DISCLAIMER: I own my characters—any name coincidences are just that—coincidences. Please review, and look for another chapter soon.
Chapter One: An introduction
A playful breeze danced among white gossamer curtains, twisting them about like ladies' skirts on a dance floor. The large glass French doors from which they hung were flung carelessly open, revealing a small balcony surrounded by an intricate wrought iron railing. Just beyond the edge of this balcony stood a tall oak tree, strong and sturdy as anything with many thick branches. Muted moonlight seeped into the room, washing over the ornate mahogany dresser, the small side-table, the down pillows trimmed with French lace, and lastly, across the figure of a young woman lying atop white silken sheets. Her slender form was clad in an elegant linen nightdress, also trimmed with lace, and her deep raven curls spread out across the pale bedding with ink-like fluidity. Just as the moon beams tickled her face, her deep brown doe-eyes sprung open, and she bolted upward as she did every night when the moon rose. Flushed cupids' bow shaped lips parted, breathing in the cool night air as if for the first time. This was the way Colette approached everything-with familiarity and appreciation.
After swinging her legs to the right side of the bed, she stood, her pale feet contrasting sharply against the mauve and grey Persian rug which spread across her hard-wood floor. She glided silently towards a mahogany chair upon which a blue-grey satin dressing gown lay. Picking it up, she draped it over her shoulders, seamlessly pushing her arms into its smooth sleeves. Blue-grey silken slippers soon adorned her feet as well. Colette only took her appearance in for a moment, glancing at the shiny surface of her intricate mirror, before opening her bedroom door and entering the hallway. Several portraits lined the hallway, portraits mostly of cold looking men, a few of her as a younger child, and at least twenty of the same man in various states of dress that surpassed the boundaries of time. He was the master of the house. Colette's feet lightly treaded atop the grey-stone hallways as she made her way towards a long winding staircase. Upon reaching it, she straightened out her nightdress yet again, and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ears before descending. It pleased him when she appeared well put together and pretty.
At the base of the stairs sat a large drawing room, with several red velvet couches, an ornate mantelpiece, large fireplace, fine Persian carpets, and a piano. He sat in his usual seat: the red velvet armchair directly in front of the fireplace. Diagonally to this chair was a simple loveseat with red velvet cushions, her chair. In between the two was a dark mahogany card table. Colette immediately sat in her chair, back straight, gazing into the crackling fire, waiting for him to speak, waiting for further instruction. "You slept well?" He inquired, voice deep and smooth. She glanced up at him, and then lowered her eyes "Indeed, I did." His features were very strong, almost imposing. His hair, like hers, was jet black, though his was neatly trimmed. His skin, if possible, had a translucent quality and paleness that surpassed hers tenfold. Eyes were an eerie, piercing venom green that could pierce through one's soul, and his over all build was tall (about 6 feet), lean, and muscular. Though he appeared about thirty five, his actual age mystified Colette, and many others-since he possessed upwards of three hundred years. This night, he wore a black silken waistcoat with a white linen shirt, black trousers, and black gloves along with black shoes. A black coat hung on the back of his chair. His attire certainly made her feel awkward being that she still sat in her nightclothes, but this was their nightly ritual. Magnus had certain ways of doing things, and in the eighteen years she'd lived with him, Colette had learned not to break the routine. "Colette, tonight you and I are to attend a ball. A masquerade ball, no less. Your mask and gown are all ready in your armoire. Nancy will prepare your attire accordingly. Please take your leave to dress." Only when he spoke could one see the elongated pearly canines that jutted out just a little farther than his other teeth. Those canines immediately announced exactly what sort of creature he was: a walker of the night, or vampire.
Colette, who was very much human, merely nodded and traipsed back up to her room where Nancy waited. Nancy, a slave from Algeria, was the only other mortal Colette had ever really known. Magnus kept her in the house at all times, unless she was specifically required to be with him. In fact, she'd never gone to a ball with him before, and felt quite nervous, as reflected by the flush on her cheek and the uncertainty in her eyes. She'd never met any of his 'friends' before. She was Magnus's jewel, you understand, the diamond in his crown. She was a mortal, unbitten, untouched, and chaste, living with him within the walls of a gilded cage. Since he held a great deal of power among French vampires, most assumed he would eventually turn her, but her eighteenth birthday had come and gone months ago, and no action had taken place. Her true birthday remained unknown by both Magnus and Herself, but one day as a little child, he'd given her the birthday of February 14th-Saint Valentines' day. Why? Because of the beauty of that day, and because she "acted like an Aquarius." Other vampires, not to her knowledge of course, wondered if, at this annual masquerade, he meant to seek out a possible sire for the fair maid. Colette herself did not know why Magnus had not turned her yet or bitten her. An incident had occurred once, just after her sixteenth birthday, but even in that moment he'd managed to restrain himself. Though she worried on the inside, what could she do? Tonight was to be her night.
With the help of her kindly servant, Colette soon stood dressed in a gown of Mauve silk, and a silver mask trimmed with sparkling cloth. Nancy had her hair done loosely around her shoulders in a low bun, placing silver adornments in the knot. White silk gloves covered her arms up to her shoulder, exposing just a slight bit of skin before the sleeve of her gown began. A slit down the middle of the overdress revealed white lace petticoats spilling forth from underneath it, and grey silk slippers adorned her feet. Without jewelry or rouge necessary, she was finished. Nancy presented her to Magnus who merely nodded in approval. "Come along then," he stated, giving her his arm as he slipped on his own black mask, leading her to the carriage.
The last time she'd ridden in a carriage had been five years prior, and only because they'd needed to leave France quite rapidly. Other than that, her only exposure amounted to occasional nightly walks round the gardens or the grounds, and even then, Magnus always accompanied her. Colette saw very little of the outside world. Even so, intelligence and clever wits danced through her mind as a result of reading countless books. Many evenings, if Magnus did not need to 'go out,' he would sit in the parlor, watching her read as if in a trance of some sort.
Now, she could barely contain herself from looking out the windows eagerly, taking in the night sky which appeared to be moving from her viewpoint. The excitement lay half in her not knowing their final destination, and half in visiting the outside world. Magnus had kept her under his thumb since before she could remember. She'd only known a few others apart from him: Nancy, the coach-driver, and two of his friends that she'd witnessed entering the house from a second floor window. Though she could not recall it, Magnus's 'adoption' of little Colette had been nothing short of strange, and under the most awkward circumstances.
Eighteen years prior, on March 3rd 1788, a Hungry Magnus had wandered about the back alleyways of Paris amidst the aftermath of revolution. The vampire community, of course, rarely took part in silly mortal conflicts, and lord knows he'd seen enough of those to last a lifetime. The trouble arose when mortals began leaving the cities, and thus, eliminating potential food sources. In fact, he'd just about made up his mind to leave Paris and set out for the country when a pale, spindly hand gripped his ankle. Out of the shadows, a string-thin voice had rasped out one word "please". Crawling towards him, the figure of a woman had emerged, appearing more and more clearly. Her deathly pale skin and flushed cheeks had struck him as oxymoronic, and her tattered clothing all but screamed out her poor, sad existence. What's more, it had been apparent that she had a fever, and that her body was dying. Her eyes seemed to reaffirm that her "please" had been a plead for death, for release. Under her dirty skin, he'd seen her purity, and so, proceeded to bite her neck gently. After finishing, he'd gently laid her on the ground, using his coat to cover her. Then, he'd glimpsed at a basket hidden just behind the woman, a basket filled with relatively clean rags, and a squirming object. That squirming object turned out to be a child, and at that moment, he'd realized that her final word, "please," had been a wish for help, or aid, for her child. He reached down tentatively towards the basket, not wanting to taint the sacred creature inside. Before he could decide whether to take it or not, a chubby hand wrapped itself around his finger.
Colette never left his side from that moment on. She did not remember her mother at all; in fact, her only childhood memories were of Magnus. Magnus teaching her songs on the piano, Magnus giving her coloring books, and Magnus chasing her through the gardens at night. As she'd matured, however, their relationship changed, and he'd become more cold and distant towards her. She hoped that, by observing him in his own environment, she might understand why the shift existed. Even sitting side by side in the carriage, they somehow managed to be worlds apart. But oh, if she knew what he had to think about every day, perhaps she would not have perceived him as cold. Imagine, living with a young mortal-a child!-whom you'd raised, and then needing to leave once a week and kill one of her own kind. Other vampires in the community knew about his little mortal girl. The controversy lay in exactly what Magnus planned on doing with/to her, if anything, and if one of the oldest vampires in the French community actually had sentiments for food.
Abruptly, their carriage stopped, in front of a large white manor, almost as large as their home. Grecian columns lined the front, and gardens peeked out from the rear. Magnus seamlessly stepped out of the carriage and tied his black mask onto his face in the same motion. Colette, who'd been sitting with her mask on the entire time, jerked herself out of the carriage and took his arm. Her heart pounded against her ribs, he knew, he could hear it. Though he didn't wish to throw her in with the sharks, he knew that this moment had inevitably come. At least if she got into any trouble, he was tuned enough to her emotional pull to sense it immediately. Grasping at straws with this last confidence, Magnus hooked his arm around Colette's and rapped on the door three times. It creaked open, and the odd pair stepped inside, one coldly resigned, the other flushed and frightened. Several possibilities hung in the air as they stepped across Persian rugs in the entry way. The community could laugh at their predicament, though this was unlikely. Magnus could offer Colette to another, or, maybe she wouldn't even exit alive. The next few hours would affect their lives and lifestyles crucially. Only time would tell.