Twilight Fan Fiction ❯ Two Sides of The Coin ❯ Rhapsody of The Races of Old ( Chapter 9 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Moonlight Angel 
Non Anime: Twilight Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 12.28.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.0K | Visits: 161 | Status: Completed
Non Anime: Twilight Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 12.28.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.0K | Visits: 161 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I do own or create any of the characters, expect for Cassie and Brooke and their father. The rest is done and created by Stephenie Meyer, the author of the Twilight series. She owns them, not I. I am only burrowing them for my own twisted tales.
Summary: Cassandra and Brooke Sparrow are two sisters with psychic abilities, forced out of their warm California home to live in the dreary town of Fork, Washington, so their father can look for inspiration in the serene mountainside scenery. There they discover appearances can be deceiving when it comes to this boring rainy town. Especially when their closest neighbors just happen to be vampires and they actually go to their school, not to mention the nearby reservation is occupied with werewolves. Their lives are about to spiral into weirdsville and the sisters are going to love every minute of it.
A/N; Heyo, Everyone. Just giving you a heads up. Chapter Nine is written in a different format than the rest of the fan fiction. It’s not told in first person and doesn’t have Cassie or Brooke in it, nor the Cullens as well.
Brooke: WHAT THE HELL?! How come we’re not in it? Cassie and I are the stars of this retarded fan fiction after all.
Edward: Maybe the author simply got sick of your incessant chatter. You do have a tendency of getting on everyone’s nerves.
Brooke: CAN IT, PUSSY BOY!!
Edward: W-WHAT?! Excuse me, but I am not the irrational acting absurd adolescent here!
Moonlight Angel: Will you two hot headed morons can it, or else do I have to do it for you? *pulls out an extremely dangerous looking wooden mallet* I think the readers are ready to move on with the show right about now.
Edward & Brooke: *squeaks in fear of having their brains being bashed in* Yes ma`am!
Moonlight Angel: *smirks satisfied* Good. And now without further delay, here’s Chapter Nine!! ENJOY!!!
Chapter Nine
Rhapsody of The Races of Old
(Third Person Point of View)
Seattle, Washington: 9:30 p.m.
Evening seeped in through the narrow openings of towering glass and steel skyscrapers, the glints of the bright orange ball sinking below the backdrop of the city. Neon lights flashed in the conversing bustling sky as a airplane passed overheard, the roar of it’s jets filling the air, while mortals walked the crowded cement streets below, making their way to and from work, some hoping to chug a few alcoholic drinks after a long hard, stressful day at the office. Voices close and far away echoed softly, barely reaching the tops of the stationary steel giants, standing as guardians of the urban metropolis. No stars could be seen in the dark pallid indigo-orange skies above. The night was only beginning after all and soon the monsters would be soon coming out along with the night owls of the mortal world. No mortal, whatever ethnic group they were born to, realized that creatures of old walked among them, just out of sight, hidden in the shadows of bars, narrow alley ways, and the ever sprawling crowds. Shadows of all shapes and sizes, moved and danced out of reach. The mortals, who they played their dangerous game among, were utterly oblivious to their maneuvers through the crowds, and into the darkness of corridors, to tease and taunt wearied white and blue-collar workers with haunting words whispered in their deaf ears, causing the blind humans to shudder violently involuntary, while the alcohol slowed down their nervous system.
The night was still young. Caleb Cruxnic leaned back in the soft chemical smelling leather booth, absently swirling the ember liquid in the fragile frosted crystal wine glass. It’s metallic surface shimmering in the red glow that pulsed in the fluorescent lights that adorn the low hanging ceiling of a mortal bar called, Mercy’s Wings. His eerie porcelain skin shone in the dim lighting. His curly midnight raven tresses resting at the nape of his neck, tied back in a loose ponytail. An wide rim brown leather hat pulled low to hide his reflective ocher eyes. His slender well sculpted face blank as he watched the liquor tittered back and forth in the glass. The laughter and chatting of unaware of mortals around him and the sweet succulent aroma of mortal blood wafted to him, causing an hollow yearning in his stomach, but he ignored it. He hadn’t hunted for a month now. Not that it bothered him. Centuries of existence taught one to be patient and endure hardships. No time for such trivial things, not now at least.
He lifted his hat to make a quick survey of the mortal pub surrounding him. A group of mortal men lingered around the bar, sitting in the swiveling steel stairs, or standing by the glistening glasslike granite counter, watching a mundane game of football. A quick burst of cheers or hisses escaped them from time to time when one of their favored teams scored a point, or one of the players fumbled the ball. The human bar tenders was handing out drinks, and mixing and stirring contents for the next round of beers. The stench of tobacco hung in the thick musty air. An couple in the booth next to him were huddled together sharing drinks and exchanging casual words, their thoughts flying off into the far reaches of their sexual desires where their psychical bodies were soon to follow. An group of young mortal females walked past his table, stealing glances at the mysterious handsome man sitting by himself, clad in a fine white linen baggy shirt underneath an brown satin frock, wearing a pair of black formal pants and gleaming onyx leather boots. His unruly curly hair falling slightly into his beautifully sculpted facial features. His wide rim hat pulled low over his brow.
The mixture of expensive perfume and blood wafted Caleb’s way as the group of woman passed. Their delightful giggle music to his immortal ears. He always fancied the mortal women, so fragile and delicate like a freshly plucked flower that was soon to wither from old age. He lifted his hat slightly and gesture to them, winking playfully, causing the young ladies to giggle in response to his seemingly open flirting before the group made their way to the back far out of view.
Caleb returned to observe the early evening scene in the bar, his eyes ever searching for a familiar face. Where was that confounded fey?
Yule is late, Caleb thought, frowning intensely. He loathed being made to wait. He had other obligations to full fill rather than waiting in a public mortal bar for an pesky fey, who no knew sense of time what so ever. If he’d known that it would take this long for Yule to show, he would have decline the offer in the first place.
“Did I make you wait long?” an hushed whimsical voice inquire from the shadows behind him. The cloaked fey slinked into view, wearing his mortal guise. His naturally odd tinted skin a soft chalky cream against the red lighting. His eyes an deep piercing opal, set against an angular hawk like face. Long dark brown locks of hair fell past his slender shoulders, dressed in a billowing black trench coat and shaggy wool pants folded into thick boots. He looked equisetic in human form, even though, Caleb knew underneath the vale there was crafty predatory faerie.
“You’re late,” Caleb hissed through his teeth, a thick Russian accent slurring his speech slightly. For a moment a pair of dangerously gleaming fangs came into view before disappearing behind smooth furious pale lips. He watched the fey fluidly slide into the booth, sitting across from him. Time to get straight to the point. “This better be good, Yule. I have a club that needs to be opening before my costumers start a riot in the streets. Now tell me….” He paused carefully analyzing the fey’s devious smile. “What in Keaira’s name is so damn important that you had to drag me from my crypt before the sun was fully down?”
Yule’s smile widen, flashing his jagged pearly white teeth. An malice gleam shimmering in the fiery depths of his black eyes. “My. My. You’re as volatile as ever, Cruxnic,” he chuckled, his wispy voice drifted over the conversing atmosphere like a cooling winter breeze. “And here I thought I would have the privilege of seeing you in a better mood for once.”
A deep rumbling snarl came from deep within Caleb’s chest, stressing his displeasure. His ocher eyes becoming brighter with irritation. When he spoke his low accented tone chilled it’s very hearer to the bone. “Do not test me, faerie. I am a very busy vampire. I won’t hesitate to rip that repulsive head of yours clean off your delicate shoulders. Now get to the point!”
Awe yes, how could Yule forget the lethal promise that laid beyond the death threat. Caleb’s temper was a wicked one. The full blooded vampire felt no remorse in executing anything he deemed a nuisance. The fey had been close companions with the Pure Blood since the late nineteenth century. How could he not shiver at the very personified form of death, itself: the vampire. Unlike today’s modern Turn Bloods, who lived shamefully on the very edges of human society, scurrying around like filthy rodents, living day to day, always roaming, having no true home of their own, an old world Pure Blood was something to truly fear. The purest form of a vampire, an true monster of the night. Holding no shame in what they were. No wailing weakling, savaging creature, who had no true identity of itself. Pull of pride and honor, the Pure Bloods walked among mankind like silent, deadly relics of a time when humans had reason to fear the night.
Yule shook off the terror clenching his dark heart and leaned closer, blocking any chance for a passing mortal to interrupt their intense little conversation. His eyes shifted from a flat black to swirling fiery opal, briefly revealing his true nature. “Shi Lung has sent me to request your services, Cruxnic,” he elaborated. “He has a little project for you.”
Caleb leaned back, cringing at the very mention of the Dragon Lord’s name. What could that overgrown lizard want with him this time? Another mission, perhaps. The opening of his night club would have to wait. He didn’t dare to bring the wrath of a dragon upon himself. “A little project, say you?”
Yule nodded, eagerly. “Yes. Although he didn’t reveal any detail of significance, apparently it has something to do with him securing and expanding his territory in the Olympic Peninsula.”
Caleb sighed, folding his hands in front of him, brooding. “Are those shape shifting mongrels, the Quileute tribe, informed of this? I loathed the idea of cowardly tactics against our less than imposing enemies.”
Yule only shrugged, carelessly. What did it matter him? Business between the Methuselah, Dracos, and the Lupin meant nothing the fey who lived in Washington. “Spoken like a true warrior, but transparently no. Me thinks the native Lupin to this region has lost all knowledge of the treaty signed by their forefathers and Shi Lung. Those overgrown wolves main concern right now is the dispute between their people and the supposedly threat of that bizarre Turn Blood coven in Forks.”
Caleb raised the glass to him lips and sipped off the amber liquor, absently, swirling it in his mouth. Hmm… so this had to do with the conflict between the Quileute werewolves and that poor excuse of a vampire coven, the Cullens. They were infamous among the mythical community because of they‘re incapability to acknowledge what they were. Of course, then again, all Turn Bloods were looked down upon.
“Apparently, the Cullens came back to Forks two years ago. Twas news to these ears, considering the Unseelie Court does not pay much attention to what happens outside it’s own borders with the others members of the mythical community. That is unless the Seelie Court looks to seize a portion of our territory,” the fey rambled on. “Even the exiles take no interest in what is happening down there. It’s none of our concern, that’s for sure.”
“But it is of Shi Lung’s,” Caleb interjected, quietly, setting down the glass, peering over at his long time friend. He climbed to his feet, leaving a tip for the bus boy. “I suppose I should hear out what the Dragon Lord has to say. Maybe it will benefit my own means in the end.”
The drive to the opera house was short. An black limo which picked them up at the mortal watering hole, navigated through Seattle’s heavy traffic with ease. The driver being one of Shi Lung’s personal chauffeurs would explain the smooth ride. Everyone within the organization of The Dark Communion, had to be on their best behavior doing their jobs at the height of perfection for in dread of what might take place if they displeased the ruling Dragon Lord. He could easily make a employee disappear from existence with the simple act of snapping his claws.
A large decadent building with flashing lights came into view. Big blinking neon lights running along the twisted over hang declared the Opera performing for the evening. Mortals patrons were lined up outside, dressed in formal gowns and tuxedoes wear, ready for a evening of entertainment provide by unsuspecting faeries. The Opera House of Shi Lung Poe was world renown for it’s exceptional performances, colorful costumes, and graceful actors and actresses. The Dragon Lord’s performers had the human audience eating out of their hands, the dark enchanting dramatization of romantic folklore tales were elegantly done, each actor superb in his or her abilities to put even the most shrub of patrons into a trance of awe and desire. Even Caleb had to admit the performers were well versed in their acts of death defying grace and ease of hymns and lyrics. He, himself, went to a few shows before, displaying an flagrant mortal woman on his arm, giving the poor doomed wench a illusionary night of romance, fine dining, well appreciated arts, and finally love making before she bid the world farewell for an entity of slumber and darkness.
The limo paused in front of the grant entrance to Opera House, waiting for it’s two passengers to exit before leaving them, speeding off into traffic again to pick up another important guest of Seattle’s very own Dragon Lord. All mortal heads inclined toward the very sight of the two very charming men, dressed elegantly as they scrolled nonchalantly past the lines into the lavished lobby of the grand theater, it’s high ceiling crafted in gold and ivory dragons, flying across vibrant etched plaster clouds. The main room held a warm golden and creamy white glow to it. Mosaic vases that adorned the pillars and deep rich colorful furniture, import from the orient, were scattered about the enormous lobby, while satin gold and ivory Persian carpets spanned the entire length of the lobby’s floor.
The doorman didn’t even have to ask two immortals for their tickets, he just let them through as if they were important political officials much to mortal attendants disbelief. Caleb turned to see Yule’s new attire, dressed in a fine green Egypt linen shirt and form fitting brown pants. His long wavy locks of brown tresses hanging loosely over his shoulders. Ah, the wonders of faerie glamour. The vampire didn’t even think ask the fey when he made a shift of clothes. He already suspected it was before they stepped foot out of the limousine. Not that it mattered much since their escort waited for them by the curving main stairway leading up to the main corridor, which would take it’s patiently anticipating guests into the belly of the beast; the grand auditorium, where all the plays took place during the evening hours.
“Aubrey,” Caleb addressed the disguised gargoyle, who straightened promptly when both beings greeted him.
The gargoyle’s broad muscular six foot ten frame was intimidating to any mythical creature who approached and wasn’t being acquainted with his gentler side. The ropes of muscles could be seen underneath his formal mahogany three piece suit, which suited Aubrey’s demeanor. His shoulder-length platinum white hair was slicked back, revealing his broad forehead and dominant etched cheekbones which only seemed to enhance his inhumanly beautiful appearance-a trait all mythical creatures possessed, the ability to present themselves as utterly angelic to mere human eyes while only hinting at what they truly were underneath. The gargoyle indifferent colorless eyes took in both beings, calculating, his gaze wise and old from centuries of weathering history.
Aubrey bowed, respectfully. “Welcome to the Opera House of Shi Lung. It’s good to see you again, Caleb Cruxnic and Yule,” he greeted them formally. His eyes flicked from the vampire to smirking fey behind him. “As I’m sure Yule has explained, Master Shi Lung is waiting for you in the common room. Please follow me.”
Caleb nodded in agreement. It be best to get this accursed meeting over with as soon as possible. He had his own human and inhuman costumes alike to attend too as well. Shi Lung wasn’t the only being who owned a business here in the city. The two immortals pursued after the gargoyle as they were guided up the grand stair, passing casually conversing mortals on their way. The patrons utterly oblivious to beings presence as they socialized among each other. Not one of the humans attending the opera entertained the thought of mythical creatures wandering in their mists. Mortal modern day science didn’t have room for the races of old. Caleb’s people and the rest of the mythical community were regarded as simple fairy tales in this day and age. It was better that way, Caleb reasoned, than the constant fear of being discover during the Dark Ages when such things as witch hunts and the locating of devils in the shadows were a common reoccurrences. It had been very popular among the masses of peasants trying to delude themselves into thinking they were the victims of some great elaborate plot made by the Christian devil and his people were something that should be eliminated from the face of the Earth.
All races suffered from the travesty of the time. Such a grave lost. We all are still recuperating from the lost of life. Not single race was left unscathed, Caleb mused as they strolled down a long spacious corridor, eyeing the emerald walls outlined in gold and glittering crystal chandeliers suspended hundreds of feet above their heads. An painting done during the Imperialism Age in Europe had been positioned with care on the right far wall above an small display table with a glass case showing off one of Shi Lung’s prized possession; a twenty-four carrot gold crowd with shimmering jade jewels embroidered into it’s glowing body. Shi Lung had displays similar to the one all over the Opera House, in every corridor and lounge found throughout the entire infrastructure.
Aubrey turned and hurried up another sparkling marble staircase and down a similar looking hallway. Yule and Caleb followed quietly, taking in the sights, smells, and sounds of the giant theater, never questioning the gargoyle’s sense of direction. Electric glass chandeliers were suspended over heard every hundred feet or so, along the arched the creamy tan ceilings. Painted wooden beams cris-crossed over head as the three immortal wove their way deeper into the Opera House. They went up several more stairways and down hallways, all identical to the one before. Music, signaling the opera was underway pierced the tranquil atmosphere, filling the preternatural hearing of the immortals. It was a Japanese theater production and by the sound of it, the mortal crowd was already lost in the beautiful yet tragic storyline. Caleb found himself, wondering if one of the Yokos were playing the role of their natural birthright. No doubt it thrilled the audience watching them swinging from the staged platforms, no wires attached as they spiraled down to the decorated shimmering stage below, brilliant customs dancing about their lithe frames as they landed. He had seen the production once before, so he knew the storyline to some extend and the marvels the audience must be witnessing at this very moment.
The gargoyle seemed right at home in the Opera House as he guided to them to a solitary crystal glass door at the end of a dimly light corridor. Not doubt the gargoyle had lead them to the director’s private box where Shi Lung sat waiting inside.
Aubrey opened the glass plated door, gesturing for Yule and Caleb to proceed. “The Dragon Lord is expecting you,” he stated in a professionally detached and yet familiar voice, stepping aside for the two immortals to enter.
All the lights in the room were turned off, the air smelling slightly of brimstone and smoke. Three wide square glass windows were lined back to back, peering out into the grand auditorium with it’s flying buttresses and pulled back golden curtains and broad stage where the actors and actress of the House Opera preformed, twirling across the spacious stage as small as colorful figurines. The room itself was large with painted blue walls which exhibited works of art from all eras of the orient. Grecian marble statues stood on either end of the room, forever frozen in time, their angelic faces so surreal it appeared at any moment they would come to life before the fey’s and vampire’s eyes. An large black cherry desk sat parallel with the glass door, positioned in the middle of the expansive room, strategically, surrounded by low lying black leather chairs. The leather chair behind the desk had it’s back to the arrivals, facing the lively stage, viewing the Japanese drama below.
Aubrey closed the door behind Yule and Caleb, shutting out all noise. The room was sound proof. Music from the drama filtered in through speakers installed in the low hanging ceiling above. Aubrey remained by the door incase some one decided to intrude on the Dragon’s Lord’s privacy, while Yule and Caleb stepped forward until they were a few yards away from the desk, waiting for Shi Lung to address them.
“Magnificent, isn‘t it?” came an deep cultured voice from beyond the desk. The chair swirled around, revealing the Dragon Lord in all his glory, dressed in a traditional Chinese robe made of orange and red silk with the insignia of the dragon of the seas embroidered into the fragile fabric. His long silken onyx hair freeing falling pass his broader shoulders. An a refrained smile spread across the dragon’s lips underneath the thick mustache, which hung over either corner of his lips. “Greetings, gentlemen. So good of you to come, Caleb.”
He raised his bejeweled hand and motion for them to come closer. “Sit. Sit,” he stated, his almond shaped black eyes gleaming in the darkness. The two did as they were told, maneuvering to sit in the black leather chairs in front of the long desk. “Now I trust Yule, here, has informed you that I am needing of your services?”
Caleb nodded, solemnly, his eyes stationed on the Dragon Lord who leaned forward, intertwining his ring covered fingers together, folding his hands gracefully in front of him. Smoke floated around the dragon’s head as Shi Lung ’s smile grew wider.
“Good. Good,” he stated, delighted to hear the news. “Then I guess I can get straight to the point, since we all know you don’t like beating around the bush, eh Caleb, my boy?”
Caleb’s body stiffened, wondering what the Dragon Lord could possibility have in store for him. He trusted the reptile in guise as far as he could throw him. What was Shi Lung up to?
“Yes. I don’t waste my time on petty details. I want to know why exactly you summoned me all of beings, Shi Lung. Surely, I am not needed any more after solving your little problem with the increase of Turn Bloods flooding into the city as of two years ago. I have after all repaid my debt to you.”
Yule’s eyes widened at Caleb’s blunt remark, uneasiness shimmering brightly in his opal eyes. Would Shi Lung strike out at Caleb Cruxnic for his contempt of his privileged status in the hierarchy of the supernatural community here in Seattle?
The Dragon Lord only chuckled darkly. “Just like your father. The Atlantis Vampire Lord, Vladimir Cruxnic!” His black eyes glowed even more, serpent eyes glowing in the darkness of the private director‘s box. An ember hue glowing softly in their murky depths. It was a subtle reminder of what Shi Lung truly was underneath that guise of a culture and very wealthy mortal Asian man. “How would you like to open a night club in Port Angeles for me, Caleb Cruxnic?”
Shock rolled through Caleb like a tidal wave coming into shore. All he was psychically capable of doing was to gawk at the beaming Dragon Lord, speechless. “W-What?”
“Expand your business, my dear old friend,” Shi Lung explained, spreading out his hands in a lazy and yet grand gesture of what he meant. “My resources tell me that Port Angeles is brimming with opportunity to establish a new club there for the mythical community on the Olympic Peninsula. After all, you have given the community in this area a place where they can go and be themselves without fear of discovery by humanity. Why expand the favor to the mythical community outside of Seattle? Surely, you will be received well by the old races there.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed in suspicions. “So this is about you expanding your sphere of influence,” he concluded quickly, staring intensely at Shi Lung’s open expression. “You want to secure your reign in the Olympic Peninsula by opening a night club where fey and the like can mingle without human intervention and there hold them in your reptilian clutches with favors and debts.”
Shi Lung’s facial expression fell. “You think ill of me, Cruxnic. I am a creature of honor, Caleb,” he replied, frowning, his brow furrowing in disgrace. “I do not go back on my word. I had given my pledge of alliance to the Quileute tribe that I nor my kind would bring harm onto their lands. That was my word and I intend on keeping it.” He paused to smile sadly. “But you have touched a spot that will be a part of our deal.”
“And so?” Caleb inquired raising an intrigued eyebrow.
Shi Lung sighed, suddenly looking ages older. He slide out of his chair and started to pace back and forth, wearily. “I am… concerned for our Lupin brethren, I will not deny you that, Cruxnic,” he stated, quietly. Most would have not heard him, but because the beings sitting before him were of the same origin, their keen hearing up picked his words instantly. “There has been an increase inTurn Blood activity in the Olympic Peninsula and so I fear for the stability of Quileute ways of life.”
“You mean the Cullens?” the full blooded vampire wanted to know.
Shi Lung shook his head. “No. They do not propose a threat to the existence of the Quileute werewolves, thought no about to the current descendants living there they do. It’s an outside threat I am fretting that will come and try to crush the Lupin who live in that region. I am most certain the pack itself can protect itself from a force so weak as the one living in Forks currently, but as for an outside attack...”
“Do think me foolish to ask, your Greatness, but why concern yourself with such trivial affairs of the werewolves,” Yule piped up. Both beings looked to him. The fey reverted back to his true form. All traces of faerie glamour gone living him bare and exposed for what he truly is. The once brown hair now an deep purple, entangled with thistle and wavering silver willow branches. His pale blue skin shimmered in the darkness as two wide round mischievous opal eyes stared out at the Dragon Lord. The fey’s once stubby like a human ears became long and angular, silver piercing adorning the cartilage of each ear. His frame was long and exaggerated, willowy and lithe. His fingers having an extra joint as he pointed in slender finger in the air to protest the Dragon Lord‘s concerns.
“The treaty your people signed, did not saying anything concerning protecting each other, did it not? So why concern yourself with business that is clearly not yours in the first place?”
Caleb looked to the Dragon Lord, who happened to be lost in thought. “I’m afraid Yule does have a point. Why is it any of our concern if the werewolves are deposed of or not?”
Shi Lung turned to them sharply, his expression severe, deadly even. “You incompetent! Have you forget that the Lupin come from the same origins as you do, Cruxnic. Yule. I understand his perceptive. The fey have never participated in the heated conflict between the Lupin and the Methuselah, but as a Pure Blood, you should feel some connection of compassion to the werewolves. After all their people and yours share a similar past. You both endured the exact same lost when the old regime in the Old World fell at the hands of the Turn Bloods.”
“But what about you?”
Shi Lung composed himself turning his back to the two other immortals. “It is in my best interest to ensure the Quileute’s survival through this constantly changing era. The Lupin race is nearly extinct in Europe and their numbers are running low even in the Orient. America is the only refugee they have left where their descendants can hope to achieve some kind of stability rooted so deeply in tradition.” He reached out to touch the glass window pane, pressing his hand against, appearing to watched the performance, but at the same time looking into the distance past as well. “My European cousins too suffer a great lost during the Medieval Times at the blood stained hands of knights, while my people thrived in the Chinese until the European Crusades began traveling across the continents looking for more terrifying beast to slay, foolishly searching for honor in places where it would never be found.”
The Dragon Lord turned to the two again, his expression serene and determined.
“Many may not share my sympathy or ideals, but I understand what they went through, and even if the Quileute may not fully grasp the turbulences of what their world has been through, or how much their fellow kin have lost in vain, I wish to provide them with something my people were never offered; An escape. The Turn Bloods are all our enemies and is a threat not to be taken likely. I informative that report back weekly, constantly monitoring the Turn Blood population in Washington and it appears that has been an influx of immigration into the locals areas around Forks, Seattle, and several other nearby regions. Such a large movement will no doubt attract the greedy eye of that faulty Turn Blood organization, the Volturi.”
“And so hence the plan for opening a night club in Port Angeles,” Caleb assumed, beginning to already see everything coming into play. Now it made sense as why to the Dragon Lord would make construction plans for a night club so close to Quileute lands. Such a strategic position would give Shi Lung’s organization the upper hand in battle and still be able to send support to the Quileute if need be, while keeping within reasonable guide lines of the ancient treaty.
“Caleb Cruxnic,” Shi Lung addressed the now calculating vampire, amusement reflecting brightly in his sober eyes, bringing Caleb back to the present. A crocked smile spread across the Dragon’s lips. “ I can see that crafty mind of yours already going to work, and since I do not have the psychic abilities of a Methuselah, please elaborate us on what you are devising.”
Caleb’s ocher eyes gleamed brightly with the cunning of a Cruxnic, set on executing a plan to achieve the main objective of the mission in the end. His mind was that of a warrior with centuries of experience underneath his belt after all, so there was no need to worry. That all too famous smirk of his spread across his lips. “Just leave everything to me, Shi Lung. It just so happens I know a few immortals who would be more than willing to help during a crisis dealing with a Turn Blood threat.”
Shi Lung smiled approvingly, already knowing who Caleb had in mind. “I suspect they will be quite thrill to know their services are needed again so soon.”
A/N: Yola! Just letting everyone no idiot morons were harmed in the making of this chapter. Brooke and Edward were just being themselves in the beginning and they’re just fine. A little scared, but fine none the less.
Any who, I would also like to remind everyone who is reading Two Sides of The Coin, that the Character Popularity Contest is still going on, so please do remember to vote for your favorite character, whether it’d be Brooke, Cassie, Emmett, Alice, Edward, Jasper, Rosalie, Carlisle, Esme, Yugi (the cat), Jacob Black, Sam, Quil, Embry, etc. Everyone that has been mention in the fan fiction is up for grabs (excluding Bella), so remember! VOTE LIKE THE WIND!!
Here are the polls so far:
Brooke Sparrow: 0
Cassie Sparrow: 0
Derrick Sparrow (their philosophical father): 0
Yugi (their lovable trouble making cat): 0
Alice Cullen: 1
Jasper Cullen: 0
Edward Cullen: 1
Emmett Cullen: 0
Rosalie Cullen: 0
Esme Cullen: 0
Carlisle Cullen: 0
Jacob Black: 0
Sam: 0
Paul: 0
Jared: 0
Embry: 0
Quil: 0
There you go folks. I know this contest is pretty cheesy and all, but please do participate. The polls are still open, so vote when you review. I’ll be extending the closing date until January fourth to give everyone a little bit more time to vote in their favorite character. Remember at the end of the contest the winning character will have a gorgeously drawn and flattering pcitire of themselves in my artwork. So if you want to see a picture of your favorite character posted up on the internet, vote now!!
Thank you all so much for your support!
Until next update, PEACE OUT!!! XD
Summary: Cassandra and Brooke Sparrow are two sisters with psychic abilities, forced out of their warm California home to live in the dreary town of Fork, Washington, so their father can look for inspiration in the serene mountainside scenery. There they discover appearances can be deceiving when it comes to this boring rainy town. Especially when their closest neighbors just happen to be vampires and they actually go to their school, not to mention the nearby reservation is occupied with werewolves. Their lives are about to spiral into weirdsville and the sisters are going to love every minute of it.
A/N; Heyo, Everyone. Just giving you a heads up. Chapter Nine is written in a different format than the rest of the fan fiction. It’s not told in first person and doesn’t have Cassie or Brooke in it, nor the Cullens as well.
Brooke: WHAT THE HELL?! How come we’re not in it? Cassie and I are the stars of this retarded fan fiction after all.
Edward: Maybe the author simply got sick of your incessant chatter. You do have a tendency of getting on everyone’s nerves.
Brooke: CAN IT, PUSSY BOY!!
Edward: W-WHAT?! Excuse me, but I am not the irrational acting absurd adolescent here!
Moonlight Angel: Will you two hot headed morons can it, or else do I have to do it for you? *pulls out an extremely dangerous looking wooden mallet* I think the readers are ready to move on with the show right about now.
Edward & Brooke: *squeaks in fear of having their brains being bashed in* Yes ma`am!
Moonlight Angel: *smirks satisfied* Good. And now without further delay, here’s Chapter Nine!! ENJOY!!!
Chapter Nine
Rhapsody of The Races of Old
(Third Person Point of View)
Seattle, Washington: 9:30 p.m.
Evening seeped in through the narrow openings of towering glass and steel skyscrapers, the glints of the bright orange ball sinking below the backdrop of the city. Neon lights flashed in the conversing bustling sky as a airplane passed overheard, the roar of it’s jets filling the air, while mortals walked the crowded cement streets below, making their way to and from work, some hoping to chug a few alcoholic drinks after a long hard, stressful day at the office. Voices close and far away echoed softly, barely reaching the tops of the stationary steel giants, standing as guardians of the urban metropolis. No stars could be seen in the dark pallid indigo-orange skies above. The night was only beginning after all and soon the monsters would be soon coming out along with the night owls of the mortal world. No mortal, whatever ethnic group they were born to, realized that creatures of old walked among them, just out of sight, hidden in the shadows of bars, narrow alley ways, and the ever sprawling crowds. Shadows of all shapes and sizes, moved and danced out of reach. The mortals, who they played their dangerous game among, were utterly oblivious to their maneuvers through the crowds, and into the darkness of corridors, to tease and taunt wearied white and blue-collar workers with haunting words whispered in their deaf ears, causing the blind humans to shudder violently involuntary, while the alcohol slowed down their nervous system.
The night was still young. Caleb Cruxnic leaned back in the soft chemical smelling leather booth, absently swirling the ember liquid in the fragile frosted crystal wine glass. It’s metallic surface shimmering in the red glow that pulsed in the fluorescent lights that adorn the low hanging ceiling of a mortal bar called, Mercy’s Wings. His eerie porcelain skin shone in the dim lighting. His curly midnight raven tresses resting at the nape of his neck, tied back in a loose ponytail. An wide rim brown leather hat pulled low to hide his reflective ocher eyes. His slender well sculpted face blank as he watched the liquor tittered back and forth in the glass. The laughter and chatting of unaware of mortals around him and the sweet succulent aroma of mortal blood wafted to him, causing an hollow yearning in his stomach, but he ignored it. He hadn’t hunted for a month now. Not that it bothered him. Centuries of existence taught one to be patient and endure hardships. No time for such trivial things, not now at least.
He lifted his hat to make a quick survey of the mortal pub surrounding him. A group of mortal men lingered around the bar, sitting in the swiveling steel stairs, or standing by the glistening glasslike granite counter, watching a mundane game of football. A quick burst of cheers or hisses escaped them from time to time when one of their favored teams scored a point, or one of the players fumbled the ball. The human bar tenders was handing out drinks, and mixing and stirring contents for the next round of beers. The stench of tobacco hung in the thick musty air. An couple in the booth next to him were huddled together sharing drinks and exchanging casual words, their thoughts flying off into the far reaches of their sexual desires where their psychical bodies were soon to follow. An group of young mortal females walked past his table, stealing glances at the mysterious handsome man sitting by himself, clad in a fine white linen baggy shirt underneath an brown satin frock, wearing a pair of black formal pants and gleaming onyx leather boots. His unruly curly hair falling slightly into his beautifully sculpted facial features. His wide rim hat pulled low over his brow.
The mixture of expensive perfume and blood wafted Caleb’s way as the group of woman passed. Their delightful giggle music to his immortal ears. He always fancied the mortal women, so fragile and delicate like a freshly plucked flower that was soon to wither from old age. He lifted his hat slightly and gesture to them, winking playfully, causing the young ladies to giggle in response to his seemingly open flirting before the group made their way to the back far out of view.
Caleb returned to observe the early evening scene in the bar, his eyes ever searching for a familiar face. Where was that confounded fey?
Yule is late, Caleb thought, frowning intensely. He loathed being made to wait. He had other obligations to full fill rather than waiting in a public mortal bar for an pesky fey, who no knew sense of time what so ever. If he’d known that it would take this long for Yule to show, he would have decline the offer in the first place.
“Did I make you wait long?” an hushed whimsical voice inquire from the shadows behind him. The cloaked fey slinked into view, wearing his mortal guise. His naturally odd tinted skin a soft chalky cream against the red lighting. His eyes an deep piercing opal, set against an angular hawk like face. Long dark brown locks of hair fell past his slender shoulders, dressed in a billowing black trench coat and shaggy wool pants folded into thick boots. He looked equisetic in human form, even though, Caleb knew underneath the vale there was crafty predatory faerie.
“You’re late,” Caleb hissed through his teeth, a thick Russian accent slurring his speech slightly. For a moment a pair of dangerously gleaming fangs came into view before disappearing behind smooth furious pale lips. He watched the fey fluidly slide into the booth, sitting across from him. Time to get straight to the point. “This better be good, Yule. I have a club that needs to be opening before my costumers start a riot in the streets. Now tell me….” He paused carefully analyzing the fey’s devious smile. “What in Keaira’s name is so damn important that you had to drag me from my crypt before the sun was fully down?”
Yule’s smile widen, flashing his jagged pearly white teeth. An malice gleam shimmering in the fiery depths of his black eyes. “My. My. You’re as volatile as ever, Cruxnic,” he chuckled, his wispy voice drifted over the conversing atmosphere like a cooling winter breeze. “And here I thought I would have the privilege of seeing you in a better mood for once.”
A deep rumbling snarl came from deep within Caleb’s chest, stressing his displeasure. His ocher eyes becoming brighter with irritation. When he spoke his low accented tone chilled it’s very hearer to the bone. “Do not test me, faerie. I am a very busy vampire. I won’t hesitate to rip that repulsive head of yours clean off your delicate shoulders. Now get to the point!”
Awe yes, how could Yule forget the lethal promise that laid beyond the death threat. Caleb’s temper was a wicked one. The full blooded vampire felt no remorse in executing anything he deemed a nuisance. The fey had been close companions with the Pure Blood since the late nineteenth century. How could he not shiver at the very personified form of death, itself: the vampire. Unlike today’s modern Turn Bloods, who lived shamefully on the very edges of human society, scurrying around like filthy rodents, living day to day, always roaming, having no true home of their own, an old world Pure Blood was something to truly fear. The purest form of a vampire, an true monster of the night. Holding no shame in what they were. No wailing weakling, savaging creature, who had no true identity of itself. Pull of pride and honor, the Pure Bloods walked among mankind like silent, deadly relics of a time when humans had reason to fear the night.
Yule shook off the terror clenching his dark heart and leaned closer, blocking any chance for a passing mortal to interrupt their intense little conversation. His eyes shifted from a flat black to swirling fiery opal, briefly revealing his true nature. “Shi Lung has sent me to request your services, Cruxnic,” he elaborated. “He has a little project for you.”
Caleb leaned back, cringing at the very mention of the Dragon Lord’s name. What could that overgrown lizard want with him this time? Another mission, perhaps. The opening of his night club would have to wait. He didn’t dare to bring the wrath of a dragon upon himself. “A little project, say you?”
Yule nodded, eagerly. “Yes. Although he didn’t reveal any detail of significance, apparently it has something to do with him securing and expanding his territory in the Olympic Peninsula.”
Caleb sighed, folding his hands in front of him, brooding. “Are those shape shifting mongrels, the Quileute tribe, informed of this? I loathed the idea of cowardly tactics against our less than imposing enemies.”
Yule only shrugged, carelessly. What did it matter him? Business between the Methuselah, Dracos, and the Lupin meant nothing the fey who lived in Washington. “Spoken like a true warrior, but transparently no. Me thinks the native Lupin to this region has lost all knowledge of the treaty signed by their forefathers and Shi Lung. Those overgrown wolves main concern right now is the dispute between their people and the supposedly threat of that bizarre Turn Blood coven in Forks.”
Caleb raised the glass to him lips and sipped off the amber liquor, absently, swirling it in his mouth. Hmm… so this had to do with the conflict between the Quileute werewolves and that poor excuse of a vampire coven, the Cullens. They were infamous among the mythical community because of they‘re incapability to acknowledge what they were. Of course, then again, all Turn Bloods were looked down upon.
“Apparently, the Cullens came back to Forks two years ago. Twas news to these ears, considering the Unseelie Court does not pay much attention to what happens outside it’s own borders with the others members of the mythical community. That is unless the Seelie Court looks to seize a portion of our territory,” the fey rambled on. “Even the exiles take no interest in what is happening down there. It’s none of our concern, that’s for sure.”
“But it is of Shi Lung’s,” Caleb interjected, quietly, setting down the glass, peering over at his long time friend. He climbed to his feet, leaving a tip for the bus boy. “I suppose I should hear out what the Dragon Lord has to say. Maybe it will benefit my own means in the end.”
The drive to the opera house was short. An black limo which picked them up at the mortal watering hole, navigated through Seattle’s heavy traffic with ease. The driver being one of Shi Lung’s personal chauffeurs would explain the smooth ride. Everyone within the organization of The Dark Communion, had to be on their best behavior doing their jobs at the height of perfection for in dread of what might take place if they displeased the ruling Dragon Lord. He could easily make a employee disappear from existence with the simple act of snapping his claws.
A large decadent building with flashing lights came into view. Big blinking neon lights running along the twisted over hang declared the Opera performing for the evening. Mortals patrons were lined up outside, dressed in formal gowns and tuxedoes wear, ready for a evening of entertainment provide by unsuspecting faeries. The Opera House of Shi Lung Poe was world renown for it’s exceptional performances, colorful costumes, and graceful actors and actresses. The Dragon Lord’s performers had the human audience eating out of their hands, the dark enchanting dramatization of romantic folklore tales were elegantly done, each actor superb in his or her abilities to put even the most shrub of patrons into a trance of awe and desire. Even Caleb had to admit the performers were well versed in their acts of death defying grace and ease of hymns and lyrics. He, himself, went to a few shows before, displaying an flagrant mortal woman on his arm, giving the poor doomed wench a illusionary night of romance, fine dining, well appreciated arts, and finally love making before she bid the world farewell for an entity of slumber and darkness.
The limo paused in front of the grant entrance to Opera House, waiting for it’s two passengers to exit before leaving them, speeding off into traffic again to pick up another important guest of Seattle’s very own Dragon Lord. All mortal heads inclined toward the very sight of the two very charming men, dressed elegantly as they scrolled nonchalantly past the lines into the lavished lobby of the grand theater, it’s high ceiling crafted in gold and ivory dragons, flying across vibrant etched plaster clouds. The main room held a warm golden and creamy white glow to it. Mosaic vases that adorned the pillars and deep rich colorful furniture, import from the orient, were scattered about the enormous lobby, while satin gold and ivory Persian carpets spanned the entire length of the lobby’s floor.
The doorman didn’t even have to ask two immortals for their tickets, he just let them through as if they were important political officials much to mortal attendants disbelief. Caleb turned to see Yule’s new attire, dressed in a fine green Egypt linen shirt and form fitting brown pants. His long wavy locks of brown tresses hanging loosely over his shoulders. Ah, the wonders of faerie glamour. The vampire didn’t even think ask the fey when he made a shift of clothes. He already suspected it was before they stepped foot out of the limousine. Not that it mattered much since their escort waited for them by the curving main stairway leading up to the main corridor, which would take it’s patiently anticipating guests into the belly of the beast; the grand auditorium, where all the plays took place during the evening hours.
“Aubrey,” Caleb addressed the disguised gargoyle, who straightened promptly when both beings greeted him.
The gargoyle’s broad muscular six foot ten frame was intimidating to any mythical creature who approached and wasn’t being acquainted with his gentler side. The ropes of muscles could be seen underneath his formal mahogany three piece suit, which suited Aubrey’s demeanor. His shoulder-length platinum white hair was slicked back, revealing his broad forehead and dominant etched cheekbones which only seemed to enhance his inhumanly beautiful appearance-a trait all mythical creatures possessed, the ability to present themselves as utterly angelic to mere human eyes while only hinting at what they truly were underneath. The gargoyle indifferent colorless eyes took in both beings, calculating, his gaze wise and old from centuries of weathering history.
Aubrey bowed, respectfully. “Welcome to the Opera House of Shi Lung. It’s good to see you again, Caleb Cruxnic and Yule,” he greeted them formally. His eyes flicked from the vampire to smirking fey behind him. “As I’m sure Yule has explained, Master Shi Lung is waiting for you in the common room. Please follow me.”
Caleb nodded in agreement. It be best to get this accursed meeting over with as soon as possible. He had his own human and inhuman costumes alike to attend too as well. Shi Lung wasn’t the only being who owned a business here in the city. The two immortals pursued after the gargoyle as they were guided up the grand stair, passing casually conversing mortals on their way. The patrons utterly oblivious to beings presence as they socialized among each other. Not one of the humans attending the opera entertained the thought of mythical creatures wandering in their mists. Mortal modern day science didn’t have room for the races of old. Caleb’s people and the rest of the mythical community were regarded as simple fairy tales in this day and age. It was better that way, Caleb reasoned, than the constant fear of being discover during the Dark Ages when such things as witch hunts and the locating of devils in the shadows were a common reoccurrences. It had been very popular among the masses of peasants trying to delude themselves into thinking they were the victims of some great elaborate plot made by the Christian devil and his people were something that should be eliminated from the face of the Earth.
All races suffered from the travesty of the time. Such a grave lost. We all are still recuperating from the lost of life. Not single race was left unscathed, Caleb mused as they strolled down a long spacious corridor, eyeing the emerald walls outlined in gold and glittering crystal chandeliers suspended hundreds of feet above their heads. An painting done during the Imperialism Age in Europe had been positioned with care on the right far wall above an small display table with a glass case showing off one of Shi Lung’s prized possession; a twenty-four carrot gold crowd with shimmering jade jewels embroidered into it’s glowing body. Shi Lung had displays similar to the one all over the Opera House, in every corridor and lounge found throughout the entire infrastructure.
Aubrey turned and hurried up another sparkling marble staircase and down a similar looking hallway. Yule and Caleb followed quietly, taking in the sights, smells, and sounds of the giant theater, never questioning the gargoyle’s sense of direction. Electric glass chandeliers were suspended over heard every hundred feet or so, along the arched the creamy tan ceilings. Painted wooden beams cris-crossed over head as the three immortal wove their way deeper into the Opera House. They went up several more stairways and down hallways, all identical to the one before. Music, signaling the opera was underway pierced the tranquil atmosphere, filling the preternatural hearing of the immortals. It was a Japanese theater production and by the sound of it, the mortal crowd was already lost in the beautiful yet tragic storyline. Caleb found himself, wondering if one of the Yokos were playing the role of their natural birthright. No doubt it thrilled the audience watching them swinging from the staged platforms, no wires attached as they spiraled down to the decorated shimmering stage below, brilliant customs dancing about their lithe frames as they landed. He had seen the production once before, so he knew the storyline to some extend and the marvels the audience must be witnessing at this very moment.
The gargoyle seemed right at home in the Opera House as he guided to them to a solitary crystal glass door at the end of a dimly light corridor. Not doubt the gargoyle had lead them to the director’s private box where Shi Lung sat waiting inside.
Aubrey opened the glass plated door, gesturing for Yule and Caleb to proceed. “The Dragon Lord is expecting you,” he stated in a professionally detached and yet familiar voice, stepping aside for the two immortals to enter.
All the lights in the room were turned off, the air smelling slightly of brimstone and smoke. Three wide square glass windows were lined back to back, peering out into the grand auditorium with it’s flying buttresses and pulled back golden curtains and broad stage where the actors and actress of the House Opera preformed, twirling across the spacious stage as small as colorful figurines. The room itself was large with painted blue walls which exhibited works of art from all eras of the orient. Grecian marble statues stood on either end of the room, forever frozen in time, their angelic faces so surreal it appeared at any moment they would come to life before the fey’s and vampire’s eyes. An large black cherry desk sat parallel with the glass door, positioned in the middle of the expansive room, strategically, surrounded by low lying black leather chairs. The leather chair behind the desk had it’s back to the arrivals, facing the lively stage, viewing the Japanese drama below.
Aubrey closed the door behind Yule and Caleb, shutting out all noise. The room was sound proof. Music from the drama filtered in through speakers installed in the low hanging ceiling above. Aubrey remained by the door incase some one decided to intrude on the Dragon’s Lord’s privacy, while Yule and Caleb stepped forward until they were a few yards away from the desk, waiting for Shi Lung to address them.
“Magnificent, isn‘t it?” came an deep cultured voice from beyond the desk. The chair swirled around, revealing the Dragon Lord in all his glory, dressed in a traditional Chinese robe made of orange and red silk with the insignia of the dragon of the seas embroidered into the fragile fabric. His long silken onyx hair freeing falling pass his broader shoulders. An a refrained smile spread across the dragon’s lips underneath the thick mustache, which hung over either corner of his lips. “Greetings, gentlemen. So good of you to come, Caleb.”
He raised his bejeweled hand and motion for them to come closer. “Sit. Sit,” he stated, his almond shaped black eyes gleaming in the darkness. The two did as they were told, maneuvering to sit in the black leather chairs in front of the long desk. “Now I trust Yule, here, has informed you that I am needing of your services?”
Caleb nodded, solemnly, his eyes stationed on the Dragon Lord who leaned forward, intertwining his ring covered fingers together, folding his hands gracefully in front of him. Smoke floated around the dragon’s head as Shi Lung ’s smile grew wider.
“Good. Good,” he stated, delighted to hear the news. “Then I guess I can get straight to the point, since we all know you don’t like beating around the bush, eh Caleb, my boy?”
Caleb’s body stiffened, wondering what the Dragon Lord could possibility have in store for him. He trusted the reptile in guise as far as he could throw him. What was Shi Lung up to?
“Yes. I don’t waste my time on petty details. I want to know why exactly you summoned me all of beings, Shi Lung. Surely, I am not needed any more after solving your little problem with the increase of Turn Bloods flooding into the city as of two years ago. I have after all repaid my debt to you.”
Yule’s eyes widened at Caleb’s blunt remark, uneasiness shimmering brightly in his opal eyes. Would Shi Lung strike out at Caleb Cruxnic for his contempt of his privileged status in the hierarchy of the supernatural community here in Seattle?
The Dragon Lord only chuckled darkly. “Just like your father. The Atlantis Vampire Lord, Vladimir Cruxnic!” His black eyes glowed even more, serpent eyes glowing in the darkness of the private director‘s box. An ember hue glowing softly in their murky depths. It was a subtle reminder of what Shi Lung truly was underneath that guise of a culture and very wealthy mortal Asian man. “How would you like to open a night club in Port Angeles for me, Caleb Cruxnic?”
Shock rolled through Caleb like a tidal wave coming into shore. All he was psychically capable of doing was to gawk at the beaming Dragon Lord, speechless. “W-What?”
“Expand your business, my dear old friend,” Shi Lung explained, spreading out his hands in a lazy and yet grand gesture of what he meant. “My resources tell me that Port Angeles is brimming with opportunity to establish a new club there for the mythical community on the Olympic Peninsula. After all, you have given the community in this area a place where they can go and be themselves without fear of discovery by humanity. Why expand the favor to the mythical community outside of Seattle? Surely, you will be received well by the old races there.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed in suspicions. “So this is about you expanding your sphere of influence,” he concluded quickly, staring intensely at Shi Lung’s open expression. “You want to secure your reign in the Olympic Peninsula by opening a night club where fey and the like can mingle without human intervention and there hold them in your reptilian clutches with favors and debts.”
Shi Lung’s facial expression fell. “You think ill of me, Cruxnic. I am a creature of honor, Caleb,” he replied, frowning, his brow furrowing in disgrace. “I do not go back on my word. I had given my pledge of alliance to the Quileute tribe that I nor my kind would bring harm onto their lands. That was my word and I intend on keeping it.” He paused to smile sadly. “But you have touched a spot that will be a part of our deal.”
“And so?” Caleb inquired raising an intrigued eyebrow.
Shi Lung sighed, suddenly looking ages older. He slide out of his chair and started to pace back and forth, wearily. “I am… concerned for our Lupin brethren, I will not deny you that, Cruxnic,” he stated, quietly. Most would have not heard him, but because the beings sitting before him were of the same origin, their keen hearing up picked his words instantly. “There has been an increase inTurn Blood activity in the Olympic Peninsula and so I fear for the stability of Quileute ways of life.”
“You mean the Cullens?” the full blooded vampire wanted to know.
Shi Lung shook his head. “No. They do not propose a threat to the existence of the Quileute werewolves, thought no about to the current descendants living there they do. It’s an outside threat I am fretting that will come and try to crush the Lupin who live in that region. I am most certain the pack itself can protect itself from a force so weak as the one living in Forks currently, but as for an outside attack...”
“Do think me foolish to ask, your Greatness, but why concern yourself with such trivial affairs of the werewolves,” Yule piped up. Both beings looked to him. The fey reverted back to his true form. All traces of faerie glamour gone living him bare and exposed for what he truly is. The once brown hair now an deep purple, entangled with thistle and wavering silver willow branches. His pale blue skin shimmered in the darkness as two wide round mischievous opal eyes stared out at the Dragon Lord. The fey’s once stubby like a human ears became long and angular, silver piercing adorning the cartilage of each ear. His frame was long and exaggerated, willowy and lithe. His fingers having an extra joint as he pointed in slender finger in the air to protest the Dragon Lord‘s concerns.
“The treaty your people signed, did not saying anything concerning protecting each other, did it not? So why concern yourself with business that is clearly not yours in the first place?”
Caleb looked to the Dragon Lord, who happened to be lost in thought. “I’m afraid Yule does have a point. Why is it any of our concern if the werewolves are deposed of or not?”
Shi Lung turned to them sharply, his expression severe, deadly even. “You incompetent! Have you forget that the Lupin come from the same origins as you do, Cruxnic. Yule. I understand his perceptive. The fey have never participated in the heated conflict between the Lupin and the Methuselah, but as a Pure Blood, you should feel some connection of compassion to the werewolves. After all their people and yours share a similar past. You both endured the exact same lost when the old regime in the Old World fell at the hands of the Turn Bloods.”
“But what about you?”
Shi Lung composed himself turning his back to the two other immortals. “It is in my best interest to ensure the Quileute’s survival through this constantly changing era. The Lupin race is nearly extinct in Europe and their numbers are running low even in the Orient. America is the only refugee they have left where their descendants can hope to achieve some kind of stability rooted so deeply in tradition.” He reached out to touch the glass window pane, pressing his hand against, appearing to watched the performance, but at the same time looking into the distance past as well. “My European cousins too suffer a great lost during the Medieval Times at the blood stained hands of knights, while my people thrived in the Chinese until the European Crusades began traveling across the continents looking for more terrifying beast to slay, foolishly searching for honor in places where it would never be found.”
The Dragon Lord turned to the two again, his expression serene and determined.
“Many may not share my sympathy or ideals, but I understand what they went through, and even if the Quileute may not fully grasp the turbulences of what their world has been through, or how much their fellow kin have lost in vain, I wish to provide them with something my people were never offered; An escape. The Turn Bloods are all our enemies and is a threat not to be taken likely. I informative that report back weekly, constantly monitoring the Turn Blood population in Washington and it appears that has been an influx of immigration into the locals areas around Forks, Seattle, and several other nearby regions. Such a large movement will no doubt attract the greedy eye of that faulty Turn Blood organization, the Volturi.”
“And so hence the plan for opening a night club in Port Angeles,” Caleb assumed, beginning to already see everything coming into play. Now it made sense as why to the Dragon Lord would make construction plans for a night club so close to Quileute lands. Such a strategic position would give Shi Lung’s organization the upper hand in battle and still be able to send support to the Quileute if need be, while keeping within reasonable guide lines of the ancient treaty.
“Caleb Cruxnic,” Shi Lung addressed the now calculating vampire, amusement reflecting brightly in his sober eyes, bringing Caleb back to the present. A crocked smile spread across the Dragon’s lips. “ I can see that crafty mind of yours already going to work, and since I do not have the psychic abilities of a Methuselah, please elaborate us on what you are devising.”
Caleb’s ocher eyes gleamed brightly with the cunning of a Cruxnic, set on executing a plan to achieve the main objective of the mission in the end. His mind was that of a warrior with centuries of experience underneath his belt after all, so there was no need to worry. That all too famous smirk of his spread across his lips. “Just leave everything to me, Shi Lung. It just so happens I know a few immortals who would be more than willing to help during a crisis dealing with a Turn Blood threat.”
Shi Lung smiled approvingly, already knowing who Caleb had in mind. “I suspect they will be quite thrill to know their services are needed again so soon.”
A/N: Yola! Just letting everyone no idiot morons were harmed in the making of this chapter. Brooke and Edward were just being themselves in the beginning and they’re just fine. A little scared, but fine none the less.
Any who, I would also like to remind everyone who is reading Two Sides of The Coin, that the Character Popularity Contest is still going on, so please do remember to vote for your favorite character, whether it’d be Brooke, Cassie, Emmett, Alice, Edward, Jasper, Rosalie, Carlisle, Esme, Yugi (the cat), Jacob Black, Sam, Quil, Embry, etc. Everyone that has been mention in the fan fiction is up for grabs (excluding Bella), so remember! VOTE LIKE THE WIND!!
Here are the polls so far:
Brooke Sparrow: 0
Cassie Sparrow: 0
Derrick Sparrow (their philosophical father): 0
Yugi (their lovable trouble making cat): 0
Alice Cullen: 1
Jasper Cullen: 0
Edward Cullen: 1
Emmett Cullen: 0
Rosalie Cullen: 0
Esme Cullen: 0
Carlisle Cullen: 0
Jacob Black: 0
Sam: 0
Paul: 0
Jared: 0
Embry: 0
Quil: 0
There you go folks. I know this contest is pretty cheesy and all, but please do participate. The polls are still open, so vote when you review. I’ll be extending the closing date until January fourth to give everyone a little bit more time to vote in their favorite character. Remember at the end of the contest the winning character will have a gorgeously drawn and flattering pcitire of themselves in my artwork. So if you want to see a picture of your favorite character posted up on the internet, vote now!!
Thank you all so much for your support!
Until next update, PEACE OUT!!! XD