Title: Song of the Siren
Author: Twilightstaruby
Disclaimers: All Night World concepts belongs to L.J.Smith. Kiele and the other characters in the story belong to me.
Thanks to all those who have reviewed for the past few chapters! They were great and a source of motivation for me to write the story...i hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as i have enjoyed writing it...(p.s. this is the longest chapter i have written yet...compliments to those who have told me, many times in fact, that my chapters are too short...; )
Annad: The year is set in the current year we are in, which means that Shadrach, or Christian, which ever you like, is only over a hundred years old, which isn't really that ancient at all considering other vampires.
Dogs die in hot cars: so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter! It is eminent that kiele escapes though...you will find out why later...As for Chryseis, i am sorry to say that its update will have to wait for a while...but it shouldn't take long, since i have finished half of the chapter already.
Incarnated-soul: here you go...one whole chunk on their past...hope you like it!
Dark Angel's Blue Fire: Thanks for the compliment! and Kiele will find out about Christian/Shadrach...it is just a matter of time before she does...
Mayhemk( ): Thanks for the review! I am glad you enjoyed the story!
Author's note: Some of the facts on the NightWorld or vampires may be wrong so please pardon me and my ignorance..also, please don't hesitate to tell me so if you DO find them...also thanks to Dogs die in hot cars for pointing out some of the mistakes i made!
And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose leaves with the air.
George Gordon Noel Bryon, Lord Bryon, Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 29.
ChapterSix
Her mind was a jumble of thoughts as she surveyed the dingy motel room they had booked in for the night. Tired and dirty (she was certain she smelled horrible too), she was exhuasted enough not to complain about the lodging. The motel, situated at the edge of town, was really a refuge for people on the run from the Night World. It was the best Eli could do for them at this point of time.
Right now, the only thing they could do was to stay here for the night and pray that Shadrach did not find them out. She was grateful for the fact that all the slayers had made it out alive; that she herself had made it out alive. She had been worried about Kalika, but Eli had assured her that she was in good hands and that she needn't worry about her. Suddenly, Kiele didn't care about the griminess of the room, she was simply too tired and fatigued to bother about it. Everything will be clearer to her after a good night of sleep.
Ignoring the muskiness of the bed, Kiele lay down and willed herself to sleep. It wasn't long before she fell into a deep and fitful sleep.
The Past, England 1816, London
Christian stared broodingly out of his carriage window as it bumped along the road towards the Ashcrofts brightly lit sprawling mansion. He let out a groan and buried his face into his hands at the thought of what awaited him in the Ashcrofts' beautiful ballroom: the entire ton's matriarchs and their marriageable daughters.
Briefly, he contemplated turning around the entire carriage nut he had promised, or rather, Grayson made him promise that he will turn up and he had never gone back on his promises before. After reaching the conclusion that he could not escape from nor avoid the death trap that awaited him, he let out a litany of colourful curses in several languages that finally ended on a snarl aimed mostly at his best friend of eighteen years.
By the time the carriage drew up into the Ashcrofts' driveway, Christian had already worked himself into a fine temper and was smoldering with outrage at no one in particular. The footmen eyed him cautiously as they announced his arrival in the ballroom in unison "His Grace, The Duke of Rutherford!"
The noisy ballroom seemed to freeze for a moment as Christian started to descend the sprawling stairway. Then whispered and hisses broke across the whole ballroom as anxious mothers gestured indiscreetly at their daughters to "stand up straighter" or "straighten your gown". Christian rolled his eyes in exasperation as the crowd started to surge forward in a huge wave. Spotting Grayson in a far corner of the corner ballroom conversing with a group of bachelors, Christian started to make his way through the crowd with a few polite smiles and greetings.
When he finally reached Grayson, together with a half of the female population trailing after him, all his friend had to say was, "You are late."
"I am here now." Christian returned in a lazy drawl perfected through the years that managed to convey both sarcasm and disgust at the same time.
"True," Grayson acknowledged nonchalantly as he plucked a flute of champagne off a passing attendant's tray and offered it to Christian. "My wife was despairing of you ever turning up." Christian turned his head in the direction Grayson indicated with a tilt of his champagne glass to see Lady Alexandria, Countess of Langwood, or Alex as she was known to her closest friends and family, bearing down to him with a beatific fake-looking smile, which he was sure was simply put on for the sake of ton.
He was right. As soon as she was within hearing range of him, her smile dropped and became a displeased frown that marred the otherwise flawless complexion. "You are late." She stated with accusation, annoyance tingeing her voice.
"Good evening to you too, my lady," Christian murmured, amused as he bowed low over her proffered hand. He looked up to see her emerald eyes dancing with suppressed laughter even though she continued to frown at him.
"You are late." She persisted.
"So you keep telling me." Christian sent her a winning smile that would melt the hearts in an instant. Alexandria was no exception.
A reluctant smile tug at her lips as she rolled her eyes in exasperation, "My mother always said that you could charm the pants off the devil."
A snort of laughter that was unsuccessfully muffled burst out from Grayson. Christian, torn between horror and laughter, didn't even bother to dignify that with a reply.
"Come," Alex linked her arm through Christian's, " there is someone I would like you to meet. She is the loveliest young-" As Alex continued her list on the girl's attributes, Christian sent a pleading look to Grayson, who simply smiled and wave to him before turning back to his group of friends.
Christian started listing the things he would like to do to his best friend of twenty years, wringing Grayson's neck being at the top of his list, whilst keeping a congenial smile on his face as Alex dragged him through the crowd, stopping only occasionally to exchanging greetings with acquaintances. The fact that more than half the female population trailed after them didn't seem to bother Alex. Unbothered, she continued her relentless trail towards a twittering group of young females at the side of the ballroom.
Panic welled up in volumes as Christian tried to pull himself from Alex's death grip on his arm. The last thing he needed was to be surrounded by marriageable young misses with fluff for brians and characters akin to cats(they were nothing if not spiteful, conniving and devious)and endless conversation on the weather, clothes and Almack's. It was, if nothing, a bachelors worse nightmare come true.
"Alex!" he hissed, trying to jerk out of her iron grasp," Stop!"
If anything, her grip tightened and without a pause, she steered him directly towards them. Alex, for all her deceptively small figure, possessed strength equal to an ox.
Alex, heedless to his protesting, called out merrily, "Miss Thornton!"
The crowd seemingly parted like the Red Sea in Moses, revealing a stunning young debunate in a simple yet elegant pale blue silk evening gown, her pale golden tresses piled in an elegant coiffure.
Christian froze. Surely it was a coincidence.
It was most unlikely.
His polite society smile turned into a full-fledge grin as he looked straight into the startling violet eyes of one lady Gwenivere Sophia Thornton.
Mortification, horror and dozens of other emotions came to live in Gwenivere as she meet the amused grey eyes of Christian Gabriel Shadrach Claymore, Duke of Rutherford. He was impeccable, looking handsome as sin in his simple yet elegant black evening kit, which was a contrast to the brightly colored evening kits, which many of the other men donned. It made him stood out among the crowd like a hawk among the many colored peacocks.
And there was something else. He looked…dangerous. Yes that was the word: Dangerous. He was everything every matchmaking mama would dream of having as a son-in-law. As a duke, he held one of the highest and privileged positions in the British society. And his immense wealth didn't hurt either. Coupled with his extremely good looks, he was indeed the catch of the season. It was no surprise that the unwedded female population (and some wedded) was lusting after him.
Before she realized what was happening, he was in front of her, his handsome face grinning down at her as though he found the sight of her amusing. Inexplicable fury rose in her and she struggled to keep her composure. There was no way she was going to let this infuriating man destroy her cousin's coming out season, no way at all. His grin widened as though he sensed her inner turmoil and her losing battle with her fury.
In one smooth movement, he was in front of her, all elegance and smiles. Picking up her limp hand, gloved this time, he placed a kiss on her knuckles and greeted her cordially with a flourished bow, " My lady."
Snatching her hand back, she glared at him. She was certain that he had done that on purpose to remind her of her faux pas. The infuriating smile that told her he knew and intended it that way of reminding her. Damn the man. Deciding that two can play at that game too, she suppressed her anger and offered him a cool smile and a curtsey that was flawless in its execution. Meeting his storm-lie gaze once again as she rose up, she was startled by the admiration and…something else she saw in his expression but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared and the amusement was back once again.
Her brow furrowing into a small frown, she tried to make out what it was that she had seen in his gaze. So absorb she was in trying to decipher it that she jumped slightly when lady Alexandria's voice broke through them with a surprised and speculative tone," You two know each other? How did you meet?"
If Gwenivere didn't know better, she would have said the the Countess looked almost pleased when she said that.
Gwenivere shifted her gaze to the tall and elegant Countess of Langwood who was looking from her to Christian with a speculative look in her eyes that made Gwenivere feel vaguely uncomfortable. Before she could answer though, Christian smoothly said on her behalf, a slightly mischievous smile lingering on the side of his lips, " We met while I was out riding Black Fury. She was having difficulty with her…mare, which was spooked by an animal."
Gwenivere didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the blatant lie he was fabricating out of nowhere.
Gwenivere didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the blatant lie he was fabricating out of nowhere to the poor unsuspecting Countess. So, to protect her reputation ('Twas not at all proper to be alone in the woods with a man well known as a rake, even though they didn't do anything unseemly. Moreover, she had gone there against her father's wishes.), she simply smiled, amidst a bit forcefully, for the to compellation speak the truth always was deeply ingrained in her. It had never been in her nature to tell a single lie (okay, maybe a few white lies occasionally), nor does she abide people who tell them liberally.
However, she knew she had no other way out. So she kept mum as the Duke, in his smooth and mesmerizing baritone, related the tale of their fictitious meeting to the poor Countess of Langwood. The tale was told with such conviction that even she herself almost believed it herself. Almost.
"…And I saw her safely home. Right, Miss Thornton?" Christian's abrupt address of her startled her.
Bemused, the words, " You did?" slipped out before she could do anything.
In the silence that followed, Gwenivere felt panic and horror rose up in her as she watch the Countess's expression became suspicion as she looked from Gwenivere to Christian. She stole a look up at the Duke, who, in contrary to looking furious at her, was in fact looking as though he was trying desperately not to laugh.
"Are you lying to me?" the Countess's voice was heavy with suspicion, her emerald eyes flashed as she glared at Christian and Gwenivere in turn.
As if on cue, the strains for a waltz started up in the background, softly lilting and enchanting. Immediately, seeing a way out of the mess they heading into, the Duke turned to Gwenivere, extending his palm to her in a smooth gesture," May I have this dance, my lady?"
Without waiting fir a reply or for her to agree, he took her by her arm and steered her into the increasing crowd of dancing couples waltzing to the music with an "Excuse us." to his the Countess for good measure.
With her arm safely, and firmly captive by his iron grip of a grasp, Gwenivere had no choice but to follow him docilely onto the dance floor and dance. To pull her hand out from his grasp or to walk away from him now would only cause a scandal, which was the last thing she wanted to happen on the night of her cousin's first season.
That reminded her of something: scanning the crowd, she found Hanna easily, her cousin's slight figure was dancing gracefully, her long wheat colored hair pinned up in an elegant coiffure. She was stunning with her immense grey eyes, smooth skin and clear complexion. The only thing that marred it was a faint, pink birthmark slanted on her cheekbone. Even with that, nothing was unable to detract the radiant beauty she emitted with ease.
She smiled contentedly. At least she was enjoying herself. Then she saw Hanna's dancing partner. Her smile turned into a full-fledged frown as she glared at the offending man. Viscount Carstairs, though handsome, was a man who was reputed to be a rake through and through, who went through women like one goes through a bottle of water. Even the ton was unable to keep track of the number of women he had gone through. He was hardly someone she wanted Hanna to be associated with.Apparently, Gwenivere's brother had the same idea, for he was heading towards them with purpose in his step and expression. Even as she watched, her brother skillfully intervened in the dance with a genial yet firm smile on his face and eased Hanna away.
"Is dancing with me such a torture?" A note of censure was in his tone as he asked her.
Startled, Gwenivere turned back to her forgotten and silent partner.
"I beg your pardon, your grace?"
"You are frowning." He said as a form of explanation.
"Oh." She didn't realize she was still frowning until he mentioned it. Quickly, least he was offended, she explained apologetically," I wasn't frowning at you, your grace. I was looking out for my cousin, who is having her coming out season today and I saw something that wasn't…well, to my liking."
Laughter tingeing his tone, he asked," May it be possible for you to tell me what is it that isn't to your liking?"
"Viscount Carstairs," Gwenivere said with disgust evident in her voice.
"Ah…I see. Now that we have cleared up and dismissed the theory that dancing with me is a torture, please smile. People are looking."
Gwenivere smiled at the disgruntled tone as he muttered the last sentence.
"What do you expect, your grace? You are dancing with me." She said as a form of explanation.
"What is that supposed to mean? What is wrong with you?" He frowned at her.
"It is just that I am a nobody-" Before she could finish, Christian cut her off, anger blazing in the depths of his silver gaze.
"Don't say that. You are never a nobody," He snapped," You are...you. Unique." He added after a moment of consideration.
Touched, Gwenivere smiled up at him, her violet eyes twinkling. "But that is just it, Your Grace. You are, after all, the catch of the season and a duke. And, as you have so kindly pointed out, I amme,a second daughter of a Earl, hardly worthy of a man with your wealth and status. People in the ton don't care much for what is within, Your grace. They only see what is on the outside and your status."
"Then the people who think like that are idiots.Catch of the season," he muttered with disgust in his tone, "I sound like a damn fish. And stop calling me 'Your grace'. Christian will do. 'Your grace' makes me think of old wizened men with quizzing glass."
She couldn't help it: She laughed.
Her laugh was infectious. Soon, Christian was grinning back at her, "Bad form, my dear, to laugh at your dancing partner. Besides," he leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, " people are starting to look."
With some difficulty, she reined in her laughter, but telltale signs of her mirth remained in her twinkling violet eyes and the curve of her luscious mouth, as did the laughter remain in his storm-like gaze.
So they remained like that for the rest of the dance, laughing at each other silently with their eyes as they spun to the beautiful strains of the waltz. Little did they suspect that their lives would change drastically in a few days' time.
Author's note: Sorry this is so abrupt...didn't really have time to finish this up properly...i promise i will do so at the fastest time possible, but for the moment, please put up with me! thanks! oh...pls remember to to press the pretty review button beforeyou go! Hahaha...:p