Disclaimer: You know the drill! I don't own anything in the Demonata bar any of the characters, creatures, locations and set-ups I've made for this fic deliberately. So that pretty much means that Esther, her family, Violet, the vampoari, Ellie, Nicole & everyone else who is non-canon is my property. But it seems like lately I haven't been using many Demonata characters (bar Lorcan & Connla), so I'm okay ;)
A/N: This chapter actually went through a massive re-write. Originally it was kinda just going to be filler in which you get to know Esther and Lorcan's dynamic more, but I realised that I wasn't enjoying the style of writing, and when I don't enjoy something, it really shows in my writing. So I scrapped all 1,382 of my words and rewrote this little masterpiece! Everything is sort of picking up now for Esther, and soon enough you will get to meet the Polish 'heart ripper' I promise you all. I just don't want to bring in my main villain too soon. And, just as a little spoiler, I am planning on doing a sequel fic to this if I think it's worth it.
In this chapter you get to see a jealous Esther (always fun) and it all gets a little scary really. I just needed to reminder you, my beloved readers, which San Valentino is dangerous and I realised that we haven't really seen his scary/dangerous side, so I wrote some of that in too. Don't worry, no-one gets too hurt, but it's kind of a reality check for Esther, a reminder that these beings are incredibly dangerous and that her smart mouth might get her in trouble some time. I realised she needs some boundaries and can't go around insulting every big scary vampoari she meets because she's a necromancer. Remember, she could be replaced!
My eyes snap open, and I scream again, a loud, high-pitched, eponymous shriek of horror. I'm not at Marcella's house anymore. My first immediate clue is San Valentino, looming over me, dressed in his usual riverboat gambler attire, only he's changed colours again, purple and gold, very snazzy; with a matching mask of solid golden colour. His dark eyes staring down at me, a smirk twinging at his mouth, looking highly amused.
"I really must try this more," he announces, his accent heavily coated with a good side order of smugness and self-righteousness. "You're downright adorable when you scream, little Esther!" My eyes immediately narrow from pure instinct, I hate it when people call me 'little girl' or something along the lines of that. Niña is only just tolerable by my standards, and that's because it's endearing, not some stupid insult to refer to my age, or maybe even my gender. "Welcome to the Carnival of Blood!" As he says it, he flings his arms over his head in showmanship flair, fangs flashing as he grins, staring up into the lighting above. "Try not to lose any limbs…"
"Could you please quit the spiel already?" An unfamiliar voice snaps from the corner of the room; heavily accented English, like Beauté Nacré, only the accent was Scandinavian, maybe Danish, and female. As she says this, the said person steps out the shadows, and I immediately know she isn't a human being. Yet another vampoari is in my midst. Cuter than Beauté, less formal than Decha, even more expensive than San Valentino.
Skin the colour of ivory, looking almost silvery in the surprisingly bright light of the room. The entirely purple room and it's really starting to give me a headache. The walls, ceiling, floor, the chaise lounge I'm lying on, all matching San Valentino's outfit. Maybe it's his bedroom? That's a nasty thought. But my eyes are drawn back to the cutesy girl again, staring into her eyes, which are incredibly fitting, blue like spring skies and outlined with thick, long lashes. Rosebud pink lips parted into a sweet smile, totally unfitting, and her soft-featured, snubbed-nose face is outlined in honey gold curls, swirling around her face. She's wobbling slightly in the five inch heels she's wearing. Shocking pink.
Matching her shocking pink dress, tight on her petite body, and a golden cross is hanging around her neck, almost comedic seeing as most people view vampire-like creatures as 'devils'. "Hello," she says, grinning her filmstar smile, her heavily accented voice making her sound like a Bond Girl. "I am Beikur Rose, it means 'pink rose' in Danish. Unlike most the others, my actual name."
"She ain't kidding sugar cube," San Valentino pats the top of my head, still smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "Look up her name in the history books, you'll find her. Rosie was the daughter of an important Danish lord in the 17th century; his eldest child and the only girl."
"Who turned you?" I direct the question at Beikur Rose, ignoring the showman Valentino, deciding that the seemingly nicer vampoari deserves more recognition than him. She smiles sweetly and for a second I worry she's mocking me, sympathising with the 'little necromancer girl', but she answers, her heavy accent making every word sound glamorous and exotic.
"One of our family homes' gardeners," she sighs, sounding almost happy about telling me this. "His name was Harry, and he originated from Britain. Such a lovely boy; you never would've guessed he was one of this kind." By now she seems to have drifted off into her own little world, eyes shiny, smiling as if Harry's in the room with us. "He charmed me, showered me with attention, then offered me the chance to live forever. And, being a spoiled little bitch, I naturally accepted." It sounded almost ridiculous with her calling herself a 'bitch'. "So he turned me into what I am now."
"What happened to Harry?" I ask her, staring into her shiny eyes, which abruptly fade as she jumps back into reality and looks at the floor.
"He's here…Just not very well…" She mumbles to herself, staring intently at the floor.
"Vampoari get diseases too Esther," San Valentino sighs, sitting down next to me, forcing my outstretched legs to rest on his knees. "Certain humans have…Unusual blood, a little like yours. Necromancer blood always tastes different to normal humans, but some humans have a blood type simply known as D. D for 'deadly'; a vampoari who drinks from someone with D blood will get a rotting disease. No-one knows where the D blood string comes from, or how it even works without killing the human carrying it. It never hits particular families or something, just one person per couple generations, that's all, nothing repetitive, always new and different. Someone with D could have kids with D, but it's never certain. Only some inherit it."
"And Harry drank from someone with D blood?" I ask.
"Yes," it's Beikur who answers this time, swallowing tightly, her eyes clamped shut tight. "He didn't even realise until his skin began to flake and his veins began to stick out like it always does. We've been keeping him alive by feeding him bottled human blood through a straw but…We don't know if we can save him."
"Can you save someone once they've caught D?" I ask them both, hoping for an answer.
"Sometimes," Valentino shrugs, looking down at me. "If you provide them enough clean blood it can wash the D out of their system, saving them from it. It's rare though, we can only hope Harry can survive. He's a strong vampire, well over seven hundred." Beikur Rose looks in the verge of crying and Valentino does something totally out of his character at this. "But I'm sure we can save him, Rosie." He smiles at her, the first kind one I've ever seen.
"Not to sound rude…" I mumble, trying not to interrupt this obviously emotional moment, "But where's Lorcan?"
"Ah!" Valentino's smile returns to its smugness, grinning self-righteously as he returns his piercing stare back to me. "You're little Irish boy! Well, he's okay. Cindy just asked to speak to him…"
"Cindy?" I cut him off, bolting upright so fast I almost smack him straight in the face. "Why the hell are you letting HER near him? He won't understand a thing she's saying!" I am totally aware that I know sound like Lorcan's girlfriend, but I'm so furious with San Valentino him taking the piss of me is suddenly a minor niggle to me.
"Ooh, touchy…" But his voice trails off when he sees how truly pissed off I look. I guess I might actually be frightening to a small capacity of people; fashionably retarded vampoari fitting the category. "Look, we just bought the two of you here because we're worried about Serse Ripper!" He sighs, sounding like he's a grumpy teenager and I'm his nagging mother.
"But you dropped us off at Marcella's last night! It'd make much more sense to bring us here…"
"We spotted Ingrid Westerhousen outside your parents' home last night, when we travelled there to collect your personal items, and realised that he's acting quicker than we anticipated. Don't worry," he cuts me off before I can begin asking lots of questions about my family's welfare. "They're fine! Ingrid wouldn't go hurting your family, surprisingly, that's something Serse would more likely do. But they clearly want you on their side, so massacring your family would be totally pointless."
"So you bought us here, to the Carnival of Blood, to live with you and the rest of your little gang?" I snap as I push myself off the chaise longue, so for once I look taller than him. "How nice of you!" My tone doesn't sound one bit grateful. "Now, where is he? He's my business remembers? I'm looking after him!"
"Down the corridor, third door on the left," Beikur Rose smiles sunnily at me, and a bottle of red liquid is in her hand. Her beloved Harry's dinner I guess.
"Thanks Beikur!" I call, already rushing for the door, yanking it open and storming down the hall, my hair flying out behind me, furious that Valentino would let Cindy anywhere near Lorcan. I'm not JEALOUS, I just don't want Cynthia confusing, nor frightening him. He's a nice boy, and he treats me better than any other guy I've met, so I don't want him scarred for life by that overweight prostitute. Reaching the said door I stop dead.
It's much more expensive looking than any of my outfits, which makes me look incredibly cheap. Pure mahogany and glamorous; guess that makes me cheap and chavvy. Turning the handle, it's blissfully unlocked and I yank open the door with all my strength. What I get to see before me makes me turn a burning scarlet shade and my eyes narrow thin like snake slits.
Cynthia Ellenscrow, teenage wannabe vampoari, more like prostitute, is leaning over Lorcan who looks the closest thing to terrified I've ever seen him. Her legs are barely covered, and her skirt is leather (go figure) and Egyptian purple in shade. Another leopard print top covers her large chest, about 3x bigger than my smaller one; this time the print is gold, like a proper leopards' fur. No jacket this time. Barefoot.
"Off him now!" I scream and Cindy jumps so fast she falls on the flaw, making me stifle a smirk as I look down at her, my blue Alice in Wonderland dress crumpled from falling asleep in it, and my hair an unbrushed mess around my pale face. I look half as stupid as Cynthia. She glowers up at me from her position on the floor, trying to regain some of her lacking dignity, but I ignore her and look up at Lorcan, whose staring pleadingly at me. "Oh my god! Are you okay?"
"Never…" He's gasping for air, obviously shaken by Cindy's attempt to flirt with him. "Let her near me again please!" He leans back into the leather, purple sofa (seriously, do these fangers have some purple fetish?), curling his knees up to his chest, shuddering. I dash forwards, practically jumping over Cindy, and sit next to him. I reach out my hand and gently place it on his shoulder.
"Lorcan, I am so sorry about what Cynthia just tried!" I stroke his skin gently, "If I'd known you were alone with her, I'd have got here sooner. I only woke up about five or six minutes ago Lorcan, so I didn't know. The minute San Valentino told me, I was out that room like a whippet after a rabbit." I look back at the glaring Cindy, who looks like a sulky child, only dressed like someone who gets paid for sex. "Get out!" I scream, making her jump, and I realise Cindy's never properly seen me angry. Maybe I am frightening?
She runs out the room faster than someone of her weight would be expected to; yanking the door open with one hand, dashing down the hall in the opposite way I came. Maybe she's going to tell on me? I roll my eyes at that thought, before looking back at Lorcan. "Okay, I have some explaining to do." I catch my breath. "We're going to be staying here for a while because…The people after me have been looking around my family's house and I refuse to let my family get hurt, so we're staying here for a bit."
"You attract a lot of attention Esther," he smiles weakly, "I can see why." My face goes red again, and I know he can see it this time, because he smirks at me.
"Don't you dare!" I hiss, but I know I'm smiling too and I look up at him. "I am so glad you're here! You're probably the only other human here that I can stand, Cindy is obviously not my friend." I look at him properly now. "What did she do?" I ask him.
"She just started touching me and trying to kiss me," he shivers. "And she dresses ridiculously." I snigger lightly at this. "I mean," he continues. "I've never seen anyone as ridiculous looking as her!"
"Cindy thinks it looks good," I shrug, leaning back into the seat. "Some people have an odd style, Lorcan, they think wearing clashing colours and too much leather, just like Cindy, makes them attractive to men. Some men, idiotic men, like that kind of thing. I'm glad to hear you don't."
"What do you dress like then Esther?" He asks me, his earrings glinting hypnotizingly in the light. He's still neglecting a shirt, but he's opted to wear a pair of black cameo pants, and looks like he's only just getting used to them.
"I don't know…" I shrug. "Not like Cindy, but no-one here dresses like me. They all dress like performing music artists, all show and flair, not like humans do. Being a vampoari means you need to keep up an image I guess, keep everything special and extravagant."
"You're special Esther," he grins and my ears go hot like someone's poured lava on them and he pats the top of my messy haired head. "You should be one of them."
"I don't really think I'd like it…" I sigh. "The living forever concept seems wonderful for a while, but when everyone you loves begins dying, then it all begins to hurt." I shrug again, leaning further back into the leather sofa. "And living forever seems like hell…" I trail off and look around the room. This one is plum purple, different from the room I woke up in, and the room I figure is now mine. I will literally DIE if it turns out I'm sharing a room with San Valentino. But there's no clock. "What time is it?" I ask him quickly. "Do you know what time it is?"
"It's evening," he says it easily and smiles at me. "You've been asleep for a long time, Esther. A couple of hours at the least."
"So, let me get this straight…" I mumble to him. "We're in a place called the Carnival of Blood, I've been asleep for about six hours, and you aren't curious?" I look at him, dead on in the eye, aware of how piercing my own can be.
"Of course I'm curious!" He grins excitedly. "I wanted to go exploring this place, of course I did, and I still do! But I wanted to wait for you in case I got lost and you started to worry. I'd hate it if you began to worry," he smiles softly, the first totally relaxed smile I've ever seen him give me.
"Thank you!" I say quickly, but before I can ask him if he wants to go for a wander, the door opens and a familiar face enters the room. Beauté Nacré, the pearly beauty and group leader looking as graceful and elegant per usual. Dresses in a familiarly glamorous outfit; a pure white, silken dress that looks sort of like a fashionable night gown, contrasting with her glossy black hair which is swirled on top of her head in a neat bun. The dress reminds me of the one I had on in my dream, slightly, and immediately brings me back to the thought of Connla. Why the hell was he there? He's dead…At least I think he is…
"Do you like weddings?" Beauté asks, holding out a golden envelope towards me. I give her an incredulous look, thinking she's joking, but I realise she's not just as fast.
"Who's wedding? I don't know anyone getting married." I ask cautiously, worried I'm about to be told I'm marrying San Valentino tomorrow or something as soon as then. I pray she doesn't reply with that, and today, luck seems to be on my side.
"I'm not surprised. The bride and groom are friends of mine; well, I say friends, more acquaintances, but when I told them about you, the bride insisted you should come. She's been in a predicament almost identical to yours Esther and so it's probably her sympathy that you twinged at." A small movement behind her makes me curious, and sure enough, a girl of about sixteen is standing behind her.
"Thanks but um…Who's that with you? I didn't know you hired many humans, bar Cindy." My tone comes out as a little curt, but she simply smiles, without fangs, looking like a bride on the night of her wedding she's so perfect. I turn back at Lorcan and sure enough, his eyes are transfixed on her; I'm guessing she has a lot of influence on men, so it's understandable why her face isn't looking at his. It makes me wonder if Decha the Power might be the man in Beauté's life.
"This is Elissa Quinn," she says matter-of-factly. "But people like to call her Ellie." Elissa Quinn steps out from behind the Queen of the Carnival (I've decided to nickname her that now), and I get a proper look at her. She stands at about 5'2 in height, fair skinned, and heart-shape faced with a widow's peak. Her hair is the colour of hazel nuts, and her eyes are an interesting auburn brown, looking like they should be reversed. She's dressed in a deep grey, long sleeved t-shirt and black jeans, with a pair of light grey converses on her feet. Attractive, fit, radiating strong-will. I think I'm going to like Ellie Quinn.
"I'm Miss Nacré's new PA," she says, smiling at me. Her accent is strongly Northern, a little like mine, but more Yorkshire than Geordie like me. "Amy, the person getting married, set me up here. Beauté helped her and her fiancé out with some demon based troubles a couple of years back."
"Ellie is going to be the maid of honour," the pearly beauty smiles flawlessly as ever. Wow, she sure does have connections with some people huh? "Amelia was there when her mother bravely sacrifice herself to save Ellie and her sister, Laura."
"Oh, I'm sorry!" I say quickly, the impulse of apology swiftly kicking in at the hearing of Ellie's mothers' painful demise at the hands of hungry demons.
"Don't be," Ellie says quickly with a kind smile. "She died doing things her way, which was what she always preferred to do. She'd hate to know me and Laura were moping over her death; she wanted us to move on with our lives. That's what we're trying to do."
"This will be all," the pearly beauty announces the second Ellie's finished speaking. "I just wanted to you to meet Ellie in case you see her around the Carnival. If you have any questions, please ask her, I'll let you two be. Oh!" She stops mid turn as she spins around, disappearing in a whoosh of air, before returning with a bag. One of my bags. "Decha dropped your clothes off here last night, just before he went to pick you too up. I realised you'd be needing them; you're much too tall and thin to share with Cynthia, and I figured you weren't into her style much, so here you are."
I begin to thank her, but she leaves the room swiftly will Ellie, eager to show off her new assistant to the other vampoari who are probably hanging around somewhere here. Speaking of which, I wonder where I actually am. Instinct is telling me I'm underground and it figures. The vampoari don't do light too well, unless it's fake, and there've been no windows I've seen so far. So they must be living underground, and the Carnival is roaring up above us. Good soundproof walls. How much did they cost? Is all I can wonder.
"Do you need to get dressed?" Lorcan asks me, and I spin round quickly, staring back at him.
"Yes…I um do…Could you wait outside or if there's a bathroom stay in there?"
"Of course," he nods, smiling at me as he exits into another room I can only imagine is the bathroom or bedroom of this little 'flat' like place.
I rifle through the bag of clothing, picking out clothes one at a time, giving them a quick look before dropping them back into the bag and sitting on the floor cross-legged, wondering what I should wear. If I'm going to explore the carnival with Lorcan, I want to dress sensibly. The first clothing item I pick out are my palest pair of blue jeans, the colour of a winter morning sky. See! I'm a poet and I didn't know it. Fishing through my shirts I pick out a blue one, a few shades darker than the jeans and a lacy white hooded top that I pull over the top of it. Just in case it gets cold up there. A simple pair of my favourite converses finish the outfit off, and I stand up.
"Lorcan, you can come out now!" He opens the door slowly and looks at me, as if he was expecting me to be wearing a flouncy pink ball gown, his face a mixture of confusion and interest. "It's not illegal for a girl to wear trousers now." I laugh slightly at his shock. "I don't always wear expensive blue ball gowns; in fact, I try desperately to avoid them."
"I think you looked lovely in your blue one," he grins at me. "You looked like a fairy from one of the stories my mother used to tell me as a child. Perfect!" His grin increases as I pout like an immature little bitch. Or maybe I just am one? You never know.
"Well," I put my hands on my hips and get ready for the big feminine speech. "These days, women aren't just there to smile with perfect hair, wearing dresses that show off their 'assets'. We can be equal to men. In fact, England is ruled by a QUEEN, not a king!" The look of astonishment on his face is nothing short of hilarious, so a charming, sickeningly false grin graces my mouth. "So, like I said, I don't think you'll be seeing much of me in princess dresses anytime soon, unless I get a brain transplant."
Lorcan shrugs, before resuming his grin, "Always worth a try," his smile shines like a star in the night sky, captivating and mesmerising all at once. "Now, can I see this 'carnival of blood'?" He asks, sounding like an impatient child, making my own face pull into a grin.
"Course you can! Just…Don't do anything dangerous!" I say quickly as he stands up.
The Carnival of Blood is every bit as disturbing as I'd pictured it; bright, flashy, its name embezzled in neon lights over a large archway made sculpted out of red metal, maybe iron. Large, oval balloons are attached to the sign, flashing in different colours every second. Buildings scattered the open ground and it clearly couldn't be a traveling carnival, because of the giant warehouses where each of the exhibits were housed; signs were stuck messily on the side, explaining which of the exhibits were on tonight.
Poster edges were fading and scratched slightly, but I can still tell what I'm going to be delightfully shown tonight if I so please. I could go and visit 'Cashmere the Half-Tiger'; the poster shows the fading image of a tall, attractive woman with orange skin, painted with black stripes and a tale sticking out from her backside, her outfit was a blue bikini top like thing and a thin material skirt. Tasteful as ever for the female of the species. Or I could pay a trip to 'Lakisha the Giant Snake'; a giant cobra, the same colour of fresh cream with coiling bands of blood red curving round it's body. I've never been a reptile sort of girl, so I tick that one off my list.
But it's the final poster that catches my eye; 'Marcella the Zombie Raiser'. A neat picture of Marcella is drawn upon the poster, portraying her in a long, sweeping black gown and a sparkling onyx tiara placed upon her head. Several zombies, decomposing and rotten, sag pathetically around her. My eyes stare at it, and I gulp, I literally fucking gulp!
That will be me. It'll be me on that poster when she dies. I'll be the one performing at a carnival; TEEN VOODOO QUEEN flashes before my eyes. A perfect title for me…
"Esther?" Lorcan's hand slams down on my shoulder, and I jump, squeaking like a little mouse caught in a cat's death grip. "Are you okay? You've been staring at that poster intently like it's something important. Hey! Isn't that the lady from that car…"
I cut him off, not wanting to go into it. "It just…Surprised me to know she still worked with her rotting disease…I thought they would let her rest or something. Not force her into dressing up and performing in some disgusting freak show."
"Freak show?" He asks, obviously confused at the concept of a freak show and I sigh, shuddering at the upcoming explanation I need to give him.
"A freak show, is a…" I'm now desperately searching for a politically correct term, trying to pluck one out of the air. "Display…Of um…People who are seen as…Different by society…" Is all I manage to mumble, keeping my head down the entire time. "And it's disgusting exploitive business which should be stopped because it pays people to be stared at and laughed at and…" I trail off, realising my rant is confusing him. "Okay, Lorcan, I don't like them because they're just…Horrible. It's making people who look different to me and you feel even worse by forcing them to be put on display and gawped at."
"No-one did that in my time," he says matter-of-factually.
"That's because people deemed as 'freaks' had to hide. I think people might have killed them if they'd shown their faces; people might have thought they were demons children."
"Aye," his accent always thickens whenever he says that word, it sounds totally pure, totally Irish and totally adorable. I find all my fears demolished the minute I hear it and grin up at him, my eyes glittering like a hungry ravens, only…Not as predatory…I hope.
I've noticed that as we've been walking around, inspecting the attractions, all different sorts of people are giving us those looks. The elderly and adults give us those 'oh! Isn't it sweet! Young love!' looks; the teenagers, both male and female either ignore us, or shoot the 'why did she/he chose him/her?' look. I'd never think anyone would give ME that look, but people are. As for the little children? They either ignore us like most of the teenagers, or look frightened. Well, Lorcan is very tall, shirtless and very scarred; and my skin, hair and eye contrast looks can make me incredibly eerie. In nursery school I frightened several other kids. I'm used to it.
The strong scent of cotton candy, fried food, cinnamon buns, sweat, tension and even the faintest scent of heavy makeup hangs over the air like a blanket; but sure enough, underneath, is the all too familiar sweet, sickly, coppery scent of blood. It seeps its long, sweeping, nimble fingers over everything and I shudder slightly, gripping onto Lorcan's hand tightly, looking all around me.
"You can smell the blood too?" He asks me, staring down from his impressive height of about 6'1. I nod, feeling slightly faint but refusing stubbornly to let my knees give in. "You get used to it eventually, then you don't wobble so much and look like you want to fall over."
"I don't want to fall over!" I snap the minute he says that and he laughs brightly, his earrings jangling and his hair blazing per usual. Something about him is so exotic and enchanting; and maybe I feel special because only I can understand him. "But yes, I can smell the blood. And I hate it!" I feel my toes curl at this. "It's disgusting and I personally don't understand how you can stand it."
"Like I told you, Esther, I spent my life fighting demons. A lot of blood was spilt in the process." We've stopped walking now, grinding to a hault in front of the funhouse. Screams and laughter echo from the inside, reverberating off the rounded walls which lead into the darkened attraction which in the darkness seems to go on forever and ever. As I'm staring at it, I feel his arms wrap around me and he pulls me close to his body. "But I won't go into the gory details; you don't do well, with gore, do you?"
All I can do is shake my head, but I don't want to pull away. Unlike me, he feels volcanic hot, radiating unusual warmth, while I seem to emit an icy cold. I'm the one to pull back of course, looking up at him with one of my most ridiculously fuzzy and idiotically warm smiles that I've barely given anyone.
"You're always so cold," he comments, and I find this ridiculous seeing that he's the one walking around shirtless. "How do you put up with it? It makes me worry about you." I stare up at him, shocked that he'd worry about me. I know he's promised to protect me from danger and all, but worried simply because I have a cool body temperature? That is possibly one of the sweetest things any boy has ever said to me.
"I'm always cold," I reply quickly. "It's my natural skin tone; I burn easily in the sun, I hate hot weather, I don't get the chills in the summer, it's normal. You don't need to worry; you can't control my body temperature!" I laugh lightly, trying to calm him down. "Lorcan I've always had a freezing cold body temperature, it's part of who and what I am; I think it's because…" But I'm cut off by a small, nervous tap on my shoulder and turn around.
A young woman is standing behind me, staring sheepishly at the ground, biting her lip. She's older than me, although her body language makes her seem about a year younger, peaking maybe even nineteen years old but she's certainly at least seventeen. Her height is only about 5'0, two inches smaller than the already short Elissa Quinn, whose height surprised me; but her face holds an age which lets me know she's older. Her soft, delicate face has Asian features, increasing her delicateness; her sleek chocolate brown hair is swirled into a high ponytail, sitting at the back of her head. But she's dressed in a gothic, almost vampiric style, which is ironic because she's 100% pure human.
Tight, pitch black leather jacket that hugs her small frame; a richly coloured royal blue t-shirt which shows off her cleavage and plum like breasts; black jeans cover her short legs, and two, neat snakeskin ankle boots sit on her feet. She even has a cute little nametag attached to her blue shirt and I take a brief glance. 'Nicole Phan' is the name of the girl standing in front of me.
"Are you Esther?" She practically squeaks timidly, staring up at me, a full seven inches smaller, despite being at least two years older. Her voice is high pitched and sweet, like bon-bons or chocolate; again making her gothic fashion look bizarre or comedic.
"Yes…" I reply nervously, unsure who she is.
"Nicole Phan, like the nametag says," she holds out her manicured hand which I politely shake. "I'm Mr Valentino's PA." God, do all vampoari have fucking PAs? Is all I can think. "He wishes to speak to you in private about something." The second she says my fiancé's name, her eyes sparkle and my stomach clenches brutally; this should clearly be the future Mrs Valentino, not me. Nicole is totally enamoured with him, much more than I can ever force myself to be. "Could you come with me?"
"Sure…" I mumble unenthusiastically, but know I have to go. "Come on," I smile weakly at Lorcan. "We need to be somewhere."
The Carnival is packed to the brim with people, so I'm literally dodging people as I scurry after the fast paced Nicole. We dropped Lorcan off back in the management building, which leads all the way underground via lift to the living quarters of the vampoari, and now it was just the two of us.
She's been leading me further and further away from the carnival, and I'm beginning to worry about what exactly San Valentino has got planned. I don't trust the smooth talking, odd dressing, outwardly polite and charming vampoari one bit, so I hate the fact that his little lovesick PA is leading me away from the crowds. As much as I hate crowds, I hate being alone with San Valentino five times over, so I'd much rather be back at the carnival than out here.
"I'll leave you here," Nicole mumbles awkwardly the minute she spots San Valentino who stands opposite me in the long, uncut grass, totally expressionless, and I hear her swiftly scutter away back to wherever he summoned her from.
"Nicole's a good girl," San Valentino sighs, watching his little assistant awkwardly run back towards the carnival, probably off to sort more things out for him. "But she isn't as special as you Esther." I stare at him, disturbed by this sudden so-called 'affection' and his façade of 'I love you' drops like a bomb. "You're pathetic little love feelings for the teenage warrior are pointless," he snaps at me, his face harsh and unfeeling, obviously a mix between extreme jealousy and extreme anger. Anger I get, but jealousy? San Valentino's using me as a revenge pawn, he doesn't like me! At least, I pray he doesn't, and I don't even believe in god. "You know you're marrying me; but your stubborn nature means you're obviously going to deny that you love him, and that is what amuses me so. You're stubbornness is hilarious to watch Esther Blake; I enjoy seeing it develop."
"I don't love him!" I snap, furious he's making these rude, ignorant, obnoxious assumptions about how I feel. Even if I DO love Lorcan, he has no right to go making assumptions and laughing about them. But I don't love Lorcan in any capacity more than friendship, so it's pointless and stupid. Like him. "Besides, like you care! You're in love with yourself! Besides…" I shut my eyes tightly and force the next bit out. "You're a powerful, interesting being of 'the night' or whatever! You could have any girl on earth; Nicole for one is clearly in love with…"
"But they aren't as interesting as you." He cuts across, smiling serenely like a little angle. "You are one of the most interesting human beings I have ever come across, there's just something so drawing about you. And it has nothing to do with blood or how you look; you radiate something. Intend to discover what it is."
"So, you don't need to marry me to acquire information about what I 'radiate' or whatever!" I fold my arms across my chest and glared slightly, not as much as before, but still just enough to maybe make him a little less comfortable. "The only reason you're marrying me is to get back at my father and piss off me as well! This is practically a big hate crime!" I yell incredulously. "This isn't about me; it's about you and my dad's years old war over the deal you made!"
For some reason this really seems to piss him off, and in a split second he's in front of me, and all my confidence and anger vanishes within the blink of an eye. He grabs hold of my right wrist with one gloved hand, tightly pressing into the flesh with his slender fingers. "You do not know who you're talking to, you stupid, little, girl." His eyes are burning with rage and I feel my skin go a good few shades paler. "I could tear your throat out at this very second but I'm choosing not too, so. Less. Of. The. Attitude!" He looms over me, a suffocating wave of white hot fury rushes through me and I squirm, forcing his grip to increase so much I bite my lip.
My wrist bones seem to be closing in on themselves, compacting and I know he'll break my wrist if he so forth desires, so I increase the tension between my lip and my teeth. I'm biting down so hard now I can feel the skin beginning to push open, the smallest droplets of blood beginning to leak from the now open wound I'd caused myself.
I know my wrist is on the verge of snapping, and I can practically hear the bones in my wrist creaking with the pressure of Valentino's hand clamping down on my wrist like a carjack. I swallow back my nerves and manage to meet his eyes; although my own are practically popping out their sockets, beginning to water at the edges, and I pray not to cry. Crying shows weakness, and San Valentino is going to find my weakness either hysterical, or, my stomach plummets at this thought, sexually exciting. I wouldn't put it past him.
"Apologize, now," he hisses between clenched teeth, although his gleaming fangs have slipped, unsheathed from the gums and raking over his lower lip. "APOLOGIZE!" He practically screams and I jump out my skin, the first of the tears beginning to trickle down my face, as I shiver violently.
"Sorry…" I squeal, my face crumbling like a child's and tears slipping out my eyes, trickling slowly down my face as my knees begin to buckle due to the horrific amount of pain my wrist is taking. "I'm sorry!" I sound pathetically frightened, but know it doesn't matter. This is life or death and we both now it; San Valentino is fixatedly staring at the blood trickling down my jawline and I pull back from him, his grip slowly slipping as he stared at the blood. My wrist aches with pain and I think he might've fractured it, but I'd rather have a shattered wrist than have him jump me and drain me dry of my blood.
"You can go now." He says, but his own voice is shaking with desire. Creepy desire. The desire to jump me and drink my blood on the spot.
It feels as if my heart is going to burst out of my chest, pumping twice as fast as usual, increasing my blood flow. After staring at him for one brief second, I turn on my heels and begin running away from him, my hair flying out behind me, my long legs pounding against the grass beneath me, and I'm glad I chose jeans and converses as my attire today, or this would be a lot harder. My arms swing as I desperately press myself to run faster, desperate to get away from him.
I briefly turn around, and see that San Valentino has vanished, off into the night; a sick feeling in my stomach tells me he's gone off to feed on another human, desperate himself to get the smell of my blood out of his mind so he doesn't try and eat me the next time we're forced to stay in the next room together.
The large crowds of the carnival are just a few foot ahead and, thank god, I manage to slip into the large gaggle of people, slipping in and out of other people, hiding myself in the blanket of the crowd, making sure that I can't be picked out from it, paranoid San Valentino will jump me any second. Nicole Phan is nowhere to be seen and something tells me that she acts as his main snack pot when he needs a daily dosage of blood; I also think that he's feeding Nicole human blood so she doesn't run out of her own. Like a personal drinking fountain. It'd explain why her jacket collar was turned up, covering her neck.
Part of me wonders whether all the vampoari feed on their PA's but I quickly dismiss this; Cindy's neck and wrists were always on clear display and they never showed any signs of scarring, while Ellie doesn't seem to be acting nervous, like someone who knows she's going to be fed on by a powerful vampoari. My wrist is still aching as I push my way past people, and I clench my fists tightly, trying to ignore the riveting pain which is pounding its way up my arm, spreading through my veins.
I know that I look a mess; dried blood on my chin, my wrist area scarlet, with the white imprints of San Valentino's fingers on my flesh, shivering violently as I trudge along, my head facing the ground, but I occasionally look up for conformation that my future husband isn't stalking me.
As childish as it sounds I'm frightened of him. Of what he could do. And most importantly, of what I feel. I don't know if I'm in love with Lorcan, or whether he's just becoming my best male friend who I trust more than anyone else on earth, bar Violet and my family, but I don't want to think about it. Life's frightening now; it isn't one big fun ball of magic and power. It's scary and I don't want to marry San Valentino. I don't want to marry anyone, I just want to be Esther, but now I'm even being denied that.
Trudging through the crowds of people, my hands driven into my jean pockets, although my right one is stinging like someone's just injected a wasp stinger into my flesh, and I swallow tightly, pushing back down my fears, unsure what to do. I can't tell Lorcan; the repercussions of that would be devastating and could end with the deaths of him, me and possibly even San Valentino. I can't tell my family; they're already panicking enough about my welfare, I don't want to freak them out anymore. But I don't want to dump it all on Violet either. Unless…unless she comes to see me…
Spoiler alert! Next chapter, you, my lucky readers will finally get to meet Violet in the flesh. Another fun little story for you here: Violet was originally meant to be this background character that'd be mentioned by Esther when she talks about her past. She wasn't meant to have any real significance to the plot, or anything else really! But then I realised that Violet acts as Esther's main confident, and all the information she knows could get her hurt sometime. So, here's some Violet love!