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Accepting Serenity
Chapter 2
From the darkness, Sera could hear sounds of anguish mixed with throaty growls of pleasure. The voice begging for mercy was barely recognizable as her cruel attacker. She shuddered as she thought about what sort of creature could reduce such a callous man to pleading. As his cries faded to whimpers and then to silence, she felt the throbbing demand inside her release its hold. Warmth flowed through her and filled the painful emptiness.
Slowly, the shadows around her lifted and the narrow alleyway started to take shape again. Sera rubbed her eyes and blinked several times. As her eyesight returned, she turned to look for a place to hide. She needed to get away from whatever it was that had taken her assailant.
It was the grisly scene before her that held her where she stood. Her legs refused to move as her mind battled to grasp something elusive. Who are you? The broken body of a man lay at her feet, the jacket hood thrown back to reveal his face. Lifeless eyes stared accusingly at her. Who are you? Even as her heart revolted at the display of violence surrounding her, the smell reached up and touched a part of her brain. It smelled like satisfaction. Who am I? Sera backed as far away from the gore as possible, bumping into the wall behind her. She reached up to brush a strand of dark hair from her brow and left something thick and wet behind. That was when she noticed the blood covering both of her hands. Staring, horrified, she cried, "What have I done?" Who am I?
~ ~ ~
There was no doubt that this one had deserved to die. Humans have a great capacity for evil. The sick things some of them do rival that of the demons themselves. Jean Claude knew that now, after years of sharing the night with predators like the one laying at the girl's feet. As his eyes traveled up from the remains to the slender form standing over it, he was forced to change his perception. Gentle curves just behind the loose white material of the burial dress proved that she was more than a girl, despite her small frame. His gaze continued upwards to her face. Her pale face held a simple beauty that was neither flashy nor pretentious. It was obvious that she had experienced life, and in spite of the current expression of horror, the small laugh lines around her mouth and eyes seemed to indicate that she smiled more often than not. Her thick, dark hair curved about her face and shoulders almost with a mind of its own, traveling all the way down the length of her back.
The silent tears that cascaded down her cheek touched him. Jean made a habit of studying people. The quiet man could often be found standing a bit off from the crowd, watching. In fact, he could learn more about a situation in five minutes of observation than many could after hours of interaction. That was one of the things that made him so valuable to the family. This time, however, it took no effort at all to see what was happening. Between her release of the Good Samaritan at the door and the look of remorse she now wore, it was easy to conclude the source of her inner struggle.
As he stood at the mouth of the alley, a lecture he had given in another lifetime flitted across his mind. "Imitation Morality," he had called it, challenging the philosophy students to define what made an action good or evil and to explore how much society dictated those ideas. He wondered if she would be able to push aside those preconceived ideals of good and evil and find her place in this world.
Sera felt someone's gaze upon her and looked up from behind the locks of hair that had fallen over her eyes. The man that stepped out of the shadows towered over her, but there was a gentleness in his deep brown eyes that immediately made her feel at ease. His soft voice was murmuring comforting words with a mellow Cajun accent. Something about him made her trust him instinctively. She allowed him to take her by the arm, and with a practiced air of authority, he took charge of the situation. Gently but quickly, he whisked her away from the carnage.
~ ~ ~
Sitting on a park bench at four o'clock in the morning sipping coffee might not be strange to some people. But then those people probably had not just fought their way out of a grave, almost killed an innocent bystander, fought off an attempted rape, and woke up covered in blood. To Sera, it was almost surreal. Her rescuer had left her here wrapped in his jacket, and promptly returned with coffee and beignets. Unconsciously, she pulled the jacket closer. Even though she was not at all cold, he seemed to know that it would provide her with much-needed comfort as well as cover the dark stains of blood on her white gown. The food and drink offered a thankful distraction and a sense of normalcy.
It was quiet. That was one of the things Jean enjoyed about living in the night. The stillness gave one time to think. He looked over at the tiny woman lost in the folds of his jacket and pondered. Finally, he made up his mind and broke the silence. "Jean Claude," he informed her, and remembering the grave marker he added, "and you are Serenity?" A brief look of conflict danced across her face before she gave a sad smile and replied, "My friends call me Sera." They lapsed into silence once more. Sera searched to find the words she wanted and Jean patiently gave her all the time she needed. "Jean." She spoke so softly that a human would have had to strain to hear what she was saying. "Can you tell me what is happening to me?"
It was the question that he was expecting, of course. He had thought about his answer, and even questioned if he was the one who should provide it, before he had given her the opportunity to ask. Years of scrutinizing people had honed his instincts about how they are likely to react in a given situation. Likewise, countless dealings with demons of all kinds had taught him to be prepared for anything. Either way, he was sure of one thing. She was not going to like what he had to say. With great care, he took an unneeded breath and began.
~ ~ ~
Vampire?
--Who are you?
That can't be. I am not evil!
--Aren't you?
This cannot be happening.
--Who are you?
Sera shook her head. She could feel Jean's hand pat her shoulder reassuringly. I can't be a vampire. She leaned down and rested her head in her hands. There must be some mistake. Visions of the blood-covered alley rose up to greet her. I don't hurt people. She saw the eyes of the rapist staring vacantly at her. Oh God! What am I going to do?
Jean knew that the she needed some time. She must have a very strong spirit to fight so hard against herself. As he left her to her thoughts, he silently thanked Fortune herself for allowing his family to be there with him in the beginning. His reverie was interrupted as he felt her fall over into his lap in a dead faint. He looked from her prone form to the eastern horizon and the soft orange glow that precedes the sunrise and did the only thing he could do. He gathered her up in his arms and took her home.
~ ~ ~
