The Changer, The Charmer 4
Summary: Their mate was delivered to them in the midst of violence and blood, with a dire warning to boot.
Bella/Tanya, Kate, Irina
Isabella woke up with a throbbing headache. It took her a moment to realize she did not recognize the room or the bed she was laying in. She took a sniff of the room, humans. Isabella knew she could not ascertain more until she left the room. She did not need to try the door to know it was locked. She smiled as if a locked door could stop her. Hell, the window was wide open. Humans were easily dealt with, and the bond with her family was still strong. They'd be there for her the moment she needed them. It was more than likely they were already there. After all, there was the Order, desperate to use her for their own gain. Right now, she needed information, so she stayed put.
The footsteps leading to the door were loud, she could never live with humans. She was so used to vampires and the barely-there sound they made when they moved. The door to the bedroom opened. In came a young girl with a men's dress shirt and trousers. She smiled not at the girl, not that it would have helped because the young lady avoided eye contact. Well, that move alone said it all. It was the Order. They knew of her ability to charm even the most contrarian of people. Now it was imperative that she stayed and learned as much as possible after this was something she wanted. It was not as though she was in any real danger; they wanted to use her, not kill her. Even better, they had answers to questions she had.
"Please get dressed and join my master in the dining room." The girl's voice was barely above a whisper and had Isabella been human, she would not have heard a word of it.
"And what if I refuse." She threw it out because why not. She young lady looked so panicked, so much so that Isabella felt sorry for her.
"Calm down, I was simply jesting," Isabella mumbled. She squeaked and whirled around when Isabella stripped out of her torn clothes right in front of her. She chuckled in response but said nothing.
"Hello, Isabella." The man sat at the head of the most ostentatiously large dining table and stood up in greeting. At least he was a gentleman if you discounted the kidnapping. "Please, join me." He pulled out a chair for her. Isabella took the seat with a nod.
"I'm sorry for the elaborate actions it took to get you here, but with your family…" The word was uttered with such disdain. Isabella bit the inside of her cheek to reign in her anger. "I was left with little choice." She ignored him and poured herself a glass of water. She drained it in seconds and poured herself another.
"Yes, the potion does make one rather thirsty. A little more, and you'd die of thirst in mere minutes, although I do not believe that applies to you." Ahh, yes, this was the point where she was supposed to ask what he meant. After all, he had mentioned the potion's ability to kill and said it did not apply to her. Of course, she would have asked if she knew nothing of her powers.
He waited for her to ask but realized none was forthcoming. "Do you have any questions?" She smiled internally at his frustration. Clearly, she was not playing the game as expected. "I know you must have questions, and I will answer them all." He lit a cigar, much to her annoyance. "About who you truly are. Why we went through all this trouble to get to you, and what role you play in the world's future. A world you have the power to help shape." Isabella clasped her hands on her lap to keep from breaking the condescending nincompoop's neck.
"And what if I have no interest in any of that." She retorted with an air of nonchalance.
"I find it perplexing that you have no desire to know who you truly are. You are so much more than what you see before you. Despite your words, you are still here. It is obvious there is something you want the answer to. " He sat forward, blowing his cigar smoke in her face.
"Now, there is the question I have been waiting for you to ask." Isabella smiled and stood inspecting the painting behind her. "I don't know how many young women you've drugged and kidnapped in your lifetime. But I'd hazard a guess and say they do not wake up in a strange bed simply accepting of their circumstances. One would expect an escape attempt when the young lady walked into the bedroom and left the door open. One would expect questions to be asked. Where they were? What they were doing there? How they got there? Who the young lady was? The obligatory the what, the where the who, and the how. It would be done in some hysterical fashion with either threats or pleading depending on who they were. Yet, here I am, a kidnapped girl, who supposedly has no idea who you are, yet calm and congenial. That surely should have set alarm bells ringing. But then again, you have always failed to see the bigger picture, haven't you,… uncle Cyril." Isabella finished turning back to face her kidnapper. He looked as stunned as she expected. The man was the spitting image of her father, his twin. It hurt to look at him, knowing that he was nothing like her father despite his looks. No, Cyril Swan was a poor imitation of his older brother.
Just then, several thuds were heard in quick succession, and suddenly a stranger seemingly appeared from thin air to Lord Cyril Swan at least. Whose cigar hung limply from between his fingers.
"Hello, darling." Kate sang as she kissed Isabella with a little too much tongue as Cyril continued to stare in disbelief.
"So?" Isabella asked. She hoped her family would still implement their plan, despite the earlier than expected kidnapping.
"They are all gathered, waiting for your uncle here to talk you into joining the Order of the Masonite. Tanya, Irina, and Eleazar are keeping an eye on them. Carmen and Marcus standing guard outside. You will not be interrupted." Katrina chuckled. The cigar dropped from Cyril's fingers, but Isabella was quick to catch it before it left a mark on the table. Cyril Swan came to the realization that the noise he heard was his men hitting the floor. The Order was giving him all the time he needed to persuade his niece, so no one would come looking for him anytime soon.
"Oh uncle, as you are about to learn, you are at a great disadvantage. Again, this is a lack of foresight on your part. A trait I learned is one of your many flaws. Yes, I know exactly who I am, who you are, and I have waited for this moment for quite some time." Her warm brown eyes turned a cold arctic blue to prove her point. Where it not for Katrina, Cyril Swan would have fallen out of his chair. "As I said, I know exactly who I am." She growled, making every effort to erase any notion she was human.
She turned her attention to her mate. "So, we know who the members of Order are?" Isabella asked.
"Yes, Lord Clayborne's list of suspected members was correct, just shy of four names," Katrina answered as she took a seat next to her mate.
"They left…" Isabella raised her hand, halting whatever he had to say.
"In truth, you moved a little earlier than we were expecting, and I will admit until you send the young lady into the room, I wasn't sure if it was the Order that had me kidnapped… not that it mattered. What your spies failed… I think the less information I impart, the better for you." Isabella's voice trailed off. "Now, I need you to answer one question, that is all I need from you." Isabella stared at her uncle, who stared back in shock. "Why are you so surprised by me? You knew I was a changer and a charmer, why else did the young lady avoid my eye."
"We didn't think you were aware of your power… we were hoping the idea of it and our ability to bring it forth would sway you to join the Order." Cyril Swan answered monotonously as fear had gripped every fiber of his being. He was a somewhat intelligent man and knew what Isabella's knowledge meant for them. She didn't need him and more than likely knew the part he played in her parents' death. Life from that moment forward was about to be very different if he lived long enough to experience it.
"Now, what part did you play in my parent's death? And there it was." The tears that ran down Cyril's face were for no one but himself.
A FEW WEEKS EARLIER
"Incredible, this is truly incredible." Lord Clayborne muttered in awe. He was staring at himself; Isabella had just shifted to look like him.
"Incredible, this is truly incredible." She repeated. It had taken some time, but she had learned she could imitate the voice of whomever she shifted into. It made the illusion complete. Lord Clayborne let out a delighted laugh.
"You have no idea how delighted I was when Marcus came to see me. Until that moment, I truly believed the Order had gotten to you somehow. I stayed in England despite the danger to make sure they didn't have you. After Marcus' visit, I left knowing you were safe, but you should know they…"
"...are watching you. We are aware, and hopefully, that will work well in our favor." Eleazar interjected.
"Did you know my parents?" Isabella asked.
"You have his eyes." Lord Clayborne whispered. "Though I was his lawyer, he was a good friend, your father. He was loyal, but not so much as to become a fool." Lors Clayborne sighed. "Isabella, why are you here. You've made it clear you want to be seen, but for what purpose?"
"They killed my parents and sullied the name of Agnes Hill, who died protecting me. Marcus showed me the wanted posters, Lord Clayborne." He grited his teeth at that. Indeed, Agnes Hill had been blamed for the actions for the Order.
Call me Phillip. Your father has a younger twin brother, Cyril. I could not prove it, but I believe he was instrumental in the death of Charles and Renee." Nothing could have prepared Isabella for that. The silence that descended in the room perfectly encapsulated the feeling that revelation
brought. "Cyril Swan is a waste of a man that does not deserve the shirt on his back. Their father defied convention and divided everything between his two boys equally. Cyril, in less than seven years, had squandered every penny. Just so you understand the gravity of just how incompetent Cyril is with money. His father's estate was worth nearly six million pounds. Cyril got half of that, all money in hand, after he sold his share in the family company to Charles. Charles tried talking him out of it, but Cyril is incapable of seeing beyond the obvious." Lord Clayborne got up and poured himself a drink.
"Worse, it was revealed that Cyril had quite a number around the gambling of the country. Charles paid it all off, and Cyril kept gambling and losing until Charles said no more."
"I really was hoping your story would go down a different path," Tanya whispered.
"Well, unfortunately, his plan didn't quite have the ending he hoped it would. A few years after met Renee an accident left him with the distinct possibility of not being able to bear children. Knowing that Cyril will inherit everything upon his death, Charles put a great number of stipulations in place. It effectively left Cyril with very little disposable income. His bills are paid by the executor of Charles' estate, and he earns a stipend of fifteen pounds a month. Of course, all that would change if Cyril had children, and he did. The stipend increased significantly, but the money went to Cyril's wife, Abigail. You can imagine the shock when he found out." Lord Clayborne finished with a laugh.
"I'm sorry, how does he earn a stipend when he has no employment to speak off." Eleazar asked angrilly. As far as he was concerned, Cyril Swan did not deserve a penny.
"He is the face of the family's company, and I will admit he does a rather good job of it. It is also why he does not fight Charles' will. He cannot afford for the public to know that, in effect, he has nothing. I believe the Order funds his lifestyle because, without him, questions would be asked when you suddenly turned up. Even then I don't believe it's enough as far as Cyril is concerned. Charles' stipulation really helps Abigail and the boys. Charles is off the same thinking, his brother deserves nothing."
"So the wife and kids have no knowledge of Cyril's actions?" Isabella asked.
"No. If Abigail had a choice, she would leave. Legally, the money Abigail gets from the estate… well, she is only entitled to it because she is married to Cyril. She is married to a drunken, gambling philanderer but has two boys to worry about so…."
"Right," Isabella murmured, her thoughts occupied. "Who is the executor of the estate?" She asked after a beat.
"Ahh, that brings me to the only good news in all of this. The executor is your maternal uncle, Jules." Lord Clayborne could not contain his smile. "Yes, your mother had a large family. Your grandparents are still alive. You have quite a few uncles and aunties and several cousins. With your permission, I would like to send them a message…
"Yes, go ahead." For the first time that night, Isabella smiled, much to her family's relief.
"I hate to dampen this suddenly jovial mood, but you do realize English law been what it is, you cannot change your father's will," Eleazar muttered.
"The executor of my father's estate is my uncle… I'm sure I can bring round to my way of thinking." Isabella waved away the concern. "Especially if dear uncle Cyril is out of the way."
"Now, I would advise you tell as tell them as little as possible about your gifts and the Order. Cyril killing his brother and wife for their money works well for all involved."Now, as for been seen, I believe your family can really aid you in that. After all, you are their long-lost grandchild, and they would want to show you off. Naturally, you came to Paris because uncle Cyril couldn't be trusted. Your timing is rather perfect; the social season is in a few days. I can think of no better way to introduce you to the ton." Lord Clayborne advised.
"Indeed," Carmen muttered. "Are you alright, dear?" She ran her fingers through Isabella's hair.
"I'll be alright, mama," Isabella mumbled, settling down next to her.
"One more thing, it would help a great deal if you were somewhat shorter."
"Agreed." She mumbled, coming down to a height between Katrina and Irina.
Lord Clayborne had insisted they stay with him. The man was rather astute. Despite never having made it obvious, he dropped just hints to indicate he was well aware Isabella wasn't the only supernatural creature in the room. The comment had gotten a chuckle out of all of them.
They'd picked the bedroom on the uppermost floor; it gave them a good view of the city. She could see so much of the city of Montpellier despite the darkness. "Isabella." Tanya placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I understand why he didn't tell me about my family, but even if I couldn't see them. I still would have liked to know they existed," Isabella whispered.
"Do you truly believe you could have stayed away had you known the truth?" Tanya asked. If Isabella was honest with herself, she knew she would not have stayed away. While her head understood Lord Clayborne's reasons, her heart was still angered by the decision taken on her behalf.
Tanya, as though knowing exactly what her mate was thinking, halted her thoughts. "His decisions regarding you is what kept you out of the hands of the Order and your greedy uncle." Isabella's shoulders dropped, and Tanya knew she had gotten through to her mate.
"Thank you," Isabella muttered, her eyes still on the city.
She would admit that she did not expect so many of them to turn up. It was somewhat overwhelming but so welcomed. "It's you." The older woman looked so much like her mother, her blue eyes sparkled with joy, the same blue eyes of her mother.
"It is. Forgive me, I had no knowledge of you until recently. I would have come sooner had I known." Isabella smiled as her grandmother took her face in her hands.
"You are here now." She cried, her English tinged with a thick French accent. "Come, come, let me introduce you to ta famille." Isabella found her grip quite firm for her age.
"Ma Belle, you were a surprise and continue to be so." Her grandfather choked voice murmured.
Not everyone in the family spoke English, and it came as quite a surprise when Isabella responded in French. Her grandmother's name was Marie-Jeanne, her grandfather was Pierre. Her mother had eleven siblings. The oldest was a grandfather himself. Her grandparents were also great-grandparents to four children. Renee's family was very wealthy in their own right. Isabella found herself inundated with extravagant gifts. One of those gifts was a chateau, which by law she wasn't allowed to own, but wealth and power said a lot.
Eventually, she got introduced to the maternal side of her family, to the family that saved, protected, nurtured, and loved her.
"We owe you a great deal of dept." Her grandfather said, shaking hands with the vampires; if he felt their cold rock-like skin, he didn't show it.
"No, the pleasure was ours," Eleazar answered. With humans, it was best to let Eleazar take the lead.
Vampires were adept at lying, and Eleazar fielded the questions from her family brilliantly. Most of it was the truth, but it still made Isabella feel uncomfortable.
"I want the manor to go to Abigail and the boys, they are innocent of this. They need not suffer because of Cyril's actions."
"That can only happen if Cyril is either dead or in jail for the death of your parents. Abigail and the boys can never own the manor as long as he's alive. If I gave them any more money, Cyril would not keep quiet any longer." Isabella was not surprised by what Jules had to say. She had expected as much.
"I have much to ponder," Isabella murmured as she sat back. The truth was, she knew she didn't have to do much; the Order would come for her the minute she was presented to Parisian society.