I don't recommend mirror traveling if you are afraid of:
A) The dark
B) Shadows of every human that's ever looked in this mirror and not knowing how you know that
C) Strange noise
D) Going so fast that you feel like your face is peeling off
In other words, I loved it. I struggled to keep my eyes open, but all I could hear was honeysuckle cackling laughter. Maybe it was an imprint thing, but I also faintly smelt the scent of burnt sugar. But I freaked when I realized what was happening: I was just kidnapped by a vampire I accidentally made fall in love with me, by mirror, and I have no idea where I'm going and how I'm going to get back to my werewolf soul mate and/or help out Camp defeat Gaea. Not that I would be much help, but... it's the thought that counts.
I always hated that saying. I mean, really—what if you were a doctor and your patient has internal bleeding and you decide you should have them swallow a much of BandAids to stop it, and they died (perhaps from choking)? Would saying 'it's the thought that counts' make it any better for their family?
Eh, maybe if they were mentally handicapped.
So many Americans are.
One minute I am in my PJs in Emily's bathroom, in a quaint little cottage on the edge of a Quileute reservation, ready to put my curlers in and brush my teeth. Then a white cold hand, reaches out and grabs me by the scruff of my neck, dropping me in some looking glass from a messed-up version of Alice in Hades, er-Wonderland. (Obviously Alice in Wonderland was written by a child of Dionysus, and based on a true story. We say based on a true story, because obviously, as he was Mr. D's kid, he wasn't all right in the head.) Hours later, I'd assume, the shadows melted and created a new scene. An opulent castle entrance, with dark stone pillars and a shady arch above my head.
A cold arm tightens around my bicep to keep me from slumping down on the ground. For some reason, traveling through mirror has really taken a lot out of me. I turn my head and face the leech who'd abducted me for the second time. Maybe I should get away again just to be able to say "Third times the charm!"
The vampire smiles at me. I nearly have a heart attack, because in my experience, seeing a leech smile is like Hades' laughing. Now, I've never met Hades, but with Death Boy—excuse me, Nico di Angelo shadow traveling in and out of camp at the oddest moments, you know from his expression that his Daddy ain't exactly rainbows and unicorns. "Hello and welcome to Volterra," the vampire says, his blood red eyes twinkling. (Is that why vampire's eyes are red? 'Cause of the blood?)
"Uh, hi," I reply, reaching for my bag, to retrieve my knife. In a moment of despair, I remember I'd left my bag on the bathroom floor, and my knife with it. "What just happened?" I wonder hesitantly. I've learned with monsters, as much as an occasional summer camper and occasional year-rounder does. Sometimes it's better to indulge the monster, and they might let you go. Some of them are mentally handicapped like that.
The leech chuckles. "I brought you through the mirror so we could finally be together." Not only does he have a special ability, but he is also delusional. Just my luck. And my fault, additionally, on the delusional bit.
How could I lead him on like that?
Because you didn't want to die, dumbass.
"Oh." I bite my lip. "I thought that was a myth." That insanely repulsive grin never strays from his chalky white face. As I run my eyes over his features, I realize I never have before, in the two other times I'd met him. Well, three, if you count the broken mirror episode. He has a strong nose with high cheekbones and protruding jaw. His hair is almost like a faded brown, like it got washed out with watered-out bleach like the rest of him during his transformation. He has a full grin with razor sharp, pearly-white teeth and pale lips. His eyebrows almost look stenciled on and he's tall; not as tall as Paul, but maybe 5'11, 6', or even 6'1. I come up to about shoulder height, at 5'6. His fingers are long, like a pianists, and there are several crescent shaped scars in various places on his chalky skin. Unlike the first time we'd met, he's now clad in a black robe that sweeps the floor behind him.
"No, no," he assures me. "It's not a myth. It is only I who has this gift however, and I was the base of that legend, back when I was a young and careless vampire." Damn, I wish you were still young and even more careless.
"What about burning in the sunlight?" I inquire, an emotionless mask adorning my face like a pro-actress. How long can you keep this up? I ask myself. How long till he realizes you are simply indulging him in this fantasy and you're stalling-for what?
"Oh, no!" he exclaims, fervently. "Another silly misconception. We sparkle, instead. There is a story to that one though..." Good. More time.
I nod felicitously. "Yes?" My stomach overturns at the sight of this man.
"Indeed. There once was a young newborn vampire named Maude, who revealed herself to humans, so we-the Volturi, were forced to kill her. But she was in public and had an audience, so as soon as she stepped into the sunlight, we burnt her. It looked to the humans as if the sun was burning her to a pile of ash."
I politely nod again. "Who are the Volturi?" And this dark castle was Volterra? That seems oddly cliche for a vampire family's home. Like, of course the vampire's live in dark looming castles in—where is this? Somewhere in Europe, I'm guessing, because there's no way Americans would settle at a place named Volterra.
The vampire grins cheerily, as if we are exchanging pleasantries.. "Oh! We are like the vampire royalty—" Explains the castle. "—and it's our job to keep the laws of vampires. We must prevent the knowledge of vampirism to spread to humans. I am part of the guard." Seems legit. I swallow, and strategise my next move in this. Do I ask him his role in this—or his name, perhaps? How he became a vampire, or is that still too much of a sore spot?
I don't get a chance to decide before he speaks again. "Would you like a tour? The castle is simply magnificent. We happen to offer tours to anyone, but yours will be special." How special? Like, "I'll suck your blood" special, or "I'll show you my room where we can get it on" special or even "I'll kiss you at the end" special. Again, I don't get a chance to ask—or even answer, before he whisks me into the next hallway. It looks exactly the same as the previous one, banners, tables, decorations, and all. It's labyrinthine, mazelike, winding, and serpentine. Halls and secret corridors are everywhere, and he guides me with his frosty hand attached to my elbow, like he's my date to a dance n' shit. The corridors are irregular and twisting, and intricate, confusing, and convoluted in some sort of system that my vampire lover knows by heart.
Normally I'm a big fan of the heart, but... We all learn how to make exceptions for people who love us. (Hooray! Hazza! People love me! What else is new?) We walk under archways and through chambers lit by candlelight on the walls. Centuries old artwork adorns the walls. My stomach drops. My eyes, right now, would be some obscure color never seen before, because I can't tell what I'm feeling. Perhaps they'd be gray, like Athena's.
Lady Athena... Please help me. I swear I will devote my life to studying and worshiping you, I pray. I send out a separate message to whoever the Greek God of getting out of horrible situations is.
"And this is the Great Hall," my vampire lover says, pulling me into a dark, round, empty throne room. Three thrones are centered near the back of the room. He spreads one of his hands until it's outstretched, as if expecting me to marvel at it. I shiver instead. This room is seriously eerie. I sensed many deaths in here. I knew that Nico di Angelo would have a field day coming into a place with so much obvious death. At this point, I don't care who helps me- just, somebody, please do.
"It's really nice," I force out. "But... can we go somewhere else in the castle?"
He almost looks disappointed, but his grin never wavers. Is he ODing on Happy Pills? Escatsy? It must be the drugs! Do vampires have drug dealers? I internally debate it. While I'm at war with myself about how heroin would affect leeches, he brings me upstairs to his bedroom. Oh great. It's this kind of special. Nooo! I don't want to lose my V-card to some Walking Dead wannabe. I've never even watched the Walking Dead. For the sake of my sanity, assume they are vampires and not zombies, because I am unsure which is correct. DRACULA!
I think about the castle. Had I been trying to sell it I'd describe it so: Grande and made of hand-cut stone stacked together. Fitted with torture chambers throughout. Wall to wall bloodstained carpeting in carpeted chambers. Applicants would benefit from cellar with sleeping (as well as death) accommodations and shackles. In need of certain refurbishment and modernization in various places but offering a magnificent view of village and clock tower with a scrumptious nightlife you can really get your teeth into.
Pfft... Who am I kidding, I lost (read: misplaced) my sanity years ago! He lays me down on his bed, and for the record, I have no idea why he has one, and I realize I'd just walked around an entire castle in my extremely see-through pink pajamas. No wonder than bastard was so happy the whole time! I bristle.
"Why do you have a bed?" I snap.
He eyes my breasts and I nearly pull a Paul and snarl out of my mind. "Oh. I planned ahead on having you here. Besides, most vampires have beds for spending time with their mates."
Do any mythological creatures not have soul mates? I'd like to meet them very much.
I say absently, "Do you have a mate?"
"Well, I hoped you would be mine."
My eyes nearly bug out of my skull. Not that I shouldn't have been expecting it, of course. I gulp, "OH." If I was in anime, I would've sweatdropped. Obviously, I am not. I find the idea of being his forever young mate horrible-actually I found it depressing to be with anyone but Paul. This crush has gone too far! I can also most hear my mom's voice in my head: No, it hasn't. Fall in love with Paul. Or the vampire. I have a channel on my KissCam! set up just for you. Of course she would. "What's your name, anyway?" I ask the vampire curiously.
"Damien," the leech replied. "Now sleep." He put charming emphasis on his command and like he was compelling me to do what he asked, my eyes flutter closed on cue.
I dream of wolves. They're racing, words echoing through their heads-at least twelve points of views ricocheting and boomeranging around in my mind at a time. I look down to silver paws and realize that right now-I'm Paul LaHote. I wonder if he's having a reverse dream as me, where I'm in his shoes and he's in mine. I've heard of those. I think. Sometimes I just make up stuff because it's easier. Like, most of the time.
I'm sprinting, going like a bat out of hell, galloping? like a lunatic and I hear voices- familiar ones.
Paul! yells Embry. This isn't going to help anything. The trail doesn't go anywhere.
I/Paul snarls, whipping past him like a cheetah. Or a wolf.
Paul, Paul! She's gone. Jacob says. There's nothing you can do.
Whipping past trees, all off the wolves are focused on stopping a vicious, bloodthirsty silver wolf. Paul bares his teeth at all who get near. Where is she? Where is she? runs through his/my head. Where is she? I'll kill that bloodsucker! Where did he take her?! His thoughts are furious, red rage ripping through him like a knife. Slicing his heart apart, taking away one of the few things he loves. He loves me? I'll kill that leech! I'll kill him! I'll rip him apart and torture him slowly roasting him over the bonfire... he begins to plot.
Sam's voice cuts into his murderous strategies. Come back! We'll find her. Maybe that pixie Cullen can help us.
Maybe Alice Cullen can look into Alex's future, pleaded Seth. He mostly has good thoughts about the Cullen coven/family. He's friends with them. Like Jacob.
I don't want those stupid bloodsuckers in this at all! This is my mate, my imprint! Paul growls in agony. It hurts so much. There is a sharp pain in his chest, like his Alex (me) is far away and he doesn't know where but she's in danger. I'll kill him! Where is she?!
Paul's shoulder cuts against a branch, but heals quickly. Where are you, Alex?
My dream shifts, melting away into another scene. Now I'm in a pit. Darkness ebbs and flows here.
Little half-blood... Join me and you'll be saved from the vampires. Uh, no thanks. I'm good. The voice is deep, womanly, and powerful. More compelling than the vampire's but less forceful. Like Gaea's trying to persuade me. I wonder if I could charm her.
Such a pity. Imagine if something happened to your camp?
I scream at the thought of Camp being upturned my earthquakes. Landslides crushing the cabins. The beach eroded away into nothing. Zeus's Fist smashed. Craters everywhere. Camp Half-Blood is my home, but it's not as if she wouldn't destroy it simply because I joined her ranks. NO. I think harshly. My dream fades and I wake, bolt upright in cold sweat.
Most days, after I wake up, I think: I should write horror novels. However, sadly, I have ADHD and dyslexia and I don't even know how to spell dislecksia?(dyslexia)and don't have the attention span to look it up. And I don't even know what ADHD means. Something about HD movies? Today, was no different, except for the four vampires I found glowering at me as I awoke from my deep slumber. What's-his-face-tour-guide, old-guy-in-black-robe-with-weird-pendant-who-defies-vampire-physics-by-not-being-remotely-attractive, sadistic-twelve-year-old-girl, and some-other-guy-that-looks-kinda-like-her. Anyway, I stared at them. The only non-glowerer would be my vampire lover, Damien, otherwise known as What's-his-face-tour-guide.
I attempted to control my breathing, but my heartbeat was a lost cause.
"This is her?" asks the man in black (MIB, from now on), unimpressed.
"I happen to be gorgeous," I say, miffed. "At least prettier than her." The twelve-year-old looks at me like every nerve in my body should be on fire, but I don't feel a thing. "What's that supposed to do?"
MIB strokes his chin. "Interesting. Jane's power does not work on her."
Damien gazes upon me like I'm his whole world, and I find myself missing Paul. "Yes, you are gorgeous..." I eye him. Eh, you're okay.
"Touch my hand," orders MIB, and I eye the wrinkled pale thing, disgusted. He wants me to touch that? Achoo! Sorry, I'm allergic to bullshit.
"Um, no thanks," I decline. Politely. Ish.
"Touch it!" he commands. This must sound soooo much like a rape scene to anyone listening in.
"No! Non! Όχι! Εγώ δεν θα αγγίξει αυτό το πράγμα! Είναι αηδιαστικό! Αποκτήστε το μακριά από μένα! (No! I will not touch that thing! It's disgusting! Get it away from me!)" I hiss, my black eyes glowering. I'd unknowingly switched from English-French-Greek.
MIB sneers. "I know all those languages. What's disgusting about it?" I smile sheepishly. Oh, everything. But I will not let him touch my hand. It's probably a special ability that allows him to do horrible things to me. I get a brilliant lightbulb moment.
I breathe, letting in a sigh of oxygen, and letting him think I'd almost given in, but exhaling love mist-my word for making everyone in a given area fall in love with you. At least temporarily.
All of their eyes changed, brightened, like the darkness was expelled. Maybe all I did was make them like me? No such luck, I realize, as fists start banging on the doors, demanding to be let in to see their beloved.
What the fuck have I done?