Title: Darkness of Companions
Based on: Companions of the Night by Vivian Vande Velde
Summary: A sequel to Companions of the Night. Kerry's life is threatened by an unidentifiable source Ethan/Michel seems to understand. He becomes her champion as she recedes farther into the darkness.
Rated: PG13
Author's Note: I do not own any characters. If you don't understand something in this chapter, feel free to ask in a review or email me. I abso-bloody-lutely love feedback.
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Coldness started to creep in the room, waking Kerry from a fitful sleep. She felt more tired than she did when she dozed off, and a bit nauseous. She had dreamed that a throng of giant zucchini was stalking her, and Michel was yelling, "Sic her my mountainy mass of mildew."
It would figure he took all the warm blankets, and now the suite was like the artic. She looped the remaining sheet around her trying to keep in the warmth as she padded around the apartment looking for the thermostat. She turned it up and walked into the bathroom to take a hot shower. The room was decorated in soft pastels with little bottles of expensive beauty products lined on the shelf above the sink. The toilet paper was the padded kind that didn't soak through, or crumble as much, and the bathtub was big enough to swim in.
She turned on the hot water and waited for the hot to wash out the cold in the pipes. The water got colder and started to spit sleet onto her hand. Confused, she bent to check the faucet and the freezing water curved and splashed against her torso. She twisted the water off in disgust as she reached for a towel to dry herself off. Kerry grabbed the Mrs. bathrobe, and changed out of her dripping clothes in order to hurry into the living room, where it was surely warmer.
It wasn't. She kicked the wall in frustration trying to calm down enough to think. Her breath was frosting as she placed her hand on the heater. Instead of giving off blessed warm air, it was emitting an artic chill. She struggled to turn it off, but the knob was stuck firmly in place. What the hell was going on?
Kerry rummaged through the two large LaSenza bags to extract the huge fleece pj's Michel had insisted she buy. She grabbed the thickest padded bra she owned and struggled to put it on without losing the bathrobe. She grabbed the tight jeans Michel had loved so much and wriggled into them and looked around for those tops he had grabbed at the last moment. She found them and glared at the gaping holes placed in strategic places in the name of fashion. Figures. She ended up wearing three of his silk shirts, the pj's, his leather jacket, along with the bathrobe over it all.
As much as she hated wearing socks indoors, she put on all they had and wedged her feet into a pair of slippers. Sudden inspiration struck, making her leap over and turn on the air-conditioner. An almost warm breeze wafted through the vents before turning chilly. She grumbled about making it worse and turned the new cool breeze off. Of course this button was jammed too.
She gave up and curled up on the couch, letting her heavy eyes close.
**Wake up you fool.** She could almost feel herself being physically shaken, but not a soul was nearby. Except Michel, but he was truly dead to the world until nightfall. Jarred awake the room felt colder, and she knew she'd have to do something before hypothermia set in. She delved through the storage room and found an emergency heater along with a toolbox. The room just might end up being the most beautiful of all if it kept her alive.
She grabbed the heater, but didn't dare turn it on in fear of the disappointment it would cause if it too turned icy on her. Wrapping a towel around her head she faced the breeze and started to unscrew the air vent. Stuffing the couch pillows in it served the duel purpose of blocking one air supply and keeping her from falling asleep in comfort.
She stood back satisfied and plugged in the tiny heater. It emitted a miniscule amount of heat, which was quickly swallowed up in the wintriness. In a bout of fury she grabbed the hammer and beat the main heater into smithereens. The coldness kept gusting in as she grabbed wires and ripped them completely out of the machine. Defeated, she flung the hammer at the window, figuring it was probably warmer out there anyway.
**STOP!!** She looked at the hammer suspended two inches from the glass and as it toppled to the ground it dawned on her that someone was trying to get her out of the suite. Breaking the window would give them a chance to get in, like this coldness was meant to drive her out. They wanted to get her alone. No, they wanted her to leave Michel alone in order to kill him. Then she would be truly alone and completely vulnerable, or in other words dead.
She was freezing and drowsy, not rational.
She tugged at her uncomfortably damp light-brown hair and resolved to never give in unless she died from the chill. The couch looked like a shell of unyielding wood, and seemed to call to her. Instead of curling up and sleeping, she started to haul it into a corner and tipped it on its side. She pushed her mini-heater into her little shelter and went into the kitchenette for some fuel. She grabbed the kettle and filled it with freezing water, sloshing a bit on her already freezing hands, making her hope it was worth it.
She brought her newly acquired chattel under the couch and thanked God they worked just fine. Soon she was marginally warmer and sipping on bouillon smugly pleased with the warmth in her little hidey-hole.
The element in the heater burned out at approximately 4:45. She desperately tried to retain the heat, but within a few minutes it had all escaped. She could feel it seep through the layers of her clothing until she was almost numb. **Move around you numbskull!**
She scrambled out and began to walk around the apartment. She never liked jumping jacks, but she still found herself doing them.
At exactly 5:17 the sun set. The glass in all the windows shattered. And blessedly Michel awoke from death to devastation.
The closet door slammed and she heard him exclaim, 'merde, its freezing.' She remembered him saying he could only feel extreme temperatures and she started to laugh in relief, or maybe hysterics. Michel anxiously called her name. She ran into his arms and hoped everything would be fine for the moment.
"Are you alright? You're skin is like ice."
She snuggled into his arms. "You're so warm."
He looked startled. "That's the first time a mortal has said that to me in years." She nestled closer and started to cry hysterically. "Whoa, what's going on here cheri?" He started to stroke her hair as she blubbered.
"It was so cold, and the heater and air conditioner wouldn't stop giving off cold air. I didn't know what to do; they would have killed us if I had left."
He had started to maneuver her and the shopping bags out the entrance, where heat immediately hit her. Her toes and fingers started to tingle and she hoped she didn't get frostbite. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips and muttered that everything would be all right, then bundled them into the elevator to escape.
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"It was hilarious when that old lady had to jump out of the way when you waddled out of the elevator."
"Not funny." Kerry rested her head against the cushioned seat in the first class section of an airborne plane. He had rushed her to the Kennedy and they had just caught a plane he suspiciously already had tickets for.
"I can still hear her screaming 'YETI' as you turned and knocked her over."
"Could we please not talk about this?"
"Then the manager came running after us and wrenched the robe off while berating you for stealing."
"Just wait until he sees the room." She muttered trying to marginally change the subject from her bad luck.
"Oh, don't worry, I own the hotel." She couldn't tell if he was joking. "I thought I was going to die when you got stuck in the revolving door."
"You only liked the fact I had to strip off a few layers to get out."
"I liked the fact that someone tried to pay you for the show."
"I didn't take off that much."
"No, but you wriggled a lot." He put earphones on and started to listen to a tape on how to teach yourself Swahili. He had grabbed that in the gift shop along with two ridiculously expensive suitcases. She had asked him why he picked Swahili, and he had said he already listened to all the other tapes. She was pretty sure there were more than twenty in the selection.
She tugged on her ridiculous tube-top- the only thing left of her layers, for Michel had refused to let her continue wearing one of his shirts- and tried to cover up. She resigned herself to her fate of probably flashing someone and continued to block out the annoying flight attendant. They were all offered complimentary food and drink, and Michel was wise enough to accept his so she could eat it. She hadn't eaten much since the Chinese food two nights ago, and the soup this afternoon. She gulped down Michel's free food before he could even offer it to her.
A few minutes later she had to go to the bathroom. She crawled over a nonresponsive Michel and walked over to the door. At that moment the plane jerked and the door swung, knocking her onto the ground. She picked herself up and slammed into the bathroom. A few minutes later she emerged to find most of the other passengers smiling at her, she dutifully ignored them and sat down beside Michel. He reached over and pulled her top back over her bra, leering.
(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)
AN_ Hey. where do you think they are going? The vote is still on for who dies. Anyway, hope you had fun reading.
Based on: Companions of the Night by Vivian Vande Velde
Summary: A sequel to Companions of the Night. Kerry's life is threatened by an unidentifiable source Ethan/Michel seems to understand. He becomes her champion as she recedes farther into the darkness.
Rated: PG13
Author's Note: I do not own any characters. If you don't understand something in this chapter, feel free to ask in a review or email me. I abso-bloody-lutely love feedback.
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~
Coldness started to creep in the room, waking Kerry from a fitful sleep. She felt more tired than she did when she dozed off, and a bit nauseous. She had dreamed that a throng of giant zucchini was stalking her, and Michel was yelling, "Sic her my mountainy mass of mildew."
It would figure he took all the warm blankets, and now the suite was like the artic. She looped the remaining sheet around her trying to keep in the warmth as she padded around the apartment looking for the thermostat. She turned it up and walked into the bathroom to take a hot shower. The room was decorated in soft pastels with little bottles of expensive beauty products lined on the shelf above the sink. The toilet paper was the padded kind that didn't soak through, or crumble as much, and the bathtub was big enough to swim in.
She turned on the hot water and waited for the hot to wash out the cold in the pipes. The water got colder and started to spit sleet onto her hand. Confused, she bent to check the faucet and the freezing water curved and splashed against her torso. She twisted the water off in disgust as she reached for a towel to dry herself off. Kerry grabbed the Mrs. bathrobe, and changed out of her dripping clothes in order to hurry into the living room, where it was surely warmer.
It wasn't. She kicked the wall in frustration trying to calm down enough to think. Her breath was frosting as she placed her hand on the heater. Instead of giving off blessed warm air, it was emitting an artic chill. She struggled to turn it off, but the knob was stuck firmly in place. What the hell was going on?
Kerry rummaged through the two large LaSenza bags to extract the huge fleece pj's Michel had insisted she buy. She grabbed the thickest padded bra she owned and struggled to put it on without losing the bathrobe. She grabbed the tight jeans Michel had loved so much and wriggled into them and looked around for those tops he had grabbed at the last moment. She found them and glared at the gaping holes placed in strategic places in the name of fashion. Figures. She ended up wearing three of his silk shirts, the pj's, his leather jacket, along with the bathrobe over it all.
As much as she hated wearing socks indoors, she put on all they had and wedged her feet into a pair of slippers. Sudden inspiration struck, making her leap over and turn on the air-conditioner. An almost warm breeze wafted through the vents before turning chilly. She grumbled about making it worse and turned the new cool breeze off. Of course this button was jammed too.
She gave up and curled up on the couch, letting her heavy eyes close.
**Wake up you fool.** She could almost feel herself being physically shaken, but not a soul was nearby. Except Michel, but he was truly dead to the world until nightfall. Jarred awake the room felt colder, and she knew she'd have to do something before hypothermia set in. She delved through the storage room and found an emergency heater along with a toolbox. The room just might end up being the most beautiful of all if it kept her alive.
She grabbed the heater, but didn't dare turn it on in fear of the disappointment it would cause if it too turned icy on her. Wrapping a towel around her head she faced the breeze and started to unscrew the air vent. Stuffing the couch pillows in it served the duel purpose of blocking one air supply and keeping her from falling asleep in comfort.
She stood back satisfied and plugged in the tiny heater. It emitted a miniscule amount of heat, which was quickly swallowed up in the wintriness. In a bout of fury she grabbed the hammer and beat the main heater into smithereens. The coldness kept gusting in as she grabbed wires and ripped them completely out of the machine. Defeated, she flung the hammer at the window, figuring it was probably warmer out there anyway.
**STOP!!** She looked at the hammer suspended two inches from the glass and as it toppled to the ground it dawned on her that someone was trying to get her out of the suite. Breaking the window would give them a chance to get in, like this coldness was meant to drive her out. They wanted to get her alone. No, they wanted her to leave Michel alone in order to kill him. Then she would be truly alone and completely vulnerable, or in other words dead.
She was freezing and drowsy, not rational.
She tugged at her uncomfortably damp light-brown hair and resolved to never give in unless she died from the chill. The couch looked like a shell of unyielding wood, and seemed to call to her. Instead of curling up and sleeping, she started to haul it into a corner and tipped it on its side. She pushed her mini-heater into her little shelter and went into the kitchenette for some fuel. She grabbed the kettle and filled it with freezing water, sloshing a bit on her already freezing hands, making her hope it was worth it.
She brought her newly acquired chattel under the couch and thanked God they worked just fine. Soon she was marginally warmer and sipping on bouillon smugly pleased with the warmth in her little hidey-hole.
The element in the heater burned out at approximately 4:45. She desperately tried to retain the heat, but within a few minutes it had all escaped. She could feel it seep through the layers of her clothing until she was almost numb. **Move around you numbskull!**
She scrambled out and began to walk around the apartment. She never liked jumping jacks, but she still found herself doing them.
At exactly 5:17 the sun set. The glass in all the windows shattered. And blessedly Michel awoke from death to devastation.
The closet door slammed and she heard him exclaim, 'merde, its freezing.' She remembered him saying he could only feel extreme temperatures and she started to laugh in relief, or maybe hysterics. Michel anxiously called her name. She ran into his arms and hoped everything would be fine for the moment.
"Are you alright? You're skin is like ice."
She snuggled into his arms. "You're so warm."
He looked startled. "That's the first time a mortal has said that to me in years." She nestled closer and started to cry hysterically. "Whoa, what's going on here cheri?" He started to stroke her hair as she blubbered.
"It was so cold, and the heater and air conditioner wouldn't stop giving off cold air. I didn't know what to do; they would have killed us if I had left."
He had started to maneuver her and the shopping bags out the entrance, where heat immediately hit her. Her toes and fingers started to tingle and she hoped she didn't get frostbite. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips and muttered that everything would be all right, then bundled them into the elevator to escape.
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*******~**~*~*~~~~~~~**~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~~
"It was hilarious when that old lady had to jump out of the way when you waddled out of the elevator."
"Not funny." Kerry rested her head against the cushioned seat in the first class section of an airborne plane. He had rushed her to the Kennedy and they had just caught a plane he suspiciously already had tickets for.
"I can still hear her screaming 'YETI' as you turned and knocked her over."
"Could we please not talk about this?"
"Then the manager came running after us and wrenched the robe off while berating you for stealing."
"Just wait until he sees the room." She muttered trying to marginally change the subject from her bad luck.
"Oh, don't worry, I own the hotel." She couldn't tell if he was joking. "I thought I was going to die when you got stuck in the revolving door."
"You only liked the fact I had to strip off a few layers to get out."
"I liked the fact that someone tried to pay you for the show."
"I didn't take off that much."
"No, but you wriggled a lot." He put earphones on and started to listen to a tape on how to teach yourself Swahili. He had grabbed that in the gift shop along with two ridiculously expensive suitcases. She had asked him why he picked Swahili, and he had said he already listened to all the other tapes. She was pretty sure there were more than twenty in the selection.
She tugged on her ridiculous tube-top- the only thing left of her layers, for Michel had refused to let her continue wearing one of his shirts- and tried to cover up. She resigned herself to her fate of probably flashing someone and continued to block out the annoying flight attendant. They were all offered complimentary food and drink, and Michel was wise enough to accept his so she could eat it. She hadn't eaten much since the Chinese food two nights ago, and the soup this afternoon. She gulped down Michel's free food before he could even offer it to her.
A few minutes later she had to go to the bathroom. She crawled over a nonresponsive Michel and walked over to the door. At that moment the plane jerked and the door swung, knocking her onto the ground. She picked herself up and slammed into the bathroom. A few minutes later she emerged to find most of the other passengers smiling at her, she dutifully ignored them and sat down beside Michel. He reached over and pulled her top back over her bra, leering.
(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)(%)
AN_ Hey. where do you think they are going? The vote is still on for who dies. Anyway, hope you had fun reading.