Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or it's characters as I'm not the great Stephanie Meyer. I do own my own creations however.
Summary: This is the story of a family of vampires, not quite as good at Carlisle and his family but not evil either. They would have liked to help when Carlisle and Esme asked but they had their own reason for staying under the Volturi's radar, for staying away. This is their story.
Warning: Violence and slash (later on). You no likey, you no ready. Kay?
A/N The first five chapters are completely about the OC's I have created but have no fear, our favourite vampires and werewolves will be in this story!
Where Loyalties Lie.
Chapter Four: Clara.
One Christmas when she was five years old Clara's parents took her to see a pantomime of 'Cinderella' and instantly she had been captivated by the dancing, the singing and the whole atmosphere of the stage. From that moment on she was determined to be an actress or a dancer or a singer, anything that would get her on the stage. At the age of eight she convinced her mother to let her leave the little school she'd attended for three years and go instead to a school of the dramatic arts. They'd had to sell a few of their positions to pay for the slot at the school and the different uniforms required, the ballet slippers, the tap shoes, the different rehearsal dresses but they'd managed it. And when they'd fitted Clara for all her clothes her mother had had to admit her daughter did look perfect in the various clothes of a dancer.
So for the last four years Clara had been learning ballet, tap, modern, singing and acting. Her teachers all agreed that she had a natural talent; she was born to be on the stage. Each child had a favourite lesson of course and Clara's was ballet. She worked her hardest on her ballet, excelling in every aspect and often showing the much older girls up. She practised everywhere she went, standing on point at the bus stop, practising her poise in front of her mothers full length mirror, turning pirouettes in the little bedroom she shared with her old sister Kathleen. Along with working hard on her ballet and her other lessons she worked on her image, basing her looks on Shirley Temple. Her hair was naturally blond and a little curly but with the aid of her sister's rolling pins she had perfect ringlets like she desired.
"I've joined up," Kathleen said suddenly one evening at dinner, looking at the thin stew as she spoke. The war had been going on for nearly three years and now at eighteen she was old enough to do her bit like all her friends already were.
"You've what?!?" her father shouted while her mother simply stared at her eldest child in shock. Sixteen-year-old Arthur looked at his big sister enviously, wanting nothing more to sign up and kill the Nazi's himself.
"I've put my name down for the ATS. I want to be a driver," Kathleen explained, now looking up to meet her parent's eyes. There were a few moments of tense silence and then their father erupted, shouting so loudly Clara knew next door could hear it through the walls. Soon their mother and Kathleen joined in, their mother agreeing with their father that Kathleen couldn't go and Kathleen defending her decision. Arthur watched everything eagerly as he shovelled his food into his mouth but Clara tries to ignore them, focused only on herself and her own problems.
Tomorrow was the audition for the Christmas pantomime at the Richmond's Theatre, this year they were doing Cinderella and she was auditioning for the lead. There were eight girls auditioning from her school, three more for the lead, two for the fairy godmother and two for chorus parts. They'd all had to prepare a dance piece, a song and a piece of recitation. Clara wasn't worried about her dance, she was doing ballet of course and she wasn't worried about her song, she'd chosen a popular one that was always on the wireless - 'He Wears A Pair Of Silver Wings'. It was her piece of recitation that worried her. All the other girls had chosen something light and simple but she'd wanted to stand out so stupidly she'd chosen to recite 'The Tyger' by William Blake. Now she was worried she would remember it all or that the casting directors would want something sweet and fluffy like the other girls had chosen.
"Oh just let her go and shut up about it!" she finally shouted at her parents when their arguing continued for a further ten minutes. Everyone stared at her in shocked silence. "Finally, I couldn't hear myself think. Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright in the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry?" Her parents and sister were still staring at her in shock as she calmly began to recite the poem to herself, playing with the remains of her meal on her plate. "In what distant deeps or skies burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand…oh what's the next bit…What the hand…dare seize the fire?"
"How dare you…" her father started on her, his glare shifting from his rebellious eldest daughter to his selfish youngest.
"I have an important audition tomorrow and I need silence to practise my lines," she answered calmly, "What does it matter if Kathleen wants to join the ATS? They probably wont have her anyway!"
"That's it! I've stood by long enough and watched your selfishness grow! This is the last straw! You are not going to the audition tomorrow and if you don't buck up your ideas and improve your behaviour you won't be going to that stupid school any longer!" her father shouted at her.
"What?!" Clara jumped up out of her seat, glaring at her father across the table. "That's not fair!"
"I don't care whether it's fair or not. Your sister will not be joining the ATS and you will not be going to that stupid audition tomorrow!" their father shouted.
"Yes I am!" both girls screamed at the same moment.
"No you will not! My word is final!"
"I hate you! I hate you!" Clara screamed, throwing her napkin at him she ran loudly up the stairs of their house, into her room and slammed the door shut. How dare he? How dare he try and keep her from fulfilling her dream of being on the stage?!? This was her big chance, her first audition! She would be going to it tomorrow even if she had to walk to the theatre alone to do it!
~ * ~ * ~
Getting up before everyone else was awake the next morning Clara got dressed into her pretty blue audition dress, almost a perfect copy of one of Shirley Temples dresses, and tied a matching blue ribbon in her hair. Her thick navy coat went on next, her pocket money slipped into its pocket. Kathleen was still snoring away as she picked up her ballet shoes and tiptoed from the room. Tiptoeing down the stairs she picked up her black shoes that were kept with all the others next to the front door and then left the house. She didn't leave them a note. Outside she walked to the nearest bus stop and joined the queue of people going to their jobs.
"You alright little lass?" a woman asked her, "You mum not with you?"
"She had to stay at home," Clara lied effortlessly, "I know where I'm going."
"Are you sure?" the woman asked, a little worried for the angelic looking girl.
"Oh yes," Clara beamed up at her. Just then the bus arrived and all the people in front rushed on, almost fighting for the few seats. Clara calmly asked for a return ticket to the stop nearest the theatre, thankful that she remembered what it was called after going with her family earlier in the year to the same theatre to see a play. The bus conductor wasn't worried about her travelling alone at all. She stood for the whole journey, holding onto one of the poles rather than try and find a seat, watching the busy world pass by the windows. Eventually the bus pulled up at the right stop and she hopped off, her ballet shoes now clutched close to her chest as the nerves began to surface. Not nerves about being in the centre of London alone, nerves about the oncoming audition. There was a queue of girls inside the theatre entrance, all standing with their mothers and fathers and dressed as perfectly as her. She joined it at the back and ten minutes later she was at the front, smiling at the lady who held a pen in one hand a clipboard in the other.
"Name?" she asked.
"Clara Brown." The woman's eyes scanned the small words on the page until she found what she was looking for, Clara's neatly printed name. The pen made a small sound as a tick was drawn beside her name.
"Auditioning for the part of Cinderella?" the woman asked.
"Yes," Clara nodded.
"Where is your mother?" the woman frowned, looking along the queue as if she expected Clara's mother to suddenly appear, "Or father?"
"My father is at work and my mother was taken ill. I had to come alone," Clara said, acting her little heart out to make her voice waver as if she were telling the truth and was worried, "My sister dropped me off but she was on her way to work."
"Will someone be here to take you home?" the woman asked.
"My sister, on her way home from work. I've got to wait here until then," Clara lied very convincingly. The woman nodded, believing her every word.
"The principal auditions start at eleven o'clock. Be on the stage by half ten. Until then you may sit quietly in the theatre or you may rehearse out here in the corridors" she told Clara, pointing to the door which Clara knew led to the theatre and then to the few girls practising dance routines in the foyer.
"Thank you," Clara smiled pleasantly at her and then entered the theatre, choosing a seat away from the other girls watching the boys audition on the stage. Watching closely she easily swapped her street shoes for her silk ballet shoes, leaving the others on the seat next to her. Her coat was draped over the same chair and then not making a sound she stood in the aisle and proceeded to run through her stretches, never once taking her eyes of the thrilling audition going on before her.
She had no watch but when the other girls who she'd heard talking about the principals audition got up and made their way towards the door that led backstage she followed them, a spring in her step as excitement took over from her nerves. None of them talked to her, the new girl who was as pretty as a doll. They were older than her too, a few of them had to be sixteen or over.
"Could the girls auditioning for the principal parts please form a line on the stage," a mans voice called and they all moved as one, walking out onto the stage from both wings and forming a line which stretched right the way across the huge stage. Some girls walked in the funny way ballet shoes required, others clicked in their tap shoes but eventually they were all there, smiling nervously out at the three men armed with clip boards in the fifth row of the audience.
"We'll start from stage left shall we?" the eldest of the three asked, not waiting for an answer, "For now girls we would like you to step forwards, tell us your name, your age and the part you are auditioning for and then turn around three times. First girl." Clara leaned forwards ever so slightly and looked right, towards stage left as the first girl stepped forwards. She counted the girls in the line and found herself to be the fifteenth girl. It took about fifteen minutes before it was her turn. She stepped forwards confidently,
"Clara Brown. I'm twelve-years-old and I'm auditioning for Cinderella," she told them calmly, watching them write it all down on their bits of paper. Then she turned around three times, slower than the other girls had. They made more notes on her general appearance and then she stepped back into line still smiling. The next girl stammered as she spoke. In total there were twenty-eight girls on the stage and just as they were about to let the first girl perform her prepared piece two more stumbled onto the stage, panting and shaking.
"Your late girls," one of the other men said coldly.
"We're very sorry sir. Our bus was diverted because of air raid damage," the taller of the two girls said quickly.
"Fine. Names, ages and parts," the same man ordered.
"Frances and Becky O'Connor. I'm 16 and my sister is 13. I'm auditioning for the fairy godmother and Becky is auditioning for Cinderella," the same girl said, her voice calming down as she spoke.
"Turn around three times. Both of you," he ordered. Both girls looked startled but obeyed, their expressions making some of the other girls giggle. "Thank you. You may join the line stage right now and Helen Seaver, you may begin your performance. Any music required may be given to the pianist."
Clara only now noticed as the first girl clicked her way to the piano in her tap shoes that most of the group had sheets of music. She had none. She'd forgotten them. Oh no! She'd have to perform without music! Her body started to tremble and it only got worse as girl after girl gave performances, most of them really good. Then suddenly it was her turn.
"I don't have any music," she said calmly, walking to centre stage like the others girls before her. She was the first to perform without music. "I shall recite first. The Tyger by William Blake." Her feet settled automatically into one of her ballet positions and her hangs hung naturally at her side, ready to do the actions she'd worked out for the poem to bring some more life to it, adding to her voice and her facial expressions (practised in front of the mirror),
"Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thin eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? And what dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?"
When she finished her hands settled back at her sides and she waited a few moments to see if there was going to be any comment like some of the other girls had had. There wasn't so she continued, finding her staring note in her head instead of in the music she began to sing in the silent theatre,
"Some people say he's just a crazy guy.
To me he means a million other things,
For he's the one who taught
This happy heart of mine to fly.
He wear a pair of silvers wings.
And though it's pretty tough,
The job he does above,
I wouldn't have him change it for a King.
An ordinary fellow in a uniform I love.
He wears a pair of silver wings.
Why, I'm so full of pride
When we go walking
Every time he's home on leave.
He with those wings on his tunic
And me with my heart on my sleeve.
But when I'm left alone
And we are far apart
I sometimes wonder
What tomorrow brings.
For I adore that crazy guy who taught
My happy heart
To wear a pair of silver wings.
For I adore that crazy guy who taught
My happy heart
To wear a pair of silver wings."
She finished to silence once more but she tried not to think on it, focusing on the fact that she had only made three wrong notes in the whole song. A much better job than some of the girls with musical accompaniment had done. There was once again no feedback from the men watching her and taking notes so she settled into her first position and hummed the music of her dance piece quietly to herself.
It was a nice routine, one that she'd helped figure out herself with her ballet teacher. All of her best moves were used but not in one continuous block like a couple of the earlier girls had done, spreading them out throughout the piece with simpler movers between them, linking them. Her big finish as her teacher had dubbed it was eight pirouettes; four at regular speed and four sped up so that she was almost a blur. It was difficult and she'd stumbled a couple of times in practise but now, when it really mattered, she pulled it off perfectly. She was panting as she relaxed from her final pose and looked to the three men.
"Thank you very much."
Her jaw dropped open in shock as some of the other girls laughed, all of the girls before her had got more than that, much more than that! She'd poured her heart and sole out, overcome a difficulty of forgetting her music and all she got was a 'thank you very much'. But instead of protesting she closed her mouth and returned to her place in the line, her head held high. She didn't pay that much attention to the rest of the audition, worrying about her own. It was obvious they hadn't like her but why? She was a much better dancer than any of the other girls here and her singing was good. Maybe her poem had let her down, as she feared it would.
"Thank you very much girls. If you'd like to wait there for a few moments more while my colleagues and I make out decision," the eldest man said loudly to the girls and then they were lost in their own conversation, pointing to their notes every now and then, arguing over who they thought was right for the roles.
"Who do you think go the parts?" the girl to her left asked in a whisper.
"I don't know. Not me anyway. They didn't like me," Clara whispered back.
"How do you know that?" the girl asked with a frown.
"They didn't say anything to me," Clara shrugged, "Maybe I'm too short."
"You are the smallest girl here," the other girl giggled. Clara smiled at her, knowing that the girl didn't mean it nastily, she was just making conversation, "But it's better than being the tallest girl. That girl down there, the one who was late looks more like an adult than a child. She won't get her part."
"You're right, she is very tall," Clara agreed partly. She however thought that Francine or whatever her name was could play her part despite being tall.
"Thank you for waiting girls. Now our decision has been made but if you did not get the part and still want to take part in the production you may audition for the chorus this afternoon. The part of the Fair Godmother will be played by Frances O'Connor and the understudy will be June Templeton," the older man said loudly. The girl beside Clara gasped loudly,
"That's me! I'm the understudy!" she hissed, covering her mouth in shock.
"Well done," Clara whispered to her as the man went on.
"The Prince will be played by Helen Seaver and Caroline Bingham will be the understudy," there was more happy gasps as this was announced, "And Cinderella shall be play by Clara Brown and the understudy will be Becky O'Connor."
"What?" Clara asked loudly, "Me?" She was in shock because she couldn't believe it, the other girls who had gotten no parts were in shock because they had believed as she had, that they hadn't liked her performance.
"If those six would remain on stage we shall discuss your contracts, your rehearsal schedules and your pay. The rest of you may leave or wait to audition for the chorus," the man said as he and his companions walked up the steps onto the stage. The girls who didn't get the parts grumbled as they left the stage, a couple running off in tears.
Clara was in a kind of shock as she listened to the contracts being organised, the rehearsal schedules handed out and the pay discussed. She'd done it. She was Cinderella! When they were released, each girl holding a copy of the contract for their parents to sign and a written rehearsal schedule Clara all but skipped to her shoes. She ignored the glares she got from the other girls and switched her shoes and pulled her coat on, folding the pieces of paper carefully and putting them in her safest pocket. Typing her ballet shoes ribbons together she hung them around her neck and left the theatre, a broad grin on her face as she walked to the bus stop.
She was an actress!
~ * ~ * ~
"Where have you been you wicked child? We've been worried sick!" her mother screamed as she walked through the front door. There were dried tears on her cheeks and her hair was a mess. Kathleen wasn't much better, only Arthur seemed his normal self. "I asked you where you've been Clara!"
"I went to my audition," she answered calmly, standing boldly before her angry mother who was now doing an impression of a goldfish.
"You…went…to…you…audition?" she asked slowly, each word filled with more anger than Clara had ever heard in her mothers voice before.
"Yes."
Her mother's hand moved too quickly for Clara to anticipate and her face snapped to the side from the stinging slap she'd just received. She screamed in anger and pain as her mother grabbed her by the ear and dragged her up to the room she shared with Kathleen.
"You'll stay in here till your father gets home and hears about this! He'll take his belt to you, you disobedient girl!" her mother screamed, throwing Clara into the room. The key turned in the lock and Clara was trapped in her room.
"Don't you want to know how I did?" Clara screamed at the door but her mother was already walking away, back downstairs. She screamed loudly and threw herself face down on her bed, her ballet shoes digging in painfully to her chest and sobbed her heart out into her pillow.
~ * ~ * ~
She was still lying on her bed two hours later only she'd kicked off her shoes and got rid of her coat. Her ballet shoes were hanging on the headboard like they usually did. In her hands were the two important sheets of paper she had been given and she had been staring at them now for almost an hour, tears dripping down her cheeks in a steady stream. Didn't they care at all how she did?
The sound of the key turning in the lock warned her before the door was thrown open and her furious father walked in, his belt hanging from his hand.
"I have been worried sick about you all day! And now your mother tells me you went to your audition, an audition I ordered you not to go to! By God how did we ever raise such a selfish little brat?" he asked himself angrily.
"Don't any of you care how I did?" she screamed at him, jumping up from her bed to glare at him, the bits of paper scrunching up slightly in her hands. His only answer was an angry shout before he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her over the bed. She screamed back at him as he held her shoulders down, letting go of the papers to scratch at his hand as the other one raised the belt.
"It's obvious you need to be taught a real lesson in obedience. I've obviously waited too long to do this," he growled down at her before bringing the belt down against her bottom, hard. She screamed, new tears of pain falling. He'd never belted any of them, never thought they deserved the punishment he'd gotten as a boy. But this was different. He hit the back of her legs and her bottom twelve times with his belt and then jerked himself away from her, crying every bit as much as she was.
"Don't you…care…how I did?" she wailed up at him. He went to leave. "I got the part! I'm Cinderella!" He stopped and turned to look at her, watched as she picked up the discarded contract and shoved it into his free hand, "I'm going to be paid five pounds a week! Five whole pounds! That's as much as you get! Don't you care at all how well I did today?" Slowly he took the contract from her but didn't say anything; instead he left the room and locked the door behind him. "I hate you all! I hate you!" she screamed at the door before throwing herself onto her bed and crying into her pillow even worse than before.
~ * ~ * ~
Her family had been angry with her for a long time after her 'little stunt' as they called it but they grudgingly allowed her to do the pantomime, the money she would be bringing in swaying their minds in the end. It was only when Kathleen ran away to the ATS that they finally began to be nice to her again, their anger and worry transferring to their older daughter who had hidden the date of her medical, gone to it instead of going to her work, passed with flying colours and run away when she was meant to be going to work.
"That horrible, horrible girl! How dare she disobey us like that!" their father snapped the night after Kathleen had run away, leaving them a note telling them not to worry about her, that she was fine and would write when she had settled in.
"She got the idea from Clara," Arthur laughed from where he was curled up in front of the fire reading one of his favourite books.
"No she didn't. I didn't run away. I just went to my audition. I came home," Clara argued back, her foot moving almost subconsciously as she rehearsed some of her many ballet poses in front of the living room fire.
"Shut up you two! She can't have gone without our permission!" their mother shouted, "She's only eighteen-years-old, surely she needed our permission! A signature or something!"
"Apparently not," Arthur muttered.
"Go to your room if you can't keep your mouth shut my boy!" their father snapped and Arthur went, taking his book with him. "I'll go the ATS recruitment stand and ask what can be done about getting her brought back home."
They tried but nothing could be done, Kathleen had done an excellent forgery of her fathers signature and the ATS Recruitment lady didn't want to have to deal with all the hassle so she simply told Mr Brown that nothing could be done. He was not happy about this but couldn't do anything but accept it, similar to how he'd accepted Clara's part in the pantomime.
Now the pantomime was a great success and in the end it ran for an extra month than had been planned. Clara felt that she was in heaven, all the attention was on her and she cut out every review from the papers, cherishing the ones that mentioned her the most. It went to her head more than a little bit and she found herself ordering people around much more than she used to…not that they paid any attention to her or did what she said. Especially her family, they treated her exactly the same, particularly when it came to washing up duty. The only person to do everything she said was June but she always seemed happy to do anything for the girl whose part she was understudying. Only twice did June have to go on instead of Clara when she was in bed with a cold and couldn't possibly sing or dance.
Clara was said when it came to an end but the producer of the pantomime promised he would telephone her at home with the dates of the principal auditions for the next play they were doing that she could be in. Returning to school full time after having been part time for so long was a little strange but she didn't mind, everyone now treated her with a sort of respect. She'd been a lead in a real play; she'd done what they all dreamed of. A couple of the girls were openly jealous and called her names, their favourite being 'stuck-up-china-doll'. This hurt Clara a little, she didn't think she'd changed that much in doing the show but of course she couldn't see what everyone else could see, she'd had a taste of the limelight and she craved it subconsciously now. She wouldn't fit in with a chorus again.
It was a month after the show had closed when the producer had rung with the audition dates for the production of Peter Pan the company was putting on. She was to audition for Wendy Darling and the very instant she hung the phone up she was planning her audition pieces even though the audition wasn't for two months.
Two days after that phone call she was "dead".
~ * ~ * ~
"Mummy, do you think I should wear white or pink to my audition?" Clara asked as the family sat down for their evening meal of Spam fritters, cabbage and carrots. "Wendy wears a night dress so I want to wear something similar so they can see that I would look right for the part."
"Won't all the girls be doing that?" her mother asked sensibly.
"Hmm," Clara said thoughtfully, blowing on a bit of cabbage she'd scooped onto her fork before popping it into her mouth, "Maybe your right. I guess I could wear a little summer dress in red or blue. That would look alright wouldn't it?"
"Enough! No more talk about auditions or plays or dresses at the dinner table!" her father snapped, interrupting her mothers response, "You'll wear what you wear and don't make such a fuss about it."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, no one able to think of something to say to break the silence. In the end no one needed to, the Air Raid Siren sounding loudly at the end of their road interrupted it for them. Clara and Arthur went to stand up but their father interrupted again,
"We'll not waist good food. Finnish your dinners and then we'll go out to the shelter," he ordered. Clara's eyes went wide, she'd seen bombed out houses and watched bodies being carried from them. Staying inside instead going out to the Anderson Shelter in their little garden wasn't the sensible idea.
"John…" her mother said quietly, her thoughts the same as her daughters.
"We'll finish our meals first! I'll not let bloody Hitler interrupt another one of my meals!" he shouted, banging the table with his big fist. Clara and Arthur ate quickly, listening to the bombs dropping far too close for comfort. Their mother barely ate anything more, trembling in her seat and glancing towards the back door every now and then. Only their father ate as if nothing were wrong.
"That was a close one," Arthur said as the table and every other bit of furniture jumped after the last bomb. "End of the street, I'm sure of it."
"John…"
"I'm not finished yet!" he snapped at them, shovelling a Spam fritter into his mouth as the table jumped again. Clara was crying now, she wanted to be in the shelter on her bunk bed. The shelter was safe… All of the front windows shattered and Clara screamed, automatically dropping of her chair and hiding under the table.
"John!" their mother screamed.
"Bloody hell!" Arthur shouted, falling off his chair too.
"Fucking Hitler!" their father shouted loudly.
And then the bomb with their names on it hit.
~ * ~ * ~
"When will this end?" Cossette asked as she walked arm in arm with Daniel down the street, seemingly ignorant of the air raid going on around them.
"I don't know my love," Daniel answered. They were out looking for a meal, someone hurt in the bombing that people would assume had died from their injuries caused by the Air Raid. "Can you smell that?" he asked suddenly, his nose perking up. There was the delicious scent of spilled blood in the air.
"Yes, it's coming from that house," Cossette nodded to what had once been a house but was no more. "Three…no four. Enough for the three of us."
"Two," Daniel corrected automatically.
"Two of course. I keep forgetting that Thomas isn't with us," Cossette nodded as they both began to search the rubble for the people the inviting scent was coming from, "Then again I kept forgetting when he went away for the last war." Thomas had signed up with the army again when this war had broken out and had been sent over seas again and again. Often he was the only survivor of a squad or patrol, simply due to the fact that he couldn't actually die. He was as he'd said before joining the war the last time, a very good soldier to have.
"I've found one," Daniel said as he uncovered a man bleeding badly from a deep neck wound. His lips were almost instantly attached to the pulsing artery, drinking eagerly from the dying man.
"Here's another," Cossette said as she found a woman, her neck snapped, "No good, dead already." She kept searching and soon found a teenage boy, his legs cut off above the knee, blood pumping out of the stumps invitingly. Cossette however wouldn't drink from anything but the neck or wrist so using her sharp teeth she pierced his neck and sucked the blood from him before it could drip out of his legs.
"Delicious," Daniel moaned, licking his lips.
"Very," Cossette agreed.
"Who-Who are you?" the quiet voice made both of them jump away from the bodies, their eyes searching the rubble for the own of the voice. "Wh-What are you doing to my brother?" Cossette noticed the eyes first, looking out from under the remains of the big table. Easily she pulled it away and revealed a girl bleeding only slightly from various cuts all over her body.
"Feeding," Cossette answered honestly.
"Feeding?" the big eyes looked at her worriedly.
"He was already going to die," Cossette continued, for some reason wanting to calm this child they would have to kill or have their secret announced to the world. Even as she spoke to the girl Daniel was moving around behind her, ready to pounce.
"What are you?" the little girl asked, a small hand reaching up to brush the dust from her face and then to shake out her hair. For a few moments Cossette couldn't speak, this little girl was so…perfect. She was beautiful and Cossette felt the same mothering feeling in her chest she felt when she looked at Thomas.
"We are Vampires," Cossette eventually answered.
"Are you evil?"
"Not really."
"But you killed my brother," the girl pointed out.
"He was already dying," Cossette said again.
"Would you have killed him if he wasn't already dying?"
"…yes."
"And you're not really evil?" the girl asked, an eyebrow rising adorably.
"We only kill when we need to feed. We don't kill for fun like some of you mortals," Cossette explained to the girl. Daniel was watching the exchange in complete silence, like Cossette fascinated by the little doll of a girl.
"Mortals?" the girl asked confused.
"People who die."
"You don't die?" the girl asked surprised.
"No," Cossette shook her head.
"Oh," the girl looked around now, looking over her shoulder and gasping when she saw how close Daniel was, "Are you-Are you going to kill me too?" Neither of them answered. "Oh."
"What's your name?" Cossette asked suddenly.
"Clara Brown," the little girl answered.
"How old are you Clara?" Daniel frowned at his wife; they should just get it over and done with. Learning about the girl would only make it hurt more.
"Twelve." Daniel knew exactly what his wife was thinking at that moment, he didn't need to be psychic to see her thoughts when it came to children. She wanted children like any mortal woman did and this child…well her family was dead and people would simply assume she was too. But…
"She's too young Cossette," he said, meeting his wife's gaze.
"How young is too young? Who decides that?" Cossette answered back.
"Too young to what? Die?" Clara asked, her body shaking now. She was almost definitely in shock from both the bombing and what she was hearing.
"No. No one's too young to die," Cossette said almost sadly.
"Too young to join us," Daniel explained.
"Join you?" Clara asked shocked, "Is that possible? Aren't you born a vampire?" Obviously she'd never heard any of the stories floating around about Vampires or she'd already know the answer to that.
"No, you aren't born a vampire in the way you are thinking. To become a vampire you must first be bitten and then you must die from that bite," Daniel explained, leaning in close to Clara's neck.
"Sounds painful," Clara said, leaning away from him.
"It is," he said, continuing to lean closer.
"But it has it's rewards," Cossette said, glaring at her husband before he could kill the girl. The attraction she felt towards Clara was steadily growing, this little girl had captured her heart the same way Thomas had all those years ago. "An eternal life of youth and beauty. Enhanced senses. We even sparkle in the sunlight."
"Sparkle?" Clara asked.
"Like our skin is made of diamonds," Cossette said enticingly.
"Wow…"
"It's not going to happen Cossette," Daniel snapped.
"Why not? You let me turn Thomas. You agreed when we turned Thomas," Cossette protested. Clara looked back and forth between the two, her head beginning to swim slightly. She didn't feel too good…
"I agreed because he was an adult and was already near death. She is nothing more than a child, it would be wrong to trap in the form of a child for eternity, never to grow up…" Daniel said, his voice softer.
"She won't grow up anyway, she'll die tonight!" Cossette snapped. "Daniel please, at least let her choose…"
"No."
"I don't feel so good," Clara mumbled and both vampires turned to look at her very pale face, all the colour had apparently drained out in seconds. Daniel sniffed loudly and then made a small noise of understanding,
"Internal bleeding," he said quietly to Cossette.
"Please let me save her Daniel. Please," Cossette looked up at him pleadingly. They stared at each other for long moments before finally he sighed and looked away.
"Do it if you really want to but know I do not approve of turning one so young, even if she is dying or would have had to die by our hands anyway," Daniel told her, moving away from his wife and the little girl. Cossette eagerly pulled Clara into her arms, running her white fingers through the golden curls.
"Do you want to join us Clara? Do you want to become my vampire daughter?" Cossette asked softly.
"I already have a mother, she's…" Clara looked around and her eyes found her mothers body, the wide eyes staring back as her own filled with tears, "Oh. Did you…?" Cossette shook her head.
"She was already dead."
"Oh." She was finding it hard to keep her eyes open now.
"So would you like to join us?" Cossette asked again.
"Yes please," Clara whispered, "I'm…I'm scared to die."
"I know." Cossette whispered, leaning down to the delicious smelling neck, the temptation to drink her dry overwhelming her for a second before her motherly instincts pushed it down. She wanted to care for Clara and raise her as her own daughter. Not eat her. "This will hurt but I promise I will be here with you until it is all right." Clara nodded and then gave a little scream as Cossette bit into her neck as gently as she could. Soon she leaned back, licking the sweet blood from her lips as Clara gave a loud whimper,
"Hurts."
"I know. Just let my bite do it's work. I'm here. I'll hold you till it's over," Cossette said reassuringly.
"We should take her back to the house. We don't want her waking up a newborn on a busy street," Daniel said, walking to the remarkably clear pavement in front of the wrecked house. Easily Cossette lifted the whimpering Clara into her arms and joined her husband. They were silent as they walked home.
~ * ~ * ~
Clara was a difficult newborn, learning to be very sneaky very quickly. But thankfully she learned to stay hidden early on too, sticking to the bombsites like they taught her to, never eating anyone in uniform as they were easily missed. By the end of the war she was in complete control of her actions and didn't have to fight as hard not to eat the tempting people she bumped into. Of course she had a few lapses, more than the others when her childish ways took over briefly and she thought 'Why not?' In those three and a half years of being a vampire Cossette never once regretted turning Clara and Daniel had quickly forgotten his own protestations and fallen in love with the little girl who was becoming more and more like a daughter to him.
They only ever had one big problem (One big recurring problem) with Clara and that was that she still wanted to dance on the stage and be the centre of attention. Of course this was impossible, rehearsals took place during the day time and there were matinee performances. There would also be a lot of spilt blood as there always was back stage, cuts and scrapes that would be far too tempting. So Cossette and Daniel had had to say no to performing but they would never say no to dancing. Clara took evening lessons with a private teacher, Cossette watching from the corner of the room just in case and now with her extra abilities she was soon the most amazing ballerina Cossette had ever seen. And she never got tired, she could dance for days at a time and still be ready for more (not that her teacher knew this of course).
With the war over Thomas returned and he and Clara almost immediately got on, Thomas seeing so much of his little sisters in her and Clara glad to have a nice older brother, much nice than Arthur her real brother she was quickly forgetting had been. But the problem with Thomas's return in 1948 was that he didn't return alone, he brought the young vampire Ilsa with him…
A/N There we go…and the chapters really long again. What's wrong with me? Oh well. One more completely A/U chapter and then the real story begins.