Author's Note: Ooh, Vampire Diaries. I came up with this idea while watching the season premiere. It's going to take place entirely in the Vampire Diaries universe, but none of the main characters are going to be in the story. Some of the secondary characters will make cameos, but that's it. The main characters are based upon me and my two best friends from high school. Point in fact, this story is dedicated to one of those friends, who tragically took his own life this past winter.
So, this will be a mature rated story, but I'll start it out tamer to try and hook some readers.
CHAPTER ONE: THE CUSTOMARY INTRODUCTION
Yekaterinburg, Russia - July 17, 1918
Anastasia rubbed at her eyes as she and her sisters filed down the stairs behind their parents, her little brother Alexei being carried gently down behind her by the family doctor. As they all settled into the semi-basement like room, her father asked for two chairs so that he and his wife might sit down as they waited until their transport arrived. Once the chairs arrived, Anastasia's mother, Alexandra sat upon one, while her father Nikolai sat in the other, motioning for Dr. Bothim to place Alexei on his lap. The half slumbering boy wiggled into his father's arms, placing his head in the cradle of the former Tsar's neck. Next to Anastasia, her elder sister Olga yawned, while Tatiana and Maria dozed against one another where they stood. Off a little to the side stood the family's still loyal servants.
Several minutes passed before their jailor, Yakov Yurkovsky, descended into the cellar, armed gunman lingering in the stairwell.
"Nikolai Aleksandrovich, in view of the fact that your relatives are continuing their attack on Soviet Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you…" The silence that followed that statement was thunderous. The former Tsar looked at his family, who were all wide awake now before looking back at his killer, unconsciously clutching his only son closer to him.
"What?" Nikolai asked, disbelief obvious in his deep voice.
Comrade Yurkovsky repeated the statement and motioned to the gunman on the stairs, who came into the room, weapons raised. Yakov drew his own pistol and aimed it at the family along with his men. Her father clutched Alexei tightly to him, turning his small head away from their executors. Beside him, the former Tsarina crossed herself while her daughters Olga, Tatiana, and Maria clutched one another. The servants started scrambling further back from the Romanov family and all the while Anastasia just stood their, staring numbly at Yurkovsky as he gave the order to fire.
-o~O~o-
Lebanon, Pennsylvania - Present Day
Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova blinked her eyes open as the SUV came to a complete stop. She looked around th car before returning her gaze to the window, looking out at the slate grey clouds and the sheets of pouring rain. Her driver finally came around the car and opened the door for her, offering her one hand while holding an umbrella with the other, shielding the former Russian Duchess from the rain. Accepting his hand, she stepped gracefully down onto the sidewalk and looked up at the old Bed and Breakfast that was going to be her new home for the remainder of her stay in town. The SUV behind the one she drove up in pulled to a stop and the driver and his passenger both got out to unload her luggage. Meanwhile, Anastasia, followed by her umbrella holder, walked up the porch toward the front door, which was being held open by a woman in her early sixties.
"Please, come in my dear." Mrs. Hart, the owner of the Bed and Breakfast said with a smile, stepping aside to allow her in. Anastasia smiled warmly at the old woman, stepping into the parlor-turned-reception area of the old house. "The rooms you asked for are all ready in one of the other houses. I just need you to fill out some forms and then I'll let you get settled." The beautiful Russian doll ceased her gazing around and turned to face Mrs. Hart, capturing old brown eyes were her steady, silver blue gaze.
"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Hart." Anastasia said clearly, the pupils of her eyes flexing, causing Mrs. Hart's to dilate as she repeated what was just said to her. Anastasia smiled and followed the old woman out of the first house and across the side street toward one of the other houses that comprised the Bed and Breakfast, Anastasia's attendants shielding both women from the rain while the others carried her luggage.
Once she and her luggage were all settled in her new room, Mrs. Hart gave Anastasia a key to the house and went back to the main house. Anastasia directed her "servants" on where to place her luggage before she had all of the leave.
All but one.
"Open your collar." she ordered him in Russian. The man's fingers automatically went to his throat, undoing the tie and top few buttons of his shirt, his eyes all the while staring vacantly forward. Focusing on his lovely and strong neck, she could feel the veins protruding along her cheekbones while her eyes darkened with blood. Her fangs descended. In a blur of motion, the vampiress lurched forward and sank her fangs into the man's neck.
-o~O~o-
Michael King fidgeted in his desk chair as he worked on his summer homework, glancing every few minutes out his bedroom window at the semi-darkened sky. It had rained all day and had just let up an hour ago, painting the sky an interesting shade of rosy orange through the storm dark clouds. After every glance out the window, he would look down at his watch before shuffling in his seat and attempting to get back to work. Several minutes later the entire process would repeat itself. Finally, after a few more repetitious glances (eight), Michael threw his pencil onto the desk and sighed, rubbing his face before stretching his arms toward the ceiling, leaning back in his chair.
Once his chair was firmly back on the ground, he pushed away from his desk and stood to his full six-foot plus height. Walking away from his desk, Michael went to his closet and pulled out a gym bag that was thrown carelessly onto the bed. As he was rooting through his closet for something to wear, his cell phone rang from his desk. In three quick strides, he reached his desk and picked up his phone, accepting the call and putting it to his ear.
"'Sup, dude?" he answered as he walked back over to his closet and pulled out a dress shirt that he scrutinized before placing it back on the hook.
"Nothin' much." his friend answered. "Just getting ready for tonight." A Pause. "You?"
"Same…" Michael responded. "Sorta. I'm actually picking out an outfit for tomorrow." He got an amused chuckle in response to that comment.
"So, a bunch of us are going out to the mountains for tonight." his friend said as Mike pulled off another shirt and placed it back on the hanger. "You interested?"
"I think I'll pass tonight, Jimmy." he answered. "Tomorrow's the first day of school so I think I'm gonna just go to the mansion." He finally found a shirt he deemed acceptable and folded it carefully, phone placed between his ear and shoulder, and placed it on the bed next to the duffel bag. "Maybe next month."
"Suit yourself, dude." Jimmy said over the phone. "We'll catch a deer for ya."
"I'll see you later, dude." Michael chuckled.
"Later, bitch."
Michael closed the call and tossed the phone toward the bed as he moved toward his dresser. Opening the top drawer he pulled out a pair of dark gray boxer shorts and a pair of black socks that were neatly bundled. Those ended up on the bed with the shirt, cell phone and gym bag. The bottom drawer was pulled open and jeans were moved aside before Michael found what he was looking for: a worn and old pair of khaki cargo shorts. These too were folded with care and placed atop the pile of clothes.
Grabbing the book bag sitting next to his bed, he placed the folded clothes within before picking up the abandoned books and homework from his desk and also placing them within the bag. Zipping the bag shut, he then reached over and grabbed his cell phone, placing it in a side pocket. Before he closed that, he reached over and snatched up his wallet from his bedside table, placing that in the pocket as well.
Satisfied that he had everything in his book bag, he then knelt beside his bed and reached under, pulling out a set of heavy steel chains and complicated pulleys. Heaving them up, he placed them within the open gym bag that sat ready for them. As he was zipping up the bag, he hunched in pain suddenly, letting out a growling moan. Once the pain had passed, he stood up and glanced again at his window, grimacing at the glimpse of the full moon that shown through the clouds. Grabbing the gym bag, he slung his book bag over his shoulder and reached into the bedside drawer, pulling out a small bag with a yellowish green plant inside. That was quickly placed within the gym bag as well. Taking one last glance around his room, he flipped the light switch before leaving, closing the door behind him.
Down stairs, he placed his gym bag by the door before heading into the kitchen where his mother and little brother were sitting at the dinner table, getting ready to eat.
"Hi honey, heading out?" his mother asked, looking at the book bag slung over his shoulder.
"Yeah." Michael responded. "Last hoorah before school. Me and a bunch of the guys were gonna get together." As he spoke, he reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle fo water that was quickly placed in the side pocket of his bag.
"Well have fun." his mother said.
"I will, ma." the teen said, bending down to kiss his mother on the cheek. On his way out he ruffled his baby brother's hair, who was busy playing with his chicken nuggets. Grabbing his keys from the hall table, he hefted the gym ban and reached for the door… which opened before he could grab the handle. His step-father stepped through the door, loosening his tie as he did.
"Hey buddy." he said to Michael, who stepped aside to let him pass.
"Hey Tom."
"Heading out?"
"Yeah. Last night of freedom before my senior year." Michael informed him.
"Well, have fun." Thomas repeated his wife's earlier words, patting his step-son on the shoulder.
Once his step-father moved on, Michael was out of the door and throwing the gym bag into the bed of his pick-up truck. Sliding into the driver's seat with his book bag next to him, the young man placed the keys in the ignition and started the truck.
-o~O~o-
"Just sign right here." the woman behind the counter said, holding out a clipboard with some forms attached and a pen. The young man, his blond head bowed to the papers, signed his name on the dotted line at the bottom of the last page. Looking up, he smiled, flashing arctic white teeth that made the secretary's middle aged heart flutter. "Thank you, Mr…" she glanced at the signature on the paper as he handed it back to her. "Caminiti."
"Please," he interrupted her, his voice a raspy deep baritone. "Call me Alec." She smiled in return as he accepted his receipt and got out of line, making room for the customer behind him. A pair of black mirror aviators came out of his vintage leather jacket and slipped into place over his pretty baby blues. He exited the building into the partly-sunny day and made his way to the customer parking lot. Just ahead of him was a crowd of men, from young to old, who were gawking at an Audi R8 Spyder with its top up.
"Excuse me." he said, a faint smile playing on his lips as he shouldered his way through them to his car.
"This is your car?" one of the younger men asked him with disbelief.
"No." Alec answered him, turning to look at him as he pulled out his key chain and unlocked the driver's side door. The cheeky young blond pulled open the door and slid into the butter soft leather seat behind the driver's wheel, pulling the door closed behind him and ignoring the stunned looks of those gathered around his car. Alec placed the key into the ignition and turned, starting the car with a deep rumble. Smirking again at the looks on their faces, he reached over and flicked his finger across the lit screen of the iPod Touch that sat in its cradle, causing a random pop song to play. The cocky young man put his car in reverse and backed out of his parking space before putting it in gear.
"What the hell." he said to himself with a shrug of his shoulders before he switched gears very fast and roared out of the parking lot, leaving tire treads in his wake.
-o~O~o-
Anastasia dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a jewel embroidered kerchief while the men she had Compelled carried their unconscious friend out of her room and down to their vehicles. She closed the door behind them as they left and turned to her small mountain of suit cases and boxes, all containing her possessions. Opening the first box, she pulled out an old photograph. Like, before prohibition old. The photo was set in an expensive yet simple frame and contained her entire family as she had known them in 1918, before the fall of the Romanov family. They were all dressed to the nines - she, her mother, and her sisters all in exquisite gowns bedazzled with precious gems and her father and brother in formal military uniforms.
Alexei looked so handsome in his little uniform.
She smiled sadly at the picture for a second before she placed it on her vanity, turning to finish unpacking.
-o~O~o-
Michael pulled to a stop in the driveway of a large mansion half-covered in twisting ivy. Taking a deep, shaking breath, he popped open the driver's side door and slid out, turning back to grab his back pack. He reached into the bed of the truck and heaved out the gym bag effortlessly, kicking the cabin door closed before he made his way toward the mansion. Dropping the gym bag at his side, he reached a shaking hand out and pushed the doorbell. He stood there for a few moments, shaking out his arm to try and calm his nerves. Just as he was reaching for the doorbell again, the door was pulled open. A woman in a maid's uniform and an older gentleman leaning heavily on a cane stood on the threshold, looking at the twitching young man.
"Michael?" the older man said, motioning for the maid to leave with his free hand as he stared at the young man, surprise on his face.
"Hey, Mr. Whittemore." Michael answered sheepishly, ducking his head, a rather useless gesture as he towered over the old man. "Sorry I didn't call ahead of time, but I need to use the cellar."
"Of course, m'boy." Mr. Whittemore answered, stepping aside so that Michael could enter. "And I've told you young pups already to call me William."
"Yes sir."
Whittemore chuckled. "I'll leave you to go set up." The old man started limping away.
"Could you send someone to wake me up by seven?" the teen asked. "I've got school in the morning."
"Of course."
With that, Michael turned down one of the corridors and headed for the basement of the mansion. Once he closed the heavy steel door behind him, he descended the musty stairs down into the basement, taking another hallway once he was there, though this one was lined with cells of reinforced steel and iron. Picking out one half way down the corridor, he slipped his shoes off at the door as well as placing his book bag down before walking into the cell and tossing the gym bag toward the far wall. He quickly turned around and got the water bottle from his bag before he heaved the door shut behind him, listening to it lock menacingly
Rattling the door to make sure that it was locked, Michael pulled out the little bag of herbs from the side pocket of the gym bag. He quickly and deftly opened the bag and pulled out a small portion, which he slipped into the top of the water bottle, shaking it vigorously to mix it up. Removing his hand from the opening, he brought it to his lips and paused. With a grimace, he pulled the bottle the rest of the way and took a gulp, choking almost immediately after it passed his lips. The pain of the elixir was so strong it brought him to his knees. Still coughing, he returned the cap to the bottle and let it fall, rolling away across the dirt floor Standing back up, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, messing up his shaggy auburn red curls and revealing a powerfully muscular chest. Michael pulled out the chains from the bag and began setting them up around the room on various hooks.
Double checking all his equipment, he nodded to himself before shedding all of his clothes with the exception of his boxers. Once bare, he wrapped his arms, legs, neck and waist with the heavy chains before hooking them up to the pulleys. He took another deep breath.
"Let's get this over with."
-o~O~o-
Alec pulled out of the overgrown trees and into the rough gravel driveway that led to a large manor house in serious disrepair. Most of the windows were smashed out and boarded up. Half of the large garage attached to it's right was caved in, as was part of the wrap around porch. Most of the front of the house and the boards over the windows was covered with gang graffiti. The green house sitting just behind the house was overgrown, with the plants growing out of the shattered holes in the glass. And about twenty feet further back was the burnt out remains of an old stone church, that only had half of one wall and even less of another still standing.
The blond stopped before the front steps that led up to the aforementioned porch of the large manor and turned off his sports car. Removing the keys from the ignition, Alec grabbed his messenger bag from the passenger seat and exited his vehicle.
"Home, sweet home." he said to himself, looking up at the crumbling façade. He slung the bag's strap over his shoulder and proceeded to walk up the front steps toward the front door with its peeling pain. Alec fitted the old fashioned key into the lock and turned it, successfully unlocking the door to his new home. He paused halfway over the threshold, looking at the pain chips that stubbornly clung to the weather stained wood. "I don't like this color." he spoke aloud, tilting his head slightly as he observed the door. "At all." He raised his free hand and wiggled his fingers before tapping the door, which instantly turned a rich, blue violet color that stood out drastically against the rest of the house.
"Much better."
Right inside the door was a small room with a coat rack hanging lopsided on the wall and a small bench with two of its legs broken off. The young man slid his leather jacket off and hung it on one of the tarnished gold hooks before he opened the next door and entered the large parlor. A few steps into the darkness and the door closed automatically behind him while hundreds of candles flickered into life all around the room on all sorts of surfaces. There was even an old fashioned chandelier that hung from the ceiling, it's tiny crystals dancing with the captured light of the candles that crowned it. The old leather satchel-slash-messenger bag that hung from his shoulder was unceremoniously dropped onto a large wooden kitchen that sat in the room, which was piled with several old and weathered books and dotted with a dozen lit pillar candles.
With a deep sigh, Alec walked over and sank sideways into a plush arm chair, letting his jean clad legs dangle over the arm. Another sigh, this one contented, escaped his lips as he settled deeply into the cushions, his eyes closing as his biker boots were kicked off to thud softly on the rug. Alec just enjoyed the silence for a few moments before a faint howl split the night. The young warlock cracked open one eye and looked out the floor to ceiling window at the back of the house (that he had just had installed) and saw the full moon flash brightly through the clouds. Alec smiled to himself as he closed his eyes again, a chorus of howls answering the first one.
"I think I'm gonna like this town."
Another Author's Note: So, now that the three main characters were introduced, I can elaborate further. Me and my two best friends in high school were the holy trinity of genres like this. Brit was obsessed with vampires, James knew everything about werewolves, and I was the witch expert. Hence the three main characters. It also helped because I'm a giant 'mo, James was bisexual, and Brit was straight... so I see a love triangle for my story that fits with The Vampire Diaries.
Also, reviews are my drug of choice, so please supply me. I'd like to know if I'm doing a good job with this or not.