"What are you going to do now, Elizabeth?" George asks.
"I have plans," Elizabeth answers.
Since Hannah's latest refusal to sit by her vampire grandmother's side, Elizabeth has taken to sulking in her lounge, sitting with one elbow resting on her knee and the other swirling a glass of fresh blood in her hands and watching the liquid leaving a thin layer around the sides as it moves around. Though it's true, she has a well thought out plan, her pride has been damaged; there's not a vampire in the world below her status that wouldn't want to be accepted as part of her family and this one girl has defied that statement.
"Do we get to know what those plans are?" George questions.
"Of course you do, darling," Elizabeth smiles, turning to look at him, "Bring me two of my human security and I'll show you."
George disappears, leaving only Elizabeth and Sarah in the room. Neither of them speaks; with Elizabeth there is no making small talk. If there isn't an important matter to discuss then she isn't interested. Luckily, this doesn't bother either of her grandchildren because they have been brought up around this attitude. When George returns, two men from night security follow him.
"Ah, boys," Elizabeth exclaims, standing up and walking towards them, "I have a task for the two of you."
"We are at your service," one of the men replies.
Staring hard into their eyes simultaneously, Elizabeth holds both of the men's minds in her control. No young vampire would be able to achieve this level of practice but Elizabeth is no young vampire and has plenty of experience glamouring more than one person at once. She speaks clearly to them both.
"Listen to me carefully; both of you," Elizabeth says, "Are you listening?"
"Yes, Elizabeth," both the men say together.
"There's a man whose name is Gaspard Auclair. I want him. What you need to do for me is go to his house and capture him. I'll give you all the information and tools you need and all you have to do is bring him here and put him in the basement where I keep my live food. You can both have the night off and use your day hours to complete this task; he won't be expecting you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Elizabeth," they repeat.
"Fantastic! Now, go back to your posts and I expect to find a werewolf in my basement tomorrow night, got that?"
"Yes Elizabeth."
The two men leave the room and go back to their usual routine of patrolling the property.
"Are you actually having a laugh?" Sarah cries, "Kidnap Gaspard Auclair? That's a bit of a death wish, don't you think?"
"Calm down, my sweet," Elizabeth says, "If I say I have a plan then I plan is what I have. Now, go to ground, both of you. I have some instructions to give before it gets light."
XXXXXXXXXX
Gaspard is disturbed from his thoughts when Samantha drops her bag in the kitchen island in front of him.
"I'm working today," she says, "Ian has put me on days because I'm 'less likely to cause trouble' apparently."
"Well, that seems like a smart move on his part," Gaspard replies, earning himself a glare.
"Regardless, I still have hours to make up for and it gives me something to do with my day. What about you, any clients today?"
"Yeah, I have a photo shoot going on in this graffiti-covered industrial estate later because I obviously know exactly how to make wannabe models look good in baggy 'gangster style' clothing. I have no idea how any of this stuff sells."
"It's your wonderful photography skills," Samantha smiles, leaning over to put her lunch in her bag and placing a kiss on Gaspard's cheek, "Right, I'm off. I'll be home about four or five."
"I'll be back before that," Gaspard says, turning his head so he can kiss his girlfriend.
"Ok," Samantha grins, "Have a good day."
Gaspard hears the front door shut and looks up at the clock. It's only quarter past eight. HHHe doesn't need to leave for work until ten o'clock so he pulls his laptop over from the other side of the island and flips it open. While clicking though his documents, Gaspard finds an old folder of unedited photographs. He smiles as he looks through the images, seeing shot after shot of different animals; a dog, a cat, a rabbit, a mouse and a moth, all of which are Rosie. Joined with these are numerous pictures of wolves; his pack. One wolf is the main focus of most of these photographs. She has black fur covering her head, back, tail and sides with light brown on her belly, the underside of her tail and her legs. Blonde fur around her mouth leads down her neck to join with the brown and a darker brown surrounds her eyes and merges with a black stripe running down her muzzle. Gaspard has always found Samantha's wolf form exceptionally beautiful, especially compared to his own pitch black coat. The last picture is one of both Samantha and him in their wolf forms, taken by Rosie whilst they were playing in the grass.
"I look so much younger as a wolf," Gaspard sighs.
He hears the curtains around the open back doors blow around in the gentle breeze. Unable to bring himself to do any real work, he browses through his other folders, blissfully unaware of his surroundings until it's too late. Suddenly, Gaspard is grabbed from behind; a strong arm locks around his neck and pulls him backwards off of the kitchen stool. Gaspard swings his leg around and hooks it behind his captor's ankle, knocking the man down as he kicks forward. He jumps out of the man's reach but, as he turns away from him, a second man appears. Gaspard has no time to react before the second man lands a punch, causing a split in Gaspard's lip. He figures out that these men are definitely human; they aren't hitting hard enough to be anything else. He recovers quickly and grasps the collar of the second man's long sleeved top and slams him against the wall. His eyes are glowing fiercely.
"What are you doing in my house?" Gaspard shouts.
Staring intensely into the man's eyes, looking for the fear that he is trying to stir within his attacker, but Gaspard only receives a glazed over gaze. These men have been glamoured and it's all too obvious who has sent them. He's momentarily thrown, giving the first man an opportunity to pick up a small frying pan and swing it at Gaspard's head. It hits its mark, causing a loud clanging sound. Gaspard releases the other man and backs away, staggering slightly and holding the side of his head where the pan had made contact. He groans in pain and tries to steady his vision, holding onto the edge of the kitchen island.
"Give me the solution," the first man says to the second.
Gaspard isn't able to get his bearings before the first man takes a clump of his hair in his fist and puts a wet cloth over his nose and mouth. At first, Gaspard assumes that it's only chloroform; not that big of a deal. Werewolves would need to spend several minutes with their nose in a bottle before it affected them. But chloroform doesn't have a strong, sickly, floral scent. Gaspard realises that it's wolf's bane in a liquid form and has a moment of panic, knowing he has to remove the cloth before he passes out. Putting both of his hands behind his head, he takes a hold of the man's arm and uses all his might to fling him over his back and send him crashing onto the tiled floor. Gaspard doubles over coughing and wheezing as he tries to bring fresh air into his lungs. But he is given barely two seconds to breathe before the second man tackles him. Though dizzied, Gaspard still has enough coordination to take a handful of the man's shirt and throw him over the island. His laptop and coffee mug are taken along; crashing onto the floor. Gaspard holds onto the edge of the counter, panting, still trying to catch his breath.
"Shit," he whispers to himself, "I can't keep this up."
Concentrating too much on being able to see straight, Gaspard fails to pay attention to the man he had flung over his back making his way towards him, cloth in hand. He suddenly finds himself in another headlock, the man's arm hooking around his neck from behind. Once again he attempts to cover Gaspard's face. The werewolf struggles but, slowly, the wolf's bane starts to overpower him and his movements become more and more sluggish until he eventually loses consciousness.
"Elizabeth never mentioned he was so big," the second man says, coming around from behind the island, "He must be six foot three, give or take an inch, and he's hardly weak; the bloke is a brick shit house."
"I might ask for a bonus after this," the second man replies, "Now, come on. We need to wipe this place down before we take him to the van. He's not going to wake up for a long time. Elizabeth said that stuff is deadly in the right dosage so I trust she's made sure it'll keep him under for a good while."
The men clear up all of the mess made in the skirmish, removing any trace of a disturbance. Then they use the leftover wolf's bane to cover all of the kitchen surfaces, wiping every counter with the cloths until the entire room reeks of the plant. When they're satisfied with their work, they lift Gaspard between them and carry him down the road to their van; mission completed.
XXXXXXXXXX
"I'm home!" Samantha sings as she opens the front door.
She is met with an unexpected silence; Gaspard had told her that he would be home.
"Gaspard, are you here?" She calls.
There's no answer. As Samantha nears the kitchen she is hit with a sickening smell, so strong it causes her to wretch. Running out of the room, she coughs and gags; the scent of the wolf's bane is so thick in the air that it overwhelms her senses, bringing Samantha to her knees, panting. But it's no use; the shallow breaths she takes only contribute to the dizzying effect of the plant. Forcing her body to stand, she makes a dash for the front door, slamming it shut behind her without a second thought about her house keys that lay on the floor in the living room, dropped in her frenzy to get away. She collapses on the veranda, gasping in fresh air and trying to pull her thoughts back together. She pulls her phone out from her pocket and presses Gaspard's contact. She needs to find out if the reason he's not home is because he also wanted to get away from the smell; perhaps waiting until nightfall so he could ask Hannah to remove it. But if this was the case, surely he would have called to let her know. Maybe he left his phone indoors without thinking, just as she had left her keys. But as the phone rings, she can't hear anything coming from inside.
"Fuck's sake, Gaspard, pick up," Samantha mutters under her breath.
As if her words had been heard, Gaspard picks up the phone.
"Hello," Gaspard says.
His voice sounds strangely quieter and weaker than normal but Samantha's relief deafens her to the change.
"Oh thank goodness, Gaspard," Samantha breathes, "Have you been home at all?"
"Um, no, I haven't," he replies, "Why's that?"
"You're not going to believe this but someone has put wolf's bane inside the house," Samantha tells him, "And I'm not just talking a little bit, the whole kitchen reeks. I had to get out and I've left my keys indoors."
"Are you ok?" he exclaims, sounding horrified.
"Yes, I'm fine, just need to catch my breath is all," Samantha says, "Where are you, I thought you would be home?"
"Oh, yeah, I, um, sorry," he stutters, "Something came up at work but... But don't worry; I'm going to make it up to you."
"Gaspard, its work, there's nothing to make up for," Samantha frowns.
"I know, um, ok well it's just a surprise for you then," he says.
"A surprise for me," Samantha smiles.
"Yeah," he laughs so weakly that it's barely more than a weird exhale, "Actually, you should bring Hannah and Rosie with you too."
"Gaspard, are you ok?" Samantha asks, "You seem really, I don't know, nervous."
"I'm fine,' he insists, "How about nine o'clock at the top end of the woods?"
"Yeah, ok" Samantha nods, "See you then, I guess."
"Great," he answers.
"Ok, I love..." Samantha begins but is interrupted by the low humming sound of the line letting her know the call has ended.
What in earth was that all about? He hasn't sounded that shaky and awkward since he was first trying to tell her how he felt about her four years ago. Samantha puts it down to him hurrying the conversation along to return to his work. He doesn't like keeping clients waiting. So all she can do it sit on the veranda until Rosie comes home.
XXXXXXXXXX
"That was wonderful, Gaspard," Elizabeth smiles, "You could have sounded a bit more excited though. You're going to be seeing your girlfriend; possibly for the last time depending on how tonight pans out."
"I swear, when it get out of these chains," Gaspard growls.
"Not when, my dear, if," Elizabeth corrects him, kneeling down to his level to face him, "And even after that, once Hannah tells me all of your secrets, all of your weaknesses and the gaps in your defences, you and your pack won't rule the roost much longer anyway."
Gaspard's eyes shine a brilliant gold as he lunges forward, only going as far as his restraints will allow. For the first time in his life, he is well and truly stuck with no foreseeable way out. He is completely helpless; kept underground, in a light-tight dungeon where Elizabeth keeps her human slaves, Gaspard is bound in thick chains wrapping around his limbs, chest and neck. Elizabeth has prepared herself well; the chains strapped across his chest prevent him from standing and choke chain around his neck would surely strangle him if he were to try and shift.
"Even if you kill me, you will never destroy my pack," Gaspard snarls, "Sam will take over and you'll be driven back into the scum-ridden hole that you came from."
"Sam? You mean that bitch of yours?" Elizabeth laughs, "What do you think she's going to do? Bite my ankles? Bark at my door until I call the RSPCA?"
"Don't mock her," Gaspard says darkly, "I promise you, you'll regret it."
"Did you hear that, Sarah? George?" Elizabeth smirks, "I'm going to regret making fun of a five foot puppy."
Elizabeth's two vampire grandchildren snigger in the corner. Gaspard would like nothing more than to rip all of them apart but he can do nothing but listen to their laughter. The only comfort he has is that he's right; none of them have any idea what Samantha is capable of and he can only hope that they find out.