Disclaimer:
Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight
Morgan Locklear owns a sizable collection of vintage Hawaiian shirts and "Weird Al" Yankovic memorabilia.
Chapter Ten:
Shellshocked
While Jacob, Rosalie and Esme were having a productive day in Paris, Carlisle, Jasper and Alice were having anything but in Lily, Kentucky.
Carlisle entered the only bank in town at ten o'clock sharp on Wednesday, July 5th, 1892. It was the bank named on the deed he held in his hands and it was a very big, very dark but very new building. Inside were several handsomely appointed desks and a large, round and open vault door.
"May I help you?" The gentleman behind the first desk had a big and exquisitely manicured mustache that curled up into neat little spirals of waxed hair.
"Good morning," Carlisle began. "I am Doctor...Carlos Craven, and I was hoping to speak to someone who is familiar with the bank's land holdings."
"Oh...ah well, that would be Miss Argyle but she is not available at the moment." His mustache twitched.
"That's fine, Nicholas." A deep but feminine voice carried around the vault door a moment before a woman stepped out. She was shapely and mature and her hair was the shade of strawberry blonde that reminded Carlisle of wheat stalks at twilight.
"I would be happy to assist Doctor Craven." She walked forward on polished black shoes that hammered the equally polished salmon marble floor and sent echoes slapping against the distant brick walls.
She shook his hand with alarming strength and Carlisle suddenly had a very bad feeling about her.
"Are you new to these parts?" she asked without a hint of a southern accent.
"I'm from...Canada."
"Well, if you'll just have a seat, I'd be happy to assist you."
She led Carlisle to a large dark and ornate desk that sat near the massive vault door. "Now, you were interested in discussing land holdings?"
"Yes," Carlisle answered. "I was hoping you could validate a deed to a small homestead east of town?" He took out the Kentucky paperwork and put it in front of her. "I won it in a poker game in San Francisco and wanted to be sure that it was a clean property with no liens on it."
The easily believable story had been invented on the road somewhere outside of Baltimore and scrutinized that same morning, before Jasper and Alice sequestered themselves in the basement for the day.
She examined the document. "Have you seen the place yet?"
"Yes, I took the liberty when I arrived in town last evening."
"Well, this is one of ours but I don't see where it has been signed over to you Dr. Craven."
"Oh yes," Carlisle had been prepared for this question. "I had them sign it over to my daughter. It was intended as a gift for her wedding but I wanted to inspect it first. I'm sure you can understand."
"I don't understand. Who is your daughter?"
Carlisle pointed to the single word at the bottom of the page. "That's her right there."
"Senna?" The woman read the word out loud.
"Yes, the deed is in her name. I hope that won't be a problem, I was only trying to make things easier after all."
The woman stood up. "Excuse me please." She walked into the vault and Carlisle could hear her diminishing footsteps. It was as if the vault were as big as the room it bordered.
Carlisle sat in near silence, next to him was a ticking gold leafed desk clock that pulsed a little slower than his rapidly increasing heartbeat. He knew something was wrong and looked around for the man with the wall sconce mustache, but he had disappeared.
Carlisle looked around the tomb-like chamber. It had nice white trim on the ceiling and a chandelier that could have been in an English palace. He heard footsteps approaching from somewhere inside the vault.
More than one set of footprints.
Her strawberry blonde hair was pouring over one of her shoulders as she stepped through the circular opening. Behind her was a stern browed man in a vest and rolled up sleeves. There was a bright red spot of blood on the very tip of his shirt collar.
He openly stared at Carlisle in disbelief before he silently walked to the front doors and locked them.
He approached and sat down in the chair next to Carlisle. Miss Argyle remained standing. He folded his hands in his lap and leaned back.
"Where are the rest of them?" he asked.
Carlisle's mouth went dry. "The rest of the deeds?" he managed to say.
The woman approached him from behind and was close enough that when she spoke, her cool breath produced goosebumps on the back of Carlisle's neck.
"The rest of the vampires." She spoke in a silky 'you know what I'm talking about' voice that instantly turned Carlisle's stomach into a pit.
"Take him into the vault," the man instructed her. "And take a few boys over to the house as soon as you can to look for them. This man did not get that deed by himself."
"I'll take John and John."
"And Senna?"
"Yes."
"Kill everyone you find."
Michael had arrived in New Amsterdam when the city was still just a rumor in the world and had quickly invested heavily in its development. He had assembled a private army that was used to safeguard the home he built on the east shore of the island somewhere near where 15th Street would later be. It was also used to police the dozens of investments he had made by the time Peter Stuyvesant was appointed Governor in the mid-1640s.
Michael considered befriending the powerful man, turning him perhaps, but knew that the world turned a lot faster during the day and did not wish to rob the infant city of its first leader.
He admired Stuyvesant from afar and kept his interests close to home despite his men's encouragement to hire a ship to go privateering. He valued their input, especially the smaller group of older gentlemen that he created shortly after the young, strong militia, but he did not like to gamble.
Riley was skilled with rope, which is how he saw the knots inside Michael's book. He rolled them around under his fingers like a seamstress, imagining them as black horse tail rope, almost silken to the touch. The knots could not be picked up but, under Michael's supervision, Riley pushed them around the page like billiard balls.
They rolled well because they were just like monkey fists, which were tied at the end of a ship's heaving line. Riley, much too small to throw the weight of the rope, was relegated to tying the spherical and artistic knots that were wrapped around a heavy object, like a lead ball.
They were also effective at the end of a bosun's baton but Riley had never found himself on the receiving end of one. He did not necessarily lead a charmed life aboard British Navy ships but he understood the work. It was certainly preferable to rotting away in a jail cell somewhere so he felt blessed every day. He performed his duty with rigorous efficiency, earning him merit and promotion.
His favorite years were his earliest in the service. He was taught simple repetitive chores that kept him below decks and warmer in the harsh winter months. Knots were a sailor's third and fourth hands. Any man worth his salt could tie a sheep shank with his eyes closed.
Riley immediately recognized the monkey fists and knew that each had a letter within. More importantly, he knew how to break the tension without pulling at the fingers of the knot like Michael had been doing.
It still took enormous amounts of time but Riley was rewarded for his recitation of completed passages every few years. He was allowed his freedom for all of the night and worked as Michael's right hand in all other matters. When the sun rose, however, he was required to spend six hours working the knots before he was allowed to sleep.
On average, it took Riley a month to conquer a single monkey fist and each page held anywhere from thirty to forty knots. The pace was a vast improvement over Michael's efforts in Shanghai.
Michael and his men fed on the tribal natives to the north and west. His mature elite would rationalize this as less loathsome but, if overcome with desire, they would still snatch unfortunate souls off the street with indifference.
Michael learned that he was the only one among them who felt pity for the humans. He prayed for every person he killed yet all of his New York children fed indiscriminately and without remorse.
When Michael had assigned his scholarly vampires to research all avenues of wildlife blood he told them to pretend as if they were Noah on the Ark, except that they only needed to find one of each animal.
They reported to Michael just a few years before Stuyvesant was ousted and proclaimed that human blood was the only viable food source. The project leader, Lawrence, was allowed to pursue his scientific work after that. Michael, however, would pick one or two special side research projects a year.
Riley's first completed page was read in the spring of 1653. New Amsterdam had been given its own charter and Michael had been given a third chance to continue uncovering the story of a race of people who lived exclusively in sunlight but split into two distinct groups after some of them were exposed to only moonlight by way of punishment.
The divided people went to war after an insurrection which showed the Moon skinned peoples' new strengths but also their devastating weakness.
The
fighting
continued
for hundreds
of years
Riley was given deep praise for his work from Michael, which he accepted graciously. He was, however, already possessive of the book that only he could read. Riley started in on the next page immediately upon completing the last. He slowly massaged the knots until they released their prize and he told Michael nothing of his suspicion that he smelled the sea.
With
thousands
of deaths
and millions
of tears
Riley read this page just over three years after the first. The population of New Amsterdam had almost doubled in that time and Boston, Michael's only African cohort, informed him that there were no less than sixty languages spoken on Manhattan Island. Michael did not go out often. Instead, he devoted his energy to honing his skills in trance and transparency.
But it had
never
occurred
to either
side
Riley could actually hear the ocean as he worked the knots. He loosened the ropes and spilled out a hard round seed with the letter etched into it. He told Michael what he saw and when he did, Michael shared that he always got a piece of bone from the monkey fist. Sometimes it was a bird's eye.
That there
might be
someone
to act as
their guide
By the time Riley had gotten to this page, New Amsterdam had a new name and the duo had a new perspective on the book. Both men were very eager to complete the next few verses as quickly as possible because it seemed that the book was on the verge of revealing its deepest secrets.
That
someone
was out there
with skin
of Earth
Michael began insisting that Riley put more time into the book and the challenge was gladly accepted. He worked from dusk to midnight and then he went out to play and feed with the other vampires. He came home at sunrise and worked the knots until noon, his bedtime. The work was actually gratifying and soothing to Riley. Michael kept him quite comfortable.
Who could
help them
restore
the flesh of
their birth
In 1676, the Broad Street canal was filled in and paved, thereby making Broad Street even broader. Michael and Riley often discussed the fantastical possibilities the book was opening them up to. The lost momentum that occurred by having to wait between verses was jarring and frustrated Riley, but Michael had long ago gotten used to it.
For there
was such
a man
that no one
had met
Riley's creative methods and diligence earned the two men another page in less than two years. And it would change everything.
Or talked to
or tasted
his
influence
yet
"Or tasted his influence yet." Michael was standing over Riley as he read the newest words. Riley had actually called him in when he uncovered the second to last letter, having deduced the likely last word of the line. Michael concurred.
"That can't be coincidence," Riley concluded, looking up. "What do you think it means?"
"I think..." Michael's eyes pulled the corners of his mouth up as if they were on puppet strings.
"Tell me." Riley was as hungry for the answer.
Michael loomed over Riley with a grin that continued to grow grotesquely large. His eyes were as white-blue as the horizon over the ocean and fixed on their subject.
"Let me drink your blood." The words were an order and it was followed without objection.
Auditions for The Tempest were well attended. Emmett secured a huge spread in the Currier that read:
SHAKESPEARE TO START
AT THEATRE OF THE HEART
In the Inquirer, the Page Three headline was taken directly from Emmett's submission:
THE TEMPEST
TAKES NEW YORK
The Times was a bit more creative but the article was buried behind political editorials and stage reviews:
PARIS PRINCESS TO PRODUCE
PROMISCUOUS PERFORMANCE
The New York Post did not publish anything about the auditions but the editor promised to print an interview with the director and run ticket information two weeks before the opening night. The trio of vampires decided they could get the play up and running in eleven weeks time, setting an opening date of Friday, September 30th with a V.I.P. preview, Emmett's idea, the night before.
The articles instructed interested actors and actresses to report to the newly built theatre on the corner of 34th and 8th Avenue, July 5th and/or 6th at noon. It offered twenty-five cents a performance for principals and extras and boasted an international director by the name of Edward Cullen.
The lobby doors were located so far back in the tall entry arch that they could all be opened even on the sunniest of days. There was never any danger of the harmful light warming the air above the stone steps leading up to the theatre.
Emmett greeted them all, forty-seven men and fifteen women, in the lobby. He gave them very simple forms to fill out, asking them to list previous experience and parts they were interested in. He gave them all numbers, instructing them to please sit in the back of the auditorium and wait to be called up.
Edward had a wonderful afternoon watching the actors perform. He found great prospects for Ariel and the several of the ship's crew within the first hour. He also found possibilities for the jester, Trinculo, and his friend, Stephano, but still needed a decent Prospero. He also had to find a convincing actor to play his beast, Caliban.
He and Bella sat in the middle of the gorgeous auditorium and before long, Emmett was able to join them, having completed his registration. They discussed that evening's itinerary as the actors shuffled on and off stage.
"Are you two really going over there?" Emmett asked in a whisper.
"I agreed to hear him out and that's all," Bella answered.
"I'm going with her," Edward stated from behind one of his sister's spring boards. Garrett, Rosalie's glass installation partner, had shown up early that day to audition for the part of Ferdinand, the King's son and love interest. He had introduced himself to Bella and Edward and presented several of the clever devices which clamped paper to a thin piece of wood as gifts.
He was a handsome man and read well for the part, but was a bit too old. Edward liked him for Prospero's villainous brother, Antonio.
"I'll go too," Emmett told them.
"I'd welcome that." Edward nodded. "I think we should stick together."
Emmett's God voice had been very active since the fireworks. It kept Bella and Edward up during the day. He was arguing with himself about the fact that he missed killing humans.
Bella explained to Edward, who had lived a relatively sheltered vampire life, that there was a hunting aspect that was instinctual and primal and could be hard to forget.
That was the same argument that Emmett was making but God was vengeful and tortured Emmett for his errant thoughts.
No one would know about his internal struggle from the way Emmett interacted with the actors and coordinated the group readings. Surprisingly, he worked very well with humans. He orchestrated the chaos like he could conduct water and the wind.
"Good," he said before getting up to gather all the women to read for the one and only female part, Miranda. Edward wanted someone breathtaking, someone every man in the audience would fall in love with.
Bella turned him down when he offered the part to her but they found an enrapturing twenty-year old woman with milk chocolate hair that had been brushed with caramel. She was beautiful, but more than that, she was sensual. A born flirt, she had Emmett's attention from the moment she spoke in her succulent voice.
"I would not wish any companion in the world but you;" She walked down the thrust of the stage where the two diagonal ramps that spanned the orchestra pit came together.
"Nor can imagination form a shape, beside yourself, to like of."
The rest of her audition had not been necessary, but it was brilliant all the same.
Next up was Lawrence, recently rescued from a horrific death at the hands of the morning sun as it brushed across the wide open space of the Bowling Green at the tip of the island. Bella had arrived there before dawn and instructed the man to shake off the mental shackles that Michael had cast on him.
He was grateful to the point of tears and accepted her offer to stay at the theatre. Since he was a gifted orator, Lawrence took the stage with the rest of the actors when he saw the audition posting. His reading for Alonso, the King of Naples, was winning and he also shared some very interesting information with Bella that earned her trust.
He stayed behind while the trio took a cab up to Michael's house at the top of Central Park. Edward announced that he had many of the principal parts already filled.
The northbound cab crossed 59th Street and the driver asked the party if they would like to take the east drive through the park instead of the main road. They agreed and were treated to an immersion into wilderness where trees drooped over their heads and smooth sheets of dark purple water from various lakes and ponds reflected their branches.
They were all pleased with the choice and Edward wondered why anyone would choose the former route to spirit that far uptown. As they were passing the Central Park Zoo, newly rebuilt after a fire, Edward began discussing the play.
"We need to find our Prospero tomorrow."
"We'll have another big turnout," Emmett said with certainty. "Did you hear their reaction to the auditorium? We might even have more people show up."
"What other parts do you still need to fill?" Bella asked while she was looking around for the Aldebaran star.
"The three big ones are Prospero, Sebastian and Caliban, the beast."
"Oh yes, Caliban." Bella nodded her head into a north wind that was warm and pleasant. "It's going to take a brave actor to play him."
"They are all tricky roles," Edward commented.
"Even Sebastian?" Bella thought that he was a fairly benign character.
"Oh yes." Edward's eyes gleamed instantly. "Sebastian is wise but impressionable. He has some of the best lines in the play and is usually quite popular with the ladies in the audience." He turned his thoughts inward, determined to find a complicated man to play the complicated role.
"What's the plan once we get there?" Emmett shifted their focus toward the impending visit.
"We're not leaving her alone with him," Edward answered firmly.
"Agreed."
"It's not Michael I'm worried about," Bella admitted. "It's Riley."
"I am going to pay extra close attention to Riley," Edward reassured her. The double meaning was not lost on Bella, he was going to listen for Riley's thoughts.
The park was an impressive presence, Edward could hear how few people were around and decided to come to the park to finish writing his new song for Bella. He would gladly sacrifice the use of a piano for the tranquil favors of the green oasis.
They pulled up in front of Michael's estate to find a group of vampires playing cricket in the side yard. There were large Edison street lamps bringing out the vibrant green that was usually reserved for midday.
Michael was there as well, complaining loudly that baseball was a superior game.
Edward thought it odd to see Michael not get his way and in such a casual occurrence. Edward knew that the information was noteworthy, valuable even, but did not yet know how.
"Hello guests." Riley approached them with his hand extended. He had made good on his word by sending men over to the theatre earlier that morning to measure for the new marble floor.
They had exchanged telephone numbers the night before and Riley had been almost sickeningly sweet, scheduling the measurements to take place before the auditions. He did not want to disturb the theatre's business.
"Hello Riley." Bella shook his hand, which was cold and clammy. It was like touching a fish and coming from another vampire, that was saying a lot.
"My guys are going to cut everything first, then come in next week and replace the floor in one day."
"You have our number," Edward spoke with a pleasant hand shake. "Just let us know when they're ready." Riley was sincere and that made Edward suspicious.
Riley nodded, shook Emmett's hand and fell back as Michael approached. "Hello everyone." Bella immediately noticed that Michael was dressed in priestly robes. They were very fine and nothing like the tattered garments she remembered from centuries before. He seemed in good spirits but had a mischievous grin lurking on his lips.
"Why don't we take this inside?"
Riley had perfected the art of loosening the monkey fist knot and feeling for the letter etched on the large seed within. They were no bigger than blueberries but Riley would swear that when he was working them that they were the size of coconuts.
They had been surprised to find that it took until well after the American Revolution to get any more useful information from the book concerning the savior it had eluded to.
The day Michael drank Riley's blood was the day he realized what the dark cool substance Wūpó had fed him really was.
Most of
the
fighting
happened
at dawn
Michael and Riley had been drinking a small amount of blood from each other every evening for over a year. They experienced heightened abilities but their thirst was not quenched. They shared their findings with the group hoping to put more minds on the discovery.
Or just
after
sunset
from
then on
It was 1679 and the Habeas Corpus Act was passed by British Parliament. Upon request, a jailer was required to produce the body of any prisoner and show cause for his imprisonment. Michael knew that the human rights act was passed in part because he and his colleagues often chose to feed from prisoners rather than go out hunting the clever and quiet natives that had already caught and killed one of Michael's own men.
They
seemed
to split
night
and day
The group donated their own blood to a community pitcher anytime they drank from it and they could feel a profound difference in their bodies. They also maintained a very strict code not to kill on the island anymore. Instead, they hunted in New Jersey.
But the
pink sky
always
got in
the way
Riley had discovered that the seeds he was pulling from the monkey fist knots were known as Jack In The Pulpit seeds and were found only in America. Michael appreciated the irony in the religious name but was really tickled when Riley told him they were also known as Cobra Lily or Devil's Ear seeds.
No one
noticed
the
red
eclipse
Maybe he was making up for lost time at sea, but Riley had become quite the green thumb. He had been growing the most beautiful grapes in their garden since the first of many Yellow Fever epidemics that spread through New York during the 1700's. The group used the grapes to make wine and they used the fever to cover their sinister habits.
Even
when
it foresaw
an
apocalypse
Michael had long ago put Riley back on a three to five year cycle with the pages. He did not want to burn out his most helpful assistant and knew that it could take decades more to get something out of that book beyond a description of a war that probably did not last as long as it had taken Michael to read about.
The sun
was blocked
for more
than
an hour
Michael had grown so good with the power of suggestion that he began to receive regular human visitors, intent on offering their life's blood for his liking. He also began asking Riley to describe what the sensation felt like when he was resisting a command. Riley, meanwhile, became concerned that Michael might begin to tie up loose ends concerning the book.
Followed
by
a huge
thunder
shower
Riley began growing Jack in the Pulpit flowers in summer of 1712. The Carolina Colony being split in two made headlines in New York but the much bigger news was that the Pennsylvania assembly banned the import of slaves into their colony. Michael had grown to think of humans as pets and he wanted his pets to all get along, so he was with the Pennsylvanians in principal.
The
heavens
themselves
wanted
to speak
Several years later, New Orleans was founded by the French. Several of Michael's vampires wanted to see the thriving city but he had several reasons not to let them go. Michael was not entirely sure that his coaxed loyalty was holding its effectiveness, so he met with each one of his men every two weeks. It worked out to four interviews and readjustments a day.
But the
people
were busy
perfecting
technique
Riley imagined that the monkey fists were getting bigger and bigger as the years and the pages passed. It seemed as if he had a child's hands when he was loosening the interlaced ropes to remove a seed the size of a harbor buoy. He was transported to another world and gladly took his time with the project as long as Michael was nonchalant about it. Riley knew that eternity would allow him only distant memories of his current wonderful moments.
The world
even
shook
to sound
it's distress
Four soldiers and two scholars escaped from Michael in early March of 1724. Michael howled like a wolf and tore down his stone house with his bare hands in anger. He disappeared for a month and came back with a barrel of blood and a limp. He clamped down hard after that and killed three more of his children after extensive interviews.
But
neither
side
would
acquiesce
In 1729, Isaac Newton's Principia was finally translated from Latin into English. Michael would have stopped bothering to teach the dead language after that but he was nostalgic about its elegance. It did not matter anyway because, by then, all of his scholarly vampires could read it.
Volcano
ash
filled
the
air
The 1730's turned out to be a great time for publications. The world was rich with skilled and emotive authors but it was the Poor Richard's Almanack, with its weather predictions and numerous proverbs, that truly captivated Michael. Benjamin Franklin was even invited to a party Michael threw at his newly built home on Fifth Avenue. Mr. Franklin, however, sent his regrets as he was attending another party in the newly founded 13th colony of Georgia.
Then
neither
the sun
nor the moon
was there
Riley sensed that something was changing in the book. The smell and the sound of the ocean was by then a constant companion during his time with it. Michael smelled it as well. Riley was allowed to work in private but voluntarily brought the book back so Michael would never feel compelled to issue a command.
Both sides
were
frightened
and once
again lost
France and Spain allied against England in 1740 and King George's War was going to rage for eight years. Fifty black slaves in South Carolina were hanged after it was discovered that they were planning a revolt. Michael had decided not to turn any more Africans into vampires after Boston suggested the new rule. He even went a step further, forbidding his men from feeding on any of the already downtrodden people.
Then came
the Winter
with a
forever
frost
New York was home to many wealthy people and the each house along Fifth Avenue was more impressive than the last. Some of the neighbors annoyed Michael, so he killed them, bought their houses and created a system of doors and passageways that allowed his men to move from one to the other in the middle of the day.
The planet
got covered
with
snow
and ice
In 1750, the Iron Act was passed by the English Parliament and limited the growth of the iron industry in the American colonies. Furious New Yorkers took to the streets in protest. In 1751, when the Currency Act banned the issuing of paper money by the Colonies, people began using the word revolution more liberally.
And the
oceans
froze over
not once
but twice
Michael read quite a bit and first heard mention of George Washington when he sided with the American Indian and defeated French troops in the Ohio valley. He and his men stayed out of human affairs mostly, but turmoil filled the skies like smoke and they were all getting frustrated with how all the warring interfered with business. It was Riley who first suggested that they consider getting into the business of war.
For
centuries
the
planet
was white
Weapons, ballistics, uniforms, food rations, gun powder and even cooking and eating utensils - Michael had his hands into everything including specialty supplies like officers saddles and other necessities, like coffins. The fall of Quebec gave the English control of Canada and it was a much needed victory after devastating losses to the French. Michael was there to capitalize on that as well.
And day
was
even
colder
than night
Riley had conducted most of the big money deals with humans, who only needed a little to start and kept coming back with profit. There was very little work beyond finding the right person to invest in. Humans were so keenly aware of their finite existence that many exhibited a drive and determination that could be rewarded as well as envied.
With a
thick ice
blanket
on land
and sea
The Stamp Act Congress convened in New York City in 1765 with the purpose of sending a petition to King George III, requesting a repeal of an act that taxed every single document printed in the Colonies, including personal contracts and even playing cards. Michael read a copy of the resolution and its taxation without representation argument was sound enough to warrant debate. Everyone was still surprised when the King actually repealed the decree but war was already brewing like tea, which was also taxed.
Both
parties
were
weakened
considerably
Michael had been feeding supplies to both sides so he stayed out of the politics. As long as the civil unrest did not cause his nice homes to be burned down, Michael was content to observe. In 1770, he allowed all of his men a vote on the matter, and at the last minute changed his own vote to join the fight. He thought of the effort to defend Shanghai and could not turn his back on New York; however, the majority believed that abstaining was the wisest course of action.
Too hungry
to fight
too tired
to
shout
They voted again after General Washington was forced to retreat right past their houses and the city was taken by the British. Riley gave an impassioned speech about protecting their secrets. They had all lived at least a century by then and were becoming careless. Michael was so awakened by the logic that he gave his own speech insisting that they give the Colonists a few years to take their empire city back. The vote was unanimous.
Everyone
slept
as they
waited
it out
It was a case of life imitating art.
Alice did not tarry long between sleep and waking, so when the porch creaked she opened her eyes and was instantly aware that Jasper was not beside her.
Jasper, combat trained, was already standing underneath the wooden basement stairs with a finger to his dimpled smile. Alice could see his mischievous eyes gleam between the steps as he motioned for her to lie back down.
A decoy.
There were three of them and they crept straight for the basement door. Jasper was not certain they were vampires but he was going to find out. He drew his twin sickles silently and hoped that two of them would come down at once.
Alice played her part beautifully. She even improvised and began taking long, shallow, human breaths. She assumed that they would think that any vampire would have woken up by then and banked on the fact that the unexpected sight of a human would only serve to lull them.
One of them came down slowly. Jasper was disappointed but knew his moment when the intruder relaxed his body, having seen the helpless girl and savoring the moment before striking.
Jasper lashed out with the almost circular blades and they each cleaved through the legs of the paused predator just above the ankles.
He screamed loud enough to give everyone a start and, when he fell forward, Alice was already on her feet and piercing the back of his skull with her rapier. Even as his feet drummed on the basement floor, Alice was up the stairs and driving the punching dagger, her soon to be favorite weapon, up through the mouth of the gaping man at the top of the stairs. The tip poked out of his scalp like a Jack-in-the-box coated in dark crimson. She twisted it sharply to the left and the right and yanked it out sidestepping the gush of gore that erupted through his mouth.
Jasper came around from underneath the stairs in time to see a red headed woman prepare to swing a custom black metal blade at the otherwise engaged Alice. The stairs were slick with blood and the woman's blade was already suspended in mid-air.
He was not going to get there in time.
"Stop!" He knew the tactic worked when both women stopped.
Then they looked at each other.
Alice reacted first and kicked out with the cute new boots she found in Snowville, Virginia. They made her feel like a cowgirl and the four inch square heels delivered a satisfying blow to her fair headed foe.
The vampire stayed on her feet but dropped her sword and ran. Alice caught a handful of hair before she got two steps and threw her to the ground. Jasper was up the stairs by then and knelt on her chest before her hands could settle on the dusty floor.
The tip of her own sword was motionless, one inch above her forehead, held in Jasper's granite grip.
Senna looked up at him and her eyes filled with tears. "But...this is my house."
Ordinarily, this reaction would not sway Jasper but since they needed to leave someone alive anyway, he allowed himself a moment of pity for her. The fact that she had voluntarily disarmed herself was not lost on him but there were more important things on his mind.
"Where is he?" Jasper asked his question calmly but expectantly.
Senna pursed her lips, she could tell that the lean man was not putting his full weight on her body but she was already in agony. She could not get any air to speak a single word, however, so she frantically nodded her head.
Yes…yes…yes.
asper reached down and grabbed her wrist in such a way that it folded her hand backwards and a produced a cornucopia of pain as he pulled her to her feet. Her sword was withdrawn and handed to Alice, who inspected it closely. It was a Granada style sword, Spanish and beautiful.
"If you take us to our friend right now I will let you live," Jasper told her. "Decide."
"If I do then will you give me the other deeds and tell me what happened to my...friends in Europe?" Her voice was shaking but she had maintained the nerve to pose the question.
"You can have those things right now," Jasper stated coolly. "But the deal on the table is the human's life for yours." Jasper applied more pressure to her askew hand and she squealed in protest.
"I agree!"
Jasper could see through the thin window curtains that the surprise visitors had arrived with their human captive's horses and carriage. "Let's go for a ride."
Without another word, Jasper hooked her under the arms and carried her out to the solid coach. He threw her inside and warned her of the consequences if either door opened for any reason unless by him. He was graphic in his description, frightfully so, and Senna looked as fragile as a human when he slammed the door.
"Why did you say that this was your house?" Alice asked through the gray glass.
"It is my house. I'm Senna."
Jasper and Alice looked at each other. They had not considered that possibility.
"Where is the doctor?"
"At the bank."
Jasper jumped up to the whip's bench and Alice joined him. She kept a close eye on their passive cargo but was ready to run her down if she defied Jasper's orders. There was little chance of that but her confidence was rattled by the close call at the top of the stairs.
They pulled up in front the dark brick building while scarlet still whispered in the low clouds above them. Jasper and Alice stepped into the carriage with Senna. He held all eight deeds in his hands.
"We are not thieves," Jasper began, "but we acquired these after we put down a half dozen disgusting creatures who tortured humans before they fed."
"Where were they?" There was something anxious in Senna's voice.
Jasper looked at Alice, who answered for them. "Let's just say that it was a boat ride away."
"They did not have the right to take those documents. You were in my childhood home. The others are...businesses."
Jasper considered asking her to clarify but let the mystery go. He could tell that Alice believed her and, frankly, he was glad to be rid of the burden. He handed the papers to her and asked her a question that was laced with menace.
"You would have killed us outright, is that right?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Orders."
"From whom?"
"My husband."
Jasper was surprised that she voluntarily increased her value as a hostage. He assumed that she was unaware of the tactical blunder but began to wonder if she was merely insuring her physical well-being by exposing the personal connection to the leader of her particular vampire faction.
"How are you going to get our man to us?"
"I'll go in and get him," she answered.
Alice and Jasper laughed together. "Try again," he told her.
"You can't go where I'm going."
Jasper smiled and effortlessly slid the sickle under her chin. "You've got that right."
"Wait!"
"Last chance," Jasper warned. "We really don't need you."
It was now Senna's turn to smile. Alice did not like the look of it while Jasper got downright nervous.
"Let's go inside," she said and reached for the door.
Jasper put his hand on top of hers. "This is where some people would remind you that if you are leading us into a trap, we will both make sure that you are the first one to die. I would rather remind you that we returned your property and, by your own admission, were only defending ourselves. We are only interested in retrieving our friend, unharmed, and leaving in peace."
"We would not hurt a doctor," Senna's tone was shocked. "Not even a human doctor."
Jasper removed his hand but gestured for Alice to exit from her door. Senna followed and Jasper closed the door behind him.
The bank door was locked but Senna produced a silver key that opened it with a half turn.
Jasper and Alice kept the woman between them as the large main room greeted them with a silent salutation and a strange scent. "It's mustache wax," Senna explained.
"Why does it smell like mustache wax?" Alice asked.
She was answered by the click of a shotgun.
Senna spoke venomously towards the man with the curled mustache, who had risen from behind the counter with a double barrel frown. "Put it down you fool! Can't you see it's me?"
Admirably, he did not flinch at the vampire's words, nor did he lower the weapon. "Are you forgetting the protocol Miss Argyle?"
"This is a special circumstance, Nicholas. Now you have done well but, please, we are in a terrible rush." Senna began walking towards the massive vault but Nicholas raised the weapon at Jasper.
"Mister. I don't know who you are but you are not allowed in there."
"Alright." Jasper pulled his sickle and hooked Senna by the neck. Only the outside edge of the blade was sharpened so she was in no actual danger, but he had complete control of her movements. "But she's not leaving my side until I see my friend."
"Go get him," Senna commanded the human. "And have him bring the doctor."
"As you wish." Nicholas ran to the vault door and, with one last glance that made Alice moan with dread, pulled the heavy door closed behind him.
Senna began laughing.
"Do what you want to me," she said defiantly. "But your friend is as good as dead."
NOTES:
To all my readers and friends in Japan, I wish you staggering support for the recovery of your brilliant nation. From my family to yours, I offer our thoughts and prayers for everyone affected by the earthquake and subsequent tsunami. I have been made aware of a fandom-wide response to this crisis and hope you will join me in participating in their efforts as a contributor or a donor, or both.
My hard working wife and beta, Jennifer, has chosen a more characteristic identity on Twitter and FanFiction. She is now RandomCran and I get all my good ideas from her.
I will be participating as an author for the upcoming Fandom for Sexual Assault Awareness fundraiser. For more information on this event, please visit fandom4saa(dot)wordpress(dot)com /
If you would like to read the poem in Michael's red book uninterrupted, I have published the poem as it's own story, "Michael's Book". I have included today's verses there and, as more are revealed, I will update the document. It is an interesting piece without the trappings of Brutte Parole but, in the end, its commentary is paramount.
See you next week for Chapter Eleven: For Whom The Bell Tolls
MOG