[Swan]

“Patch?” a young female voice calls out, “Paatch? Where are you buddy?” Amy steps out onto the back door of her 3-bedroom two-story house and scans the lush back yard. “Here kitty-kitty,” she yells as the screen door slams. As she takes a few more steps, the sun finds her long blonde hair and accentuates the pale highlights streaked throughout; her hazel eyes scan over the short fence to her neighbor’s yard and a pout turns her soft lips downward when she doesn’t spy her beloved cat.

Amy called out once more for the cat by his name and descended the steps, pausing at the last one. “Come on Patch… I know you’re out here. Answer me!” She was growing rather frustrated that he had ventured out of the house without her knowing and wondered what mischief he had gotten himself in.

Suddenly there was a faint meow heard coming from the side of the house. “Patch,” she said with a new excitement in her voice, “Come here kitty.” Just then the black and white tuxedo cat came running around the corner of the house, half meowing with each step. Amy knelt down and smiled as her cat jumped into her arms. She hugged him close to her and then held him out at arm’s length and narrowed her eyes. “You know better Patch. Why did you get out?” Of course the cat just stared at her and she eventually began to laugh and tucked the cat under her arm and turned to ascend the steps.

As soon as the screen door slammed again Amy dropped the cat upon the hardwood floor and he scurried off upstairs, no doubt to her room. She just shook her head and smiled, turning to return back to the sink full of dishes. The house was old but it was obvious that it had been remodeled. Amy tried to keep it as close to the original as she could with the exception of the kitchen, all stainless steel appliances and a huge island in the middle. It was obvious to anyone who entered the room that the person living there loved to cook, and she did. It was her second passion; her first being photography.

Amy was 26 years old and one of the most successful photographers in Alabama, possibly even in the entire southern states. She seemed to have an uncanny knack of catching moment’s at the most opportune time that made for Pulitzer Prize photos. Countless plaques and awards filled a wall and curio cabinet in the den of the old Victorian-style house along with a couple of her favorite photographs she took. Her career had taken her all over the world and her pictures had graced the covers of countless magazines. She was one of the few in the world that could say that she truly loved what she did for a living.

After Amy finished washing the dishes she retreated to the back porch with a glass of wine. Just as she had sat down upon the oversize porch swing she heard the screen door softly slam and turned just in time to watch her feline companion jump into her lap. She just laughed and took a sip from the wine glass. “So Patch, what shall we do tonight?” she asked, scratching the cat between the ears. She stared off into the distance and admired the beautiful color splayed upon the horizon and fading up into a darkening sky. Dusk was her favorite time of day and many an evening was spent on her back porch watching the sunset. She sighed and took another sip of wine then relaxed her head against the chain supporting the swing. “Life is good Patch,” she said softly, mindlessly petting the cat, “Very good.”

[Alexander Angellove]

Somewhere in the Caribean, north of Trinidad & Tobago, a week before:

A full white moon rose above the dark ocean that calmly and continuously tapped the gentle shores of the island. The beach so white as it was part of the pale moon's body, stretched in silence, with no apparent creature disturbing it's peaceful rest. The breath of the ebony giant betrayed the fear in his heart; such an impressive individual appeared so strangely freighetend by nothing but silence and shadows... As he ran towards the water, he stumbled and growled in frustration. Turning to look back with a terrified gaze in his huge eyes, the white moonlight revealed a decayed cheek - his jaw bone sticking out and part of his neck rotting in a horrible way. His eyes seemed to pop out even more as a horrified scream was released from his lungs. He fell prey to a wave that dragged him in the ocean, yet did not strugle. As a sudden weird peace invaded his body and soul, the black half-naked man let the enormous mass of water pull him away. His eyes froze in a weird fascination while floating face up towards the horizon. It would be the same fascination that the coroner on the other side of the golf would find so puzzling a few days later... The fascination which triggered a deadly curiousity...

Tonight:

The smell of the exotic flowers from the garden invaded the colonial mansion as Angelique fully opened the large glass doors of the balcony and nearby windows. The master so loved the scent of fresh ocean and those wonderful plants that she personally tended to. Hours passed since sunset, yet he seemed not to emerge so majestic as usual from the intimacy of his quarters. She tucked in her perfect short-sleeve white shirt and arranged it's tight collar that covered her delicate neck. Her maid uniform was impecable as always and, even though the high temperature of the island would have called for something less formal, she strongly refused to appear in front of her master in any other outfit. Mostly her whole life was dedicated to the creature she called "master", every gesture, every word, every breath she took in was, to some degree, affected or affecting the lord's comfort, happiness and/or safety. Mostly. As for the her other motivation factor... he was watching her with a critic eye in that specific moment, holding his perfectly ellegant posture at all times, even though now observing another one from the shadows. Somehow he knew it was a rude thing to do, but, as a higher rank, it was a privilege he could somtimes abuse.

Angelique held her hands behind her waist, approaching a large mirror. She examined the doll-like individual from the other side with a serious expression on her face. Her full lips curved in disapproval in a red pout, yet she didn't move. Her green eyes traced her own outline fast while her arched eyebrows frowned at the sight of the rebel curls that escaped the white bonet she wore. She arched her back, pushing her chest forward in a light stretch then nodded to herself.

"I can pull this off." she reassured herself and blew playfully at the curly strand that slipped over her right eye. The green gaze became alive in the white light that came in from the moon outside. Except for a few candles here and there, the mansion was dark as always lest Lord Greythorne commanded otherwise. Thinking of him again - a habit that she could not and would not renounce - pushed the petite` maid to lean towards incrusted massive oak door of the young master's bedroom. As she tried to focus on any sound that may escape the privacy of the room, a tap on the shoulder made her jump and back up against the door with a startled expression on her face.

"That will not do, miss Hartley" Sebastian said with that soft yet professional tone. "Should master Ciel catch you intruding upon his privacy, your position here, with us, would cetainly be in question. You wouldn't want that now, woud you, young miss?" he added with on that same note.

She babbled an excuse, with sudden freight upon her face, not for her job but obviously for the shame and suffering involved in such an unfortunate scenario. She bowed her head to the dark slim buttler that stood before her and quickly left the corridor, her footsteps betraying her descent to the foyer. Sebastian couldn't help but smile at her reaction, but didn't let the moment take over; he straightened his posture and his face returned to the serious and pretentious grimace which, as a butler, he kept on as a permanent mask. His pianist-like fingers moved to pull on the white perfect gloves he wore at all times and pulled them tight. He checked his sleeves, his tie, the line of the tuxedo's tail and, without knocking, walked inside his master's bedroom.

"Wake up, young master." he spoke in that same cold tone. It was like sadness and indifference colided inside him every time his voice was heard. He seemed caring, yet not soft. Serious, yet concerned. He pulled on the drapes and on his shirt collar up before turning to face the huge oak bed. His left wrist locked perfectly in his right fist behind him, pushing his chest forward and holding his chin up, he focused the Caribean-blue gaze upon the shape lying on the silked sheets. "The sun set hours ago, my lord. And your duties await you."

"Is that right...?" replied a young boy's voice from the darkness. His feet descended from the high bed and, as he leaned forward, the pale moon caressed the perfect face of an angelic 12 year old. Michelangelo himself could not have painted a more heavenly visage, yet the sharpness in his voice betrayed a maturity unnatural for someone his age. His accent, like Sebastian's and Angelique's, was british, yet somehow more obvious. He continued in that same tone, as his pinkish lips moved in a cheeky smile: "So, Sebastian, don't you think it's ironic that even in death, mortal business still dictates us what to do? Even more so, how is it that you, a servant, push such matters onto me every night?"

The butler didn't answer. Even though he seemed to be rather young himself, not more than 25, his whole act inspired much more experience. Like a statue he remained still - those perfect blue eyes were the only thing that coud be seen in the darkness, glowing fantastically while staring down his master. His raven-black hair, combed to the sides, reached down to the outter limits of his eyebrows, framing his face so ellegantly. Sebastian moved slowly his arm forward, extending his open palm at Ciel and replied with an invisible smile on: "My existence I dedicate to you, master Ciel. You know that without my verbal reassurance, I'm sure. As for my... let's say "rude interference" with your schedule, my lord, I can only say that it cannot be helped - as said, I exist to ensure your safety and well being, and my concerns in these matters push me to push you. If I may be so bold as to remind the young master that it was his own wish to reside in this manor, thus engage in the affairs that I must remind him of every night...?"

"Don't be a wise-ass, Sebastian." sharply responded the child. "Hold your snake tongue for when it be needed to seduce princesses or kings - it is, after all, the reason why you stand by my side in the first place." he added and rose his arms above in the air commanding: "Now help me dress."

"Of course" confirmed the slim buttler and kneeled on his right knee, in front of the bed, pulling the large cotton shirt off his master. With gentle gestures and a frozen half-smile he executed the dressing ritual perfectly. In no time, Ciel was wearing a grey thin 1900's suit, with short pants with suspensors, a white short-sleeve shirt and a grey silk bow on his neck. Sebastian picked up a brush from the nightstand with both hands, like a sacred object, and, with a docile half-gaze, awaited his master's confirmation.

"Go ahead, Sebastian" Ciel assured him, this time his tone mellowing out. It became calm and somehow grateful for having the butler look and care for him. Sure, it was his duty, but over decades he couldn't ignore the bond that appeared between them. There was no question about it - Sebastian would stand a million blade slashes and a million more bullets before letting Ciel get a paper cut. It was more than loyalty, more than fanaticism. Master Greythorne was a god. Though cruel sometimes, like any god, he rewarded his worshippers with a gentle touch from time to time. One such moment was now, as he let his delicate fingers grip onto the young butler's shoulder. He squeezed the soft cotton tuxedo as he stared Sebastian in the eyes. Though he continued brushing the young master's hair, Ciel knew Sebastian cherished the gesture. A very slight dimple appeard under his right cheek as his half-smile stretched a little...

"What of the runner?" whispered the young boy as Sebastian stood up and in that soldier-like position. "Any trace?"

"The news is somehow concerning, my lord. I fear your cousins exposed us all to a great danger. Investigation is probable - no certainty so far, but it might happen."

"Idiots." whispered between his teeth the young lord. "I should have never put up with their... extravagant and pompous habits. Those flamboyant hotheads still believe we're in Greythorne manor where they can do whatever they want, whenever they want, regardless of consequences. I swear, Sebastian, if they were not family, I'd have had them sunbathed a long time ago..."

"Young master is just speaking in anger. I'm sure..."

"Oh, shut it! You may master diplomacy but you will not try and fool me with your fake neutrality, are we clear, Sebastian?"

"Aye, my lord. A sincere opinion?"

"By all means..." replied the blonde child whose curls defied the strong brushing strokes and fell to the sides.

"I believe they are sadistic animals. Not worthy of the name nor company nor regard you so benevolently please to show towards them."

Ciel arched an eyebrow as Sebastian sharply answered and as he concluded, a hysterical laughter replaced the sudden silence. He held his chest with both hands then stood and, still laughing, looked up in his butler's eyes: "That is so true, Sebastian. So true! Still... tonight is not the night I ask you to dispose of them. Go now and fetch me a new bottle of honey from the Cormick estate. Is tea ready?"

"It should be, my lord. I believe Andrew is taking care of it as we speak. The dining room is already inspected and awaiting you." replied Sebastian with that promptitude of his.

"Good. Any guests?"

"Nothing scheduled, young master, but with the events as of late... Nothing is certain."

"I hate uncertainty, Sebastian."

"I know" replied the shadowy figure as he backed up towards the open windows. He bowed and as his master dismissed him with a flip of wrist, he jumped down into the darkness.

Even moons guarded once more the tranquility of the island. One from the sky and it's twin from the surface of the black ocean waters. The crystal blue shade of the Atlantic that was such a wonderful sight in the daylight was denied to his kind and this being one of Ciel's main regrets. However, as planned, he tried as much to enjoy this existence and succeeded to a certain degree. He had returned to one of his family's estates, a jewel of the Caribean during the rum and tobacco trade days, hoping to find a peace that escaped his grasp for so many centuries while living in crowded and demanding societies. If not for his cousins, an almost perfect life would wait for him here, but, as he watched Sebstian slip with phenomenal speed through the night over the hill, on the other side of the pass a terrible plague started decimating inhabitants. Winds of disaster would not bring just the disease... But other factors that could very well mean the end of the Greythorne line. The end of this proud vampire clan. Still and wise, Ciel took in the scent of white lillies and descended quietly, like a good little boy to the dining room for his evening tea.

This post has been edited by Alexander Angellove: 25 July 2009 - 05:53 PM

[Crimson-Stilletos]

“Just give me your brat, you fucking imbecile!”

Evangeline clenched her delicate fist, inadvertedly digging her talonesque nails into her flesh. She stared across the ramshackle living room. The stout woman stared back at her with fierce, stony eyes. She was shaking her head at the demon, holding her small child behind her back.

Stupidly, the mother let go of the child for one brief moment. She garnered a heavy ornament and flung it at Evangeline. It landed deftly in the latter’s bloody palm.

With a sure cackle, Eva whipped the blunt object back at the woman. It bashed in her forehead, emitting a terrible crack. The little girl shrieked as her mother’s gore splattered on her, and the body that bore her fell to the wooden floor. The voluptuous vampire seemed to float towards the ebony-skinned child and took her up in arms.

Cooing, she could hear the subtle crackle of a fire being lit. ‘Oh, the husband’s home.’ A quick thud soon accompanied it. And in came bulky Charles carrying the six-foot father, mirroring his wife. Each had gotten their boon; it was time to fly.

“You’ve always had brilliant timing, love. I hope you did stop him from setting this fire!” she chatted to her husband matter-of-factly.

“Of course, Evy. I want them to know that you were here. They’ll be giving their children away soon enough. And then we won’t have such tragic casualties.” He looked down at the slumped figure near Evangeline’s feet and continued with a smile, “I could’ve used her so well. This couple would have been a great specimen. In fact!”

He paused for a moment and dropped the unconscious man from his arms. He swiftly walked over to the corpse and flung it over his shoulder. Not minding the blood splattering about his expensively tailored clothes, he easily placed the husband on his other side.

“We’ll see if we can keep the fire in their relationship alive! Who says a little brain injury has to stand in the way of true love?” He laughed to himself and held out a hand to his wife. She adjusted the child to rest in one arm and placed the bloody palm into his. They left the home.

In another time and place, the pair would be considered beautiful. But instead they chose to kidnap, rape, and pillage the less fortunate. It was all for a thrill.

As they traipsed back to their separate home on the Greythorne estate, Evangeline looked up to her husband and smiled. “We really have kept the flame alive, haven’t we Charlie dear?”

Charles glanced back at his bride and her new pet and conceded, “Yeah we have Evy. To think, I just wanted to fuck my sister. Now look—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his statement. Evangeline tore her hand from his and slashed his face. Typical of her speed and fury, she left deep gash wounds in his handsome cheeks. The action caused him to drop his precious load and swear in pain.

“I was joking, you fucking cunt! Go feed on your child and sulk. It’s not going to fill your barren womb, witch!” he called out as he bent over with hands covering his face.

While he easily could overpower her, it wasn’t worth the fight yet. Besides, he knew the words would crush her more than his fists. This would cost him at least two nights of seduction. The island girls could be bought easy enough but he preferred the pure ones that fell in love with his looks.

Until he could get his hands on his ungrateful wife, Charles beat his anger out on his knocked out victim. Kneeling to the ground, he sank his fangs into the man’s exposed neck. First he drank the man dry and then he destroyed him. It was more fun to toy with them alive, but Charles was impatient. The man had no chance of waking up from the blows hitting his torso and head, even if he had the blood in him to do so. It wasn’t enough for the creature inflicting the pain. He took to literally ripping into the black man’s remains. Without the sharp nails of his wife, Charles merely used blunt force to shove his finger into the tough muscles. It was like play-dough in his hands as he tossed the flesh about him.

Finally, his bloody fingers were digging up dirt. The undead stood up and looked at his hard work. It was clear that this used to be human, but the body was in distinct chaos. Charles panted in his pleasure and rage. His eyes caught the woman’s corpse, causing a great groan to come from his throat. His hands removed the clothes from his body hastily. The moon glimmered down on him at that cliff-top and illuminated his strong features. Like a Hellenistic statue, he stood with great posture. Then, like a beast, he bore down into what used to be a woman.

The necrophilia seemed only too apt for the vampire at times of retrospect, but in the moment, he had no thoughts. His needs were all that mattered and as soon as they were satisfied, he tossed the scattered remains of his into the ocean. The hungry sharks no doubt favored the cove below with reason.

Evangeline could hear her husband enter their house and harshly storm to her back quarters. He bellowed from behind a barred door, but she ignored him. She was too focused on the babe in her possession. She stroked the girl’s head softly and projected calming images into her mind. Children were easy for Evangeline to dominate, and she manipulated every single one she took. They became her children and she their mother.

Something always went wrong, however. Some little quirk that Eva could not prevent that caused human fear to override her messages. Despite her twisted motherly tendencies, Evangeline still was not human. Thus as she forced her wee thing to suckle, it cried out. Vampiric blood was filling its mouth, not the tender milk she expected.

The vampire clutched the child back into her arms. She tried to get it to drink up her blood, but suddenly Charles burst through the door. No bars could keep him out when he was angry enough. He heavily punched Evangeline and snatched the child from her. Sinking his fangs into the baby’s neck, he tore the delicate veins apart.

Evangeline was not that hurt from Charles’s force, but merely dazed. However as soon as she saw her ‘daughter’s’ eyes turn dull, it was as if she was stabbed herself. Screaming, Evangeline flung herself about the room and collapsed to a huddle on the floor.

Charles tossed the girl’s limp body onto his wife and laughed. “You know better than to cross me Evy. If I cannot have my new toys then neither can you.” He looked at her, clawing at the dead body in agony, and shook his head. “Don’t carry on Evangeline! It will pass. Now come along to the basement. I have a present there for you.”

She couldn’t resist the smirk growing on her face as she anticipated what was waiting in Charles’s dungeon.

[Swan]

It was the gentle breeze and the soft echo of birds in the distance that helped rock Amy to sleep in the porch swing; the quiet purr of Patch nestled in her lap also gave her that sense of comfort that nothing could touch her where she sat. Her dreams were filled with images from her past, those from her childhood and those she had captured with the snap of her lens. None were disturbing and while walking through the fog, Amy felt a sense of accomplishment and that her life had meaning and a purpose. She loved what she did and it shown brightly in each picture she took.

As the witching hour neared, Amy was startled from her slumber by the sound of a metal garbage can crashing to the ground. Her body was cold and rigid with fear and it took a moment for her to gather her surroundings and realize that she was still sitting in the swing. She looked down to her lap to find Patch’s fur standing on end and Amy burst out into laughter; he looked like a giant black and white puff ball. *soft laughing* “Oh come on Patch, it wasn’t that bad. It’s probably just a raccoon rummaging through Mr. Bell’s garbage.”

The tuxedo marked cat turned his yellow-green eyes up to his master and stared at her as if to say that it ~was~ that bad and she was a silly human for not admitting that it had scared her just as bad as him. This only made Amy laugh harder and Patch jumped from her lap and walked over to the screen door, pawing at it twice before returning his gaze to Amy. “Yes Patch, it’s time to go to bed.”

Amy yawned and as she stood, she stretched her arms high above her head; her muscles screamed as she pulled them to their length. She sighed and moaned heavily, “Why did you let me fall asleep out here you silly cat?” she asked. Patch just meowed and Amy smiled sleepily down at him.

After pouring herself a glass of water and locking the doors to her beloved home, Amy ventured upstairs to her bedroom. When she flicked the light switch on a warm golden glow illuminated the room. It was very soothing and homey. The light was coming from two identical bedside lamps perched on nightstands placed on each side of Amy’s queen-sized bed. They were her grandmother’s and one of Amy’s most prized possessions. In the clouded glass shades were ornately shaped humming birds; their emerald bodies shimmering from the light contained behind them. The bodies of the lamps were shaped like small tree trunks; the attention to detail was simply amazing. Amy would spend hours just staring at one or the other, each time finding something new that she had not noticed before like the small beetle nestled in the eye of where a branch had been sawed off. But tonight would not be one of those nights that she would gaze at their beauty.

Amy watched as Patch jumped into the center of the bed and began to make himself comfortable. “Oh wait a minute mister. You’re not allowed to fall asleep until I get into bed, you hear me?” The only reply she received was a flick of his tail and Amy shook her head and walked over to the antique dresser. This too was her grandmother’s. Come to think about it, outside of the refinished desk that sat quietly in a corner of the room with her computer and camera equipment on it, everything in her bedroom belonged to her grandmother.

As she pulled the nightgown from the top drawer and then gently pushed it closed, Amy brushed her fingertips along the hand-crafted edge of the wooden piece and smiled. She loved her grandmother very much and not a day didn’t pass that she did not think of her. She was 8 years old when Amy came to live with her grandmother. Her parents had been in a horrific car accident and when the authorities brought a sobbing child to her door, Emily Strathmore was not about to turn the babe away. The bond that grew between the two was one that you read about in novels and countless times when her friends would stay over, they would tell Amy how lucky she was to have a grandmother like Emily and how they wished that she was their grandmother. This only caused her love for her grand mother to grow more.

Amy had a difficult time when Emily passed away and her boss was more than understanding when she decided to take a break from her work. For 6 months Amy locked herself away from her family and friends, practically from the world and grieved. The last 2 months of her time off she moved from her lavish loft apartment and into the home she grew up in as her grandmother had left everything to her, the house, the car, the enormous bank account… Her aunt and uncle were very upset that Emily had left everything to Amy but Amy did not let it bother her as neither one of them really had anything to do with her grandmother outside of coming around when they needed money or a favor.

Amy remembered the letter her grandmother left her and was given the day Emily’s will was read and Amy became the sole owner of everything that once belonged to her.

My dear sweet Amy,

I remember the day that you came into my life, that small little angel wrapped in a blanket, enormous tears streaming down your face. If I close my eyes I can almost imagine that is how you look right now. I know that my leaving you is going to hurt and that is why I am writing you this letter. I want you to know that you coming into my life was the best thing that ever happened to me. You have brought my life such joy and such happiness that I often felt guilty for being so lucky to have you in it. There are so many things that I see in you that I wish I had been more like you at your age. You are wise beyond your years and are so talented. You have grown into a very kind, loving and compassionate young woman… don’t lose sight of that. Your love is what makes you special Amy; don’t let my passing cause that love to fade. Even though I may no longer be there, I will always be with you where ever your heart pushes you to go. Don’t give up now. I need for you to be that strong, determined woman that I know you are and concur the world; it is yours for the taking. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you aren’t good enough because they are only jealous because you are better than them. Fight with all your heart and never give up… never give up Amy.

I love you sweetheart!
Nana

It was the sound of the ancient grandfather clock in the front room that brought Amy back to reality when it began to chime the arrival of midnight. She sighed and quickly undressed, pulling the soft cotton gown over her head and then walked over to her bed. Patch was already sound asleep and she huffed a silent laugh then pulled the down comforter back. The cool sheets felt good against her warm skin and sleep began to pull at her quickly, making it quite the effort to reach over and turn the lamps off. As soon as the room fell in darkness, Amy was already well on her way to dreamland. Little did she know that things were already set in motion in a distant country that would change her life, forever.