I DISCLAIM!
Summary:Isabelle is being followed by a certain vampire. But when her stalker saves her life will she learn to be grateful, or will the consequences lead her into a world of dark desire?
A/N: First of all sorry this took sooooo long, and thanks to everyone who reviewed/faved/alerted. I tried to make this as unfiller-ish as possible, but I still think it's a bit . . . meh. R&R :D
. . .
Haunted
". . . Wake me up, wake me up,
Stop my fall . . ."
- Every time You Go by Ellie Goulding -
Chapter 3 | Beauty Can Be Deceiving
She is sitting in her room, knees tucked under her chin, when her mother finds her. Maryse closes the bedroom door, expression stoic, before joining her at the end of the bed. There is a rustle of cotton sheets as she sits down, before silence surrounds them.
Her mother is the first to speak.
"Isabelle," her tone is dry, but Isabelle catches the slight undertone of impatience. She is worried.
"Alec told me what happened."
Isabelle sighs. It's so like Alec. Don't know how to deal with something? Tell mum.
Sensing that she isn't going reply, her mother continues.
"What's going on, Isabelle?"
Blunt. Straight to the point. Her mother in a nutshell.
"Nothing," her voice is small; still in shock she guesses.
"Oh, Isabelle. I think I know when you're lying. I am your mother."
She says nothing, instead staring intently at a spot on her carpeted floor.
"It's to do with Raphael isn't it?"
She has to fight the urge not to flinch at the mention of his name.
Dark eyes widen in disbelief, but her gaze remains fixated to the floor.
How does she know?
"Answer me, Isabelle."
Who told her that?
"Look at me, Isabelle."
Her head snaps up to attention at those words and she feels the emotion fall from her face as her eyes rest on her mother's form.
Isabelle's blood runs cold.
"Isabelle?" a frown creases Maryse's forehead in concern, "What's wrong?"
And as she speaks the words, Isabelle watches in horror as a single drop of blood trails from the fangs protruding from her mother's mouth, down her pale neck.
She screams.
Isabelle wakes with a jolt, her now sweaty nighty clinging to her like an uncomfortable second skin. She sits upright in bed, running a hand through her tangled mass of hair and breathes a deep sigh.
She hasn't been sleeping well for the past few days – even since the you-know-what incident in the kitchen; the one they don't talk about.
Isabelle turns, checking the clock on her nightstand. 3.32am.
It's been like this all night. Every time she wakes up and manages to lull herself back into a restless sleep she will awake again, an hour later, drenched in her own sweat, images of fangs and blood and death still plaguing her thoughts.
This dream had been all too real. Never had she had one so vivid before.
The image of pointed teeth, of blood, hot red and running down her mother's chin flashes through her mind and she has to fight the urge not to throw up.
A shiver runs up Isabelle's spine. It was too . . . disturbing – too real. How she wishes she could forget it.
Her thoughts drift to two nights ago and to the pair of blackish brown eyes, belonging to a certain vampire, she remembers all too well.
She can't fall asleep again after that.
HAUNTED
"Are we just going to pretend that nothing going on?"
Isabelle flinches at his words.
They are in the kitchen eating breakfast, an hour before their parents are expected to return from their latest trip to Idris. Jace is out with Clary, so it is just Isabelle and Alec – alone . . . and awkward.
When she had walked into the kitchen that morning she had taken one look at him, his back towards her, and almost walked out again.
Now she wishes she had.
The tension between her and her brother is thick as of late and they have barely spoken to each other since a few days ago when she "attacked" him, (his words, not hers) as she had overheard him refer to it whilst eavesdropping on him and Jace.
But, Isabelle had hoped (maybe foolishly) that Alec at least wouldn't mention it again and they could just go on as if nothing had happened.
No such luck.
Her answer is dripping with false innocence, "Um, what do you mean?"
Nonchalance. That is probably her best option right now.
Isabelle gets up then, turning her back on her brother and suddenly becoming very interested in dish washing.
"Oh, don't give me that Isabelle," his tone is exasperated, "You know what I'm talking about."
"No, really I-"
"Bullshit!"
Isabelle blinks in surprise, the sound of his outburst still echoing off of the tiled walls.
Her brother is a lot of things; awkward, flustered, resentful even, but not angry. Never angry. Isabelle can count the occasions when she had seen him truly blow up with anger on one hand.
This is one of those times.
She stares at him in shock; his cheeks flushed, nostrils flared and electric blue eyes ablaze with such intensity that she looks away in fear of being burned.
She wonders why he is so set on questioning her about this, but then she remembers that he is Alec and he always over thinks everything.
"I need to know what's going on Isabelle," his tone is angry still, speaking the words through clenched teeth, "Since when has my sister been strong enough to be able to throw me across rooms?" Wounded pride much? "And I'm-" his tone softens, "I'm worried about you."
Oh.
Guilt hits her like a slap in the face and she finds that it is too hard to look at him, never mind answer his plea.
A few moments pass in loaded silence before he speaks again. "Isabelle . . ."and his voice is so different from before, so opposite end of the scale (quiet, pleading) that her eyes snap up to meet his, "Tell me what's going on, Isabelle."
And a part of her wants to tell him, it does, but she knows that telling Alec will change things. He is so protective that he will try to get involved and she can't do that to him. She refuses to drag him into the mess she has made.
So she lies.
"I can't tell you what you want to hear Alec," Isabelle swallows the lump in her throat, "nothing's going on. Just let it go."
She turns then, and walks back to her room.
Alec's expression was so desperate, so full of concern and Isabelle hates herself for lying to him. She shouldn't be lying to him.
When she finally reaches her bedroom door Isabelle walks straight past it, her stern expression a sure sign of her new found determination.
She heads for the library, because Alec is right. Something is going on.
And she intends to find out what it is.
HAUNTED
They are in Hodge's old office, Maryse working, Isabelle quietly reading a book when it happens; she summons him.
Isabelle is not expecting it, and she jolts in surprise when her mother calls to him. She wants to run, but it's too late – a fog is already breaking out across the room, Raphael's face materialising through the pearly white – running now would look suspicious.
She doesn't want her mother asking questions, and even if she tried to run Isabelle's not sure that she could; she is frozen in place.
Her eyes are glued to his form as his face comes into focus, and she realises with something akin to horror that he is looking right at her.
The sudden urge to shout obscenities at him is overwhelming and she has to bite her tongue to keep from crying out.
How unexpected, she thinks. Up until this point she has associated Raphael with fear and anxiety, but never anger, never this . . . annoyance she feels.
She supposes that this is ridiculous in a way. Raphael saved her life after all; she should be thanking him, not cursing him to hell and back in her mind. Although, with all the inconvenience he has caused her, it is really any wonder she feels so angry?
Her mother starts talking then, bringing her back to reality and Isabelle averts her eyes, pretending to read her book when in fact there is a conflict going on inside her head about how she will handle this situation.
She tries to tune out what they are saying, but occasionally something he says will reach her ears and she will get distracted. His smooth voice, the slight accent underneath affects her more than she would like to admit. Warms her blood until it is bubbling read hot beneath her skin. Out of anger or something else she isn't sure.
She tries to ignore it. Puts it down to the vampire blood, which is probably true, but it is still so distracting and Isabelle can barely think straight.
Eventually, when she is calm enough to be able to form a rational thought, Isabelle makes a decision.
She will ignore him.
It is so simple it is a wonder she didn't think of it before.
In a few minutes Raphael and her mother will stop talking and he will leave and Isabelle can go on with her boring day like nothing out of the ordinary happened at all. After that she may never have to see him again and soon the effects of his blood will wear off and her thoughts about him will dwindle until eventually that fateful day he saved her life will be nothing but a distant memory in the back of her mind.
It is at that point that the flaw in her plan makes itself known.
Isabelle doesn't notice her mother leaving the room until she walks straight passed her, and by then it is too late to ask where she is headed. And suddenly the tension in the room is so palpable that she almost collapses under its weight, the anger she felt earlier dissipating.
All thoughts of her plans are forgotten and a feeling works its way into Isabelle's stomach; like a coil, winding tighter and tighter with every passing second.
She can feel his eyes on her, a prickling on the back of her neck and it is as if his stare is made of ice, as if the room temperature has suddenly dropped 20 degrees from his mere presence alone.
It is not too late to leave, she decides. Sure it would look suspicious but right now, with this anxiety she is feeling, she is passed caring. And it's not like he could stop her.
She moves before she can talk herself out of it; grasping her book in one hand and moving into a sitting position, preparing to-
"Are you going to pretend I'm not here, Isabelle?"
His voice cuts through the room like a knife, shattering any temporary courage she might have had and she noticeably flinches.
Raphael's quiet chuckle does not go unnoticed.
"There is no need to be so antsy Isabelle. I have already told . . . I will not harm you."
One look in his deep brown eyes tells her that he is speaking the truth; or at least, that that is what he wants her to think. But she will not be drawn in so easily, her anger at him from before is not forgotten.
She settles back into her position on the couch, still not saying a word. She is afraid that her voice will quiver and betray her unease. That is, if it isn't already apparent – Alec always does say that she has an expressive face.
Taking this time to scan his figure, her eyes travel from his stern expression, down to his torso where his white shirt is only buttoned half way, exposing a sliver of his sculpted chest and she surprises herself by admitting that despite how much she resents him, he really is good looking.
Isabelle tries to fight the blush colouring her cheeks – Isabelle Lightwood does not blush – but the vampires' smirk is a sure sign of her failure. She turns away from him, not wanting to embarrass herself further.
It is only when her gaze settles on the title of her book that she realises something.
"What are you re-?"
"Nothing!" hastily shoving the book out of sight, down the side of the couch cushions.
It is the first thing she has said since her mother left the room and, if the panic in her tone is any indication, she is sure that the man before her will realise that "nothing" is always something.
Raphael smirks down at her, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I'll bet."
He says nothing more and Isabelle sighs internally, relieved that he seems to have dropped the subject.
The Children of the Night. How ironic that he should show up when Isabelle happens to be reading a book about vampires. She thinks that she should have hidden the book sooner, but she had been so distracted by him that she had forgotten all about it.
After her conversation with Alec that morning Isabelle had taken to the library. This super strength thing was scaring the crap out of her, so she had thought that doing a bit of research was in her best interests.
Like she said, she doesn't like being in the dark and if vampire blood had any particularly dangerous side effects she wanted to know sooner rather than later.
She would have asked Simon, but that seemed insensitive.
And then there is the real reason. This whole weird situation scares her more than she would like to admit and Isabelle would rather take this secret to the grave than have people – especially a friend, like Simon – think she was weak.
The majority of side effects she had found in the book had been nothing too drastic – improved strength, speed, heightened senses – all of which would fade away with time. It had been the last point on the list that Isabelle had found the most disturbing; tucked away at the bottom of the page, in the smallest print, as if it was so unimportant that it might as well be overlooked.
". . . a desire to be near to the vampire whose blood was consumed is likely to occur in most cases. This can range from mere thoughts to a desire so consuming it has been known to manifest itself in obsession and/or insanity . . ."
Admittedly she has thought about Raphael a lot over the past few days, but that has been exactly that: "mere thoughts", a niggling in the back of her mind. And that is probably all it will ever amount to, Isabelle concludes. Or, so she hopes.
"I trust," Raphael begins almost hesitantly, as if choosing his words with care and she jumps after the bout of silence, "that you have kept your word and not told anyone about our . . . meeting?"
A scoff escapes her, "Of course not, I'm not stupid," the words burst forth from her lips before she can stop them, and she almost claps a hand over her mouth, dark eyes widening in shock.
Isabelle curses herself at her stupidity. She was supposed to be unfathomable, but his ridiculous question had set her off and she hadn't been able to control her annoyance any longer.
Isabelle considers that she should have been expecting it; she has never been good at hiding her emotions.
Raphael is looking at her, a strange mix of shock and admiration in his eyes, and she wonders what he thinks of her. The night he gave her his blood she had been a vulnerable mess and now it seems that the tables have turned for her completely.
Isabelle is even more astounded when Raphael's mouth slowly breaks into a grin.
"No, I suppose you're not."
Annoyingly her confidence diminishes at his words, and she finds that has to look away again. Raphael is a mystery to her and this fact irritates her more than she cares to admit.
She is so conflicted.
Conflicted about how he is making her feel. Telling her that he won't hurt her and, yet, whenever she looks at him she feels a hateful mixture of anger and vulnerability.
Conflicted about how he is looking at her. His stare makes her feel as though she is being x-rayed – as if he can see straight through the mask she is wearing – and she wants to squirm under his gaze but she won't, because she is not weak and she refuses to feel any more intimidated than she already does.
Conflicted about the way he keeps saying her name! Dragging out the "s" as if caressing it with his tongue; she hates it and loves it all at the same time.
What annoys Isabelle the most is that the vampire refuses to leave her thoughts, and she is not even sure why that is anymore.
She doesn't have to ponder it for too long though, because her mother chooses that moment to renter the room, analysing the scene before her in that critical way she does – Raphael's staring, Isabelle's flushed cheeks. Luckily, Maryse chooses to let it go, moving towards Raphael, her business head clearly back in place.
Isabelle takes that as her chance to leave, rising gracefully from the couch and heading towards the door.
"Isabelle."
His cool voice cuts through whatever it is that her mother is saying, the latter of which looks more shocked than offended. Isabelle stares back at his piercing gaze in disbelief – no man in their right mind would interrupt her mother when she is talking.
He is looking at her intently, eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement, though for what reason she isn't sure.
"You forgot your book," he begins suggestively, "I thought you might . . . need it."
It is like being doused in boiling hot water when she realises what he is saying – so he had known what she was reading after all – her whole body burning in embarrassment. Her cheeks refuse to blush this time – a fact for which she will be eternally grateful – and she snatches the book from the side of the couch, purposefully sparing him one last glance before casually walking out of the room.
She cannot see his eyes boring holes into her back, but she can feel them there.
HAUNTED
That night she dreams that she is drowning; surrounded by a body of murky, black water on all sides.
And then, through the darkness she sees it: the creature.
It so beautiful – almost impossible to make out through the glare of the light its golden skin emits, but beautiful all the same.
She could stare at it forever.
Isabelle just has a chance to see the familiar brown eyes through the glow, before the creature opens its mouth and swallows her whole.
End chapter
. . .
A/N: So I find this to be a bit boring but I find that with all of my writing lately so...
Hopefully the next chapter will be more exciting. NO! IT WILL BE!
Anyway, I hope Isabelle was in character here, because I know she was feeling a LOT of emotions but I was trying to convey the sort of effect that Raphael's blood might have on her. The next chapter will be a lot more interesting I promise!
Also, I made a few very minor changes to the first two chapters, just spelling really so you don't need to re-read them. And I also changed the time that Isabelle went to visit Simon because I forgot that Raphael couldn't go out in the sun. How silly of me.
Hope you enjoyed! :D