Calm down guys and dolls. You're all freaking the bean over Santana snogging Lylah. She cant suddenly run cold on the girl. San needs to keep Lylah sweet, well, at least until Sebastian leaves..
She's Britt's girl, through and through!
Thanks for your reviews.
Dedicated to BetTheDuckisInTheHat.
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VAMP VERSE
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Somewhere in Europe. 1690.
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The fur trapper, Puck had spoken of, had been at deaths door when they came upon him. His body ravaged by infection from his gangrenous leg, he had welcomed slipping into a painless and eternal slumber.
Having fed from a human, the two vampires had gained some sense of normality and the Pack's hostility had waned slightly, even going so far as to ask them to extend their stay by a few more days. However, some members remained, understandably, cautious.
Once over his initial shock and after much reassurance by Orin and Charlotte, that his reaction had been very normal and did not mean he was a fiend, Vargo had overcome his nerves enough to venture out.
As it happened, in his past life he had been a travelling magician, hence his ability and under the watchful eye of wary parents and intrigued Elders, the changelings took to him immediately, as he wowed them with a few simple tricks.
By the time the vampires had decided it was time for them to return to their own homes, Charlotte was sure of the Pack's innocence and promised to notify The Council as such. The Wolves made assurances they would not venture into the outlying towns or villages, unless to conduct business, as long as the town's people extended them the same courtesy where the forest was concerned.
Puck, Loren and Charn had eagerly volunteered to escort them back through the Sumava and when they departed, making promises to return in the near future with thralls in tow, it was to the waves and calls of Goodbye from Bieste, a majority of the Elders and children.
They had taken a different route through the weald, avoiding the House of Methuselah and the horrors that occurred there, and they had parted from each others company on the outskirts of the wildwood.
Charlotte no longer thought of the Bohmerwald pack as enemies to be regarded with suspicion but rather as potential future allies and caring friends.
She had met with the worried town council, repeating the words of Bieste, that they had nothing to fear from the pack that inhabited the woods and on the new moon they must prepare for Emissaries to discuss the terms of boundaries and protection.
In all, Charlotte had felt that great headway had been made and was satisfied that all would be well.
She had wanted to return home as soon as possible to get back to her beloved Dam and adorable offspring but had decided to take a small detour, which would only add another week to her journey.
It would be a small price to pay if it turned out to as fruitful as she hoped.
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There was one, her kind referred to as 'The Informer', many refusing to utter his real name from their lips in case it tainted them. Any vampire worth their salt knew of his existence and they knew how he came by the currency he touted.
Many would travel miles out of their way and in great peril in order to gain their own information and avoid dealing with him.
He was obsequious and childishly spiteful not to mention his delusions of grandeur at his importance to The Council, though he swore no loyalty to anyone but himself and his own goals. To go to him was to take a risk as sometimes he peevishly sold false, taking a twisted pleasure at his perceived manipulation. In addition, there was the issue of his preferred method of payment.
It turned the stomach.
You only ever came to him if you had no other option and you were desperate. Hence, the reason why she was standing ankle deep in excrement that was beginning to seep into the deerskin of her boots with a wooden box under her arm whose occupants squealed in fury.
Convinced that members of the Houses were out to get him for selling their secrets, Calan was always a little too paranoid for his own good but this time he was more rattled than usual. The number of Versipellis that skulked in the shadows had doubled since she had seen him last.
She had been man handled, well paw handled, her belongings inspected and now he was asking his Hounds to sniff the contents of the box for Moon Dust and Priests Bane. If she wanted rid of him, all she had to do was get past his guard dogs and shove a stake in his heart, he wasn't worth the elaborateness of poisoning.
Yanking her ankle out of the quagmire as it threatened to suck it back in she sighed,
"Calan, I assure you they are not tainted!"
The abhorrent vampire chortled,
"You can never be too careful my dear. Even though I have great relations with House Dubois, these are dubious times we live in!"
Lifting open the lid of the box a sliver, his eyes shone. As the creatures attempted to escape he slammed it shut.
"Yes, they will do nicely."
He turned to shuffle back to his wide, gaudy 'throne', swinging the whole of his left side as he moved as he suffered from the deformity of a wizened leg, which no amount of vampire blood or werewolf bites could cure.
Usually vampires were lured by beauty, talent or the unique so it was anyones guess as to why someone had rebirthed Calan. The only conclusion Charlotte could draw was that it had been some sort of cruel joke.
With a grand sweep of his hand, he gestured,
"Please, sit."
She tugged her foot out of the shit with a glooping sound.
The place stank to high heaven, built into the foundations between the market and the abattoir, he had fashioned himself a hall, containing a long table and over stuffed chairs covered in mildew. The city's waste, not to mention the stale blood from the slaughterhouse and excrement flowed through the tunnel she had just stepped out of and the roof overhead dripped with god only knows what.
All Charlotte could think was when she got out of here she was going to burn her clothes and scrub her skin with Priests Bane.
It was the only way she could think of how to get clean. Instead she lowered herself gingerly into the seat provided, sitting up right on the edge to touch as little as possible.
He reached into a basket beside him, pulling out a squirming rat by the scruff of the neck. It screamed and gnashed, whipping its long scaly tail back and forth, it's paws like human hands, clawing
"Would you like a drink?"
Her stomach lurched,.
"No thank you. I already ate. Had a nice delivery boy on the way."
Gripping the rodent by the front paws and it's nuque, he nicked it's jugular. Holding it over a cup, he squeezed and twisted the body; the snap of its bones reached her ears. He then had the audacity to shake it, as if its life source was an exotic beverage from the orient.
"Do you not find all that chasing your dinner business tiresome?"
He tossed the lifeless corpse into a nearby basket. Charlotte tried not to show her disgust, she got the impression that it was all an elaborate show and that he much preferred drinking straight from the source.
"May I get straight to the point, I was wondering if you had any information as to the whereabouts of my sister?"
He took along draft from his cup. Closing his bulbous eyes, he swallowed. A slight smile twisted the corners of stained lips, a look of bliss settling upon his features. He let out a long satisfied sigh. It was pathetic really, how he imagined himself a gentleman and a connoisseur.
His eyes opened a sliver as he began to stroke the rim of the faux gold goblet, fixing her with light brown eyes. For an instant, his face took on the look of the creatures he fed from. In that moment, it seemed to the blond the saying, 'You are what you eat' was never truer.
"Funny how your elitist Houses look down their noses at every body else, yet as soon as one of them flounders, they can't help but send someone to grovel at my door for my assistance."
Charlotte shifted impatiently, hoping he would finish soon.
It was always the same with him, the bitter comments and the droll conversation he mistook for witty banter. The only redeeming quality of the whole ordeal was that he liked to brag and if you could sift through the bullshit, like the Versepellis off to her left was currently doing, you could actually glean some handy hints as to the political climate.
She kept her tone sweet,
"The Houses do not send me. I come of my own worry for Lucinda. Not only is she my house sister but she is also my real life sibling.
He smiled broadly showing his twisted brown fangs,
"Ah the two beautiful Fabray sisters. Being most makers have, ahem, relations with their newborns," His eyes watched her keenly, "I always wondered, did you ever get jealous?"
He attempted to mask it, wrapping the question in an air of genuine curiosity, when it blatantly held a loaded double meaning. She knew what the dirty little pervert really wanted to ask was did they share or throw all decorum out of the window. There wasn't a hope in hell she was giving him a mental visual. Keeping her temper in check, she replied, steadily,
"A lady should never speak of such things, but if you must know, I wasn't around when Lucinda was reborn."
His face briefly flickered with disappointment.
"My sources have not spied her, I'm afraid," Catching her look of dismay at his words, he continued, " However because you always pay so handsomely and to see you come to ruin would not be in my best interests, I shall part some advice.. The time of The Council ruling these lands is ending,"
Even in her melancholy at hearing there was no news of her sister, his last sentence chilled her. She stiffened, asking cautiously,
"What on earth do you mean?"
He went back to show boating, relaxing back in his 'throne', gloating, as if he was the only one who knew the secret to a great treasure,
"I know of Methuselah and the demise of the Mystics. There is a new game afoot, with powerful new players hence the precautions you see around you."
It was a well known fact that Calan's beloved rodents came from far and wide, travelling great distances. He even claimed he could glean news as far as the Orient but as with many things he said, they had to be taken with a pinch of salt. She attempted to coax him, hoping he would be in a sharing mood,
"Are you saying you may know who is behind this?"
He picked at the paste jewels that adored the goblet, glancing at her slyly,
"I have my suspicions.".
"You have a duty to tell The Council!"
Enraged he slammed the goblet down on the table, his eyes bulged out further and his face turned beet red as he screeched,
"The Council! The same Council that demand we abide by their archaic rules that benefit only themselves." The vein in the middle of his forehead pulsed as he worked himself into a frenzy. "We are not the only ones Charlotte. I have seen the New World. It is vast. The Packs and Spirit Walkers that rule there make your kind look weak and pathetic in comparison. How do you think your precious Houses will survive then?"
If Calan was, correct and there were more phenomenal beings out there, it would only be a matter of time before all vampires would have to band together. An uprising or any sort of discord would only weaken them further. Leaping from her seat, she cried,
"Calan! This is bigger than you and your petty vendettas. You know as well as I do if the balance is upset, it will plunge this land back into bloodshed. We cannot afford a repeat of the Dark Ages! There are innocent people's lives at stake!"
"Why should we skulk around them, afraid they shall become aware of our existence? Once over we were revered as Gods!"
She could not believe her ears. The last time someone had spoken similar words it had cost them dearly.
Whipping round to face him as he sat smugly in his chair, she screamed,
"We are nothing with out them!"
She was hit with a wave of fatigue and the overwhelming need to see her Dam. Turning on her heel, she took off, speeding down the tunnel, not caring as to the spray of shit she was covering herself in.
He shouted after her,
"I suggest you choose wisely as to the side you pick Charlotte of House Dubois. It would be a shame to see you come to a tragic end!."
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Ps gaaaa Quintana… Friends ! Friends I tell you!
Btw even though I hate the holiday as it's the only day that manages to make me feel like an undesirable failure.
Ie Phone calls from female family members asking what are u doing with ur life, why don't u have some one, what are u doing wrong, *sigh* im never getting any grand kids, maybe u should try a fella..
(the other 364 days of the years im a ray of sunshine, except Christmas but at least I get to dress up as the Grinch for that)
I understand that some of u aren't as grouchy as I am so
Happy weapon brandishing, diaper wearing, winged infant of doom Day!