It's been 3 months, so a little refresher:
Of Elsa: She felt his fanged lip brush against her ear and heard an unsettling whisper, "Flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood." Her stomach churned, her body shook, but she could not move.
Of Jack Frost: 289 years ago, this very day, he had died. He had been seventeen. Are people allowed to celebrate their own death anniversaries?
Of the Guardians: "But we're planning to move out this Sunday!"
Of Elinor Dunbroch, mother of the deceased Merida: "Let me make no mistake." There was fire in her eyes as she spoke, almost unnatural. "Those responsible will pay." And somehow, her gaze rested on Jack when she said that
Of the one called 'Gothel': "Well, you see … but I too have lost my own daughter many years ago…Oh, no, no. She's not dead – not yet anyway. But she's a prisoner to a very powerful creature, trapped by him in a terrible trance."
Of Eugene Fitzherbert, or whatever name he bears presently: It was just three seconds after he had walked out of the flaming front door, clothes on his back burning and the bundle in his arms not, when another explosion burst through the bungalow…With the state of his leg, it was gonna be a long trek to Burgess.
~~~0~~
Sort of Warning: Some disturbing ideas near end of chapter. If you can bear with it, you're fine for the rest of this story. Still T-rating.
~~~0~~~
"That would be four dollars."
Hans handed over the appropriate amount, and didn't miss the way the cashier's cheeks flushed when their hands brushed. He pretended not to notice though, because that's part of his charm – the charming but clueless dork. It's a guise that seemed quite popular these days.
He moved over to the collection counter after getting his receipt. There's no one else in the queue, since most other patrons of the café have already obtained their orders and drifted off their separated ways. Bored, he caught sight of the newspaper stand nearby and decides to browse it while waiting.
DRACULA' STRIKES AGAIN!
Within a span of week, the blood-thirsty attacker has snared his second victim, and this time, he has succeeded.
Merida Dunbroch, the sixteen year old student who has been missing since two days prior, has been found brutally beheaded at Burgess High. Her family had laid her to rest today at the Burgess County Cemetery, with over hundreds of her schoolmates spotted in attendance. The authorities have vowed that the murder behind this brutal act will found and brought to justice.
Hans snorts.
For all the promises, however, reliable sources have hinted that the police remain confound the methods of the mysterious 'Dracula', as well as his goals. Fortunately, Private Investigator Flynn Rider, famed for solving the Pines' Kidnapping and the Music box Mystery with Corona PD, is on the case.
The redhead quirked a brow as he replaced the paper on its rack, for the other articles were just talking about these terrible storms that have been happening and the numerous casualties. Nothing of particular interest to him.
"Double Chocolate Mocha for Hans?" the barista called.
He headed to the counter to retrieve his order, and wasn't completely surprised to find that the accompanying napkin had a number scribbled on it. The barista's not looking at him, but there's slight blush to her cheeks and her grin was a little too wide.
He thanked her before taking the beverage up to the self-serve table. Uncapping his chosen drink, his hands brushed briefly over the shakers full of cinnamon and vanilla sprinkles, before resting on the chocolate one. At the same time, his free hand reached in his pocket for a tiny vial, barely longer than his thumb. A quick glance around the café proved that no one was watching him. Well, except for the barista, but she shyly glanced away when their eyes met.
Using his body to shield his work, Hans removed the cap of the vial and emptied the clear turquoise liquid into the coffee. It's barely visible on the whip cream, but he uses a straw to stir it in just in case. He then dumps a generous helping of cocoa dust over the drink. Like magic, all signs of his manipulation had were smoothly covered.
After replacing the cap, he checked once more if there were any watchful eyes – there weren't – before using the napkin with the phone number to scratch off the 'H' and 'S' on the cup. Behind the 'AN' that the barista had scribbled there, he added an 'N' and 'A' with the black marker that he had stolen from the counter. Grabbing a few more napkins just in case, he then departed the café, though not before giving the barista a little wave.
The young woman went completely nuts over it. It's kind of ridiculous, he thought to himself as he climbed into his car, how easily it was to manipulate the fairer sex.
The redheaded gentleman checked his phone for the location, before setting off to the desired destination. The town's traffic was easy-going this afternoon, and the only time he had to stop was for a red light. When that happened, he glanced behind him to the backseat, just to make sure that he had brought everything that he needed.
Finally, his sedan drew up to the bus stop just around the high school. The school seemed largely deserted, probably because its students had already gone off to spend their afternoon on other frivolities. There was only one figure slumped against the bus-stop bench, with bags under eyes and a yawn gracing her lips.
He buried his feelings of disgusts, rolling down his window and beaming at the girl. "Hey, sleepyhead."
Her eyes widened when she saw him, and her smile stretched itself so wide that it's a wonder that her cheekbones hadn't crack. "Hans!"
He let out a chuckle, the one that he knew had been described as utterly enchanting. His head jerked towards the seat next to his. "Hop on."
Anna was only too glad to comply, and her eyes widened when she saw the double-chocolate mocha waiting in the cup holder next to their seat. "Is that for me?" she asked as the car door slammed shut behind her, locking itself.
"Well, I don't know any other beautiful young lady in need of a caffeine kick," Hans answers in a good-humoured fashion.
That earned a giggle from her and she reached to take the drink eagerly.
"Uh, uh." He slapped her hand away just as the car started rolling away. He surveyed the environment quickly. No one in sight, so no one could say where she went. His expression didn't betray any of his meticulousness. "Seat-belt first."
She pouted at him, and he supposed that if he were genuinely attracted to her, he'd find it adorable. But after years of the most beautiful women in the world throwing themselves at him, nothing's really adorable to him anymore, especially not some brainless, high-school bimbo.
After buckling herself in, Anna picked up the double-choc mocha and began slurping it up, humming in delight. Smacking her lips, she said to him, "So, where've you been? So many crazy things have been happening around here!"
"Wow, really?" He feigned surprised. "I mean, I had to go out of town for a few days, so I'm a bit out of the loop."
"Oh, I can tell you all about it." She took the bait. Of course, she did. She really liked the sound of her own voice. Taking a slurp of her coffee, Anna proceeded to elaborate, "First up, I ended up in hospital after Valentine's Day. It was CRAZY, and Elsa – my sister, in case you don't remember – was really nuts, because apparently, that time after you left me at my house, I-" she suddenly stopped, thinking.
As she thought, she took a number slurp of coffee, frowning. Turning to him, she asked, "Actually, what happened that night?"
"What do you mean 'what happened that night'?" he questioned back in a perfectly innocent tone.
"I mean, I assume that you dropped me off at my house." Her brows creased together. "But actually, I don't remember watching you leave."
"Really?" His tone stayed neutral, and his eye briefly flitted to his watch as he drove them deeper and deeper into the forest-covered road. "Because I did leave."
"Yeah, but the next time I woke up, I was lying in a puddle of blood, and I-" she frowned, as a realisation dawned on her, one that she didn't seem to like. "I mean, I was attacked by someone after you left. But if it's after you left, how come I don't remember seeing you-"
"You," he interrupted, tone abruptly icy, "are incredibly stupid, aren't you?"
The change in manner stunned her so much that the coffee nearly slipped from her hands. Disbelief marked in her expression, she whispered, "What?"
"I said." His voice was harsh. He stepped harder onto the pedal. By now they were far out enough in the woods, so it wouldn't matter if she screamed. "You are incredibly stupid, aren't you?"
She still didn't believe it. Of course she didn't. Because if she was stupid enough to believe in love at first sight, she was stupid enough to get in a car with a stranger and consume the first thing he put her hands.
It was so, so gratifying to see her suddenly double forward, clutch her chest and gasp. The coffee spillage on the dashboard was, however, regrettable.
~~~0~~~
Egg Bhurji (by Tooth)
What You Need:
4 Eggs
1 Cup of chopped Pork Blood
3 Green Chilies
1 Tablespon of Ginger paste
2 Finely Chopped Onions
2 tbsp Oil
0.5 Cup of Corainder Leaves
Salt & Pepper to Taste
What To Do:
1) Whisk eggs with fork and set aside.
2) Add oil to medium heat pan. Spread it evenly.
3) Add chopped onions and ginger paste. Sautee till frangrant.
4) Add in green chillies.
5) Add chopped blood. Allow the water produced to dry up.
6) Stir in some coriander leaves and add salt.
7) Pour in whisked eggs. Don't scramble them yet, but let them cook.
8) When the egg is half cooked, stir the mixture until small bits of egg are formed.
9) Remove heat and stir in rest of coriander.
10) Serve with buttered bread or rice.
~~~0~~~
This was, for the lack of a better term, positively diabetic.
Jack watched in rapture as the lithe woman by his side added spoon after spoon of caster sugar into the bowl. Horrified rapture, mind you.
Eventually, her hand got tired, so she just ditched the spoon, picked up the sides of the plastic container and just dumped that at least half of its contents into the mixing bowl.
"Okay." She finally ceased the waterfall, but the deed had already been done. Looking at the little white hill in mixing bowl sent all kind of queasy feelings down Jack's gut. "Let's stir it up again."
Wordlessly, the boy lowered the hand-mixer into the bowl, but he couldn't shooting uneasy glances towards the woman. No one could possibly eat this much sugar and still be alive. Well, okay, he was a vampire, so he wasn't alive. But seriously, even the undead would think twice before consuming this much sweetness.
"When do you think we should we add the blood in?" Rapunzel asked him, completely oblivious about her crime against decent cuisine. For a doctor, her dietary habits were quite appalling.
"Let's mix it a bit more first," was all he managed to say. Jack upped the speed of mixer, doing his best to down the sugar into the doughy-emulsion. If he couldn't see the sugar, then maybe he could pretend it wasn't there. Hmmph. Maybe this was the real reason her husband didn't like her cookies. Note to self – quarter the amount of sugar in the recipe for the future.
Our young vampire had been working to keep himself as occupied as possible, and cooking was one of the best ways he knew how. Which was sort of weird, because he wasn't actually that great a cook. But it also sort of made sense, because his sub-par cooking skills meant that he had to take extra focus to do the steps right, and right now he wanted his focus diverted. Diverted from the horrible death, the horrible funeral, and the horrible conversation with Merida's mother.
Okay, the funeral was lovely and Merida's mum was polite, but it was the feelings that they stirred in him, feelings that he hadn't dwelled on for the longest time.
Guilt.
It wasn't that Jack had forgotten his own murderous past. After all, it had been quite instrumental in shaping who he was today. But the feelings that had come attached to every neck that he had mutilated, every being that had sucked dry of blood, had been muted under the mundane routine of domesticity. Only on occasion would it fire up full force, replaying all the pale faces and ripped flesh.
Though he wasn't the one who killed her, Merida's face did not leave him. It was understandable, since now her face was attached to her head, which itself would never again be attached her body.
Sixteen, dammit. She was sixteen. Just a kid. Well, he was kid when he died to, but, hey, seventeen was pretty much adulthood in the day. In the present times, sixteen was like the in-between. Not quite child, but not quite adult. It was the prime of the teenage years. With the snap of the fingers – gone. Just like that. Just like that.
When Rapunzel told him to remove the mixer and continue the folding of dough by hand, he was only too happy to do so. Punching mixture gave him something to do, something to think about other than mortality and blood and murder and how cursedly unjust it all. He knew that the police were on the case, knew that he wasn't blamed in anyway, but it didn't stop the gnawing deep inside of him – and it wasn't his appetite.
"Err, Jack?" came a small voice from Rapunzel.
"What?" He paused his actions, glancing up towards her.
She pointed down to the edge of the bowl, where four dents marked its rim. It seemed that his grip was a bit too tight.
"Oh." He dropped the bowl on the table. "Ah."
"Maybe you can help me get the chocolate?" The blonde suggested in a helpful manner. "I can do the rest of mixing. There isn't much."
He didn't protest, even though her instructions didn't make much sense. Washing the dough from his hands, Jack headed out of the kitchen to the living room, where Rapunzel had dumped her groceries and some other knick-knacks that she had with her. She wasn't too keen to share the main fridge since, well, most of it was blood and not very hygienic. He had promised to help her transfer the cold products to the drink fridge they had upstairs, but before they had done so, they had gotten distracted by baking.
After fishing out the industrial sized chocolate bar that she bought, he turned on his heel and was about to leave when a hand wrapped itself around his wrist.
"What the-" he jerked his head towards the perpetrator to find "-Eugene?"
"Hi." The vampire was obviously not in a good mood, if his expression was anything to go by. By his tattered clothes, bleeding leg, multiple scars, it was pretty obvious why.
"What happened to you?" The boy gawked, before glancing at the box that he had tucked under his hip. It was labelled in a scrawl 'Eloise'. "What's that?"
"I need you to put this somewhere safe." The brunette man's gait was one-sided, and it's cause was evident by the large red patch on his leg. But he didn't seem to notice it as he hobbled to the doorway, glancing down the corridor. "Where's Rapunzel?"
"In the kitchen," Jack supplied. The cooking expedition was quite forgotten by now. "I'll go get her to-"
"No, no." Eugene's grip on him tightened uncomfortably. His voice was lowered, as if he feared being overheard. "Not yet. I can't let her see me like this. She'd freak."
The younger fellow scrunched his face up. "She's a doctor! She's not going to freak over your wounds."
"No. She'd freak on how I got them." He shoved the cardboard box into Jack's hands. "Now hide this somewhere safe. I've got something to show you."
Puzzled, Jack conceded to the vampire's odd request, hiding the box in a Vietnamese-style lacquered cupboard along the cupboard. Locking it up, he pressed the key in Eugene's hand. The vampire pocketed it before gesturing him to follow.
Evening was falling quicker than usual, what with all the dark clouds overhead. It was perpetually cloudy these days, for some reason, with rainfall often falling. Eugene however hadn't seem to notice this, marching straight towards the forest. Well, marching as well as a limping man could. He didn't enter the forest however, just stopped by one of the trees along its rim.
Jack sidled up next to him, waiting for him to explain.
Finally, Eugene asked, "How many surveillance cameras do you have surrounding the house?"
This question threw him off. "Err. None?"
"Is that so? Then what is-" he pointed up, between the branches of a bald conifer "-that?"
Jack squinted up in the gestured direction. At first, he didn't see it. But then, the reflection of the lens against the porch light. It was a wonder that his jaw didn't hit the ground. "How long it has that been there?"
"They."
"What?"
"How long have 'they' been there?" Noting the white-haired lad's mystified expression, Eugene elaborated in a surprisingly neutral fashion, "I've counted at least fifteen in around the mansion."
"Fifteen?" Without a thought, the younger vampire had already leapt up the tree, reaching for the hidden the device and crushed it in his hands. The remaining pieces fell like sand down to the ground as he growled, "Where are the rest?"
"Well, there's a couple more that way but-"
And there Jack went, springing from tree to tree with such agility that monkeys would be envious. But he didn't have the carefree joy of a monkey as he did his hasty circuit through the branches. He was a man on a mission, seeking out the unassuming black devices and smashing them between his palms. He didn't dare look at them. He didn't dare imagine the hands that had bought them, that set them up. He didn't dare imagine the eyes that had been watching the footage. In his mind, alarm bells clanged, how long, how long, how long…
When he landed back next to Eugene, he had with him the crushed debris of twenty cameras.
"As I was saying," the brunette fellow sounded a little annoyed, "it's probably too late to remove them. Whoever planted them already has all the information they need. They know your movements – yours, and all those of Guardians." His expression darkened. "They know my wife's here. They probably worked out her name. That's how they knew where our home was."
Jack spun to him, brows raised.
And so that was when Eugene told him of the assailant that had invaded his and Rapunzel's home, had fought him, had survived a shot through the head but wasn't a vampire, had set their home ablaze and had escaped with Rapunzel's laptop.
"Don't know what he was, but he's dangerous. With Rapunzel's laptop, more so than ever," was the grim conclusion, ending with a hiss from Eugene as he shifted his weight from his good leg to bad one briefly – just briefly.
The boy frowned. "What's so important about the laptop?"
"Oh, nothing of grave importance. Just the detailed records of every patient my wife has ever had." His light tone gained an edge of gravity. "Including those of the more peculiar nature."
"How many … peculiar patients has she had?"
"Hundreds across the last decade, even before we came to Burgess." Eugene chewed on his lip briefly, digging his hands in his pockets. "If this guy's from Van Helsing, like I think he is, all he needs is to send that data to headquarters and boom - bloodbath."
Jack cursed every word he knew, tugging against his hair as he paced up down the grounds. Darkness was closing in now, and the two of them would have to head back in, but he didn't want to. He felt like he couldn't, knowing that the home he had treasured all these years was no longer as safe as he once thought it was.
"Also, the laptop has my wife's research. It contains a lot of lesser-known discoveries of unnatural creatures, including vampires," his limping companion added. "These facts could be easily used against us one day."
"Oh, brilliant," Jack muttered sarcastically. "Is there anything else you'd like to unload on me?"
"Not at the moment." Eugene rolled his shoulders back. "But we should really work on getting that laptop back."
"Provided the agent's still in Burgess." He scratched his scalp for a moment, an idea suddenly dawning on him. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if your guy's the one who killed Merida."
"The witch girl?" The elder vampire pauses a few moments to digest this notion. "But why?"
"Well, she did kill another Van Helsing operative," Jack mentioned quietly. Noting Eugene's confusion, he explained, "You know that the first time we met and I had bandages and stuff? Merida killed that operative attacked me."
At the mention of this, the elder fellow went silently very quiet.
"What is it?"
Then it hit him. Both them said it at the same time, though in slightly different way –
"It's the same person."
"It's Hans. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap!"
Eugene let out a low whistle, scratching his goatee. "It ties up. It's revenge. Man, I don't know how I'm going to explain this to the mother."
"He's not dead. He was never dead, because he has some ability to not die." In his rant, Jack had completely ignored the other vampire. "That's why her body was in my locker. It's a taunt! A mockery!" He let out a shaky breath, dragging a palm down his face. "It's a warning."
"If you're in danger, then so's my wife." Eugene's emerald eyes suddenly flashed in manner that wasn't quite friendly. "You brought this upon us."
The white-haired lad didn't disagree, because it made sense. Merida got involved in his fight with Hans, and paid for it. And now Eugene and Rapunzel didn't have a home anymore, because they came to save Bunny.
His knees suddenly felt weak and he had to rest a hand against the tree trunk. That was when he saw it – the leather-bound volume, resting on grass so innocently, as if it had always been there. He bent forward, picking it up. Turning to the first page was all the confirmation he needed.
Eugene glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the book with suspicion. "What's that?"
Jack didn't answer him. Stepping out into the wood, he yelled, "Elsa? You there?"
No reply.
"Elsa?" He tried once more. He knew the chances were small, but still, the book was here. She had come to find him. Perhaps after reading the book, she would know for sure the truth – the dark secret that he had to hide. But she had been here. She had wanted to come all the same. It was the most foolish of hope, but he still hoped that that meant that she still wanted him, too, in some way. "Elsa!"
Nothing. Maybe his discovery was too late.
"Kid," Eugene's voice wafted down to him, "we should go in. Rapunzel's probably noticed your disappearance. Also,-" he glanced down at himself "-I seriously need a bath. I've been trudging through the mud all day."
Reluctantly, the boy withdrew from the woods, still casting wistful glances that way nonetheless. He didn't know what it was he longed for first, but still…but still…
"Don't tell any of this to Rapunzel, by the way," Eugene added as they moved towards the porch, himself still hobbling courageously on. "I don't like her worried."
Jack's gaze finally withdrew from the forest. Who was he kidding? Elsa wouldn't be there anymore. "But shouldn't she know that your house has been, I don't know, razed to the ground?"
"Yeah, but not how it happened. I don't like her worried over this kind of thing." The elder vampire let out a long sigh, his lips curved downward. "It's my job to handle."
The boy cast him a bemused look as he pushed the door open. "I'm sure Rapunzel can handle stuff better than you give her credit for."
"Just do what I say, okay?" Eugene snapped with surprising ferocity. "I know my wife best."
They encountered Rapunzel shortly after their re-entry, and as expected, she began to fuss over Eugene's battered appearances. When she asked, he said, "Bad storm. Lightning struck the house. Caught fire." When asked on the leg, he said, "Gun misfired while escaping. Silver bullets. Old gun, y'know."
The boy was proud of himself for listening to these with a perfectly straight face, because they were probably the dumbest lies he had ever heard.
The doctor with the long, yellow braid fortunately was easy to convince, and she led her husband upstairs where she could better treat him. Jack followed them up, but only to head towards Bunny's room. The grumpy old geezer would want his precious book back, and maybe he would finally stop accusing Elsa of being a hunter.
On his way, it occurred to the lad that there was something off about the book. Like, there was something wrong with its…
He placed the leather-bound volume under his nose, and frowned.
…its scent.
Opening up the book, he was flooded by a wash of thick iron. Fresh, from newly spilled blood. Not animal blood either, for the scent was too raw. Too hot. Too delectable.
And then he saw the pages. Each page, each carefully inscribed recipes, was smeared with red. He flipped to check – red, red, red, red, red. The words on the pages could barely be deciphered.
The page of Bunny's blood brownie recipe caught his eye. He had dog-eared that one for the Valentine's Day sale, and had read it at least a dozen times to memorise it. He had mastered it so that he could teach it to his two human friends, and they had a bloodless version for their peers. It was one of those little cakes that he had gifted the blonde girl of his dreams, asking her to be his - if only for a day.
Like the others, it was smeared with blood, except that the smears were legible - 'You're too late.'
The page across it – 'Five years too late'.
The page behind – 'She's mine.'
The page across that – 'She's always been.'
He didn't need to take a deep breath to know who's blood it was. He knew her scent, because it was one of the many thing that he knew about her. One of the many things that attracted him to her.
One of the many things that also attracted other things – other terrible things – to her.
A shudder ran down his spine as he recalled their second date, when she had told him her tragic tale.
The face in the dark, with bloodied fangs.
He dropped the book and sprinted out of the house.
~~~0~~~
The ride home was deathly quiet.
Perhaps it was childish to treat Kai this way. He was, after all, just trying to look after her the best way he knew how. Yet, if it wasn't as if she had never tried to explain. He just didn't get it. He had placed it down as 'nightmares' and 'PTSD', facts that he had learned after reading a dozen and one psychology books.
Yet, she had to give him credit. Studying such books was beyond the duties of an ex-butler. She knew that her 'issues' had been distinctly out of his comfort zone. He was trying, out of loyalty to his deceased employer and his family. She was grateful.
But not grateful enough to pretend.
"If this is going to work, Elsa, you need to cooperate with the psychiatrist," her guardian chided her just as the car pulled up at red light.
The roads were fairly empty, with only an occasional sedan pulling up elsewhere and the sky was dark with ominous clouds. The weather had been on quite on the gloomier side these days, a dour reflection of her mood.
"You need to talk to him if it's going to work."
She didn't reply him, choosing instead to stare out of the window. Pit-pat went two drops of rain on the glass, and just as the car started again, the pit-patter-pat-pitter came in a faster rhythm, before exploding into a full-frontal downpour.
"Brilliant," Kai murmured as he pressed on the pedal, letting the car sail past the green light.
With the rain smacking so loudly on the roof, a lull fell between them. Kai turned off the radio, because it was impossible to hear the music under all the noise anyway. Elsa just took it as a reprieve from the reprimand that her guardian was going to give her. She hadn't the slightest chance of defending herself. After all, how could she explain it to him? And if she couldn't explain it to someone whom she almost regarded as family, how could she explain it to some stranger in an office?
"Text your sister," Kai's tone was curt. He wasn't very happy with her, and the weather was doing nothing to make it better. The sky being this murky meant that there was nothing to illuminate their way but the headlights. At his age, night vision was not easily summoned and it was undoubtedly stressing him out. "If she's still out with her friends, I might go pick her up."
As Elsa whipped out her phone to comply, it occurred to her how disconnected she had been with Anna recently. The conversation between them had been ranging from hostile to coldly informative. It was probably her fault, of course, but how could she possibly explain to her sister what she herself barely understood? No, it was better that Anna didn't know. What she didn't know could hurt her.
Hopefully.
Just as she sent the message and lowered her phone to her lap, a chill suddenly shot up her spine. Her back went ramrod straight as she turned her head slowly towards the window.
There in the dark, what was that?
To Kai, she asked, "Do you see something there?"
"What?" He only cast a fleeting glance towards her, then eyes flew back to the slippery road.
A terrible sense of Deja vu washed over the girl as she saw a flickering in the rain, and for some reason, she could feel him there. Him, and his gold-flecked eyes.
"Kai, we need to turn back."
Her guardian gave her a much longer look this time. "What, you want to talk to the psychiatrist now? The clinic's probably closed by now."
"No, it's-" her words were caught in her throat when she saw him. It was just a slender form of black, could have easily been a tree, but she knew it was him. She didn't know why she knew, and she didn't want to know why either. "We just need to turn around now. There's something in the woods."
"What, like a bear or something?"
"Kai." The urgency in her voice heightened. "Please, please, just turn us back."
"Elsa, I can't make a U-turn here. It's too narrow. Wait till I-"
"Kai!" She grabbed his arm. She didn't mean to. In fact, she usually didn't initiate physical contact, even with gloves. Kai knew that, which was why he paid attention went she did it. "We need to turn it around. He's here, and he'll-"
She pursed her lips together. She hadn't meant to let that slip.
Kai's alarm turned into a sorrowful kind of chiding. "Elsa, you know that this isn't real. This is why you need to-"
He never got to finish that sentence, because suddenly they were both suddenly flung forward and the car tipped over.
~~~0~~~
Himmel und Erde (Apple & Potatoes) (by Sandy)
Ingredients:
5 Large potatoes
5 Large apples (Any kind)
2 Tbsp butter
0.5 cup of Hot Milk
0.5 cups of uncoagulated Blood of Choice
2 Tablespoons of Sugar
2 Tablespoon of Butter
Salt & Pepper to Taste
How to Cook:
and finely chop potatoes.
2. Add to pot and began cooking in water till soft.
3. Pour in Milk & Blood. Mash them into the potato.
4.Peel apples and slice thickly. Add to pot.
5. When apples brown and are soft, mash into the mixture.
6. When mixture is smooth and creamy, add butter. Season with salt and pepper.
7. Serve with fried onion, black pudding and sausages.
~~~0~~~
By the time he reached the lone house along Fjord Avenue, the downpour had increased tenfold. But he wasn't one who feared the cold.
Jack ran up to the porch, ignoring the splattering droplets overhead. He technically knew where she lived, but he had never dared visit. He was afraid that she'd invite him in, and if she did, it might open a Pandora's Box that could never be closed.
But desperate times called for desperate measures, and the boy rapped hard against the window. The lights were out. The car wasn't there. But he had to hope against hope that somehow, someone would be home.
"Hello!" he yelled against the doorframe. He tried to peer between the curtains and behind the screen, but all that greeted him was black. He glanced down to the soaked screen of his watch. No matter how the sky looked, it was hardly night yet. But there was an eeriness about the storm raging above. Something…unnatural about it.
Something dangerous.
He intended to dash back the road that he came, but as he hurried down the slippery wet gravel, he found himself drawing to a halt.
There, where he had left it several days ago, was his motorbike, buried under the fallen brambles from a nearby birch. In the madness that surrounded him recently, he had utterly forgotten to collect the vehicle. Indeed, it was a wonder that the police hadn't uncovered it.
He lifted the sodden vehicle from its muddy prison, brushing off leaves the best he could. The keys he found at the locked trunk, as he had left it. It was all too easy to hop onto the leather seat and ignite the engine. He might travel faster on foot, but a motorcycle would draw less attention if anyone should see him, as unlikely as that was in this weather.
The cruiser shot like an arrow through the night, zipping through the rain so quick that barely a drop fell on his head. With one hand, he shaded his eyes, seeking out anything that was worth his notice.
So intent was he on this mission that he had scarcely noticed the car wreck that had appeared in the middle on the road.
But Jack did eventually notice it, and the tyres screeched against the stones as the bike pulled to a halt. The sedan was overturned. The windows were cracked. The front of the car was n smashed so completely that its parts were spilled out on to the ground. As he took a step towards it, he realised he could smell blood. Human blood.
He took a step back.
The rain diluted the scent, so it wasn't so overwhelming, but he didn't know if the risk of helping the individual was going to be worth the risk that his own appetite posed. Biting his lip, the boy retreated further, his hand going for the phone buried in his back pocket. He'd call for an ambulance, then leave. He'd have done all he could.
Just as he was about to hit the emergency numbers, he froze.
There in the rubble lay a cracked phone, its shattered screen still alight for some reason. He reached out, lifting it out from the puddle that it had ungracefully descend into. There, he saw on the lock screen an image of a school timetable. When he flipped the phone around, he saw a small polaroid of two sisters, one grinning enthusiastically while the other looking prim. As she always did.
He didn't even need to think before diving down next to the inverted car, staring through the smashed window, her name on his lips.
But it wasn't Elsa. Instead, it was just a bald fellow in his early fifties. His head was lolled back loosely, but he was still breathing, if those uneasy wheezes were anything to go by. His head was bruised, and bloodied too. Jack immediately drew back and slammed a hand over his mouth. Good thing he had fed before going on this crazy mission.
Slinking back into the safety of the downpour, Jack noticed that the damaged phone in his hand had blacked out, perhaps due to the damp, or maybe the device was really beyond repair. He hadn't the heart to cast it away though, since it was hers, ruined or not.
As he dialled for 911, he went to check the other end of the car. Maybe what it would give him some clue as to what happened to her.
"Medical Emergency, 231," a calm voice on the other end answered. "What are you reporting?"
He surveyed the wreckage with distaste as he circled. "Erm, hi, there's been a car accident on the road towards Fjord Avenue. A gentleman is trapped in it, and he's injured and-" he broke off.
"Sorry, can you confirm the location again?"
Jack didn't respond, because his attentions had been swallowed completely by the scene before him
"Sir, are you there?"
The car door had been ripped from its original position, and had been roughly crunched up in a ball, like it was nothing more than paper. The chair that had been next to driver one was sitting out on the road, tipped over. The seatbelt had been ripped out, not unbuckled. There was a trail of shrapnel that led into the forest.
"Sir?"
Snapping back to awareness, he finally managed to get out, "Err, yep. Um, between the Drawer Junction and Fjord Avenue. That road down there." He began trekking into the woods, ignoring how the mud squelched beneath his feet, ignoring how the bits of leaves and wood clung to his wet skin when he passed the trees.
"If you tell me what happened, that would be great."
He stared out into the endless rows of trees, into the black of night. There's no trace of her, and in the damp, there's no chance that he'll catch her scent, even if he were the finest of werewolves.
His voice was hoarse as he admitted, "I don't know."
~~~0~~~
She awoken with a startled gasp.
She was utterly soaked to skin, and the cold marble against her back was doing no favour to keep her body heat in. She shivered as she sat herself upright, clutching her arms tightly around her.
"I forget how fragile humans are. So susceptible to the forces of nature," a cool voice came from behind her.
Elsa whipped about, her wet braid flying back as she did. He was there, the mysterious gentleman, the murderer of her parents, the plague of her nightmares.
Pitch Black.
She leapt to her feet, intending to flee, but her knees buckled instead. She was saved from an undignified collapse by his strong grip, but the biting of his claw-like fingers into her flesh made her wish he had let her go.
"Oh, but my dear Elsa,-" his bright eyes seemed to glow despite the shadowy surroundings. "But haven't I told you before? I'll never let you go."
A queasy sensation rose from the pit of her stomach and she drew away. He let her, but the smug glint in his gaze indicated that her small defiance was nothing he couldn't afford.
She pushed her braid behind her, pulling her sodden gloves up her skin. Not daring to look him in the eyes, the girl asked quietly, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Precisely for that," he told her in a rather conversational manner. "You've been alone too long. As have I. There's no reason why we can't benefit from each other's company."
In the non-existent lighting, she didn't know how she could see, but she could. Well, not perfectly, but enough to tell that he was once again in his dark trench coat, along with his flat-topped hat. It struck her more than ever that his garments were distinctly of a different time, and perhaps a different universe all together.
Yet, she would not submit to curiosity, would not ask him from his tragic tale or his victorious narratives. She only asked through gritted teeth, "You're the one who forced me to be alone. Everything, from the death of my parents, to the marks on my hand, to everyone thinking that I'm crazy-"
"I was merely displaying to you the truth of mortal living," he answered indifferently, even a little patronising. "You needed your eyes to be opened before you could flourish into the fullness of a woman." His bony hands suddenly shoot forward, grabbing her chin and forcing her to face him. His angular features had never seemed so hard, so cruel. His grin was enough to trigger shudder. "And you have. So bold, so fiery."
She ripped herself away from him, shooting a deathly glare but that only seemed to amuse him more. From the very air itself, he seemed to have pluck out a flowing cloak, again one that seemed out from the medieval times. Without asking for permission, he draped it over her shoulders. She watched him with great wariness, face hard even though her freezing form appreciated the warmth of the garment.
He proffered an arm towards her. "Would you walk me?" It wasn't really a question.
Gulping down her fear, she hooked a trembling arm in his, letting him lead her deeper into the derelict abyss.
The surroundings were unfamiliar to her, and she doubted that they were anywhere near Burgess. The architecture was ancient, consisting vaulted ceilings and stone pillars, carved reliefs and chiselled sculptures. Much of it was already falling apart, leaving large gaps in the walls and stacks of debris in along the cobbled path. The only light came from the torches that lined the rubble-strewn corridor. Even then, the flickering yellow granted little sight, permeating a greater sense of foreboding in this place.
"Where are we?" she finally managed to croak out. Her throat was dry from the terror that she had hoped to suppress. She hoped that he couldn't smell fear.
"A shrine of sorts," was his placid answer. "To a religion even older than your first of ancestors." The skeleton of his hand flicked vaguely towards the shattered idol by his feet.
Whilst the body was already smashed to dust, the head was intact. The gnarled features of the monsterscowled at her, bearing its fanged jaws towards her. Behind it was an elaborated mural, colours faded but still noticeable. There was the fanged creature, with its gnarled face attached to a human body. It had a foot over a fallen man, whose neck had been cut open and blood was pooled around him.
Subconsciously, she found herself pressing against the vile companion. It was only after she heard his raspy chuckle that Elsa noticed her own actions, and distanced herself once again.
"You needn't fear," her ghoulish kidnapper assured her. "There's very little in this world that can hope to defeat me."
"I'm sure," was the girl's sour reply. Now that her gait has steadied, Elsa detached her hands from him, wrapping them around her elbows instead. "What do you want from me?"
He didn't look at her when he delivered his reply. "You already know."
"I can assure you most certainly that I don't.
A mirthless chuckle departed hi tips, bloodless lips. "Think harder."
She did, and the corners of her lip took a downward turn. "I'm not marrying you."
"Oh?"
"On top of being a weird, creepy-" she made a vague gesture at him "-whatever, you killed my parents. On what dimension did you think I'd want to marry you?"
The smile that he gave her was indulgent, as if she were but a fussing child. "You know, I don't need your permission." He cast a mocking smirk. "You honestly think I couldn't have forced you be my bride on that very night we met?"
An unwanted tremor shot up her spine as her imagination seeped into memory. In her mind's eye, she saw her thirteen-year-old self, traumatised and terrified. The nails were biting so thoroughly in her skin that it was a wonder that she hadn't bled from it.
"You're fortunate that I'm looking for a queen, not a bride," he continued on, deliberately not noting the pallor of her expression. "I was willing to wait if that meant that your mind and body would grow in greater strength - only then would I claim you."
She would have cursed at him with all the curses that she knew but had never uttered, had hit him with a strength that she had possessed but never used. But she couldn't move a muscle against him. There was a throbbing sensation on along her neck and wrist, and somehow that was enough to keep her walking silently beside him.
He seemed to have detected her desire for resistance, for he then took up her left arm. Without asking, he pulled against the drenched glove covering it, revealing her scar-ridden flesh. He turned it slowly around, his cold fingers running against the old cuts that she had made once, and then to the puncture marks near her pulse.
"It's a simple trick, really," he told her in a wry fashion. "Just a bit of your blood, and I would know your every step, your every word, your every breath. I had waited so long to find a worthy she, and I would not lose her so easily." He planted a kiss on the scar, and there was no way she could suppress the sickened feeling whirling within her. "That way, I would know when she was ready to claimed once more."
"And when's that?" Elsa found herself asking, not entirely of her own volition.
He smirked mysteriously as he rubbed the side of his thumb against her lip. At that moment, her memories had reeled to more recent times, in the shadows of a movie theatre where she had her first kiss.
She gasped.
"I should perhaps send Jack Frost a gift." His amusement only grew by her horrified expression. "He did, after all, prepare you for me."
Elsa wanted to ask him what he meant by that, or how he knew Jack. But her tongue could not be found when he forcibly hooked her arm with his, pulling her down the crumbling corridor once more.
The dark walkway had widened up, leading to a large circular vault. In its centre was an elevated platform, with steps circling it. He led her up towards it, to the circular fountain that stood there. Its sides were overflowing, so streams of water came pouring down the steps like a gentle blanket.
"You don't understand me, of course. Mortals' knowledge of my kind is severely in want," he told her. "But even you must realise that I hold great power, nothing like man has ever seen. My will stirs in the very core of the universe, and it listens to me."
Elsa barely noticed how soaked her shoes are, for her mind was wrestling with a far greater issues. She tried to move her arms, kick up her legs, anything, but she couldn't. Her body just calmly continued to link arms with this dangerous, crazy creature, as if this were a leisurely stroll in the park.
"You don't realise it, but this is your grand purpose. The meaning of your existence. This power I have, I'm offering to share it with you"
They stopped when they reached the foot of the fountain, and he angled her head towards the dome ceiling. There above lay elaborated inscribed shapes, spaced apart. Her eyes widened when she realised that an ancient map of the entire world. There in its centre was the fanged head against, sneering down at her. Its mouth seemed to be wet, and indeed it was dripping into the fountain.
"You told me that you want to change the world. As a mere mortal girl, you never will. But as the Queen of the Nosferatu,-" she felt his breath against her ear "-there'll be nothing you wouldn't be able to accomplish."
"I won't be able to bring my parents back." She suddenly felt her voice return to her, and boy, it was good to note his startled expression. She injected a measure of taunt when she added viciously, "I don't think even you can do that."
Though thrown off momentarily, her dark captor quickly regain his composure. He pulled her head back down so that she had to face his grey-toned skin. "Perhaps I am no good reviving the dead," he admitted. "But there are those of the living that I can save. Those precious to you."
"Kai?" Her thoughts go back to her guardian, who had been driving the car. Now with her mind clearer, she knew that if the car had been flipped, he must have badly injured.
The ruthless monster that was her host barked a sharp laugh. "Your guardian is likely to have survived the ordeal. Not in the best shape, perhaps, but nothing that your mortal medicines cannot fix. No." He shook his head as a sinister grin appeared on his lips. "Perhaps you should examine what is right under your nose."
Puzzled by this statement, she glanced incidentally down, and saw what he meant. There, lying completely submerged in the fountain basin was her unmoving sister.
"Anna!" Her hand reached out towards the prone form, only be held back by his iron grip. She writhed against his hold, but for all the slenderness of his form, it was like fighting a brick wall.
"You move her from the water and she will surely die."
Confused and afraid, the blonde girl ripped her arms from him. Clutching the cloak around her, she demanded, "What did you do?"
"Stop her from dying, apparently." He held out a plastic cup towards her, one of those transparent coffee kinds. Where he had kept it, she didn't know. "Poisoned, and very well. There's almost no trace of it. You're lucky I like those woods."
Elsa stared down at the half-empty cup, which 'ANNA' scrawled evenly on the side. Double-choc mocha. That sounded like her sister, alright.
"Am I'm supposed to believe that you have nothing to do with?" she inquired with a raised brow.
He snorted. "Please. Poison ruins the blood."
The girl bit her lip as her gaze shifted to the unmoving form beneath the waters, which themselves must have some kind of – dare she say it? – magic, if they're keeping Anna alive. Slowly, Elsa lowered her hand into the basin, a unusual heat meeting her skin when the liquid enveloped her. She wrapped the hand around her sister's limp one, and squeezes it. Anna didn't respond. Her expression was one of peaceful slumber. There was no sign of suffering, but that didn't mean that she wasn't dying on the inside.
"Is there an antidote, or some kind of treatment?" Elsa's voice was soft.
"Not exactly. These kind of poisons are too old to be cured by modern medicine" His cunning expression was reflected off the surface of the basin. "But…"
"But what?"
"It is possible that she be cured by, perhaps, the blood of the Nosferatu, especially those of royal lineage."
She blinked.
"Of which I am one," he added rather plaintively, in case the hint wasn't obvious enough.
"I got that." The girl frowned at him. "But that would make her vampire, wouldn't it?"
"Not if I don't drink her blood."
Elsa's forehead creased. "Well, then why would you help her? There's nothing in it for you."
"Oh, I can assure you that I'm no altruist." His chuckle was dark. "But perhaps I could be persuaded."
The meaning of his statement bore so heavily down on her that she staggered back, almost tripping on the steps.
"I leave the choice to you, of course," her dark companion said, as if his offer was truly generous. "But you must ask yourself, really – how prepared are you to watch your sister die?"
~~~0~~~
About ten minutes after he had called, the ambulance was seen driving to the site. He then ascended his motorbike and took off into the woods. If they saw him there, they'd hold him back for questioning and he had other urgent matters to attend to.
So Jack dove into the woods, braving the rain, the forestry and the dark. Well, the dark wasn't such an issue, since his night vision was pretty solid, but just because you could see into the dark didn't mean that you didn't fear it.
He wasn't sure what he was looking for – at least, until he found a scrap of metal on one of the branches. Veering the bike that way, his eyes searched for any other sights on the ground – footprints, broken shrubbery, disturbed leaves. He scanned the craggy stones on the uneven floor. He peered behind the curtains of leaves. He went in circles just to check again and again, but there were no more clues to be found.
Drawing his bike to halt under a swaying oak, Jack bit his lips even as the rain continue to soak him to the skin. He pushed back the damp white locks gazing frustratedly around for the sign of a shifting shadow, or a mournful wailing, or anything.
But all he had was rain, trees, and more rain.
'WOOT! WOOT!'
The sound startled him so much that he was knocked back from the bike. As the vehicle too collapsed to the ground quite ungracefully, Jack was greeted by the disapproving eyes of an owl, perched on one of the branches above. The bird didn't flinch under the returning stare from the lanky intruder, merely spreading its wings open and zooming away, vanishing into the dark. Groaning as he pushed himself back to feet, it occurred to the boy that he had been looking around him for clues, but he hadn't looked up.
His head tipped backwards.
The trail of destruction was fairly obvious. An entire line of broken branches hung above him, dripping wet and looking very sorry indeed. With this new lead, he abandoned the bike, since navigating it whilst staring up would be quite ridiculous. He did walk into a couple of trees, but he shook it off as he hastily resumed his trek, glancing up every so often.
The trail of broken branches came to an abrupt close when his feet became damp. Glancing down, he realised that he was in fact ankle-deep in some kind of pond.
Well, not pond, more like…lake.
Hastily, Jack leapt back to shore, his breaths short and his body trembling. He gulped as he peered at the rippled surface of the water. His throat tightened at the memory of the watery grave that had once been his.
True, the water could not hurt his body anymore, but his mind was a different story.
He decided to circle the lake instead, searching for any other clues that could have indicated the path that his target had gone. But there were no more broken tree branches, high or low, anywhere around. No fprints indicated travel on foot. It was a dead end.
The sky at last decided to pity him and the rain let up. His sodden shoes he had stripped and began twisting in his hands, letting it drip on the soil below him as he ransacked his brain.
He found his gaze drifting to the waters once more, which had stilled considerably now that it wasn't being persistently attacked from on high. The moon, full and yellow, could vaguely recognised on its surface.
Suddenly, his gaze flit from the broken branches, then to the moon, then back down to the lake. He couldn't help but feel that there was something strange about the water.
He took a step forward and -
- was abruptly knocked off his feet. Before Jack could every yelp, he felt sharp incisors sink into his neck.
The speed by which he was rendered unconscious was pretty embarrassing.
~~~0~~~
Shuba (by North)
What You Need:
0.25 cup of Herring Fillet in oil
2 large washed Beetroots
2 large washed Potatoes
3 large washed Carrots
3 large hard-boiled eggs,
0.75 cups of chicken blood
0.25 cups of mayonnaise
4 diced green scallions
2 tablespoons hot mustard
3 teaspoons salt
Instructions:
1) Heat beetroots in pot of salted water. Remove when tender.
2) Heat Potatoes and Carrots in separate pot of salted water. Remove when tender
3) Let vegetable cool. Meanwhile, peel boiled eggs and chop finely.
4) Grate potatoes, carrots and beets into separate containers.
5) Dice herring in separate bowl.
6) Mix blood, mayonnaise and mustard in another bowl.
7) Add 1/3 of spread Add 1/3 cup of spread to grated beets and 1 teaspoon salt.
8) Add 2 teaspoons salt to spotatoes, carrots and eggs.
9) Salad is assembled in a loaf pan, lined with baking paper. Beet are first, followed by blood mix, then carrots, eggs and, blood mix, scallions, potatoes, rest of spread, then herring.
10) Refrigerate for 30 minutes.
11) Invert on serving plate and serve.
~~~0~~~
When Anna awoke, she felt incredibly well-rested.
She sat herself up slowly, blinking away the remaining drowsiness and found her body astonishing invigorated. The morning light pouring through the curtains indicated that she was probably late for class. Yet, somehow this wasn't her primary concern.
One of her hands went up to her throat as she scrambled for her memories, where her head was swimming and her chest was heaving, and there in the background, his indifference face just watched it all…
The door of the bedroom creaked open and she jumped. It was Elsa. Her braid had been tied back neatly and she was dressed in a loose, white dress that seemed a bit too formal for home. How long had she been up?
"I already called the school," her elder sister said with an unreadable expression, kicking the door shut with the back of her heel. "You're apparently having food poisoning."
"I am?" Anna blinked. She did recall feeling really queasy, and for some reason, also betrayed?
"We'll see." Elsa sat down on the bed next to her, her two gloved hands holding out a tray. "Breakfast?"
Oatmeal was probably on the bottom of Anna's dream breakfast list, but for some reason, she finished the bowl without any hesitation. Perhaps it was because it had been ages since her sister had done anything like that for her, and she wanted her to feel appreciated. Or maybe she just felt really, really hungry.
After when she had set the bowl down on the nearby study table, she realised that Elsa had been staring at her. Quite intently, in fact.
"Is something wrong?" the brunette girl asked.
Elsa cleared her throat, eyes flitting away. "Kai's in hospital. Car accident." On seeing her alarmed expression - "The doctor says he'll make it through, but he's still unconscious."
"Oh." Anna sunk back into the wall framing her bed. Kai had been such a permanent fixture in their lives that she had never imagined that anything could happen to him. But then again, she had once thought that of their parents.
"I was thinking of visiting him. Just be there for a while, you know." That explained the clothes, though the formality did seem a tad unnecessary for a comatose person. "You wanna come?"
"Yeah, of course." The girl hastily slipped on her shoes, before darting towards the closet. She browsed quickly through her various dresses. It's a welcome distraction to the distressing news, and the strange edginess that she felt.
The journey to the hospital had a quiet, long one due to the distance. Moreover, the shuttle that they had waited for only came every hour. Anna used all the time to contemplate what exactly occurred between the moment she had ended school the day before and the time she had woken up today.
There were certain memories – terrifying memories – that bothered her immensely. She had been pretty sure that she had been choking on something. Han had been there, his lovely red locks and his dreamy emerald eyes, but his expression had been cold. So frostily cold, and it had shocked her, because he was one of the warmest people she knew. She also knew that she had been in the forest, and also some place wet, but … if that was all true, then how did she wake up in her bed?
"Is something wrong?" Elsa asked her, a burst of concern that was pretty unusual. "Are you feeling alright?"
She considered sharing this - dream? memory? – with her sister, but considering that how ridiculous it all sounded, and the pinched expression on Elsa's face, she decided not to add this burden to those on her sister's shoulders.
Anna shook her head.
The relief that washed on her sister's face was remarkably obvious, which the younger Arendelle girl couldn't help but think was a little weird.
After they reached the hospital, she filed these thoughts away and focused on her warded guardian. Poor Kai was in bad shape, and no matter how many times the doctors assured them that he was stable, Anna couldn't help but feel rather worried. When would he be back with them? Would he be the same? How did this accident happen?
Her sister was however the pinnacle of self-control, taking the doctor's explanation with a firm nod and answering question with the steady voice. For all the times she complained of her rigidity, it was nice to have a mast in storms like these.
As they were picking at their meagre meals down in the hospital canteen, Elsa suddenly said, "You wanna go hang out somewhere else?"
Anna was admittedly caught off guard by this suggestion. "What?"
"Kai's going to heal, whether we're here or not. Since we're both technically sick, we're not going to school," her sister elucidated. "So, you wanna hang out anywhere?"
It took her about five minutes to figure out that Elsa was perfectly serious. It only took her a minute to set the itinerary, because when it came to hanging out, Anna always had an itinerary.
The first place they did was travel down to her favourite diner for a proper meal. Elsa paid for the taxi, which was an usually extravagant gesture, but her reasoning was that they wanted to reach the place before they closed for lunch. Even then, the ride was quite a while, but as they say, nothing whets an appetite as well as hunger.
After they entered Oaken's Diner, it was impossible not to note the hint of wariness in her elder sister's eyes. After all, this was a very same place where she may have been – cough- tricked into a date with Jack F. Guardian. But hey, it turned out well. For a while. Before all the crazy happened and stuff.
Anna ordered them both large chocolate milkshakes, and a 10-inch pizza to share, because both of them loved chocolate and, well, she loved pizza. Being a growing girl with a hearty appetite, she had no issue wolfing down most while Elsa nibbled on neat little pieces. Few words were exchanged, but there was comfort in the silence too, a feeling that the younger girl admittedly was unfamiliar with.
The peaceful meal was briefly interrupted however when Elsa excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned, her face was pale and she refused to touch her milkshake again. Not being one to waste a good drink, Anna happily downed the rest.
The next place they went was the park. It wasn't a very big place, but in the afternoon, it was generally empty. They went down to see the lake and Anna may or may not have petted a couple of duckling by the shore side, after which Elsa insisted she washed her hands. They went to look at the flowers that were currently in bloom, and read the explanation boards for those that weren't. Conversation was sparse, but there wasn't really a need for it. Both of them just allowed themselves to enjoy the sounds of nature and the light of the Sun – well, at least until Elsa complained that the heat was getting unbearable.
They decided to go the local bookstore afterwards, as way of appeasing Elsa's sensibilities. Anna of course browsed through the latest romance novels, then flitted through the books that were romance novels disguised as teen dystopia. Her sister taste was more towards the historical and non-fiction, but for some reason, she seemed to have spent quite a bit of time under the mythology section. When asked, Elsa just shrugged.
The last place they went was the art gallery. It was getting a bit late, and by right, the Gallery would be closed. Except that it was a Friday, and on Fridays, the Museum extended its closing time till eight.
Elsa hadn't seemed very keen to go, which was odd, because Anna figured she would be more into the artsy stuff that her, and it was a very good collection. A little pleading was all it took, and soon they were outside the old colonial building. Anna spent most of time flitting through each of the pictures, making up stories for all of them and giggling to herself every now and then. Her sister chose to linger in the galleries of the permanent collection, and for some reason she kept staring at one rather horrid-looking one. It was like the artist had really bad hangover and just decided to puke on the canvas. Ghastly stuff.
Eventually, closing time did come, and both of them made their way home. Well, this time Anna got them an Uber, and Elsa promised to compensate her for the expense. When they arrived home, they were ravenous since they did forget to have dinner. So Elsa decided to cook them some ramen with cheese, which was a unhealthy, quick meal that Anna took too much delight from. Only after finishing most of it, however, did she notice that the portion that Elsa had granted herself was significantly smaller than her own.
"I'm not hungry," was all the blonde gave as an explanation.
After washing-up, Anna was heading up the stairs when she noticed that Elsa wasn't following. Instead, she was fixated on the various photographs that were hung along the corridor. Some were of themselves when they were little. Others were those with their parents. There were a couple more recent ones of themselves with Kai, on holidays, graduations and so forth.
Elsa's gaze shifted briefly to her, then back to pictures. "I'll be down here for a while. Don't wait up for me."
Letting out a yawn – man, food coma was hitting fast – Anna nodded. "Alright, but don't forget to switch off the lights later."
"I'm not the one who usually needs to be told." It might be a trick of the light, but there's a slight upward curve on the corner of Elsa's lip.
Well, Anna decided to take it as a joke that it ought to be and chuckled. "Gosh, you're such a prig sometimes."
After arriving on the second floor, Anna headed straight for her room. She set out her workbook and notes, but within half-an-hour she's already dozing off at the desk. Giving up, she decided that a tactical retreat might be order.
"Hey," she yelled down the stairs while rubbing her eyes. "I'm going to go to bed first, okay? Don't make too much noise when you come in?"
There's no answer, but that's pretty normal for Elsa. So the younger girl just ambled back to the bedroom, undid her braids and settled down on the bed. Barely had her head touched the pillow did snores rumbled from her throat.
When she awakened the next morning, a flutter of panic beat against her ribs. She opened her eyes, then remembered it was a Saturday. No school.
So she should probably go back to sleep.
Just as she was about to drift back into slumberland, she noted the blurred form of sister on the bed across hers. Elsa's body had been curled in a tight fetal position, back facing out. Her hair was still twisted in braid, and was lying rather awkwardly off the pillow. The blankets had been wrapped tightly around her, almost completely covering her head.
Rubbing her eyes, Anna rose to her feet. She forced her drowsy self to walk to the other end of the room, calling softly, "Elsa?"
As she got nearer, however, she realised that her sister's eyes were wide open.
"Elsa?"
Her sister didn't respond, just staring unblinkingly into the white void of the wall.
She reached a hand forward to the forehead covered in white-gold strand, and couldn't help but notice the flinch her sister made. The back of her fingers were met with a chill. "Elsa, you're cold."
"It's nothing." The words sounded hollow. Broken.
"You should see a doctor."
"It is nothing."
The viciousness pumped into those words took the younger girl aback, and indeed, she withdrew herself from her sister. Elsa merely pulled the covers tighter around her.
Clearing her throat, Anna then timidly suggested, "You want me to make you something? Soup? Oatmeal?"
"No," was the quiet answer, followed by sigh.
"Are you sure?"
"Just go away, Anna."
Biting back her hurt, the girl settled back down on her mattress, laying her head back down. She didn't fall back asleep immediately, for she couldn't help staring into at Elsa, if only into her duvet-covered back. All the staring in the world however couldn't fill the blanks in her mind.
She did eventually drift into sleep, however, for when she opened her eyes once more, her sister's bed was already empty. The covers were gone too, and her phone. When she descended the steps, all she could hear was the laundry machine going off in the backroom, but there was no sign of Elsa anywhere.
Anna scrunched her face up in worry, and wondered where that odd rust smell was coming from.
~~~0~~~
How sweetly adorn was the virgin bride, clothed in nothing but white – a symbol of her purity. How elegantly draped was her veil upon her fair head, just shielding the fear in her eyes. The tears upon her cheeks glistened like pearls in the moonlight. How pretty were the slender palms pressed into the palms of her intended, and even the voice that trembled still sounded sweet as it recited,
"Flesh of thy flesh, and blood of thy blood."
How charming was the regal groom, clothed in nothing but black – a symbol of his evil. How refined was the hat set upon his head, just shielding the lust in his eyes. The dark grin he flashed would be enough to snap the bones of bravest men. How cruel were his talon-sharp fingers as they curved the young head towards him, digging into themselves chin, as he spoke,
"Flesh of my flesh, and blood of my blood."
As he spoke the words, his fingers tore open a wound in his neck, just under his jaw.
The taste of hot blood was new upon her tongue, but there was no time to contemplate its texture and flavours when it flows too quickly down her throat. She choked when the smell first hit her, nausea slamming hard against her stomach. But his grip would not let her go and if she didn't swallow, she'd suffocate. So she drank the thick, viscous liquid. Her mouth felt like it was burning, and soon, her body did too. Her head felt both heavy and light. She felt if she did not drink, she would die.
Eventually, his grip on her loosened, and he drew her back. She had to resist the urge to lick her lips, where the crimson liquid still dribbled down. He rubbed it away with uncharacteristic gentleness, admiring how his own blood stained her mouth. But that was a mere second before his head launched forward and his fangs sank into her neck.
She found herself frozen in the moment, unable to resist as he feasted. Her body folded into him, welcoming him. Even her mind bore no rebellion, despite the screams at the back of her head crying NONONONONONONONONO!
Her limbs felt weak and her heart faint. It was only him that kept her on her feet now, and even then, just barely. Her eyelids were fluttering shut and the tears that leaked from them were all that reminded her of the bitter turn her life had taken. And somewhere, in the furthest recesses of her consciousness was suburban house with the 2.5 kids and a certain white-haired figure…
But that too was ripped from her as he tore himself from her neck, his fangs dripping red and his chin murderously smeared. No permission was asked he greedily pressed his bloodied mouth against her own, and indeed it wasn't as if she wouldn't let him anymore. From her lips now, he drew her innocence, her will and her freedom, and in doing so, doomed her soul forever.
The ring was slipped upon her hand of her scarred wrist as the stars and shadows observed, binding them in unholy matrimony, for all eternity.
~~~0~~~
And that's the end, folks! That's it! Goodbye.
It was great having you all read this, and I want to thank all my loyal readers. I'm sorry that I haven't been the most consistent author, and for dragging you along the strings by pretending this was gonna be a happy Teen Vampire story, but it was never gonna be. I watched too many Hitchcock films. I'm tired of writing this, so Deux Ex Machina solves everything. Okay, I haven't solved everything, even with Deux Ex Machina, because I'm too lazy, but really guys, I have so many stories to write and life to live, so clearly I'm gonna cut some things down.
So, love you all! Bye!
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KIDDING!
I mean, I don't really love you guys at all. Please. I'm a self-centred, selfish jerk.
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HAPPY MARCH FOOL'S!
Why March Fools'? Because by 1 April I'll too busy to write anything, so I decided to mess with people earlier than usual. If you haven't realised, I have a tradition of writing an April's Fool Chappie somewhere… but you know…laziness prevails.
Though honestly, I'm sure a couple of you have deleted this from your Favorites list already. Oopsies. *Wince*
Okay, so if you haven't got it: No, this story is not finished. No, this story is not abandoned in the slightest (I like Gothic horror too much). Yes, there is a chance for a happy ending (but don't count on it. When it comes to the Swan Lake ballet, there are two parties – those who like it when Odette and Prince live happily ever after, or those who like it when Odette dies of heartbreak and the Prince lives with heartbreak. I belong to the latter party.)
But basically, all this longwindedness is to tell you I won't be replying reviews anymore, due to my really busy schedule. It's something that I really enjoy, honestly, and I'm said to let it go, but I keep forgetting nowadays and most of you end up receiving months later when you forgot what you reviewed, so this makes the most sense. Then again, let it be known that I really like reading reviews, so if you wanna leave some, know that it's cherished and appreciated. An author always likes to know if someone likes their work.
Ciao for now!