Hello hello! This chapter is all mine, and the idea was given to me by my hero Sting with his amazing song 'Moon Over Bourbon Street'. I processed a few tidbits of the lyrics in them, kudos if you find all of them!
Last chapter dragged the reviews over 200! 0_o THANK YOU SO MUCH! A special shoutout to Lisa1972, who gave me the 200th review and also to everyone who came before and after. You guys are amazing!
This chapter is vampire au with Vampire!Killian and human!Emma.
Rated: K+ for vampirey stuff
I hope you enjoy!
The moon shone brightly over Bourbon Street tonight. As it did almost every night. It had become a boring routine, really. The French Quarter of New Orleans was never really quiet; there was always a party of some kind going on. And more often than not, some kind of parade with lots of flair and music. And all under the watchful eye of the moon.
Killian would love to be part of it once more, he thought, as he watched from his vantage point, seeing faces as they passed beneath the pale lamplight. But alas, he never could be. Not anymore. That had been taken away from him against his will. Now he had no choice but to follow that call.
He shifted on his steady feet, not really needing to, but doing so anyway. Anything to feel at least a bit normal. He felt hungry, the hunger he didn't want to feel. He prayed every day to be strong, for he knew what he did was wrong. He hated it. He hated the feelings that feeding brought up in him, because his inner demon loved it. He tried to fight it. Every night he tried and failed, and another life was lost.
Killian looked down at the street, sighing unhappily as he searched for a new lowlife that no one would miss. But even having lowlifes felt wrong. Having humans at all felt wrong. But he couldn't stop. Going cold turkey didn't work. He couldn't live without it, the rush of the chase, the quenching of the hunger and thirst, he just couldn't.
That was what he'd become. An addict. With an addiction that would kill him if he stopped but was killing others in the process. He sighed miserably. He just wanted it to end, but the blood lust was too much. And of course, he'd promised.
And Killian Jones does not break his promises.
He quickly and quietly moved to the next location, having finally spotted a suitable prey. A scumbag of which he'd seen (and taken) so many. He was following a young woman, a predatory look in his eyes. Killian didn't even have to open his mind to know the thoughts of this man and they were far from pure.
He jumped down to the street and began stalking his newfound prey. The man never noticed Killian as he snatched him, knocked him unconscious and dragged him off to a dark street. His feeding alley, as he liked to call it. Here's where he fed his hunger.
He stared at the man's neck, and let the hunger take over. He heard the pulse, going steady, pumping blood through the man's body. Blood that would soon be flowing through his. The pain in his mouth indicated that his fangs were growing rapidly, until they stood at full length. Then he bit down.
And the thirst broke him instantly.
Like he was nothing more than a rabid animal, he fed and fed, his mind buzzing alive with the new sustenance. Everything was so much simpler now, so much clearer. He was a vampire. He was on top of the food chain. It didn't matter what he did, nobody would remember it in twenty short years. Because what was twenty years while he was going on forever? Nothing. A mere second. He was more superior to this weaker race, so fragile and breakable.
It wasn't until he stopped feeling a pulse, that the haze vanished, and guilt came knocking. He'd drained this man, killed him and he'd liked it.
Nobody would ever be the wiser. That's how he worked. Quickly, silently and with guilt. Nobody ever saw his face, or heard the sound of his feet.
He left the man's body in a place no one would soon find him and started scouring Bourbon Street, staying in the shadows, not looking up. He couldn't risk finding another, more innocent prey. He had to keep his head down until he could climb again.
It was many years ago, that he became what he was now. All because one woman couldn't live without him, and turned him one night. His Milah. It wouldn't have been bad, and it wasn't at first, because they were together. But then she died at the hands of a vampire hunter named Gold. He was alone, set to face all of eternity alone. He was utterly trapped in this life, like an innocent lamb. Now he could never show his face at noon. Never feel the sunlight again. You could only see him walking by the light of the moon. He looked up at said moon wistfully, hoping to God for some kind of redemption. He didn't want to be this way, didn't want to kill to survive.
He jumped into a tree, his feet steady and light upon the branch, and he looked over Bourbon Street. Saw pale faces, drunk and sober, moving down the street towards home or towards the next bar. He heard faint music coming from somewhere. Laughter in the distance. Life continued around him, and he could never be part of it again.
He'd been watching and hunting in New Orleans for quite some time now, going on about thirty years at the moment and it struck him that this city was the one that changed the least, but was never the same. The parties were always different, the people never walked the same way twice. There was a certain comfort in it for him. He didn't want a life that was as still and unmoving as his looks. He loved watching people have a life, one he could never have again. But watching it gave him some kind of gratification. He didn't feel as still and dead when he watched others live an upbeat life.
It was during these musings that he saw her. The woman that had ensnared his thoughts, and infinitely mesmerized him. She was still as gorgeous as ever, even more so than a few years ago. It was like she grew more beautiful the older she became. Her hair burned golden in the pale moonlight. He knew her eyes to be bright green, and during daytime, when he had to hide, it was those eyes that kept him from going insane. She walked every day through the streets of New Orleans, innocent and young. Like the day he met her, only now she was a woman.
He had watched her grow up. He'd first bumped into her 'bout twenty years ago. She'd been eight at the time, wide-eyed and innocent, but a kind of brokenness in her eyes that he'd recognized from his mirror image. Orphan. She'd been crying, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks wet. He'd crouched down in front of her and wiped her cheeks gently. "What's wrong, little lass?" he'd asked softly.
"Mrs. Bently says I can't play with the other children, because I've been bad." she'd whispered, her voice unsteady, and he'd felt for her. "But I don't remember being bad."
"What's your name, love?"
"Emma." she'd hiccupped, rubbing her eyes.
He'd smiled. "A good, strong name for a strong lass like you. Listen to me, Emma. People are going to tell you who you have to be all your life. You just have to push back and say, 'No, this is who I am'. Do you understand?" She'd nodded, her eyes brighter than before. "You don't have to change for anyone if you don't want to. You just have to be true to yourself. Can you do that for me, Emma?" She'd nodded again, a small smile gracing her lips. For some unknown reason, he'd felt immensely protective of this child. He had wanted to take all her pain away. But alas, he hadn't been able to. "Good lass. Run along now."
"Are you my guardian angel?" she'd asked, taking him completely off-guard. An angel? More like the devil personified. But he'd smiled at her.
"No, Emma."
"But you helped me. Isn't that what guardian angels do?" Oh, she'd been so innocent, and his heart had ached with pity for this little girl who'd grow up in a cruel world without the protection of proper parents.
"Yes, it is." he'd decided on answering. "But I'm no angel, love. Not by a long shot." She'd looked so bummed that, damn it, he hadn't been able to help his next words. "But I will watch over you, Emma. Whenever you're in peril, I'll protect you. Promise."
"Pinky swear?" She'd held up her pinky to him and he hadn't been able to do anything but hook his pinky in hers. She'd beamed with bright-eyed happiness and had then almost turned around. Almost, because she'd remembered something. "What's your name?"
He'd been stupid, so stupid to answer honestly. "Killian." She'd smiled and disappeared. He'd kept his promise. He'd watched over her for years, watched her grow up. She became fierce and beautiful, like the sea he loved so much. People tried to tell her who she was, but she pushed back, time and time again. She became a strong woman, one who he'd admired from afar for so long.
It had given him purpose, his role as her protector. And now, twenty years later, he'd fallen for her. For a long time, he'd seen her as the sister he never had. But the older she became, the more he realized how much light she gave his life by just being. Her strength gave him strength.
She disappeared inside her apartment and Killian knew where he had to be. He'd stood many times outside her window at night, to struggle with his instincts in the pale moonlight. And so he did tonight. His hunger was appeased now, but she was always a temptation to him. In every way. He hid between the leaves of the tree before her window, trying very hard not to look inside. He was still a gentleman, and a gentleman doesn't spy on the woman he fancies. He almost fell out of the tree when her window was suddenly thrown open and she leaned out. He stared at her, transfixed. She wore nothing but her black under dress and it wasn't exactly hiding a lot. Gods, she was beautiful. He noticed new things about her every day. Things that made her even more beautiful. Now it was the birthmark on her neck, just below her ear, that he hadn't noticed before.
She inhaled the night air and then disappeared inside, leaving the window open. He crept forward and balanced himself on a branch just thick enough to take him. The coolness of her room wafted towards him and he felt so drawn. This call was even stronger than his primal one, and so he jumped, landing on his feet silently. She stood, with her back to him, by her vanity table, brushing out her hair. The moonlight that fell through her window made her hair spark with hundreds of stars. He straightened himself and watched her for a moment. She moved with grace and surety. Like a swan.
He smirked, and then opened his mouth, deeming it time to present himself. "Hello, Emma."
She stiffened for a moment, before turning around. Her eyes sparked with laughter and the smirk that played around her lips was absolutely sinful. "Hello, Killian." she said. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."
tbc...?
Review, pretty please with cherry on top?
