Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Angels and Demons ❯ Dramuela and Dante, The Immortals ( Chapter 3 )

A/N: Once more, just a reminder, please review. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. ^-^

 

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Amber was visited frequently for several weeks. After everyone had been informed of her father's death, they had buried him next to her mother. Now, when other lords and ladies called on her, they referred to her as the Lady of Inverleigh. At first, she hated the title, as it reminded her of her father's passing, but eventually she became numb to the pain. She no longer cried when she spoke of her father to others, refusing to show her pain. But, at night, when she lay alone in the dark, she wept until she thought she had cried her soul out.

 

Once she had cried herself to sleep, she was plagued by the apparition that her father's presence no longer dispelled from her dreams. He was always there, waiting for her, almost mocking her pain. She came to hate the apparition and everything he stood for in her mind. He knew not himself, nor her, and she felt the same way sometimes. She wondered when she had lost herself, and she wished she knew how to find it again.

 

One night, as she lay in her bed, her thoughts turned to her father. She realized that she had not been to visit him since the day they buried him. Every time she thought of him, a tear graced her cheek. She wondered sometimes if the pain would ever go away.

 

She rose slowly from her bed, glancing out the window. She realized it was well past midnight, but she left her room any way. She made her way through the deserted mansion. As she looked around, she realized, under normal circumstances, the shadows might have scared her. But they held no fear for her broken heart now as she made her way out of the mansion and to the stables. She pulled her robe tighter at the feel of the cold wind against her skin, but otherwise ignored the chilly night air.

 

She was grateful that the barn door slid open silently, thanks to the repairs Aaryn did daily. But, none the less, the faint moonlight disturbed the sleeping horses. Their disgruntled whinnies met her ears as she soundlessly made her way to Aato's stall. She figured that if any one were to see her, they would mistake her for a ghost. She let her mind play with that thought as she slipped into Aato's stall, bridle in hand. She realized, as she slipped the bit into his mouth, that she had become a ghost as of late. She no longer smiled, or showed any other emotion as a matter of fact, except for sorrow.

 

She shook the thoughts away as she led Aato from the barn and into the night air. She glanced at the full moon, enjoying the light from the stars. She had come to enjoy the solitude of the night. It seemed to ease her pain some, being alone.

 

Aato gave a disgruntled snort at her silence.

 

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, stroking his nose. “You must think I've lost my mind.” I might have. She petted him on the shoulder, then swung onto his bare back. “I'll be sure to let you have a good long rest after this,” she assured him as she turned him down the road. She let him gallop away toward the cemetery.

 

To say that Amber was lacking a little common sense couldn't be farther from the truth. Why her judgment was suddenly clouded, no one could say for sure, but she knew it was unwise to be out in the middle of the night. She wasn't stupid, and she knew her chances of getting hurt of robbed or killed on the road were good, yet something compelled her aching mind to go any way.

 

She knew the cemetery was unsafe, and that danger could be lurking around every tomb stone, but the moon lit her path perfectly, and she could see things bright as day. She knew her senses were becoming honed to the darkness, and, strangely, it didn't bother her. She knew if she were to admit to her late night wanderings, most people would accuse her of being possessed, but she had no wish to be around others. The dark was comforting. It hid her from sight, not allowing others to see her broken, wounded spirit.

 

She walked slowly, yet steadily to where her parents lay, Aato following calmly behind her. She felt as if they beckoning to her, calling her toward them. She felt a smile slip across her lips. Their call was irresistible. As she neared the tomb stones, though, an eerie chill settled about her. She knew her parents were no longer calling her. Something else was here, and she felt its presence in the chill.

 

Suddenly Aato stepped forward, nibbling at the grass that now grew over the ground. His relaxed movement broke the spell that had captivated Amber, and she looked at the head stones. She stepped forward, gently touching the places where words were engraved into the marble.

 

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, tracing the names. “I should have come sooner.” She felt the familiar ache sweep her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She thought back to the night that her father died, feeling tears wanting to be acknowledged. She thought back to what she had said to him. I'm not ready. Why did you let go? Why did you leave? Why did you want to leave?

 

Then another thought crossed her mind. Perhaps it wasn't that he wanted to let go, maybe he had no choice. He knew it was his time. Maybe I'm the one who needs to let go.

 

She felt a single tear slip. “I miss you,” she whispered. She looked at the grass. “I wish that I could let you go as easily as you accepted the fact that you were leaving.” She smiled softly as she spoke to her father. “But, you know me. I hate change.” She looked up. “Help me. Give me the strength to move on. I love you, Daddy.” She brushed away the tear, feeling the wind blow softly. It tossed her auburn hair gently, and she knew her father was there, surrounding her. He would always be watching over her. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead on the stone. “Send me a guardian angel.”

 

“Oh, how touching,” a sharp voice said suddenly.

 

Amber felt her leap in fear, and she grasped her chest as she spun around. She noticed Aato spook, as he had not noticed another presence either, which surprised her. Suddenly the chill from earlier descended on her. She gazed around, searching for the source of the voice.

 

“W—Who's there?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

 

Suddenly a tall woman materialized from the shadows. She was clothed in black leather, a black cloak falling over her shoulders, covering her. The silver buckle glinted in the moonlight just beneath her chin. Her skin was deathly pale, a smooth, creamy white, and her hair was a silver-grey. Her eyes were black, and shone with malice and hunger. The only thing that stood out amongst her pale features were her lips. They were a deep crimson, the color of blood.

 

Amber felt her body quivering and her heart racing. Her breathing became short and shuddering.

 

The woman grinned at her obvious fear, flashing silver fangs. She laughed softly, which earned a grimace from Amber. It was truly a harsh sound. When she spoke, her voice was cold, lacking any emotion. “Are you frightened child?” she asked.

 

Amber scrambled backwards until her back hit cold stone.

 

The woman walked toward her, her eyes flashing. Her cold fingers wrapped around Amber's neck, lifting her easily from the ground. Amber tried not to gag as her hand pressed against her windpipe. She grasped the woman's wrist, realizing that the woman was not human. Amber wanted to scream, but couldn't force any air through her lungs.

 

She lifted me as if I weighed nothing, she thought desperately to herself. Is she some sort of demon? She tried struggling in the woman's grasp, but it only caused her to laugh that terrible laugh again.

 

“Ignorant little girl,” she hissed, “Don't you know it's not safe to be out after dark.” She glanced at the graves Amber was visiting. “And, poor you, no one will even notice once you're dead.”

 

Amber's eyes widened in shock and terror.

 

“That's right,” the woman purred. “We both know that this will put you out of your misery. I can feel your thoughts and your pain. You feel terribly alone.” Her voice had become mocking and taunting.

 

Amber felt her anger flare. How dare this creature? Just because she felt that way didn't mean that she wanted to die. And who was this woman to take that decision away from her?

 

“Let me go!” she gasped, suddenly finding her voice. “You monster.”

 

The woman sneered. “Brave, aren't we?” she hissed. “You dare insult me?” Her hand tightened around Amber's neck.

 

Amber tried not show her discomfort.

 

“I can feel your pulse beneath my fingers,” the woman growled, the hungry look coming to her eyes again. “It would take naught but one bite…”

 

She leaned toward Amber.

 

Amber's eyes became impossibly big as she registered what the woman had said. “What are you?” she whispered before she could stop herself. She cringed as she felt her breath on her neck.

 

“A vampire.”

 

Amber struggled against her, a sudden primitive instinct telling her to fight back. “NO!” she yelled. She could almost feel the woman's fangs penetrating her skin.

 

“Dramuela! What are you doing?” a male voice demanded from behind Amber. It too was cold and heartless, but it caused the vampiress to pause.

 

She hissed suddenly, drawing away from Amber. “Dante,” she spat. “You're interrupting.”

 

Dante's calm voice floated softly on the wind. “You can't eat her.”

 

Dramuela growled at him threateningly. “Why not?” she demanded.

 

Amber closed her eyes. She felt relief, knowing that she was safe for now.

 

“You know we can't risk being found,” Dante said, his voice calm and steady, just as before. “Did you even look at those two graves? She's the daughter of a lord and lady. People will notice her absence.”

 

Amber considered his words. He had a point. Many people would come looking for her, especially the Baron. He had recently taken a liking to coming over unannounced to check on her. As much as his visits irked her, she had to admit that it was nice to know that someone cared enough to check on her.

 

She felt Dramuela's grip loosen. She wished she could see Dante's face. He seemed like a thoughtful and charismatic person, especially if he could stop Dramuela in her lust for blood.

 

Dramuela suddenly released Amber, letting her fall several feet to the ground. Amber landed with a soft thud, listening to Dramuela grumble under her breath. “You owe me, Dante,” she hissed, before slithering away into the darkness.

 

Amber sighed deeply, composing herself. She touched her neck, still able to feel Dramuela's cold fingers. She shuddered.

 

Dante's soft chuckle suddenly floated to her ears. It was not unlike Dramuela's, but it held more warmth, and was strangely comforting.

 

Amber heard his soft footsteps, and she turned to look at her savior. She felt her breath catch.

 

He was tall, like Dramuela, and he was pale as well. His lips were also a deep, blood red. The wind tossed his hair, which Amber realized was a silver waterfall as it cascaded around his shoulders, falling nearly to his waist. His silver bangs shadowed his eyes against the moonlight, but Amber could see that they were clearly a brilliant green. He was also clothed in black leather, with a long black cape draped about his shoulders. He seemed distant, but friendlier than Dramuela.

 

Amber could not suppress a gasp. He was beautiful. She turned her face away, hiding a blush at her thoughts. She did, however, manage to catch the little smirk that crossed his face at her reaction. She stared at the ground for a moment, trying to find her voice.

 

“Thank you,” she choked in a whisper. She glanced back at him.

 

He extended his hand to her. “Allow me to help you up, Milady,” he said quietly.

 

Amber suddenly felt very self-conscious. She allowed him to help her up, and she pulled her silk robe around her body tighter. She glanced at him again, realizing he hadn't seemed to notice her shyness. He again held out his hand to her. She gazed at him, her hazel eyes confused.

 

“Milady?” he asked, his voice soft and calm.

 

She hesitantly placed her hand in his. She shivered. His touch was warm, unlike Dramuela's.

 

“I am Dante,” he said, bowing and pressing his lips gently to her hand. His green eyes watched her as he pulled away.

 

“A—Amber,” she breathed, speechless. She was completely taken by the magnificent creature before her. She felt her heart pounding against her rib-cage. She realized how flustered she was at his actions.

 

“Please forgive Dramuela, Lady Amber,” he said, his tone every bit of a noble's. His dazzling eyes never left hers. “She gets carried away sometimes.”

 

Amber nodded dumbly. She could feel his thumb subconsciously stroking the back of her hand. The sensation was hypnotic as she stared into his eyes. She was frozen, unable to look away.

 

“Shall I escort you back to your horse?” he asked. He offered her his arm.

 

She took it automatically, unaware of her own actions. His eyes were just so….

 

He suddenly looked away, and she blinked out of her stupor. She realized he was leading her to the cemetery entrance, where Aato had fled to when Dramuela arrived. She looked back at him for a moment, considering his eyes again. They were so…familiar. She closed her eyes momentarily, and the apparition from her dreams flashed before her eyes. She gasped suddenly, her eyes flying open.

 

“The dream,” she whispered, looking at Dante. “You're the one from my dream.” She pulled away from him, frightened. She knew he had seemed familiar at the onset, she just hadn't been able to place him. But now it was painfully clear to her.

 

His eyes shifted to her. Confusion was plain in his green orbs. “Milady?” he asked, as if he hadn't heard what she had said. He felt slightly unnerved as well, as his dreams had been quite torturous as well, and he hadn't missed a single word she had said.

 

“Who—What are you?” she stuttered, her voice shaking. How had he been able to get into her dreams? Was he even aware that he was? She backed away from him.

 

His brow creased in confusion. “I'm afraid I don't know what you mean,” he said quietly, trying to hide the hint of anger. He thought she would have fallen under his spell and left, but she was fighting him. She was a dangerous being, able to fight his mind-control, but, then again, so was he.

 

He managed to keep his voice level, but his eyes flashed dangerously. He needed to handle this situation before she realized that he was also a vampire. The humans couldn't know that he existed, or they would come for him. That was the one thing he feared the most. His secret being discovered. He could have easily taken her life right then and there, but he didn't feel like that was necessary yet.

 

“Tell me the truth,” she said quietly. She could feel her fear pushing her mind into the dark, unable to comprehend what was happening. She felt weak suddenly, and her knees buckled. A strange pressure was pressing against her conscience, and she was slowly succumbing to it. She barely registered falling into the grass and closing her eyes. Her voice was a barely audible whisper, even for Dante's superb hearing. “Gavin.”