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artificialimaginationxo · 13 years ago

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WHAT FATES IMPOSE: Chapter Eight. (Original Work)

So they are some kind of blood-drinking cult?” “Oh, they are most certainly blood drinkers, Miss Little. But they are no cult.”

When Rhiannon Little was young, her father was running for mayor. The night of the election, he committed suicide. Many years later, while looking through boxes of her father’s things, Rhi comes across some mysterious papers locked away in a trunk. As she looks through this new evidence, it becomes clear - her father was murdered by a group of people he’d discovered who wished to remain a secret. With Rhi trying to gain more information about this secret society, could she be putting herself in danger? And what, exactly, had her father meant by calling them ‘vampires’?

A story about family, vampires, secret societies and murder. The NaNoWriMo draft of my novel.

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The next morning came far too quickly. Rhi barely felt like she’d slept an hour before her alarm went off, telling her it had already been seven. She groaned and hit the ‘snooze’ button, rolled over and hit the floor, knees-first.

“Ouch,” she murmured, and patted the head of an angry Fraulein, who had been sleeping beside the bed and had very nearly been fallen on. Rhiannon got to her feet and glanced at her sister, who was still sleeping peacefully. After a quick trip to the closet to pick up some jeans, a long white tank and black sleeveless vest, she went to the bathroom and took a quick shower, one that was steaming hot. After getting out, she changed into her clothes, brushed her hair and pinned half of it back with a clip. After brushing her teeth and spritzing on some water lily and fresh berry scented body spray, she put on a light layer of makeup. And then she went back to her room, slipped on a pair of black heels, and after throwing on a black faux leather jacket and a few long gold chain necklaces, she was ready to go.

And then she had to focus on the fact that she had been avoiding thinking about the place she was going. The reality was, she was going to some secret headquarters for a secret society that may have been responsible for the death of her father, and no one knew she was going there. In fact, right now no one knew she was going anywhere.

Once she was downstairs, Rhi took a moment to write a note and stick it on the fridge where her grandmother would find it.

Grandma Judith and Grandpa Gerold –

I’m sorry, I have to miss work today. I have a fever. I’m going to Wendy’s so I don’t get you guys sick. I’ll be back later.

- Rhiannon

She wasn’t sure if that was the cleverest lie – why would she just go to Wendy’s for the day if she was worried about making her grandparents sick, for example – but it was the best she could come up with this early in the morning. With that done, she headed out the door and began walking towards the park.

It took a lot longer walking in heels then it has jogging the other day, and it didn’t exactly keep her warm. She stuck her hands in the jacket pockets, and was grateful to find a black knitted cap she’d put there the last time she had worn this jacket. She slipped it on, then zipped up her jacket and stuck her hands deep into the pockets. Still, the cold nipped at her nose and cheeks like little icicles clinging to her face.

The heels of her shoes clicked against the pavement in almost as steady a rhythm as her running had been, only the steps were softer. She felt a bubble of nerves in her stomach and was terrified of what, exactly, was going to happen once she reached the park.

However, when she reached the park, it was just as empty as it always was. Nothing terrible seemed to be awaiting her, not even when she reached the bench across for the swing set. Victor was nowhere to be found. Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? Was he getting backup to take her prisoner somewhere? Or had his group refused to let her visit, and stopped him from coming altogether?

Again with the paranoia. Just because a secret society had murdered her father and she was about to meet the secret society that worked against the first one didn’t mean there was danger around every corner.

Then again…how did that saying go? Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you?

Rhi sighed and took a seat on the cold bench, and winced when she felt that it was a little wet. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against her fingers. She felt so tense all the time, and now she felt an added heat behind her eyes. Maybe she really was getting sick.

“Bagel?” came Victor’s voice. In confusion, Rhiannon looked up at him. He held a napkin out, with a sesame seed bagel on it and a smear of cream cheese on top of the bagel. He also held a cup of coffee in the other hand.

“If I have a choice, I’ll take the coffee,” muttered Rhi, standing up. She took her hands out of her pockets and rubbed them together, wishing she had brought some gloves.

“They’re both yours,” said Victor, handing them towards her. “I have my own breakfast in the car.”

“The car?” asked Rhiannon uncertainly, accepting the bagel and coffee. She eagerly took a sip. Why hadn’t she thought of getting coffee before leaving the house?

Victor nodded, and turned and began walking away. Quickly, Rhiannon followed. “Yes,” he said, “We have a bit of a drive ahead of us. The headquarters for this state are a little further north.”

“How much further north?”

“About an hour.”

Rhiannon stopped. “An hour?”

Victor turned around, and raised an eyebrow at her. “Well…do you want answers, or not?”

“Of course I want answers…but an hour to drive there?”

“Do you trust me?” asked Victor.

Rhi had hoped this question wouldn’t be asked. She didn’t really want to explore her feelings for him any more than she had to. She felt that strong attraction for him, the almost girlish crush. But that didn’t mean she trusted him. In fact, she probably ought to distrust him. That would be the safest decision.

But some things were worth risking her safety for. To solve the mystery of the death of her father was one of them.

“I don’t know yet,” she decided, her breath coming out in a while puff as she sighed. “I guess we’ll see.” She began walking forward again.

Victor nodded. “Fair enough. Maybe you’ll trust me after you hear was Luther has to say.”

“Like I said…we’ll see.”

---

His car was nice. Some fancy silver coupe that had been top-of-the-line about a year ago, with nice leather seats and a built-in GPS system shown on some sort of computer screen. He also had a nice sound system and a CD player, which was something she was very grateful for. He had a mix CD that was playing when they got into the car, and for the first ten minutes they heard the end of a Red Hot Chili Peppers song, then a whole All-American Rejects song, and half a Goo Goo Dolls song. By that time Rhi had finally finished her bagel, and was halfway done with her coffee. He’d finished his bagel a little quicker, and instead of sipping at his coffee constantly to avoid having to speak (like she was doing) he kept his hands on the wheel and eyes locked on the road. That was probably a bit safer.

But eventually, Rhiannon couldn’t take the silence anymore, especially since it felt a bit awkward mixed with her feelings for him. Her…crush.

“So,” she said suddenly, a little too loudly. “Is this the reason you came to Moonshire?”

Victor nodded. “They sent me here just to check on your family, see if you were getting close to figuring out what happened. They knew you still had most of the evidence left, and were waiting for you to get to it. It’s just chance that I happened to be here when it actually happened.”Rhi bit her lip for a moment, and then sipped her coffee. So it was just coincidence they’d sent the dreamy guy to her right after – wait.

“Hold on,” she said urgently, lowering the paper Ambrosia cup. “What do you mean, ‘most of the evidence’? Was there more?”

Victor swallowed and gripped the wheel a little tighter, looking a bit guilty. “Yeah. I kind of wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Rhiannon frowned, turning to face him. “Why not? Why can’t I know there was more evidence? And what happened to it?”

“It’s not my job to be telling you this…” sighed Victor, “But after your father’s death, we believe some of the evidence sent to your father was stolen back by the Consanguine Umbrae. Your father kept evidence in two different places.”

“How do you know that?”

“His assistant at the time was working for us.”

Rhiannon blinked. She remembered Mr. Jones. He’d been in a secret society the whole time? “Okay. What was this other evidence, then?”

“We’re not exactly sure what was taken. That’s partly what you can help us with.”

Rhi sighed. “Let me guess. Wait for Luther?”

“That’s your best bet.”

She sighed and leaned against the ridiculously comfortable seat. “So…are you really in marketing?”

“For the most part,” said Victor, shrugging. “I do some here and there, but mostly they used their connections to get me into it so I can travel to places we spot Consanguine Umbrae activity.”

“What is your group’s name, again?”

“Nex Luce.”

“Huh,” grunted Rhiannon. She glanced out the window, seeing trees that most of the world would consider ‘shrubs’ pass by. What was up with all the Latin? “So you just go wherever they tell you to?”

“Pretty much.”

“I guess that makes it difficult to see your family.”

“I don’t have any family.”

“Oh,” said Rhiannon, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m sorry. I remember you said your father was sick-”

“He was killed by the Consanguine Umbrae,” said Victor, glancing over at her. “Just like yours.”

Rhiannon raised her eyebrows. “I thought they only killed people by making it look like a suicide.”

“That’s a common way,” Victor said, shrugging. “But you’d be surprised how many people start figuring out about them. If they killed everyone that way, they’d have been discovered a long time ago. So they decided to slowly poison my father to death.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rhi again, feeling horrified by that idea. Standing my and watching someone you love slowly die…it was almost as bad as losing someone you loved so suddenly there was no chance to say goodbye. “So…what is it they do, exactly, besides try to stay a secret?”

Victor looked uncomfortable. “I think that’s something best left for-”

“Luther to explain,” sighed Rhiannon, leaning back in her seat and looking out the window. “Yeah.”

They drove in an uncomfortable silence for a while, before Victor sighed.

“Does this mean I’m not getting a coffee date?”

Rhi looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. Was he really still concerned about that? It was kind of…flattering.

“We’ll see what I think of your secret society,” said Rhiannon playfully, “And if I like it, we’ll make it a dinner date.”

Victor laughed. “Sounds fair.”

They pulled into a parking garage that was beside and decidedly unfabulous building. She had been picturing a cobblestone driveway and brick house with flowers, or maybe some tall glass building where they would have to take a secret elevator. But this was just an ugly brown building in a city, surrounded by other ugly brown office buildings. It was three stories tops, with normal black-frame windows and a revolving door. It in no way stood out – which, she supposed, was better for a headquarters of a secret society than anything fancy.

He parked his car and they got out, carrying what was left of their cold coffee (in Rhiannon’s case, it was less cold coffee and more a cold cup). They left the parking garage and went into the building. Inside it was even less extraordinary – there were a few plastic ferns, a wood desk with a secretary and some couches with an old, worn Persian rug that could probably use a good vacuum cleaning.

“Hey, Miss Holmes,” Victor greeted the tall blonde behind the desk. She was flipping through some celebrity gossip magazine or other, not paying much attention to what was going on around her…or at least, Rhi assumed that was why the phone was ringing, unanswered. She glanced up and gave Victor a forced smile.

“Good afternoon, Mister Sparks,” she responded, and without another word took the computer keyboard off of her lap and began typing. Then she opened a silver candy dish – and pressed a red button. Rhi jumped when the far wall that held a painting of a dog sleeping on a porch began sliding back and then to the side, revealing a large metal door.

“Whoa,” she said, grabbing onto Victor’s arm. “It is a super spy hideout, isn’t it?”

Victor laughed and rolled his eyes, and headed over to the door. She watched him punch of bunch of numbers quickly into the keypad, and then he opened the door. With a last nervous glance around the fake office, she followed him down a long, dark concrete staircase to another door, this time a normal one made of wood. He opened it and let her step inside first.

Now they were in a hallway, one that seemed to stretch forever in each direction, with doors places randomly throughout. In front of them was a painting, a plain one with a white background and the words ‘Nox Luce’ outlined in black. The carpet was a dark, blood red and the walls were white, but otherwise there was nothing to remark about the place.

Victor grabbed her wrist and led her down the hall to the left.

“Where are we going?” asked Rhiannon.

Victor glanced back at her. “To meet Luther. He’s probably in a meeting right now, so you’ll have to wait in the hall while I go let him know you’re here.”

“Oh. Okay.” She didn’t want to admit how nervous she suddenly felt, but she was sure he could feel it in the slight shake of her wrist. Her throat felt dry and she clung to the empty Styrofoam cup for dear life.

After a couple of minutes, they stopped in front of a large double door. Victor turned to her.

“Wait here,” he ordered, and then slipped into the room, opening and closing the door small and quick enough that she wouldn’t be able to see inside. She sighed, and then tried to suck the droplets of coffee out of her cup…but she had done that in the car, too. It was a useless effort…there was nothing left.

WHAM.

Rhiannon jumped and looked at the door down the hall behind her, where loud ‘thudding’ sounds were coming. She walked towards the room a bit and could hear grunting sounds. What on earth…?

She had always been a bit nosy. She cracked the door open and peeked inside.

Men and women were dressed in various exercise outfits, such as leotards with leggings or shorts and wife beaters or yoga clothes, and they all seemed to be in one big fight. As she watched, she realized they were sparring. A few were doing basic martial arts, others seemed to have combined it with gymnastics and were doing flips over each other and off the walls. Most were holding large wooden sticks. A couple people dressed all in white walked around the edges, shouting directions – ‘be more aggressive!’, ‘don’t back down!’, ‘get the heart, get the heart!’.

“What on earth…?” she mumbled. After a few more seconds of watching, she realized that once one sparring partner was struck in the chest by their opponent, they bowed and went off to the side to observe. But if they were hit in the leg, belly or even tapped on the head, they kept going. It was the strangest sort of sparring Rhi had ever seen. What did it mean?

Someone grabbed her shoulder suddenly, and she gasped and spun around, ready to sputter apologies, but it was just Victor.

“Oh, Victor, you scared me,” she laughed, shutting the door.

Victor wasn’t laughing. His eyes were dark, and his eyebrows low, giving him a very…angry expression.

“You were supposed to wait for me outside the door.”

"Oh,” said Rhi, glancing down the hall to where the double doors were. “I’m sorry. I heard sounds…”

“You shouldn’t have gone somewhere you weren’t invited. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Rhi shrugged. “So I guess you’re a little more spy than I thought, so what?”

Victor’s eyes narrowed, and it looked as though he was trying to figure out if she was telling the truth or not. “What did you see?”

“Just people sparring, with sticks. Could you explain-”

“Luther will see you now,” sighed Victor, wrapping an arm around her back and leading her down the hall. It would have been kind of sweet, if the tightness of his grip didn’t tell her he was holding her that tightly just to make sure she didn’t run off again. She felt a twinge of guilt, which she tried to shake off…she was here for answers, after all, and now more than ever it seemed that they intended to continue to keep secrets.

They reached the double doors, and he opened them to reveal a large, oval-shaped room with a long rectangular table, black leather chairs around the table, more red carpet, more ‘Nex Luce’ paintings in black and white and red, and a tall man with graying brown hair, a goatee and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. His mouth was set in a grim line and he wore very formal office clothing with a jacket and vest and gold-and-black striped tie. Everything was very serious, save for the fact that he was pouring tea. There were three teacups set out, precious ones that looked like they were made of fine porcelain with a royal-looking pattern of dark blue and gold, and a pattern of pink flowers on a white background between each blue and gold section. The base and handle of the cup was also gold, though around the bottom and inside the cups were white. They sat on similar smaller plates, and there was a silver tray with little sandwiches and biscuits and even blue macarons.

“Have a seat,” the elder gentleman said, pointing to the seat to the right of the head of the table. She gave a nervous glance to Victor, and then walked around the table to sit in the chair the man she assumed was Luther St. James was offering. Victor sat across from her, and Mister St. James took the seat between them at the head of the table.

Rhi looked down at her tea cup uncertainly. The liquid was pale purple and though it smelled divine, she wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t drugged or something. Besides…she far preferred coffee. And she was still awkwardly holding on to her Styrofoam cup.

Mr. St. James seemed to notice the latter issue, and picked up a silver bell she hadn’t noticed. Upon ringing it, a woman appeared – had she come in through the wall? Yes, there was yet another secret door…her previous disappointment of this place being normal had long since disappeared – and took both hers and Victor’s cups, and then disappeared again.

“Now then,” said Luther, clearing his throat. His voice was rather rough and had a hint of an accent. Maybe Scottish? “I hope you don’t mind plum tea, Miss Little. I used to drink four cups of Earl Grey a day but my doctor told me it wasn’t good for my heart.”

“It’s…fantastic,” she mumbled, not looking up for her teacup.

“Enchanting pattern, isn’t it?” commented Luther, watching her gaze.

“Oh, yes,” she said, smiling up at him. It was very pretty.

“It’s Regency Blue, from the year 1900. It’s one of my favorite patterns, and created in such a turbulent time. Edward had succeeded Queen Victoria, signaling the end of the Victorian era. Do you study history much, Miss Little?”

Rhiannon shook her head. “No, sir. Not much.”

“Fascinating times, you should look into them,�� he said, taking a sip from the steaming tea. “Won’t you try one of the sandwiches?”

Hesitantly, she reached for the one that looked the least intimidating. It was open-faced, on some sort of wheat bread with some spread and a slice of a strawberry on top. It tasted both naturally sweet and tart, with some sort of herbal bite. She concentrated on chewing to try and forget that Luther was watching her eat. Victor seemed intent to focus on stirring his tea.

She finally finished the sandwich and smiled at Luther St. James. “Thank you, it’s very good.”

He nodded with approval, and then sipped his tea. Once he set he cup down with a barely audible ‘clink’, he turned to her, folding his hands on the table.

“So you are here to find out more about the Consanguine Umbrae?”

She nodded. “Yes. And more about your group. For instance – if the majority of what you do is covert, why do you need to be trained in battle?”

His large brows rose slightly, and he turned to Victor, who seemed to suddenly choke on his tea. Rhi took the chance to try the tea while Luther wasn’t looking at her, and discovered it was pleasantly fruity and sadly lacking in caffeine.

“What does she mean by ‘battle’, Victor? What have you told her?”

Victor shrugged a little. “Not much, sir. She wandered in the hall and saw one of the sparring matches.”

“Yeah,” said Rhi, setting the cup down. The lack of caffeine was making her irritated. Or maybe it was just the secrecy on top of secrecy getting to her, when all this had quite a bit to do with her. “And why were they using sticks?”

Luther St. James’s hands seemed to shake a little as her turned back to her. “You saw that, did you?”

“Yes. I would also like to know more about the evidence my father had in his possession. Who sent it to him and why? Why did my father call them a cult, and vampires? And where is the other evidence that was stolen from his office?”

Mister St. James seemed impressed. “He wrote ‘vampires’, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have this evidence with you, then?”

“No. I left it hidden,” said Rhi, and in saying so was reminded of the figures she’d been seeing in her house ever since she started looking into the Consanguine Umbrae. “And is it possible that they could get into my house? And if so, how do they move so fast?”

Mister St. James held up a hand to stop her. “One question at a time, Miss Little. Which do you want answered first?”

She paused a moment, trying to decide what, exactly, should come first.

“Okay,” she sighed, playing with the handle of her cup. “What is it the Consanguine Umbrae do? They kill people when they get close to being discovered, but what secret are they hiding that’s worth murdering people for?”

She saw Victor look at Mister St. James with a concerned yet anxious look on his face, and she realized he was wondering if the man who was now carefully drinking his tea was going to tell her the truth.

“That’s quite a first question, Miss Little,” said Mister St. James, setting the cup down again. “You do not like to waste time, do you?”

“No, not really,” she admitted. “I’ve never had time to waste, so I don’t see the point in wasting my time or anyone else’s, I’d rather get straight to the point.” She hadn’t always been that way, admittedly. Was Gwen rubbing off on her more than she thought?

“I don’t like wasting time, either, Miss Little, we have that in common,” said Mr. St. James. He took in a slow, deep breath. “The truth is that your father wasn’t far off. In fact, he was entirely correct.”

Rhiannon was confused. “So they are some sort of cult? Like a blood-drinking cult?”

“Oh, they are most certainly blood drinkers, Miss Little. But they are no cult.”

“What do you mean?”

“They are vampires, Miss Little.”

Rhiannon snorted. “I’m sure that’s what they want to be called, but-”

“No, Miss Little,” said Mister St. James, speaking up. “They are real, true undead creatures that feed off of the blood of the living. They have powers beyond our imagining. And they would far prefer to keep themselves a secret, to live in shadows. That’s why they kill people that get too close to their secret. If they were exposed, it would be dangerous for them. But then…it would also be dangerous for us.”

Rhi blinked, then looked from Mister St. James to Victor. And then back again. Were they crazy? Was this group just a bunch of crazies? Or were they joking? Or trying to trick her for some reason? Perhaps it was some sort of intelligence test…

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked them both, trying to figure out the situation. They both shook their heads.

“No. Vampires are quite real, Miss Little. And they may be coming for you next.” Mister St. James stood suddenly and backed from the table. “We’ll have to come back to our tea later, I see. Please follow me, Miss Little. I’ll show you what you need to see.”

Rhiannon looked at Victor, not wanting to go away, but a moment later she figured that if they wanted her dead, they could kill her anywhere down here and no one would ever find her. Coming here hadn’t been a very wise decision, after all.

But Victor stood as well, apparently intending to follow them. At the very least, she trusted Victor to not let her die. She stood as well, and let them lead her out of the room and further down the hall. They went through a door on the left, and down yet another dark set of stairs. At the bottom of this, Mister St James flipped a switch to turn on a light.

The room appeared to be a large library, with bookshelves filled with books and the walls lined with filing cabinets and yet more paintings on the walls, only these were of people and some were lined up to be flipped through, like her sister used to do with the posters at Walmart. The light was dim but bright enough to read by, and again the carpet was blood red. Now she wondered if that was a choice based on what they believed their enemy to be rather then just liking the color red a lot.

St James led her to a place where they could flip through the paintings. In the first one was a woman with waist-length black hair, pale skin and green eyes.

“Victor, show her some of these while I bring some of our files,” he said, and then turned and walked away. Victor turned the painting.

The next was of the same woman, only in a very different style. He flipped through the next three, all of them paintings of the same woman with drastically different artistic styles. “We believe this woman to call herself Envy,” he said, pointing to a part of the painting where the word ‘Envy’ was written, along with the authors name and the year ‘1925’. Flipping back through, he pointed at the word ‘Envy’ repeating, and she noted the change in dates. “She may be a vampire created in the late seventeen hundreds.”

“So she had someone paint these and stick the wrong dates on them,” she said, shrugging.

Victor walked to a nearby filing cabinet, opened it and then reached in and pulled out some paperwork. He came back and showed her the papers, and she glanced at them, and then looked back at him, confused.

“What are these?”

“They’re dating the paints and styles. They are from the years they claim to be.”

“So they were all inspired by each other.”

Mister St. James came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun in time to see him walking away, motioning for them to follow. They did, and he led them to a round table surrounded by bookshelves, with a few files spread across it.

“We believe the evidence that was stolen from you contain things such as these,” he said, motioning across the table. Hesitantly, Rhi took a seat and then reached for a file. She opened it and began looking through the squares of papers. These were all various bank statements made at various banks, with the usual 25,000 amount on it.

“I have ones that look like these,” she said, looking up at Victor and St. James.

“Take a closer look at the names,” suggested Victor. She sighed and looked back down, and noticed some of the names repeated on various statements. Especially a Mark Monroe.

She looked back up. “So they send money a lot.”

“Now look at the dates.”

With a sigh, Rhi looked at the dates. Her eyes slowly widened. Mark Monroe withdrew money in 1950, 1963, 1999. But he also appeared to have deposited money in 1876. “I guess they just kept the name Mark in their family…”

St James scoffed. “Why are you insisting on remaining blind to the truth?”

“She’s stubborn,” sighed Victor, taking a seat across from her. She watched as he opened yet another file and pushed it towards her. Inside this one were more photographs, only in these someone appeared to be having a conversation…with no one.

“They had headsets?”

“In the seventies?” asked Victor.

“Very well, we’ll pull out the hard evidence.”

Victor looked up at St. James in panic. “Do you think it safe…?”

“He’s trapped behind bars and crucifixes. He can’t get to her. And if he happens to escape…well, you and I will be there.”

Rhiannon felt herself go pale. “Wait…who can’t get to me?”

Victor stood from the table slowly, looking solemn. “A vampire we captured a few weeks ago. He’s…quite angry.”

Now she felt nervous. They had some weak evidence, but an actual vampire? She could understand them believing the way all the bits of the evidence they had gathered together could possibly connect to vampires, but how on earth could they convince themselves a regular human being was a vampire?

Forget nervous. She felt sick. They were keeping some soul locked away because they had themselves convinced he was a vampire. It was sick. What had she gotten herself into? And how could she get out of here alive?

She was shaking when she stood, and she followed St James across the room, Victor behind her. Before having Victor near her had made her feel safer, but now she felt trapped between them. What if she had to run? How would she do that?

And how had they managed to convince all these people that the poor man she was about to see was a vampire?

They came to a metal door, which again required a code that St. James punched in. The door slid aside on it’s own, and in they walked into a dark room. Two men with large guns stood guard in front of a wall. Rhiannon swallowed, eyeing the guns carefully. She prayed more fervently than she had ever prayed before that she would make it out of here alive, and that she would find some way of rescuing the man they kept trapped here.

“Don’t vampires sleep during the day…?” she asked weakly, unsure of why she was speaking at all.

“No,” replied St. James. “That is a lie written by writers, one the vampires enjoy because it lulls those who might suspect them into a false sense of security. Some can even go out during the day.”

“Oh,” was all she could respond with. She watched as St. James walked up to yet another keypad, and he typed in another code. The metal door behind them shut, and Rhi jumped. Victor took her arm and squeezed it, perhaps meaning to be reassuring. She found it terrifying.

“Remember,” he whispered in her ear, “Don’t trust a word he says. He’ll do anything to convince you to get him out of there.”

Now she knew to trust every word the poor man said.

The wall in front of them slowly slid up, and then the two men with guns dressed in black body armor turned towards the cage. Behind the wall was a cage, though an unusual one. There were solid metal bars crisscrossing each other, but also a cross in each square. Inside the cage was a black coffin, and behind that a figure was crouched on the floor. She couldn’t quite make it out until lights above it slowly turned on.

At first all she could see was scraggly chestnut-colored hair. It covered his face and went down to his shoulders, though she could make out an angler facial structure. He was dressed in a white shirt, silky violet-colored tie, a dark purple jacket and black pants, as well as black dress shoes. Normally that combination would seem tacky but the colors were just the right shades to make it look classy yet casual. Of course, they were covered in dirt from the grimy floor.

But the outfit confused her. Had this man been coming home from a business meeting when he was captured? The poor thing. As soon as she escaped – if she could escape – she would call the police. She could pay closer attention to the way they were going this time, and maybe they could save this poor –

Suddenly the man was no longer in the back corner but right against the bars. All she had done was blink and he had moved. He glared at her with blood red eyes, and she felt her chest contract when she realized there were no whites to his eyes, only more black. His face was narrow with sharp cheek bones and chin, his cheeks sunken in as though he was starving to death. His lips were full though, and he raised them to expose too many white teeth…two of which were sharpened to a dangerous point. He snared at her viciously. “Call me ‘poor man’ one more time and I will eat you alive.” He hissed.

Rhi screamed and backed up against the wall, hitting her head on the brick. The man…the thing…hissed and stepped back from the bars of the cage, and she could see smoke rising from his palms. She closed her eyes and felt her whole body shaking, her stomach twisting into knots. Oh, God. Save me.

She opened her eyes to see the men with the guns aiming them at the cage. The thing inside hissed again, moving to the back corner opposite to where he had been sitting earlier. He lowered himself down, crouching with his extraordinarily long legs on either side of him. He visibly relaxed when the guns were lowered.

“He can’t hurt you,” St. James reassured her. She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“What is he? How did he know what I was thinking?” she asked, the words quickly falling past her trembling lips.

“He’s a vampire,” answered Victor. He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, moving her away from the wall. He looked at the back of her head. “She’s not bleeding, we’re safe.”

“But-but…I…” she couldn’t form another sentence. What did this mean?

“Hey,” St, James said softly, hitting one of the metal bars hard to get the thing’s attention. “What is your name?”

“You know my name!” shouted the thing, his voice deep but tight and thin. He was angry, but it was obvious he was also weak. He looked up, directly at Rhiannon. “What did they tell you about me?”

“No-nothing,” she stammered. The thing slowly rose and stepped forward, and she pressed herself against the wall again, wanting to be as far from the creature as she could be. “They didn’t tell me anything about you.”

“Lies,” sighed the thing. It stood tall now, and looked more like a business man now than the savage animal it had looked like earlier. “They told you not to listen to me.”

Fearfully, she nodded. Victor squeezed her shoulder again. “Remember not to trust him.”

“Not to trust me?” it asked, a touch of irony in it’s voice. “And trust who instead – you?”

“He can be very tricky,” warned St. James. “He will look into your mind and tell you what you need to hear to manipulate you into trying to get him out.”

“He can read my mind?” asked Rhi, her voice empty of emotion. All the emotion in her was causing her to shake, and now she realized a few tears of fear falling down her cheeks.

Everything was changing. Her whole world had been a lie.

“Obviously,” sighed the thing. “Else how would I know what you were calling me in your head?”

“You’re being rude,” said St. James, kicking the cage. “We don’t want any more outbursts.”

The red eyes flittered from Rhi to St. James and back again in a second, and they remained full of annoyance.

“Very well,” he said softly. “I apologize, Miss Rhiannon Estelle Little. I am Armin Habicht.”

“Habicht is German…” she said softly, automatically.

The thing nodded. “Yes.”

“We haven’t gotten it to tell us much more about itself,” said St. James. “Any time we ask, it just repeats it’s own name and then mutters in a language we can’t identify.”

“Now, that’s not true…” said the thing, slowly turning it’s head to stare at St. James. Rhiannon felt relief feel her lungs when she breathed again. “Sometimes I say other things.”

“Curses.”

“And blasphemes. Can’t forget those.”

“Nothing of any use to us.”

“Why would I help you, you disgusting, worthless worms? Who asked you to take control of us? No one. We all wish you would cease existing. But we can’t be bothered to destroy something so weak.”

“Weak enough to capture you,” muttered Victor.

“Tell me, Rhi. May I call you ‘Rhi’?” the thing asked. She held her breath again when she realized it’s eyes were back on her. “What did they tell you I am?”

“You already know that,” said Rhiannon, surprising herself. Victor squeezed her shoulder again, but whether as encouragement or in warning she couldn’t tell.

The thing moved in closer, until it was nearly touching the bars. The men with guns raised them slightly, but the thing didn’t seem to notice. Now that she was brave enough to look back, she realized it’s skin was nearly paper white and looked as though it had been stretched across a skeleton.

“Handsome, aren’t I?” it laughed dryly. “Why don’t you ask them what it is they do?”

“We protect people from things like you,” said St. James. He turned to Victor and Rhiannon. “It’s time we left. I assume you have all the proof you need, Miss Little?”

Rhiannon nodded wildly, anxious to leave.

The thing seemed panicked. “No, wait! You can’t leave yet!”

“Watch us,” muttered Victor as St. James began punching in another code.

“Be careful, little nymph!” the thing warned, using the meaning of Rhiannon’s name instead of her actual name. Or at least, she hoped that was the reason. “They are not as they seem! It is they you need to look out for, they you should fear – they are vampires as well!”

Rhiannon swallowed hard. Wasn’t he supposed to be looking into her mind and seeing what it was he needed to say to manipulate her? His current argument seemed pretty weak to her. She could see the difference between him and Victor and St. James clearly.

“They are the ones that killed your father Rhiannon! They are the ones who decided to police us – no!” the thing cried out as the wall began to close. His hands shot out from the cage and held the wall up. “You must tell them where I am trapped, where they are keeping me, you must!”

St. James kicked the cage again. “Let go of the wall, Armin!”

“Shut up, traitor!” the creature spat. “You are starving me! We’ll see how pretty you look when you haven’t had blood in two months!”

“We’re not feeding you innocent people, Armin!” shouted Victor, angry.

The thing laughed, getting to it’s knees to he could look under the wall at them. The shadows on his face made him look particularly grotesque. “Since when have you cared about the innocent Victor Sparks?”

“Release the wall or be shot, Armin!”

The thing hissed but didn’t release the wall. “They decided to protect the secret on their own, Rhi! Ask my friends – they’ll tell you!”

“Men!” shouted St. James, and the men with guns trained their guns on the vampire.

The thing still didn’t let go of the wall. It looked at Rhi with wide, panicked eyes. “They will kill your sister, Rhi! They will murder precious Gwendolyn slowly and viciously and make it look like a suicide. You will see!”

“Fire!”

“No!” cried Armin. The guns fired, and two bullets ripped into Armin’s chest. He cried out and convulsed, but his hands remained on the wall. “They are vampires! They walk in the sun because that is their power! They look pretty because they have not been – ah!”

The wall was released, and she could only see Armin convulsing on the floor for a moment before the wall shut.

She blinked, and looked at St. James. “What-”

“They use bullets filled with Holy Water. He’ll be burned, but he’ll survive.”

Rhi could only nod and shake.

St. James turned to her. “Let’s get you some tea now then, eh?”

----

When they reached the hall where the meeting room was, Rhiannon had calmed some. At least, she wasn’t shaking and crying anymore.

“It’s a lot to take in,” said Victor softly, walking beside her. “It’s understandable if you can’t process it all right now.”

“Don’t be worried about Armin, either,” grumbled St. James, who walked ahead of them. “He can’t get out of that cage.”

She looked up. “If he’s starving now, will he die?” Rhi was fairly certain she didn’t care, but she wanted to know.

“He may,” shrugged St. James. “If you knew the evils he’s committed, you wouldn’t be concerned.”

“What evils?”

“He’s a vampire,” breathed Victor. “A soulless, undead creature that must kill every night in order to stay powerful. He may be hundreds of years old – think of how many nights that is, how many lives.”

It was too much for her to comprehend, and she was thankful when they reached the meeting room. She’d even drink the cold noncaffeinated tea gratefully.

But once the door was open, she realized they may not get getting to their tea anyway. For one, it had all been cleared away. For another, a man sat in her seat. He was a rather handsome man with pale skin, Gene Kelly-esque features and the old movie star’s same brown hair but with a messier hairstyle and bright green eyes, as well as what appeared to be a swimmer’s body…but in her chair nonetheless.

“Ah, Nick,” grinned Victor, leaving her side to approach the man. This ‘Nick’ stood, and they embraced in the brief hug men did. “How was Bali?”

“Free of vampires,” sighed Nick, sounding disappointed. “But friendly people, and what a fantastic beach.”

“Glad to see you home again, Nick,” said St. James, coming up and giving the man a handshake. “Next time we send you out it’ll have to be for a shorter time, you were missed.”

“I missed being here too,” said Nick, running fingers through the back of his hair. “It’s been too long.”

“Oh, Nick,” said Victor, turning his colleague and Rhi assumed friend to face her. “We’re a little busy at the moment.”

“Oh,” said Nick, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Miss….Little, I assume?”

Rhi nodded, a little put off that he knew who she was.

Nick moved from his spot to walk across the room and offer his hand. “I’m Nick Damiani. I had a feeling Victor would end up bringing you here.”

Over Victor’s ‘whats that supposed to mean?’, Rhiannon weakly shook his hand. He had a firm grip, but cold. “Nice to meet you,” she said automatically. She didn’t have enough energy left to come up with something else to say, or to be terribly freaked out that people seemed to know who she was.

“You look ill,” said Nick, sounding concerned.

“She just saw the specimen I wrote to you about,” said St. James, taking his seat at the head of the table again. She also noticed that Victor had taken his place again.

“Oh,” said Nick, looking a little sick himself now. “That’s…unfortunate.”

“It was necessary for her to understand the truth. She couldn’t believe in vampires otherwise,” said St. James.

Nick turned back to Rhiannon. “You could probably use some alcohol then, huh?”

“Nick!” exclaimed Victor. “Seriously?”

“Well, it’s true. I needed a drink after I read about him, I can’t imagine what seeing him is like.”

“Why don’t you make us some drinks then, Nick?” suggested St. James, to Rhiannon’s surprise. He hadn’t seemed the sort to drink in the middle of the afternoon.

“Sure,” said Nick, shrugging. He headed to the wall the woman earlier had seemed to disappear. “What does everyone want?”

“Whiskey,” said St. James. He did seem a little tired.

Victory shrugged. “I’ll just have some coffee. I need to drive.”

“And you?” Nick asked Rhi. She was still standing awkwardly by the door, and now she was unsure how to answer. She desperately needed some coffee…but alcohol sounded really, really good.

“An apple mojito, if at all possible,” she said, beginning forward so she could take her seat back.

“Great choice,” grinned Nick, pushing at a wood panel in the room. It moved back as though it were a normal door. “Anyone want some ice cream, too? I haven’t had any in months.”

“Bring out some coffee ice cream,” Victor suggested. “Rhi is more of a coffee addict than I am.”

Rhi glanced at Victor, wondering how he’d known that. Though perhaps seeing her drinking coffee constantly at work and then sucking down her coffee in the car had helped.

“I’ll bring out a whole pitcher of coffee, then,” said Nick, headed through the door.

“Thank you,” Rhi said, but he was already gone behind the wall.

“Well,” said St. James, straightening in his seat. “Now…what are your questions?”

Rhiannon sighed, lowered her head to rest against the soft wood of the table. She had no idea what her questions were now.

“So…the Consanguine Umbrae…are vampires?” she decided to ask, just to confirm.

“Yes,” said St. James. “They are a group of elite vampires who use their skills to keep vampires a secret from the rest of the world.”

“Elite?”

“Those with higher powers than others, or ones that are older and wiser,” explained Victor.

“And that vampire downstairs?”

“We don’t know for sure if he’s a member,” admitted St. James. “We suspect he is, but he won’t say either way. His telepathic ability leads me to believe he’s high ranking in the Consanguine Umbrae, and the friends he wants you to speak to might be other members he wants you to lead to him.”

She sighed, trying to release the stress in her shoulders. “So not all vampires can read my mind?”

“No, we don’t think so,” said Victor.

“But could they?” she asked, concerned. “I’ve been seeing a figure in my house that just disappears when I approach it. Could that be one of them?”

Victor and St. James glanced at each other, concerned.

“It’s a possibility…” said St. James slowly. “But doubtful. If one of the Consanguine Umbrae was bothering to break into your house that would mean they knew that you were on their trail and would have killed you by now.”

“My sister has seen the evidence too. Is she in danger?”

“Your sister…Gwendolyn?” asked St. James. Rhi nodded. “How old is she?”

“Almost eighteen.”

“I doubt they’ll hurt her. She’s just a child. As long as she doesn’t tell anyone what she saw, she should be safe. Does she know to keep it a secret?”

Rhi nodded, and decided that as soon as she got home she would make sure Gwen wouldn’t ever go to the police, somehow. But there was no way she could tell her this story. Giving Gwen any more information was just too dangerous. She wasn’t willing to risk her sister’s safety any more than she already had.

“And your group…?”

“We’re slayers, according to popular culture,” said St. James. “I prefer to think of us as a sort of police force, guarding the safety of mankind.”

“We’re not out to kill all vampires,” said Victor. “It would be impossible, and would probably ignite a war. But we’re here to protect people against the most evil of them…especially the Consanguine Umbrae.”

“To answer your earlier question,” began St. James, “The Consanguine Umbrae are vampires, but they’re more than that. They exist to stop the existence of vampires from becoming common knowledge.”

“So that’s why they killed my father,” observed Rhi. “Because he was about to discover them, and might have exposed them.”

“Yes,” said St. James, as Nick came back in, carrying a silver tray of coffee, cups, a whiskey, four small bowls of coffee ice cream and her mojito. She watched as her carefully set down the tray and began passing out the drinks. “That’s exactly right.”

“So…not that I’m upset about it in the least, but why are you telling me all this?” she asked, looking around the table.

“You were about to call their attention,” said St. James. “We didn’t want you to be at risk. Plus we were hoping you could give us the evidence your father had.”

“Weren’t you the ones who sent it to him?” asked Rhi, before accepting her apple mojito with a smile. She took a good, solid gulp of it, hoping to take the edge off of the horror of the day. She didn’t normally drink, but today seemed like a good day to get a little alcohol into her system.

“Yes, technically,” said St. James. “Our group did send it to him. But the exact people who were involved in that have long since left. We’re not even certain what evidence he had in his possession.”

Rhiannon took another sip of the mojito as Nick sat beside her, placing the bowl of ice cream in front of her. She swirled the spoon around the bowl for a moment before deciding to push her mojito aside and dig in. The ice cream was a perfect balance of bitter and sweet, and helped her feel a little more relaxed. No one else seemed very interested in the ice cream. Except for Nick who was taking a few small bites between each sip of coffee, St. James and Victor were just staring down out their bowls. They both seemed exhausted. She felt a little exhausted, herself. Probably from seeing that…monster downstairs.

“How did this group begin?” she asked suddenly, wanting to break the silence.

“My great grandfather began noticing odd things happening around the world,” said St. James. “He was a world traveler, and everywhere he went there were stories about people who would commit suicide out of the blue, and stories of blood suckers. After years of collecting evidence he put the pieces together, and even once witnessed a murder done by the Consanguine Umbrae. He decided to put together a group of people to defend his fellow man from those creatures.”

“How long have the Consanguine Umbrae existed?”

“There’s no way of knowing,” said Victor. “We’ve traced them back to at least the sixteen hundreds.”

“Sixteen hundreds?” repeated Rhiannon, incredulous. “They’ve been around that long and no one has noticed?”

“Well, vampires have been around for much longer, and no one noticed them really,” said Victor.

Nick nodded in agreement. “There have always been various stories, but no one really knew about them. And no one these days really believes in them – as least, no one anyone else will listen to. Did they show you the evidence we’ve collected?”

Rhiannon nodded. “Some of it.”

“It’s extensive. But even if we released it all to the public, it would all be seen as coincidence after coincidence. No one believes in anything that dangerous if they can help it. They’d rather lie to themselves then risk introducing a new fear into their lives.”

“I didn’t believe it, either,” sighed Rhi, and she saw Nick’s point. People will go out of their way to believe they’re safer than they really are, even if it means lying to themselves.

“What evidence is it you have, Miss Little?” asked St. James.

Rhi frowned and then sipped her coffee, trying to remember what it was she had, exactly. “Bank statements from different places moving smaller amounts of money around, and then withdrawing money with an average of 25,000. A paper saying bank account in Switzerland receiving that money, and then it being withdrawn. Newspaper clippings of various people who killed themselves seemingly out of nowhere from across a span of a hundred years. Pictures of my father from a distance. Membership cards…”

“Membership cards?” repeated Victor, sounding surprised.

“Mmhm,” responded Rhiannon. “Only about thirty of them, though.”

St. James leaned forward in his seat. “We’ve never seen them before. What do they look like?

“Oh,” said Rhi softly, surprised that she had something that they didn’t. “Well, they just look like business cards, with an emblem of a bleeding cross in one corner with ‘Consanguine Umbrae’ and ‘Pulvis et umbra sumus’, and then a name with the word ‘member’ underneath it.”

“What names?” asked Victor, looking a little pale.

“Er, I don’t remember any of them. I can give them to you if you want. It’s safer if it’s out of my house, isn’t it?”

“That’s true,” said St. James. “You can give them to Victor as soon as you can get them out of the house without being seen. He’ll bring them back here for us to examine.”

“How about the next time I go jogging?” suggested Rhi, looking across the table at Victor.

Victor nodded. “Sounds good.”

St. James looked past Rhiannon at Nick.

“Can you take care of the evidence as your next assignment?”

“That’s decidedly less exciting then hunting down Consanguine Umbrae members, but sure,” said Nick, nodding. “I can do that.”

“Well, I’ll also need your help with interrogating our prisoner.”

“Oh,” said Nick, looking a little sick. “Are you sure I can’t just stick to evidence?”

“Yes. Everything I’ve tried hasn’t worked, I’m hoping you’ll have a better idea.”

Nick shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Rhiannon realized she had already finished her ice cream and the mojito. Apparently she ate and drank faster when feeling anxious.

“Is there anything else, Miss Little?” asked St. James. “Any other questions you might have?”

Rhi frowned down at the empty ice cream bowl for a moment, and then looked back at St. James.

“Once I hand over the evidence, is that it? Am I out? I won’t be involved with this anymore?”

St. James shook his head. “Not unless you want it to be the end. Your father was murdered by them, I assume you have a great drive to find justice. We could use all the help we can get.”

“Well…” sighed Rhi, “Admittedly there’s not much I could do, but I’d like to do something.”

“Maybe…” began Victor, and then hesitated.

“Maybe what?” asked Rhi.

Victor glanced at St. James and then Nick, and then sighed. “Well, you might not have had any training, but the vampire seems to think he can persuade you to be on his side. He might say more to you than he would to any of us.”

“Oh,” said Rhi, feeling a little sick at the prospect of seeing the thing again.

“It could be good, actually,” said Nick, sounding excited. “And we could give her a little crash course in training. And once she’s a full member-”

“I said nothing about becoming a full member!”

“Then she could be another connection to the outside world. She could just tell us whenever she finds someone who might be at risk of discovering vampires, and warn us before the Consanguine Umbrae gets to them.”

“That is actually a very good idea,” said St. James. His face showed that he was impressed by the plan, but Rhi wasn’t sure she was comfortable with it.

“It would be sort of the same thing I do, Rhi,” explained Victor. “You could travel to different places and just keep an eye out, and you’d have some sort of cover story.”

“Like what?” asked Rhi, raising her eyebrows slightly. “Marketing?”

“Well, what sort of things do you enjoy?” asked Nick. “You could claim to be doing research for your bakery, or that you’re studying different coffees in different countries. Or you could be a journalist-”

“A journalist?” asked Rhi. Suddenly this idea wasn’t sounding so bad. It would be a chance to write. But putting herself in any more danger…especially with Gwen and her mother and grandparents to consider…

“Yes,” said St. James. “We have connections to various newspapers around the world. You could work for them.”

Rhiannon sighed, running fingers through her hair. “I’ll think about it,” she lied. She was tempted to say yes…she wanted to help, she wanted to bring her father’s murderers to justice…but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the café to Gwen when it was obvious her little sister didn’t want it. “I’ll come back when I can and do whatever I can to help, but I can’t make any full commitments yet.”

“Understandable,” breathed Victor, but she could hear his disappointment.

“It’s wise to take your time with such a decision,” said St. James, nodding with approval. “There are tests you would have to take first, as well. Think on it.”

“She seems like she’d be able to pass the athletics test with flying colors,” laughed Victor weakly, trying to lighten the mood. “She jogs every morning.”

“Well, almost every morning,” said Rhi, shrugging. “Some days work goes too late and I’m too exhausted.”

“That’s still a good sign,” said Nick, smiling at her. “Being in good physical condition is important.”

“Alright,” said St. James sharply, standing. “So at your next convenience, Miss Little, you will return here with the evidence and help Nick with Armin Habicht, see if he’ll tell you anything he won’t tell us. Is this correct?”

“Yes,” said Rhiannon, nodding.

“Good. I have other things to attend to. Have a good day,” he said, and then swiftly left the room.

“He does that quite a lot,” said Nick, observing Rhi’s confused expression. “Don’t take it personally.”

“We should probably be going, too,” said Victor, standing. “It’s an hour back and by the time you get home it’ll be early evening.”

Rhiannon nodded, and stood and turned to Nick. “Nice to meet you, Mister Damiani.”

“Nick,” he responded, offering his hand again. “Nice to meet you, Miss Little.”

“Rhiannon, or Rhi,” she corrected him, accepting his hand. They shook firmly, and she noted how cold his hand still was even after holding on to the cup of coffee. Poor circulation, probably. “Thank you for everything.”

He shrugged gracefully. “Don’t worry about it, Rhiannon. I’ll see you another time.”

“Bye,” she said, turning to face Victor and heading towards the door. She couldn’t help a smile at the small look of jealousy on Victor’s face.

#what fates impose #original work #original writing #original novel #writing #story #vampire novel #vampires #vampire #drama #romance #nanowrimo novel #nanowrimo #nano #wrimo

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artificialimaginationxo · 13 years ago

Text

WHAT FATES IMPOSE: Chapter Seven. (Original Work)

So they are some kind of blood-drinking cult?” “Oh, they are most certainly blood drinkers, Miss Little. But they are no cult.”

A story about family, vampires, secret societies and murder. The NaNoWriMo draft of my novel.

----

Rhiannon sat on the edge of her bed, breathing in and out slowly. Everything was just so confusing lately, it threatened to overwhelm her. She’d reached a dead end with the account number, and she wasn’t sure where else to look. Her sister was angry at her and Rhi had no idea how to fix it. Her mother was gone for the next couple months. Everything just seemed to be spiraling out of control.

She leaned down and finished lacing her running shoes, and then stood and pulled her ponytail tighter. It was six AM and the sun had only just begun to rise. It was time for her morning run. So with a deep breath and a glance at her sister’s sleep form under the covers of her bed, Rhiannon opened her bedroom door and went downstairs. She chugged down a strawberry flavored protein drink, grabbed her sports bottle and filled it with ice and water, then headed out the front door. Her breath showed on the chilly air, and goose bumps raised on her golden arms and legs, left exposed by her green tank top and black shorts. With one last deep breath, she walked down the driveway and then turned onto the street…and began propelling her body faster ahead, moving forward in a slow jog to begin with, to get her body warmed up. She knew once she made it to the park a couple blocks away her body would be warmed up and ready for a faster pace.

Rhi loved jogging around the park. There was plenty of sidewalk space though the park was mostly empty except for herself and a couple of people using it as a shortcut to get from their homes to their jobs. There was still some morning dew on the grass and the mix of the grass and the dozens of flowering bushes and trees made the air fragrant, and the tall oaks kept the air cool.

Her feet hit the wet, black tar pavement in a steady rhythm, a rhythm she kept track of in her head. One two, one two, one two. She could almost direct music to it in time, be a living metronome. One two, one two, one two. Running cleared her head. Instead of worrying about dark societies or the chances of being murdered by one or the chances that she’d gotten her sister in over her head, she just worried about moving forward at a steady pace. One two, one two, one two.

After about twenty minutes, she made it to the park, straight into her favorite stretch. This first path into the park was surrounded by lilac trees, which at this time of year were dead. The leaves were yellowed and the flowers were fading away….it was almost poetic, if she were the sort of person to be carried away by that sort of thing. There was a beauty to it, though. A beauty in a death that was only temporary, a death that meant a rebirth come spring.

Rhiannon continued forward through the veil of lilac trees and towards the benches and rose bushes, most of which were still clinging to life. It was here she noticed a familiar figure up ahead…a tall man with broad shoulders, blonde hair and the most beautiful brown eyes. Victor Sparks.

He was walking down the path ahead of her, His hands deep in the pockets of some grey trousers, wearing a dark blue Tshirt and some kind of fancy black coat. She was wearing jogging clothes. This wasn’t going to be awkward at all. She sort of hoped he wouldn’t notice her, while also kind of wishing she had brought her MP3 player that day. She normally did…but for the last couple days she preferred the company of her own thoughts, which were a lot more calming while she was running.

Rhi shook her head slightly, and returned her focus to the fact that she was quickly approaching Adonis. It wasn’t the best situation, but she would have to suck it up and make it past him.

She made it to him, and held her breath as she passed him and felt a wave of relief until…

“Hey there, love,” he said. She stopped and turned around, smiling back at him.

“Hey there Adon – Victor,” she stammered, feeling her face turning pink. Quick, say something else before he realizes what you almost said! “What are you doing up this early?”

“Oh, I’m usually up this early,” he said, grinning and walking a few steps forward to close the few feet between them. “Do you jog often?”

“Every morning I have time,” she said, and suddenly realized it was a lie. She also skipped on days her world was suddenly changed. “I normally jog an hour or so, but I don’t have work today so I was thinking about going for a couple hours.”

“That’s great,” said Victor, sounding impressed. “So…you’re pretty athletic?”

Rhi shrugged. “Sort of. Jogging is pretty much all I do now, but I used to be in Little League, and I took dance when I was in high school. Since I graduated I just stick to jogging.”

“Little League, huh?” asked Victor, walking around her. She turned and followed him down the path, taking the opportunity to catch her breath. “You’re into baseball?”

Rhi nodded. “My father absolutely loved baseball, and we went to games all the time. Now I just catch them now and then, but I’ll always have a connection to it.”

“I love baseball,” commented Victor, turning his head slightly towards her to examine her face. “My father and I used to go to games, too. Even right before he died he kept insisting on going to games.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rhi, frowning. “What happened?”

Victor shrugged, turning forward again. “He was very sick for a lot of years, from various issues. It was cancer that got him in the end. But he lived a very full life. May I ask what happened to your father?”

Rhiannon winced. She was used to people automatically knowing what had happened to her father. “Well, when I was little he committed….wait,” she said, frowning, with lines appearing before her brows. “How did you know my father died if you don’t know how?”

“Well, you live with your grandparents, don’t you? You and your sister?”

Rhi nodded. “Yes.”

“So I just assumed something happened. I’m sorry if that was rude of me.”

Rhiannon kept frowning, not entirely convinced. If that were true, why hadn’t he asked about her mother? And how was it he’d known her grandparents owned the bakery but no one told him the most infamous story of Moonshire? Was there something he was hiding? Could he be part of the Consanguine Umbrae?

Or was she just being unreasonably paranoid?

Finally, she shrugged. “Well, he was running for mayor, and the night of the election he committed suicide.”

“Oh? Why?” asked Victor, but he didn’t sound very surprised. Or was it her imagination running wild?

“No one knows. He was going to win, we had just bought a house, he and my mother were very happy. It was totally unexpected and completely inexplicable.” She wondered how many more times his suicide would be explained before people were informed that he was murdered. It was almost certain this was the last time she would explain it.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, and she could hear the sympathy in his voice. He frowned, glancing at her. “That’s rough.”

She nodded, but the lump in her throat prevented her from saying anything else. They walked together in silence for a few minutes, looking around at the half-dead trees and flowers. The silence felt a little awkward, but somehow comfortable at the same time. She felt a sudden distrust of him but he seemed to be sweet and compassionate. Plus there was the dizzying attraction…

“I’m surprised no one told you about it,” she found herself saying, shortly before catching herself staring at his face. He glanced at her and she looked away quickly.

“Yes, well…” he said weakly. And then he laughed. Now that just seemed unusual. “I guess small towns like to keep their secrets.”

“Actually, they like to gossip. A lot.”

“I haven’t talked to very many people.”

“In the marketing industry?”

“I forgot?” he asked weakly. When she stopped and put her hands on her hips and stared at him, he sighed. He paused and turned to face her, shrugging. “I guess it doesn’t matter if I wait a couple more days or not.”

“Wait a couple days for what?” she asked, feeling a surge of panic in her chest, She glanced around, looking for the fastest way out of the park in case she had to run for it. Why did she suddenly feel so sure he was going to attack her?

Oh. Because when people lie about how much they know about you and claim that they’re about to do something, it tends to be a bad thing.

“To tell you the truth about what happened to your father.”

“I know what happened to my father,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

“No, you don’t. He didn’t commit suicide.”

“I know.” The question was, how did he know?

His eyebrows rose slightly. “How did you find out?”

“You tell me first.”

He sighed, and then smiled. “You look panicked. There’s no reason to be, I’m on your side.”

“How do I know that?”

“Because someone against you wouldn’t offer to buy you coffee this afternoon and tell you everything he knows,” said Victor, folding his arms across his chest. “I have somewhere to be shortly, but I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“How can I trust you?”

He moved forward suddenly, and she backed up. He chuckled, and then held his hands up in a disarmed fashion. Then he stepped forward again, and she let him move closer until he was only a foot away. She felt like a rabbit ready to run when he reached into the inside of his jacket, but breathed again when he removed what looked like a business card. He offered it to her, and she took it.

“Victor Sparks, Marketing?” she asked, her eyebrow raised. “How is this supposed to make me trust you?”

“Look at the other side. I was going to leave it for you at the bakery today.”

She glanced up, giving him a dubious look. But she flipped the card over, and read what he had written on the other side.

Rhiannon – I would love to have coffee with you sometime, but I would love to buy you dinner even more. Call me if you’re interested? – Victor

Rhi looked up at him again, her eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by showing me this? How does this make me trust you?”

“Why would I want to ask you out if I wanted to hurt you?”

“Tell that to the hundreds of creeps who use date rape drugs or the serial killers who kill women.”

“Do you think I’m a serial killer?”

Rhiannon hesitated. “…No.”

“Look, love,” sighed Victor, taking a step back. “I think you’re pretty, and sweet and charming. And it’s just a bonus that we can help each other out.”

“Help each other how?”

“Meet me at Ambrosia at two and we’ll discuss it.”

Rhiannon hesitated, not completely trusting him and not liking that he was dropping this on her and running, but she was also desperate for answers. She frowned and bit her lip, but the insane attraction she had for him spoke for her.

“Fine,” she said begrudgingly. She felt a brief rush of happiness from his flattery, which died quickly when she realized he might be involved in her father’s murder. “But don’t be late.”

He laughed, and nodded. “I’ll see you then. Rhiannon.”

She watched as he turned and headed out of the park, and then she looked back down at his business card. It was made of nice paper, and printed in blue letters was his name, job, email address, phone number and the blue and purple halo that was the symbol for his marketing company, which did a lot of business with a publishing company in town.

Oh, publishing. If only she had the time she wanted to write.

With a sigh, she stuck the business card in her bra and continued jogging. In a few hours she’d be at the bakery and hopefully getting some answers. There was the upside to this revelation – a few minutes ago she’d been worried about hitting a dead end.

Now she just had to worry about whether or not her crush was a killer.

At a few minutes until two, Rhiannon walked into Ambrosia. Her hair was out of the high ponytail and instead was in wild waves going down her shoulders. She’d showered and changed into a pair of blue jeans and a wispy black top that was made out of fabric almost like a veil, with a black tank top underneath. She also had on a rather fabulous pair of boots, bright pink lipstick, heavy mascara and her favorite jade necklace. In short, she looked ready for a nice date. If only it was actually for a nice date she’d been dressing.

She glanced around, and spotted Victor sitting at his normal table by the window. As she approached, he glanced up and stood from the table, walking around the chair to meet her.

“Hello love,” he said with a smile. “Are you ready to get some coffee and go?”

“Go?” frowned Rhiannon. “Go where? I thought you were going to buy coffee and tell me what this morning was all about.”

“I am, but this place is a little too crowded for what I have to say. The park seems pretty empty today, I thought we could go sit on one of the benches and talk.”

Rhi sighed. “You know, I’m not even sure if you have anything to tell me. Why should I-”

“Consanguine Umbrae,” said Victor in a low voice, the laughter gone from his eyes. Rhiannon swallowed, and then nodded.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

She waited as he bought them both black coffee to go, and then carried the paper cups outside before handing her hers. She sipped it and enjoyed the burn moving down her throat, warming her lungs as they headed towards the park. It wasn’t a long walk from the bakery, just around the corner and down the block a little ways. They didn’t say a word to each other, just walked and sipped their coffee until they were somewhere near the middle of the park. They sat on a cool metal bench that sat across from and empty swing set. The sound of the chains of the swings squeaking back and forth due to the wind pushing them was eerie. It was appropriate to the atmosphere of listening to secrets from a stranger, ones that might explain your father’s death.

They sat in silence for a moment or two, before Rhi couldn’t take it anymore.-

“Are you going to tell me what you know or not?” she snapped. She didn’t like snapping at him, especially since she kind of wanted this to be a real date. But the anticipation was killing her, making her insides twist into knots. She had to know what he knew, as soon as possible.

With a sigh, Victor leaned back against the tall, decorative back of the bench. “You know the Consanguine Umbrae are a secret society that your father discovered shortly before his death.”

Rhiannon tilted her body slightly to face him. “Yes. How do you know what I know?”

“Because I know what information he was sent. My group sent it to him.”

Rhi’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, your group? And why would they send that to him?”

“Because they had to, love. Someone needed to know what was going on, but they had to tell the right person. Your father always had an open mind to things, and we decided that over time he could connect the dots and bring it to public attention. Someone else might think the evidence as circumstantial or just dismiss it entirely. Your father was well-liked and on his way to big things. And once he reached a higher office, there was so much more he could do to help us.”

Rhi blinked. “Wait. Us? We? Weren’t you like, twelve when all that happened?”

Victor shrugged. “I wasn’t part of the group then, but I am now, and their decisions past or future still affect me.”

“Okay then, let’s go back a bit. Who are you? I mean, your group?”

Victor laughed, lowering his paper cup to rest on his knee. “Let’s start at the beginning, then. The Nex Luce – my group – have been working against the Consanguine Umbrae for decades. We’ve been trying to destroy them for ages, but taking anything public too quickly will just cause them to go wild. They would have nothing to lose. So we go against them quietly, trying to destroy them from the inside while at the same time trying to warn people of power who will keep this secret until the right time.”

“So what do the Consanguine Umbrae do that’s so bad they need to be destroyed?”

“Didn’t you see the newspaper clippings? When someone gets close to finding out about them, they murder that person and make it look like a suicide. It’s what happened to your father, unfortunately. I promise you it wasn’t the Nex Luce’s intention.”

“Okay, but what do they do that needs to be kept a secret?”

Victor sighed. “That’s something Luther should explain to you.”

“Who is Luther?”

“Luther St. James, he’s the current head of our society.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?” asked Rhiannon, taking another sip of her coffee.

Victor closed his eyes for a moment, looking almost as though he was getting a headache. “Because it’s a lot more complicated than even I know. And since you’re already directly involved, you deserve to hear all the details straight from a source who has actually seen what goes on behind the walls of the Consanguine Umbrae.”

“Was he a member?”

Victor shook his head. “No, not truly, love. He was a spy for a while, until they found him out. Then they killed his children.”

Rhiannon almost dropped the cup. “Oh, goodness. Is it really safe for me to be hearing about this?”

“Well, if we know that you’ve looked through the files, then they definitely know. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Crap,” she muttered, closing her eyes tight. If they knew, and the Consanguine Umbrae knew, then they also knew Gwen was involved. “My sister has seen those files, too.”

“Just tell her not to get involved anymore, and they should leave her alone.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, and noticed how he wasn’t meeting her gaze. “How did you find out I saw the files?”

“You searched the bank account number of one of the files. Searching for it trips a wire that alerts us. We assume it alerts them, too.”

“Oh, shit.” Rhi held her coffee cup with one hand so that she could run her fingers through her hair. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Well, I strongly suggest coming with me tomorrow to our headquarters. It’s not far from here, and Luther should be able to explain everything to you better than I could. He can answer all your questions.”

“Why tomorrow?” Rhiannon demanded. “Why not right now?”

“I have to give them warning that I’m taking you there,” sighed Victor. “Technically I wasn’t supposed to tell you any of this yet. We were going to see how much you already knew and try to find the best way to tell you and keep you safe. But it was only going to be a couple more days anyway.”

“So…someone could try to hurt me for what you’re telling me right now?”

Victor shook his head. “No, we don’t think so. We haven’t seen any signs of the Consanguine Umbrae in the area. We just prefer to be extra careful.”

“And who are you, again?”

“The Nex Luce.”

“Another latin name?”

“We thought it was appropriate, considering their name.”

“Do they know about you?”

“Oh, yes,” sighed Victor, sitting forward again. He took a few gulps of his coffee, and Rhiannon winced, wondering if it was scorching it mouth. “But they don’t know where we are or how large we are.”

Rhi took a drink from her own cup, glancing back at the ghostly swings. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Just to avoid any more internet searches for now. They can probably tell where the account number search came from, and if you trip too many more wires they might not look the other way.”

“Will they look the other way now?”

“There’s no way of knowing,” sighed Victor, standing. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow at seven am to take you to the headquarters.”

Rhiannon blinked. She’d have to find some way out of work. “Okay, I guess. Will they answer all my questions?”

“Yes. They have all the answers, and they’ll be able to explain more clearly than I could hope to.”

“How long have you been a member of them?”

“For about five years.”

“And you’re how old?”

Victor grinned. “Twenty-seven. There a particular reason you’re asking, love?”

“To see how young you were when you became a member.”

“Not to see if I’m the right age for you?” he winked. “Well, I knew about them since I was sixteen. My father was a member. I was a trainee at eighteen, and became full fleged at twenty-two.”

“That’s a young age to get involved in a secret society.”

Victor shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like it. You get plenty of training this way. Besides, who ever heard about a secret society that only accepts older members?”

“Um, the Masons?”

“Good point.”

Rhiannon closed her eyes and slowly shook her head, trying to comprehend everything. There was one secret society looking to hurt her probably, another that was trying to protect her and take the other society down in secret while also attempting to alert people and the cute boy was a member of this society. It was all getting very soap opera-y.

“Headache?” he asked.

“Yeah,” breathed Rhi, standing.

Victor nodded. “It happens. Once you process everything you’ll feel better. Plus, information is power. You’ll probably feel a lot more reassured once you realize that you now have the power to understand your enemy, and therefore how to better protect yourself and your sister.”

“I suppose,” said Rhiannon, glancing around the empty park. It was feeling more and more eerie by the moment, almost like a ghost town. Of course this meant it was fitting the atmosphere better. She was feeling pretty empty herself. “So, tomorrow at seven?”

“Yeah,” said Victor, slowly backing away. “We’ll take my car to headquarters. I need to go warn them now…they probably won’t be very pleased with me.”

“They’ll deal,” muttered Rhi. “Thanks for the coffee. And the help.”

“Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow you’ll be able to understand all about your father’s murder.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

Rhiannon could only hope he was telling the truth.

Rhi got home late that night, after spending the majority of the day sitting on that empty swing set. It was really a lot to deal with. One day she was just trying to handle the upcoming anniversaty of her father’s death, the next she was trying to deal with the fact that he’d been murdered by a secret society, and now she was having to comprehend that there was yet another society that had been sending him the evidence that got him killed while in the same breath trying to say they want to protect her. And they wanted to tell her more. Why would they do that if it was going to put her in danger? And how on earth could she help them? What was it they wanted from her, exactly?

Well, at least she was getting information now. The trail was no longer cold. And she could ask about the figure in her room, the noise in her tree, the person in the attic. Maybe they’d just say she was paranoid and over thinking it, but she honestly felt like someone was following her. There was no reason to believe she wasn’t being followed, now that she knew she had tripped some kind of alarm looking up the account number. And maybe she had tipped them off while looking up the words to their name, too. Maybe that was how they’d found her, and they had sent someone to take the evidence. She wished there was a safer place to keep it than the attic. Maybe she could open some sort of bank account, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t find it there as well…

Gwen was out again, this time presumably to look for something to wear to the fair. But despite her habit of running away with romantic fantasies, she wasn’t much of a girly girl. She wasn’t the sort to go shopping for the perfect outfit, and considering she didn’t have a date anyway, it just didn’t make sense for her to be going to main street to shop for clothes unless she was avoiding something at home. She was avoiding Rhi, most likely. Not that she could blame her. If their roles were switched, she’d be pretty angry with Gwen for not telling her that their mother was going to be at a psychological camp.

She was sitting at her vanity, removing the necklace and the makeup. It had been a long, trying day and she was looking forward to just unwinding with a hot bath and a good book and –

Tap, tap, tap.

Rhiannon felt her blood run cold, and held her breath. That tapping sound was coming from the window.

Tap, tap, tap.

Was someone outside her window? Or was it all her imagination?

It was time to find out once and for all. She picked up a heavy, glass-covered candle from the vanity and began for the window. At the next tapping noise, she’d raised the glass over her head and throw the curtain open and find out if someone was outside the window or if she needed to be medicated for her paranoia.

She walked on the balls of her feet, trying to keep the sound of her footsteps muffled by the carpet. It didn’t take long to make it to the other side of the room, and she held her breath with her hand poised over the curtain.

Tap, tap-

In a quick movement, she grabbed the edge of the curtain…and then jumped when the door opened. It was Gwen coming into the room. This was familiar – this had happened the last time she had heard someone outside their window. Swiftly, she turned back to the window and threw the curtain open…only to see the cat sitting outside, pawing at the window.

“Could you let Fraulein in, please?”

“Fraulein?” asked Rhi, lowering the candle. She opened the locks on the window, shaking her head. She felt like an idiot, but at least she was aware of it. And it was better to be safe then sorry.

“Yeah,” said Gwen, sitting on the bed. “I decided to give her a name until someone comes to claim her, and if no one claims her then she gets to keep it. ‘Fraulein’ basically means ‘miss’ in German. It used to be used all the time, but now it’s basically banned unless the person requests it.”

“I know what it means,” sighed Rhi. “It’s a good name.”

“Yeah,” sighed Gwen, falling back onto the bed. “I’m sorry. About earlier. I overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Rhi, walking over to her sister, pausing a moment to set the candle down. “But I appreciate it. Let’s just forget the fight ever happened, okay?”

Gwen nodded. “Alright. I don’t have the energy anyway. Shopping is exhausting, why do people like to do it?”

Rhi chuckled, sitting on the bed beside her sister. “I don’t know. Retail therapy or something. I just like buying shoes.”

“You’re weird, too.”

Rhi rolled her eyes, and looked over at her sister. In that moment, she decided not to tell her about the other society – at least not until she knew more. It wouldn’t be fair to drag Gwen any further in than she already was, and possibly endangering her just wasn’t acceptable. But her sister wasn’t going to give up trying to find their father’s killer, and she knew she had to do or say something to stop her sister from setting off any more concealed alerts. It could drag them both into even more danger then they already were in, and that wasn’t acceptable.

“Hey, Gwen,” she said, pulled her legs up and resting her head on her knees, “I’ve been thinking about the secret society stuff. Maybe it’s best if we leave it almost for a while.”

Gwen stood and spun around to face Rhi, an outrage look on her face. “What do you mean, Rhiannon? Do you just want to give up? Give up on finding out what really happened to dad? Because I don’t! And I won’t!”

Rhi sighed. “The trail has gone cold, Gwen, and I don’t want to drag Grandma Judith and Grandpa Gerold into this. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. What I want to do is start looking into those newspaper clippings at the library, see if I can find any copies of them in the actual newspapers they come from. But I think first we need to step back and cool off. Come to it with clear heads. Maybe there’s something we’re missing because we’re too invested.”

“How could we not be invested?” Gwen wanted to know. “It’s our father that got killed because of those people.”

“Like I said,” said Rhiannon, standing from her spot on the bed. “We need to try to disconnect from this a bit. The closer we are the less we’ll see, you know?”

Gwen hesitated, and then sighed and nodded her head. “Yeah, I get it. But we shouldn’t wait too long. I think we should wait a week, and then come back to it. Dad’s waited long enough for justice.”

Well, a week was better than nothing. Maybe in a week she could think of something else to say. Or, with luck, maybe in a week everything would be handled. But she doubted it, since it had taken the Vox whatevers this long and they hadn’t managed to destroy the Consanguine Umbrae yet.

Still. A week of safety was a week of safety. Better than nothing.

“Alright, Gwen. One week.”

#original work #original writing #original novel #vampire novel #vampires #vampire #writing #write #story #drama #romance #nanowrimo #nanowrimo novel #nano #wrimo

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artificialimaginationxo · 13 years ago

Text

WHAT FATES IMPOSE: Chapter Six. (Original Work)

So they are some kind of blood-drinking cult?” “Oh, they are most certainly blood drinkers, Miss Little. But they are no cult.”

A story about family, vampires, secret societies and murder. The NaNoWriMo draft of my novel.

- - - -

The front door slammed downstairs, and the sound of pounding came up the stairs. Rhi set her alarm clock on the vanity and looked up in time to see Gwen come storming in, face red and hands clenched into fists.

“Whats wrong, Gwen?” asked Rhi, concerned. “You were roller skating with Ryan, you shouldn’t be so pissed.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Gwen snapped. “Mom’s not coming back for months because she has some stupid camp thing.”

Rhi bit her lip. Oh. This was already coming up.

Gwen had just begun. “It’s not enough that she abandons us, that we only see her a couple times a month, that we have almost solely a long-distance relationship, but now she’s going to some camp where she’ll only be able to call a few times a week. It’s stupid and ridiculous and I can’t believe she’s just doing this to us again.”

“Doing what?”

“Abandoning us!” cried Gwen. The cat came out from under Gwen’s bed to rub against her legs comfortingly. “She left us again, so she doesn’t have to deal with even visiting.”

“You do realize she went for therapeutic reasons, right?” asked Rhi skeptically, wondering what their mother had told Gwen.

“No way, that’s just an – wait, how do you know?” asked Gwen, putting her hands on her hips. “She just told me. When did she tell you?”

Rhi bit her lip for a moment. “Well…she didn’t. Grandpa Gerold did the other night.”

“Why did he tell you and not me?” demanded Gwen. Her face was the description of anger and hurt, with lines formed across her forehead, her lips scrunched up, her eyes narrowed and full of pain. Her face had suddenly become all sharp angles.

“I don’t know,” sighed Rhiannon. “Maybe because I’m older?”

“That’s not fair!” objected Gwen, “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’re more mature. I mean, I’m dealing all the dad stuff better than you are!”

“Hey, watch it!” exclaimed Rhiannon, stepping forward a few steps. Her insides twisted as Gwen hit her sensitive spot. “That’s over the line.”

“So is you not warning me about this. I could have spent more time with mom, or told her not to go-”

“She needs to go, Gwen. If she had done this a few years ago, who knows? Maybe she would have taken us back.”

“She was never going to take us back,” snapped Gwendolyn, sitting on the edge of her bed. “And it’s not fair for you to suggest otherwise. You should have told me Rhi!”

“It wasn’t my place to tell you, Gwen.”

“Well it’s wasn’t grandpa’s place to tell you! Who cares?’ screamed Gwen, standing again. “You should have warned me so I could be prepared, and you’re a terrible sister for not doing so!” She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Rhi sighed, and collapsed on her bed. That fight had been…strange and unexpected. She didn’t want to have to deal with her sister on top of everything else that was going on.

She could tell the next couple days were going to be even more frustrating.

---

Rhiannon sat on a stool in front of the cash register the next day, frowning at the rain as it fell outside. It was sort of ridiculous, this weather was. One bright and sunny, the next grey and raining. She wished it was a little more predictable. She wished everything was a little more predictable.

With a sigh, she sipped the cup of coffee she kept besides her. Normally she wasn’t allowed to sit while working the register, but today the bakery was nearly empty, save for a family of three in the corner who were enjoying a big piece of Beesting cake. They had a little toddler boy, who kept stuffing handfuls in his face while his parents watched and laughed. They were the picture perfect family…happy, together and carefree. What she wouldn’t give to know what the felt like.

She had been in a bleak mood all day. It hadn’t helped that Gwen refused to acknowledge her before bed the night before, or that her alarm hadn’t gone off at the right time and she’d missed her morning jog. Her grandparents were busy meeting with suppliers and her sister was helping prepare for the fair. And here she was, at work. At least she had something to do on the rainy day besides follow cold trails about her father’s death. Hopefully Gwen’s friend would be willing to help.

Suddenly, a speck of light came in through the front door. Not a literal light, but someone who caused a bright smile on her face. Adonis.

She hopped off of the bench and rested her hands on the keys of her register while he approached. He stepped up to the counter with a charming smile in return for her bright one.

“Good afternoon, Rhiannon,” he greeted her.

“Good afternoon,” she said back, nodding. “Keeping warm?”

“As warm as I can,” he laughed. “It’s cold out there.”

“Well, we have a fresh pot of coffee,” she offered. She knew there was nothing more she liked on a cold day than a good cup of coffee. But then, there was nothing more she liked in general than a good cup of coffee.

“Sounds great,” laughed Adonis. “I’ll take a cup and…whats good?”

“Everything,” laughed Rhiannon, turning to the glass display case. “But the cinnamon rolls are especially good. There’s also the poppy seed rolls, which are made with poppy seeds and brown sugar crumbles and a slightly lemony glaze. There’s also some hazelnut coffee cake that was just taken out of the oven that goes great with black coffee.”

Adonis put his hands in his pockets while he ‘hmm’d. “I think I’ll have to try that poppy seed roll, it sounds delicious.”

Rhi grinned and punched in the code for the puppy seed roll and coffee into the register. “It is pretty amazing, a lot of people come by every morning for it. It’s not quite as popular as the cinnamon roll, but I think that’s just because most people aren’t used to eating poppy seeds.”

“It’s a shame,” said Adonis, pulling out his wallet. “I love poppy seeds.”

“Me too,” said Rhi, nodding. She felt a little surprise when he offered her a credit card instead of cash, but was also a little relieved. Now she would finally be able to stop referring to him as ‘Adonis’. She glanced at the front of the card and noted the name – Victor Sparks – and then swiped it. Once it went through she offered the receipt to sign. “But poppy seeds are a little too…European, I suppose.”

“I travel a lot,” shrugged Victor, offering her the receipt again. “I’m used to trying new things. And I love lemon poppy seed muffins, so I’m thinking this will be pretty good.”

“It will be,” said Rhi, smiling as she poured him a fresh cup of coffee. She handed it to him and glanced at the table she knew he would be sitting at. “I’ll have your pastry to you in a moment, Mister Sparks.”

He blinked. “How did you know my name?

“Your card,” she said, laughing. “It’s policy for us to look at the name. It sounds friendlier.”

“Oh,” laughed Victor. “That makes sense. I suppose it’s only fair, since I know your name.” He pointed to her nametag.

“Oh, right,” she said. She picked up a place and headed to the display case.

“Though admittedly,” he said, sounding a little as though he was about to tell her a big secret. “I know a bit more about you then just your name.”

Rhiannon raised her eyebrows slightly as she set the pastry on the place. “Really? How so?”

“Oh, not much, really,” said Victor, walking past the glass counter to his usual table, not far from the front of the store. “Just that you’re the granddaughter of the bakery owners. And that you plan on taking over after them?

Rhi nodded to confirm his question, as she set the plate down in front of him. “Yeah. My grandparents raised my sister and I, taking over is the least I could do. Plus I’ve been doing it so long it’d seem a shame to just walk away and have to sell it to a stranger.”

Victor nodded, an understanding look in his eyes. “If my family had a business, I wouldn’t want to sell it, either.” He took a drink from his coffee cup.

“This place has been in my family for generations,” said Rhi. “It would just break my heart.”

“Is there anyone else in your family that could take it, in case something happened?”

Rhi shrugged. “I have an aunt and cousin, but neither of them are very interested in the business. They would probably sell it before running it.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” said Victor.

Rhi nodded, and then turned towards the front door when the bell rang again. A small group of kids came in – they were the chess team from the elementary school. Their teacher brought them here every now and then, with folding chess boards to practice while having a little treat.

“I’ll have to chat with you another time, I suppose,” said Victor, sounding amused as the flood of twelve year olds came in.

He wanted to talk to her again. Rhi grinned. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

A few hours later at seven PM, Rhi was sitting at her vanity, adding another layer of red lipstick. She had another date, and one she wasn’t looking forward to. This guy had a college degree, and it was almost certain that he would spent the majority of the date lecturing her on not going to college, on why she should go to college, the benefits and how handicapped in the real world she’d be without a degree. It wasn’t something that she was looking forward to.

And then, there was also the fact the she was beginning to feel more than just attraction for Victor. Now that she knew his name, it was easier to admire him and want to get to know him better. She wished there was a non-awkward way to ask him out.

Rhiannon stood, and looked at herself in the mirror. She wore a simple black dress with an A line skirt and black heels, crystal chandelier earrings and a little silver locket on a chain. Her hair was up in a bun with a hairclip that had a peacock feather on the end of it, and she had a rather modern look with her makeup, having red blush and lips and only mascara on her eyes. Her date had told her to dress up, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Were they going to a show or dancing? She’d find out in thirty minutes. In her anxiety and desperation to get recent events off of her mind she had gotten ready far too early. What was she supposed to do now?

Through the door walked Gwen, the cat in her arms. So far it looked like the cat was going to be theirs, and Rhiannon couldn’t say she was disappointed. She’d grown to really like the cat…and not just because it seemed to know how to fetch, but because it was intelligent and sweet and seemed very loyal, especially to Gwen.

“Kyle is upstairs,” said Gwen, her words clipped with agitation. “He’s in the attic hideout, looking up that bank account number from Switzerland.”

Rhiannon looked over to Gwen, panicked. “You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“No,” sighed Gwen, setting Fraulein on the bed. “Just that there was a bank account number I thought dad had, and I wanted to look into it.”

Rhiannon nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. The fewer people knew the details, the better. “Is he alone up there?”

“No, Casper’s with him,” scoffed Gwen. “Yeah, of course he is. I just brought Fraulein downstairs. She’s been up there catching mice. There’s a lot of them.”

“…ew,” mumbled Rhi, standing up. “I guess I should go upstairs and see how it’s going. How long had he been here?”

“About twenty minutes,” said Gwen, still refusing to look at Rhi. “He’s been looking in a bunch of places on the internet. But so far nothing.”

“Nothing?” repeated Rhi. “Nothing at all?”

Gwen shrugged. “Nope. But you should go ask him about it, he’ll be able to tell you more than I can.”

With a sigh, Rhiannon left the room and down the hall and then up the attic stairs. She glanced around the attic, and then noticed the little hideout Gwen had built in the corner. It looked like a gathering of random bits of furniture with sheets thrown over it, but she knew it hadn’t been there before. Besides, she could see Kyle’s feet sticking out from underneath it.

“Hey,” she said, heading over. The hideout shook a bit and there was a bit of a ‘banging’ sound and then she heard Kyle curse under his breath, and then he lifted up the sheet.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing his head where he’d hit it against the edge of the chair “Rhiannon, right?”

“Yeah,” she said nodding, trying to step carefully around the items blocking her way to the hideout. “And you’re Kyle, right?”

“Yup,” he said. “So you here to find out about the account number?”

“Yes,” said Rhi, finally reaching the hideout. She got on her hands and knees and crawled into it, and was pleasantly surprised to discover how comfortable it was on the inside, covered with old quilts and pillows. “And did Gwen tell you to keep this quiet? I don’t want my grandparents finding out we’re digging through this old stuff, they’d be overly concerned.”

“Yup,” said Kyle. He was short with a round face, but with bright blue eyes and messy blonde hair he was sort of cute. He was typing on a laptop furiously and didn’t stop to look up. “The problem is, it doesn’t seem to exist.”

“What do you mean, it doesn’t exist?” frowned Rhi, looking at the screen in concern. “Not even at the bank?”

“Well…” Kyle seemed a little nervous to continue, but he swallowed and did anyway. “I sort of…hacked them.”

Rhiannon wasn’t sure if she believed him. “You hacked the Switzerland bank website?”

“I’ve been studying computers since I was like, four, and I’ve been hacking since I was eleven. I know some good programs,” he said, shrugging. “The account number doesn’t exist, like at all.”

“Wait, are we going to get arrested or something?” asked Rhi in panic.

“Nah, they won’t even know I was here.”

“Maybe you should sign off, just in case.”

“Sure,” he said, but then he glanced at her. “What are you all dressed up for?”

“I had a date,” she said, sighing. She reached into one of the dress’s pockets to pull out her cell phone and cancel her date. She really wasn’t in the mood.

“Oh,” said Kyle, and then he paused for a moment. “I don’t think you’re understanding, though. According to the website, there’s never been an account using this number.”

She leaned back, leaning her head against the wall as she closed her eyes. “At all? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. The thing is…if this account doesn’t exist, then they skipped a number.”

“What does that mean?”

“It looks to me like they closed and then erased all traces of this account.”

Rhi’s eyes opened. “But…why would they do that?”

“If the account was running something illegal, like money laundering.”

“Oh,” she sighed. “This must be something my father was investigating.”

“Probably,” said Kyle, sighing too. “Sorry I couldn’t-”

Crash. Somewhere across the attic a lamp fell over and shattered on the floor. Kyle set aside his laptop and Rhi tossed away her phone to raise the sheet up – but couldn’t see. The attic light had gone out the moment they lifted the seat. Rhi couldn’t resist a surprised cry, and Kyle cursed again.

“Whats going on?” he wondered, looking wildly around the attic.

Rhi couldn’t move or speak. She could swear that in front of the door stood a man. She could see the outline of his head, and even the whites of his eyes that seemed to glow. She tapped on Kyle’s shoulder and motioned in the figure’s direction.

“Do you see it?” she whispered.

She could feel him nod. “Yeah. We’re not alone up here.”

Rhi wished they were closer to the random items scattered about the attic so that she could have some way to defend herself, and Kyle.

There was a thud, thud, thud as someone came up the stairs. Gwen!

“Gwen, no!” she tried to shout a warning, but it was too late. The attic door swung open, letting light in…

And there was no one but Gwen standing there. She flipped on the switch, and Rhiannon and Kyle crawled out of the hideout, looking around the attic wildly for some sign of a person.

“What’s wrong?” asked Gwen, looking concerned.

“Nothing,” breathed Rhi, relieved that her mind had been playing tricks on her again.

“Someone was here,” insisted Kyle, spinning around and looking for someone.

Gwen frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

If Kyle was sure…then maybe it wasn’t just her mind.

“I thought I saw someone, too,” she admitted. “But no one is up here.”

“I even saw his eyes,” muttered Kyle, sounding shaken.

Gwen took a few steps into the attic. “Well…no one is up here now. You both must have been seeing things.”

Rhiannon felt her body trembling, telling her something had been standing there a second before Gwen had opened the door. But it was impossible.

“You’re right,” she breathed. “We must have been seeing things.”

#what fates impose #original writing #original work #writing #vampire novel #vampire #vampires #drama #romance #nanowrimo novel #nanowrimo #nano #wrimo

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artificialimaginationxo · 13 years ago

Text

WHAT FATES IMPOSE: Chapter Five. (Original Work)

“So they are some kind of blood-drinking cult?” “Oh, they are most certainly blood drinkers, Miss Little. But they are no cult.”

When Rhiannon Little was young, her father was running for mayor. The night of the election, he committed suicide. Many years later, while looking through boxes of her father’s things Rhi comes across some mysterious papers locked away in a trunk. As she looks through this new evidence, it becomes clear - her father was murdered by a group of people he’d discovered who wished to remain a secret. With Rhi trying to gain more information about this secret society, could she be putting herself in danger? And what, exactly, had her father meant by calling them ‘vampires’?

A story about family, vampires, secret societies and murder. The NaNoWriMo draft of my novel.

----

The next day, Rhiannon was back at work at the bakery. It was a busy day, but then, Sundays always were. Families often came after church or before heading out to meet family out-of-town. The afternoon was busiest, when most churches had let out and people were in the need of a caffeine jolt or sugar rush. She had lost track of the amount of customers she’d had to explain to that they had run out of cinnamon rolls hours before, or that needed a coffee refill. Her and Rose were pretty much the only people in the front, except for Meg who went back and forth from helping prepare things in the back and moving them to the display cases to running around with the coffee pot trying to keep everyone’s cups full.

Meg was a short, super-skinny girl with pin-straight black hair and jet black eyes, and pale skin. She held herself with a certain flair that only aspiring film actresses held themselves with, as though the whole world was watching at every second. Even with the shop extra crowded and her being rushed to fill mugs and serve cinnamon cookies she looked attractive, held her facial expression in an almost sultry look.

Rhiannon wasn’t quite as graceful. Her brown hair had begun in a high ponytail that had since been adjusted and readjusted into a frizzy low ponytail, and her face almost constantly looked like a mix between a smile and a wince. The makeup she had put on earlier that day was almost completely faded away, and she applied lip balm as often as possible. The cold – cold for Texas- and dry weather had done a number on her lips and skin and it was almost painful to smile.

She had just finished applying another layer of cherry cough syrup-flavored lip balm when the door opened, and in walked a very familiar face. It was the almost Greek God-like man from earlier, with messy dirty blondes hair, broad shoulders and those dark, soulful eyes. Rhi blinked from behind the register and felt her heart race a bit, but then attempted to rearrange her features into what she hoped was a friendly, casual smile.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted the man, grateful that the crowd was beginning to die down. “What can I help you with?” It wasn’t exactly what she was supposed to say, but it was close enough.

“Good afternoon, Rhiannon,” he greeted, his voice deep and pleasantly rough, like one of those singers in a rock band like the Wallflowers or Train or Matchbox 20 or the Goo Goo Dolls. It had a touch of an accent to it, but with so few words Rhiannon couldn’t quite tell what kind.

Rhi was a bit surprised at his knowing her name, until she remembered that she had a shiny gold name tag pinned to the left side of her chest. She poised her long fingers over the register anxiously, ready to take his order as soon as it passed his lovely pink lips. She watched as his eyes drifted behind her to the menu posted above her, and observed as his lips moved slowly, mouthing the German names for things.

“I’ll have the, uh…” he hesitated, obviously debating whether or not to attempt the German name. “The…um, beesting cake. And a black coffee.”

The fact that he had ordered what she had gotten the day before was not lost on her. She grinned, pleased that they had shared tastes as she punched in the numbers for his order. After cheerfully giving him the price amount, she took his money and counted out the change back to him as slowly as possible, enjoying the slight tingle in her fingertips when they brushed against the cool, soft skin of his outstretched palm.

“Thanks, love,” he said, accepting the receipt she offered him, and she recognized the accent as Australian. She felt her cheeks color a little at being called ‘love’, but she’d known plenty of people who called everyone a certain nickname. For a year she’d tried calling everyone ‘darlin’’.

She turned and grabbed a coffee cup, her hand slightly shaking…likely from the cold. The AC was still on despite the chill outside. It was still warmer inside then outside, but it just seemed ridiculous to Rhi to have the air conditioning on during the fall and winter months, but her grandparents insisted on it.

With the cup of coffee in hand, she left her register to deliver it to the man sitting at the table he’d been at the previous day. She set a flower-print napkin down and then placed the small, tea-cup-like coffee cup down in front of him, turning the handle of the pure white cup towards him. “I’ll get you a square of the Beesting Cake as soon as I get a fresh batch, which should be any second now.”

“Alright, thank you,” said the man, giving her a polite smile. She stood and nodded like an idiot for a moment before returning to her register, her heart still pounding. She felt a sudden rush, like she got when she’d gone to the fair and rode the spinning viking ships by herself, felt the adrenaline rushing through her veins like when she had gone flying back down towards the earth. It was a strange, disorienting feeling while standing here with her feet firmly on the ground…but she glanced back at the handsome Australian and felt the rush again. Oh. Was this because she was so attracted to him? She’d heard terms like ‘head over heels’ and ‘falling hard’ before, but she didn’t think it meant literally feeling a rush like that. And it wasn’t as though she were actually falling in love with him…she didn’t know him. She just thought he was really good-looking. Really…really incredibly good-looking. Maybe this was what deep attraction felt like.

She swallowed hard and began helping another customer. As she processed the order, she noticed Meg bringing out the new batch of Beesting Cake. Quickly, Rhiannon grabbed one of the plain white, square plates and slipped on a latex glove. She carefully set a piece of the cake on the center of the plate, removed the glove and went back to the handsome man’s table. She’d just refer to him as ‘Adonis’ in her head until she discovered what his name was.

“Here is your Beesting Cake,” she said politely, placing it on the table in front of him, beside his coffee. “Is there anything else you’d like?”

“Yes love, actually, can I get some cream? This coffee is a little bitterer than I thought it was going to be.”

“Sure,” she said, smiling. “I’m sorry about that, our coffee comes from Germany and it’s rather strong.”

“It’s alright, love, I should have known,” he laughed. He had a lovely laugh.

Rhi went to the back counter to grab the silver creamer container, came back and poured a little cream into his cup. “Is that enough?”

“Yes, thank you,” said the Adonis, lifting the cup to take a delicate sip. Rhi enjoying watching his lips graze the top of the cup for a moment, then shook her head and walked away when her brain began to feel a little fuzzy. She put the creamer back and began helping a few more customers, keeping her eyes on the table Adonis sat – watching him watch the world outside - at until about fifteen minutes later when he left. She cleared his table, took the generous tip and put it in the tip jar, and tried to focus on the rest of the day.

But all she could think about was whether he would be back the next day. Monday.

After her extra-long morning jog, ten hours working at the bakery, spending a lot of energy wondering about Adonis, jogging home and then helping her grandmother cook dinner, Rhi was exhausted. It was only eight but she was ready to lie down for a nap. She changed into a long blue nightgown, turned out the lights, closed the curtains and laid down on her bad, curling up under the covers. It was so difficult now to turn off her mind, which was churning with thoughts about secret societies, Swiss bank accounts, the word ‘vampires’ and Adonis’s. The added stress of the discovery of her father’s murder was killing her. Her back felt like a solid block of stress, her shoulders were always tight and she constantly felt on edge. It didn’t help that by researching the Consanguine Umbrae her and her sister were risking possibly being discovered by them and becoming targets themselves.

It was all so very complicated, and it didn’t help that she was having all these complicated feelings about a blonde dreamy-eyed Australian that had just visited the bakery a couple of times. It just seemed ridiculous that she was suddenly so attracted to him, especially when she didn’t know him at all. She didn’t even know the guy’s name for goodness sake.

She sighed and shifted, rolling onto her side. She hadn’t slept well since the whole thing had started. That was understandable, she supposed, with everything that was going on…but she wasn’t terribly happy about it. It was starting to affect her work. And it was definitely affecting her now. She could feel a pool of sleepiness just building around her eyes, and the edges of her brain actually hurt. She could use a little nap, but she couldn’t get her nervous energy to shut off and let her sleep. Maybe she ought to try nighttime sleep medication from now on…it seemed to work well enough for her mother.

With a soft sigh, Rhi opened her eyes – and then held her breath.

She was now facing the windows, and against the moonlight outside the curtains she could see someone standing in her room. For a moment, she hoped it was Gwen – but then she realized the figure was far too tall to be her sister. It was slim with long hair, but somehow also seemed masculine with muscular arms and the outline of a face with a strong nose and wide forehead. It was strange and unnerving for a moment…and then it was terrifying. What was she going to do? How could she fight off someone in her room? And how had it gotten into her room?

Sick with fear, Rhiannon decided to jump up and run for the door. She counted to three slowly in her head while she closed her eyes, hoping the figure hadn’t realized she was awake.

One…she could hear movement in front of the windows, the soft sound of the carpet being pressed down by a shoe.

Two…now she heard the sound by Gwen’s bed. She prayed it wouldn’t move any closer to her. What if it was someone from that society, here to steal away the evidence?

She couldn’t let them get away with it.

Three.

In a second she was flying through the air. Her feet hit the floor with a loud ‘thump’, and a second later she was at the door. She flipped the switch and spun around to face the intruder-

Only to realize the intruder was a mannequin that had been kept in the attic. Rhi sighed in relief, and then wondered what on earth it was doing in the room. She turned to open the door and go talk to Gwen about it when she noticed what had been making the sound.

It was a cat, with white fur with black leopard-style spots, blue eyes and the largest body she’d ever seen. It was long and lean and about the size of a small dog…maybe even larger. It was perched at the end of Gwen’s bed, staring at Rhi with curiosity. As relieved as she was that there wasn’t an attacker in the room, she was wildly confused by the strange cat…and a little alarmed. She opened the door and headed down the stairs.

“Gwen?” asked Rhi, heading into the living room. Their grandparents were both in the kitchen, but their German TV program was still showing on the television. Gwen was staring down at another romance novel, lost in the cover art and her own daydreams. “Gwendolyn?”

Gwen blinked, and then looked up at Rhi. “Yeah, Rhi?”

“Why is there a cat in our room?”

Gwen’s cheeks instantly colored a bright pink. “Er…well…it kind of followed me home.”

“It followed you here?”

“Keep your voice down!” insisted Gwen, nervously glancing to the kitchen. Rhiannon followed her gaze, and then felt a rush of vague horror.

“They don’t know you let it in the house?”

“It’s only been up there like…half an hour,” said Gwen, standing. She walked around the couch and Rhiannon to get to the staircase. “It’s sweet and loves me and it didn’t have a collar. It’s going to rain tonight, I couldn’t just leave it outside.”

“Yeah, you could have,” insisted Rhi, following her sister up the stairs and into their room. She closed the door behind herself as Gwen went to her bed to sit beside the cat. It immediately stood and moved over to curl up in Gwen’s lap, purring loudly. Gwen scratched behind it’s ears. “And why didn’t you tell grandma and grandpa?”

Gwen shrugged. “They’ve never really liked cats. But I really, really want to keep her.”

Rhi sighed and approached slowly. The cat looked up at Rhiannon, then stood and jumped off the bed, trotting over to her to rub against her leg. She bent down to give the cat a quick pat. “It’s sure pretty.”

“Isn’t she?” squealed Gwen.

“You know we have to see if she already have owners.”

“I already took a picture of her for them,” said Gwen, “But I really don’t think she has any owners. She was filthy when she ran up to me.”

Rhiannon sighed, kneeing down to examine the cat a little closer. “She’s sure clean now.”

“I gave her a bath,” said Gwen getting up from her spot on the bed. “And gave her some milk.”

Rhi nodded, rubbing the cat under the chin and smiling a little as it purred. “What kind of cat is she, do you think?”

“I googled her looks. It looks like she’s mostly snow Savannah, but there’s probably some other stuff in her, too. You usually don’t find purebred strays.”

“That’s true,” said Rhi. Despite her instinct to dislike cats – she was allergic, and their grandparents were more dog people – she was starting to love this sweet cat. She looked intelligent, too. “You know you need to go tell Grandma Judith and Grandpa Gerold, right?”

Gwen scrunched her lips together and bit the inside of the lower one, showing her irritation. “Yeah, I know. I’ll go tell them now.” She stood, and after a second, bent down to scoop the cat into her arms. “They won’t be able to resist her once they see her,” she said by way of explanation. She headed towards the door, cradling the cat in one arm as she opened the door. She paused and turned before leaving. “By the way, I left a note for you on the vanity. Did you read it?”

“No. What is it?” asked Rhi curiously.

“Look,” said Gwen. There was a serious note in her voice and somber look in her expression that told Rhi what the subject of the note was. Rhi nodded and watched her little sister leave the room. Then she turned and headed to the vanity, and picked up the purple-shaded paper Gwen had written the note for her on.

Rhi –

Used a book from the library to translate most of the document. It’s mostly money coming in from various countries then being taken out in person, but I found the account number – 835601. Maybe we can find some information about it online. Meet me in the attic after Grandma Judith and Grandpa Gerold go to bed and we’ll see if we can google any other information, and look through dad’s files to see if there’s anything that relates to this that you missed because you didn’t know what it meant.

- Gwen

P.S. I had to bring the mannequin down here because as I was working on clearing a spot for us to hide out in the attic Grandma Judith noticed me up there, so I told her I needed the mannequin to plan my outfit for the festival. I guess I’m going after all.

They’d both snuck up into the attic somewhere around midnight, Grandpa Gerold having decided to stay up extra late reading old newspapers. Rhiannon yawned the whole way to the hideout Gwen had created. It was tent-like with old blankets strewn over chairs, hiding a corner of the attic otherwise surrounded by their father’s old things. On the other side of this wall was an area set up with cleaner, newer blankets and pillows from the linen closet, a small table with a few water bottles, paper and pens on top of it, and another to put the laptop. When Rhi asked her sister why they needed a hideout instead of just locking their bedroom door, she had answered that all good private detectives had a hideout. Plus it was easier to keep the evidence safe there then in their bedroom, when their grandmother sometimes liked to go in and gather their laundry and make their beds for them. Rhiannon agreed.

But after half an hour of Gwen looking up the number on every search engine in existence and Rhiannon going through all their father’s things she had already seen, they came up with nothing. Gwen finally decided to ask a hacker friend of hers the next day to see if he could come up with anything, claiming that it might have been an account that their father might have opened…and after swearing him to secrecy.

As for the cat, it was determined that it could stay – for now, provided that they make and post fliers around the town to see if it already had an owner somewhere that was missing it. Rhiannon crawled into bed as soon as possible, but couldn’t sleep as she listened to Gwen typing up the flyers to print up in the morning. But finally her sister went to bed as well, and she was lulled into a relatively peaceful sleep by the sound of the cat’s purring.

Rhiannon reviewed all this in her head as she stood behind the counter at the bakery, waiting and waiting for Adonis to show up. She’d been there six hours now and only had two hours left in her shift for him to show up during. She tried desperately to remember when he had shown up the other day, but she had been so distracted by him at that time that she couldn’t remember whether it had even been morning or afternoon.

Finally, after about a hundred and twenty-six glances towards the glass front doors, he walked inside from the cold, windy, grey outside. She smiled brightly as he approached the counter, and tried hard to remind herself not to act too familiar with him. She might spend hours thinking about him (daydreaming, mostly) but that did not mean he remembered who she was.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted him.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted back in that lovely voice and lovely accent of his. “How are you today, love?”

“I’m doing fantastic,” she said, a little too enthusiastically. “And yourself?”

“I’m doing well, thanks,” he said, laughing a little. “And if I could get a black coffee and a Bialy I’ll being doing even better.”

Rhiannon laughed a little too much as she rung up the order. That had been the same thing she’d had on her lunch break. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to get that for you. Anything else?”

“That’s all, love.”

She named off the price and accepted the cash payment with some disappointment – if he’d paid with a credit card, she would have been able to see his name. She gave him his change, and watched him go back to his usual table. She poured the coffee, put the bread with cheese, onion, poppy seeds and herbs on a plate, grabbed a napkin and went to his table, putting it all in front of him.

“Thank you, love,” he said, smiling up at her and picking up the coffee cup.

“You’re welcome,” she said, standing there a moment to watch him sip his coffee. She still felt a little dizzy looking at him, but it wasn’t an all-encompassing, world-spinning experience.

She lingered there a moment too long, making it awkward when she turned to leave, realizing he had nothing more to say to her. It was frustrating. How on earth was she going to get his attention?

----

Exhausted yet again, Rhiannon collapsed on her bed. It seemed to be one long day after another, even without work.

She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, deciding to rest for a moment or two before showering and changing from work clothes, and then she would need to do something to release this built up anxiety. Her morning jog wasn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe she could take a dance class, or reorganize their library, or go buy the cat a whole bunch of new toys…

A bump sound outside the window made her eyes open suddenly. She rolled back onto her stomach and looked at the window where the sound had come from, which had the curtains drawn. She heard another soft ‘bump’ like a large, blunt object gently hitting the window, and then a scratching sound as though the tree branches outside were being dragged across the glass. Alarmed, she grabbed her alarm clock off the bedside table – the only weapon she could think of – and slid off the bed. Slowly, she walked towards the window. When she reached it, she heard another bump. She held her breath, moved the alarm clock up over her head so she could bring it down on an attacker…and then threw the curtain open.

Nothing was there.

“Am I paranoid or what?” she wondered, lowering the alarm clock. But after a moment of examining the outside for a figure running away, she realized that the glass was slightly scratched from the tree branches. Had that just happened?

A thought occurred to her now, and she spun to face the mannequin.

The mannequin was just a torso. There was no face.

Rhi was sure she had seen a face in the bedroom the night before.

Oh, no.

Had they found them so soon? Were the Consanguine Umbrae coming for them next? Were they in danger?

Was everything coming to an end so soon?

#what fates impose #original writing #original work #writing #writer #write #vampire novel #vampire #vampires #drama #romance #nanowrimo #nano #wrimo #nanowrimo novel

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artificialimaginationxo · 13 years ago

Text

SHADOWS - Chapter Five: Hades (Harry Potter)

She has heard a whisper.

The war has ended in the Wizarding world, but not inside of Ginevra Weasley. Grieving her lost brother and destroyed family, she has yet another thing haunting her – she hears Tom Riddle’s voice in her head. Is she going mad, or is he real? And if he is real…what, exactly, does he want from her?

A post-DH, dark Tom/Ginny fanfiction involving madness, manipulation and poetry.

----

Ginny sat under a tree in the front yard, feeding pieces of bread to Shikoba between bites of her own sandwich. He was quiet for now, thank goodness. She was enjoying her well-deserved break from him, legs stretched out ahead of her, her face tilted upward towards the unusually clear sky and the bright sunshine. Shikoba sang now and then, seeming to answer other birds that chirped as they flew by high above them. A cool breeze blew the red hair off her neck. She was tempted to go inside and change into the muggle clothing Hermione had given her…the 'tank top' and 'jeans'.

She threw another piece of bread in Shikoba's direction then leaned her head against the soft bark of the tree, closing her eyes and sighing contently.

Of course something would come to interrupt it.

"He really was the most difficult person!" exclaimed Hermione. Ginny opened her eyes, seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione in front of her, getting ready to head to the Burrow. They all had a frustrated look about them, as though they'd just spent the last hours slamming their heads into a concrete wall.

"Hey," she greeted, but didn't bother to stand up.

"Hey, Gin," grinned Harry, slipping his hands into his pockets. "How're you?"

"I'm good," she smiled. "Meeting go well?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Real well."

Hermione reached down and patted Shikoba's wings. "We're thinking about going to Diagon Alley, do you want to come with?"

"Yeah, come with us, Ginny," Harry said, grinning. "Maybe you can cheer us up."

Ginny laughed and opened her mouth to answer –

If you go with him, I will recite the Lady of Shalott, every word of it, nonstop for three days! Even while you sleep I will repeat each phrasepassionately.

She stopped, paled. Closed her mouth. She desperately wanted to go with them…it had been so long since she'd hung out with them, the whole gang together. It would be fun, and she desperately needed fun.

Three days without a single break. She wouldn't be able to take it.

"I'm tired," she said weakly. "I think I'll just take a nap."

They frowned collectively.

"Are you sure?" asked Harry. The disappointment was clear in his voice. So was the suspicion.

Ginny nodded. "Yeah."

"Fine," sighed Ron, heading towards the Burrow.

Hermione laughed lightly. "Cheer up, Ron."

"Why should I? After dealing with Mr. Hades 'Git' Xylander, now I have to deal with Percy!"

Ginny was already on her feet, trotting after them. She ran around them, and then spun to face them. She continued to walk backward and tried to keep her tone casual.

"Who?"

"Hades Xylander," said Hermione. "He was a Death Eater the first time Voldemort was in power, but became a double agent soon before Voldemort fell. He worked with the Ministry afterwards. He's the one who wanted to talk to us, for Ministry records."

Ron 'humphed'. "Yeah, sure. Like the Ministry wasn't full of Death Eater spies before the second time around."

"You think he was still a Death Eater?" asked Ginny.

"We don't know anything for sure," Hermione said, glaring at Harry and Ron as though she knew what was coming. Sure enough, both boys had begun to nod their heads.

"He was definitely still a Death Eater," said Harry.

Hermione sighed, exasperated. "And how do you know that, Harry?"

"He was a git," answered Ron, and Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, well, you think Percy's a git," said Hermione, placing her hands on her hips. "Does that mean Percy's a Death Eater?"

Sudden visions of Percy coming back to fight with them at Hogwarts made Ginny's heart hurt. She didn't want to remember that, when their family was complete and whole and it looked like everything might actually be okay.

Ron sighed. "Fine. But I still don't like him."

"I didn't expect you to...he's a git," said Hermione. The trio continued moving to the house, but Ginny's feet seemed glued to the ground.

A Death Eater...named Hades.

'Maybe you should ask Hades.'

"...Tom," she said breathlessly once Harry, Ron and Hermione were in the house. "Tom. Is this what you meant?"

No response. She hadn't really expected one, either. He seemed to enjoy confusing her.

"Tom," Ginny repeated sharply as Shikoba caught up with her and sat at her feet. "Tom, was this what you meant?"

Silence again. She was getting fed up. She put her hands on her hips. "Do you want me to talk to him or not?"

That is for you to decide, not I.

Ginny frowned. He'd orchestrated this. He'd called her Kore. which led her to research the name and discover Persephone, which led her to discover the name Hades. He'd continuously called Lord Voldemort dead, but then asked how he could talk to her if he himself was dead. And then told her she should ask Hades. He'd had this planned. Who knew how far back the plan went? Maybe back to when he was still alive.

Who says I do not live now?

"Shut up," she mumbled. She ran her fingers through her hair and looked up at the sky as though for answers. If Tom wanted her to see Hades, it was probably for a bad reason. He might be using her now as he had when she was a first year.

The question was...would that stop her from going anyway, if there was a chance of discovering how to be rid of him for good?

"Tom, how do I get there?" she found herself saying suddenly. She knew it wasn't a good idea, that she was falling right into his trap...but that didn't matter anymore. She'd lived with him in her head for far too long.

But again he didn't answer.

"Damn you, Tom!" she exclaimed, though quietly enough to not be heard by anyone in the house. "You wanted me to talk to him, now tell me where he is!"

Fetch your broom.

Ginny didn't hesitate. She headed to her broom, which she'd left leaning against the back wall of the house after she'd gotten back from the library. Shikoba followed her around the house, though she kept trying to tell him to stay. He hated being without her.

Once her fingers had closed around the handle of the broom, she heard Tom again.

Take flight.

Ginny sighed in frustration at having to do everything step by step, but if that's the way he wanted to do it, then that was what she had to do. She got on her broom, took a deep breath and took off. Shikoba flapped his wings and took off with her. Ginny sighed and turned to face him.

"No, Shikoba, you need to..." she let the words die on her lips and Shikoba flew past her.

Follow him.

Follow him. Follow Shikoba. Of course, the diver that could walk on land...Shikoba was part of the plan, too. She'd been meant to find him. Meant to find him so he could lead her to Hades.

"Isn't that true?" she whispered against the wind.

True enough.

She was almost grateful that now it seemed that Tom had grown tired of speaking in code.

She'd been flying for over an hour now, in the cold high wind, tracking what she'd thought was her diver friend. Now that her hands were almost frozen to her broom and she was approaching an ex-Death Ester's house alone (what had possessed her to think that was safe?), paranoid thoughts were running through her head. What if Shikoba was a animagus, and was leading her to her death?

'Why would I go through so much trouble to destroy you that way?'' had been the response.

What if Hades was going to hold her prisoner, maybe use her to resurrect Voldemort?

'There is no coming back from death.'

Maybe Hades was just going to torture her for the hell of it.

That one had no response, which made Ginny grip the broom handle tighter.

Finally, Shikoba began to descend. She tilted the broom down a bit, matching the bird's speed as they came down for a landing on a lush green lawn. Looking around her, Ginny noted the six-foot concrete walls with a tall iron gate. There was a porch, too, with iron bars around it. It'd be easy enough to get through this magic, though she wondered why Hades bothered. Did he live in a muggle neighborhood? Why would a Death Eater live –

But of course, it was brilliant. Why would a Death Eater live in a muggle neighborhood? He wouldn't. So of course no one would suspect him of being a Death Eater the second time around.

Ginny got off the broom and drew her wand, looking around in case he released the hounds or something. But everything seemed safe as she approached the pebble stone pathway. The barred gate to the porch had white rose bushes on either side.

She whispered and unlocking spell and slipped through the gate. then looked behind her. Shikoba sat on the pebble path, refusing to go any further. Was it some kind of warning? Well, if it was, it was too late. The front door opened.

A man stood there, a man who looked like he might be prematurely aging. He had fine lines around the corners of his eyes and mouth, and more then a few grey strands in his chocolate-colored hair and goatee. But his skin was clear and his eyes were bright and full of distrust.

"Who are you?" he barked. His voice was gruff and suspicious.

Ginny cleared her throat to give her a moment before answering, to consider giving a code name. "Ginevra Weasely," she found herself saying. If she was led her for a reason, it wouldn't help pretending to be someone else.

The man – Hades Xylander, she assumed – closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and sighed.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside. Ginny hesitated a moment, then slipped in past him. She heard him close and lock the door behind her.

Saying that the hallway was dark would be an understatement. There were no windows in the house, no windows in the doors, and only a faint light ahead of her was on, coming from a fireplace. How strange. She walked carefully down the carpeted hall, still gripping her wand in one hand and her broomstick in the other. She stepped into an underfurnished livingroom. In the dim light from the fireplace, she could see one black plush chair, a coffee table and a silver file cabinet. That was it, besides the carpet and large red brick fireplace with a roaring fire inside it.

"Sit," Hades commanded as he walked past her into an adjourning room. She hesitated again, and then obeyed. She had to know what was going on, and this might be her one chance.

She heard some clinking noises from the room to her left, and her eyes strained in the darkness as she tried to see what was going on in the room, but a black curtain hung where the doorway was. A moment or two later, Hades came back through the curtain with a silver tray with two small white coffee cups, a white cup and a silver pitcher. He placed the tray on the coffee table, disappeared behind the curtain, and reappeared with a dining room chair.

Lines formed between Ginny's brows as she frowned. Hospitality wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting. She'd been preparing herself for the git-like behavior Harry had complained about. Serving drinks was not exactly git-like behavior.

"Coffee?" Hades offered. "I'm afraid I'm not one for tea."

"Um...sure," she said softly.

"Milk?"

"Yes, please."

She watched as he poured a generous helping of milk in her cup, and then took his own black.

"Thank you," she said, letting her broom rest against the chair and accepting the offered cup. She refused to release her wand, even for a second.

Hades just nodded and took a deep swig from his cup. Ginny hesitantly took a drink from hers, and then resisted making a face. It was a little too hot for her. She set it down carefully.

"Mr. Xylander..." she began hesitantly. Hades raised a hand to silence her, and he put his cup roughly back down on the tray. Ginny couldn't resist jumping. She was, after all, in the presence of a man who either once was or was currently a Death Eater. She didn't want to think about it. It made her blood boil, thinking of all the horrible things this man probably did...

"I prefer to go by Hades," he said, leaning back in his chair, making the wood squeak a bit. "And I know why you're here."

"You do?" asked Ginny, surprised. She highly doubted he knew the real reason, but she was curious to know what he thought she was doing there. Probably something to do with how he'd treated Ron, Harry and Hermione earlier. They were, after all, her brother, boyfriend and best friend.

"Yes, I do," replied Hades, standing suddenly and walking to the file cabinet. "You're here to claim the records. Hell if I know how you found out about them."

Play along. It was a command, and though once Ginny would have disobeyed it simply because it was a command, now she was too afraid to. Too afraid he would really drive her mad if she didn't do what he told her to. Though being mad would be a fairly nice escape from this nightmare.

Ginny felt a sudden rush of nervous energy and picked up her cup of coffee and quickly drank it down, then set the empty cup back on the table. Still feeling the need to move, she shifted in her chair to watch Hades. He let a finger drift across the names of the files, every now and then pulling a manila envelope out. When he'd collected eight of them, he came back and dropped them in her lap. "Those should be all of them."

"Thank you," said Ginny slowly, as she spread them out across her lap. Eight manila envelopes. which, by the feel of them, held a good amount of paper in each one. Maybe twenty pages each. She was tempted to tear them open there and then, but something told her that Hades didn't really want company for very long. Though he had served her coffee...

She looked up at him as he began pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"What are they?" She hadn't meant to say it, but her curiosity was going wild. She gasped as she felt a sudden sharp pain in the front of her head. She closed her eyes tight against it.

She heard Hades give a gasp of pain, too, and once the sudden headache faded she saw that he'd spilt coffee over his fingers.

"What d'you mean 'what are they'?" he demanded. "Don't you know?"

"W-well..." Ginny stammered, gripping her want tight enough to turn her knuckles white. "I was just-just told to come and collect them...I don't know what's in them."

Hades stared into her eyes, as though trying to stare into her soul. Oh. Was he able to read her mind, like Voldemort could? She stared back at him until he winced and looked away, rubbing his head in the same place that Ginny had felt pain earlier.

"They're records," he grunted. But this was something she already knew.

"Records of what?"

"Of you," he said, looking back at her. "You-Know-Who's records of you."

Ginny felt the blood rush out of her face. "Of me?"

"Yes," said Hades, picking up his cup of coffee again. "All about you when you were a first year at Hogwarts."

"He kept records of that?" It hadn't really occurred to her that Voldemort would know about the diary.

"Yes, and of other little things. I don't know exactly what they say, though," admitted Hades. "I wasn't permitted to read the Dark Lord's private writings."

Ginny swallowed, and then reached to pour herself another cup of coffee. Her throat was suddenly very dry. Hades beat her to it, pouring her another cup with one-third coffee and two-thirds milk. He passed her the cup.

Well, for an ex-Death Eater, he's a great host, thought Ginny, and then wondered why her friends had thought him such a git.

Ginny took a few deep gulps from the cup, now almost enjoying the burning sensation down her throat. This was getting to be too much for her to handle. Voldemort with records about her, about her first year? A Death Eater that was oddly polite to her? And now a cup and a half of coffee in her system. No wonder she felt the urge to jump up and run away.

"Is that all?" asked Hades. Ginny nodded enthusiastically, setting her cup down, tucking the files under her arm and picking up her broom as she stood.

"Thank for the records and hospitality, Mr. Xylander," she said,

"Hades," he corrected her, and then he scoffed. "And it's not hospitality. The Dark Lord said that if I ever met you I had to treat you with respect. And he's come back from the dead before, there's no sayin' what he'd do if he came back and found out I treated you...well, like I treat everyone else."

Ginny blinked, deciding to refuse to process this comment. "Yes, well, I-"

Hades wasn't done yet. "I mean, I don't know why he'd care how I treated a muggle-lover," he spat the word 'muggle', making it clear it wasn't the word he wanted to use. "But orders are orders."

"Yes, I understand," said GInny, now backing towards the hallway. All she wanted to do was get out of there, fast. "Thank you for the files, have a good day."

She turned and practically ran down the hallway and out the door. She slammed it shut behind her and ran onto the lawn, then paused to catch her breath and figure out how she was going to carry the files back.

"Why..." she began, and then took a deep breath. "Why would you tell him to treat me with respect?"

Read the records.

Ginny shook he head. "But-"

Read the records.

Ginny swallowed hard, and then tucked her wand into her robes. She gripped the broom with one hand, and clutched the files against her chest with the others. Shikoba gave a short call, and then took off. Ginny took off after him, headed for home.

#shadows #hades #fanfic #fanfiction #ginny/tom #tom/ginny #gin and tonic #tom riddle #ginny weasly #drama #romance #insanity

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artificialimaginationxo · 13 years ago

Text

WHAT FATES IMPOSE - Chapter Four. (Original Work)

“So they are some kind of blood-drinking cult?” “Oh, they are most certainly blood drinkers, Miss Little. But they are no cult.”

When Rhiannon Little was young, her father was running for mayor. The night of the election, he committed suicide. Many years later, while looking through boxes of her father's things Rhi comes across some mysterious papers locked away in a trunk. As she looks through this new evidence, it becomes clear - her father was murdered by a group of people he'd discovered who wished to remain a secret. With Rhi trying to gain more information about this secret society, could she be putting herself in danger? And what, exactly, had her father meant by calling them 'vampires'?

A story about family, vampires, secret societies and murder. The NaNoWriMo draft of my novel.

- - - -

Rhiannon awoke the next day, after nightmares of the mice she’d found while gathering up all the folders to take downstairs. The sun was shining high in the sky and she wondered just how late in the day it was. She hadn’t made it to bed until past six, spending the rest of her night gathering the evidence together, stashing it under her bed and then lying under the covers staring up at the ceiling, trying to comprehend everything she had discovered.

Her father hadn’t committed suicide. He’d been murdered. She was almost sure of it. But what was she going to do about it? Should she tell her mother, who was already half-destroyed by his death? It might be a comfort to know that he hadn’t chosen to die, but at the same time she’d be inflicting on her mother all the questions she was now haunted by – who had done it? Why? What did it mean that someone was sending him all of those things? – and maybe not even for any reason. She couldn’t be sure it was true.

But it certainly seemed true.

She looked over at her sister’s empty bed, and wondered if she should ask for her help in putting together the last document or not. Her sister had moved on, and dragging her into this…

It felt strange to be making excuses for why she shouldn’t get any help in figuring this out. But she was hesitant to cause any ripple in the peaceful lives of her family. They were all happy in their own way. And without solid proof her father was murdered, she might just be stirring up all that pain and fear needlessly.

So, Rhi decided, she would deal with it all herself, and bring it to them when she found something to connect it all together.

The problem was, she didn’t even know where to begin. Except for that document in pieces and the strange words on the business cards…and the names on the business cards…well, she just didn’t have anything solid to go on. But maybe that wasn’t a bad place to begin.

So she slipped out of bed, pulled her computer of it’s bag that hung on a corner post of her bed, and set it down on the mattress and turned it on. While it powered up, she reached under her bed to pull out the shoe box. After locking the door, she went to the vanity and emptied all the pieces onto it’s clean – if a little cluttered- surface. She flipped all of the pieces up and then put all the corners into their correct places again. Taking a seat, she tried to line up all of the edges again. The thick blue border made it relatively easy, but she kept accidentally putting the wrong bit into the wrong place, which was made obvious when the line bent an odd way. It wasn’t a perfect square…instead, the top was higher up on the page and the bottom was a little further up than it should have been. The right was further in, and the left further out. It was strange, but not impossible to figure out. Soon enough, she had all the edges in the right places. But the rest was confusing. There was a circular red wax seal which she could almost completely piece together, but inside the circle were a bunch of white lines that seemed to only go up and down, or right and left, and she couldn’t figure out which way they went.

With a groan, she rested her head on the edge of the vanity. It had only been six minutes, and already she had a headache.

Her headache worsened with the sudden, shrill ringing of her cell phone. Rhiannon stumbled to her feet and headed to her night table, where her phone rested. She grabbed her cell phone off of it and checked the caller ID. It was her friend Jack.

“Hey,” she said, answering the call.

“Hey Sleeping Beauty,” said Jack, a hint of humor in his voice. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I don’t know,” Rhi sighed, “Hammer time?”

“No, I- what? Oh. Oh, that’s funny,” said Jack, laughing. “No. It’s two in the afternoon. And you’ve been asleep forever.”

“How do you know that?” asked Rhi, heading towards her closet to find something to wear for the day.

“You didn’t show up for your morning jog,” he said. She took a usual route past his house and sometimes he’d come out and they would chat for a bit. “And I’ve been waiting at the bakery. Your grandpa just told me you stayed up late. Whats up?”

“Oh,” said Rhiannon, not really ready to explain anything. She grabbed a red sweater off it’s hanger. “I…just…went through some of dad’s stuff. It kept me up.”

“I see,” came Jacks’ voice, tinged with pity and embarrassment. He had never quite known how to handle emotionally-charged situations. “Well, do you want to come out with us? Stacy and Wendy and I are all going ice skating and it wouldn’t be as much fun without you.”

Rhi grabbed a pair of jeans off the shelf, and headed to the small dresser to grab some underwear and a bra. “I don’t know, Jack, I’m kind of tired…” she said, her eyes drifting to the puzzle sitting on her vanity. The puzzle that might hold some essential clue to what had really happened to her father.

“I’ll buy the coffee,” he offered. “And we’ll get some cinnamon rolls at Ambrosia.”

“I work at Ambrosia, Jack, I don’t know if I was to go there when I don’t have to.”

“Rhi,” said Jack, his voice deeper than usual. His voice usually got that way when he felt like someone was being incredibly stupid. “Cinnamon rolls. Ambrosia. Free coffee. Ice skating.”

Rhiannon sighed. “Fine, I’ll come. Just give me thirty minutes to get ready and I’ll meet you at the rink.”

She could almost hear his happy dance. “Great! I – oh,” he said, sounding disappointed.

“What is it?”

“I dropped a plate and it broke. How much are those things, anyway?”

“About twenty dollars per.”

“Per plate? Who is ripping you off?”

“Go tell the manager. They know you, they probably won’t charge.”

“Jameson is here.”

“Run. Run for your life.”

The ‘click’ told her that Jack had hung up the phone and was probably following her advice. It was a wise decision. Jameson had this earth-shattering stare that was completely terrifying.

After a long hot shower, getting changed into the red sweater, blue jeans and red pumps, Rhiannon put on some foundation, mascara and lip gloss, grabbed her jacket and bag and headed out of her room. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard the TV on, with someone speaking German on it.

“Mom?” she asked, poking her head into the sitting room. Her mom sat in the chair with her legs curled beside her while her sister laid on the couch reading some romance novel or other.

“Yes?” asked her mother distantly. She was involved in the show, which looked like some sort of soap opera. Or possibly a cooking show. Rhiannon didn’t know enough German to be able to tell what was going on, despite picking up a lot of it while living with her German-American grandparents. She could speak it haltingly, but these people were talking a little too quickly for her.

“I’m heading out. I’ll be back later.”

“When?” Gwen wanted to know, looking up at Rhiannon over the edge of her book. Her eyes were a little judgmental. She obviously though that Rhi was just trying to avoid her mother. Maybe it was true.

“This afternoon or tonight. We can bake then,” said Rhiannon, backing away slowly in order to head towards the door.

“Where are you going?” asked Gwen. Her mother was back in the television show.

Rhi sighed. “Just out with some friends. Jack wanted to go ice skating, and then we might drop by Ambrosia.”

“Remember to say hi to your grandparents,” said her mother, not tearing her eyes away from the television.

“I will,” said Rhi. She hesitated a moment, but when her sister turned back to her book she assumed it was safe. She turned and headed out the front door. She walked down the stone pathway to the driveway…where she realized that her grandfather had taken the old, rusted car. She sighed. She really should dip into her savings and buy a new motorcycle.

Well, what was she going to do now? The cars were gone and she needed to meet her friends at the rink. She couldn’t wait for her grandparents to get back, it could be hours before then. And it looked like her mother had just been picked up from the airport, so there was no option of borrowing her car. If only she’d woken up earlier, she could have asked her grandparents to take the same car.

With a sigh, she went back inside.

“Back so soon, Rhi?” asked Gwen, glancing up from her book.

Rhiannon nodded. “Yeah. The cars are gone.”

“Huh,” came Gwen’s voice from the couch. Rhiannon ran up the stairs and went into her room. She went to the closet, grabbed a pair of running shoes and switched them out for the heels.

There. Now she had transportation.

---

Four and a half miles and a half hour later, she walked in the doors of the local skating rink and was attacked by the smell of old leather and crispy French fries.

“What took you so long?” asked a tall, lanky redhead leaning against the wall beside the door. Rhiannon jumped, and then rolled her eyes.

“I had to run here,” she said, motioning to her feet. She glanced around the room and spotted her goal – the water fountain. As she walked, Jack followed.

“You ran to the skating rink? Why on earth would you do that?”

“I didn’t have a car,” stated Rhiannon, narrowly avoiding a couple little girls running by in party hats. “What else could I have done?”

“Uh, anything else?” suggested Jack, sticking his large hands deep into his jean pockets and tilting his head slightly to the side. It was a classic Jack pose. “Like calling a cab? Or maybe asking us for a ride? I have my truck.”

Reaching the water fountain with a smile of relief, Rhi bent over and took a few small, quick sips of the cool – if not quite refreshing – water. She wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand before turning to Jack. “I didn’t think of that,” she admitted, a little embarrassed.

“Seriously?”

“All I thought about was that I’d missed my jog this morning.”

“So you decided to take a jog now, before going ice skating?”

Rhiannon chuckled and patted her tall friend on the shoulder. “No worries, Jack. I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine.”

Jack snorted. “Sure. Stacy and Wendy are already on the ice. I figured I’d wait for you.”

“Out of friendship or out of fear of the ice?”

“It can’t be both?” Jack wanted to know.

Rhiannon went and rented her skates, slipped them on and headed for the rink.

It wasn’t a very large rink, and was more round than the usual oval-shape, but for the small town it was big enough. There were three couples going around hand-in-hand, two parents trying to coax their daughter onto the ice, and a small birthday party filled with six or seven little girls and one little boy racing back and forth on the ice, with only a couple of them falling on their faces.

And skating up to her were two girls, one Wendy and the other a short Asian girl who had dyed her hair bright red – Stacy. Stacy wasn’t her real name – her actual name was Sakura. But long ago in 6th grade she’d gotten irritated with people pronouncing it wrong and announced that from then on she would be known as ‘Stacy’.

“You’re late!” exclaimed Stacy, sliding to a stop by the door.

Rhiannon – unbalanced on the skates and waving her arms around so that she wouldn’t fall over – stuck her tongue out at her friend. “I had to jog here because the car was taken. Consider it repayment for not showing up to the game yesterday.” Had that been yesterday? It felt like so long ago.

“I had a date!” she insisted. “It was a really hot date. And you know me – between watching average guys run around on a field and going out with a hot guy…I’m choosing the hot guy.”

Even if it meant bailing a friend who needed her, Rhi wanted to say. The words were sitting on the edge of her tongue. Instead, she turned to Wendy.

“So my date was awkward,” she said, reaching down to remove the protectors on her skates. She saw Stacy’s face fall when she realized that she’d missed some juicy news.

“What date?” she wanted to know. Rhiannon didn’t acknowledge her.

Wendy bit her tongue and scrunched up her face, wincing at the idea of an awkward date. “Was it? What happened?”

“He ranted to me about not having a college degree,” she said, stepping out onto the ice. She almost fell over and grabbed Jack’s shoulder for balance.

Wendy shrugged. “That doesn’t sound too bad. It could have been-”

“All through dinner and the way home.”

“Oh.”

Upon realizing that Stacy wasn’t going to hear the story, she skated away in irritation.

“Why’d you leave out Stacy?” Jack wanted to know, now stepping onto the ice himself. His balance was much better, although he was a pretty clumsy person normally.

Rhiannon let go of his arm and began moving forward – very slowly. “She blew off a baseball game with me to go on that date with a guy that she had just barely met.”

“Well you know she – oh, a game? That sucks.” Jack probably knew better than any of them what the baseball games meant to her. His mother had been a prima ballerina, and became a ballet instructor at a local dance school when she married Jack’s father. She died when he was just starting high school, killed when her plane hit unexpected bad weather and crashed to the ground. She’d been the only casualty. Jack went to a ballet every month and spent most of the time trying to hide the fact he was crying.

“Why didn’t you go to the game, Jack?” asked Wendy, literally skating circles around them. “You usually go every time Rhi does.”

“I was out of town,” he responded, keeping a hand on the wall in order to keep his balance. Rhi would have made fun of him for it if she wasn’t entirely terrified of falling on her butt in front of the birthday party. “Dad took me to visit some cousins, we didn’t get back until last night.”

“Oh,” said Wendy. They skated forward in silence for a few minutes. “Is anyone going to ask me what I did yesterday?”

Jack and Rhiannon laughed, then said in unison, “What did you do yesterday?”

“Well, since you asked,” said Wendy dramatically, “I made plans to drive out to Oakdale and audition for a web series.”

“A web series in Oakdale?” repeated Rhi, a little surprised. Oakdale wasn’t far and was twice the size of Moonshire, but it wasn’t difficult to be larger than Moonshire. “What is it about?”

“It is about group of college kids who have vlogs, and they talk about secrets about their friends using code names and stuff,” said Wendy. “It’s going to be awesome, and it’d be great to get a part in it.”

Jack spun around so that he could face them both, and he somehow managed to skate backwards rather smoothly. He must have been practicing. “You should go to Hollywood and audition. You’ve been acting since you were like, three.”

“Psh,” scoffed Wendy. “The internet is the new Hollywood.”

“No way, it’s tota-”

Stacy skated back up to them. “I forgive you for ignoring me, Rhiannon Estelle.”

“Only my grandmother says ‘Rhiannon Estelle’,” mumbled Rhi, but she knew Stacy wasn’t finished yet.

“I know you don’t understand how important it is for me to date, so I’m going to ignore you being angry with me. You just don’t know what it’s like to need a guy,” said Stacy. “So anyway, what are we talking about?”

Rhiannon sighed, deciding to let it go. Stacy was one of her best friends – maybe her closest friend even, since they spent so many nights sharing secrets – but she could be so irritating sometimes.

“Wendy is going to audition in Hollywood,” responded Jack, who somehow learned how to take Stacy’s oddities in stride.

“Am not!” objected Wendy, putting her hand on her hips and letting herself just glide for a moment or two. “I’m auditioning for a web series in Oakdale.”

“Oh that’s good,” said Stacy brightly. “I think internet shows are the new Hollywood movies. They’re so much more entertaining.”

“Seriously?” asked Jack, throwing his hands up in the air. “You are both crazy. What do you think, Rhi?”

The safe answer here would have been to not say anything at all. She really ought to just plead the Fifth.

“Er…” she began, glancing from Wendy and Stacy at her left to Jack at her right. He was still skating backwards, she was impressed. “I’m going to go with the internet here. Sorry Jack.”

Jack rolled his eyes while Stacy and Wendy high fived. By agreeing with her, Rhi had earned some points back for Stacy. Soon enough, she’d be over it.

Jack turned back around and the group continued around the rink in silence, until Stacy insisted on knowing every little thing about the audition Wendy was going to and Wendy was only too happy to oblige. Jack was skating a little ahead of them, and Rhi carefully caught up with him.

“Hey,” she said, gliding up relatively smoothly beside him. A second later she grabbed his shoulder to make sure she wouldn’t fall over backwards.

“Hey,” he greeted. He glanced back at the other two. “I have a headache.”

“I’m getting one,” she said, following his gaze. “They really don’t know how to talk softly, do they?”

“Not particularly,” laughed Jack. He glanced at her. “So did I tell you that I’m planning on growing some stubble?”

Rhi raised her eyebrows. “Really? What for?”

“I dunno,” Jack shrugged. “I figured it’d make me look more manly. I’m getting a bit tired of the redhead jokes.”

Rhiannon pushed herself forward, moving a little ahead of him. Her legs were beginning to hurt when they reached their original start point, making a full circle around the rink. “I think the only way to get away from those jokes is to dye your hair. Growing stubble would just make you look scruffy.”

“Not manly?”

“It’d make it look like you’re trying to be manly. Which isn’t exactly the same.”

Jack turned around again to face the other two. “Hey – what do you think? If I grow some stubble would I look more manly?”

They both broke out laughing. Jack turned back around.

He sighed. “I think the tribe has spoken.”

“You could do it if you want,” said Rhi, shrugging. “But you’ve got the opinion of three single girls, one focused on dating, one focused on career and another focused on family, so you’ve got a good polling group here.”

“Which one are you, family or career focused?”

Rhiannon sighed. “Family. If I was career-focused, I’d be writing.”

Jack sighed, slowing beside her. “When are you going to tell your family that you want to write novels, not bake cookies?”

Rhi grinned. “Well, mostly what we make are pretzels and coffee cake and…” she glanced over at Jack and noticed the slightly irritated look on his face. “Never, Jack. It’s a business that’s been in the family for generations, I can’t just let it be sold to the highest bidder.”

“What about Gwen?”

“She has other plans. I’m not going to make her take it.”

“And your cousin?”

“I’m not shoving this on someone else,” insisted Rhiannon. “And I mean…I love the bakery. I really do.”

“Well, who says you can’t write and work at the bakery? Most writers have some kind of day job.”

“Right now it’s taking up all my time,” she sighed. She sped up to keep with Jack’s pace, although he was already moving slower than he normally did. “If I could just get more then a day off a week I’d be able to start something, but for now that’s just not going to happen.”

Jack frowned. “Are you sure? I-”

Someone threw their arms around her from behind, and she went crashing down to the ice, hitting her face on the ice.

“Ouch!” she cried out when a sharp pain shot through the whole front of her body. The person who had landed on her squirmed off and Rhi flipped over, holding her nose. It wasn’t broken, but it sure hurt like hell.

“Really, Wendy?!” she exclaimed, looking up at the blonde.

“Sorry,” said Wendy, grabbing one of Rhi’s arms and helping her off the ice. “I lost my balance?”

“And you thought I would help you get it back?”

Stacy skating alongside them, holding on to Rhiannon’s other arm. “So does this mean we can leave now?”

They walked into the bakery together, with Jack and Wendy in front and Rhiannon and Stacy behind. It was a nice, little place, with dark green walls and a wood floor that was painted black. On the walls were black-and-white photos of Germany that had been taken by various members of the family over the years. There were a few small round tables scattered here and there, and a little bar stretching from one wall to the other to the left, in front of a row of windows. Directly across from the door was the counter, and on either side were glass cases filled with various desserts and breads. In the window of the shop was also a basket of breads, all of various sizes and shapes.

The group walked to the counter, and behind it was a short woman with bright, unnaturally red hair. She grinned when she recognized the brunette in the back.

“Hey Rhi,” she greeted. “Taking another day off?”

“Yeah, Rose,” said Rhi in response, smiling back. “I should be in on Monday. How are things going?”

“Pretty good,” laughed Rose. She absent-mindedly pushed her long bangs out of her face. “Jameson has been comparatively peppy today. I think someone switched him from decaf.”

The group laughed. They’d all had run-ins with the infamously rude pastry chef.

“What can I get you guys?” Rose asked now, fingers poised over the old fashioned register to type in the prices.

“I want a salted pretzel,” said Jack, “And some coffee.”

“We only serve black with cream and sugar, Jack, that hasn’t changed,” said Rose. They’d all gotten to know each other over the years, the bakery being a popular hang out. “I’m not making you some fancy cappuccino. If you want that, go to Starbucks.”

“Jameson is rubbing off on you,” grumbled Jack. “I’ll take the coffee, just fill it halfway with coffee and half with creamer, please.”

“I want a coffee too,” said Stacy, “And some poppy seed cake.”

“And I’ll take a cinnamon roll and earl grey tea,” requested Wendy.

“And you, Rhi?” asked Rose.

Rhiannon glanced at the case, unsure of what she wanted. She ate most of her meals at the bakery, so fresh bread and pretzels and pastries tended to get old fast. But there were a couple things she would never tire of. “Beesting cake and coffee please, just black,” she ordered, referring to a yeast cake filled with vanilla custard and covered with caramelized almonds.

“Alrighty,” said Rose, finishing calculating the price for everything. “Who is paying today?”

“I am,” said Jack, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet from his back pocket. As he paid, the girls walked to a table off to the right side, beneath a photograph of one of Germany’s many castles. Wendy and Stacy took one side, and Rhi took the other. Jack joined them a moment later.

“Tell your grandparents that they need a loyal customer rewards card or something,” muttered Jack, throwing his wallet on the table as he took a seat. Wendy and Stacy took the opportunity to seize and it go though all the business cards he’d collected in the various pockets.

“I’ll let them know,” laughed Rhiannon, watching her friends pull out and examine his picture IDs. “But somehow I don’t think they’ll go for it.”

“Why not?” groaned Jack, snatching his driver’s license from Stacy before she could show the awkward photo of him half-blinking and jaw crooked to the couple at the next table. He stuffed it in his pocket.

“Because they like to be a little old-fashioned,” she said. She pulled one of the paper napkins wit the Ambrosia label on the front – the outlined image of a stag in foreground and a rose in background – and played with the corner of it. So maybe they weren’t that old fashioned, but they tried to be. “And Grandpa thinks reward cards are a bit-”

“Oh, no,” moaned Wendy in horror. “Jameson is coming out.”

Rhiannon looked to the kitchen door, and her jaw dropped when she realized it was true. She resisted the urge to duck under the table, and instead clung to the edge until her knuckles turned white.

He stopped at their table, and everyone smiled weakly.

“Good morning, Jameson, how-” Rhiannon began, but was quickly interrupted.

“Who ordered the cream with coffee?” he demanded, his accent thick.

Rhiannon sighed in relief when she realized he wasn’t coming to yell at her for missing another day of work, but felt sorry for poor Jack.

The redhead slowly raised his hand over his head. “I did?”

“Don’t raise your hand, you’re not in school,” snapped Jameson. “And is that a question?”

“N-no,” stammered Jack. “No, sir. I did. I ordered the half coffee, half cream, but I…er…” Rhi felt bad that he was stammering, trying to figure out how to apologize for something when he wasn’t sure what it was he’d done.

“Our coffee is the best, highest quality you can get, not just in this state but this whole country, and you ask for it to flavor your creamer?”

Jack swallowed hard and glanced at Wendy, then Stacy and Rhiannon for help. The girls collectively shrugged – but very small shrugs so that Jameson wouldn’t notice them.

“I don’t like strong coffee.”

“Then don’t order coffee! That’s half a cup wasted on someone who deserves a good cup of coffee. And who ordered the Beesting Cake?”

Rhiannon swallowed hard, and then nodded her head. “I did.”

Jameson looked relieved. “’And you got the black coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” said Jameson, and then after a moment of reflection he said, “Your hair looks ridiculous like that, put it in a bun.”

He turned and as he left, Rhiannon and Stacy stared at each other with wide, surprised eyes. They waited until he was back in the kitchen to break out laughing.

“Oh my gosh, that was terrifying,” said Wendy.

“Terrifying for you?” asked Jack in disbelief. “I’m the one he cornered!”

“That’s true,” giggled Stacy. “It was hilarious.”

“You’re kind of a jerk, Stacy.”

“Thanks Jack.”

Rhiannon rolled her eyes and started putting the business cards back into Jack’s wallet. “So why do you guys keep hanging out here, again?”

Wendy grinned as Rose arrived with a tray carrying their orders. “The food is great.”

“Totally worth with facing off Jameson,” agreed Stacy.

“I tried to stop him, guys,” apologized Rose, as she set down their drinks. “Sorry about that.”

Rhiannon shrugged, pulling her cup of coffee close to her, holding on tight with both hands. She still felt the chill of the skating rink in them. “Don’t worry about it, Rose, it happens to everybody eventually. I’m just glad it wasn’t about work.”

“Yeah, about that…” began Rose hesitantly. “Be prepared for a good solid chewing-out next time you have work.”

Rhiannon’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Why? Jameson seemed fine with-”

“Anna got called in.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize someone was going to get called in,” Rhiannon sighed. “Didn’t Anna already have three days off a row this week?”

“Yeah,” said Rose, finishing setting down their plates. She glanced around for a sign of Anna, then lowered her voice, just in case. “But you know how she gets. She thinks her time is more important than anyone else’s.”

“True,” said Rhi. “I guess I’ll deal with it later.”

Rose nodded. “Well, enjoy,” she said, then headed back to her spot behind the register.

The group enjoyed their warm food and good drinks for few minutes in silence, enjoying the heat filling their bodies after so much time on the ice and being out in the cold autumn weather. A brief roll of thunder told them that a storm was approaching.

“Oh, cutie alert,” said Wendy suddenly, her cheeks flushed.

“What? Where?” asked Stacy, craning her head around the bakery.

Jack and Rhiannon looked at each other, and rolled their eyes at the same time. Wendy and Stacy were a lot of fun, but they spent a lot of time oogling over boys they had no intention of asking out. It was sort of like window shopping.

“On the other side of the bakery,” said Wendy, leaning in close to the center of the table. “He’s gorgeous.”

When Rhiannon heard Stacy give a small squeal, she couldn’t help but glance over to the opposite side of the room. Sitting in from of the rain-covered windows was…well, an Adonis. His body was very long, and his chest was broad and arms built. He had a square jaw, a – as Stacy would put it – “butt chin”, dark and dreamy eyes, a long thin nose, full lips, a bit of scruff and high cheekbones, with a golden tan and blonde hair with dark roots. He had on a tight dark green Tshirt, a black leather coat and blue jeans. He looked a little like a Abercrombie model. He hand his hands wrapped around a coffee cup, much like Rhiannon did. He was staring out the window, which was good since that way he wouldn’t be able notice the three girls starting at him with his jaws half-dropped.

“Oh please,” sighed Jack, glancing over his shoulder and then back to his pretzel. He busied himself by tearing into it. He began eating while the girls slowly shook themselves out of their daze, and joined him in eating their food.

“Does he come here often?” asked Stacy, before taking a sip from her coffee. Her eyes drifted back to the guy across the room. “Have you seen him before?”

“No,” said Rhi, trying to resist the urge to look past Jack at the man. “I’ve never seen him.”

“But everyone has come to Ambrosia,” insisted Wendy.

Stacy shrugged. “Maybe he’s new in town or something?”

“Or I just don’t remember every face that comes in,” said Rhi, running a finger along the top of her coffee cup. “If he’s not a regular I might not remember him.”

“Huh,” said Jack, pushing away his empty plate. “Isn’t that a shame. You can’t remember a dreamboat like him.”

Rhi lightly punched Jack’s arm.

“Well,” said Wendy, glancing over again, “Hopefully he becomes a regular. I’d like to have some eye candy every morning.”

Rhiannon walked in from the rain just as the sun was beginning to hide behind the distant hills. No one was downstairs, but that was to be expected. Grandma Judith was probably taking her mother to dinner or something, that’s what usually happened when her mother was in town. And her mother was only there for a short time.

But then, wasn’t she only supposed to be there a day? When was she leaving?

Not particularly caring about the answer, Rhi headed up the stairs. She heard movement in her bedroom and figured Gwen was moving furniture around again or something – her sister didn’t seem to be content with a certain arrangement for more then a couple of months – but realized this assumption was probably incorrect when her sister flung the bedroom door open.

“Where did you find that stuff?” she demanded, her hair a mess.

Rhiannon slid into the room past her little sister. “Find what?” she asked, but realized what it was her sister was referencing when she spotted the vanity. She’d forgotten to hide the evidence before she left. The document was still out on her table, the other papers spread out across Gwen’s bed.

“This stuff,” said Gwen angrily. She held up the photo of Rhi and her father on the river. “This stuff that basically says someone was following dad and sending him information about some…some secret society.”

“Oh, that stuff,” Rhiannon sighed, dropping her bag off of her shoulder and setting it beside the door. She glanced in the hall to make absolutely certain no one was there, then closed and locked the bedroom door so they wouldn’t be interrupted. She didn’t want anyone else knowing and she hoped to keep this isolated. Maybe if she was completely honest, Gwen would allow herself to be sworn to secrecy. “I found it in the filing cabinet from dad’s office. You know…the one I never looked through.”

“This looks like some kind of cult has been going around killing people,” said Gwen, her eyes wide and fearful. She collapsed on her bed, wincing when she laid back against the hair clip that kept her hair in a messy, tangled bun but out of her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want anyone to know,” explained Rhi hesitantly. “It’s not something anyone needs to be dealing with right now.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Gwen, sitting up and glaring at Rhi. “This is big Rhiannon. This could change everything!”

“Exactly!” shouted Rhi, exasperated. She paced away and sat at the end on her bed, her legs dangling over the foot of it. “Can you imagine mom’s face when she finds out dad might have been murdered? Or how stressed Grandma Judith and Grandpa Gerold would be when a murder investigation starts? I didn’t want to put any undue pressure on them without knowing for sure that he didn’t really kill himself.”

“You’re not even going to tell the police?” asked Gwen, putting her hands on her hips. “Look at those files – everything is right here! Obviously he was killed by someone, either that secret society or by the person who was sending him the information.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Rhi, not wanting to admit that she hadn’t considered the person sending the information a suspect. “But the police will tell us that all we have are some pictures, newspaper clipping and business cards that anyone could have put together to look suspicious but in the grand scheme of things didn’t really mean anything. I mean, those suicides were over a period of a hundred years. The pictures could have been taken by anyone. The bank statements could mean nothing or be about something else entirely, and those business card things could be printed up by anyone with a color printer, thick paper and Photoshop. We don’t have anything solid.”

“Well, whats this?” asked Gwen, heading to the vanity. Rhiannon stood and followed her, and realized that Gwen had begun putting it together without her. It’s was maybe one-third finished now.

“I don’t know,” admitted Rhi. “I don’t even know what language it’s in. That’s why I was trying to put it together, to figure it out.”

Gwen took a seat and began rearranging the little bits of paper, trying to find more ways to fit them together. Rhi watched in silence as she found the right place for two more bits of paper in the period of four minutes. Relieved that her sister seemed content for now, she went to the closet and changed into a long pair of dark blue pajama pants and a white tank top. When she came back out, Gwen was standing again, her lips scrunched up and her teeth biting the inside of the lower one.

“What is it now?” sighed Rhiannon.

“Why did you go out when you just found out about all this?”

Rhiannon shrugged. “Jack wanted me to go out with him, Wendy and Stacy. I didn’t want anyone to get suspicious. Plus I thought maybe if I got away for a bit, I’d be able to get more done with a clear head.”

Gwen frowned, and then sat back down to work on the document a bit more. “So what do we do?”

Rhi dropped her clothes into the hamper and went to Gwen bed to flip through all the evidence again. “I’m not sure. I was planning on getting that document put together, and then seeing if I could look into whatever that is. And I want to find some way of tracking all this money moving back and forth.”

“And the name of the group?”

“Oh, yeah. I need to look that up, too.”

“I’ll work on this document, you google.”

Rhiannon nodded. “I need to wash my face first. But Gwen?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s not tell anyone about this, okay?”

Gwendolyn turned towards her sister with a weak smile. “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. I just want to help. I know I seem fine, but…I mean, I know none of this is going to bring him back, but if someone killed dad, I want to know.”

Rhi nodded. “Me, too.” She left the room and went to their bathroom, quickly washed her face and brushed her hair, and then stared at the shower longingly. It had been a long, active day and she could really use a quick rinse. But there were more important things going on.

She came back into the room and turned her computer on, and left it open on her bed as she went to grab one of the business cards. As she signed onto her computer and opened her browser, she examined the card again. There were things other than the name of the group (or at least, she assumed ‘Consanguine Umbrae’ was the name of the group) that she could look up. ‘Pulvis et umbra’ was one thing, for example, or the grey shield and bleeding cross for another. Though how she was going to look up the image, she didn’t know. Maybe she could describe it in her image search, or better yet…find a forum she could ask about. Maybe she could take a picture and ask people about it.

But then, her father might have been killed for knowing too much. Maybe it wouldn’t be wise to advertise her search for them.

Se glanced at her sister. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for her little sister to be helping with something that could potentially be very dangerous. It just didn’t seem wise to let a seventeen-year-old girl investigate a potentially homicidal secret society.

“Hey, Gwen…” she began, but her sister interrupted her.

“Do you know why dad referred to them as ‘vampires’?”

Rhiannon shrugged, though her sister couldn’t see her. She flipped the business card around, looking for any kind of clue. “I have no idea. Maybe something to do with the bleeding cross?”

“Could have just been his nickname for them, I guess,” said Gwen. “Any idea about the Latin?”

Rhi blinked. “How do you know it’s Latin?”

“It looks like it. You didn’t notice?”

“Of course I did,�� Rhiannon lied. “I just didn’t think you would.”

Gwen scoffed, and Rhi turned her attention back to her computer. She went to her favorite search engine, and typed in ‘What does consanguine mean?’. Some of the results that popped up were about a rock band from the UK, but after scrolling past pictures of pink-haired men and descriptions of their artistic electric guitars, she spotted a dictionary website. She clicked the link, and reviewed the page.

“Gwen,” she said, her lips barely moving. “It says ‘Consanguine’ means kinship, or related by blood.”

“I guess that makes sense for a secret society. What else?”

“It is Latin, meaning of blood. I’m going to look up the other one now.”

She hit the ‘back’ button on her browser, and replaced ‘what does consanguine mean?’ with ‘what does umbrae mean?’. This time, the dictionary result was at the top. She clicked on it and sucked on the bottom of her top lip as she read it. “This one means the darkest part of a shadow.”

“That’s confusing. Why would someone call themselves ‘related by blood darkest part of a shadow’?”

“I don’t know,” said Rhiannon, and felt as though pinpricks of needles went up her back as she did. She’d said that phrase far too many times that night, and she hated not knowing. “I don’t think their name is going to tell us anything.”

“What about that other phrase on the card?” asked Gwen, glancing in the mirror to make eye contact with her sister. “Didn’t that one have ‘umbrae’ in it too?”

“It’s ‘umbra’…both are pronounced the same but this one doesn’t have an ‘e’ at the end,” sighed Rhiannon. She hit back again, erased her previous searched and asked, ‘what does Pulvis et umbra sumusmean’? The top result showed the answer in it’s description. “It means ‘we are dust and shadow’.”

“These people don’t sound sinister at all, do they?” asked Gwen sarcastically. Rhiannon watched as her sister skillfully moved the papers around, fitting them together. “What do you think they do? Sell drugs and stuff?”

“I have no idea,” admitted Rhiannon. She hated admitting it again.

“Other then killing people and making it look like a suicide, you mean?” asked Gwen, a hint of anger in her voice. Rhi felt like something kicked her in the chest. She would never be able to speak about their father’s death that plainly, but Gwen had grown into a strange mix of bitter and dreamer.

“So what-”

Rhiannon stopped when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Girls?” came the voice of their mother from the other side. “I’m back now. Can I come in?”

Rhiannon and Gwen looked at each other in a panic. Rhi closed her laptop quickly and went to cover the evidence on Gwen’s bed with the spare blanket sitting at the end. She glanced at he sister, who had covered the mysterious puzzle document with a couple piles of books.

Rhiannon headed over to the door and unlocked it. “Yes?” she asked, opening the door. Her mother stood on the other side, her hair in a tangled bun much like Gwen’s, with overdone lipstick and dark circles under her eyes. She looked wearier then she’d looked in the last few months, and Rhiannon assumed that Grandma Judith had taken her to stop by the graveyard.

“Hiding something?” asked her mother with a touch of humor making it way into her voice though the obvious emotional exhaustion. Rhi sometimes wondered if their mother should have been in some kind of mental hospital, getting more therapy then the one-a-week she currently got.

“No,” responded both Rhi and Gwen at the same time, Gwendolyn walking up behind her older sister.

“Why would you ask that?” asked Rhiannon in a panic, then realized how suspicious that made her sound.

Their mother raised her thinly arched eyebrows. “I heard movement. I was joking, but now…”

“We were dancing,” responded Gwen quickly. “So what is it?”

“If you girls wanted to bake, the kitchen is available. I’ll be downstairs.”

Rhi frowned. “When are you leaving?” She realized how rude it sounded when she felt Gwen’s elbow in her ribs. “I mean…I thought you were staying for a day.”

“I am,” said her mother, nodding her head, causing her chandelier fake sapphire earrings to shake. Rhi remembered that her father had given them to get a year before he died. “I’m staying just over twenty-four hours. I need to leave for the airport in about three hours. So I have some time to bake if…”

“We’ll be down in a second,” said Gwen, overly enthusiastically. She loved baking with their mother, but Rhi could tell that this time she’d rather be working on the document. “I just want to change into some pajamas first.”

“And I’m going to throw on a robe,” added Rhi.

“Okay. I’ll be downstairs,” said their mother, turning and walking down the hall. Rhi closed the door with a sigh of relief.

“Well, that was close,” she said, turning to her sister. Gwen was already almost to the closet.

Gwen stepped into the closet and Rhi could hear a drawer opening before she responded. “We need some kind of secret club house or something.”

Rhiannon nodded in agreement though her sister had closed the closet door and couldn’t see her, picking up her robe from under her bed. She couldn’t quite remember how it had gotten there, it having been before she discovered that her father might have been murdered. Everything from before then just seemed to have faded in importance.

“I agree, but we’re a little old for a tree house.”

“There has to be somewhere we can go where no one will interrupt us.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” laughed Rhi, throwing on the very soft dark blue robe. “We live with our grandparents, and Grandma Judith can be nosy.”

“Maybe we could drive to a park or something?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to take all this evidence outside,” said Rhiannon. “We could lose it, or catch the attention of the people we’re looking into. I don’t think they would be terribly thrilled we’re looking into them.”

“Well, what do you suggest then?” snapped Gwen. It wasn’t normal for her to have that short of a temper.

“I guess…” began Rhi, ready to say ‘I don’t know’ one more time, but then she thought of something and slowly smiled. “What about the attic?”

“The attic?” asked Gwen a little weakly. She opened the door, revealing that she had dressed in a long pale blue nightgown with brown teddy-bears. Those were the pajamas she wore when she felt the most emotionally distressed. Well, finding out her father may have been murdered was good enough reason to need comfort pajamas, Rhi supposed. “With all of dad’s stuff?”

“We could say we’ve decided that spending time with it is like…like spending time with dad,” said Rhi, her voice softened as she finished the sentence. The idea of spending all that time with her father’s old things made her feel at though there was a small, throbbing hole in her chest. The emotional pain she’d gone through just spending a few minutes with it was excruciating, but what choice did she have? “As long as you’re not scared of mice, it might be our best option.”

Gwen stared blankly at her sister, frozen while putting on a fluffy white slipper. “…there are mice?”

“A few,” admitted Rhi, heading towards the door. “But they’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

“What if one touches me?” asked Gwen, finishing putting on her slipper.

“I guess you’d die.”

“Not funny,” said Gwen flatly. “They’re not like Mickey Mouse, they carry diseases.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No,” sighed Gwen. “I guess we’ll be taking this up to the attic, then. But we’ll have to wait until after I finish putting together that document, or I’d have to start all over.”

“I’ll see if I can find some clear tape downstairs,” said Rhiannon, opening the door to their room so Gwen could leave in front of her. “We’ll probably need it in order to keep it together. We could take pictures, too, but I think it’d be better to have the solid document put together.”

“And that way I won’t accidentally lose any of the pieces,” said Gwen. She turned to Rhi and they shared a brief look when they reached the stairs. It was time to change the subject, so that no one would overhear them.

When they got to the kitchen – a pretty small room, considering it was the favorite of the house – their mother had already taken out bowls and other various ingredients for baking.

“What are we making?” Rhi asked.

Her mother looked up from the homemade cookbook she’d been flipping through. “I figured we could make lavender-poppy seed cake and some orange-chocolate brownies. Does that sound good?”

The girls both nodded, going to the kitchen sink to wash their hands. Once clean, they dried them on a bright yellow dish towel and began getting together some of the other ingredients. Their mother instructed them on what to get, and where to put it as she got together the right bowels and mixers. Once everything was prepared, she began giving each girl a task for each recipe. Rhiannon prepared the culinary lavender while Gwen began mixing together the wet ingredients for the brownies. There were two ovens in the rather cramped kitchen, and their mother began preheating them both. As they worked, they began chatting about every day, meaningless things. What they’d had for lunch, how the book Gwen was reading was going, how things were at the apartment their mother rented in another state, if Rhi was planning on going back to college. It was all things they’d discussed a million times before and would probably discuss another million times before they realized small talk just wasn’t their thing. Rhi wondered if someday they would start making recipes in the kitchen together in complete silence, with just the soft ‘thuds’ of their mixing spoons against the edges of the bowls and the cracking sounds of eggshells.

“Isn’t there a dance coming up at your school soon, Gwen?” their mother asked while juicing an orange. “Some kind of autumn fest?”

“Yeah, there’s going to be an autumn fair at the park, with hay rides and music and some carnival games,” said Gwen. “I’m going to be helping run the beanbag toss.”

“Are you raising money for something?” asked Rhi. Her old high school had always been raising money for something or other.

Gwen nodded as she poured the dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. “Yeah. I actually convinced them to raised money for the children’s hospital in Oakdale instead of refurnishing the theatre. The principal agreed that we could stand having bright yellow seats for a few more years.”

“Oh, that’s really good of you, Gwen,” said Rhi.

“It is, very good,” echoed her mother. She always tried to be enthusiastic, but there wasn’t enough left of her. “Do you have a date?”

“No,” said Gwen, shrugging. “No one asked me.”

“Well, that’s alright,” said their mother, turning her head a little to face her youngest daughter. “When I was your age I went by myself, since all my friends had already graduated and your father was out of town. My mother took me dress shopping and we got our hair and nails done together and everything…your grandmother and I spent a lot of time together.”

Rhiannon glanced over the jar of poppy seeds to Gwen, and noticed her jaw tightening. Rhi looked at their mother, and realized that she mother didn’t know she was hitting a weak point.

“We had a baking night every weekend, too, so I brought cinnamon rolls and cookies to sell, too,” their mother continued. “She taught me the best way to make chocolate crinkles. In a lot of ways, she was my best friend…”

Their mother went on and on about how much time she’d spent with Grandma Judith, and Rhi watched as her sister’s lips slowly scrunched and she bit the inside on her lip. Her eyes narrowed and she stirred faster and more vigorously, harder and harder as their mother talked about summer picnics and kite-flying and piano recitals and painting murals on her bedroom walls…

Like a rubber band that’s been stretched too far, Gwen snapped. The batter bowl hit the floor with a loud clatter, flinging chocolate brownie batter absolutely everywhere, with bits of it sticking on various cabinets and clothes and hair.

“Gwen,” began her mother, dropping her spoon and turned to face the younger daughter, a deeply confused look on her features. “What on-”

“Stop it!” screamed Gwen, flinging the spoon to the ground. It bounced and nearly hit Rhi’s leg. “Stop going on and on about things Rhi and I never got to have and never will have because you’re too weak and abandoned us after our father died. Just shut up!”

She pushed past their mother and ran up the sound, a loud thump telling the household that she’d slammed the door closed.

A very awkward silence descended. Rhiannon stood staring at her mother, her jaw slightly dropped, the spoon slightly above the bowl she’d been stirring. Her mother was pale and shaking, and looked like she’d be sick. She slowly turned to Rhi.

“I should go talk to her, right?” she asked, as though looking for approval. Rhi nodded.

“I’ll clean up.”

“Right,” breathed her mother. “And…I’m sorry.”

Before Rhi could respond, her mother was gone. She dropped the spoon and set the bowl on the counter, and picked up a wash cloth from the kitchen sink. She turned on the hot water and soaked the rag in it, and then began wiping down the floor. She took a moment to pick up the bowl, dump the remaining batter in the trash can and then rinse it out in the sink. Then she wiped down the counters.

She could understand why Gwen was upset. Her mother was reminding them of all the things they didn’t get to have. Sure, their mother came for visits, and the visits were pleasant. They baked together, went to the river, had dinner together…but they’d never have anything that they did together every weekend. They’d never have the same kind of friendly bond she’d had with her mother. There would be so few stories they could tell their own kids one day. They had been cheated of both their father and their mother.

All because of some stupid society that wanted to remain a secret.

With a growl of frustration, Rhiannon took off her robe in order to scrub at the chocolate spots on it. They would probably stain. It was her favorite robe, too.

“Well,” her mother said, coming back into the room, “She didn’t say much and wouldn’t open the door, but I think things are okay now.”

“Great,” muttered Rhi. She stood and threw the rag in the sink. Everything but her robe was cleaned of the spilled batter.

“Sorry.”

Rhi knew that was about as much as her mother could say about the situation. “It’s okay.”

“She probably would like to see you. I’ll clean up down here.”

Rhiannon nodded, and left the kitchen. She headed up the stairs quickly and tried to walk into her room, but the door was locked.

“I said I don’t want to see you right now, mom,” snapped Gwen.

Rhiannon rested her forehead against the door. Her heart hurt for her sister. Sometimes she thought too much of her sister being the strong one. Maybe they needed to talk more. “It’s me, Gwen. Let me in.”

She heard quick movement inside, and then pulled open the door. Mascara had run down her cheeks, but there was a big smile on her face. “Do you have the tape?”

Rhi frowned in confusion. “What? No, I-”

“Go find some, quick! I got it.”

Rhi’s jaw dropped. “You got it? It’s done?”

“Yeah, I put it together. Go find some tape before it gets screwed up.”

Rhiannon turned and practically ran down the hall, opening the door to her grandfather’s office. She stopped when she realized that her grandfather was sitting at his desk, smoking from a pipe and looking through various financial newspapers.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry, Grandpa Gerold. I thought you’d gone to bed…”

He looked up from his newspapers, looking confused for a moment. Then he smiled. “It’s alright, Rhiannon,” he said, setting down on of the papers and waving her in. “Come in. What are you looking for?”

Rhiannon moved around the heavy door and walked into the office a couple of steps, enjoying the thicker red carpet beneath her feet. “I’m just looking for some tape. I uh…accidentally tore a page in one of Gwen’s books.”

Grandpa Gerold’s eyebrows raised. “Which of Gwen’s books are you reading?”

Rhi felt the edges of her mouth turning up in a small smile. “Pride and Prejudice. I couldn’t remember the first sentence and I knew it was supposed to be really memorable.”

“Right,” laughed Grandpa Gerold. “I’m glad it wasn’t one of those romance novels. Here…” he said, opening a drawer. Rhiannon took a few steps forward to his large, cherrywood desk.

She accepted the tape and smile. “Thanks. I’ll be back with it in a few,” she said, turning and heading for the door.

“Rhiannon?” her grandfather’s voice stopped her. She turned around slowly.

“Yes?”

“Was Gwen shouting at your mother earlier?”

Rhi bit her tongue, not wanting to get her sister into any trouble. But she couldn’t just lie to him…it was pretty obvious what had been going on. “Yes.”

“And she threw things?”

“Yes.”

“About her leaving?”

“Yes.”

“It’s about time,” said her grandfather, pulling off his reading glasses and dropping them on the desk.

Rhiannon stood still, shocked into speechlessness. What did he mean? She was sure he would have gotten angry with Gwen, but he seemed…pleased.

“Um…if you say so?” she ended up saying weakly.

Her grandfather took a deep inhale of his pipe before replying. “Gwen’s been keeping all that anger locked up for far too long. It had to come out eventually. I’m glad it came out in a healthy way.”

“Throwing batter is healthy?”

“Better than some alternatives,” said Grandpa Gerold, holding up a glass of bourbon as an example.

“I guess you’re right,” Rhiannon breathed. She hadn’t thought of it that way. “There are a lot of other things she could have done.”

Her grandfather sighed. “Your mother probably won’t tell you this…”

Rhiannon blinked. She shut the office door and walked back to the front of her grandfather’s desk, taking a seat at the leather chair in front of it. “Mom won’t tell me what?” She felt her heart racing a little. Did they know something about the society, and just wanted to wait until she was older until they told her? What a relief that would be.

“She’s admitted herself to a psychiatric camp,” he said, putting his pipe out. He set it aside as he continued. “It’s like going to a hospital, only a little more casual. She’ll be staying at their camp facilities for three weeks, five if they think she could make more progress. There’ll be classes and therapy sessions and all that. I think she’s just starting to realize what she did to you girls and how mentally and emotionally weak she’s been since…well, since your father died. But she was never a very strong person, to be honest. Kind and sensitive, but not very strong.”

Rhiannon felt a little dizzy. She wasn’t sure what to say in response. She wasn’t even sure how she felt about this. Relieved, most likely. But also a little hurt her mother hadn’t told her – though she assumed her mother was ashamed – and…well, happy. It was about time her mother went and got some help.

“She should tell Gwen, at least,” she responded finally. “Gwen deserves to know that mom won’t be visiting for a while.”

“Your mother was planning to call from the camp, I believe.”

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “Of course she was.”

Her grandfather gave her a sharp look, and Rhiannon bit her lip and looked away. She knew he didn’t approve of when she made her irritation with her mother known. Her mother was, after all, his daughter. But sometimes Rhiannon just couldn’t keep it back. She probably had some issues to work on, too. Maybe she should get a therapist.

“Don’t tell your sister, Rhiannon. It’s not your responsibility,” said Grandpa Gerold. “I shouldn’t have told you, but you need to be prepared for Gwen’s disappointment.”

Rhiannon nodded. She wasn’t sure if she could keep this secret, but she’d try. Maybe attempt to convince her mother to tell Gwen face-to-face.

As she left the office, she realized that more than anything, she was disappointed that this burden wasn’t taken from her and her sister. They still had to look into their father’s murder on their own.

She headed down the hall and opened the door to their room, biting her lip and hoping her sister wouldn’t notice that something was off.

“Oh good, come here,” her sister waved for her from the vanity, where she was hunched over the document. “I think it’s German!”

Rhiannon closed and locked the door behind her, and quickly walked up to her sister. They spent a few moments in silence taping it together, and once it was together they both leaned back and tilted their heads.

“Well, it’s definitely German, it’s one of their national languages” said Rhiannon, pointing to a seal of Switzerland’s flag in the corner. “But I only know bits and pieces. Do you know much?”

“No,” said Gwen, tracing her hand over the document. It looked like some sort of certificate, with a lot of red letters and numbers. “But I can get a book from the school library on Monday.”

“Sounds good,” sighed Rhi. “I wish we could figure out what it says now, but online translators are always so…off.”

Gwen nodded in agreement. “Well, I guess there’s nothing to do but wait.”

“Well, hold on,” said Rhiannon, leaning in to look a bit closer. She noticed some familiar number amounts, and went to Gwen’s bed to grab a few of the bank statements. She went back to the pieced-together document and compared the numbers, flipping through the bank statements. “It looks like someone was taking the money out of these accounts and putting it into this one.”

“It’s some kind of bank certificate?” asked Gwen, sounding surprised. She began scanning the document, and then pointed near the end. “There. Someone was pulling the money out, too. See?”

Rhi did see. The money was being put into the account in 25,000 increments and being taken out in much larger numbers, such as 80,000 and 150,000. What on earth was going on? And who was doing this? And why hadn’t anyone realized it yet?

Rhi sighed, dropping the bank statements onto the vanity beside the puzzle document. “I guess we’ll have to wait and translate the whole thing to see what’s going on. And maybe find out where this money was going to.”

“Hopefully we can find some more clues…” muttered Gwen.

“Hopefully.”

#what fates impose #original #original work #writer #writing #write #vampires #drama #romance #secret societies #secret society #nanowrimo #nanowrimo novel #nano

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artificialimaginationxo · 13 years ago

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SHADOWS - Chapter Four: Dark Clouds (Harry Potter)

She has heard a whisper.

A post-DH, dark Tom/Ginny fanfiction involving madness, manipulation and poetry.

- - - -

As Ginny slept, her candles continued to burn. Wax dripped down them, forming pools on her windowsill and dripping down the edge like a water droplet. The smoke from the candles curled high into the air, and the smell from the smoke, wax and the sweet smells of wine and roses and wildflowers filled her room. Hours after she'd fallen asleep, the flame on the blue candle began to grow as it ran out of wick, sparking bits of fire around it. One of the sparks touched the curtain, which caused a spark. That spark grew into a flame. The flame fed on the fabric and oxygen around it, slowly building until it was more then a single flame, but a bright fire that sent dangerous sparks around the room.

Smoke began to fill the small bedroom, and Shikoba woke, uneasy. It nudged it's sleeping mistress, but she didn't stir. She was deep asleep, lost in the kind of dreams that hold you down in them no matter how you try to escape. By the time she would wake, her bed could be aflame. The bird squawked, trying to wake her again to no avail.

From somewhere above Ginny, soft thunder sounded. The air above her bed began to swirl and then to form white clouds that turned to silver, grey and then nearly to black. Heavy raindrops fell from the clouds above her, putting out the fire and soaking everything but the books and the bed, including Shikoba and Ginny. The flames gone, the storm dispersed and the thunder rolled one last time. A bright flash of lightning and it was over.

While Ginny slept, she had pushed her blankets to the foot of her bed. Now her quilt seemed to float along the surface of the bed and around Ginny's body, protecting her from the now chilly air in her room. Ginny groaned, and then rolled from her left side to her right. Shikoba curled up beside her and fell back asleep.

Ginny woke the next morning, blinking from the sun streaming in through her window. Odd, she thought the curtains had been closed…she turned her head to glare at them, and sat up suddenly when she noticed that half of one was missing. Further examination showed the evidence of rain everywhere but her bed and bookshelf.

She threw the quilt off of her and leapt out of bed and then ran her hand over the ledge of her window, feeling it still slightly slick, like the floor beneath her bare feet. Her candles were almost completely – oh. Oh. She'd been so exhausted, she left the candles burning all night. They must have caught the curtain on fire. And then…what? Had she cast some sort of spell in her sleep?

You are not quite that powerful yet, dear Kore.

Ginny's eyed widened. For a little while, she'd almost forgotten all about him.

"Wait…" she mouthed the words more then said them. But that didn't matter; he clamed to hear her thoughts anyway. "Did you – did you st…?"

Start the fire? Or stop it?

"Start," she said, but immediately shook her head. "Stop. Both?"

Why would I both start and stop the fire?

"Stop, then," Ginny decided, staring blankly out her window and the wide open field that was filled with sunshine. "Did you put it out?"

Yes, I did.

"But…why?" she asked, genuinely confused as to why the Dark Lord would put out a fire in her bedroom, after all the rest he'd done to her. There was a long silence, and Ginny reached up to touch the bottom of what was left of her curtain. The blackened edge of the curtain fell into her hand and turned to ash.

The voice of Tom Riddle did not answer. She sighed, rolled her eyes. He had been lying. He must have started the fire. Voldemort would never –

Lord Voldemort is dead.

"Would you stop saying that!" she exclaimed, bringing a fist down on the ledge.

"Stop saying what?" came a confused voice behind her. Ginny whirled around to face Ron.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Um, I just keep thinking about a fight I had with – with Percy. What is it?"

Ron shrugged. "Harry, Hermione and I are headed to the Ministry today for another interview about what happened. D'you want to go? We could all meet up afterward, maybe go to Diagon Alley."

She desperately wanted to say yes. She hadn't been out in ages, and to see Harry would be wonderful. But as she opened her mouth the reply, a chill overtook her. She'd seen Tom Riddle's outline in her mirror out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look as her mirror, and instead of the image disappearing as it always did, it solidified. For a brief second, she looked directly into Tom's eyes. He winked, and disappeared.

She must have turned white, because Ron's eyes narrowed and lines appeared between his brows. "Gin? You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she forced out, but it wasn't very convincing. This was getting worse. Soon she wouldn't be able to go out at all…maybe she couldn't already. "I think I'll skip this one. I'm not feeling very well."

Ron nodded. "Okay. See you later." He turned, but then paused and turned back, staring at her floor. "Hey, Gin, why's your floor all wet?"

Ginny swallowed. "I was um…mopping. You know, the muggle way."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"It helps me think," she responded quickly. "You better go and meet Harry and Hermione."

Ron just nodded, and closed the door behind him. She listened to his foot steps as he walked away, and once he was down the stairs she turned to face the mirror.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" she demanded. "Why are you trying to isolate me, to drive me crazy?"

You know that already, Kore.

"Stop calling me by everything but my real name!"

I've called you your name before, Ginevra.

"That's not the point," she said, practically growling. She walked to the dresser and planted her hands atop it, staring into the mirror as though staring into Tom Riddle's face. "Why do you keep talking in code, Tom? Why don't you talk to me straight?"

No response. How irritating.

"Fine, I'll go figure out your little code," she spat, turning around and heading out the door. "And then I'll figure out how to get rid of you once and for all."

Finally, after four hours searching the library, she found it.

It was inside an old, worn copy of a book called Edith Hamilton's Mythology. At first the only thing she'd found was 'Kora', but after talking to a librarian she discovered that 'Kore' was another name used for the same person (and that 'kore' meant 'young maiden').

The reference for 'Kora' in the book led to 'Persephone', another name Tom talked about often. First she read the story of Persephone from the point of view of her mother, Demeter. This was not terribly interesting, but it gave the basics. Persephone had been a young goddess, who was out playing in the fields when she was kidnapped suddenly by the Lord of the Underworld, Hades. She was forced into marriage with him, and when the King of the Gods, Zeus, ordered Hades to return her, he tricked her into eating a seed of a pomegranate. She was then condemned to living in the Underworld for four months of every year, since the food grown in the Underworld was cursed. So she spent part of her life with her mother at Olympus, and part trapped in the Underworld with her husband.

The only part that reminded her at all of Tom was the part where Persephone was sometimes referred to as 'the maiden whose name may not be spoken'. But Tom seemed to find other things he liked, repeating them in her head after she'd read the passage.

" Her husband knew he must obey the word of Zeus and send her up to earth away from him, but prayed her as she left him to have kind thoughts of him and not be so sorrowful that she was the wife of one who was great among the immortals.'" He quoted after she'd flipped back to the index, searching for more about Persephone.

She didn't even attempt to understand. She knew that if she told him toe stop speaking in code, he would stop speaking to her altogether. Which would be nice if it was permanent, but he would reappear at some inopportune time. It was better to keep him talking and try to find some clue about how to get rid of him.

Admit that the reason you refuse to think on my comments it because you are afraid.

"Afraid of what?" she whispered back bitterly, glancing around to be sure no one could overhear her.

Afraid of their meaning. Afraid of what it means for me to speak them.

"Like what?" she said, but still, at the edge of her mind she remembered the two quotes she had read the night before. But she refused to pay attention to them, to give them any weight. They were just words, words that were meaningless to someone as heartless as he was.

Lord Voldemort was heartless.

"Lord Voldemort is dead," she whispered, knowing it was coming. "You are dead."

I am not ghost, nor Inferi, nor a portrait. How am I speaking to you if I am dead?

"I don't know," Ginny admitted, slamming her book closed. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

Maybe you should ask Hades.

Ginny rolled her eyes, deciding she was finished with pointless discussions with dead dark wizards inside her head. Besides, Shikoba would be hungry by now. It was time she went back home.

#harry potter #hp #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #ginny #tom #ginny weasely #tom riddle #tom/ginny #ginny/tom #gin and tonic

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artificialimaginationxo · 13 years ago

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ISIS - Chapter Three: Questions (the Mummy)

“I’m not Isis.” “You are. You simply do not realize it yet.”

Alex's friend Paige accidentally brings Imhotep back from the dead. Oddly, Imhotep seems to know her...

An AU Mummy fanfiction set in modern times, in which an overdramatic teenage girl accidentally brings Imhotep back from the dead, and learns more about love, her past and ancient Egypt than she ever thought possible.

- - - -

"Alex O'Connell," Ardeth Bey sighed as though he'd expected this. "What are you doing here?"

Alex glanced at their surroundings, surprised to have found Ardeth in a tunnel of Hamunapta. Though he should have expected it (the Med-Jai were, of course, charged with protecting Hamunaptra) he was still surprised. He'd never seen Ardeth actually in Egypt before. Then again, the last time he'd seen Ardeth he'd been about eight.

Ardeth was looking impatiently at Alex.

"My family is here for vacation," explained Alex. "Jonathan, Paige – my friend here, who's staying with us – and I are here on a tour."

Ardeth moved his torch around, looking behind Paige and Alex. He frowned.

"I do not see Jonathan or the tour guide," Ardeth pointed out. "Also tours are not allowed in this part of Hamunaptra. I myself dare not go any further – it is unstable."

"Unstable!" Paige glared at Alex, hitting him in the shoulder. "You didn't tell me that!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know?"

"We ditched Jonathan and the tour," Paige volunteered, and then winced as Alex elbowed her in the ribs.

"You should know better then that, Alex O'Connell," Ardeth chided Alex. Alex gave a weak smile.

"Well…it gets worse."

"Worse? How?"

"Yeah, well, um…" Paige began, smiling weakly. "I, er, that is, we've been raising mummies back to life."

"What 'we'?" Alex demanded. "You're the one that read the spell!"

Paige turned to face Alex. "Well, you're the one who wanted to go in there in the first place!"

"But you-"

Ardeth held up his free hand to silence them and then spoke up. "This is not something to joke about!"

"I'm not joking," Paige insisted. "And it gets worse. I accidentally raised Imhotep."

"The-the Creature?" Ardeth looked a little pale. "That is not possible!"

"Actually, it is. She did it," Alex said, glaring at Paige.

"What?" Paige asked innocently. "It's not like I did it on purpose!"

"How?" Ardeth demanded. "The Book is-"

"I didn't use the book. I saw some glowing writing – hieroglyphs, I mean – nearby. It got brighter and changed colors as I got closer. I kind of…like, lost myself. It felt like nothing in the world existed but the writing. And then I felt myself talking, and then Alex shook me out of it."

"What did you say?" Ardeth demanded.

"No idea."

Alex decided to speak up. "She said something like 'I call Imhotep to me' and something about understanding him…which might be why he can now speak English."

Ardeth looked rather pale for a man who lived in the desert. "That is not possible."

"Are you missing everything we said?" Paige asked, frustrated. "We're not stupid enough to pull this as a practical joke! I know it's serious, I know I practically just doomed the whole freaking world, and I-"

Paige stopped abruptly, hearing a scratching sound coming from the walls. Alex and Ardeth seemed to hear it too, and they both looked around in panic.

"What's that?" asked Alex, pressing his ear to the wall to get a better clue as to what the sound could be. Ardeth reached out and jerked Alex away from the wall.

"Scarabs. Run!" Ardeth threw the torch behind them and it went out as soon as it hit the ground.

"But we're in the dark!" Paige panicked. "We could run into a wall, or snakes!"

"I know this place well enough," insisted Ardeth, grabbing both Alex and Paige by the shoulders and pushing them ahead of him. "And there are no snakes down here – the scarabs eat them!"

He pushed them ahead as he ran full out behind them, keeping them moving down the corridors. Paige screamed as the small scratching sound in the wall turned into an almost deafening sound behind them, meaning that a flood of the beetles were behind them, chasing them down. Ardeth shoved them down another passageway. Paige nearly tripped over her feet at the sudden turn.

"Jump," ordered Ardeth and the kids jumped obediently up in the air. They felt the top of some sort of debris scrap the bottom of their feet, and then they hit sand again when they came down. When Paige's body nearly gave out, Alex gripped her waist and dragged her along with him. Slowly the sound of the scarabs began to disappear behind them. As they turned another corner, they ran directly into something soft. Paige looked up at what was blocking their path, only to see a very shaken Jonathan holding a backpack and a bright flashlight.

"Jonathan!" Paige exclaimed.

"What?"

"Run!"

"From what?" asked Jonathan in a panic. "Run from what?"

"They're gone," Ardeth interrupted, sounding shocked. Paige glanced behind her. They were, indeed, gone.

"How?" Paige asked.

"What? What's gone?" Jonathan wanted to know, confused as usual.

"The scarabs," answered Alex, looking all around them, hoping the beetles wouldn't show up again. Jonathan flinched.

"Oh. Right," He looked at Ardeth. "What're you doing here?"

"I live here."

"Right."

Jonathan was not being near as chatty as usual. Even if he was scared, he'd be mumbling about something about gambling or finding riches.

"What's wrong?" Paige asked, concerned.

"Well…I kind of met those little buggers earlier, while the tour guide and I were looking for you."

There was silence.

Paige finally spoke up. "Is he…?"

"He made it out. Barely," Jonathan scowled. "We got separated, though."

"They have raised the Creature from the dead once more," Ardeth informed Jonathan.

"Well, you certainly waste no time, do you?" Jonathan shrugged the backpack off and held it out to Paige. "And I'm not carrying your stuff anymore." Paige took it with a roll of her eyes and slipped the backpack over her shoulders.

Ardeth was not amused. "You should leave immediately."

"Yeah, I'm sure we'd be glad to do that," Alex began, "But I really have no idea where we are."

"Neither do I," Jonathan added.

"Who's Isis?" asked Paige out of the blue.

Ardeth looked at her, frowning, with lines forming between his brows. "Who are you?"

"Paige Woods," she introduced herself, offering her hand. "My mom's one of Evy's old friends. Now, who is Isis?"

Ardeth ignored the offered hand, frustrated that these people didn't seem to see the dire situation they were all in. "Isis is the sister-wife of Osiris, the Goddess-"

"Oh, I know that," Paige scoffed. "I mean someone Imhotep would have known. That's what he kept calling me…'Isis'."

Ardeth abruptly bent down to Paige's level, looking directly into her eyes. Paige squirmed as he seemed to be studying her.

"No…it cannot be," Ardeth finally said softly.

"What?" asked Paige, feeling nervous with the Med-Jai's gaze so intensely on her. "What 'cannot be'?"

Ardeth looked as though he would be crossing himself, if he were Catholic. "It simply cannot be."

"What?" Paige insisted.

Ardeth swiftly stood to his full height again. "You should leave immediately. I shall take you to wherever it is you are staying, but first I need to stop at the camp."

"Thanks," said Alex.

"Yes, yes, thanks a lot," Jonathan said sarcastically. Every time he ran into this guy, horrible things happened. He was less then pleased at finding him again.

Paige, however, wouldn't let up. "No. No way, no changing the subject. Who is Isis?"

Ardeth ignored her, taking Jonathan's flashlight from him and walking around the group to lead them down the corridor. Jonathan turned and began following immediately.

"Hey, I was-" Paige began, but stopped when Alex wrapped an arm around her.

"Don't bother. He'll answer when he's ready."

Paige sighed, but then allowed herself to be led away by Alex, hoping her questions would eventually be answered.

#isis #the mummy #the mummy returns #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #write #writer #mummy fanfic #mummy fanfiction #artificialimagination

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artificialimaginationxo · 13 years ago

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WHAT FATES IMPOSE - Chapter Three. (Original Work)

“So they are some kind of blood-drinking cult?” “Oh, they are most certainly blood drinkers, Miss Little. But they are no cult.”

A story about family, vampires, secret societies and murder. The NaNoWriMo draft of my novel.

- - - -

Rhiannon had gone through two boxes, and was finally on the third. She carefully examined every bit of paper, whether whole or scrap, but had found nothing. No hint of why her father had killed himself. Just half-written speeches and reminders to pick up chocolate milk on the way home from work, or messages written by his secretary telling him that one his daughters got chicken pox or that some press agent had called for a quote. There was nothing useful.

In frustration, Rhi dropped the pile of papers and picked up the coffee her mother had brought up two hours ago. It was ice cold and almost empty, but she drunk down the last few drops eagerly. It was much later than she usually stayed up, much later than she had stayed up since high school. But she was determined to find something before she went to sleep. She refused to even comprehend that there wasn’t an answer hidden somewhere, that by all right she should have lost hope that she would ever know why her daddy had committed suicide when everything appeared to be going well.

Setting the cup down, she turned her head and looked around at the yellow filing cabinet. It had a lock on it, and she remembered that the key for it was lost somewhere, possibly in the attic. A quick look around told her that finding that key would take days. It occurred to her now that perhaps she ought to give up, at least for the night. Exhaustion was setting in and she couldn’t stifle a yawn. It was so late that she would be needing to get up in about four hours if she was going to get a jog in before going to the bakery. Although at this point she couldn’t even remember if she was working the next day or not…

The yellow filing cabinet sat there beside her, still and filled with pieces of her father’s life, bits of his writing and schedules of his life days before he ended it. How could she not open it and see what it contained? If anything held his secrets, then it would be this locked container.

Suddenly she felt as though it were mocking her.

In anger, she rose to her feet and tried to shove it over, but it only rocked onto its back two corners. She tried again, think time grounding her feet and using all of her strength. Her arms were fairly weak but her legs were almost nothing but pure, toned muscle. It rocked back and it the floor and shook, but didn’t all open. Rhi pushed it onto its side, and then picked up a folded metal chair. Forgetting that there were other people in the house that were deep in sleep, she hit the cabinet hard with the blue metal chair. It shook, but nothing opened. She hit it again and again, violently, eyes closed tight. Suddenly she wasn’t beating a filing cabinet, but attacking her feelings of abandonment. Her father had died rather than stay with her family, her mother had left her and her sister – both small children – with someone else to take care of. She had grown up without parents. Every child should have parents that were there and together and taking care of them, but she’d been cheated of that. They didn’t care enough to stay with them!

“I-hate-you,” she said with every hit, but she wasn’t saying it to either of her parents. She wasn’t even saying it to any entity; she was screaming at the hand fate had dealt her and her sister. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they didn’t get to have a normal family when everything had been so perfect. But that happiness had only lasted a few short years, and then was cruelly ripped away.

It wasn’t fair.

Spent, Rhiannon opened her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Hoping she hadn’t woken anyone up, she glanced at the door. It was still as closed and silent as ever. She looked down at the cabinet. It was dented severely, and one of the drawers were bent out of shape so that part of the top was open.

Releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, she set aside the relatively unscathed chair and knelt down on the floor. She tried to get a good look inside the drawer, but it was too dark to be able to see anything. Slowly she slipped a hand inside, and the tips of her fingers brushed against something that felt like thick paper. Maybe she could reach inside and pull the papers out? Careful not to get stuck, she pushed her arm further in until she winced at the pinch around her upper arm. She moved her hand down and managed to get a solid grip around the thick paper, and slowly pulled her arm out. It took some work to fit the thick papers through the opening, but after some twisting her wrist back and forth she pulled the papers out, bent bunt not permanently damaged.

The thick paper she’d grabbed was an unmarked manila folder. Curious, Rhi reached inside and slid some of the papers out. There weren’t any contracts or flyers or calendars as she’d expected, but instead little squares of paper and rectangles that looked something like receipts. Upon close inspection, Rhiannon realized that the receipts were actually bank statements. It looked as though money was being transferred from one account to another, though she couldn’t be quite sure since most of them were in different languages.

Following the numbers from one paper to another and comparing them to the date stamped at the top, she noticed that 25,000 in euros and dollars - and an amount she assumed was about the same amount of money in other currency, such as yen – was being put into bank accounts all over the world and then being transferred to certain banks in England, France, Australia and the United States. And from there the money was removed and completely disappeared.

What was going on? And why would her father have this information saved in a locked drawer?

Quickly, Rhi looked at the squares of paper, but couldn’t tell what they were supposed to be. It looked like it was in a language she didn’t recognize, but the words cut off so suddenly it might have been English. The edges of the squares were rough, as though someone had cut them unevenly. In fact, it almost looked like a puzzle.

She gnawed at the inside of her lip, then laid all the square bits in front of her, face-up. Yes, it was a puzzle. Someone had cut this document. But why? And how on earth was she going to put it all back together when she didn’t know the language?

With a sigh, Rhiannon realized she had to try. These things were so unusual – why had her father kept them? What did it mean? Did it have something to do with his unexpected suicide?

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she leaned over and tried to recall everything her grandfather had taught her about puzzles. He loved doing them and sometimes bought ones with 50,000 pieces and put them together in a day. He’d been doing them since he was a boy and had a large collection of them glued together and framed and hanging in his office. He’d tried to get his granddaughters into them, but though Gwen had a talent for them neither of them had a taste for staring down bits of things and trying to fit them together.

Rhiannon had never been any good at the puzzles. Now she was trying to put together two impossible ones at once – the papers in front of her, and the reason why her father had chosen to die.

Well, she remembered that she needed to put the corners in the right places first. The corners were easy enough to spot, and she had them in place in a few seconds. But what about the rest? There were no uneven edges to suggest how they were supposed to fit together. There was a wax seal in one of the corners, but without knowing what it was supposed to look like it would be impossible to fit together. She might as well have been trying to put together a glass that had shattered into a million pieces. So without knowing the picture of the puzzle, she was stuck trying to remember more of Grandpa Gerold’s tricks. Something about the edges. Slowly, she began lining up the edges, though it was hard to tell which edge was supposed to go where. After a few minutes she got them all lined up like a frame, but after closer examination she realized some of the thick line around the edges didn’t match up.

With a growl of frustration, Rhi grabbed an old shoe box and stuffed the pieces inside. She’d have to figure it out when it was lighter and she had more sleep. Maybe Gwen would help, if she could convince her little sister to have anything to do with their father’s old things.

Pushing the box aside, she looked back at the filing cabinet. Was there anything else inside? And if so, how was she going to get at it? The key would take too long to find. Could she pry it open? Was it even worth all the work?

She stood and dusted off her jeans, and then her hands as she looked around the crowded attic for something that could help her pry it open. Nothing revealed itself immediately, but she did spot an old flashlight sitting on top of a broken dresser. Rhi walked over to it, careful not to bump her shin on anything on the way over. Anxiously, she picked up the flashlight, held her breath, and switched it on. There was a light – a dim one, but it was better than nothing. She walked back to the filing cabinet, hissing in pain when she slammed her knee into one of the old trunks.

Once she got to the cabinet, she shined the flashlight into the hole she’d created. She could spot a couple more folders at the bottom that she hadn’t quite been able to reach. And there was the other drawer to think about. What was she going to do?

Standing again, she looked around, using the flashlight to aim her gaze. The attic light was on, but it was weak and it was still very dark outside the windows, though soon enough the sky would be turning grey and then streaking with bright orange and pale pink. It was looking like a sleepless night for her. Not that she’d be able to sleep with this mystery locked up over her head.

Suddenly, she spotted a crowbar leaning in a corner with other various tools and auto parts. She jumped over bits of junk and narrowly avoided cutting into her leg and managed to reach the corner. She grabbed the crow bar and walked back over, then turned the flashlight off and set it aside. Sticking one end of the crow bar into the drawer, she pushed up on it hard. She did this again and again until the bolt that kept the drawer locked was revealed. It was thin and had rusted over time. It didn’t look like it could put up much resistance if attempted to be broken. So she took a step back, aimed the crowbar carefully, then hit the bolt hard. Once, twice, three times. Rhi leaned forward to check the damage. It was bent, but not broken. She sighed, then stepped back and began hitting it again. Four, five, six, seven. Still nothing. Eight, ni-

Snap! The lock fell into the drawer. Excitedly, Rhi dropped the crow bar and tore the drawer open, lifting the various folders out. There weren’t very many, but they were filled with more papers. She set them aside and looked at the bottom drawer. How was she going to get in there? Carefully, she moved the cabinet around, trying to find some weak point. Thin metal, or a panel kept in place with screws. But there was nothing. With yet another sigh, she rested her head against the cool metal.

There was a rattling at the attic door. With a jump, she turned and instinctively grabbed the crow bar to defend herself with.

It was only her grandmother, carrying a coffee mug

“Grandma Judith!” Rhiannon breathed. “You scared me half to death.”

“So I can see, Rhiannon Estelle,” said Grandma Judith, nodding to the crow bar in her granddaughter’s hand. “The banging up here woke me up earlier. Have you been up all night?”

Rhiannon set the crow bar down carefully at her feet. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to finish going through all dad’s things, but I couldn’t find the key for the filing cabinet. I’m sorry I woke you up, I’ll be quieter.”

“The key for the filing cabinet?” repeated her grandmother, making her way to Rhiannon. “It’s in the top drawer of his desk.”

Rhiannon looked behind her at the large, pinewood desk. At the left were three drawers, and the top one was partially empty. She closed the few steps between her and the desk and pulled the drawer out a little further. There it was, the little bronze key on an otherwise empty keychain. She pulled the desk out of the drawer, turned to look at the permanently damaged filing cabinet, and then to her grandmother.

She smiled sheepishly. “Oops. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I imagined you needed to release some frustration,” said Grandma Judith, setting the coffee down on top of an old end table near the filing cabinet. “I poured you some coffee, and now that you have a key, I’m going to bed. Go ahead and take today off, too. I don’t think you’ll be much good on only a few hours of sleep, and I’m sure we can manage without you for the day. I’ll just talk Gerold to stay a little later to help close.”

“I’m so sorry,” sighed Rhiannon. “I just…I need to…”

“I know,” said her grandmother, smiling. “I’ll see you later. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Rhi responded, and watched her grandmother leave the room. She went to the cup of coffee and took a quick sip. It was black, but she was grateful. The pick-me-up was desperately needed.

Now that she had the key, she knelt in front of the filing cabinet. After moving it upright again, she put the small bronze key inside and twisted. She pushed the tips of her fingers under the handle, and pulled it open. A quick look inside led her to a groan of disappointment. There was nothing else. Oh, well – at least now she could focus her attention on the rest of the folders.

After taking the key and slipping it into her pocket, she turned to the papers and picked up the top file. She opened it and out slid more small pieces of paper, though these looked a little more like business cards. Most of them fell on the floor, but she had a few in her lap. She picked one up and examined it.

In the left hand corner was some sort of emblem that had the outline of a shield in black and filled in with grey, with a thick red cross in the center of it, though it looked like maybe the ink had dripped. Or was that supposed to be blood? Curved over the top and bottom was dark blue lettering that looked like it belonged in an Olde English book. Over the top read ‘Consanguine’ and at the bottom read ‘Umbrae’. In the middle of the card was the name ‘Annabelle Martin’, and below that ‘Member’ and underneath that the words ‘Pulvis et Umbra’. The other cards were all the same, though they each had a different name on them. Oscar Moeau, Noah Lindberg, Maude Claes, Niccolo Damiani and Giovanni Bosco were a few of the ones on her lap, but there were twenty or so others. She piled them into the box with the puzzle document, to look up the words ‘Consanguine Umbrae’ and ‘Pulvis et Umbra’ online later. Maybe they were Latin?

The next folder held empty envelopes, some normal and others oversized. They all were addressed to ‘James David Little’ and had the address of his old workplace on them, as well as postage…but no return address. She opened each of them – there were over thirty of them – and then stuffed them back into the folder. What were they meant for? Had someone sent this stuff to her father? For what purpose? Did they want him to look at all those people, into the bank transfers? Was something illegal going on?

And if so…had these people realized that someone was telling him what was going on?

And of all people, why her father?

Rhiannon bit her lip and picked up the next folder, a little afraid to see what was within it. She felt strangely like a little girl reading her sister’s diary, like she was looking at things that were never meant for her eyes and that if she were caught reading them, something terrible would happen. Maybe there was a good reason for that feeling…or maybe she was just dreading seeing what was in the next folder. Either way, she couldn’t stop now.

She picked up the next folder, slid her hand inside and pulled out a few Polaroid’s. A tall, thin man with a square jaw and kind brown eyes stared out of the photograph, his dirty blonde hair messy but covered by a brown fedora. He seemed to be looking past the camera and at the photographer, looking a little annoyed and confused.

It was her father.

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt a sharp pain in her chest. Rhi hadn’t looked at a picture of him in years and seeing his face so suddenly was a shock. She felt rather like she’d been thrust into icy cold water, though she could almost hear the wind rushing through her ears, even though she was outside. She had to close her eyes and take a few deep, calming breaths in order to regain some semblance of control, though she felt tears running down her face anyway. She set the folder down and picked up the cup of coffee and downed half of it, even though it burned a path of fire down her throat. It was enough to shake her out of her sudden emotional whirlpool, enough to keep her from being dragged down into despair.

But why had someone sent her father a picture of himself?

Desperately, she began flipping through the photographs. Most were taken from far away and at night so it was difficult to recognize the blurry image of her father. But there he was, leaving work and outside the house and in the back garden they once had and inside the bakery and…

And there was a picture of her at age seven, sitting across from him in a boat on the river, taking a bite of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. A moment of happiness frozen in time. Whoever this person was sending photos, she was grateful that he’d included this memory. Although, she admitted to herself a moment later, it had probably been sent for sinister reasons.

There weren’t many pictures of him, but it they were obviously all taken over different periods of time – in one he still had a beard which he’d kept shaved off years before buying the house – and there were enough of them that it was…alarming. Was it some sort of threat? Obviously someone had been following him for a long time. Was it the same person who had sent these photos, and if so, why had they done something like that?

There were more and more questions and no answers, and really no conceivable way of gaining answers. She could ask her mother and grandparents, but if they’d known something about this they would have told her about it by now…wouldn’t they?

It was all just so strange. Rhiannon found it difficult to comprehend that someone had been sending her father these things, and that somehow these items she held in her hands were responsible for his death. Now she knew it hadn’t been as sudden as everyone had believed, but it wasn’t a comfort. Not until she knew why would she be content to move on. But how did all these pieces connect?

There was still another folder left. Rhiannon set aside the other bits of evidence and picked it up, taking out the paper inside. Again, they were clippings of something, newspaper this time. A couple were laminated, and the pieces inside were obviously very old and worn. The date showed at the top – 1912. That was a hundred years ago! She examined at the article quickly, and it said something about a man overdoing on laudanum and dying in his sleep. Another article from 1918 explained the death of a stage actress who had taken her own life. In 1924, a singer in Canada got drunk and slit his wrists. In the 30s, a journalist got drunk and fell off his hotel balcony. Another story in the 40s involved a budding film actress getting drunk and hanging herself.

The same sort of story repeated again and again, in various parts of the world – someone got drunk or high and then killed themselves, with no note and for apparently no reason. Family members and friends and coworkers all explained that their loved one was a happy person with everything in life to look forward to. There was absolutely no reason for them to have wanted to die.

Just like her father.

Oh, God.

Rhiannon flipped the article around, urgently searching for more information. On the back of one in neat, red handwriting was written ‘68 others’. Were there sixty-eight other suicides than the fifteen she had here? That made eighty-three deaths. Eighty-three people who one night became intoxicated then inexplicably killed themselves, or were killed by the drug.

She picked up the folder and looked inside, hoping to find other clues. Spotting a small white sheet of paper stuck to the side, she reached in and pulled it out. Written over it in black in and her father’s handwriting was ‘A cult of some kind?’ and beside it ‘83’. Rhiannon assumed that the number was now eighty-nine.

Below the writing her father had also written something else that puzzled Rhiannon.

‘Vampires’.

#what fates impose #original #original work #write #writing #writer #vampires #drama #romance #secret societies #secret society #nanowrimo novel #novel #nanowrimo

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