Author's Note: As you can probably guess by the title - there is a death in this chapter. If you recall, the summary of this story emphasises that this is a tragedy, and not a nice story. This chapter is where it really starts. There is explicit violence, death, and even more morality issues in this chapter. I plan to steer clear of sexual issues and keep the gore to a minimum, but this story is about a vampire, and it is only going to get darker. I don't want to scare anyone off, I still want this story to be enjoyable, but want to give you one last warning that we are headed into the woods, and its only going to get more dangerous and morally difficult from here.
Assuming, that is, I actually manage to put down in words what I'm imagining in my head.
The man rummaging about the carriage finally found what he was looking for and rose to his feet. He was holding a gun, that looked similar to the flintlock muskets her father's guards used, though it lacked the clean shine Snow associated with them. He held the gun confidentially and extended it toward Darion, just as the swordsman were closing.
Darion fell back into the shadow. Abruptly, his laughter was cut off. For one stretched moment that seemed to twang and pull her nerves, everyone was frozen in surprise. In contrast, the next few moments seemed to pass so quickly they blurred together.
Darion reappeared from the shadows beside the cart cast by the lantern.
In two steps he reached the man standing with the gun, who noticed he was there.
Darion smoothly slid a knife between his ribs – Snow saw it glint in the light.
Darion neatly plucked the gun out of his hand, as the driver fell.
The gun fired.
One of the swordsman fell.
The shot finished echoing in Snows ears, and she was left staring at Darion in shock and horror. How – what – why – nothing made sense. She could not comprehend what she had just seen. She could not connect Darion with those actions. The additional fact that she could see him smirking - standing over the man he had just stabbed – was merely another facet in her confusion.
The remaining swordsman was not confused. He turned and ran. He did not look back. Darion chuckled.
Snow slipped down the tree recklessly quickly, and landed a bit harder than she had intended. She pulled herself to her feet and looked up in time to watch Darion pull the knife out of the man at his feet. It dripped red. Snow stopped, shocked by her sudden reaction to it.
Darion looked up toward her, evidently having heard her hit the ground. It felt like he was looking into her.
Snow looked away, and deliberately began walking toward him, thinking about anything but the bleeding man Darion was crouching over, and looking straight ahead. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look.
The bleeding man had evidentially made a grab for the dagger Darion had been holding while he was looking at her. Snow watched as Darion knocked his wrist away, and without any ceremony, slid the second knife which had somehow appeared in his hand, up into his throat.
Snow watched with shocked eyes as his hands flared and pushed against Darion, despite knowing that it was too little, too late. Snow didn't even realize that she had been hearing his heart beat, until it suddenly stopped.
The night seemed too quiet, and Snow suddenly felt cold.
Darion looked up at her again. He looked solemn. It was a sharp contrast to the laughter he had given earlier. It did not make her feel better. His eyes flicked back down the road toward where the man he had shot was lying.
Snow suddenly realized that he was still alive. She could still hear his heartbeat.