Untitled as of yet... (standard:Creative non-fiction, 2930 words)
Author: Clare Borror	Added: Nov 08 2004	Views/Reads: 3296/2196	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is the first part of a two or three part series. The first two remain unfinished, obviously, so please bear with me as I continue to update! :)

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


I had immediately seen the look of madness in his forget-me-not blue
eyes, in the wild way his thick black hair was compulsively pushed back 
by the man's pale hands. He turned when I had entered, a crooked grin 
distorting his split-second handsome face, and he muttered something 
about a “threat to all of his kind”. 

He had then reached behind him and drew out a long, antique looking
sword, whipping it around madly, and hacking at my family. Their blood 
marred the walls, staining my image of a normal family. When he made to 
come at me, I turned and ran, slipping on the various arms, legs, 
fingers, and ears he had been throwing like sand, as if he were a child 
in a sand box.... 

I closed my eyes, attempting to clear my mind of all but one thought:
Tonight, I will avenge my parents and sisters, or die trying. 

The twelfth step met my bare foot and I stepped up once more, hoping for
the thirteenth step, instead meeting nothing. My heartbeat quickened, 
the adrenaline coursing through me unchecked as my body stumbled and 
tipped backward into the darkness. My arms spun like twin windmills and 
both of my feet left the stairs. 

It seemed like an eternity that I hung suspended in midair, my breathing
stopped; and quite suddenly, a pair of hands had seized my arms and 
ripped me back to the top of the stairway. I was slammed into a wall 
that seemed to be made of warm marble and draped in velvet. 

The wall stepped back, letting go of its hold on me, and I looked up
into the face of my savior and foe: Draven Francois himself, 
illuminated softly by a dozen candles from the adjacent living-room. 
His hair had become less wild over the years, now obediently hanging 
down to the middle of his back, black still, but not flying around 
madly as it had been that fateful evening four years ago. Even his 
bright blue eyes had become more serene, peering out from his smooth 
white face in polite confusion. 

These observations, however, could not tame my pounding heart and the
drive of adrenaline still running its course through my veins. Hatred 
overwhelmed me, threatened to take control, and I instinctively reached 
for the eighteen-inch blade concealed in a back-sheath sewn into my 
heavy brocade coat. 

My hand had barely wrapped around the swirled platinum hilt before I was
tossed sideways into the next room, where I landed on the thin carpet 
of the hard-wood floor. I gasped for breath, rolling over onto my 
stomach and reached again for the blade, my fingers slipping on it as 
nervousness and urgency wrestled with my grip on it. 

Immediately, Draven's hands grappled with mine; his entire weight now
seemed to flatten me out as his knee, driving into the small of my 
back, pinned me to the floor. The blade of my sword must have cut 
through the fabric, and I cried out as the tip was pushed into my skin 
by the pressure of his knee. 

Just as quickly as he had landed on me, Draven had me up on my knees,
tearing my coat off of me. I heard it drop to the floor, a soft thud 
from the weight of the blade; and then the back of my thin muslin 
chemise was lifted, his other hand pulling the waist of my matching 
skirt down about an inch. I could feel the warmth of my own blood 
dripping slowly from the scratch. 

I was disheveled and confused...Was he actually checking the seriousness
of my wound...? Abruptly, I jumped away, my shirt ripping easily at the 
V-neck hem. 

“Always playing the concerned healer, aren't you,” I growled furiously,
one hand clutching at the ripped seam. “I'm not stupid enough to fall 
for that more than once!” 

Two heads taller than I am, he leered down at me, his eyes boring into
mine as if seeing me for the first time. “You, Cadence Windsor, have 
always been an ingrate; you have never appreciated what I've done for 
you! And your parents...” He advanced on me, forcing me to step 
backwards until I was against the wall. “Your parents did all they 
could for you, protected you and shielding you from destiny. What,” he 
whispered as I my face paled in anger, “they never told you? Of course 
not—you were too young then, weren't you? You're not so young now, 
though, are you?” 

My mind reeled with panic and confusion as his eyes swept perversely
over the bare skin he had accidentally exposed, his eyes snapping back 
to mine with a glimmer of triumph. What did destiny have to do with me? 
Why did this man, if indeed he was a man, kill my family and how had he 
not been put in prison? 

“Oh yes,” he continued, a pale blush touching the smooth cheeks. “I have
watched this family for centuries, from generation to generation, 
always hidden in the shadows so as not to reveal myself or my kind. But 
at this critical moment, I am sure you are quite ready for the 
details.” He smoothed back his jet-black hair, a trace of a smile on 
his pale lips. 

“Do you know what I am?” 

“What do I care,” I hissed. “I'm only here to do what I should've done
the first time I saw you.” 

“And that is...?” 

It was the moment I needed. I dove past him, rolling over in mid-tumble,
my hand darting down to snatch up my weapon. Before he could blink, the 
blade was held steady an inch away from his chest, over the spot I 
assumed was hiding a heart. His eyes widened, his hands lifted up in 
surrender. I smiled in satisfaction and lunged forward, only to stab 
thin air. 

I spun around and found myself face to chest with Draven once more. His
fingers closed tightly around my wrists, numbing my hands until my 
weapon dropped rudely to the floor again. An inch from my own face was 
the fiend who had so unceremoniously crushed all that I had ever held 
dear to me. 

“I'll be damned before I let you get away with what you've done to me!” 

My voice was shrill and piercing, and an odd sort of silence followed my
outburst. I could hear my heart thumping madly somewhere in the 
vicinity of my throat as if it were ready to explode with hatred for 
this brute. 

“You are a beast,” I whispered, my eyes shut tight against the
candlelight, my head throbbing painfully. My wrists were sore and I 
struggled half-heartedly in an exhausted attempt to release myself. 

“How close to the truth you've come,” Draven said softly. He loosened
his grip on my wrists and turned away from me. My eyes darted to the 
glint of the platinum swirled hilt of my sword. “Don't even think of 
it,” he barked, turning to face me again. His eyes were like frozen ice 
as he pointed to a burgundy and silver embroidered davenport against 
the Eastern wall. 

“Sit.” 

I was too emotionally worn out to argue anymore, so I stumbled towards
it and sat down, sinking into the overstuffed cushions. It almost felt 
as if I could seep right into them and evaporate into nothingness. My 
eyelids threatened to droop and I jerked, sitting upright. 

“Why don't you just do it? Kill me and be done. I have had enough
nightmares, enough lost sleep when I'm up pacing and considering just 
doing it myself.” I sighed, hoping that he would find a quick way to 
dispose of me. I was tired of it all. I thought of Sophia again, hoping 
that, somehow, she would know what was coming and take herself to a 
human services office in the light of the morning, which I realized 
suddenly, was only an hour or two away. 

“She is on her way here now,” Draven mumbled and I was suddenly quite
awake again. “I do not intend to kill you, nor do I propose to kill 
Sophia.” 

He had sunk into a crouch in the shadows of the space between the couch
and the corner. “In fact,” he continued, “I mean to keep you both with 
me forever.” 

I sat up straight, shocked at this bit of information and turned
suddenly as Sophia walked slowly into the room. She sat down beside me, 
clasping my hand with her own and calmly looked down at my enemy. 

“Forever, Sir?” Her wispy voice addressed Draven formally and I
realized, with great horror, that in the year I had had her in my care, 
she hadn't seemed to change. Could I have cared for and loved a 
creature of the same ilk as the beast that had destroyed my family? 

“Oh Cadence,” she said calmly, “Don't be alarmed. I've know Draven for
centuries. I do love you,” she added hastily at the horrified look on 
my face. “I had lost his thread until I heard about what happened 
between your family and him, and I pitied you. You were not his first 
victim.” 

Sophia said this with a hint of steeliness in her voice, her eyes
resting on Draven's shadow shrouded form. 

She stood up swiftly, a great yawn escaping her, and she bent down to
lift Draven to his feet by the crook of his arm. 

“Time to sleep, I think.” She barely muffled another yawn, and, walking
with her arm hooked through Draven's, paused in front of me. 

“You, too, sleepy head.” She bent down, quickly kissed my cheek and led
Draven out of the room. 

My head reeling, I sat for a few minutes in shock. I sank backwards into
the soft careless cushions and, almost immediately, the sweet and 
merciful blackness of sleep swept over. 

********* 

In my dreams, there is always a waterfall that cascades into a tiny pool
that trickles down a few yards away into a stream. Bubbling and 
gurgling, it seems to mock my mood. I am always so anxious, running as 
the trees blur and smudge by me, running until there is finally nothing 
left but a deep kind of darkness. 

Staring into the bleak nothingness, I am almost strangled by loneliness.
Keep running and there will be light. So I run, moving through the 
space effortlessly, drawn by the sudden pin-prick of white light ahead. 
I hear the heavy breathing of some unknown being behind, always at my 
heels, always watching....In the search for safety I stumble into 
another world full of color; a man and a woman fighting, taking back 
their once unadulterated proclamations of love. I keep running, too 
afraid to look behind, skip a step, no breathing, drop into another 
realm of homes burning, children dying, crops wilting under a copper 
sun, a thousand corpses strung up with rope, a hundred more with wrists 
draining their blood; I am in the real world and its subconscious. 

The tiny white light is getting closer, emanating a cool zephyr, drawing
me on urgently. It widens like a giant's jaws. With one foot inside the 
white hole in life, I turn to look around, turn to try to see the beast 
behind me— the blackness is back, the endless running resumes and the 
breathing is closer. I keep going, knowing that there is truth to be 
found in this emptiness. Keep going, keep running, don't look, just 
close your eyes and you're there. The white hole is back and, too soon, 
I look back again, only to be abruptly dropped back to the waterfall 
and the stream..... 

******** 

The soft butter glow of morning crept up under my eyelids, and I sat up
stiffly. For all of its cushioning, the sofa had made me sore. I rubbed 
my eyes, swept my long hair back, and surveyed my surroundings. 

It was almost surreal to see my old living room drenched with the same
mid-morning sunlight I had seen for almost sixteen years in this house. 
The television was gone, replaced by a simple black sphere that 
glittered blankly; my sisters' books of sign language were gone from 
the antique case, which was missing as well, a bare patch of worn out 
carpet the only clue left of its once being there at all. 

Silence permeated the entire house, a thick mist of absolute stillness.
Of course, Draven would be sleeping, something that I knew little about 
and often felt drained of even after waking, just as I did this day. If 
Sophia was a...If she was something like Draven, would she be sleeping 
also? Why didn't I hear them snoring? 

“Damn,” I muttered groggily, pushing myself out of the cushions. I was
starving and I was thinking about Sophia and Draven, sleeping 
somewhere....Shaking my head, I cleared my large grey eyes with my 
knuckles, yawning and stretching. How absurd to feel so at home...But I 
was home...Just not in the circumstances I had anticipated. 


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