To my wonderful sis-mom Juliet. We both know what it means to have shitty roommates.
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)
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Scotland - 1744
Damon stopped. His last words hung in the air, the last scene played again in Shannon's mind. Two dark haired boys fighting to the death over a woman neither of them could have. They had killed each other.
Shannon shook the image from her head and looked at Damon who was looking at her with dark eyes. "I don't believe it," she said to him. She shook her head again, hard enough to make her loose dark hair fly around her shoulders, "Everything you said was not impossible, but some of it was. I don't know why you had to twist such an awful story further, but if you were trying to impress me or..... or.... it just isn't the truth."
Damon looked at her silently for just a moment longer and then stood, looking out over the glen which was now glazed in a purple light, the stars just beginning to make pin pricks of light on the horizen. "The moon rises, and your family will be expecting you for dinner... and," he looked over his shoulder at her, his mouth curved in a wicked smile, "I need to find my own dinner. Your cousin, Gretchen, was a tasty snack, maybe I should seek her out? What do you think Shannon?"
"You will not!" She stood, her skirts not slowing her approach on him. If he had even dared lay a finger on her cousin and drink....
His voice interuppted her, "I thought you didn't believe my story?" His voice was smug, he had received the reaction he had wanted from her. Now he waited for her explaination.
Instead of explaining herself, Shannon went to the horse and loosened the hobble, looping the rope around the horn of the saddle. She pulled herself up into the saddle, not waiting for Damon to hold her stirrups or give her a boost. She sat tall and proud in the saddle, giving off the air that she needn't impress or explain herself to anyone. "We are missing dinner, and my father will worry. I ask you to return with me, but if you don't...." She shrugged. "If you don't, just stay away from my cousin." She steered the horse and didn't look back until she reached the crest of the hill. The scene below made her strain her eyes, Damon was nowhere in sight. He had vanished into thin air, one may say.
A sharp "caw" made her look up to where the moon was urging itself into the night sky. A crow rose and flew towards the stables. Crows were supersitious birds, bad omens. If Shannon believed in that, which she didn't, she might of taken it as a sign. She kicked her horse's sides and urged it into a slow canter towards the house.
Toby was sitting outside the Drake estate when Shannon walked up through the courtyard. She had been gone for a very long time, since late afternoon. Her hair was loose and tangled from riding and her skirt dusty. She approached alone, her chin was high. She always walked like that when she was upset about something. If no one else could tell, Toby could. He had practically been raised with her.
He stood and bowed at the waist, as was custom when one of the immediate Drake clan members approached, "Lady Shannon." He waited a moment until one of the other servants, a cook maid, retreated into the kitchen. "Where the hell have ye been? I was worried sick, when ye didna show up for dinner." He resisted the very strong urge to grab her arm and shake her. He had been worried, that was true, but he had seen her on the horse with Salvatore, which did more than just worry him.
Shannon's eyes narrowed, but she shrugged lightly and looked away. "I went for a ride with Damon and we lost track of time. Have you seen him? Not that it matters."
"I bet it doesn't."
Shannon sighed, "Look Toby, I don't have the patience to be arguing with you. I understand that you were worried, and I'm sorry I worried you, but it was really nothing to worry about. I'm not interested in liars, or people who make up fanciful stories to impress people. Damon is both and ... you don't have to worry." She smiled and took his hand, giving it a squeeze and asked with an air of mischief in her voice, "What did Gretel say when she noticed neither Damon or I was at dinner? I bet she had a fit."
He couldn't help but smile at her, she was lovely when she smiled, and her hair bounced along with her body when she got excited. "She asked everyone where you were. I told her you and Damon had ridden off towards the Loch together, and she dinna like that much." He rubbed his right cheek, where Gretchen had slapped him sharply. "She slapped me." He laughed, afterall the facial reaction of Gretchen was worth a thousand slaps.
Shannon's hand went to Toby's and pulled it away from his cheek. She smiled at him, and stroked his wounded cheek lightly. "She hasn't seen me yet. How about I don't sleep in my bed tonight. I can come in tomorrow morning. See what she says about that, aye?"
His eyes darkened, brown sweeping into darker shades. "I think it will be a great joke. I say that is what the lass gets for slapping me."
"And for teasing me with Damon." She nodded, lowered her hand from his cheek and took up his hand. Turning, she lead Toby with her to the stables, where she would spend the night.
From above the courtyard, a window held the figure of Gretchen Drake. Blond hair pulled into a braid, blue eyes snapping in disgust and annoyance. She had watched as Shannon walked across the courtyard alone, and as she had talked to Toby. Then her eyes had narrowed with intrest and a little more disgust. Shannon was leading Toby by the hand, out of the courtyard. To the stables? Or to some covered nook in the glen? Her cousin, the "honorable" Shannon Drake was no more than a common whore. First pushing herself on a guest and now their own stable hand. What would her uncle, the cheiftain of the clan, have to say about his only daughter bedding with practically anything that flew her way? And a servant of all people. Not only a servant but a dusty, smelly stable boy. Well, Gretchen thought with a smile, if her father, Lord Drake, wasn't all too upset, she was sure Damon Salvatore would be.
Damon paced. He walked the confines of his room numorous times, before stopping in front of the mirror. Dark eyes stared back at him. His eyes skimmed over his pale features, and his tousled hair. His eyes met the mirror's again and he pulled back.
He had never told his story to anyone before, and there was more to tell, but first he had to make her believe. Believe that vampires were real, that they existed in the same world as mortals did, and that he, Damon Salvatore, was a vampire. The story was all true. His brother was still "alive" and roaming the Italy, which he had failed to leave even after his death. Stefan was still in Italy, and Damon had made it clear to him that if he ever saw Stefan or felt his presense, that he would kill him. Kill him for good, there would not be a third chance for Stefan Salvatore if Damon got his hands... and teeth... on him.
Katherine was very much real. She still lived in his heart, and her name... the thoughts of her made a slowly dulling pain pound near his heart. A pain he would not admit to anyone, not even Shannon. She could assume what she liked about the short, but very real relationship he had had with Katherine von Swartzchild. Katherine was dead, killed by her own hand, burned to rank ashes in the bottom of her favorite gown. Katherine's ring had gone with Stefan. One day Damon would have the ring in his fist. But until then he was not one to wallow in the pain of the past, as Stefan seemed to do, and had done for the last 200 or so years.
He moved to the bed and lay down, his long body stretched across the red and green print cover. He curled his hands behind his head and began to think out a plan for Shannon. He had decided that there was something in the girl he wanted. Just changing her would be good for him, he decided. To show her that her denial of the vampire was foolish. His mouth curled into a smile, and he closed his eyes, letting light laughter dribble from his lips. It would almost be ironic, and he was sure she wouldn't believe anything unless he showed her. So he would show her, and it would be an emotionless act. Not entirely, no he would take pleasure in proving her wrong. And in the end? He'd think about that when it arose, when the act was done. First, though, he had to make a trip over to England. That would take several days, and if he left tonight, he could be there by mid-afternoon tomorrow.
He stood, and had to admit that one of the best perks of being a vampire was that tomorrow never died.