Spellbound
I appreciate all of the reviews that ya'll have given me and this story. I thank you all so very much for the alerts and the favorites. I have received some mean guest reviews and I have deleted them. I didn't want to have to moderate the guest reviews but I am because some people are rude. I can understand if you don't like the way the story's going but why nitpick every single chapter? Every single word? If I don't like a story, I don't read it. I don't insult the writer and I don't leave rude and snide comments because I believe that it's about respecting others. Anyway, sorry for the rambling that I've done.
I hope that those of you that enjoy the story enjoy this chapter and since I'm snowed in, I'll probably post at least three more chapters if I can proof read everything in time.
Compton watched the Northman as he strode to his car. The smile on his face was smug and infuriating. He looked as if he was the king of the world and that everyone owed him their fealty. He hated seeing that egotistical prick smiling. If André had only been strong enough, he could've destroyed the Viking tonight. He wouldn't have to wait.
"He thinks he runs the fucking world," Compton mumbled. "It'll all come crashing down soon enough."
He perked up a little when he saw Gervais approaching the Northman. There was no reason for him to be talking with the Northman. What could they possibly have to talk about? They've never really been what one would call friends; if vampires have friends. They don't run in the same circles. They have absolutely nothing in common. He hoped that Gervais was going against André behind his back. André could have him killed and then Compton would hold the position as head of security. He'd be André's right hand man. He would be the one that took care of anything that André needed taken care of.
Compton continued to watch as the two vampires laughed and talked. He wondered what they were talking about. "There's only one way to find out," he said as he pressed the button to let down the car window.
As soon as he did, the Northman offered Gervais a seat in his car. The laughter and the talking had ceased completely. Compton laughed. Soundproof; they all have soundproof cars and the Viking is no fool. He's no one's fool except for that faery bride of his. André seemed to really dislike her.
Hell, he has nothing but contempt for her, he thought.
He did find that odd. Everyone that came in contact with her seemed to fall at her feet. They seemed to think that she'd personally hung the moon and the stars. André told him of how she could make the coldest vampire melt with a single smile or a glance. She has wrapped every vampire that she's ever med around her finger; everyone but André.
"They fall at her fucking feet," he snarled.
Though he couldn't show it, Compton was intrigued by her. He'd never tell anyone but he couldn't wait to see what was so special about her. He had never had the pleasure of meeting her but now, here in New Orleans he was finally going to have his chance. Since he holds no position in the vampire community, he's never been to the vampire summits or any of the fancy shindigs. He knew all of the right vampires but he is nobody. He stared at Eric's car and anger filled him.
His body was seething with hate for the Northman. "Everything is always handed to him," Compton said to the empty car. "Eric doesn't have to fight for anything; position, wealth, beautiful women … a powerful and stunningly beautiful woman from what I've heard. Everything he's ever wanted has been handed to him … everything."
He couldn't help but think of how fucked up his undead life has been. He's always been the lackey; the procurer. He's always been the one that has to do the dirty work. If no one wants to get their hands dirty, they call him. With that call, comes the promise of status; status that he's yet to see but this time, he was smart about it. It's going to be easy for him this time. He deserved it. He'd never had it easy; not even when he was alive. His thoughts instantly went to the night that his life changed forever.
He was coming home from fighting in a useless war and he was more than ready to see his wife and children. He needed to see joy. He needed to feel love. He needed to feel alive again. He was tired of being in the presence of death. He'd seen too much of it. He'd seen too many of his friends die. He'd killed too many men. He didn't want to know the stink of war or death anymore. He was sick of the stench of blood. He was done with the fighting and the killing. He just wanted to go home.
During the battles of war, his thoughts stayed with his family. The memories of them kept him sane. They kept him human. He couldn't wait to run his fingers through his wife's beautiful brown hair. He couldn't wait to look into her beautiful and dreamy hazel colored eyes. And his children; he couldn't wait to see his children. William Jr. was about to turn six and Caroline was going to be three. He couldn't wait to see them. Becoming a father was his greatest accomplishment. They were the best things he'd ever done.
The thoughts of his family made him quicken his pace. He knew that they would be in bed when he made it home but that didn't matter. He wouldn't wake them. He would look in on them as they slept. He would stand over them and listen to them as they breathe. He would go to his wife and kiss the sweetest lips he's ever known. He'll wrap himself in her warmth and hold her as she sleeps. Tonight, he was going to bask in the beauty of home.
Tomorrow morning, he would have his reunion with his children. William Jr. would recognize him but baby Caroline, she wouldn't know him at all. She was just a baby when he had to go away. He was sure that his sweet Isabella had told her about him; shown her pictures of her daddy. His smile broadened as he pictured the faces of his joy, his happiness and his reason for living … his family.
Just as he passed the Stackhouse Dry Goods Store, he saw her. The woman was crouched down on the ground and she appeared to be shivering. He could hear her quiet sobs fill the blackened night. He couldn't clearly see her but he could see that the woman was terrified.
Taking off his hat and holding it to his chest, Compton slowly walked towards her. "Ma'am," he called to her. "Are you alright? Do you need some help?"
She jumped at the sound of his voice. She pushed her body against the building as if to shield herself from his touch. She whimpered loudly.
He kneeled down and placed his hat on the dirt road. With his hands out by his side, he did his best to reassure the woman. "I'm not going to hurt you, ma'am. I'm a confederate soldier. I'm an honorable man and I will do nothing to hurt you. I only want to help you. I promise."
She looked up at him. The hood of her cloak fell from her head; exposing to him a head full of curly brown hair and the most hypnotizing pair of brown eyes he'd ever seen.
He took a step back; almost falling to the ground. He saw something in her eyes that scared him. Once he'd gathered his bearings, he asked, "Your eyes. What's wrong with your eyes? What are you?"
"I'm hurt," she whispered. "Those men …" Her body began to shake again as she thought of what the men tried doing to her. She could see that the nice southern gentleman pitied her. Her body was wracked with grief … or so he believed.
He looked into the dark alley and saw the silhouettes of their bodies on the ground. He knew that they weren't sleeping. Those men were dead. And from the way they looked, those men wouldn't be trying to hurt anyone else.
"Here," he said as he reached for her. "Let me help you. Take my …."
Before he could finish his sentence, he was looking into the eyes of the very death that he was running from. Once she had him in the alley and lying on his back, she leaned over him; tracing her long nail alongside his cheek. The tip of her finger was resting on his lips.
"Are you afraid?" she asked him. She closed her eyes and inhaled as she basked in the sweet scent of his fear. The sound of his heart beating rapidly in his chest was music to her ears. With her eyes still closed, she said, "Yes. You're afraid."
Though her cold touch caused him to shiver, he answered her. "I am not afraid. Are you going to kill me?" Compton stared at her evil smile and into her dead eyes. She was radiant. Her skin was paler than he'd ever seen and she was beautiful. She was also frightening.
"I might," she whispered. "I haven't quite decided yet what I'm going to do with you. You're not like the others. There's something about you and I think I want it for myself. I'm thinking about keeping you." She said the last sentence with finality.
He shook his head no. "You can't keep what isn't yours. I have a wife and two children. I have a family. I want no other. Please, let me go. I only want to go home."
"Honorable," she said. "I haven't seen that in a man in quite some time."
Suddenly, her slim, cold fingers were wrapped around his neck. She showed him her fangs. He began thrashing his head back and forth; trying to keep her from biting him. He tried getting her off of him but his efforts were less than futile. Her vicious teeth sank into the smooth flesh of his neck.
He roared out in fear and pain. Coldness and death began to ravage him. Death started to take over his body, inch by inch. With each pull of his blood, he could feel himself dying. Darkness closed in on him and his mind went to his family; Isabella, William Jr. and baby Caroline. Their smiles filled his memories. The smell of Isabella's hair after the rain soothed the pain of death. The feel of her touch made it more bearable. Within seconds, the darkness enveloped him.
His screams awakened him. He could hear his heartbeat fading. He could feel the life oozing from his veins. He did not welcome death.
"Quiet yourself," the woman hissed. "It's not as bad as you're making it out to be. I went through it and if I can recall correctly, I didn't scream nearly as much as you've done." Laughing, she added, "And you're supposed to be a 'confederate soldier'."
After his screams were silenced and his thrashing had stopped, he realized that she was right. He wasn't screaming from the pain. He wasn't screaming out because of fear. He was screaming because he's dying. He's dying and he'll never see his sweet Isabella again. He'll never hear William Jr.'s giggles. He'll never experience Caroline being a daddy's girl.
The woman tilted her head and stared at her victim. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Lorena. Hmmm," she said. "I can't seem to remember my last name. It's been so long ago. I've had to use so many different first and last names. Lorena might not even be my real name. Oh, well, we'll get past that," she said. "I have a proposition for you."
Being the southern gentleman that he is, Compton growled at the woman. "Fuck you and your proposition. I'm not interested in anything that you have to offer me."
She was as giddy as a schoolgirl. "We'll do the fucking later but the proposition is that I can make you better. I can make everything better. Do you want that? Do you want the pain of death to stop?"
More than anything, he wanted to scream. Every part of his body ached to be free of death. He wanted the pain to stop but he wasn't going to ask her to make it stop. He'd just have to suffer through it; no matter how excruciating the pain was.
"I'd rather die," he answered weakly.
She knew how to get him to change his mind. She knew how to get what she wanted from him. "I can make it so that you can see your sweet Isabella one last time. Would you like that?"
Slowly, his head turned in her direction. "How do you know my wife?"
"You've been calling out to her since I brought you to my home," Lorena confessed. "I can tell that you love her. You love her more than you love yourself. It's so evident. I can see it in your fading eyes. Your soon to be dead heart beats her name. Do you want to see her or not?"
"I do," he whispered.
"Say it," she ordered. "Say that you want my help. Say that you want me to set your mind and body free of its human restraints. Say that you want a life that will give you freedoms that you've never imagined and I'll let you see her one last time. All you have to say is that you want it."
He squeezed his eyes closed and winced. He didn't want anything from this monster. He didn't want her help but he needed it. He wanted to see his family. He's always said that he'd do anything to see his family but would he do this? Could he do this? Could he give the monster what she wanted from him? Would he be able to beg the woman that has tried killing him to save him?
"You're dying," she growled. "Tell me now what you want to do. Do you want to live or do you want to die? If you die, you will die never being able to see your beloved Isabella ever again."
He did what he didn't want to do. "I want to live," he said barely above a whisper.
Lorena raised her wrist to her mouth and bite into her flesh. Blood flowed.
"What are you doing?" he asked as he tried moving away from her.
"Drink," she ordered.
"No!"
"Drink," she growled at him.
He didn't want to but he had to. When he saw the blood flowing from the open wound on her arm, something took over him. Before he knew it, he'd latched on to her wrist and began drinking. He gulped down every drop of blood that flowed into his mouth. He even regretted missing the drops that flowed from the corners of his mouth. He wanted more and more and more. Before he knew it, the wound closed and the flow had stopped. And soon, so did his heart.
Needless to say, Lorena didn't keep her promise. He never saw his family again. He never heard the sounds of William Jr. giggling and he never got to experience Caroline being a daddy's girl. He never smelled the rain in Isabella's hair and he never touched her again and it was all because of his maker. It was all because of Lorena.
The sound of Eric's slamming car door brought him back to reality. He watched as Gervais got out of the car and Eric drove away. Compton slammed his fist against the steering wheel of his car. He never got the chance to see his wife again but Northman will. He'll never feel the warmth of his wife again but Northman will. He doesn't get to live the life of happiness that has been afforded to Northman. He hasn't been able to live the privileged life that Northman has lived for so long but not for long. He was going to get everything that he deserved.
Driving off just a few minutes after Eric, Compton's mind was occupied with one thing and one thing only.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly and said, "André's right. He's had it too easy and he's falling under the spell of the faery; just like me when I had my Isabella but no more. Things are about to change for you, Eric. It's time for you to know what real suffering is."