Disclaimer: Same as last chapter.
No profit, etc.
Author: J.A.K
Rating: PG-13/R (I changed it to PG-13 because no real language or situations have made their appearance
yet.)
Author's Notes: I am sooooooooooo, soooooooooooooo sorry for taking more than two months to
update. It will never happen again. The only thing I can say in my defense is
that there were tests, writers block, other stories, and of course- the thing I
call 'The Disease' A.K.A laziness. This chapter isn't as long as I would
want it to be, but my sister desperately wanted an update and the guilt for not
posting finally took its tow. I would understand your anger, because I too hate
it when people start a story and then drop off the face of the earth... but just
bare with me. Like I said it won't happen again. I already have pages and pages
of material written for the future, I just need to figure out my transition
scenes.
Sitara: I have updated and you will find out! No- really. Thank you so much for the review and I'm delighted that I've gotten your interest.
AngelD: Was it intense? *grins* I haven't updated as soon as you'd probably have liked, but it's here!
Leopardess: Wow. I didn't mean for you to lose the ability to speak. I didn't know that I only accepted signed reviews so thanks for telling me. Keep reading!
Bruised Heart: Thanks!
Werepanther: I know. Honestly though, this fic is pulling me in so many directions that it could end up any where.
firechild: I know the rape thing was weird, but hopefully you'll continue to see what it's really all about. I love Banana Republic too- though it's really all about The Gap.
DulceAmbrosia: I will keep writing more! Thanks for the review.
faerie babe: Now there actually is another chapter. This might not be your idea of soon, but it's an update.
AnthyRose: Thanks for agreeing with me, and I hope you do keep a look out for the following updates.
Enough of my blabbering...on with the story!
#Chapter 2#
My eyes wandered heavenward. It was drizzling softly, but I knew that the wetness on my face was only partially due to the water falling from the sky.
Even though it was pitch black, I could clearly make out the silhouettes that invaded my surroundings. I briefly wondered why that was so.
At that moment, a wicked stab of lightening struck the ground, and there- I knew- was my answer.
Seconds later a powerful clap of thunder rung my ears.
Seeing the anger of the lightening, and the force with which the thunder released itself from heaven, I knew the moment should have been awesome simply because of the wild unprocessed fury of nature. The moment should have been the type that you wanted to catch in the palms of your hands, like you would with a butterfly, and in similar manner, never let it go.
But I did want to let it go. The pain that suffused my body was spoiling the moment. It was so intense that I began to lose feeling in my upper register. Numbness spread throughout my stomach and gripped it in an unrelenting wrench. I didn't know where I was or how I had gotten there, but I did know the source of my anguish- of my hurt.
I realized dimly that this was what grief felt like; real and true inconsolable grief. It was so physical in its capacity, that having a knife repeatedly shoved into my belly would be unequal in comparison.
But just like the consequences of having a knife impaling one's stomach, so were those same consequences now…because I wanted to die.
"Why?" I screamed. "Why would you do this?"
As the wind carried my voice along the depths of the damp air, I began to run.
And run.
And run.
I ran forever, trying to escape myself, but not knowing quite how to do so.
I stopped as suddenly as I had begun my flight and stared heavenward again. Uncaring of who I was addressing or what omnipotent power I was angering I began to scream again.
"Take me you idiots, take me." I started to flail my arms with an acute purpose but yet with all the helplessness of a distraught person.
"You can have me, just give him back." My knees wobbled and I sunk to the ground, but that didn't hitch the breath in my lungs. I repeated myself over and over again, as though my words were some sort of mantra.
Finally when my throat was sore and I could scream no more, I let my face fall and touch the ground. I felt the lids over my eyes become heavy, and before the darkness claimed me I whispered out a final "Give me back Kailand."
I sprung up from my bed, bathed in sweat.
It was just a dream?
I slowly slid back down, uneasy and unsure of my surroundings.
There was my teddy bear. My other doll was right next to it. The lamp was on its table next to the alarm clock.
Three O'clock in the morning, it read.
"Same time again." I muttered, willing my body to relax.
In doing so my mind unwound as well, letting a whole army of questions meander their way through my head.
Why have I been having the same dream over and over again for the last three weeks? Why do I keep waking up at exactly three o'clock in the morning after the said dreams?
Though I didn't want to let my thoughts travel in that direction, it found the destination of the most important question of all.
Who was Kailand?
***********************
"Must you do this every time we meet?" Thierry's exasperated voice traveled clearly across the expanse of his spacious living room. His mansion was located in one of the five boroughs that made up New York City, known as Queens. More specifically, the well kept quiet neighborhood the house was located was known as Forrest Hills Gardens.
"We meet because I want to meet, and don't you ever forget that." My own voice was one filled with varying threads of hostility and malice, because that was the way I liked it. It struck fear and coercion into the hearts and minds of those who heard it—and that too was the way I liked it. The only thing I didn't like was the fact that my carefully trained voice could never have its desired effect on one particular person.
That person was Thierry Descoudres.
In all other cases, except his, if not my voice, then my eyes—well to put it plainly—scared people.
That was the annoying thing about having a member of daybreak for family.
"Kailand, these are different times." His eyes bore into mine "Can we at least act like cousins for the rest of your stay."
I paced the length of the floor, watching him through narrowed eyes as he sat easily in what was probably a million dollar wrought iron chair.
"Cousins?" I asked indignantly. "So we're cousins now?" I stopped to stand in front of him. "Shouldn't I be bowing to you like every other damn minion in this place and calling you 'My Lord'."
He rolled his eyes. "Are we going to have this discussion again? I've already told you, repeatedly, that your title holds just as much importance as mine." He folded his arms. "Just because you were turned after me means absolutely nothing."
I examined him carefully, making sure stupid hadn't started calling itself Thierry.
"That isn't the truth and you know it. They've been calling you 'My Lord' for as long as I can remember. Not to mention that the worth of your title escalated in value when Maya died and made you the oldest vampire in the world." My lips faced down, taking on the shape of an unpleasant frown. "I just want to bite one of those damn ass kissers who are oh-so eager to serve 'Lord Thierry." My voice trailed off with mocking undertones. I paused for a few moments, visualizing what it would be like to act out my words.
Thierry's eyes crinkled with amusement. "So it always comes back to this does it? Who can command more respect?" His gaze scaled mine as if measuring my response "If it means anything to you, I don't want to be called 'My Lord'.
The lines of my narrowed eyes deepened even further. "I hate you."
That last contemptuous statement must have done it.
Thierry let his head roll back, making his laughter bounce and echo off of the glass constructed walls.
At least he found the matter entertaining.
I sat down waiting for the last traces of his laughter to leave. He wiped the corners of his eyes slowly. Finally he sobered enough to be serious.
When he spoke, his words interrupted my wandering thoughts like a sharp piece of cedar wood.
"Tell me once more about this human girl whose sister claimed that you raped her."
Not this again. "What more is there to tell? We had a chance encounter at that store Banana Republic, and she proceeded to christen me with her fast talking New York mouth."
I had apparently left myself wide open. "Faster than yours?"
Ignoring his comment I continued. "Like I said, there is nothing to talk about. The girl and her whole family are delusional."
"But she recognized the ring."
I lifted my shoulders in a motion that was too refined to be called a shrug.
"Humans are making designs like the one on my ring all the time. It's more likely that she saw something similar in the store, than you thinking that she knows about the Night World."
He sat forward and crossed his leg. "I never said she knew about the Night World. But it's obvious that she knows about the design of the ring."
A ripple of impassiveness settled on my features. The tightness of my jaw was perhaps the only indication that I disliked his remark. "Are you saying you believe her?"
Thierry sighed. "No, I'm not saying I believe her." He took a sip from a glass that had been sitting on the desk in front of him. "I'm saying the girl's sister believes you were the one who raped her. And no she's not delusional."
I began to get irritated. "I don't want to hear this. The idea that somebody used my form as a guise to rape the girl's sister is ridiculous." I flung my fingers in semi-wild gesticulations. "I mean why would someone do it in the first place? And if the person got it in their mind to do so, how could they be foolish enough to use my face for their cover."
The plains of his forehead furrowed. "You're speaking in the singular. Who ever did this isn't working alone."
I sat back closing my eyes briefly. "And you're speaking in the affirmative as if this even happened." I sat up "Thierry think. If this so-called group managed to pull what you're saying off, they wouldn't use my face. It's too recognizable."
He uncrossed his leg. "I think that was the point. They want you."
I let his words sink into my brain for a moment, and then cast the disturbing thoughts out, labeling them insane. "I don't want to hear anything more on this subject." I stood up preparing to leave.
"So that's it." Even though my back was facing him, I knew the look on his face was one of concern. "I come to this loud as sin city to resolve this matter and you're running away because you don't like what you hear."
I swept the vase that was resting on the grand piano with my hand, in a quick, angry motion. It shattered into tiny emendable fragments as it hit the wall. "I am not running away. I've simply had it up to here with your infernal and might I add, ludicrous accusations." I turned to face him. "And as far as I'm concerned the matter is resolved."
Turning around again, I hurriedly made my way towards the exit. "This will catch up to you. At least be ready to meet whatever this is all about, when it stands up to stare you in the face."
I paused. "You know, I might not be from New York, but I intend to stay. I'd advise that you, on the other hand, get the hell out. Go back to L.A. Thierry. Your business here is done."
I resumed walking, and left.
AN part 2: Reviews are greatly appreciated and muchly adored! Good, bad, doesn't matter. Naturally, I love the good stuff, but I also need to know what I can improve on.
