Sorry for the long wait. But first, Fanfiction Error 2, and right after I recover…boom. FF Error 1.
No one reviews…
Somebody. ANYBODY. Please, please, please review. I'm depressed and angry and guilty all at the same time. Reviews make me marginally happy. PLEASE! ANYBODY! HELP!
J: Dear story, I have decided that I will keep you posted on the stories of the day. This way, no one will be able to write except for me, which will aggravate the others exceptionally, but never mind. Today I—
T: Jane?
J: Sorry for the interruption, that was Thomas writing over my shoulder. Rest assured, story, this will be the last you hear of Thomas today. Moving on, this is not a diary, or a journal. I will call you story, because it is the story of my modern life. In addition, I—
L: Jane?
J: That was Luke. I will make sure that no one befouls you again, rest assured, dear story. But where was I? Oh, yes. Now—
O: Jane, you may leave now.
J: Pay no heed to mother. She is just mad because yesterday I almost—
O, L, T, K, M: JANE! NOW!
J: SHEESH! Fine! I am sorry, story, but it seems, because my family is so cruel, I—
All: JAAAANE!
O: Move out of the way! Now!
Bounding off the ship, Thomas cheered as his foot reached dry land. The journey had taken months, and he was very glad that, at long last, he was on something that WASN'T going to bob up and down continuously. At the very least, he was glad he wasn't sea sick. The residents of Cabin 4 must have been exceptionally mad with their daughter for the last couple of weeks. Thomas would have been too.
Laughing his way onto port, he screeched to a dusty stop right next to a very unhappy fishmonger. Glaring at him, the tips of his long, drooping mustache quivering slightly, he turned back to calling. "Fish for sale! Get them now!"
Thomas abandoned the heavily accented seller as he bounced backward and forward across the street, still not completely certain that the Earth wouldn't suddenly start rocking back and forth like a bigger version of a boat.
"Would you stop it?"hissed Katherine. "We came here to not pull attention to ourselves!"
Thomas paid no attention, to high on his adrenaline to answer. Racing back and forth through street after street, he turned back to see Katherine's progress and hurtled right into yet another street seller. A large, moldy wooden crate containing a pile of beets fell to the Earth with a crash, contents racing everywhere.
"Those be very rare turnips!" said the man in a heavy Portuguese accent. "They cost many money!"
Thomas made a show of turning his pockets inside out. "Um, I'm new here, so I don't have any of your currency yet…" he trailed off as the man's hand came up. Thomas felt almost certain he was going to be slapped.
Then, a small white hand lowered onto the sunburned wrist. Thomas let his eyes trail all the way to the face.
She had pale skin and warm brown eyes rimmed with tints of hazel that pointed slyly at the end, like she was plotting something mischievous. There was a small smirk on her face, framed by dark sienna locks. A pointed nose, and a couple of splashes of freckles were also visible. A gown made of old cloth reached to her feet. She smiled.
"Father," the girl scolded gently. "It is fine. He is new. He does not yet know the value of them. We can compensate." She slowly lowered her hand. "Please."
The man closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly walked back to the stall as the girl led Thomas away. As soon as they were out of earshot, Thomas sighed in relief. "Thanks for taking care of that."
The girl smiled sadly. "Father was not always like that. He just curdled a bit over the years." She shook her head, as if trying to get rid of a memory. "I'm Louisa," she smiled.
Thomas stuck out his hand. "Thomas…Cahill," he replied, tacking on the last name. This girl couldn't possibly be one of Luke's spies.
Louisa laughed. "You are strange, Thomas Cahill. In a good way. I saw you today on the dock." She let go of his hand and began to turn around and return to her father. "I will see you again," called Louisa. "People here always meet with the ones they want somewhere in the town."
Thomas heard a small box open in the back of his head: You've finally got yourself a girl, Thomas? And you needed to go all the way to Portugal—the ones in the neighborhood just weren't good enough for you?
It was his father's voice.
What had Louisa said? People here always meet with the ones they want somewhere in the town.
Lowering the hand he had been absentmindedly waving, Thomas trekked his way back to Katherine. And as he did, he searched around in his soul, and found that, in his encounter with the elfin lady, her burden had lessened slightly.
Jane stumbled into the rat-filled streets of London with an air of unrest, suspicion, drowsiness, and cautious victory. Finally, after weeks of the cheap hotel accommodations, she had finally grasped the chance she had been waiting so long for. A nauseating sort of smell wafted to her nose as a lady dumped a chamber pot out into the streets. Ducking away from the stench, Jane ran down another alleyway, pulling a face at the doorway of a nearby pub. Running as far away as fast as she could, she stumbled into a street, only to find she was alone. Almost immediately, she felt a hand grab the hood of her robe and pull her into the crowds surrounding the two sides of the road.
"What's going on?" She shrieked wildly as people pressed around her, the smell of sweat and tears overwhelming her, almost drowning her.
"Haven't you heard?" asked a nearby boy. "Archduke Charles is coming on his way to the castle! He's going to go woo the Princess Mary!"
Ducking into the crowd, pushing as hard as she could, she raced to the front and managed to squeeze a space. Admittedly, she was quite interested in the new match Henry had found for his lavished child.
The first person she noticed was a thin man with classic "royalty" clothing with twinkling eyes and curly brown hair and a small, pointed goatee.
The second person she noticed was a boy, older than her, with dark black eyes and soot colored hair of the same shade.
Jane knew him so well it was frightening.
Without a second thought, she ducked back through the crowd and ran. Just ran as far away as she could from the past ten years of her life.
But not before Luke's dark black eyes caught her own brown ones.
As she ran, the brown journal of Luke Cahill weighed harder than ever on her back.
J: Does he really have to write?
L: HA! Victory! You have proven the great Jane Cahill wrong!
T: Luke…just hurry up. Maddie's gonna wet herself in excitement otherwise.
M: Am I really that excited?
K: Yes. Write, Luke.
Being marched through the streets on those giant movable chairs that Gideon and Luke had always made fun of was actually very comfortable.
Sitting behind Archduke Charles, whom he had only seen once, he surveyed the crowd coldly, keeping the excitement inside to the bare minimum. Thousands of people, staring at him in an interested way, wanting to know him more—soon, he would have more than thousands. Someday, there would be more, and all would be under the rule of Luke Cahill.
Then, a flash of violent red caught his eye.
Cricking his neck, Luke's eyes glinted madly as he turned to find a small Jane Cahill standing in the crowd, cheering on the duke with everyone else. Then, her eyes caught onto Luke's own.
There was a flash of indecision, anger, and pain—then she disappeared. Gone. His last tie to his family had run away at his very face.
It took Luke a second to make a fleeting decision. Leaning sideways, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Annie. "I'd rather leave."
The maid, who had become his personal assistant, nodded and turned to the servants that were hoisting up his chair. Within seconds, Luke and Annie were left for a walk home.
Whisking into the room, Luke nodded to Edward and shrugged of the thick cloak he had managed to extract from his travelling bag, despite Charles' protests. He handed it to Edward, bowed, and walked up to his room, looking for a place to sleep.
A dark, cold place where he, for once, wouldn't be able to dream his reoccurring nightmare.
O: My turn!
M: What are you writing about?
K: You'll see…
T: *Mutters* We don't need you to wet your pants in excitement…
Olivia gathered the bundle in her arms, shaking slightly.
So here was Madeleine.
The only thing left of her family was a shell—her future crushed to pieces before she was even born.
Olivia was going to raise her right, regardless.
Looking down at the girl, she smiled sadly as it cooed from inside the swathed blankets.
Then Olivia gasped.
On her head, there was a soft sort of downy hair—but it was red. Fire red. Jane red. Her mouth was set in a comical smile, like the one Luke might have worn on his better days. The girl had Katherine's small nose, plump cheeks, and dimple. And, when she kicked, her strength almost matched that of Thomas.
It's a good thing she's strong, thought the mother. She'll need it, to make it far in this world.
But the final blow—the one that made Olivia set Madeleine down and burst into tears—was her eyes.
Gideon Cahill's eyes.
M: I HAVE COME INTO THE WORLD!
T: See, this is exactly why we didn't tell you beforehand!
O: Yes, you came into the world. About 500 years ago, might I add.
J: Why didn't you let me continue my journal?
K: Hey, I didn't get to write at all!
L: Yeah, Tom got her slit, what with him obsessing over his darling Louisa and all.
T: Real funny, Luke. Weren't you the one who fell in love with that old—
G: THOMAS! Don't give it away!
L: Oh, hey dad! Since when did you come in?
G: Since Maddie made that disturbing comment!
M: Not everything I say is disturbing! What I said before wasn't disturbing!...Oh, wait, it was disturbing, wasn't it?
R&R?
