by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)
****
She wished she knew how it happened, but all she knew was what Damon had told her in his story of the way he died. She knew her dead body would join her family. In the ground, she thought with a sick feeling. How will I ever get past the dirt? And how will I get the coffin open? She couldn't, that was a fact. So she would have to enlist help. She also knew, from Damon's story, that she would be terribly hungry when she awoke. That she would need blood. Human blood, warm and thick.... she closed her eyes and leaned back against the doorway to Char's rooms. It was not the first time she began to wonder if she was making the right choice.
She raised a fist to knock on the door, but it opened before her fist could connect. She took and involuntary step backward. "Char," she said to a surprised Charles Dalmantia. She stepped back further when he took a step into the hallway and looked around.
"Where is Damon?" he said in his crisp English accent.
"He is down in the dining hall with my father. Discussing politics, more than likely. I came to speak with you though. Alone. This is nothing that can concern Damon," she enlisted that courtly manner and steel that she had learned over many years in the higher Drake courts. The fact was, the cold and precise manner was a facade, meant to hide her nerves which where strained to their very ends. The pit of her stomach was coated in a thick layer of ice and her hands were clammy and wet. The longer Char stood and looked at her, the more she felt like she would faint at his feet. Or run down the hall and into her bed to forget this entire matter completely.
He stepped back and gestured gallantly with an arm to the room beyond. "By all means then, my lady Shannon. Do come in."
In the end it had been a toss up between enlisting the help of Char or Toby. She had first wanted Toby's help because she knew him, trusted him to help her because his loyalty stood more with her than it did with Damon. But Toby was human, and though he may be able to dig her out of her grave and provide her with the blood she needed in order to survive, he could not come with her and show her how to survive. Char could. And although his loyalty was more to Damon than her, she trusted him to dig her out of her grave and she also was sure he would find her blood.
The only problem was convincing him to come with her.
She stepped into the room and removed her heavy maroon cloak, draping it over one of the tall backed chairs beside his bed. She then sat in that chair, resting against the plush cushion. She brushed a locke of dark hair from her eyes and behind her ear. She waited while Char made himself comfortable on the edge of his bed across from her. He looked so relaxed, she thought vaguely. He had one a crisp white shirt, long sleeves with a small collar. It was fastened across the middle with little cloth ties, and the ends were tucked into dark breeches. He waited for her to speak, his head slightly tilted to the right so that his copper hair fell long enough to brush the shoulder of his shirt. His eyes were so blue. Like... water, maybe. They reminded her of Malachy's eyes.
"I am surprised at your visit, and I do enjoy being in your company, my lady Shannon. But, is there something you wished to speak with me of? I dare say, you look as if you will be ill at any moment. Are you ill?"
"No. No, of course not." She offered a brief smile. "Tell me, Char, are you aware that Damon means to make me like him. Him and yourself, that is. A... well immortal, a vampire, if you please. I..."
"Yes I am aware, " he interrupted, "are you having second feelings about that change? You shouldn't. Damon may be irresponsible at times, but he cares for you deeply. He told me so and..." His eyes dropped to her hands, which were neatly folded in her lap to hide their presently shaky state. "And," he continued, "It appears as though he gave you a promise of those feelings. I believe," he leaned forward and gently lifted her hand away from it's mate. His fingers were long and warm, yet cool underneath. The pad of his thumb stroked over her knuckles, but his eyes examined the gold circle and blue stone on her finger. "Am I right?"
She nodded stiffly, her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she would not cry here. It was a time to be strong, not a whimpering idiot of a child. She took a breath and smiled tightly, pulling her hand out of Char's strong fingers. "Char what I have to ask you is important to me. I ask that you only question it as little as possible because I can hardly explain it to myself, much less another person. I know you and Damon are friends. Good and old friends, bound together through blood and loyalty and the Lord knows what else. I know you have no reason to risk anything for me. You just met me after all. Has Damon told you about Malachy?"
"Who?"
Shannon smiles, "I suppose he hasn't."
When Shannon was done telling him all about her dreams of Malachy, including the ending where he had told Shannon she would have to leave Damon to save her family. He was not sure if he wanted to help her. Damon would be pissed, for sure. Char grinned, maybe he could get a good fight out of this. Shannon looked distraught, she looked as if she really cared for Damon. Maybe she did. He didn't know about family, his own being dead for over two hundred years now.
"Alright, I will help you," he muttered. "Don't ask me why, I'm not sure I know why myself. I think you have a lot of guts, I'll give you that. The window, huh?" He glanced to his own window, "Long way down."
"I know," she answered flatly.
"I'm not sure if I will be there right when you wake up in the ground. You may be awake for awhile."
"I know."
Char frowned, "Give me some reactions, girl! You are going to hurl your pretty little body out a window, down to the ground. It won't feel good, but then you'll be dead. Then you are going to wake up in a wood box under piles of dirt. You'll be dying of thirst, but it won't be a thirst you can quench with wine or water. It will be a burning, dry sensation in your veins. It will make you itch and your skin crawl. And all you can say is, 'I know' like it's some damn walk in the park, picnic by the lake affair."
Shannon looked at him, "and dwelling on those facts is going to make me feel better? I know... no. I don't know what I'm in store for, but I do know you'll come and get me out. Then I can leave. Go somewhere, and start a new life for myself. Learn to hunt. You'll teach me. You'll teach me, right?"
He rolled his eyes, "I said I would. I will. I'll take care of you," he smiled, "And you'll take care of me?"
Shannon stood and patted Char on the top of his gloss copper head, "No, not like you mean. But I will help you out, if you need help. I owe you for this Char. Thank you." She turned to him before she left his room. "Now I must go tend to Damon, and tonight I will... " She shrugged.
"Don't worry about a thing Shannon, in a few days this will be all over and you shall be a creature of the night. A Queen of Darkness if you will," he grinned.
Shannon just shook her head and walked out.