Danke, rezensent!
This chappie is dedicated to you, my faithful reviewer, (you know who you are) and all those people who added this fic to their faves. Lub ya all.
DISCLAIMER: The usual. Trust me I don't want the possession of the series. I still like the very arcane Jez Stukeley. So I shall continue for his sake.
Sigh.
Man, am I getting crazy? Sometimes I wish the fictional characters really existed so I could ask them what they were feeling. Writing about the maelstrom of a character's quite exhausting.
Chapter Nine: The Other
It felt like someone was pounding the side of her head with an axe. Someone who obviously possessed murderous hate for her and wanted to kill her. Not convenient. Ouch.
They had said the end felt like the beginning. Grace wasn't quite sure what they'd meant by that. Was it possible that when she died, she'd find the answer to that? She wasn't suicidal-or homicidal-whatever, by nature. But to bear this much pain? For the very first time in her life, she wished she could die.
Flashes after flashes of broken bits of memories and scenario of chaos tumbled in front of her vision, clashed with red and black and violent, poisonous green. Echoes of heart-felt screams-all in the past now, still resounded in her ears until she thought she couldn't take it anymore.
Grace had escaped the burning ship alright. The whole idea-the Nocturne burning-was rather surreal. Absurd. It was something her rabid father hadn't been able to achieve. Sidorio had been quite determined to destroy this majestically ancient ship. Hell-bent was the correct word. If it hadn't been for Connor, she had a pretty clear idea that they'd all be sawdust. Or food for the marine creatures. It wasn't a nice picture.
But hey, now? Grace just couldn't believe that the evitable nightmare had transformed into the inevitable one. As it started to sink in, she shuddered with unrepressed horror.
The world seemed to be tilting to and fro slightly.
Then the pain lanced through her left thigh, like a splinter getting stuck deeply in her leg muscle, making her cry out. Then, as quickly as it had come, it vanished.
Before she knew it, her eyes sprang open. Grace was panting, looking up at two golden orbs.
"There," Leo said gently, smiling. "That okay?"
She managed a weak nod before her eyes crashed shut again. She drifted into an abyss.
::-.-::
His eyes felt sore. But he strained them anyway, ruffling through the stacks of ancient paper. The smell of dust was strong in his nose. But it didn't matter. He'd found it finally.
He carefully took the frail map out from the pages of an old diary, her diary, to be exact. He knew he shouldn't be snooping, but this urge had won. He was the Captain of this ship. He had absolute right to go through anything of any member of his Crew.
He was sprawled at the edge of the bed, his long legs crossed on the wooden floor. A blanket-which had clearly been stolen from the bed, draped around his shoulders like a heavy, comforting cape.
To anyone who might look at Jez Stukeley now, would only stare at him. It wasn't that he looked too human, or sick, or whatever. It was something that had changed him from the inside, like black ink diffusing into every cell of his body. His short dark hair were mussed, falling into his eyes. His skin had a pale pallor, marble-white. Dark smudges under his eyes symbolised how much he'd suffered from her loss, but nothing more.
He hadn't grown any weaker, which was strange because he hadn't taken any blood since her disappearance. He had had the lust for it, still had it, but it seemed to be dying away now. Still, he felt just like he had when he'd been woken as a creature of the night. Fresh. Alive…young.
Lost.
Distant.
Gone.
He felt as if he was crumbing away, ebbing into the time that would never end. It hurt him, but he shut his feelings down, only to allow numbness take over.
As he was pulling out the map Natalie and her brother Rae had found in the cargos of the Nocturne, he caught a word in the pages of her diary. He stopped, heart palpitating. He shouldn't read it. He knew that. But curiosity got better of him.
And curiosity killed the cat, he thought. But I'm already dead. Woo-hoo.
Setting the sheaf aside, his thumbed the page open. He saw her neat writing, and then a little sketch at the bottom.
A boy and a girl, standing hand in hand, looking up at the sun. The wind had messed up their hair and clothes, but he could see that they looked happy. Content. Jez hadn't known that Natalie could draw before. This was interesting, because she'd gotten most of the details perfect. She'd made a drawing of herself with Connor Tempest.
He's been nice to me ever since he found out what I am. Grace had reckoned that he'd probably freak out, which he hadn't. I think we're closer than ever before. We trust each other; understand each other without any words. It's like we're telepathic. I would be sitting at the table, and he'd be looking at me with that adorable musing expression on his face, and he'd know that I was getting bored. And he'd transform the whole core of the conversation, just for me.
I think it's because of what happened a few days ago. When I couldn't find my donor Art, Con offered to be a substitute. Was that some hidden gesture? I have to know. He's one of my best friends here, besides Rae and Grace. We're a rather tight circle, with Darcy and Lorcan thrown in. Did they notice this about Con too or is it just my imagination that his feelings have changed…?
Jez stopped reading.
He shut the little diary, stuck it back under the mattress and got up. He shoved the map in his pocket and shrugged off her blanket. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't…
A bond.
So she'd had multiple bonds. Was that even possible? Why hadn't she ever mentioned it to Jez before? Why had she lied to him? The worst thing about being lied to was that he wasn't worth the truth in her eyes. Had he failed her that miserably?
Jez forced the lump down his throat which had the consistency to form repeatedly these days. His entire jaw hurt. He wanted to feed. Now.
But…he couldn't. His will crumbled up instantly. His thirst evaporated, leaving him standing there, weak and shaking.
There was a knock on the door.
Cecil came inside with the quiet way she had. She analyzed the haphazard state of the cabin carefully then at his face.
"Jez, hon," she began softly. "You've got to stop this charade."
"I can't." Was it his voice breaking? Or was it his heart? He couldn't tell. "Help me, Cecil. Please."
Cecil, in all her years with this strong, independent Vampirate, had never seen him in such a vulnerable , who'd always helped the ones weaker than him, had always lent a hand to anyone who was in need. True, he'd been beyond evil in his past, but the past had faded now. This was a confused, transformed man. A man who'd been badly broken.
Cecil didn't hate that girl exactly, but she'd never say that she'd liked him either in the first place. That girl had been weird, with her wide, multi-shaded violet eyes and a faraway expression which made her look so innocent. Natalie Velde was everything but innocent. Her life hadn't exactly been a memorable journey, but it didn't been that she'd have to rub it o Jez too. Cecil felt a fierce protectiveness rise inside her, for this man, who'd saved her life from the edges of swords alone.
So she stepped ahead and did what neither she nor Jez had ever thought she would do.
Cecil hugged him.
He was way taller than her, her hear only came up to his chest. He was deathly cold. Trying not to shiver, she tightened her hold and felt him break from the inside.
"She didn't want me," he moaned.
"Ssh," Cecil soothed. "We're gonna get you someone better. What she did wasn't right, leaving you like that, but now cela ne fait rien."
A silent sob. She felt him shudder as he battled within himself not to show this to her.
"It does though, Cecise."
"To you, sans doute." Her eyes were bright. "But not to her."
"She could be dead," Jez began, his voice cracking. "Or alone, thirsty-"
There was a loud rap on the door. Before Jez could wipe the wetness away from his cheeks, Kenyon poked his head in.
"You decent-?" He paused. "Jez? Have you been howling your lungs out again? Mate, she'll turn up. Females have a legacy of turning up at wrong moments. Don't need to lose your manly dignity now."
"Sh-," Jez caught himself. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell them this. "What do you want?"
Kenyon cautiously eased himself into the room and shut the door behind him. "Mariana hinted that you two were in here. I wanted to make sure that you just weren't getting cosy or something. And oh-we're going to get in a storm for awhile. It may get us off the course when we leave. The coast is checked, so is the forest. No sign of her. I think you should check this out yourself, Captain."
"Right." Jez sighed inwardly. Where was she? Cecil's hand touched his shoulder gently. For a moment he could not muster up the courage to look in her eyes. God, had he lost it? Embarrassment flooded through him like a tidal wave. He couldn't remember the time when he'd cried over a girl. Ever. But he said it anyway. "Thanks, Cecil."
"No problem."
Jez left her standing in Natalie's cabin. Kenyon followed, talking feverishly. Cecil listened as his voice faded.
Slowly, she turned.
Jez Stukeley had lost control. He was heart-broken, beyond repair now. She'd seen it in his eyes. He'd cried. Almost wistful, she slumped down on Natalie's bed and kneaded her forehead. Jez was like her elder brother-Cecil couldn't bear to watch him like this. He was in his most vulnerable state right now. One more slight push and Jez was doomed. Of course he'd been trying very hard to conceal it, but he didn't know how easily he could be read. And Jez had enemies out there.
That girl had ruined Jez's life.
She would pay.
Soon.
And just as Cecil thought this, she saw something peeking out from under the edge of the mattress. Something dark. Leather bound.
A diary.
This ought to be interesting.
::^^::
Curricles of mist swirled past her feet as she walked through its translucent wall. While it penetrated her surroundings, it seemed to seep through her as well. The cold felt damp against her skin, and flavoured her mouth with brine. It clung to her body like a sodden shawl, its icy air woven into her hair like ribbons.
She was standing at the center of curling clouds of mist, straining her eyes.
"There's someone here," he heard her whisper. The aroma of fear was tangy and spicy around him, and he felt it filter into him too. Conclusively, he laced his fingers with hers because it was all he could do as they stood on the misty dark beach. The time seemed to stretch on, endless like the roaring black waves themselves. For how long had they been standing there? Hours? Days? Weeks? For how long had they both died? The very thought of death made him shudder for he still felt alive, still felt the heat coursing through his veins. He could feel the tiny frantic beats of her heart pulse through her wrist. So how could she imply that they had died?
The wind whipped at them, as if trying to ebb away their fears.
Connor could recall the last time she'd sensed someone coming. It had just been a swirl of wind and rain over the rippling, raging mass of dark sea, an optical illusion. But it had been enough to shake her confidence. She'd got twitchy after that, as if she was aware of someone watching her. For the first time in his life, they'd been facing each other with an awkward silence ensuing between them like an ever-increasing storm cloud.
"He's here," Natalie whispered, her fingers tightening into a fist underneath his, in comparison, large, calloused hand.
Who? He wanted to ask. But his confusion was cleared a minute later as the thick wall of mist began to recede.
The air grew icy cold-which was a euphemism. It sent sharp, painful jabs of pain in his limbs. It took all of his will not to let his knees buckle and curl into a ball, a safe way to avoid whatever was coming his way because he couldn't run anyway.
Three dark figures emerged from the soft white haze of the desolated beach. They were wrapped in dark clothing, covered from head to toe in the black uniform, leaving only their eyes and hair bare. Swords glinted maliciously at their weapons belts. Long, slender-yet deadly swords, which could rip a person into ribbons without any effort. Connor found himself suddenly fascinated instead of scared. What would it feel like to hold them in his hand? His mind shifted to battle mode then, quickly analyzing their posture and searching for tiny, hidden weaknesses he could use against them. These guys were obviously well-trained-they moved like predators on prowl.
"Well, well, well," the middle one in the trio drawled. "What do we have here?"
Connor's blood ran cold.
He knew that voice.
And he'd thought that he'd been murdered by the Pirate Council for his behavioral disobedience and the assassination of the Piracy chairman just because they wouldn't open up another route for him, years ago. Connor had thought that this bloody sting-ray would be kicked straight to the burning and smothering bowels of hell long ago.
But he was standing there, clothed exactly he'd done when they'd cold-bloodedly murdered one of Connor's best mates.
Natalie, of course, didn't know that Connor had known this killing machine once. But it was evident that he'd evoked some kind of terror in her: Nat, who could calmly stare into the death's face, and tell them to do something that, would make even Bart uneasy, who was practically the dictionary of curses that led to endogenous wars.
Captain Draloulis, from the Albatross.
Jez Stukeley's murderer.
::^.^::
The setting sun hid behind the wafting bit of gauzy cloud.
Grace Tempest lay on the sand and stared at it, following it with her emerald-green eyes. She looked quite calm and collected there, on the lonely white beach. The gulls screeched over the roaring waves of the ocean. The wind felt like icy jabs on her skin. She was covered in dried sea-water, so that the salt had crusted in her hair, her clothes and her skin, making everything stiff. Even her eyelashes were stuck together.
Beside her was another girl, pale and extremely exhausted. Her usually perfect bob was all disarray, bits of hair sticking up in weird angles. Her fine clothes were rumpled, her jewellery lost in the sea.
"Kenyon's going to jilt me," she moaned raking her slender fingers through the tangled black mass of her hair. She tried to comb it with her fingers.
"He isn't going to notice," Grace retorted dully. "He hardly notices anything new, Darce. Please stop fussing over yourself. We've just been through a ship-wreck, for God's sake. We saw a ship burn that-that wasn't supposed to burn." Her voice broke.
Darcy sighed loudly. She smoothed out her tattered magenta skirts anyway, and looked down at her friend's forlorn form pityingly. "Grace, darling, I told you that the Nocturne doesn't get destroyed that easily. I've seen it happen countless of times before. The Captain must've gotten the fire in control after we'd jumped and had been swept away by the sea. It happened once. Though, usually some of the crew does get lost during the process. But they always get found. We'll get rescued the moment the Covet appears, and then Jez can help us locate our ship quite easily."
Grace sat up slowly and pushed her auburn hair out of her face. Her skin looked so creamy in contrast to the white sand. "Do you know that they are going to be extremely angry? It's not like they'll censure your appearance right now. We're calling them in the just barely after the sunset. I certainly don't like to ask them to help."
Darcy's dark eyes grew wide with disbelief. "They're our friends, Grace! How can you even think like that?"
But the red-head just turned away sullenly.
"I don't know what's bothering you," Darcy carried on. "I mean, we're here on this island. Safe for now. We've got Leo and Lorcan with us. Why're you complaining? The guys are perfectly fit to save us from any kind of danger. Our ship will find us. Or we'll find it ourselves. I don't know about you, but if the Covet will provide us warm beds, at least. I know they'll be happy to help. They're all nice guys-"
Grace's eyes were dark now. "Oh? Have you forgotten what that bloody leech did to you all those years ago?"
The silence which ensued between was not pleasant at all. Not in the least. It seemed as if the whole world had changed with just those words.
Darcy was one of Grace's best friends. So of course she'd know and expect Grace to behave like this. But-this, this wasn't something Darcy could easily figure out. She'd never seen or heard Grace act like this before. She was taking everything so negatively.
But what stung, was what Grace had just asked her.
Darcy had been sensitive about that for a long while, but she'd forgiven Jez Stukeley for breaking her heart. She loved someone else now, and Jez was now just a friend. An altruistic friend, no less. Jez had reformed in many ways, and all in good ones. Darcy would never want someone to insult him, and Grace-Grace! Had just done so.
And she'd called him a bloody leech.
Darcy had every right to get upset-she was just the same as Jez. Someone who survived in this world by sucking blood out of healthy, living bodied. But that didn't make them leeches. They had donors, donors who were only too happy to oblige. Grace had just called Darcy's kind parasites. Grace could've slapped her and she wouldn't have been this hurt.
There was no need to insult your friend-friend who was going to help them right now-even if you were that upset. Even Connor didn't insult them like this.
"You have no right." Darcy Flotsam's tone had never been so cold. It could've frozen up the sun. "To insult Jez for no reason. It is completely my business of what he did to me all those years ago, and also my business, how I dealt with it. You need to loosen up a bit. And if you want to live among us, watch the filth on your tongue. We're not that patient."
With that, she slid to her feet in one, cat-like motion, gathered up her ruined skirts, and stomped away.
Grace stared at her, her mouth taut.
What had just happened here? She thought, as it begun to sink in. Horror flooded in her. What had she been saying? Of course she…she…
Oh God. Had she just insulted Jez? Jez, who'd always been to nice to her?
Grace shook her head. Her thoughts felt sluggish. Something weird gnawed at her stomach.
What had she just done, insulting her family? For no reason?
What was wrong with her?
"Darcy! Wait, I'm sorry!" she clambered to her feet and ran after her friend.
::^!^::
The island looked deserted, alien. The cold wind brushed by his cold skin, ruffling his clothes and hair. In front of them the sand stretched on into the verdant green forest that was drenched in night shades.
"I can't believe this," Kenyon muttered.
"Pardon?" Jez looked up confusedly at his mate. He was leaning against the tree, his fangs unsheathed and indenting his full lower lip. The coppery scent of blood perfumed the air, filling the night like a bad premonition. Submerged in twilight, his crew flickered through the forest, feeding freely on a village of natives just in the middle of the dense foliage. Feeding like this wasn't an option. Jez had grown tired of seeing his crew get weird like the Nocturners. The crew of the Covet needed something fresher, something with a new taste. This was the perfect opportunity.
They hadn't noticed the village the last time they'd been here.
"You, actually," the deputy turned his pale eyes to the cloudy sky above. "Not feeding at all…for what, three months now? Jeez, Jez. How're you managing without a single drop?"
Love, Jez thought, then pushed that thought away. He shrugged, twining his fingers together. Yes, he…but it didn't matter anymore, admitting it. She didn't feel the same way, and it was the first time ever that Jez had felt something for a girl and she'd rejected him. It was a huge blow, perhaps to his ego, perhaps to his confidence. He'd already stumbled and fallen into her the first time he'd taken her blood into himself. For two years he'd kept it quiet within himself…
"I don't want the bond to break," Jez said finally, his voice soft.
"One course wouldn't, mate," Kenyon assured him kindly. "Your guys are nice and content with their positions or you'd be over thrown in an instant. You're in no condition to-," he paused, freezing. A second later Jez knew why. Something had crunched in the nearby bushes. Like old leaves under a boot.
Jez turned his senses outward, touching everything with his mind. The night had suddenly gone dead-quiet.
Kenyon exhaled. "Anyway, as I was-"
Jez held up a hand, signalling him to be quiet. Kenyon stopped, curious. There was presence there, somewhere. Someone was watching them.
Jez stepped away from the tree, carefully straightening himself. He could sense that someone, a mild presence upon his skin. He shook his head and told Kenyon to carry on anyway.
Kenyon sighed dramatically. "Enough, Sherlock. Even my mother didn't paw through my private life like that. Anyway, you need to feed. I still don't get how you're managing it all. I mean, I'd be long dead by now, if I were you. You're not addicted to blood like the rest of us, as if you're almost immune to-"
This time, Jez Stukeley moved before he heard the leaves rustle again. He pinpointed that being, hidden overhead, in the trees. Whoever it was, it had been there ever since they'd gotten here. It wasn't good. Someone had been spying on them.
His foot collided with the trunk of the tree he'd been leaning against earlier, and there was a sound like an explosion. The tree snapped-and it was pretty thick. If a normal being had done it, they'd have broken their leg into fragments. But supernaturalism helped sometimes.
Kenyon let out a surprised yelp and sprang out of the way just as the tree buckled, and with a loud, resonating snap, fell on the ground. The birds, disturbed, squawked loudly, startled, as they were unsettled.
And there, still under the heavy branches, was a moaning figure.
Jez grabbed her arm before she could get up and before she could struggle, Kenyon who'd finally caught on to what was happening, hooked his leg around her legs to keep her secure. His blade was unsheathed in a flash and a silver gleam and pressed against her throat.
The girl sputtered, a tiny frail sound escaping from her.
"What did you hear?" Jez hissed, not bothering to obscure his fangs.
The girl's eyes widened for a moment, but she was still frightened. "Please-"
"Speak!" Jez ordered, his voice deepening as Kenyon pressed the blade tighter against her flesh. Tears overflowed from the girl's dark eyes.
Now that she wasn't hiding her face from him, Jez could see that she had a tattoo-a black heart-over her right eye. Her hair was long and curly, midnight black against her pale, creamy skin.
She was also a vampire.
"I can help you find her," she gasped.
~Once in finesse of fiddles found I ecstasy,
In a flash of gold heels on the pavement.
Now see I
That warmth's the very stuff of poesy.
I hope this makes up for the long wait!
A warm, chocolate coated Review would be nice.
