Eternal: Chapter Three, Part 3

It seemed hours passed before she came out of the room, followed by a voice demanding Mitchell enter. She glanced in my direction and then retreated into a corner of her own, defeated. Whatever happened hadn’t gone well. It had exhausted and drained her.

Though I could have asked what had transpired, I resolved to plot, to find a solution to this new predicament. I didn’t want to be the ingénue and Drei the villain. Valetta and Mitchell didn’t deserve to be punished. At least, I didn’t want them to be punished. I wanted everything to work out well. I needed Drei; and although I didn’t know what they would do yet, I needed Valetta and Mitchell as well.

I was determined to find some solution. There had to be one.

Mitchell exited after another extensive period of waiting. He moved as if to look in my direction, but changed his mind and leaned against the wall a few feet from Valetta. The demanding voice summoned Drei.

He didn’t seem to see anything as he disappeared into the room again; he just stared ahead as if indifferent to these events. Watching him leave, I felt hurt. Not because I was afraid for him, but because he didn’t look at me. Once I had told him lying hurt more than it helped. Right then, all I wanted was for him to lie to me. Tell me it would all work out, or not to worry; I’d even settle for a convincing smile. Anything to make the situation seem better than it was.

There was a crack in the wall across from me. I stared at it, wondering. I wondered what was happening in that room; why, when I tried to listen in, I couldn’t keep my focus; what would happen to me; why they would leave this crack in the wall. It wasn’t a very interesting place to look. Occasionally, a spider or two crept in or out but, other than that, it was just a black slice of void. It gave me somewhere to look, I supposed. Somewhere that wasn’t completely hopeless. Valetta and Mitchell were so worn and defeated it made me feel worse to look at them. Something about this place suggested speaking with them would be entirely inappropriate and punishable by some obscure Council ruling.

As I stared and thought, occasional ideas popped up that had nothing to do with what I was thinking. All of them, I realized after a while, were related to the Council and my movement. Studying the hole in the wall as if it held the answer to how these two were connected, I began to see how I might be able to spare all of us from punishment. Might being the key word. I’d have to do a ton of smooth talking and hope the Council bought into it.

Eternal: Chapter Three, Part 2

“We shall begin the proceedings on this first night in May, of the human year 2015,” the presiding vampire, the one seated above the rest, stated in a dramatically disinterested voice. His dark eyes were scanning over a document before him, then they glinted at us as he continued, “We shall begin with the reading of your charges. Step forward when your name is called.”

“Valetta Bevinston,” the centermost councilmember began; Valetta took a step forward, her head up but her eyes diverted. “You are being charged with conspiring against Council rulings and being an accessory to unlawful conduct. Do you understand the charges brought against you?” His dark eyes bore into her.

“I do.”

“Very well, then,” he said, monotonously. “Mitchell Jameson.”

He stepped forward, changing places with Valetta. The vampire read the same list of charges, to which Mitchell agreed he understood. I watched, everything feeling as though it was happening in slow motion. This was happening because of me. They encouraged us, kept our secret, and now they were being charged as felons. It wasn’t right; I wanted to make this go away, to plot a way to fix things. But the vampire’s silky, monotonous voice demanded absolute attention and any attempt to do otherwise was thwarted the moment he spoke again.

“Drei Valmoritim.” My eyes followed Drei as he stepped forward, my plotting forgotten. Unlike Mitchell and Valetta, he didn’t look down, but stared at the vampire, awaiting the list of charges he faced. He knew, already, what rules he had broken, and the consequences. He wasn’t going fight them; he wouldn’t deny any of it. Despite the situation, that thought delighted me briefly. Drei wouldn’t deny me; even if that was our undoing, it was the greatest thing he could have done. The feeling, though, disappeared as the vampire began reading the charges.

“You are being charged with conspiring against Council rulings, jeopardizing an elemental’s purpose, seducing a mortal, seducing an elemental, feeding on a mortal, feeding on an elemental, and two acts of high treason: turning a mortal and turning an elemental.” My heart sank with each item. “Do you understand the charges brought against you?”

“I do,” Drei replied stonily, his face set like marble. Shadows didn’t dance across his features, but he appeared just as menacing as the others. I wished I could appear strong like him in this place; I’d even settle for the subdued guiltiness of Valetta and Mitchell. But all I continued to feel was ill and crushingly guilty.

“Abriel Jones.” Drei stepped back to the far side of Mitchell as I took his place, glancing down the line of shadowy figures before me before diverting my eyes to my feet. “Sir,” he said, turning to face the presiding vampire. “You wished to handle this one?”

“Yes, Tudor,” he replied before turning his attention away from the document before him. “Miss Jones, how long has it been since you were turned?”

“Roughly a year and a couple of weeks,” I answered, looking up at him as he leaned forward, more of his face coming into the lantern light.

“Were you given a choice in the matter?”

“Will it change anything?”

“In the case of your charges and the outcome in regards to you, it will,” he said, his black eyes studying me carefully. I was about to glance over my shoulder at Drei when he snapped at me to answer him. Yeah, they definitely knew how to be delicate about this sort of thing.

“No,” I whispered, unable to return my gaze to him.

“Miss Jones, you are then free of charges as an innocent, for the time being. If our interrogations to follow should find you otherwise, the charge will be of falsifying information and seduction of a vampire,” he said before sitting back again. “Should your status remain that of an innocent, during your interrogation, we will also deliberate what shall be done about you.” Was I really so much of a burden something had to be done about me? If I were in a better state I probably would have argued with him. I was their burden because they deemed me so, not because I had to be. “Do you understand your situation?”

“I do.”

“Adjourn to the hallway,” Tudor instructed. “You shall be summoned one at a time for your interrogations. We shall begin with Valetta Bevinston.”

In the hallway, Mitchell paced anxiously, glancing towards the door, concerned with how Valetta was faring. Drei leaned elegantly against a wall, his hands buried in his pockets, his eyes closed in meditation. Between Drei’s resignation and Mitchell’s nerves, I didn’t have focus enough to figure out how I was feeling amidst this mess. By now, I was fairly certain my nerves were shot and I was faintly worried about how Valetta was doing, how Mitchell would do next, and Drei after him, but I had no clue as to what the vast majority of me was feeling.

I sat curled in the corner, my head resting in my arms. This whole experience was tiring and the lack of fresh air wasn’t helping my hunger—now a fairly large part in my distraction. If anything, it only starved me faster.

Mentally shaking myself, I pried my mind from thoughts of my hunger and tried listening to whatever was happening to Valetta. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to concentrate long enough to pull the conversation to me. Their emotions were drawing too much of my element’s attention, seeking anything that resembled what it usually relied on to satiate me.

Eternal: Chapter Three, Part 1

Chapter Three: Time Bargain

Two vampires, their faces distorted by shadows cast by flickering torches overhead, ushered us from the car into a building with a worn smooth, stone exterior. I wasn’t sure where we were, but it wasn’t any part of the city I remembered seeing before. Everything here had an old fashioned feel to it, nothing like the modern or classic brick buildings to which I had grown accustomed. From what glimpses I caught of the building, it was built in a gothic mansion style, three stories, tall windows, and what seemed to be gargoyles—though it was difficult to tell in the darkness.

Inside, it reminded me of the kinds of places people tell you to stay away from in ghost stories. All of the walls were faded reds and browns with discolored crown moldings and cobwebbed corners. The main foyer was lit by a chandelier—electric, surprisingly enough. It, too, was strung with thick cobwebs.

We were led through dimly lit hallways and past numerous nondescript doors before our guides directed us to wait in a small sitting room. My nerves had me taking in everything from the cracked and flaking paint of the portrait over the fireplace to the stiff furniture in floral upholstery from what I guessed to be the Victorian era. There were no windows and the walls were blotchy in their fading, as if long-removed décor had prevented an even weathering. The only lighting came from the few scones spaced along the walls.

Drei sat across the room from me. I thought I understood why, but the action only worsened my nerves. Even with Valetta sitting beside me, pushing damp hair from my forehead and telling me it would be fine, I couldn’t help wondering what came next. What would they say or do? Why were Valetta and Mitchell here when they hadn’t done anything wrong? Was there a chance of talking the Council down from whatever decision they made? Sitting in that room, it didn’t feel like it. Not as time seemed to only vaguely tick away.

It seemed a lifetime had passed before another shadow faced vampire entered the room and announced the Council would see us. Drei and Mitchell followed Valetta and me out; all of the emotions they weren’t showing flooded my senses, making me feel sick. I wanted away from this suffocating tomb. If I kept telling myself this wouldn’t take long, I could attempt keeping the illness at bay; I didn’t allow myself to contemplate what a brief run-in with the Council might mean, though.

The vampire held the door as we filed into a dark room, allowing it to slam menacingly behind us and causing me to jump. Even if we were in quite the predicament, they could at least strive for ambivalence rather than menace.

A handful of lanterns sprang to life upon the towering desk before us, illuminating the seven council members and another who sat above them. I guessed the eighth might have been the eldest, the founder, or perhaps some sort of monarch; it was clear he was separate but more important than the others. Shadows danced over the eight faces and I noticed only one of them was female, which struck me as odd. As conservative as I had conceived them to be, it didn’t seem likely a woman would be among their numbers. Then again, if she was anywhere near as strong as Valetta—particularly in regards to intelligence and opinions—it was less surprising. I found her presence at the desk slightly calming and reassuring.

With the shadows playing across their visages, they seemed thinner than any movie exaggeration, their faces elongated and severe. The effect was meant to intimidate, obviously, but their image wasn’t nearly as unsettling as their possible ruling. I would have found it more unsettling if they were all sitting in a brightly lit room wearing blue jeans and tees, talking about the weather when we entered. This presentation was expected to some extent and, therefore, unimpressive.

Elemental: Chapter Two, Part 1

Changed Existence

The next day, I slept in and felt consummately miserable. My mind troubled over if Richie would remember the previous night and hold it against me, or if anyone would inquire as to why I wouldn’t do what he had asked since it was so commonly done those days. My parents, thank heavens, had gone to Aspen for a two-week retreat—mostly my mother's idea—giving me some time to regain my composure.

Turns out, I shouldn’t have worried myself. I awoke Monday morning with a headache the size of China and a cold suitable for a giant. The school excused me, trusting I wouldn’t lie and expecting to find any acting skills lacking. I think they were used to having students call themselves out sick and such on the occasion. Our parents weren’t the average sort who went on vacation with us, after all.

At first I attempted reading, only to find I couldn’t focus if I was blowing my nose every five seconds. TV proved difficult to watch for the same reason. I finally settled for three boxes of tissue, a microfleece blanket, and the cushy chaise lounge on our glass encased porch. There I fell asleep for a few minutes at a time before being jarred awake by killer sneezing fits; while these fits may not have actually killed anyone, they felt like they had the potential to do so. Many times the fits were so forceful I feared they would send me flying backwards. If my eyes weren’t too blurry afterwards, I could see the fog left on the glass from them. An amazing feat considering I was at least ten feet from any of the glass walls. At some point, I had been facing the tissue box and sent it flying across the room, smacking into the wall looking out over the garden.

Though I had never before experienced a cold firsthand—don't confuse this with my never having been ill, because I've had the flu, chicken pox, and strep throat—I knew this was not the norm. Not even aspirin and cold medicine could quell the fits.

A maid found me half asleep, wheezing with my stuffed sinuses and twisted in the blanket. She informed me—after another round of sneezes woke me—Richie had stopped by earlier. When she told him I was asleep, recovering from a bad bug, he left my purse in her care and said he would call later. I hoped he had forgotten what had happened after all.

I felt slightly better—since my headache was receding—when Richie called. We spoke briefly of the events he remembered; I wasn’t keen on filling in what he had forgotten. Luckily, he believed he had been smashed and ran headlong into the wall, ending up there for the night. Presumably, I did stay the night and left early, forgetting my purse, but arranging for a friend to give me a ride home. He apologized for the ass he assumed he had been, and I told him I forgave him. I added we should probably take a break until he could control his alcohol consumption; that I didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t know when to stop—which was probably the only whole truth I gave him. Granted he was gravely disappointed, he did accept this explanation and swore to be better so we could have another go.

My entire being agreed that would never happen.