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by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)
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Scotland 1744
Several months had passed since anything important happened to the Drake estate. Winter was upon them, though, and the nights stretched into bitter coldness and the snows blanketed the glen with a thick whiteness. It was the eve of the New Year that Shannon met Damon's old world friend Charles Dalmantia. He was a charming man under dressed for the court though in black lounge pants that were far to loose for him, a black shirt that all but clung to him like a second skin and a down coat, crisp despite his long journey to Scotland. He looked relaxed and at home, not at all put off by everyone else's formal dress. It was the new year and the Drake family spared no expense to see it's guests well fed, well drank and well entertained.
Two pipers pumped lung fulls of air into their bagpipes until their faces red with blood and their brows speckled in sweat, but oh how they grinned at each other between sets. They truly enjoyed playing their countries pipes, and the crowd, oh the crowd! how they cheered the to on, and cheered even louder when the fiddler joined the small band. The evening was going well with her clan dressed in their kilts and plaids and the foreigners... well there was only Damon and his friend Char who were the Outlanders in this crowd. Char had been even been referred to as a sassanach, a curse reserved for the English. But Char had not let some of her kin ruin his time, no he drank heavily from his goblet and flirted with Gretchen, who had all but forgotten Damon in Char's charming presence.
Shannon had dressed herself in one of her favorite dresses, a dark green dress that brought out her eyes. It was tight at the waist and flowed behind her an extra yard of fabric. The sleeves came to tiny points at the back of her hand, and a little loop of thread that slipped over her middle finger made the points extend down the middle of her hand. Her long black hair was done simply, just two wings at the side swept back from her face the rest was left to cascade it waves down her back to her hips. Damon looked just as extravagant, he lounged in his chair next to her at one of the long dining tables. His shoes were expensive Italian leather with points at the toes. His pants were tight to his skin and a black shirt billowed from his waist, the top two buttons undone to flash glimpses of alabaster skin when he moved just the right way. His hair was like it always was, a dark cloud of tousled mess atop his head. He never looked better, Shannon thought.
Char had introduced himself upon his arrival. He had caught Damon and Shannon walking back from their daily walk just before sunset. The wind had been calm and sweet but with a wicked bite that foreshadowed that the rest of winter would not be pleasant. Their breath had made little clouds in front of them, and Shannon couldn't of been happier. Her arms were interwoven with Damon's as they walked. His usually cool body provided just enough warmth to keep her from shivering uncontrollably. Char had been walking with his head down, hands stuffed in the pockets of one of his coats. Damon had stopped abruptly and stared down at the other man who had raised his head a moment later. "Char," he had said in that Italian accented voice, "it has been quite a long time since I saw you last in England. I had expected you here many months ago. Everything is... all right in Germany I assume."
"Yes everything is just perfect in Germany," he said to Damon, then turning his eyes on Shannon, "I was sent to harass his little brother, Stefan. I do Damon's dirty work, hello milady, I am Charles Dalmantia. Call me Char though, I would be most honored to have you use that name." He offered a charming little smirk, at which Shannon smiled back despite herself.
"It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Dalmantia, Char." She bowed her head, bending her knees slightly in a modified curtsy and leaned on Damon a little more, letting her head fall to his shoulder and gently rest there. Damon's response pleased her, as he shifted his gloved hands and gave her own a gentle squeeze.
"Yes, we are all pleased Char has come to grace us with his presence," Damon's voice held sarcasm and Shannon did not have to look up to know he rolled his eyes to match his words. "I do hope you have what I asked you to get from Stefan." He started walking down the hill to Char, and Shannon having no choice, followed.
Char matched their pace as they trekked slowly back to the castle. "Of course, it was a fun time. He was with this old hag of a man when I left him, no doubt the man is dead now. He reeked. I have what you asked for, though. It is in my bags, I left them with the stable boy. Perhaps we should stop there before we go to the castle? I will require my own room." He peeked around Damon and looked at Shannon who only smiled at him and gave him a nod.
Damon turned, and they walked to the stable. Toby was in the riding circle a thick stick in his hand, directing the horses around the circle at a slow canter, warming their cold limbs. He must of heard them approach for he turned and smiles, waved to their entourage and climbed the fence with grace and ease. When his feet hit the ground he sprung into a slow trot of his own, eagerly making his way to the group.
"Shannon, Mr. Salvatore and...." he broke off when he reached Char.
Char smiled and extended a hand, "Dalmantia, Charles. Call me Char though, never cared for the name Charles. You are?"
"Toby," Toby said, "Lord Drake's lead stable hand. Is that your horse?" He pointed to a white and brown speckled mare who was running the circle with her fellow horses, "I havena seen that one before and I ken all the horses here well."
Char nodded, "And my bags in the stable." He walked past them all and into the stable for his bags.
Toby was left standing with Damon and Shannon. His eyes trailed down to their intertwined arms and then back to Shannon's face. His eyes searched her face briefly, he ran a hand back through his length of auburn hair that was free of it's usual bindings and fell straight to just below his shoulders. "Aye... Shannon...." He walked a little away from them, turned back and motioned for Shannon to follow.
Shannon detached herself from Damon and gasped out in surprise as he moved to keep her where she was. His hands went under her cloak and pulled her to his chest, nuzzling a cold nose to her neck. She smiled and detached herself once again, letting Damon's hands fall from her and to his sides. She walked to where Toby had stopped, just on the other side of the barn, out of hearing to Damon. Actually Shannon thought Damon may be able to hear them still with his enhanced hearing, but there was no way of Toby knowing that. "What is it Toby?" She smiled up at him, and then she hugged him on pure impulse. He had been so distant lately, she had hardly spoken to him since she had become involved with Damon.
Toby's arms encircled her like a warm security blanket and his lips fell to her ear, he whispered softly, "I've missed you that is all. You never come to the stables anymore, I feel like I have not talked to you in ages." His arms tightened around her and then he stepped back releasing her back to the unforgiving winter wind. "You got what you wanted," he tilted his head in the direction Damon was standing. "How does it feel now?"
"I like it. I like him. I love him. Everything is better than I imagined Toby... I..." she bit off her words. She wanted to tell him about ... well everything, but he was hardly the person to share such things with. It was not only Damon she wanted to share with Toby, she wanted to share what Malachy had told her. She had not seen him all these months, he had remained a dormant thing in the back of her mind. Sometimes when she was just falling into sleep, hanging on the limbo of the waking world and the world of dreams she felt a flicker in her mind like a candle's flame caught in a brief wind, holding and then going out. It was Malachy. It never occurred to Shannon she may be crazy, she certainly was not, but the story and it's details may sound crazy to Toby. She dreaded him thinking she was mad.
He was waiting for her to go on patiently, "You....?" he began.
"I'm so glad we stopped by!" She flung herself back into his arms, kissed his cheek and backed up, picking up the heavy folds of her cloak, skirts and petticoats she moved away from Toby and back to Damon who had stood ever so patiently on the rise of the last hill before the Drake estate came into view. Char was by his side, a bag slung over his shoulder. "Let's go get Char situated in his room, and then we must eat I am famished. Come along." Instead of grabbing Damon's arm she walked slightly in front of them, and let the two old friends talk among themselves of times past and truth untold. They had a lot to say.
Now they were all feasting at her father's table, waiting till the clock brought in the new year. Shannon refused to let the dread settle in her gut, she reminded herself furiously that this was a time of celebration, not a time to dwell on what the future would hold.
Shannon's good cheer was brought to a quick halt as the doors to their dining room burst open and her youngest brother James burst into the room blood a thick mask on his face. The music stopped as he stumbled and fell to his knees as a band on English dragoons entered after him all dressed in their bright redcoats, buttons polished to perfection and short swords sheathed tightly at their hips.
Shannon rose quickly a hand pressed tight to her bosom, the music quickly faded behind her and the light chatter of the party goers dying. A woman screamed.
"This man," the leader of the dragoons belted out, "is guilty of treason against his country. Under the King's law that is death. Will there be any protestors on his behalf?" To protest against the law was death too, but Shannon could hardly contain herself. Her oldest brother was kneeling on their floor with blood seeping into his clothes, his reddish hair was crimson. He had been beaten, even the soles of his feet bled. She moved as to step forward, but a hand clasped down on her arm, stopping her.
Damon held her arm tightly in his super natural grip and shook his head almost invisibly.
The leader of the dragoons threw a rope around James's throat and nodded to the low lying rafters above their dining table. Two of his officers hauled James to his feet, then with utter disregard they mounted the table, stepping on plates of food, knocking over goblets of wine, till they stood with James between them in the middle of the table, visible to everyone in the room.
Tears ran down Shannon's cheeks, as they did with many in the room. Her father was across the room, his hand turning white as he gripped the hilt of his broad sword in it's sheath. He took a step forward and his voice rang out like the boom of a canon, "What has my eldest done to betray his country?"
The captain answered, "He betrayed his King, that is enough. Details are not important."
"It was not his King to betray!" Shannon shouted out, spitting her words at the captain who calmly turned and faced the red faced girl in front of him.
"Do you wish to take his place?" His eyes drifted over her thin but developed form, lingering on her bosom, skimming over her eyes and then resting on the eyes above her head. Dark eyes in a pale face. Something passed between him and the man holding the girl's arm, something he could not explain, something that terrified him. He turned sharply, his face a little paler than it had been, his heart thumping a little harder in his chest, his voice a little higher than usual when he raised a hand and ordered his officers to proceed.
James did not fight, his pride would be in not giving anyone the satisfaction of a struggle. He grunted when the thick rope of the noose bit into his neck, the officers adjusted it for no reason but to rub it into his skin, cutting it until thin lines of blood ran down his throat, over his wounded chest. The sobbing came from everywhere, but his blue eyes held his sister's green ones and it was her sobbing that seemed to stand out the most. She had a full, front and center view of what was about to happen. Quickly he caught the dark man's eyes behind her, the man who had stopped her from rushing to him when he entered the room and who still kept her from falling to the floor. Silently he pleaded, he begged than he take her from the room before this happened. To his surprise, the man held his eyes for the longest moment, then he pulled Shannon back from the table, disregarding her frantic clutches and shrieks.
He was raised till his toes barely touched the edges of the table, he fought not to fall backwards into the air, and was only given a casual push which ended it all. The rope jerked as his weight entered the equation. He did not feel his neck snap, but his last collection of the living world was the sobs of his family and court and the high shrieks of his sister.