Chapter Nine: Complications (part one)
Author: Twilightstaruby
Author note: I am alive! No, I really am. See, I updated, a very sign of life. Hahaha...sorry about the late update. As incarnated-soul so kindly pointed out, I got distracted. Again. By none other than Amethyst, my first story ever to be posted online. The plot has been changed rather dramatically though, as it is now set in Hellewise, Maya and Theorn's(OoOooo...) time and how Maya powers and vampirism came about. I am going to have fun writing about that...hehehe...but don't hold your breath while waiting for the next chapter for Amethyst; you might suffocate to death. No really, I am really bogged down by junior college life and homework. Lots and lots of homework. Ugh. My holidays are turning into unofficial school days.
Now to address my reviewees:
Mental Twitch 'Sh33r's: Sorry about the tensey thing I keep doing...I really have no idea that I do that...It seems that my words don't seem to have a grammer and tense check...Gwak. I think I need a beta-reader...
tracing-tt: I feel really guilty about not updating soon...And I am glad you like the flashbacks! I had a great time writing them...
incarnated-soul: A woman indeed...hmmm...haha...I think I am going to pair Gregory up with someone he is completely unable to deal with...that should put some spice in his story... ; )
Dogs die in hot cars: I am (still) trying to finish up Chryseis's new chapter...hehe..part of the problem is that i am stuck and is not sure how to continue...Thanks for saying all those nice things! I am really glad Hanna is not out of character...I had a really difficult time planning and contemplating the things she would be saying...
angel rules: Thank you sooooooo much : )
annoymous reviewer: I have my reasons even though six months is a tad too long... : P
As for my dearest friend Setus: This entry is longer than the previous one. Much, much much Much longer : )
A/N: This is only part one of this chapter. Part two will hopefully be up soon...Partly, the reason why this chapter was split into was the fact that there was simply too much to squeeze into one chapter.. please understand.. there is also the fact that my computer crashed down on me and died...sob
Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. Of Death.
-Francis Bacon (1561-1626)
Chapter Nine
"Angelo," The word escaped from Shadrach's mouth before he could stop himself, more out of surprise than anything else.
"Angelo?" Surprise and dawning realization made Kiele's statement sound like a question.
"Angelo." Angelo confirmed irritably with a roll of his sapphire eyes as he straightened with predatory grace from his relaxed and lazy position against the doorframe until he was standing and facing them directly, arms crossed over his chest casually.
Silence fell. Kiele's brain was screaming at her to Get out! Be anywhere but here! But her feet seemed to have been rooted into the ground and her body frozen. Oh god, she was stuck in the same room with one of the most feared lamias of all: Angelo.
Angelo. His name was one that was feared by slayers and Nightworlders alike, for he killed with no reason. It was said that he had massacred a whole clan of werewolves in one single night by his own, thus earning him the name: The Angel of Death. He was rampant throughout England in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, killing all that came across his paths, even his own people were not spared. But, at the start of the twentieth century, he disappeared without a trace. Some speculated he was on the run from a more powerful vampire; some thought that he was dead, killed by slayers.
Kiele thought not.
Here he was, standing in front of her, a real-life evidence of his existence. His piercing icy blue eyes boring into her and Shadrach with a force that made her want to run for cover. Only her pride and the slayer in her forced her to look straight into his eyes without flinching away, or trying not to anyway, from the force of it.
From the way he had addressed Shadrach, it would appear that he was working for him. She darted a look at Shadrach, who was looking as though he would rather be anywhere than here. Angelo looked as though he didn't care, but there was an underlying anger beneath the amused façade he was putting on that she could detect. Obviously, he wasn't pleased with what he had just observed.
Well, neither am I! She wanted to scream at him. She was sharing an unwanted only-God-knows-what bond with a leech, the one breed that she had sworn to rid the world of to make it a better place. But then again, on second thoughts, God might not want to have anything to do with him.
But, judging from the looks of it all, Kiele did not appear to be having any advantage in this very uncomfortable situation. Her only escape was blocked Angelo; she was certain if she tried hide in her room, the very solid oak door will give way in seconds under the assault of two very angry lamias. She eyed the full-length window next and gave an involuntary shudder.
It was a horrifying five stories drop straight down, directly into the congested streets of Las Vegas, the city of the Night. She preferred not to die such a messy death, thank you very much. Also, not to mention there was a very solid and dangerous Shadrach Silverthorn and an equally dangerous and angry Angelo in the room whom she was certain would kill her in without a qualm, soulmate or not, should she try to escape.
So, that left her with only one choice: the dagger.
Even that wasn't much of a choice. The dagger was embedded far too deeply into the wall to be extricated out; half the hilt was into the wall. Damn Shadrach Silverthorn and his vampire strength.
The way she saw it, she did not really have anyway out except through her demise, which wasn't far behind judging from the acidic looks Angelo was casting in her direction. Her hopes of escaping this alive wasn't helped by the fact that Shadrach wasn't looking exactly willing to protect her from harm.
Some soulmate he is, she thought snidely before another less happy thought struck her.
Great, she thought with a humor born from desperation, what a way to die. To be killed by two of the world's most powerful vampires. And me being a vampire slayer too. The irony of it all.
Her gaze slid to the embedded dagger again. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated the chance of her ability to pull the knife out from its position. The last thing she was going to do was to stand here docilely while they kill her. It was simply not in her nature and neither would her pride allow such a thing. Before she could even move, Angelo's voice stopped her cold in her tracks.
Angelo's head whipped around to pierce her with his impossibly inhuman cobalt eyes, the cold fury in them enough to frighten even the most brave-hearted of souls.
"No you don't."
It was the last thing she heard before something struck her with the force of a stampede, throwing her into an endless abyss of darkness.
"Damn it Angelo, why did you do that for?" Shadrach snarled as he darted forward to catch the slayer in his arms before she hit the ground. He had felt the backlash of Angelo's power as it had glanced by him and hit her. Incomprehensible fear clogged his throat as he tried to check for a pulse.
If she was hurt, or even killed by Angelo, by god, he will kill the vampire himself, friend or not.
"She isn't dead yet, Silverthorne. I only knocked her out because she was trying to find a way to kill us," Angelo snapped curtly, annoyed and startled by the behavior of the usually cold and detached man he had come to know as a friend.
A feeling of relief came over Shadrach when he realized that Angelo was telling the truth as he felt the steady pulse of Kiele's heartbeat. The relief he felt was replaced by anger towards Angelo.
"You will regret it if you ever, ever hurt her again," Shadrach bit off the ends of each words, mouth set back in a snarl as the vampiric side of him begun to show.
"What?" Angelo looked at him as though he was crazy. "I would beg to differ, but that would require me to use the word beg, but, in case your memory is failing, you were the one who ordered us to find the slayer and kill her, not kiss her. Even if the two words begin with the letter 'K' and have four syllabuses, it doesn't mean that they have the same meaning." Heavy sarcasm laced every word of Angelo's, incredulity in his eyes.
Shadrach had remained silent throughout the whole time, his face back in the impassive mask he wore everyday. His gaze lifted, silver eyes inscrutable, piercing in their intensity. Stiffly, his face not betraying a single expression, he stated," We had an agreement, Angelo. I do not interfere in your affairs-"
"And I do not interfere in yours, " Frustrated, Angelo shoved a hand through his hair, cobalt eyes aggravated. "But-" Unable to come up with anything to refute the point Shadrach had brought up, Angelo simply let out a infuriated snarl.
"Good retort," Shadrach muttered, amusement glinting in his grey eyes.
Whatever Angelo was about to say, or more likely snarl out was lost as someone appeared in the room.
Two someones to be exact.
Angelo always had a headache trying to differ the D'Ary twins from one another, so he had stopped trying after a while and simply called them the twins, especially when he kept getting them wrong and when he was sure the twins were enjoying his confusion.
Even though both vampire brother and sister possessed angelic looks and had stopped aging at the age of twelve, Angelo knew that they were one of the best in the Nightworld at what they do despite their deceiving appearances, which was essentially killing and torturing without leaving a trace. But still, Angelo did not trust nor like them. There was something simply too eerie and inhuman about the two and they enjoy the process of tearing their victim to bits centimeter by centimeter too much for his liking. All in all, simply being in close proximity with them gave him the creeps.
"Approaching slayers," One of them said detachedly, blank blue eyes giving the room and the situation a once over. The gaze stopped briefly at the slayer, before moving back to Shadrach, all without a change in expression.
Apparently, one of the slayers had gotten free and informed the other slayers nearby. It wouldn't be wise to stay here any longer, not that he doubted their ability to finish off the puny humans heading their way. After all, strength was in numbers and it was only the four of them plus a currently unconscious slayer against god knows how many human pesticides. Angelo looked towards Shadrach, who had stood up, the slayer cradled in his arms.
"Lets go."
The Past, England 1816, London.
Glyn was used to hardship.
After all, her childhood was one that one could hardly describe as filled with love and care. She wasn't born with a silver spoon between her lips, unlike so many of the aristocrats that live in the beautiful streets of London.
She was in fact abandoned as a babe, placed on the doorsteps of the orphanage with a letter accompanying her. The only link she had of her parents was the gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant that had been with her since her birth. Her hands automatically went to this particular charm for comfort in her days in the orphanage.
She hated that place: the people, the dank environment, the tasteless meals, the bullies and the caregivers, if they can be called as such. In Glyn's opinion, they were more in the category of 'pain givers'. The first chance she had, she had high-tailed it out of the dreadful place.
When she had first gotten out onto the streets, she had made her way to a couple of respectable companies to find a job, mostly as a nanny or governess. Then she had realized her gullibility. No aristocrat in her right mind would hire someone like her. It wasn't because she did not have a credential, as one manager had kindly pointed out, but the fact that she was young and pretty.
It would seem that the married women of the ton had not much trust in their husbands ability to remain faithful, especially with a young and pretty woman living under the same roof. Rather than chancing the risk, most simply avoid hiring young girls like she herself.
Glyn did not consider herself pretty. She was too scrawny from her years of having to live on the harsh streets, and her eyes, of all the colours, had to be purple. Who ever in the world has heard of purple eyes? Her face was too sharp and thin for her ever to be considered beautiful and her hair, once a colour of wheat, had been chopped off to sell into a short bob and dyed a mousy brown by Janice. Janice, also an orphan, had never liked Glyn for reasons unknown to her and she had taken every chance she could get to play a prank on Glyn or to get her into trouble. One of her pranks had involved a bottle of brown dye and Glyn sleeping while it had happened.
But even though she wasn't pretty, she was young. And that, the manager had assured her, was enough to deter the ladies of the ton form hiring her. So she hadn't had a choice but to seek employment as a maid in the many households that line the streets of London. It was either that or she would be forced to sell herself on the streets. It was a condemning fate to endure. Glyn had seen many of such prostitutes during her life in the orphanage. The sight of them had been enough for her to swear never become one of them, even if it was to save her life. She had been lucky enough to find a job as a maid within the household of the Ashcrofts, who are, as she was told since she had never had the chance to meet them, very nice people as compared to many of the other aristocrats who apparently mistreat or rather treat their servants like slaves.
She had been given a wonderful overview of the couple who were apparently 'wonderful, caring people who are genuinely in love unlike many of the ton married couples', as she was told by the butler, housekeeper, governess all the way down the ranks to the scullery maid, all of whom obviously adored the Ashcrofts.
The kitchen she worked in was in a mess with people rushing about the place carrying out chores in order to prepare for tonight's party, which the Ashcrofts were holding.
Liveried servants decked out in the colours of the Ashcrofts (pale blue and silver) rushed in and out the kitchen so many times that Cook, incessantly irritated by their disturbance and intrusion into her territory, had barred them out of her kitchen. Just as Glyn thought things were finally going smoothly, a very harassed and panicked Trissa, Lady Ashcroft's lady's maid, came rushing in with the panicked announcement that the governess had taken ill at the last minute and would not be able to take care of the young master and that the Lady had asked if Mrs. Ryin, the housekeeper, was able to spare a maid to take the place of Miss Tibbles, the governess.
A few minutes later, Glyn found herself rocking a young child of one to sleep while trying to keep most of the baby's drool off herself. Sounds of the ongoing party below traveled softly through the thick wooden nursery door that separated them from the rest of the house.
A few minutes later, Glyn found herself rocking a young child of one to sleep while trying to keep most of the baby's drool off herself. Sounds of the ongoing party below traveled softly through the thick wooden nursery door that separated them from the rest of the house. Sitting there in the silent nursery, some part of her yearned to be amongst the aristocracy, away from this life of poverty and misery that had haunted her every footstep, even though she knew clearly in her heart that it was impossible.
Fairytales as such simply do not happen in the real world. They are what they are: simply tales written to fulfill the children's dreams, nothing more. It was amazing how disillusioned one can become simply due to the passing of time and experiences in life.
Glancing down, she found the child already in deep slumber, sucking on his thumb even in sleep. Gingerly, she got up and placed the sleeping child into the crib, careful not to awaken the babe with sudden movements and put her past half-hour's efforts to waste.
Task done, she let out a soft sigh of relief and stretched herself, having been in the same position for too long a period. On silent foot, she headed towards the door, opening it just a tiny bit and easing herself out before closing it gently behind her. Without the nursery door now to serve as a noise insulator, the sounds of the party going in full swing downstairs came to her ears clearly.
She recognized the lilting waltz as one of Hayden's. It was a song that one of the caretakers at the orphanage had loved to play every night even though her skills at the pianoforte were not something to be proud of. To put it simply, she would rather been deaf; such was the extent of her ability at butchering the piece beyond recognition.
Had poor Mr. Hayden be able to hear this, he would be spinning in his grave.
Quietly, she walked briskly along the corridor, wanting to reach the servants' quarters quicker so that she might have the dinner she was deprived of just now and some, in her opinion, rightly deserved sleep. Turning sharply at a corner, she was still contemplating her dinner when she bumped, rather solidly into someone, knocking the breath out of her.
Hands grabbed hold of her by the arms before she lost her balance completely.
"Are you alright?" The deep baritone had Glyn groaning inwardly to herself. Why did it have to be an aristocrat of all people? And one apparently on his was to an illicit liaison if the lady by his side was any indication. Glyn sniffed in disapproval privately as she sneaked a discreet look at the lady in question. Well-dressed and pretty. And clingy. It was almost as though she had no backbone form the way she was clinging and just about hanging from the gentleman's arm. Surprise had her looking up at the man whose hand held her arm gently but firmly, his grey eyes twinkling in suppressed amusement at her apparently, even though she was sure she had done nothing.
That and the fact that he was laughing at her for reasons unknown to her caused a scowl to appear on her face. In turn, her lack of decorum caused the spineless lady to scowl at her in distaste and to her frustration, to deepen the smile on the gentleman's face.
Looking down pointedly at his hand, which still grabbed her arm, she asked in an overly sweet tone that grated even on her own ears," What may I do for you, my lord?"
"We are looking for the library," The lady sounded as though she would rather lose her way than to ask her for help.
And we would like to be alone. Glyn helped the lady finished the unspoken part of the sentence. There was no mistaking the sly and meaningful glance the lady was slanting towards the gentleman.
The same feeling didn't appear to be reciprocated by the gentleman, who was looking down at the lady with barely suppressed impatience that shone through his grey eyes. In fact, he did not seem very eager to be left alone with the lady in question.
Which put Glyn in a very difficult position indeed. In the either way that she responses, she would face the risk of insulting one of the aristocrats. So she took the easy way out.
"I am still new to this house, my lord and lady, and I do not know my way around here well," She pasted a apologetic smile on face as she curtsied deeply. Planning to go off and make her escape while she still could, she realized that he still held on to her arm.
"My arm if you please my lord," She tilted her head slightly.
"Why don't you let her go Theorn? Then we can go off to find the library ourselves…" The lady's voice trailed off suggestively, leaving Glyn a clear idea with what exactly she had in mind. Reading was definitely not on the lady's to-do list with the gentleman. Completely expecting him to comply, eagerly even (which hot-blooded man wouldn't?), he surprised her by cursing softly under his breath. In French.
"I am tired of this," he snarled bad-temperedly. Glaring down at the wide-eyed lady, he continued," Lady Gilford, please get yourself off me. I have made it clear and I will do so again: I have no wish to be your lover."
The word 'lover' made Glyn blush in mortification and wished herself somewhere else far away from here, trapped in the midst of a quarrel between two aristocrats. She tried to surreptitiously pull her arm out of the gentleman's death grip but it was to no avail. If anything, he tightened his grip more.
Her fate sealed, Glyn heaved an inward sigh as she waited for the heated argument to stop. By the time it eventually did, with the lady storming off, wrath in her every step, Glyn was beginning to tire. She had missed her dinner and she was tired, hungry and cranky.
"Would you please let go of my arm?" She gritted out between clenched teeth, too cranky to worry about her breach of etiquette.
Immediately, he dropped her arm," I am sorry-" He begun but Glyn was already storming off towards the servants quarters. She had only walked a few steps however when he grabbed her arm again, stopping her in her tracks.
"What?" She snarled out the single syllabus, glaring daggers at the offending hand before turning that glare onto the owner, who was grinning at her apparent grumpiness. He didn't seem to mind that she was not exactly the soul of civility to him even though she was a mere servant.
"I need help getting back to the ballroom."
Theorn grinned in amusement at the fiery blond that was stomping in front of him, leading him back, however unwillingly to the ballroom the Lady Gilmore had dragged him out of. Never had he came across a servant with a temper and daring like hers was. It was a rather refreshing experience if you ask him.
And she was pretty, with her startling violet eyes and delicate features. Theorn had this nagging feeling that he had seen her somewhere before; he just couldn't recall where. Perhaps a glance when he went by her in his carriage? Hers was a face that was unforgettable. Dismissing it, he set his mind to more important matters: Like how he was going to explain to the Lady Ashcroft about his lateness and disappearing act.
He heaved an inward sigh.
Alexandria was lovely, but she could be a dragon with a will of steel at times.
Amazing how a tiny slip of a woman could so effectively scare men of their age and experience so well. It was downright embarrassing and humbling.
It was only then that he realized that the girl had stopped in front of and was glaring at him with a wrathful expression.
"The ballroom, my lord."
He did not even have the chance to thank her before she was gone in a blink of an eye.
Dismissing her, he turned back to the ballroom he was remised from for so long and found Alexandria, of all people, bearing down on him with what he could only describe as an utterly fake smile, her eyes flashing.
Looking around him, he found himself without a way to escape. Heaving a sigh, he pasted a smile on his face and turned back to face Alexandra, whose smile had vanished once she was out of sight from the rest of the ton and was glaring at him as though there was no tomorrow.
Stabbing a long, manicured fingernail in his face, which missed his eye only by a few inches, she hissed in an undertone," Theorn Matthew Delano Claymore! You are late!"
"Alexandria, how nice to see you. That is a nice dress you have on," Pretending not to hear her comment, he reached past her to pick up a flute of champagne from the passing waiter.
"Don't even try to change the subject! You are late!"
"I realized that," Theorn replied dryly, grey eyes twinkling in amusement at the obvious effort the Countess of Langford was exerting to keep her volume down.
"Do you realize how many young ladies are waiting to be introduced to you?" She continued relentlessly, steering the topic towards, as always, eligible young ladies.
"And that is precisely the reason why I always try to be late," Theorn muttered under his breathe. It had been Alexandria's goal for him and Christian to marry since her own marriage.
Behind her, he saw Greyson heading in their direction, a grin on his face. Theorn simply lifted a brow at his close friend of many years before turning his attention to look for Christian. He immediately found his brother on the dance floor with a petite blond.
"That is the Miss Gwenivere Sophia Thornton, "Alexandria answered his unasked question, "Lovely isn't she?" Saying so, Alexandria beamed up at him before darting a sly and satisfied look at the couple twirling on the dance floor.
Theorn suddenly felt sorry for his brother. It was obvious as to what Alexandria had up her sleeves and if Christian wasn't careful, he might very well find himself walking down the marriage aisle with Miss Gwenivere Sophia Thornton if Alexandria had her way.
"Oh look, there is Miss-"
Whatever Alexandria was about to say was drowned out by the footmen's announcement," The Duchess of Gunningworth!"
A ripple of murmurs and whispers spread across the ballroom. The Duchess was a mysterious figure that no one had ever seen before. It was said that her beauty was one that rivaled even that of the moon, yet it was also said that she was ugly beyond belief.
Intrigued, Theorn looked up and found himself stunned like everyone else in the ballroom as the Duchess glided down the stairs, her long black hair flowing down her back.
He wasn't stunned by her beauty, but her eyes.
Even as he watched, the gold of her eyes turned a deep violet.
A/N:
This is only part one of the chapter. Part two will hopefully be out soon...
I will not be updating as often or maybe even not during this month of November. This is because I am participating in an online novel writing competition, Nanowrimo (national novel writing month) together with my friend to accomplish my yen for being a writer, even if I happened to turn out to be a lousy one. : )
In any case, I hope that this chapter (definitely one of the longest I have written) is up to standards. I really hope so. Please give me your thoughts on this chapter through reviews thank you!
Yours,
-twilightstaruby