouldn't be the first time Andie vanished with some guy. And it probably wouldn't be the last. This couldn't happen tonight, though. They had to work tomorrow.
The bartender shrugged and nodded off towards the VIP section. "She wandered over there a few minutes ago."
"Did you see who she was with?"
"The man she was talking with," he said. "With the black cowboy hat. I'm 'fraid that's all I got."
It would have to be enough. Charlotte nodded at him and threaded her way through the crowd, her eyes perusing over any face in her line of sight. Red velvet ropes sectioned off the VIP area from the dance floor. Neon colored furniture adorned this section, filled with richly dressed people. Charlotte didn't realize that a bouncer was approaching her rigidly until he was standing before her.
"I'm gonna have to ask you to move," he said.
Charlotte stood on her tiptoes to peek over his shoulder. "I'm just looking for my friend. I'm not staying."
The bouncer raised an eyebrow—this wasn't the first time he had heard that story. Charlotte gave him a sincere imploring look. "Really," she said. "She has sort of light-brown hair, she's wearing a purple dress—there she is!" When her eyes landed on the girl in question, Charlotte pointed at her, relieved. She was wrapped up in some guys arms as he kissed her neck passionately. Typical Andie.
The bouncer glanced over at Andie and nodded curtly, allowing Charlotte through.
She didn't recognize any of the people Andie was sitting with. She didn't even realize what was truly happening to her friend until she stepped closer.
The lighting was especially dim here, the music somehow louder. Or maybe it was the pounding of Charlotte's heart. Discarded, full bottles of Trublood sat upon a small oval coffee table sitting just before the large couch. The man in the cowboy hat who Charlotte had thought to be kissing Andie wasn't actually kissing her—he was biting her.
Charlotte moved without thinking. She stepped up to him and shoved at his chest, making him pull back from Andie's neck with a dumbfounded look. When his eyes landed on Charlotte and scanned her body, a smirk overtook his blood-stained lips. It colored his teeth a sick, gory red.
"Well, darlin', if you wanted to join you only had to ask," he drawled.
Charlotte didn't realize they had spectators until she heard light, silvery laughing from the group beside him. As if this wasn't unnerving enough, she glanced over to find all eyes on her, waiting keenly for her next move. She could see the predators within them calculating and plotting.
Charlotte swallowed hard. She kept her shoulders squared and her head up. Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, don't be afraid.
She was afraid.
"Andie," she said, purposely speaking to her friend. "We're leaving. Now."
Andie giggled like a little girl and rolled her eyes. "Char, have some fun already! You can be so uptight!" Her words mingled together as a direct effect of too much alcohol.
Charlotte stepped closer and laid a hand on her friend's upper arm. "Come on. We have to work tomorrow."
"If the lady wants to stay, she can stay," the vampire said, raising a challenging eyebrow at Charlotte.
"I really don't think that decision is up to her, right now," Charlotte said, keeping her eyes only on Andie. If she looked at him, she would buckle under the weight of his stare. She could feel her heart throb in her chest, pound achingly against her ribs, pulsate to her fingertips. Yes, she was scared. But instinct ruled over emotion. Her instinct told her to get the hell out of there.
Andie batted Charlotte's hand away. "I can do what I want," she said huffily. "Like he said."
"But remember we have to see Delilah tomorrow?" Charlotte gritted between her teeth, trying her hardest not to tremble visibly. Delilah was code for getting in too deep. They had established it years ago after an especially eventful party. The word seemed to shake Andie to her senses. She blinked twice at Charlotte before looking fretfully at the man who was clutching her.
"I…" Andie trailed off with a heavy frown. The pieces were visibly clicking together.
Don't look at him, Charlotte thought. Just don't.
She did. Her eyes immediately flicked back to Andie, she was so shocked by the malevolence in his nearly black eyes. She wanted to wrench Andie out of his grasp, but he was a vampire—he was thirty times stronger than she was. More than that, even.
"We don't want any trouble," she said mostly to the floor, but loud enough to be picked up by a vampire. "Just let her leave."
"I'm not quite done with her yet," the man said, grinning wickedly.
Charlotte panicked. Another vampire had sped to his feet and now stood beside her menacingly, looking every bit like a shark ready to eat its bait. Charlotte moved to grab Andie but became caught in the other vampire's vice-like grip. He pulled her close to his body—too damn close—and his breath tickled the skin on her neck sickly. She shivered and gasped, thinking frantically for a way out of this. There is always a solution. Always.
It was a public place—of course. The music was loud, but maybe she could be louder.
"Rape!" she screamed and squirmed. "Rape!"
That definitely caused some heads to turn. The vampire holding her paused in momentary shock before wrapped a hand over her mouth. "Stan—"he began to say, but was quickly cut off by the bouncer who had stopped her. He now had his fangs out and ready.
"There ain't no live drinkin' here," he said, narrowing his eyes at the two vampires holding the girls. "Let em' go and I'll give you a warning. Again."
The vampire—Stan—seemed to toss over this idea in his head for a second. Then he froze completely, his eyes focused on something behind Charlotte. She craned her head around to see.
It was a boy who couldn't have been older than nineteen or twenty. He was dressed simply, in a v-neck shirt that revealed a tattoo below his collarbones and dark jeans. His eyes were surprisingly light and held a hint of anger. Charlotte couldn't think of any reason why this boy would seemingly frighten the vampire holding Andie.
"Stan," the boy spoke. There was a precision to his voice, an accent that cut words smoothly and with a sense of authority. It wasn't an accent Charlotte was familiar with. She had the sudden realization that he couldn't be simply nineteen or twenty—something in those eyes looked much older. "I trust that I am not early for our meeting."
Stan stuttered a moment, then replied with a, "No, sheriff." Sheriff? Huh? "I was just… getting a drink ready for you."
So he's a vampire, too. It made sense, why his eyes looked so much older than the rest of him. Worn down, almost.
The boy's gaze was unflinching. "I have no appetite. Release the girls."
Stan and the other vampire did as they were told, slackening their grip until both Andie and Charlotte could take three big steps away from them. Charlotte stared at the boy for a moment before grabbing Andie.
He met her eyes. "I apologize for you and your friend."
Charlotte didn't say anything. What was there to say? She dragged a stumbling Andie away, but spared a glance over her shoulder. Stan was glowering at her—she could just imagine his eyes flashing red—and the boy stood facing away from her, tense.
Her muscles didn't relax until she was outside, but she could still feel the prickle of adrenaline course through her veins. No, this was definitely not how she wanted to spend her Friday night.
"Andie," she said. "I'm throwing away your fake I.D."
Shall it be continued, or no? It's up to you guys.