History in the Making

Umm. Hi?

Well, lookit who's totally ignored her NaNoWriMo story since the last day she wrote anything on it.

I TAKE THAT BACK, ACTUALLY. I have edited chapter one, and chapter two is in the beta's - a lovely girl named Erin - inbox, BUT. That's been... a few months ago.

Umm. I've got three goals for this summer:

Lose forty pounds
Save money for college
Finish and revise Sinking

So, I'm definitely planning on starting some major overhaul on Sinking, like, soon. Of course, I'm contemplating on doing ScriptFrenzy, buuuuuut I might scrap that idea and just set myself down fully focused to finish Sinking. 'Cause I really want to go somewhere with this novel, and I also just want to have it completely out of the way by the time NaNo '07 rolls around, ya dig?

What I think I'm going to do is just start posting the revised chapters here in this journal as new posts. That way, we can all still have the original stuff to look back on and laugh at. Cute, huh?

Granted, I'm not gonna go speedy-quick at it. I want this to be done right and well and good and yeah. But. Uhh. Yeah. Expect something to be happening with this account soon. I will not just let Sinking die in the way of all my other unfinished stories.

And speaking of NaNo '07... AAAAH. I NEED A PLOT.

-- Kathleen

That's right, kiddies! Today is November 30th, the last day of NaNoWriMo 2006.

AND GUESS FLIPPIN' WHAT?!

My word count? As of right now? 50,066!

I'VE WON NANOWRIMO!

So, here is nearly the last of my book. I still need to write up the very end, and yeah, I know, that last sentence is incomplete, BUT, I am taking a small break from Sinking. I will finish it, though. Probably this weekend.

It's been great. Eeep!

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Forgetting his idea to visit with Crystin Anne, he continued to pace up and down the corridor, Rhys contemplated, muttering to himself, his lips moving at a rapid pace making other passengers stare at him in muddled curiosity. Could this man be a madman?

His shoulder ran against the inner wall of the ship, the white fabric of his shirt lightly brushing the metal walls. He jumped, leaving his thoughts behind, when he saw a foreboding shadow just up ahead. Turning the corner before him was the swishing skirts of a feminine form, though he could not see her face.

Her bouncing curls bobbed out of his view, and he quickened his pace, following her, though he was certain that he should do no such thing. Sighing and running his fingers roughly through his hair, Kai continued to hurry, practically becoming a blur as he dipped into the powers bestowed on his kind, making them be better in all ways, including being quicker than any and all humans.

Catching up with the mysterious woman finally, he reached out and grabbed her arm tightly, spinning her around. Expecting to see a smirk accompanied with pearly white, sharp fangs and knowing eyes, Rhys was shocked when he instead looked down on a shocked speechless face of some nondescript passenger.

She stood there, looking up at him, her eyes widened in terror. Her mouth was agape, but finally, she looked down, breaking the trance between their eyes. Her eyes lowered to his strong hand gripping her thin arm. She winced as she finally broke free of the initial shock of this strange man grabbing onto her, and instead she tried to jerk away, but Rhys was still frozen.

Eventually, he sprung to life, immediately releasing his hold on her. He flexed his fingers as she rubbed her shoulder and pivoted around, flouncing down the remainder of the corridor until she reached her room and slammed the door shut.

Rhys pressed his back to the wall and slid down, crouching into as small a space as he could. He closed his eyes, hiding his face in his hands. For long moments, he stayed there, not breathing or focusing on anything.

He had been so sure that the woman had been Sturla, sent by Kai to spy on him. Renewed with fear of his brother, he counted down the days until his new deadline. He knew Kai would not let him go so long as Christmas as Kai hated the holiday and everything – everything – he stood for.

He had to turn a girl; he had to just choose some helpless soul and pray that the Lord would forgive his eternally damned soul as he sank his teeth into her. It was one person. He needed to convince himself that just one soul was worth it to save himself and the hundreds of other people Kai would torture and kill until Rhys relented and broke down enough to turn a girl into an immortally damned.

His mind pulled forth the image of Crystin Anne, and he cursed to himself, jumping up and hurrying back to his room. He slammed the door behind him. He would not turn Crystin Anne! In such a short time, he already was growing extremely fond of her, even though they barely talked. But they spent every evening together, and he enjoyed her company. Though, he had hopes that one day he would draw her out of her shell and hear her laugh loud and free, and maybe she would look in his eyes and entrance him instead of him using his powers to put her under a momentary spell.

But, she could never do any of those many, various things if Rhys delved into evil temptations and stole her young life from her body. He could never steal her soul from her. He just could not, not on pain of a final death.

He lay in bed for several hours, not moving and barely thinking. He gave himself over to total and complete mental abandonment, hardly even noticing as the hours ticked away. Finally, he noticed the filtered sunlight shining into his room was steadily fading, and shadows were morphing around the room, giving him all new demons to imagine.

Several times, he imagined he saw Kai standing in the corner opposite from Rhys, and he physically recoiled. Damning his older brother, he got up and stared out of the tiny circular window, no longer seeing the cursed sun, but instead a crescent moon shone down from the sky as dark as black coals lying dormant for far too long.

He drummed his hand against the open window’s edge and exited his room, leaving the door open behind him. He could forget all his problems, at least for a little while, as he spent time with Crystin Anne.

Crystin Anne looked up from her new book. Having finished the riveting book on the high romance of Jace and Raina, she had moved on to something classic, but always a favorite of her. Thankful she had packed her worn copy of Romeo and Juliet, she flipped the page as she looked from one family member to another. Having nothing better to do, her parents spent the majority of the time sleeping soundly in their small bed.

That much was far from the truth when it came to Elsie Jane Jane, who spent her time either pestering her older sister or doodling on her sketchpad. When she could not convince Crystin Anne to play Hangman or Eat Poop You Cat or Tic Tac Toe for the million and first time, she sat in her corner of the bed, making her dolls have conversations with each other about all sorts of thing from fairytale stories to whatever else struck her fancy.

Crystin Anne folded down the corner of the page she was on, standing and stretching before sitting the book down in her place. Elsie Jane looked up from her sketchpad as Crystin Anne made her way to the door, quietly unlocking it and attempting to sneak out.

“Where are you goin’?” Elsie Jane questioned after her sister, and Crystin Anne stopped just before completely exiting and turned around, a wide smile on her face.

Crystin Anne was horrible at lying in any shape or form. She wrung her hands, balancing the heavy door on her cocked hip. She stared at Elsie Jane for several long moments.

"I was... going... for a walk," she answered, telling herself it was vague enough to still be complete truth, for she was going for a walk.

"Where?" Elsie Jane questioned, clambering across the bed, scattering dolls and pieces of paper in her wake. She jumped off the bed and stared, open mouthed, at their parents for long moments to see if her mischievous, clumsy noises had awakened them. Crystin Anne put a finger to her mouth and gave her younger sister a pointed stare.

Crystin Anne cursed in her head. Why did Elsie Jane have to be so blasted curious? "Around," she replied, still only vaguely answering Elsie Jane's questions. Elsie tilted her head and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Can I come?" Crystin Anne nearly screamed. Why was Elsie Jane being so difficult. Staring at the confines of their tiny room, however, Crystin Anne understood why Elsie Jane was so curious. She had been kept in this room for four days now. Four long days with nothing to do and no one to talk to, save for her family. Crystin Anne sighed, shaking her head and walking over to Elsie Jane, patting her on the cheek.

"Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow when it's daylight? You should be getting some rest, anyway," Crystin Anne declined, her voice riddled with authority and responsibility. Elsie Jane sulked, crossing her chubby arms over her chest and poking out her lower lip. Her face still had the roundness of an infant, and she puffed out her cheeks, looking like a bug eyed monster. Though, Crystin Anne thought with affection, she did make a very cute bug eyed monster.

"I'll be back soon, I promise," Crystin Anne guaranteed, turning to leave. Elsie Jane stamped her foot.

"But you get to go out every night!" she protested, screwing her face up sulkily. Crystin Anne threw her head back and sighed loudly.

"Just go to sleep, please, Elsie? Please? This will be the last time I leave, I promise. And tomorrow, I'll even sneak you out on deck first thing in the morning so we can watch the sunrise from the deck together. But only if you stop making so much wretched noise and make sure not to tell mum and papa," she bargained with Elsie Jane, who relented, grinning from ear to ear.

"Deal," she agreed, dashing into the bed and throwing the covers over her head. Crystin Anne turned around without another word and left the room, closing the door.

As soon as she turned to face the corridor, she saw Rhys, leaning against the opposite wall of the thin corridor. "How long have you been there?" Crystin Anne asked, a furious blush dancing across her freckled cheeks.

Rhys shrugged, stepping out of the shadows and coming within inches of Crystin Anne. She fought the urge to automatically back up and tried to hold her ground. She licked her lip, and Rhys's eyes followed her the movement of her tongue, making her blush all the more.

She made to walk towards the stairway, and Rhys fell in step beside her. He looked down at her, as no matter how tall she was, the top of her head only came to his chin, and studied her. Once again, she had on the blue dress she alternated with the brown of the same cut. The blue belt she had worn on a previous day was gone, and instead the fabric hung straight down past her ankles.

Her hair was in a tight plait, and she still would not meet his gaze. He exhaled deeply. "Are you going to hold your promise to your little sister?" he asked, breaking the silence they had fallen into once again. Crystin Anne shrugged helplessly.

"I suppose I will have to until we reach Liverpool, and then..." she trailed off shyly, her eyes casting down demurely. Rhys took the initiative.

"And then? And then what? Do you want to still see me once we're off the Empress?" he asked rather harshly, wincing as Crystin Anne looked up at him petulantly.

"Only if you wish to still see me," she whispered, looking down once more. He noticed she held a handkerchief in her hands and was twisting it tightly, worrying the cloth to a fine, fine line.

He sighed, reaching over and taking her hand in his. It was the first time they had ever touched, lingeringly at least, and he took the handkerchief from her as they exited the stairway and made it to the railing.

He pulled her along, setting a fast pace, as they ran across the deck from railing to railing. Crystin Anne felt her lungs tightening, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the stumbled and bumbled behind Rhys, whose steady lope made her look like an incompetent bumpkin.

She could not breathe, and she sent a prayer to God that he would not let her have an attack right now. Not in front of Rhys. But finally, her asthma overtook her and she slipped from Rhys's hand and limply fell to the deck like a discarded rag doll.

Rhys immediately halted and whirled around, his eyes wide. He saw Crystin Anne laying on the deck, her hand to her chest as she coughed and wheezed, sputtering to catch her breath.

He ran to her, going to his knees beside her. He propped her head up on one of his legs, his eyes wide with worry. "What's wrong, Crystin Anne?" he frantically asked, and she shook her head, her face as white as a ghost as her breathing sounded like her very lungs were rattling around in her ribcage.

Finally, after the worst of the attack had past, Crystin Anne lay there, her head still resting on Rhys's leg as she suffered from a residual painful headache. She wanted to kick herself; she was so terribly embarrassed. She did not want anyone to know she suffered from something so ridiculously crippling as asthma, but she especially did not want Rhys to know. Not yet, at least. Not when they were still getting to know one another.

She looked up at Rhys, who watched her every move. She smiled weakly, breathing easier, her chest rising and falling with little effort on her part, though each breath still stung sharply, but it was not all that painful.

She looked around her, then, and her eyes widened as she realized in what position they were arranged. She scrambled to sit up, which only made her head pound against her skull all the harder, and she coughed weakly. Placing the back of her hand to her mouth, she moved to stand, and Rhys held her elbow, rising with extreme ease himself. He reminded Crystin Anne of a cat.

Crystin Anne stumbling stood, wavering on her feet woozily. Her hand flew from her mouth to her head as her other palm pressed against his chest, though she was not sure if she was meaning for him to stay put or if she was attempting to push him away. He placed a wide hand, long fingers splayed out, on the small of her back, and they walked to the railing slowly, Crystin Anne continuously gulping down the salty sea air. Other than her wounded pride, she was better.

Rhys took her handkerchief, still twisted and threadbare in spots, and held it out in the whipping wind. The cloth whirled and twirled back and forth around Rhys's hand, and Crystin looked up at him questioningly.

"Here is to a new life," he announced before letting the handkerchief float away on the breeze. They watched as it got smaller the farther away it soared until it lost its grip on the air and plummeted down to land on the surface where it was soaked with water and sank beneath the murky ocean water. Crystin gulped, something flashing like lightning in her mind, but it was all too quick for her to tell what it was, though she swore she heard a scream.

Shaking her head, she ignored the thoughts, and she watched Rhys as Rhys continued watching the steadily disappearing handkerchief. Some forbidden look passed across his face, darkening his features. Clearly Crystin Anne was not the only one the sinking handkerchief gave worried thoughts to.

"What is wrong?" she asked, twisting around, involuntarily making it so that Rhys's hand fell to her waist from her back. She blushed crimson at the touch, though it was innocent enough. Rhys shook his head of the troublesome thoughts and smiled at Crystin Anne, his eyes dancing over her features and falling to the crook of her neck before he grimaced and met her eyes once more.

"What would you like to do tonight?" Rhys asked, changing the topic into a much lighter one. Crystin Anne shrugged and walked away from the railing and from Rhys. She made her way to the middle of the ship, to a thin, gold colored door that had a small circle window in it.

Peering inside, she saw the black and white patterned floor of the ballroom where several guests were dancing. The women were dressed in glittering dresses with jewelry draped over them. Some of them had fur shawls wrapped around their shoulders, but most were foregoing the shawls and bearing their arms in their slinky dresses.

Crystin Anne stared on enviously. Even from what little she could see, she knew she would give anything and everything to be one of those women in that room. Rhys snuck up behind her and touched her waist, looking into the room as well. Then, he spun her out and pulled her to the center of the deck.

Crystin Anne arched her eyebrows high on her forehead at him. "What are you doing?" she asked, laughing softly. Rhys beamed. He had gotten to her laugh, albeit it was very faint.

"Dance with me?" he asked, bowing low and offering his hand. She giggled wispily again and gave him her hand, which he placed on his shoulder. He took her right hand into his left and placed his right hand on her waist. He stepped forward, and Crystin Anne stared at her feet, stepping backward shakily. She had never danced before.

Rhys took his hand from her waist and tipped her jaw up. "Focus on me, love," he whispered in her ear, his breath fanning the short, curly hairs around her face.

She blushed again; she did that a lot. They danced in a small circle, swaying to the faint strains of music that made it through the closed door. They were pressed close together, neither aware of the world around them.

Chapter twelve: Sinking

Rhys and Crystin Anne continued to dance for a long time, Crystin Anne finally becoming mostly comfortable with the few steps and they were able to move in a square and turn without Crystin Anne stumbling too much.

Rhys pushed her waist and twirled her out, and Crystin Anne swore she felt like a princess. He tugged her back in, and she spun toward him, landing awkwardly against his chest, though he did not seem to mind in the slightest. Crystin grinned up at him, a wide smile that showed off the dimples she had kissing each corner of her mouth.

Biting her lip, Crystin Anne did not protest when Rhys placed her other hand on his shoulder while his hand fell to her waist, encircling her and pulling her closer. She was pressed snug against him, and she slid her hands up, wrapping them around Rhys's neck, her fingers landing in his thick, shaggy hair.

She swallowed when Rhys whispered her name, making her look up. He smiled softly down at her, cupping one cheek. His thumb skated over her lips, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his hand.

He leaned forward, tilting his head down. Crystin's breath hitched in her throat. Was he about to...?

"May I..." he began, his voice not above a whisper. Crystin Anne nodded, though she was not entirely sure what she was agreeing to.

"Yes, it is all right. I do not... mind..." she whispered breathily, trying to remember how to breathe.

Their lips touched, briefly at first, and Crystin Anne felt like a bolt of electricity passed between them. Rhys pulled away, and they both opened their eyes. Crystin Anne's eyes darted back and forth as she stared into Rhys's honey brown ones. Rhys's lips twitched into a soft smile, and Crystin Anne took out a breath of relief. She had been terrified he would not be happy and was going to leave her standing there alone.

His other hand moved to her right cheek, and he cupped her face gently, kissing her once more. Crystin Anne parted her lips, sighing into his mouth as their kiss grew deeper. This time, Crystin Anne parted from the kiss, staring up at Rhys expectantly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to suppress a laugh at Crystin Anne's wide, innocent eyes. Crystin flushed.

"I am trying to remember how to breathe," she confided, ducking her head into his shoulder embarrassedly. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back.

She looked up at him, and Rhys could tell that she needed to ask him something, but he suspected she rightly did not want to. He tilted his head toward her, waiting for her to speak.

"Did you... um... was it... okay?" Her face immediately flooded crimson, and Rhys could not help but laugh, which only made her look more mortified.

He leaned down, kissing her tenderly again. "If you are asking if I liked it," he whispered in her ear, "then I think it is safe to say I have never experienced a better moment in my life."

He was telling the truth, in his mortal or monstrous life, he had never felt happier. Crystin Anne's spirit soared, and Rhys heard the unmistakable quickened twittering of her heart beating in her chest all the faster. He swallowed. Temptations were evil things.

They both finally became aware of their surroundings just in time for another horn to sound out, loudly, hurting their ears. Crystin Anne covered her ears as they glanced around, looking for some reason for the horn.

Gasping, Crystin Anne pointed over Rhys's shoulder, making him turn around, just as another horn sounded, this one farther away. Neither had noticed the thick fog that had surrounded them, engulfing them. Peering over the railing, they could no longer see the water through the dense, wet fog.

But that did not stop Crystin Anne from seeing the huge lights of the oncoming ship. It was pointed straight for them! There was no possible way this second ship had time to turn around. Rhys threw himself in front of Crystin, and they fled backwards, pressed up against the outer wall of the ballroom. What was going on?

The Empress and the other ship continued blasting their earsplitting horns at one another, but the fog was so thick that had the other ship not been so close, even its light would not have made it through the night.

More passengers were rushing on deck from the ballroom and from the second level, everyone peering out over the railing to see what was going on. Crystin Anne and Rhys stayed far back watching with horror struck eyes as the black ship drew ever closer.

The Empress shook, sending vibrations up from their feet through every passenger on deck. Women screamed and ran from the site as the nose of the other ship plunged into the side of the Empress, striking her right in the middle. Crystin Anne clung to Rhys.

A thick man with a neatly trimmed white beard dressed all in white exited from a small room and ran to help the crew with the small wooden boats.

"Get everyone off the ship! Now! Get everyone off her!" he bellowed. "Tell Swank to open up second and third! Do it now! Hurry!" he continued to shout, sending crew running everywhere. Another man in uniform ran up to him.

"How long do we have?" the Captain asked the second man, whose mouth formed a thin line.

"The Norsdad is...

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YUS! AND THERE YOU HAVE IT. 50k words worth of Sinking! ENJOY!

WAAAH. I'VE GOT 3700 MORE WORDS TO GO. BUT THAT'S OKAY. I'LL FINISH THIS BITCH TOMORROW. ::wipes eyes:: I AM LE TIRED.

Word count? 46,293.

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Chapter ten: Deceitful Lies, post two

Trying not to get her dress dirty, Sadie Elizabeth managed to sit on the dewy ground, giving up all hope of her white stockings not developing grass stains. She tried to hide her chagrin, but Kai was apparently very astute and perceptive.

"Is there anything wrong?" he queried, cocking his eyebrow. Sadie Elizabeth plastered on a charming smile. She was raised with manners after all.

"Of course not. There is not a thing at all wrong," she answered, still grinning broadly. Kai returned the smile and set about rummaging through the wicker basket for food.

Sadie Elizabeth liked to think of herself as a lady, so naturally, she hardly ate a bite while Kai choked down food by the barrelful, acting as if he had not seen food in months. After awhile, he glanced up at Sadie Elizabeth, totally unabashed for his lack of control, and he pointed to her bit of food.

"Are you not going to eat?" he questioned, continuing to take big bites out of the chicken breast he was steadily devouring. Along with a loaf of bread and biscuits for dessert, Kai had eaten enough for an entire army. Sadie Elizabeth shook her head pushing her food away, even though it smelled almost as good as the food her cook, Madeline, conjured up at home.

Kai smirked. "You do not have to pretend with me, Sadie Elizabeth. I am hungry. You are hungry. We should both eat," he explained and shrugged. "I am," he concluded. Sadie Elizabeth laughed, a light, tinkling laugh that floated on the breeze.

"I can see that, sir," she retorted, stilling her giggle. Kai looked up from his full hands, stuffed with chicken and bread, and grinned. Suddenly, he dumped his food back in the basket and nimbly stood up, reaching for her. Instinct drew her backward, and she drew a hand up to slap him away, but she saw he was teasing, and she got up. Once she was standing, Kai gave chase, and they ran around the grassy grove, both laughing madly. Sadie Elizabeth's sunhat, tied with a big ribbon at her neck, fell backwards and flew after her like a wayward kite. Kai purposefully kept his gait slow enough for awhile so he would not catch her.

Time passed, and both Kai and Sadie Elizabeth grew weary. Instead of admitting defeat, however, Kai tackled Sadie Elizabeth, albeit gently, and they fell to the ground, him landing on top of her. An innocent blush flooded Sadie Elizabeth's cheeks as she realized their position, and she tried to get up, but Kai stayed above her, grinning down. Sadie Elizabeth petulantly frowned, jutting out her lower lip in a girlish pout.

Kai lowered his head, kissing the dimple just above the corner of her lips. Though Sadie Elizabeth always talked like she was experienced enough with men to not turn into a stammering nitwit over the notion of a kiss, she still felt her face heat up and presumed it was bright red, nearly as bright as her hair.

Kai's lips trailed closer, and they were soon kissing. He planted light, feathery kisses on her lips, and she returned them, both were smiling. Yes, he had to be a warlock, Sadie Elizabeth mentally declared, for no man had ever made her this dizzily giddy in such a short time, or, rather, at all.

The clearing of a throat caused both to look up in alarm. They had been lost in each other's eyes, no matter how terribly drippingly romantic it sounded. Kai smoothly hopped up, offering his hand to Sadie Elizabeth, which she took, dusting off her gown modestly and adjusting her sunbonnet correctly on her head once more.

The driver and footman of Sadie Elizabeth's coach were eyeing both Sadie Elizabeth and Kai suspiciously, though the footman, being around their age, mostly averted his gaze, his blush telling them he had much rather be elsewhere. Though, the driver was a wizened old man with wrinkles on his wrinkles. How he was still alive, Sadie Elizabeth did not even dare to fathom. He had been with their family long before she had been born, and he often felt like a second father.

"Your father would not want to hear about this," the driver croaked out, and Kai had to stifle back a chuckle, especially when he glanced at Sadie Elizabeth. She looked like a five-year-old schoolgirl who had just been caught stealing biscuits before supper. It did not help that the driver waggled his finger at her and limped forward, favoring his right leg.

Sadie Elizabeth hung her head, not daring to look at Kai once. The driver whirled her around and began walking her toward her coach without another word until he assumed he was safely out of earshot of Kai. Though, he did not realize that Kai was following them, his footsteps expertly making no noise on the forest floor.

Sadie Elizabeth, however, looked back and smiled shyly at Kai, silently asking him "Tomorrow?" Reading her lips, Kai nodded, and Sadie Elizabeth faced forward again, a happy, impish grin tickling her lips.

"He is beneath you," the driver began, shaking his head disapprovingly. "If Charles got word of this-"

"Please don't tell Papa, Simon," Sadie Elizabeth cooed, using a famous pout that worked on nearly any man she laid eyes on for more than a few moments. Simon narrowed his eyes, his bushy gray eyebrows nearly obstructing his vision.

“Fine, but you are not to see him again,” Simon thundered, glaring at Sadie Elizabeth. Though he was of no relation and only a driver serving the family, if Simon forbade Sadie Elizabeth to do something, her parents generally went along with it, despite Sadie Elizabeth’s protests. She kicked up her pouting several notches.

“But I like him, Simon. You don’t understand. He’s -”

Simon interrupted her. “Nice? Handsome? Intelligent? Is that what you are going to try and tell me, girl?” he drawled in his thick Irish accent. Sadie Elizabeth shook her head, though those descriptions had been forming on her tongue just moments before.

“No, he’s... he sees past my station, Simon. He sees past my riches,” she countered, knowing that argument would throw Simon off. It did, but only for a split second. Simon’s eyes widened, and he snorted.

“Oh, is that right, lass? Well, then, apparently, you see past his station as well. And you see past his money, too, do you not? Or, well, lack thereof.” Sadie Elizabeth whirled in front of Simon and poked her finger in her chest.

“We did nothing wrong, Simon, and if you don’t let me see him again, I’ll take the carriage and drive it myself,” she threatened, her baby blue eyes blazing.

Simon sighed, taking Sadie Elizabeth’s gloved hands in his own. “You would drive that carriage with hands as gentle and unaccustomed to work as these?” His voice lowered several octaves as Sadie Elizabeth morphed into the tiny child of seven as she had once been, bouncing on his knee during holidays. Sadie Elizabeth’s bottom lip stuck out further as she scrunched up her features. But, instead of rebutting, she begged.

“Please, Simon. Pretty please. I will be extra special good and you won’t have to tell Papa a thing. I promise,” she wheedled, and Simon finally relented, rolling his eyes as they made it to the carriage. He watched as the footman hoisted Sadie Elizabeth aboard and shut the door behind her before he climbed into his seat and took up the reins, slapping them across the horse’s back. Looking back, he saw Kai climb into the driver’s seat of his own carriage. Kai waved at him and smiled benevolently, and while Simon returned the gesture, he couldn’t help grumbling under his breath. He did not like this commoner.

That first day began the best months of Sadie Elizabeth’s life. She was happier than ever and finally she was growing up and seeing that not everyone was rich. The first time she went to Kai’s house, Kai tried to steer her away when he heard drunken shouts coming from inside, but Sadie Elizabeth insisted on going in. By the time they had argued about leaving or staying, though, Kai’s father had left and his mother was holed up in their bedroom.

She only ever met Kai’s siblings. Immediately she took a liking to Rhys, though he was not as muscular or outgoing as Kai. He read a lot, she noted, but he too had the rough and tumble appearance of a farmer’s son. Kai’s little sister, they called her Little Mary, was adorable. She was so young but much more mature than Sadie Elizabeth recalled being at her age.

Kai rarely let her come to his house, though. It was only when she begged to meet his parents, insisting it was only polite, that he relented, though his parents mysteriously were never around. She sometimes heard Kai’s mother humming to herself behind the closed door of the bedroom, but that was all she ever heard.

More often than not, they spent days exploring Sadie Elizabeth’s home. Though she had grown up there, Sadie Elizabeth loved Kai’s expressions whenever he would see a new room or examine something altogether different than what he was accustomed to, and even she found several new wonders right under her nose. But mostly it was how fast she was falling in love with Kai. Their relationship was simply amazing.

A year past, and she had not seen Kai in three whole days. It was unlike him to stay away that long, and it made her worry. She had taken to sitting by the door waiting for him to come call on her. It was pathetic and unbecoming, she knew, but she was far from caring.

A knock at the door made her jump up. The butler hurried forward to answer the caller, and Sadie Elizabeth’s brow furrowed in confusion when she saw that it was not Kai but Rhys at her door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously. Her mother came forward, breezing past her but pinching the underside of her arm and whispering how terribly rude she was.

“Please, come in,” she welcomed, and Rhys fiddled with the hat in his hands. He was clearly uncomfortable in such rich of settings. Or maybe it was what he needed to tell Sadie Elizabeth, because he would look at none but her. Poor boy was terribly shy she often thought.

Still fiddling with the hat in his long fingers, he stepped in, nodding to both ladies. “I need to speak with Sadie Elizabeth. Privately,” he added on, hoping he wasn’t being rude. Sadie Elizabeth’s mother looked slightly put off, but she nodded, gathering her skirts and leaving as abruptly as she came.

“What’s wrong, Rhys?” Sadie Elizabeth questioned, putting an arm on Rhys’s shoulder. Rhys stared down at her.

“I am afraid I have to tell you something horrible,” Rhys began, and Sadie Elizabeth felt her heart already beating her faster.

“What is wrong?” she repeated. Rhys took a sharp intake of breath.

“Kai is dead.”

Sadie Elizabeth’s head spun. She could not believe. She would not believe it. Kai could not be... it wasn’t possible!

Despite the fact that in her head she was fiercely denying it, she heard herself ask, “How?”

Rhys hung his head, still fiddling with his blasted hat. She wanted to jerk it from his hands. She needed answers, and he was not obliging. She felt tears well at her eyes. Kai just could not be... She could not even think the word.

The dreaded tears finally spilled over, pooling in the corners of her eyes and cascading down her cheeks. She yanked off her white lace glove violently and wiped at the tears, nearly slapping her face.

Rhys coughed, lowering his head to give her a moment. Sadie Elizabeth pressed her palms to her cheeks and sniffled. She did not care how unladylike she was being. Rhys had just told her Kai was dead. Even thinking the word sent more tears spilling from her glistening blue eyes.

“We have not... we have not found him... yet,” Rhys stammered, his voice low, a sob choking his throat. Sadie Elizabeth looked up, her features twisted in a saddened grimace. She whimpered, her lips twitching. She wanted to scream and felt like destroying everything surrounding her in the large room. Rhys shuffled his feet, and Sadie Elizabeth gripped the back of the chair in front of her for some sort of stability.

“What do you mean you have yet to find him?” she asked, realizing he had spoken long moments after he had. Rhys sat his hat down on an end table and massaged his temples. How could he go about saying this to someone like Sadie Elizabeth?

“There isn’t... erm... we have yet to find... his body,” he murmured, the blunt words cutting into his own heart like a cruelly dull blade. Sadie Elizabeth gasped, the breath turning into a sob as she doubled over the chair, completely falling apart inside.

“I can’t... I mustn’t...” She could not bring herself to talk anymore, so she finally looked at Rhys in a pleading manner, and he took his cue, bobbing his head and quickly exiting through the huge double doors, quietly closing them behind him.

Sadie Elizabeth watched him leave, waiting for the small click of the lock catching in the door before she let herself go. She sank to the floor, her skirts bunching up under her bum and she crumpled over, hunching her shoulders and sobbing into her hands.

Anger suddenly flooded through her. How could Kai do this to her? How could he leave her? It could not be possible! No one could be that cruel, not even Kai.

She continued to sob, feeling her heart split in two as her chest heaved with her wails. Finally, her mother entered the room.

“Has that wretched boy gone?” she questioned before noticing Sadie Elizabeth there on the checkered floor, her face red and her eyes puffy from crying. Despite proper conduct, her mother rushed down, hugging Sadie Elizabeth close and smoothing down her only daughter’s hair. Sadie Elizabeth clung to her mother as if she were the last good thing alive, and her mother sat there for a long while, rocking her gently back and forth like she had when Sadie Elizabeth was still five.

“Rhys says... Rhys says... he says that Kai is... he says that Kai is dead!” Sadie Elizabeth screeched, her sobs coming forth anew. Her mother continued to shush her and rock her, though she was too stiff. She did not care if Kai was alive or dead. After several long moments, Sadie Elizabeth’s mother finally broke the silence.

“Well,” she began, “At least now we can get some peace and will not have that common filth parading in our house like he knows the place. You can meet a nice doctor or lawyer and live in the life we raised you in instead of the shack you would have been in otherwise.” She pursed her lips, rolling her eyes at even the thought of Kai.

Immediately, Sadie Elizabeth shoved her mother away, her tears drying as she glared at her mother.

“What?” she asked in a shaky voice, glowering at her mother, her hands curling into tight fists.

“You know he was no good for you,” her mother answered levelly. “He was far beneath us all, but especially you. You need to find an upstanding gentlemen, not some farmer’s son who has no knowledge and no hopes of going anywhere in life. Do not be foolish, child. Other men will come along, and you will get over this Kai boy sooner than you think.”

Sadie Elizabeth jumped up. “No, I won’t!” she screamed, stamping off up the elegant stairway and down the impossibly long corridor until she reached her room. Flouncing down on her silk sheets, she gripped her feather stuffed pillow tightly to her chest and curled up into a tiny ball. Would she never stop crying?

Sadie Elizabeth’s mother watched her leave, not daring to follow her high-backed daughter. She sighed to herself, pushing herself up. She was getting too old for all of this. Sadie Elizabeth needed to simply settle down and forget about this romance that could never have happened, no matter what she thought her foolish heart was telling her. She shook her head. Naive, innocent lass.

Unbeknownst to all, the sky was growing dim, the sun slowly sinking over the rolling mountains, making way for the twinkling stars and bright moon to have their turn on the sky’s stage. Outside, staring in and watching Sadie cry and then hearing every hateful word her mother said, stood Kai, his face a tumultuous storm of rage.

He pressed his scowling face to the glass and watched as his Sadie flounced off, furiously wiping at her tears. No matter the fact that he would never go back to his old life, he knew that somewhere in his dormant heart, he would miss Sadie Elizabeth most of all.

Five years passed, and despite how much she had hated what her mother said, Sadie’s heart had healed. She could finally face new days and actually smile. Though, a part of her would always miss Kai.

But, she was twenty-three years old now. She had settled down, just as her mother had predicted. Donald was a lovely man, but he was nothing compared to the enigmatic soul of Kai.

A year after Kai’s death, Sadie Elizabeth had visited his home and found the rest of his family still there. Instead of one, there were two grave markers outside the house. It was a somber affair, being the markers were first scene before walking up the dirt path leading to the doorway.

The house itself held a sad air, and Sadie Elizabeth’s heart had sank upon entering it. She saw Rhys, though, and had to restrain herself from wrapping her arms around his neck. They had sat at the small wooden table and talked, reminiscing about Kai and about other things. It unnerved Sadie Elizabeth that where she once had heard humming coming from the bedroom door, she now heard the unmistakable sound of Rhys and Kai’s mother crying.

But, that was in the past. She was married to Donald, and he was a lawyer, a rich lawyer. They had moved to London, mostly so Sadie Elizabeth could escape her past in Ireland.

The air was chilling, and Sadie Elizabeth walked quickly down the deserted streets. Why she had waited so long to mail the required weekly letter to her mother was beyond her. She normally went in the middle of the day, but things continuously happened, and she was stuck sending out the short letter after dark.

She came upon a couple in a sensuous embrace in a corner between two tall buildings. They were mostly hidden in shadows, and the man’s back was to her. The woman’s head was lolled back, and her arms gripped his shoulders painfully. Sadie Elizabeth averted her gaze, her lashes grazing her cheeks demurely. Some people had such nerve to commit those acts of carnal lust right out in the open.

She heard something hit the ground, and she looked up just as the man whirled around. Her eyes widened as she involuntarily walked forward toward him.

“K... Kai?” she whispered, reaching out to him and touching his chest. Was this... was he really here? Could he really be here?

He grinned at her, and she nearly leapt into his arms. It really was him! Her precious Kai was alive! She had known it all along. He just could not have died. It was impossible.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sobbed into his shoulder. He patted her back, completely calm. She looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

“Hello, Sadie. It’s been awhile,” he greeted. She stepped back, examining him. He had changed. She could not decide if it was for the better or the worse, but he was most definitely not the same young man she had known and loved five years prior.

He held himself differently, and his dress was a far cry from that of a farmer’s son. Clad all in black, he nearly disappeared into the night if not for his pale skin. His deep brown eyes bore into her own blue ones as she continued to stare at him, devouring him with her eyes. She thought she would never see him again.

“Where have you been?” she asked, not being able to hide the hurt in her voice. “Why haven’t you tried to find me?”

Sadie Elizabeth nodded silently, ingesting his answer, when she suddenly remembered. “Were you not here with someone?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion and wonder. Kai smirked a little, his brown eyes flashing with some unidentifiable something that nearly scared Sadie.

She looked around before looking down. Just behind Kai lay the still body of the girl she had seen him with. She had long blonde hair that was strewn about her, some over her face and her bluish lips, but most pouring out behind her like rivulets of corn silk.

Her chest did not rise with breath, and her head was thrown back so that the moonlight spilled on the wound at her neck. Two puncture holes dug into her skin and sticky red blood ran down her neck and onto the cobbled street. Sadie Elizabeth frowned, her eyes widening in horror.

She looked from Kai to the corpse and back again several times in utter revulsion and confusion.

“What is this? What does this mean, Kai? Surely you didn’t.. .You did not do this, did you?” she hurriedly asked, gesticulating to the poor girl’s body. The only answer Kai gave was a solitary smirk as he leaned against the other building’s wall and crossed his arms.

“I’ve changed,” he finally spoke, his words holding all sorts of meanings. Sadie Elizabeth blinked rapidly as she tried to digest what he meant. Did he really... could he... had he killed this girl?

She spun on her heel, quickly running away, holding her skirt up in her hands so as not to trip. Not once did she look back, but she could hear Kai’s frighteningly cold laughter reverberate behind her, replaying in her head along with the picture of the girl laying so still on the ground.

Chapter eleven: Moonlit Dance

It was noon when Rhys awoke with a start. He sat up abruptly throwing his sheets of him. He had no need for sleep, but he still indulged. It was a better way of wiling away the hours than most of his kind chose.

His dream had been riddled with faces of people from the damned coven. He spat, gritting his teeth. He did not want to see their faces. He did not want to think of them! Lastly, what had woke Rhys up, was Kai’s voice right in the surface dregs of his mind.

“Time is running out, brother,” Kai reminded with a smug air. Rhys grimaced, clinching his jaw and getting up, pulling his shirt on. There were several hours of sun left, and he hated the blessed hat he had to wear to shade his face from the sun. It did not entirely work anyway, but it was uncomfortable and Rhys would much rather stay in his room all day than don that stupid thing once again.

Rhys paced his room, stretching out his cramped muscles. Finally, he exited, hoping to run into Crystin Anne. But, she was no where to be seen. He went to her door, pondering to knock, but he thought better of it. Her family did not know who he was, more likely than not, and the last thing he wanted to do was impose on anyone. He still had some modicum of protocol.

EEE! I'M SO CLOSE TO BEING DONE THAT IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY! WHOO!

Wrote 5k AGAIN today. Yus. I do, indeed, rock. ::bows dramatically::

Official word count? 42,067.
Words left 'til 50k? 7,933.

WOW. I CAN DO THIS. THIS IS AMAZING. YUS! WHOOOO!

Anyway. Here's story.

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Chapter nine: Blooming Girl, post two

"It is growing late," Crystin noted, not moving, her voice barely audible over the sloshing of the water against the sides of the magnificent ship. Rhys nodded to show he had heard, but he otherwise did not speak. "I should go." Again, Crystin calmly spoke, but she could not make herself leave.

Something about Rhys drew her to him, and she felt almost comfortable around him. Even though they had hardly spoken to each other for several hours, she just felt safe with him. It was a bit unnerving how secure she felt, but she pushed the worries away, hoping they would not lead to other thoughts, because the more she often thought of things, the more likely she was to have some sort of attack.

Rhys finally took the initiative, sighing to himself, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Crystin tensed at the touch - they hadn't touched at all during the long hours of sunset and early nightfall. Rhys kept his arm around her, his hand resting comfortably in the middle of her back. He hoped she would grow more comfortable.

Finally, she did, and she scooted closer, leaning her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. The wisps of hair that escaped her braid fluttered in the breeze, tickling her pale skin and giving her chills.

"I'll walk you to your room," Rhys spoke, glancing down at the crown of her head. She looked up at him, her smile barely visible, but it was there. Nodding once, she lifted her head from his shoulder, sighing to herself, and let him lead her down the two flights of stairs to the third deck. He never once took his arm from around her waist.

"Will you go up on the deck again tomorrow evening?" Rhys asked. His voice was husky, she realized, and wondered if he did that on purpose. She had not heard enough of his voice to determine if it was always like that. Lowering her eyes, she grinned and nodded enthusiastically, and for the first time she could remember, Rhys laughed.

They made it to her room, and she opened the door, fully intent on introducing her family to him, but by the time the door was open and she had gotten everyone's attention, Rhys was gone, not a single trace of the young man anywhere to be found. Crystin's brow wrinkled. He was strange, she knew. But, that was perfect, because she was probably stranger.

"Keep the cool air in, child, and close the door," Fianna ordered, though her voice was still weak from being sick. However, she had finally gotten to the point where she could comfortably sit up, though she always kept a cool rag at her throat or on her head, and her trusty bucket never left her side.

Crystin stepped inside and closed the door behind her with a soft click. Elsie looked up from her dolls and grinned at Crystin, who returned the smile. Crystin was sorry Elsie had to grow up like this, hiding with her family from a war that would be much greater than any of them imagined even in their wildest dreams.

Their room was one of the few on the third deck that had a small window in it, and it was currently open. The breezes were a welcome bliss from the stifling heat of the room the day before. Despite the month, four people in the small cubicle was not cause for much comfort.

Crystin stretched out on her half of the bed, tucking her arms under her head for added comfort. Unlike the night before, she was now exhausted, and the moment her eyes closed, she sank into unconsciousness, and just like that, the dreams began.

She was no longer herself in more ways than one. Unlike before when her appearance and body had been slightly foreign to her, decadent and rich unlike in reality, the eyes she looked through now in her subconscious did not belong to herself.

Looking down, she wore man's clothing. Everything about her was thicker and coarser. Her knuckles were scraped, and her palms were rough to the touch. The loose white shirt billowed in the wind until it reached the waist where it grew tighter thanks to the string pulled through the hidden inner seam. The brown breaches hugged her thighs, which were entirely too thick and muscular for a woman's thighs.

Crystin panicked in her dream, not knowing where she was. She stared at a house she had never seen before, but somehow she recognized it. It seemed familiar, as if she should know everything about it, every tiny sliver in the wall or hole in the ceiling.

Abruptly, the scene changed, as they often did in dreams, and Crystin found herself standing in the exact same spot, but instead of daylight, it was nightfall, late at night, perhaps after midnight. Looking down through narrowed eyes, she saw her apparel had changed. Everything was black and silk, velvet, or satin. The material was smooth as liquid and hugged her body from the top of her hat to the toes of her boots.

As she stared at the remains of the charred house before her, a feeling of smug pride enveloped her. She had done this. She had caused this. And she loved it.

Being alone, but knowing she would not have cared had someone walked by, she removed her hat and bowed down low, smirking to herself. As soon as she was upright, she turned and walked away from the acidic remains.

The scene changed once more.

Rhys was before her, on his knees, his wrists bound by a thick black cloth. Her shoulders felt lighter, less weighed down, so she assumed the cloth was the cape she had worn in the previous scenario. Nothing but malice and contempt filled her as she looked at Rhys, who would not meet her gaze. Instead, his eyes lay on the Bible that lie discarded in a puddle of oozing mud a few feet away.

He was already broken down, she could tell. Fresh bruises marred his milky pale skin. She had caused those marks to appear, and she relished the fact. This brother of hers was pathetic, an insult to their people.

Reaching around, she fisted two pieces of his tattered shirt in her hands and ripped, the cloth shredding quite easily, exposing Rhys's back. The took up her whip once more and drew her arm back, relishing in the feel of the crisp wind as her arm sliced through the air, the metal tip of the whip landing across Rhys's smooth flesh, cutting open a wound that began to bleed almost immediately.

She chuckled, low in her throat, and walked forward, tugging Rhys's head back so that he was forced to look up at her. A pain filled grimace painted his face, and Kai drew her bottom lip down in a mocking pout.

"Did that hurt, brother?" she asked, but the voice was not hers. Where her voice was feminine and shy, a meek whisper on most occasions, this voice was silky, rough like a black cat's tongue, and dripping with cruel humor. She enjoyed the change far too much, not noticing it in her dream. The voice came to her as natural as everything else did.

Rhys refused to answer, and she drew back, striking down with the whip again on a new slice of skin. Rhys grunted, his back arching involuntarily, but he still made no protests.

Again and again Crystin hit him in her dream, occasionally laughing to add to the torturous pain. Eventually, Rhys buckled, as she knew he would.

"Stop! Kai, God in heaven, stop!" Rhys pleaded with her. Crystin stopped, her whip falling short on purpose and wrapping around his neck like a gentle, yet lethal, pet snake. She sauntered forward and untied the cape from Rhys's wrists. He did not stand, but rubbed his wrists to return feeling to his hands. Curling and uncurling his fingers, he refused to meet her gaze even still.

Finally, Rhys's gaze jerked up from the ground just as Crystin took her whip and darted her tongue out to lick the bloodied metal tip. Rhys grimaced in disgust. She looked down at her younger brother, smirking.

Using her most pleasant voice, she cheerfully asked, "God? If there is a God, he has long forsaken you. The night you gave yourself to me --"

Rhys cut in, interrupting her, his red eyes flashing with unbidden fury. "I did not give myself to you!" he shouted loud enough to wake the dead.

In reality, Crystin woke up suddenly. Once again, she was soaked to the skin with her own sweat. She glanced around the darkened room. The rest of her family was sleeping soundly.

Already she was forgetting most of the confusing dream. Who had she been? What human could be that cruel to his own brother? She used the thin sheet covering both she and Elsie to wipe her brow, and she hugged her knees to her chest. While the dream itself was fuzzy, there was one thing she could not wipe from her memory.

Rhys's face as she last struck him with her whip -- not her whip, she insisted. He looked so beaten and broken and defeated. If her dream held any truth whatsoever, she wondered just what Rhys had done to deserve the treatment he had gotten from this mysterious stranger she had personified in the dream world.

What was Rhys not telling her?

Crystin did not get any more sleep at all that night, tossing and turning until the sun had finally risen. She was the first up opting to pace the third floor deck. She waited in line with all the other early risers to be served food, mostly bread and occasionally eggs. She oft wondered what the privileged passengers of higher status on board ate every morning. She pictured curried meats and muffins with butter and jam. It made her mouth water to think of it.

As she got her bread and picked at it on the way back to her room, she ran into the last person she wanted to see this early in the morning. Not only was her hair down and in a completely abhorred state, but she had yet to wash her face, and she still wore the dress she had forgotten to take off last night and had slept in. It was wrinkled and frumpy, sagging in places it should not sag.

But, appearance aside, she did not want to see Rhys because of her dream. It frustrated her that she could recall the dream being so real that it nearly felt as if she were there, but yet she could not remember anything from it other than Rhys's tortured expression. It was not fair, and it made her too curious for words.

However, Rhys's smile was warm and genuine as he hurried up to her. "Good day, lady," he greeted kindly, winking at her. Crystin smiled, nibbling on some more of her bread and trying to ignore the fact that she looked horrible.

"Did you just wake up?" he asked. His hat was pulled low over his eyes so she could barely make them out, but she saw the bluish skin surrounding his eyes. Had he not slept?

"Do I look that much a fright?" he questioned only half in jest. Rhys laughed, his laugh being the loudest thing in the corridor at that early an hour. Leaning against a wall, he gripped her wrist, forcing her to wait, and he tucked some stray hair behind her ear. Out of the braid, her long brown hair was full and thick, a monstrous site in her eyes that seemed to consume her entire head, but Rhys smiled gentlemanly.

"You've never looked lovelier," he responded. Crystin grinned, blushing a deep red.

"You're a kind man, Rhys," she began. "But you are a terrible liar." Again, Rhys laughed out loud, and Crystin felt herself joining in for the first time since she had met him. Though, she immediately stopped when people began staring at the odd pair, and she crossed her arms in front of her breasts, hunching her shoulders over and trying to be avoided by the scrutinizing eyes of the other passengers around her.

Rhys reached forward, tilting up her chin. She was so painfully shy. Rhys was sympathetic. He suffered nearly as much as she, but not even he could estimate the depths of her insecurities.

He watched as she avoided his gaze, the moment no longer light and laughing as he tried to probe her very thoughts, thought even for his kind it was impossible unless one practiced at it long enough. He was too new and unwilling to ever perfect the art. Crystin broke off another crumb from her loaf of bread and ate it, chewing slowly. He watched her mouth. She had very pretty lips.

She would taste wonderful, a voice spoke in his head. Though the voice resembled that of Kai's, something told Rhys that it was his own thoughts bullying him into thinking such disgusting things. Just then, Crystin tilted her head in contemplation, unwittingly exposing her bare neck to Rhys. He swallowed and cleared his thoughts, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't feel fangs piercing his lip at any moment.

"Will I see you later?" he asked, needing to leave now. Right now. Crystin bit her lip, shaking out her long strands of hair. She smiled and nodded.

"We are not allowed on deck," she reminded him carefully. Rhys shrugged nonchalantly.

"Twilight?" he questioned, and again Crystin nodded. He forced his lips to twist into a friendly grin, but he hurried to depart, only briefly touching Crystin's shoulder before he did so. He was growing more attune to her heartbeat, her blood rushing through her veins. She herself could not hear it, but he could, and it tempted him far too much. It was unbearable.

As soon as he got far enough away, his walk became a sprint as he made it to his room across the ship from Crystin's. He felt his fangs sprouting from his incisors and thanked God that Crystin had not seen him. For knowing her such a short time, she already meant something to him. That thought saddened him more than it should.

Crystin went back into her room, still picking at her bread, and she fingered her hair, her nimble fingers quickly moving to plait her hair in a style all too familiar to the milk chocolate locks. She changed dresses, once again stuck in a brown one, but she found a blue piece of cloth deep in the suitcase, and she tied it around her waist. It was a bright blue, and it gave her dress a little flair. Lord knows it needs it, Crystin thought to herself before settling down in her corner of the bed with a book.

Her family had awoke, and Elsie was drawing on a bad of paper they had brought with them. Her hand was still unsteady when gripping the pencils, and her letters often turned out wobbly and misshapen. Eventually, she grew frustrated and turned to Crystin, pulling her from the world of Raina, Jace, witches, gypsies, and romance she had fallen into.

"Wanna play Hangman?" she asked, holding out the paper. Crystin sighed, only mildly agitated at being torn away from the well read pages, and took the paper and pencil. Placing lead to paper, she drew out the platform and noose, leaving it empty.

She tapped the pencil to her cheek for several moments as she thought of a word. Finally, she made five dashes under the platform and held the paper out to Elsie. It was a simple word, but she only halfway wanted to play the game. When she was younger, she had preferred a game known as Eat Poop, You Cat, but it took too many people. She had most often played it with her many imaginary friends, but Elsie never had grew interested in it, so Crystin gave up pursuing that route.

For several minutes, Elsie stared at the dashes before guessing a letter S. Crystin shook her head smugly, over exaggerating her emotions to humor Elsie all the more. God knows this trip had to be hardest on her. She was always looking for new places to go and things to do or people to see. Being cramped in this small room with only dolls to play with and paper to draw on had to grow irksome.

Crystin grew thankful of the time she got to spend on the deck. She only wished she could go up during the sunlit hours. But there was no way on the Lord's green earth that she would pass for anything other than a commoner even in a rich, fancy dress. She stood no chance in the brown drab thing she wore currently.

Eventually, Elsie guessed some correct letters and got the word, which had been "apple." She was right pleased with herself, but that could not distract Crystin from her thoughts. She wondered what Rhys did during the daylight. Did he sleep? Was he here with a family? Or was he traveling on the ship to go back to his family? She blanched as she thought of the prospect that maybe he was already married and mayhap had a child.

She pictured a pretty young sprite of a girl with bouncing brown curls. Even with softened features, the imagined girl resembled Rhys. The image was so believable, that Crystin had a hard time convincing herself of otherwise. Though, she was sure that Rhys would have told her had he been otherwise attached. She hoped he wasn't. She hoped for that more than anything else in the world.

Once again on the twilight of the third day of the Empress's departure, Crystin slowly climbed up the stairs leading to the deck. There was hardly anyone above, walking out on the wooden deck. Most people were either eating, dancing, or sleeping.

She could not find Rhys anywhere. Where was he? Did he not want to meet her? She began to gnaw at her lower lip in confusion. Maybe she had been right. Maybe he was going home to a wife and children and -- what if he thought her a harlot? A cheap wench he could have a good time with while on board? She blushed furiously at the thought. She had never even kissed a man, much less...

She squeezed her eyes shut, facing the wide expanse of bluish green ocean. She could get lost in the waves. They were peaceful and serene unlike her mind, always jumbled up with worried, meddlesome thoughts. She ran a hand down her plait, a nervous habit, making sure every hair was still mostly in place.

She took a deep breath in. The air was salty and brisk, cutting into her lungs and waking her up more than anything else could possibly have. Suddenly, a hand touched her back, and she whipped around only to find Rhys. She wanted to hug him she was so grateful he had shown. No one had ever taken interest in her before. She was far too plain to be interesting. She had desperately hoped that Rhys would not give up on her, that he would hunt until he made her into something interesting that he could spend at least the days of the voyage putting up with. She liked being in his company too much for anything else of the contrary to happen.

She grinned up at him, and he returned the gesture. His hat was still pulled low, but she could have sworn his eyes flashed red. But red was not a common eye color. She had to be mistaken. She blinked rapidly, focusing.

"Did you have a nice day?" Rhys asked conversationally. Crystin shrugged, leaning against the railing.

"I played Hangman with Elsie," she confided. When Rhys looked confused, she elaborated. "My little sister. She's eight. She likes paper games," Crystin explained. Not knowing what else to talk about, the studied the ends of her shawl and licked her lips.

Rhys watched the movement; he watched all of her movements, every single one. She touched her hair often, he noticed. She had many nervous habits, like licking her lip or fiddling with her shawl. She fiddled with anything and everything. Though, he also took care to notice, she did not touch him unless it was in reciprocation.

He now realized the value of her leaning her head on his shoulder. Something such as that should not have made her nervous, but he knew it had. Her heart had increased double fold in its beats, her pulse sounding loud and true above the crash of water. Looking at her from under the brim of his cap, he wondered if she even took in that her heart sped up when she was around him. Despite himself, he felt slightly proud of that fact.

Chapter ten: Deceitful Lies

The staircase was the first visible object once opening the huge double French doors. They were mahogany wood, painted a light teal color, and they had speckled glass for windows. With gold plated handles, they themselves were a magnificent impression on guests.

The staircase, however, was grandeur in the highest. Being one of the very few frankly rich families in that part of Ireland that was in no way royalty, Sadie Montgomery felt a smug sense of satisfactory pride every time she walked through the double doors and up the staircase. The stairs were covered with a red rug, thick and soft. The steps were wide and slightly curved towards the end to give the room a round effect. The room itself held a checkered black and white patterned floor and could be used as a grand ballroom or a cozy living area. It was versatile and chic, and Sadie loved it.

Her dresses were top notch, cinched at the waist and low in the neckline with skirts that curved outward at her hips and lead down in a wide circle. Her dresses commanded attention, and anytime she walked down streets, that is exactly what she got.

Sadie Montgomery was brought up in a life of pure luxury. Everything was handed to her on a silver platter and she got whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. She often thought she was better than most, but she could not help those thoughts. They were just engrained into her mind. So she told herself, at the very least.

Clasping her coin purse shut, she exited her three story house, walking across the wide front patio, and ran her gloved hand over the white pillars lined up like soldiers in front of the house before jumping down the steps and into the decadent carriage.

A footman closed the door behind her once she had settled, and then the driver twitched the reins and the carriage took off to the town where Sadie would spend her day browsing window displays and occasionally buying herself whatever particularly caught her eye.

She first saw the young man, maybe a year older than herself, when she stepped out of the carriage. Smooth as silk before the footman could approach, the strange man walked up and offered his hand. Sadie gladly accepted, gripping onto the strong hand and stepping down to look the helpful lad up and down properly.

He was dressed as a farmer, and he apparently did not have much money. Though he carried a small purse, he had no purchases on him, and Sadie felt some pity but mostly her respect for the young man went down several notches. She had no time for the poor, and that was most likely why he had rushed up to talk to her.

He was handsome. He had black hair that had obviously been attacked at for awhile to stay slicked back, but the strands had won, spilling out around his face in choppy locks. His smile seemed genuine when he bestowed one on her, and despite what he was dressed, he had charm, charm enough to woo even Sadie's high standards.

"Thank you, sir," she greeted, grabbing up some of her skirt to curtsey properly. The lad bowed before her in return, still grinning broadly. He moved out of the way for her to pass, but he did not stay behind. He followed.

"And you are?" he asked as if they had been having a regular conversation. Sadie's smile tightened.

"Sadie Montgomery. Have you heard of my father?" Her father was a renowned lawyer, defending famous men, and some women, along with run of the mill clients. But that was how he made his money, disputing the legalities of situation. None of it terribly interested Sadie, but she did not care if it interested her or not. She was only seventeen. She had awhile to wait until something had to interest her.

Kai nodded in answer to her question before sticking his bare hand out in front of her. His eyes flashed a challenge. While his hand was clean, Sadie could visibly see the tough, worked skin and there was stray dirt under his nails. These gloves were brand new and silk, imported from some far away place that she did not care to think about either.

"My name's Kai, milady," he charmed, waiting for Sadie to accept his hand. She did, albeit hesitantly, and Kai smiled again. "Where are you off to?" he questioned, trailing beside her with his hands clasped behind his back.

The more they talked, the more Sadie studied him. He was tan, his skin browned by presumable hours in the sun doing labor, possibly with his father and the only brother he talked about, the only one she knew of. He liked to talk, he did. But that was fine, too, because Sadie could hold her own, especially when she was able to talk about herself.

Before she knew it, she was agreeing that he should come by her house sometime and take her out for a carriage ride. Though the idea was terribly juvenile and outdated, it seemed that a carriage ride would thrill her like nothing else could. Even though usually she dated lads of a higher status and they would take her to see one of the rare picture shows. Black and white silent romances, the type of thing that Sadie enjoyed to no end.

He agreed to bring the food and they would ride to an unbothered grove and have a picnic. The whole idea was quite novel, and Sadie did not know why she was agreeing to it. But Kai was likeable. The longer he hesitated to leave after securing a second meeting, the less she wanted him to go. She liked his company. When finally he departed, she impatiently waited for the next day to come just to see him once more.

The sun rose again, and Sadie was awake instantly. Her handmaids prepared her water and washed her hair, curling it and pinning it up in a popular fashion. She was tugged into a corset that made her breasts stand out and her waist suck in to where she nearly couldn't breathe. She stepped into a full dress, though it was made of light material, normally suited for outings such as these.

Kai was waiting at the meeting spot with his own carriage. His attire was similar to what it had been, though the clothing looked cleaner and pressed. Even Sadie was impressed that he had went through some pains to make a good impression on her.

His carriage was nowhere near as detailed or, frankly, perfect as her own, but unlike hers it held a certain character. She entertained the contemplation, much to her amusement, that Kai was a secret warlock and had put a spell on her. Never before would anything so quaint and lower class affected her so, but she truly liked everything about Kai from his rickety carriage to his homespun clothing.

He grasped her hand when they reached the grove and lead her through a sparse covering of trees over soft, slightly damp grass, and didn't let go of her hand until they reached a red and white checkered cloth spread out on the ground. Kai kneeled, and Sadie followed his example. She scrunched her nose. Did she really have to sit on the ground?

Trying not to get her dress dirty...

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Feedback is niiiice!

WHOO! Today was a productive day! 5k words written, baby! Heck yes!

Official word count? 37,057.

This is continued straight from the last post.

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Chapter eight: Loving Brother, post two

"Who are you after? You just got here," Jackson inquired innocently enough. Kai shrugged, not sitting his bag down. He did not have time to chat.

"I've got demons to chase down," he answered somewhat cryptically and mostly in jest. Jackson snorted and touched Kai's shoulder.

"Do you need help?" he offered, loyal to the re-death. Kai smirked to himself. It was always a comforting notion, nearly everyone he had ever turned was immensely loyal to him, finding their way to the coven as if it were a calling and doing his every bidding, offering to serve him hand and foot. Though, seeing as he was hardly there, their so-called job was quite easier than most.

Kai had formed the coven after turning his first, Victoria, a thin and attractive woman in her early thirties. They had found the dilapidated building and claimed it as their own, both slowly adding to it. Unfortunately, Victoria made the mistake of turning a hunter, not knowing his origin. Though the loving, life-taking demon resided in his bones, the hunter still retained resentment to his, now, own kind. He pierced a wooden stake straight through Victoria's unbeating heart.

Of course, he then put the same stake through his own heart, choosing to turn to dust than truly embrace what he was, a creature of the night, a god of darkness, immortal. No one in the coven missed him, but Kai did miss Victoria.

Occasionally, Kai's own sire, Cullen, would stop by. Instead of forming his own coven, Cullen was a nomad. He wandered from place to place, continent to continent, and killed or turned as he saw fit. He was the god of their kind. He was the first. Everyone was enthralled by him.

Pulling himself from his thought processes, Kai focused in on Jackson, who stood patiently waiting for an answer. He raised his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly, though he had the virtue of patience and would wait on his sire forever if that was what it took. Kai smiled but shook his head.

"No, this is a solo affair. I'm hunting down someone peculiar to our kind." With that, Kai shouldered past Jackson and shrugged his shoulder, repositioning his bag on it. Without a backward glance, he strolled down the hallway at a leisurely pace. Jackson watched him go before running to catch up.

Just as Kai reached the exiting doorway, Jackson came up behind him. "Who?" he questioned, curiosity getting the best of him. Kai turned around, his smirk sinisterly evil.

"My brother." He left, giving Samantha one last lingering, passionate kiss, and then disappeared into the alleyway's mysterious night.

Rhys slumped down against the rough cement wall of the factory. He'd gone far from home, farther than he'd ever been as a mortal, and had ended in London. It had been a month since the slaughter of his family. He still couldn't shake the images from his mind of his little sister and his parents lying dead on the floor.

He was constantly hungry, and his skin was still slightly blistered from when he had first discovered that sunlight was now a murdering foe to him. He now skulked about alleyways and kept away from people period. After two weeks of the hunger driving him insane, he'd managed to catch a fat rat from the garbage pails and had drained the creature dry.

The blood tasted bitter, and Rhys wanted to spit it out, but it sated the bloodlust, and that was all that mattered.

Before then, he'd gone back to his home, discovering the charred frame and the remaining ashes that had not been carried away by the wind. Stepping around the remains, he dusted off the Bible his father had passed down to him on a fit of sobriety not a full month before Kai had came and ruined everything.

Thinking of Kai hurt Rhys to do. He tried to avoid the painful reoccurring imagery of his only brother coming in and killing everyone, including Rhys. For, Rhys, despite all efforts of solitude, had been approached by another of his kind, this disgusting breed of the dead that fed on another's life. She had informed him of the lore and the truth and taken pity on him for a day or so, trying to convince him to eat, but he refused.

The creature of the night had eventually went off, sashaying in her Victorian-style dress and leaving him to his own affairs. Rhys tried to forget it all. He clung to his Bible and attempted to ignore the bitter taste of rat's blood that seemed to always linger in his mouth whenever he brought himself to feed on the beady eyed creatures.

His knees were drawn up, his arms clasped around them. He sighed, throwing back his head and hitting it on the hard cement, though he didn't feel the pain. He was constantly perfecting himself to not feel a thing, though it seemed practically impossible. Out of the entire family, but mostly between himself and Kai, he had always been the emphatic one. He felt everything deeply, and now he was finding it difficult to completely eradicate that trait from himself.

He ran a dirty hand over his face. When had he last bathed? There was an old woman who always put a bucket of water by her doorstep. Presumably it was the water used that day to wash the dirty linens, and occasionally Rhys used it to rinse himself off. He wanted desperately to be like he had been, reading literature and writing prose, being with his family and watching the young women in their wide skirts.

"Hey, get out of here!" a wide older man shouted at him suddenly, jarring him awake to full consciousness. Rhys warily stood, his motions staggered and sluggish. How long had he been crouched in that position.

The man was briskly coming toward him, his belly shaking behind a white apron splattered with blood. Rhys recognized him as the butcher, and the whiff of the blood from his apron nearly sent Rhys to a sumptuous heaven. He gripped the wall behind him with one hand and his Bible in the other for dear life to keep from lunging at the man. But he was so hungry.

"Did you not hear me? Go on! Get out! I don't want filth like you around my shop!" he shouted, shaking his hand at Rhys like he was a filthy stray dog. Rhys felt himself growing angry, and before he could stop himself, he lunged forward, tackling the older man.

He felt his fangs grow, shooting over his lower lip. He growled at the man beneath him, who was fighting tooth and nail to get away from Rhys. Something stirred in Rhys, then, and he shook his head. What was he doing?

Already the anger was abating in him, and he scrambled to climb off the man. He stood up and ran off, not looking back as the man cursed him to hell. It was no use to respond. He was already in a living hell.

Kai took his time searching for his brother. He knew Rhys would be drawn to him eventually, so he stayed in England, waiting, watching. He would find his brother and force him to enjoy being what they were. They were superior, after all. His sensitive ears picked up a faint heartbeat. Though far away, Kai could tell it was strong and probably young.

His gait turned into a jog as he searched for the individual. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he had plenty of time to squander away as he pleased. Rounding a corner, he saw her. She was blonde, and he liked that. He was always drawn to blondes. They held themselves differently so it seemed, much more confident and slightly cocky.

He advanced, keeping to the shadows momentarily. He paused, looking around. Her brow wrinkled, and she pouted for a moment before walking off to her prior destination, occasionally shooting glances over her shoulder. Kai followed her at a distance for several moments. He enjoyed a good chase.

He grew closer, but he knew how to keep out of the young lady's eyesight. She was innocent. Untouched. He could smell it in her blood. She was also rich, though he didn't have to smell anything to determine that. Her apparel spoke volumes.

She was pale, as it was fashioned to be. And her blonde ringlets fell down her back instead of pinned up in dainty coifs like most women's. She smelled intoxicating. Not just her blood, but the particular perfumed aroma that floated in the breeze behind her possessed a dizzying effect as well.

Kai pursued, and the girl continued glancing more fervently behind her. He steps quickened, her heels sharply clicking on the cobbled streets. She clutched her handbag closer for fear of pickpockets and hunched her shoulders, no longer walking erect and confident as she had been. Kai chuckled darkly, letting his voice be carried over the night air, and the girl paused, turning around slowly.

She gasped in shock when she saw Kai, but he made sure to appear perfectly at ease. He walked up to her and nodded, bowing like a perfect gentleman.

Replacing his top hat and standing upright once more, he smiled down at the shy little girl. She could be no more than sixteen or seventeen, but that was exquisitely fine with Kai.

"Hello, Madame," he whispered, his voice sultry, and his eyes full of hypnotic fashion. The girl swallowed, stuttering slightly in her greeting back. Kai chuckled again. "What's your name, lady?" he questioned.

"Gloria," she answered, clearing her throat, her voice becoming slightly clearer. She dared to smile back, and Kai wondered why humans were just so entirely naive. He touched her cheek, which caused her to blush. She really was an innocent.

He lowered his hand only to remove his black leather glove before touching her face once more. He glided his thumb over her lips. He leaned down, his breath feathering over her skin and making her blonde curls dance. "You're intoxicatingly beautiful," he whispered poetically, and Gloria laughed nervously, ducking her head in embarrassment.

Kai tugged her chin up, clucking his tongue in mock disapproval. "Now, now. There's no need to be embarrassed by me. I am just a man remarking on your exquisite attractiveness," he continued purring. Gloria licked her lips, sighing, and looked up at him. He lowered his head, chastely kissing her lips before trailing his mouth down her jawbone and to the sensitive spot of her neck.

Sighing again, Gloria tilted her head back, giving Kai the best access, and she had no idea what she was doing. Stupid girl. Before she could react, Kai stabbed his fangs through her skin and drank from her for long moments. She screamed, but her cries went unheard. He knew the pain shooting through her system was immense, but it would be over soon, and she tasted good -- better than she smelled. It was all too nice.

Eventually, her fist uncurled and she stopped pounding against his chest. She grew limp, her arms hanging at her side. She would have fallen if not for the fierce grip Kai had around her waist and at her neck. He finished up, his fangs melting into regular teeth once more.

Considering himself the epitome of gentlemanly, Kai scooped up the dead girl's body in his arms and carried her to a secluded corner, laying her down in the safety of the shadows. She wouldn't be found until morning, and by then, he would be long gone.

Wiping his mouth with his white handkerchief, he sneered as he sauntered off, his cane hanging from the crook of his arm. He whistled, the tune a simplistic, cheerful warble that spoke nothing of the volumes of cruelty Kai had just committed. After all, it wasn't his fault the girl was so desperately naive.

Though he didn't want to, Rhys couldn't stop thinking of Kai. His brother consumed Rhys's every waking thought, and the horrors in which his brother committed right in front of him replayed in his mind whether he was awake or asleep.

He roamed the streets of London, dodging the sun and finding shady crevices to sleep in until nightfall where he would sate himself with rats. On the outskirts of the bustling town, he finally happened on a farmer's field. He wandered up the winding dirt road, shielded from the sun with brambly branches overhead.

While the farmer's house lay dead ahead, he avoided it, instead opting for what resembled a barn. He heard the squawks and other various noises of farm animals, and his mouth watered. The shelter of trees stopped, and Rhys threw his arms over his face as he pelted for the barn, throwing the wooden door open and running inside, slamming the door closed behind him.

He gave himself a moment to cool off, seeing steam rising from his skin. Most of him remained undamaged; just a few fingers were caught on the harmful rays. He took in some deep breaths, though he tried to convince himself it wasn't needed, that his body no longer needed the life-giving oxygen. He closed his eyes for a moment, but soon the smell of blood fully awakened him.

Two fat cows stood side by side, both ignoring Rhys completely. He walked up, patting the closer one affectionately before quickly growing his fangs and sinking them into the tough, fleshy side of the cow. She huffed indignantly, but it couldn't hurt her a fair much. She was tough. Rhys told himself that.

Besides, had he not enjoyed every single one of his mother's beef stews? But that was before... He ripped himself away, falling and scrambling backward, staring in horror at what he was doing. Animal or not, he shouldn't be alive. He finally broke down, then, salty tears skating down his cheeks.

he kicked at the hay-strewn ground along with a crudely-shaped wooden stool before drawing his knees to his chest. He pressed his back to the wall and didn't flinch when the door opened. Though he jumped up when he heard a too familiar voice.

"I thought I'd find you in this area, brother," Kai tauntingly spoke. Rhys jerkily wiped his eyes, clenching his jaw.

"How did you find me, Kai?" he muttered darkly. Kai snickered.

"You're not hard to track, brother, and besides - a sire is always drawn to its fledglings and vice versa. You mean you haven't wanted to come to me, Rhys? I'm hurt," Kai mock-pouted. Rhys spat on the ground at Kai's feet.

"You destroyed my life. I want nothing to do with you," Rhys growled low in his throat before abandoning Kai and exiting the farmer's quaint barn, but he screamed when the sunlight he had completely forgotten about touched his skin, scalding it.

Running back into the sanctity of the barn, he faced Kai, humiliation darkening his features. Kai was still smirking, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, and one leg casually crossed in front of the other. He leaned his shoulder against the sturdy walls.

"You hurt? Poor thing," Kai continued mockingly. Rhys glowered at his older brother, his sire.

"Shut your mouth, Kai. I don't want anything to do with you. You killed our entire family, and you stole my very soul, condemning me to this cursed version of life. You have ruined everything, and you are not my brother. You're nothing," Rhys threatened, his hunger-reddened eyes piercing Kai's dark brown ones.

"How will you survive without me, brother?" Kai purred, not offended by Rhys's supposedly cruel words.

"I've made it this far," Rhys answered. Kai arched his eyebrows high on his smooth forehead.

"Have you? Look at you. Your skin is smoking from the sun you so stupidly walked out in. Your eyes are blood red. You're starving yourself, and you stink, frankly put. Your clothes are in rags, and your hair is a mess. When we were still mortal, you may have been an utter recluse, but you managed yourself better then than you do now. You're pathetic, and you need me. You know you need me. I know how to survive. I know how to live well. I have an entire house full of our kind who are absolutely loyal to me, and only me," Kai boasted. Rhys scoffed.

"Those devoted subjects were humans that you killed," Rhys reminded. The look Kai sent his brother sent chills down Rhys's back. Kai leveled his gaze, his features growing darker.

"And?"

Rhys had no answer to that whatsoever. Kai shook his head again, his sleek hair not coming out of place with the movement. Rhys was weary. He could hardly stand. Without another word, Kai walked forward and punched Rhys in the side of his head, just at the temple. It could not kill Rhys, but it would be effective enough for Kai to bring him back to the coven in one piece.

Not that he cared.

But he so loved that even his own brother was yet another conquest.

By the time Rhys came to, night had fallen, and he was sitting outside a shabby looking building. He glanced around, noticing a faint movement across the alleyway from where he was perched against the hard stone of the building behind him.

"I thought you would take an eternity to wake up," Kai drawled, rolling his eyes. He almost reminded Rhys of the older brother he knew, but this thing before him was much different. When they had both been human, Kai had been indifferent at times and never the most brotherly, but now he lived to kill. He lived to destroy lives. Nothing was worse than that.

Rhys's throat was dry, and he swallowed fruitlessly before speaking. His lips were cracked, but he jumped when Kai threw a bucket of shivering cold water on him. Sputtering, he pushed himself up a little straighter, when he heard someone else along with Kai.

"Who's this one? A new addition to your play house?" a girl's voice cooed. Rhys struggled to open his eyes more and to focus. The girl had short black hair, quite uncommon for the day. It looked crudely cut, like someone very inexperienced laid their hands on her raven locks. Her bright blue eyes sparkled, and she wore her fangs as if they were second nature.

Kai embraced her, touching her in areas inappropriate for public, and Rhys closed his eyes once more, swallowing back his disgust. Kai kissed her, prolonging the embrace longer than he should have. He was making a show of it for Rhys's sake, but the girl didn't seem to mind. She whimpered into Kai's mouth and drew her leg up, wrapping it around Kai's leg.

Finally the two lovers parted, and Kai turned his attention to his brother once more, dismissing the girl with a look that held promises for later before assuming his usual pose of crossed arms over broad chest.

Reaching down, Kai grabbed a handful of Rhys's tatty shirt and spun them both around quite effortlessly to face the doorway. "This is my coven," Kai introduced, boasting in his conceit. Rhys stared at the falling down building.

"Impressive," he remarked sarcastically, not daring to look at his former brother. Kai wrapped an arm around Rhys's shoulder.

"Your humor never fails to amuse me, brother," he retorted before dragging Rhys inside.

Rhys's stay at the coven grew more and more less welcome. Kai had amassed a small following of thirty or so of their kind, mostly wenches, but also a few lads who were picked either for their wit or their size, or sometimes both. None of them liked Rhys.

Rhys's room was down the same hallway Kai's was, right across from his older brother's room in fact. Though he hated that fact. Kai was never quiet about which of the immortal harlots he was entertaining on the rare nights he visited, and Rhys would have to suffer the sounds of lust as he tried to fitfully sleep or read from his Bible.

He still had yet to feed on a human. He would sneak out just before the sun set and when most everyone was still asleep. Then he would walk the roads until reaching the farmer's house where he'd first fed from the animals. He continued to feed there, never drinking enough to kill the animals but just enough to sate his hunger so that he wasn't constantly starving. Though, he was never full. He would never be full, and he knew it.

He would wait until just before the sun rose before heading back to the coven. If he passed another when walking back through the familiar doorway, they would often glower at him or even hiss, baring their fangs. After awhile, the silent threats became nothing more than a small nuisance that Rhys would ignore and bury himself in his books.

Kai, when he made his grand appearances, would be overflowed with complaints from his other fledglings about his only brother. They didn't like that Rhys wouldn't feed. It wasn't normal, and he thought he was so much better than them. And he never associated himself with them. He didn't belong. He was an outsider.

But that was why Kai kept him there. Because he was an outsider and because he just didn't fit into the equation in the slightest. It tortured Rhys, and Kai knew that. He thrilled in the fact that until Rhys broke down and fed, he would suffer from the very place he called home. Kai loved that fact.




Chapter nine: Blooming Girl

It was twilight. Crystin had waited in the claustrophobic room all day occasionally playing pretend with Elsie but mostly tucking away in the corner of the bed with one of her beloved books. The day had passed agonizingly slow, and she was glad she finally was able to sneak on deck. There were hardly any passengers out now, most in the decadent dining and ball rooms dancing to a live band or being served excellent food.

Not that Crystin was jealous in the slightest. She held her head high and wrapped her threadbare shawl tighter around her shoulders. She'd worn the most colorful dress she owned, a lighter blue with a green cloth belt tied at her waist. It almost looked like a Gypsy's garment with the belt, and Crystin liked that most of all. After finishing her book about gypsies, she was enthralled with their culture.

She hugged herself. There was a strong wind tonight. Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she whipped around, cocking her head to the side and resting it on her shoulder.

"You," she stated, her face betraying none of her emotion. Rhys's eyes lit up as he stepped forward, bridging the gap of safe space between them. Crystin couldn't help herself. She stepped backward, lowering her gaze and blushing. Why did men always have this effect on her?

Maybe there was something wrong with her mind. Her features wrinkled in worry. Maybe she was really crazy. She often pondered the notion. She put her hand over her mouth, tapping her chin nervously, unaware of Rhys until he tugged her hand down. His touch made her jump, and she pulled back even more before closing her eyes, inhaling deeply, and forcing herself to stay put despite what she was thinking.

"Good day," she greeted, bobbing down in a quick, albeit sloppy, curtsey. Rhys halfway bowed, removing his hat, but quickly putting it back over his choppy brown locks. He looked at the setting sun and shifted so that his form resided more in the shadows.

"Are you all right?" Crystin asked, not entirely sure why she cared. He was handsome -- very handsome. But for no other reason could she possibly care. She didn't know him. It was preposterous. But when he grinned at her, she felt her heart race. He had a nice smile.

Rhys swallowed, trying to keep the grin plastered onto his face. He heard Crystin's heart speed up, and the steady hum of her pulse was like someone calling him home for a grand feast. It disgusted him, but he was always so hungry, even more so around Crystin. He ignored it, focusing instead on the girl in front of him. The girl, the human girl, not the dainty meal.

Crys licked her lips, once more pulling her shawl closer around him. Rhys watched her. The sun had finally set, and they had moved to the railing, leaning against it, their backs to the ocean. They stood in contemplative silence. Occasionally, Crystin would look down, playing with the frayed ends of her shawl or smoothing her dress down. She bit her bottom lip often, and Rhys wondered why he made her so nervous. God knows he should be the last person able to intimidate anyone.

Again, I forgot to post yesterday, so whatever. Yesterday was general crap, by the way. I didn't even write a full thousand words. That's just sad.

Word count? 32,038.

Yeeeaaaaah.

Well, I've got four days to go. I can do it.

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Chapter eight: Loving Brother

Kai had let Rhys walk away that night. He knew his brother needed to feed, but he also knew that Rhys probably would do no such thing. He would hold off as long as possible before he killed another living creature for his own needs. Rolling his eyes, Kai had left his childhood home, strewn with the bodies of his family, and disappeared into the night.

Through the dense cover of trees, the moon lay hidden along with the unseen stars. The only light to shine was the bright orange flame from the torch Kai lit. Without looking back, he casually tossed the torch over his left shoulder. It landed in the doorway, the flames licking at the frame and rapidly spreading along the wall, inside and out.

Within minutes, the entire house was on flames, crackling and sending gray spirals of smoke into the night air, but by then, Kai was long gone.

Returning to his coven in London, Kai paused in the doorway to wrap an arm around Samantha, one of the first girls Kai turned. She snuggled closer to him, laughing softly in his ear, and wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching up on her tiptoes to hungrily kiss him. He returned the kiss for a long moment before untangling himself from the forever young wench.

Samantha playfully pouted but stepped back, and Kai walked on, going up two flights of rickety stairs and down a hall carpeted with threadbare rugs until he reached the largest room at the end of hall. Turning to his right, he entered the room. It was the only decadently designed room in the dilapidated building where he and his coven resided. Well, he rarely visited the place, mayhap once a month, nothing more.

A large bed was entirely clad in velvety black sheets, perfectly draped without a pucker of cloth visible anywhere. Two down pillows resided by the headboard, which was a deep mahogany wood. The rest of Kai's room was painted black, the windows boarded up and painted black as well to ward from the sun. Kai dug up a leather satchel from the hardwood floor, and began dumping necessary items into it, clothing and grooming devices. He also carried with him a small container of holy water he'd obtained while visiting in Greece and tasting some monks that lived there.

Smirking to himself at the brutally pleasurable memory, he snapped the satchel closed, holy water resting right on top of the stack of contents so as to be quickly reached incase a certain brother of his needed persuasion. Without glancing at his comfortable room again, he pivoted around and exited, coolly sauntering down the hall, occasionally stopping to personally greet some of the lovely wenches he'd sired and invited to his humble abode.

He was stopped by another of their kind, a young man named Jackson. Kai had turned him upon seeing him. He would be a good ally, strong, handsome, persuasive, and he had no qualms about being what he was. He embraced it just as Kai had done.

Jackson stepped out of the shadows and placed his palm on Kai's chest, halting him. Kai quirked an eyebrow and hoped Jackson had something interesting to say. He had plans.

I'm calling this day twenty-five 'cause I wrote this yesterday (well, most of this), but I forgot to post it. So there.

Word count? 31,492.

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Chapter seven: Endless Possibilities

The clouds rolled over the blue sky, gray and heavy with the approaching unshed storm. The bright green grass underneath Raina tickled her bare skin from the scruff of her neck to her calves. She stretched out her arms, thanking the goddess for a wonderful day. The small knoll outside her modest hut was often visited on days like this.

Stretching out her arms, Raina arched her back, taking a deep breath in. Her chestnut brown curls were spilled out away from her, looking like chocolate flames falling from her scalp. She sighed, relaxing every bit of her body as she slowly counted each raindrop as it fell and landed on her body.

Soon, the rain became impossible to count, and Raina closed her eyes, relishing the downpour as it accosted her tanned skin, soaking her to the very bone. How she loved it.

Faintly, she could hear her mum calling her from their small hut and she regrettably stood up, dusting damp grass from her skin as she picked up her dress and slid it over her head, tucking it down appropriately.

She gazed once more at the sky, greeting every drop that fell on her face. Extending her arms, she twirled in a circle before rushing up the knoll and into her home.

“You’re soaking wet again, Raina,” her mother scolded. Though she could see the humored look in her mother’s eyes and knew the scolding wasn’t serious. Raina smiled benevolently at her mother, mischief dancing across her features and shining in her deep brown eyes. She squeezed rain from her tresses and went off to her tiny room to sprawl on her bed.

A carriage rolling by caught her attention, and just as she laid down, she hopped back up and flew to the window. A gypsy caravan was slowly making its way past her hut, and it slowed as a young boy around Raina’s age jumped down from the still-moving wagon. Raina ran out, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again!” she exclaimed, impulsively kissing his cheek. Jace smiled sheepishly, his hands at her waist. He pulled her close once more before pushing her out to appraise her. She blushed under his gaze, dropping her head demurely.

“Have you been appeasing the goddess?” Jace teasingly asked. He never understood her choice of devotion, but that had always been all right. He didn’t have to, and Raina loved that about him.

“Everyday in every way,” Raina recited from a childhood poem they’d both grown up on. Jace grinned wider, spinning her around.

“You’re still beautiful,” he whispered, bringing her close once more. Raina’s eyes fluttered close as Jace drew nearer, his lips sweetly touching her own. Her hands flew to his hair, and the kiss steadily deepened until both were out of breath and smiling dizzily.

Raina bit her lip before falling down into the soft pile of grass, stretching her arms out to either side. Jace quickly followed, falling opposite her, their heads resting on each other’s shoulders. Neither acknowledged the rain that continued to fall, not caring that their clothes were stuck to their skin.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Jace,” Raina admitted, turning her head slightly and smiling at him. Jace grinned back, kissing her quickly and chastely.

“Me, too,” he mumbled, touching her cheek --

Crystin was startled from the reality of her book as a broad shoulder bumped into her, causing her to drop her blue-covered novel. She looked back at the person, who paused, staring at her. It was the same stranger who had bumped into her during her inspection. She blushed. Why was he staring at her so?

She knelt down to avoid meeting his gaze just as he crouched down to reach her book. They touched the object at the same time and stood together. Crystin shook her head, taking her book back with a slight smile. She ran her fingers down the cover and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, continuing to stare at her. Wouldn’t he ever stop? He shouldn’t stare at her. She had no extraordinary qualities that would make a man stop and ogle her for long bouts of silence unless there was something on her face. Her cheek had been feeling itchy all day, and her hand flew to her cheek and the side of her neck.

His eyes instantly followed her hand, and he swallowed hard when it rested on her neck. He pulled his mind from whatever he was thinking about and nodded his head politely, smiling teasingly.

“This would be where you tell me ‘It’s quite all right, good sir’ so that I don’t have to suffer twenty lashings,” he joked. Crystin barely cracked a smile, but the adorable flush on her cheeks was spreading, and she ducked her head, quickly walking away as fast as her legs could carry her under her simple skirt. He watched her go, a mixture of puzzlement and intrigue bewildering him.

Could she be the one? Would Kai be satisfied? Rhys shook his head. Kai would never be satisfied, but she would do. He began to follow.

Crystin turned, ducking behind a stack of crates taller than even this rogue stranger who insisted on following her. What more could he want? She swallowed, licking her lips, and waited for him to pass before practically crawling away from the wooden crates. She sighed in relief when she thought he was no longer following her, and she went to open her book once more.

Rhys heard tiny footsteps behind him, and he smiled to himself. This would be almost comical if it weren't for his dastardly purpose. Damned Kai. Immediately frowning, he pivoted around, seeing the girl walk off, oblivious to him seeing her, and she opened the midnight blue cover again, flipping several pages and running her finger down the vanilla paper and black text until she found her spot.

Taking long strides, he quickly caught up with her. By God in Heaven, she was tiny, especially compared to himself. Though not conventionally pretty like most girls those days, her large eyes set above childishly chubby cheeks and pink lips curved into a pout made her look beautiful. It was odd.

He grabbed her forearm, and she whirled around, her big eyes growing wider. She jerked once on her arm, wincing, and he realized he was exerting too much of his cursed strength. Immediately letting her go, he vowed to be more careful next time. If there was a next time.

Crystin stared up at him, the top of her head barely coming to his chin. Her brow furrowed. "What do you want?" she asked, practically whispering. She quickly ducked her gaze, black lashes fanning out over her pale cheeks. So frail...

Rhys pulled himself from his thoughts when he realized he was reaching out to cup her cheek. What was wrong with him? Deciding to forego utter politeness, he leaned away from her, cocking his hip and crossing his arms over his chest. His smile began to resemble a teasing smirk.

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" he jested, and Crystin couldn't stop herself from letting out a quick laugh, but then she covered her mouth and her pale skin turned red with a fierce blush. She made to leave, and he reached out, touching her shoulder. Channeling Kai's attitude had obviously not been a good idea.

His smile was sincere when she looked at him again, but she shook her head, ducking away. "What's your name?" he questioned, his voice shifting from cocky to innocently curious. Her face betrayed her wonderment at how he could change before her. A man of a thousand faces. But she had no idea. Not really.

He watched her emotions play across her face. She was as open as the book held forgotten in her hands. He was staring at her so intensely that he almost didn't hear her answer.

"Crystin," she replied, the corners of her mouth lifting in a courteous smile. She bobbed her head, turning around once more to leave. This time, Rhys let her go, crossing his arms once more. Suddenly he was very confused.

Crystin covered her face in her hands the very moment she went below deck and out of the eyesight of the mysterious man who actually seemed intrigued by her. Her? Intriguing? It wasn't possible. She shook her head, silencing her thoughts, and groaned, slumping her shoulders.

She was an idiot. A handsome man was willing to spend more than two moments in her company, and she became a blithering idiot who didn't know night from day, much less how to hold conversation. Hadn't her mother always taught her the proper ways of a lady, especially in a gentleman's company? In her head, she could entertain with the best of them, but apparently putting thought into action was something she had yet to master.

Sighing again, she clambered down the painted-white metal stairs and searched the doors, looking for her family's room number. 317. 317. How far down was this godforsaken room?

A door opened then, startling Crystin, but luckily it was the room she was looking for. Elsie ran out, reaching out for her and grinning broadly. She grabbed onto Crystin's skirt with one hand while the other clutched one of her oldest and most raggedy dolls, Suzie. Crystin touched her head, sighing in relief knowing it was only her little sister.

The ship swayed, and the two girls felt it underneath them. Elsie began laughing, pointing to their open door. She bounced on her heels as she grinned up at Crystin. "Mommy's sick. She says the ship makes her tummy feel all rumbly," she informed before giggling some more.

Crystin bit back a grin. Elsie always found humor in the oddest of circumstances. Taking up her younger sister's hand and smoothing back the bouncy curls atop Elsie's head, Crystin went into the room to take care of their ocean-sick mother.

Rhys paced on the deck, smoothly avoiding the crew and passengers that headed in the opposite direction. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his brow was deeply furrowed. Kai had extended Rhys's time, and that was truly by God's grace, though Kai would never admit it. But, time was once again running out, and the closest Rhys came to changing anyone had been Sadie in the ruddy alleyway.

His thoughts turned to Crys. Was she here with family? Did she have friends? He damned himself for his next thought -- would she be missed? His lips pursed, and he continued to pace, walking up and down the long stretch of deck on the starboard side.

It was getting late, but still the sun had yet to set, and he made sure to keep every bit of his body covered. The brim of his hat remained tugged down, hiding his features in shadow. He glanced around nervously, noticing a very forward girl eyeing him.

Did her dress even have a neckline? It seemed to just be a square frame a far cry away from around her neck. Her overtly bright red locks of hair were done up in tight coils, pinned on her head in some style meant to be fashionable, but in Rhys's point of view, was clearly lacking. But what did he know? He still dressed as a farmer's son.

That fact didn't seem to bother the girl, though, and she began sashaying toward him. He couldn't help but feel the tug of his fangs as they shot down. Her neck was bare, her heartbeat practically beating out a song in his mind, a song specifically for him. Telling him to take her. Now.

She had creamy white skin, reminding him of milk or a pale winter's moon. She could have been pretty had she kept the inordinately copious amounts of paint off her face. Blue powder resided on her eyelids, and identical pink swirls laid on each cheek. Her pretty lips were coated with a red lipstick so obscenely blood-like it made Rhys want to laugh at the irony.

He could change her. She was a tart, a harlot. She reminded him of a very human version of the wench named Sturla.

"Hello, handsome," the girl purred, the words falling from her lips like thick liquid gold. Rhys stood his ground, gazing at her from under his hat. He arched his brow, not daring to open his mouth and reveal the pointy incisors. He didn't want to frighten her if he didn't have to. Besides, on this ship, he was normal. For a few days, at least, he could be what he longed to be -- a normal, human man. Just for a little while.

"I don't have time for you," Rhys muttered, tucking his head in and talking into his chest to make his fangs less visible. She was growing closer, laughing at his seemingly halfhearted denial, and her heartbeat pulsed louder, threatening to drown out every sound.

She was close enough that he could feel her body heat radiating off of her. She touched his cheek, smiling with pseudo-innocence up at him. Her act faltered as she realized how cold his skin was.

"You're freezing, handsome. I could help you warm up," she taunted, leaning in closer. Had it been any other situation, Rhys might have taken her up on her offer. Had he still been human, he would've. Morals or not, she was willing, and he was a man. But now, instead of being pleasantly riled up, he was just hungry.

The thought disgusted him.

He pushed her away, and she stumbled slightly, but it still didn't deter her. "What's wrong, handsome? Don't want to play?"

Rhys put a hand to his forehead, sighing. He was growing impatient, and her heartbeat wouldn't lessen, no matter the distance he put between himself and her now. It was haunting him, a song made just for him, constantly playing in his mind. A lovely tune. She didn't know how badly she needed to run far away. As far away as a ship would allow her. Rhys wouldn't pursue. He wouldn't let himself.

But she didn't run. She walked closer once more, laying a hand on his chest. She nibbled at his chin, practically purring deep in her throat. Rhys shook his head, damning himself. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her back to arm's length, and he stared her in the eye.

She smiled again, looking down at his hands gripping her forearms. "We can play rough. I don't mind," she whispered. What was wrong with her? Was she mad? Sturla and the other dozen or so tarts in Kai's coven seemed tame compared to this human lass.

He gave up, thankful the sun set, he tilted his hat back to a normal position, his red eyes glinting in the faint light from the rising moon. He jerked forward, baring his fangs at her and hissing animalistically. His fangs glimmered, and the nameless girl’s eyes widened in abject horror.

She struggled in his grip, and Rhys loosened his hands, letting her go. He was thankful he’d been able to scare her, but he also wanted to run a stake through his own heart, though it wouldn’t do any good. He could hear Kai in his head, that teasing, guttural laugh taunting him and making him feel more pathetic than he knew he was. He could’ve turned her. He should’ve. But, he’d done what was right. He needed to do what was right.

He resumed his pace. It was all confusing.

Crys patted a wet rag to her Fianna’s brow. Fianna’s face was slick with sweat, and she moaned dejectedly, holding a hand to her mouth. She glanced around at Joseph and her two daughters, smiling apologetically. A metal bucket sat at the ready beside Crystin’s leg. Another sway of the ship sent Fianna over the side of the bed, retching into the bucket. The rest of the family winced, turning their heads appropriately to give Fianna what little privacy they could.

Elsie scrunched her nose up, scooting further from the foul smell and taking her dolls with her, chattering animatedly to them all the while.

There were two small beds, side-by-side in the closet-sized room. They had metal frames and thin mattresses wrapped in secondhand white sheets. A single pillow lay on each bed. Joseph sat in the empty bed, giving Fianna some room to be comfortable until she felt a little more at ease, though he would share a bed with his wife while Crystin and Elsie shared the other. He held the letter he had received from his uncle, and he read it for the millionth time.

While their uncle was sympathetic to Joseph’s reasoning, he also held strict, unwavering opinions on the duty of men to fight when called upon. It was the natural law of life -- men fought and women gave birth. Though he understood Joseph’s plight and was willing to keep them away from prying eyes for the duration of this world war, he was far from happy with his nephew.

Sighing, Joseph was sorely tempted to crumble the letter and throw it far away. Facing his uncle, knowing the old man saw Joseph as nothing more than a coward, put a deep dent in his pride. His muscles itched to rip the paper to shreds and go anywhere but the old uncle’s old house the moment they arrived in Liverpool.

He glanced up from the even scrawl and gazed at his family, Elsie off playing pretend and Crystin diligently taking care of his loving wife. They were his life, and if it meant him being a coward in the eyes of his kin, then by God almighty, he would do whatever it took.

Crystin dipped the cloth into a bucket of clear, cool water and wrung it out, continuing to pat Fianna’s forehead and chest. Her mother seemed to be resting easier and was almost asleep, so Crystin tore her eyes from Fianna and planted them on Joseph. She had an idea.

“Why not we take her up to the deck? If we kept her from the railing but just got her some air, maybe she would feel better?” It wasn’t her best idea, but she hated seeing her mother this way. It was distressing, and what was worse, the more she saw her mother’s reactions to the shifting of the ship, the more her own stomach wanted to react the same way. After all, she hardly had the constitution for such adventures as this.

Joseph sharply glanced up at her, quickly shaking his head. “No! No, child, we can’t,” he forbade. When Crystin silently questioned him with the look on her face, Joseph sighed again.

“We are not allowed on deck,” Joseph confided. Crystin’s brow furrowed.

“Not allowed? I was on deck for hours,” Crystin told him. Joseph shook his head.

“You shouldn’t have went. I thought you were only going to wander around below deck or I wouldn’t have let you go. But, in the very least, you must pass for someone of high standards. Those are the people allowed on deck -- the rich, the famous. Not people like us, Crystin,” he delved. Crystin put a hand to her chest.

“Why not?” she demanded. “They’re no better than us,” she fumed. Joseph shook his head pityingly.

“They’re richer than us.”

“It doesn’t matter!” she countered. “That shouldn’t matter! We are people one and the same. God created us all. This is ridiculous,” she said, flouncing around and crossing her legs huffily, planting her chin in the palm of her hand and glaring at the white walls. Joseph agreed, but he didn’t say so. Frankly, he was proud enough that his daughter had not taken the way of simpering ladies, inferior to all. Whether she believed it or not, he decided, Crystin was something far more spectacular than anyone would ever bestow her credit.

Later that night, Crystin lay in the small bed with Elsie tucked close to her side. Her eyelids flitted and her body continuously tossed back and forth making Elsie whine incoherently in her sleep. Crystin just could not get still.

Finally, after hours had passed until it was just before dawn, Crystin's mind settled down, and she fell into a restless sleep. Immediately, her mind's eye set images before her to entertain her subconscious thoughts.

In her dream, Crystin stood on the deck of the Empress right next to the railing, her hands resting on the white painted bars. She leaned over, basking in the sun that shone down on her face. It was a beautiful day. Wild birds soared through the air, their wings slicing through the wind beautifully. Without a cloud in the sky, Crys could see everything clearly, but eventually she tugged her gaze down from the heavens and stared down.

Gasping in shock, she noticed her dress had changed. No longer was it a plain brown, but it was a gorgeous gown, much like the fashions worn by rich women of high society. It was a jungle green with lace around the plunging neckline and black lace gloves that went clear up to her elbow. Her shoes weren't flat or made of leather-like materials, but had high heels and matched the dress.

She felt her hair, no longer in its ordinary braid. It was curled and pinned up with sequins adorning it and catching the sunlight, making her chestnut locks sparkle. Her eyes lit up when she took off her gloves and saw that every childhood scar she had acquired on rough and tumble play with Elsie and by herself had disappeared completely leaving her skin smooth and flawless. Her nails were clipped and perfectly filed without a trace of dirt under them.

Touching her lips, she felt the sticky sheen of lipstick and when she looked down at her other wrist, she saw a small handbag, green just the same as her dress, and she opened the clasp, taking out a small compact mirror. She fixed it on herself and gasped once more at her reflection.

The slightly pallid, sparsely freckled, and annoyingly heart-shaped face she was used to was gone. This face was more oval and grown up, her cheeks not as puffy with childhood fat and there wasn't a freckle in sight. Not only that, but brown powder was painted on her eyelids, and it made her green eyes light up and stand out as beautiful rather than buggy. Rouge was lightly brushed on her cheeks, making her paleness practically evaporate, thought she swore she was a little more tan and looked a little more alive. She had never felt happier.

A hand at her waist made her spin around, quickly dumping the mirror in her handbag, which she closed with a quick click. Her heart raced but she smiled when she saw who it was. Though her conscious mind didn't recognize the stranger, this dream girl version of Crystin did, and she was obviously extremely happy to see him. The stranger smiled at her and winked teasingly, taking her hand and spinning her out. She laughed and gracefully twirled letting him take in everything from her hair to her shoes. He nodded approvingly, tugging her close again and placing his right hand on her waist. With his left, he took hers and began dancing in circles along the deck, oblivious to the other passengers who all grinned and pointed. Younger boys looked on jealously, as well as younger girls, while older passengers sighed and reminisced.

Everyone was happy, and with another whirl of the dance, night suddenly fell, a huge golden moon soaring up into the cloudless, fogless sky. Stars glittered across the inky black sky, and finally the deck was empty save for Crystin and her mysterious stranger.

She looked into his honey brown eyes as he slowed the dance, finally stopping and pressing her back against the railing gently. She lifted her head, cocking her eyebrow curiously. Never before had she been in this situation. She placed her hands on his chest, not knowing what else to do with them. The mystery man ducked his head down, his mouth coming steadily closer to her own.

Her lips parted, but instead of kissing her, the stranger's lips went to her neck, and she thought she felt his teeth against her skin, but before she could say anything, a loud horn from another ship sounded and suddenly the hull of a metal ship stared Crystin in the eyes. Screaming, she pushed the stranger away, and she swore she heard him growl, but she continued screaming as the second ship grew steadily closer.

Crystin woke up with a start, quickly sitting up and searching the darkened room. She threw off the paltry blanket covering herself and Elsie and threw her hand to her chest. She was panting, and she touched her face, clammy with sweat. Her nightgown stuck to her body, and she could barely breathe. Her eyes widened as she felt the attack coming on.

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SOMEONE leave me some feedback! PLEASE!

Here it is, chapter six.

Oh? Official word count so far? 28,155.

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Chapter six: Binding Ties

1912

Two small headstones stood unwaveringly side by side under a sweeping, wide willow tree. Both were empty. Both were signs of respect done by the Caldaugh family for their loved ones, an unborn babe, and their eldest child, Kai.

Rhys was in the loft he and Kai had shared. He was nineteen and had finally finished his steadily climbing mountain of chores. He was buried nose deep in a book. It was a study of varying religions, a subject which interested Rhys immensely.

Night was fast approaching, and Rhys grumbled to himself when a light wind blew through the open window, sniffing out his candle. He closed his book, deciding he might as well had go to bed. It was an early day tomorrow. Tomorrow was always an early day.

He heard his father moving around below the loft. His mother was crying. She cried hard and often for her two lost children. Miscarrying in her fourth month of carrying child, she always blamed herself for that child's death. Yet, she also blamed herself for Kai's death, too. If the babe had not miscarried, if she had not done wrong whatever it was she had done wrong, Kai would not have went to town and been killed.

There had never been a body. When Kai had not returned those four years ago, their father, finally sober, had ridden to town. Stumbling in the doctor's office, he found the doctor's corpse and more blood than could possibly be just the one old man's. Their horse had been tied up just outside, and the kerchief his wife had sewn with Kai's initials on it was found on the floor close to the doctor's body, a corner of it tainted red with blood.

They had assumed Kai was dead. There was rumor, of course, that Kai had picked up on his father's habits. That he'd gotten drunk and killed the doctor for no good reason other than sheer drunkenness. But that was just rumors. The family didn't believe for two seconds that Kai was capable of murder. It was insanity to even humor the thought.

Years passed. Rhys's mother never dared get pregnant again. She didn't dare do much of anything but stay in bed, knitting and crying. Rhys tried to help. He would go in and read to her. But she seemed far away, occasionally lightly smiling or nodding her head, but that was the best reactions he received from her.

Marylin was blossoming into a young woman, and Rhys still couldn't believe how fast she was growing. She was a whole twelve years old, but still as mischievous as ever. Where other girls were taking finishing lessons on how to dance and eat and sew, Marylin was outside chasing bullfrogs and getting her white linen dresses covered in dirt.

After Kai's death, Sadie visited once, dressed in black. She talked to only Rhys, murmuring about how she missed Kai and if she could only tell him...

No. It was silly.

Kai was dead and she needed to move on. She merely came by to give condolences. That was what she had said in any circumstance. Rhys didn't believe her. She and Kai had been madly in love, and he knew it. Everyone knew it. It was evident in their faces. It was the only time Kai didn't seem bitter or was anxiously counting down the days until he could leave his family and never look back.

Rhys hung his head, dropping his book to the floor. He needed to quit reminiscing. There was no use in it. Kai was gone, and their mother was as good as gone. Their father was still a drunken sod who just managed to work enough days to not get fired and to put a potato on the table.

His mother's sobbing grew louder, and Rhys heard his father shouting at her. "Shut up, you bloody woman! It's been four years! Shut up!" Rhys peeked over the loft. His father had stood up and was waving a bottle around that contained some kind of amber liquid, which sloshed around, some spilling on the floor, which only made his father madder. "Bloody hell!" he grumbled, taking another huge swallow from the bottle.

The smell of alcohol began to seep through the house and reached the loft. Rhys rolled over, ignoring what his life had become. Was this what Kai had to deal with being the oldest? If this had been what Kai had had to see everyday, Rhys didn't dare question what made Kai want to leave so badly. If it weren't for Marylin, he would leave as well.

Rhys was just beginning to nod off, his sore muscles attempting to relax on the lumpy pallet he called a bed when a scratching at his window awoke him. His eyes shot open with a start, and he dragged his hand across his face, sitting up and throwing on his one billowy white shirt. Going to the window, he got on his knees, crouching down. He peeked out, wondering what he’d see, but it was just a sodding tree branch scratching and scraping at the glass.

But when Rhys let his gaze travel up, he noticed someone sitting in the tree limbs. Someone holding the branch and forcing it to scratch against the window pane. Rhys swallowed several times as he squinted into the darkness.

Before he could make out who it was sitting in the bare limbs out in the rainy cold, a face shot forward, smirking with terrible fangs poking out of its mouth and over its bottom lip.

“Hello, brother,” the face whispered, and Rhys quickly backed up away from the window. The circular window opened easily and swung out, the mysterious person entering the room as smoothly as a snake slithering into its den. Rhys gaped at the figure and swallowed several times before attempting to speak.

“K-Kai?” he asked, staring up at his brother, who was quite alive. So he thought.

“Miss me?” Kai asked, advancing on Rhys. Rhys continued to stare in bewilderment before he shook his head, scrambling up and hugging Kai, kissing him on both cheeks happily.

“Just wait until mum and father hear of this, Kai! Where’ve you been? I had to be the responsible one!” Rhys joked. Kai laughed good-naturedly, patting Rhys on the back. Rhys began studying his brother, noticing that he hadn’t changed in four years, surprisingly. Except that he was pale, nearly as pale as the full moon hanging in the black sky. He was still as handsome as ever, but he was dressed entirely in black now. He’d abandoned the clothing of a farmer’s son after all. Maybe he had made something of himself.

Kai shrugged lightheartedly. “I’ve been around. Here and there. Speaking of our family, are they anywhere near?”

“You mean you can’t hear them?” Rhys questioned, halfway jokingly as both brothers gazed down from the loft. Their father slammed his bottle of whiskey down on the wooden table and went toward their mother, slapping her hard on the cheek. She cried out, holding her stinging cheek and glaring at him, though it was a very weak return. She hadn’t the strength to even stand up to her husband anymore.

Rhys thought he heard Kai mumble “Pathetic” under his breath, but he doubted himself. Kai would never say such a thing. Would he?

Rhys stared at his brother. “What have you been doing for four years, Kai?” he asked in a hushed tone, hoping not to draw attention from their parents or Marylin, who lay supposedly asleep in a room jutting just off the tiny kitchen. Kai smirked.

“I’ve been changing.” Rhys’s eyes widened with horror as he watched Kai’s face distort ever so slightly as the fangs he thought he’d only imagined earlier sprouted from Kai’s mouth. Rhys stood up, his head almost hitting the low ceiling. Again he stumbled backwards, tripping over his pallet. Kai hopped up gracefully like a giant black cat. Blinking rapidly, Rhys tried to scrabble for a weapon of some kind. This wasn’t his brother.

“Kai?” a meek voice questioned from just under the loft. Kai paused, glancing over the edge once more. Rhys got up and did the same. Marylin was standing there, bare feet and thin white sleeping gown, her hair all a mess. She clutched a stuff dolly their mother had given her long before Kai had disappeared to her chest.

Kai smirked, sniggering under his breath. He jumped down, landing perfectly on his feet in front of Marylin. She gasped, jumping backwards involuntarily before running up and jumping into Kai’s arms, kissing his face and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Her mouth split into a huge, impish grin, and Rhys climbed down the feeble ladder, trying to signal to her that Kai was dangerous without Kai noticing what he was doing.

However, Kai set Marylin back down on her feet and whipped around, facing Rhys. “Brother, what are you telling little Mary?” he questioned condescendingly, the right corner of his mouth twitching into a thin sneer.

“Nothing,” Rhys denied. He looked over Kai’s shoulder to their parents, who were in shock. Their mother was the first to react, nearly fainting but hurriedly getting out of the bed and shoving past her husband to get to her eldest son.

“Kai! My son, my son! I thought I’d never see you again!” she wept, clinging to his neck. Kai sniggered, hugging her tight.

“Oh, mum, I missed you,” he replied sincerely, but then their mother screamed as Kai sank his fangs through the tender skin at the base of her neck. His father walked up, trying to push him away, and Kai, never pausing from drinking off his mother, grabbed their father’s bottle and smashed it on the ground before batting their father out of the way.

What seemed to be a tiny swat sent their father across the room, and he slammed into the wall, falling onto the floor in an unconscious heap. Kai jerked as he drained their mother, his grip around her growing stronger as he continued to drink. Finally he raised his head, dropping their mother at his feet. She was ashen gray, her eyes wide in horror, and she wasn’t breathing.

Marylin gasped, a shaky hand flying to her mouth. She looked as if she were about to be sick, and Rhys flew to her side, wrapping his arms around her tightly in some sort of protection.

“You honestly think you can keep her safe, Rhys? You were never the stronger out of us two, and you know this. Besides, I would never hurt my baby sister.” He put on a deeply hurt front, and Marylin stepped away from Rhys.

“You won’t?” she asked, her small voice shaking as she gazed up at Kai. Kai stepped closer, cupping her cheek gently before kneeling down in front of her. His other hand went to her face, and he looked her in the eye, smiling brightly. If a tiny dribble of their mother’s own blood had not escaped from his mouth and was slowly dripping down his chin, it would have been the perfect picture of sibling affections.

Rhys was struck unable to move. He leaned back against a wall as he watched Kai smile so brightly at Marylin. Kai leaned forward, kissing Marylin’s forehead. It was distraction, and Rhys ran forward just as Kai’s hands slid one under her chin and the other to the back of her head. Kai twisted, and Rhys heard the unmistakable snap of Marylin’s neck breaking.

Rhys shoved Kai backward and they wrestled on the wooden floorboards. Kai laughed the entire time while Rhys focused on trying to get his hands around Kai’s neck or do something to kill him. Anything. Finally, Kai rolled, pinning Rhys to the floor.

“You can’t kill me,” he hissed before getting up and dusting himself off. He glanced at their mother’s and Marylin’s bodies laying almost side to side, and he snickered once again.

“Ashes, ashes, they all fall down,” he whispered before breaking the steady gaze he’d been holding with Rhys the whole while. Once he did, Rhys moved to Marylin, gathering her in his arms. He held her close to his chest, rocking her gently and smoothing her hair. He was crying.

Kai rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Crying doesn’t suit you, Rhys. It’s not manly in the slightest. She was just a child,” he coldly stated. Rhys looked up, horrified. His nostrils flared, and his jaw set.

He screamed, “That’s right! She was just a child! And you killed her! How could you? How will you... how will you live with yourself?” he demanded, setting Marylin down gently before jumping up and flying over to Kai, demanding answers.

Kai didn’t seem in the least upset by Rhys’s accusations. He glanced over Rhys’s shoulder at the two bodies of his supposedly beloved family, and he grinned. “Very easily,” he began. “I won’t live. I’m not alive,” he answered.

Rhys stepped backward as he was wont to do, and Kai didn’t care to advance, but instead spun and faced their father, who was still unconscious and crumbled in an untidy heap on the floor. Kai looked around until he saw a cast iron skillet that their mother always used to use to cook brekkie in, and he retrieved it from its hook. He held it over his head, and Rhys stared in horrified shock, as Kai brought the pan down, crushing their father’s skull with the blow.

Blood began to pour from the wound, and Kai squatted down, degrading their father even further by licking off a dribble of blood that was quickly running down from his matted hair to the tip of his chin. Rhys turned away in revulsion, his tears flowing freely. He wept in his hands, his shoulders shaking while Kai continued to beat their father with the skillet, hitting him everywhere.

Finally, Kai cast the pan aside and jerked their father’s limp body up by the collar. His freed hand clenched into a fist as he sucker punched their father in the gut several times. It was overkill. He was a monster. And Rhys didn’t know what to do.

After what seemed like excruciatingly long hours, Kai finally came to a halt and dropped their father’s body. The corpse was barely recognizable, blood matting his hair and his long beard. Rhys felt sick to his stomach and doubled over, retching on the kitchen floor.

Kai whipped around, screwing his features up in revulsion. “Could you be any more vile, Rhys?” Kai questioned, grabbing Rhys’s hair and pulling him back so that he could look into Rhys’s eyes. Rhys winced, and Kai took a similar handkerchief to the one their mum had made him and dabbled the sick from Rhys’s lips.

“What are you?” Rhys spat out. Kai chuckled deeply.

“I am much more than most will ever be.” He paused. “But not you,” he added cryptically. Rhys raised his eyebrow, trying to avoid looking at the three bodies on the floor around their feet.

“You’re going to kill me,” Rhys stated, understanding finally coloring his feature. Kai clicked his tongue.

“I would never kill you, brother,” Kai assured, letting go of Rhys’s hair and smoothing Rhys’s collar affectionately. He paused, cocking his head. “Well, I would, but I would not let you stay dead,” he altered. Rhys’s eyes widened further.

“What do you me --” he cut himself off with a gasp and a scream as Kai lurched forward, sinking his fangs into Rhys’s neck.

Rhys struggled, pushing and clawing at Kai. He would not go without a fight. No. No! Kai couldn’t be doing this! He just couldn’t.

He was beginning to fill dizzy from lack of blood, but still he punched at Kai, hitting his brother’s face or shoulders. He felt weak beside his brother, who wasn’t even noticing. But the pain was becoming excruciating. The more he fought, the worse the pain became. Rhys kicked at Kai’s shins and continued hitting him until his arms felt too heavy too move. He could barely stand.

His knees gave, and Kai gripped his forearm to steady him. Rhys could hardly keep his eyes open, his lids drooping dangerously. He felt his heart slowing, struggling to circulate the rapidly disappearing blood. He couldn’t gather a breath, couldn’t swallow. His throat felt dry. Too dry.

Everything hurt. Everything was sore. Had Kai gone mad?

Kai didn’t stop until Rhys was so close to death, he could feel the Reaper’s breath on his face. He then lifted his head, running his tongue over his lips and teeth to gather what of Rhys’s blood hadn’t spilled neatly into his mouth. He never imagined his brother would taste so good, but he supposed it was a common taste of the pure. He felt full and heady.

Rhys was limply hanging in his grasp, and Kai frowned. His brother had always been the weaker of the two. The perfect little scholar not cut out for a hard day of men’s work. Kai rolled his eyes and slapped Rhys several times. Rhys’s eyes flickered open for a moment before closing again. Kai removed one hand from supporting Rhys to use a thin fingernail in order to cut a small line in his neck. He hoisted Rhys closer, bringing Rhys’s lips to rest on his neck. The wound was already quickly healing, and Rhys needed to drink fast.

“Drink, brother. Now!” Kai yelled, and Rhys clamped on, sucking in the tainted blood. It mixed with his own, the enhanced, powerful blood of the undead, soulless beings.

Slowly, Rhys grew strength until he could stand on his own. Suddenly, he stood, glaring at Kai. In Rhys’s mouth were fangs extending for the first time. Kai remembered the feeling of distortion and not remembering who or what, when or why.

Rhys took one last glance around the house and made to leave, his stance angry and tense. Kai stopped him with his palm pressed flat into Rhys’s chest.

“You’re hungry, Rhys,” Kai stated obviously. Rhys’s eyes widened in panic when Kai walked over, gathering Marylin in his arms.

“Drink from her,” Kai ordered, but Rhys frantically shook his head. He was slowly remembering everything, and he was appalled. What was he? Why did he feel so hungry? The smell of blood permeated the room, and it only weakened him.

He looked at the tiny body in Kai’s arms. A small morsel practically served on a platter to him, but no! He could not. It was Marylin! He had just seen Kai kill her, and she was their youngest sister! Their only sister!

“No,” Rhys denied. It was then that he spied the old Bible laying on the dinner table. He picked it up, his hands burning when touching it. He wanted to fling it from his grasp, but he resisted, letting his palms burn while he flipped the pages. He would not defile the word of God.

Kai stole the Bible from Rhys’s gasp and threw it on the ground, offering Marylin up again. Rhys pushed away, finding new strength from this change, and managed to get past Kai and out the door, out into the blackness of night.

“You’ll regret not eating, brother,” Kai offhandedly reminded. Rhys continued shaking his head frantically as he backed away into the shadows. Kai shrugged, bringing Marylin to his lips, her head lolling to one side as he bit into her as well. He drank for only a moment before Rhys ran forward, wrenching the little girl from Kai’s grasp.

Unaccustomed to his new strength, Marylin flew from his arms, landing unceremoniously on the ground not far from where she’d originally lain. Rhys stared in horror at the thin trail of blood falling onto the floor from Marylin’s neck. The stench of blood was everywhere, and the crude angle of Marylin’s neck... it was all too much.

He stared in horror at Kai, once again leaving the only home he’d ever known and disappearing into the night. Just before he became completely invisible, sinking into the night, Rhys whispered, “May God bless your soul, Kai. For you will go to hell any other way,” thinking Kai couldn’t hear.

Kai smirked, propping against the doorframe, he answered, “Too bad I don’t have a soul, Kai. I’m sure it would’ve been a real conversation-starter with your God. Tell Him I said hi.”

----------------------------

I'm not incredibly fond of that ending. It's terribly cliche. But that's okay. It kind of suits Kai.

This is the first time I've written since my last update. No. Seriously. Isn't that so amazingly sad?

Today, I discovered I was officially 11,000 words behind. Holy naga spit. That's a lot.

So, I've been writing... all day. I've finished chapter five AND chapter six. I need to write 3500 more words if I wish to get caught up, and you know what? I think I can actually do that.

Maybe.

IF I COULD THINK OF SOME BLOODY IDEAS FOR CHAPTER SEVEN, GOSH DARNIT.

Anywho...

----------------------------

Chapter five: Inner Demon

March of 1914 brought welcome reprieve to an extremely bitter winter, though the nights were still frigidly cold. Rhys meandered down moonlit alleyways, nearly thankful he was what he was. Because of his curse, he couldn’t feel the cold. While he passed groups of homeless people huddled around barrels full of flickering flames for warmth, he sighed. His mind was split in two. He wanted to say they deserved this blessed curse more than he did -- to keep the cold away. But that would be bestowing on them something utterly horrible. How could he wish that on some innocent soul?

He had been searching for two frustratingly long months to no avail. He brushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes with his fingers and sighed impatiently. He did not want to do this. He had his options, and he did not like any of them.

He could hide from Kai, but then Kai would most likely find him and attempt to kill him. Since he did not have the ability to, he would most likely bring the entire coven and they would bloody him up pretty badly. He could maybe fight Kai for awhile, but an entire coven of monsters? He was man enough to admit he would most likely come out of it as near death’s door as he could get.

Then, of course, he could use this demand as an opportunity to take an evil person out of the world. He could turn some girl who was doing something wrong. Ironically, he turned a corner to see a woman, alone, with a closer-fitting skirt on and a neckline so low, he was afraid at any moment, her breasts would simply fall out. She had ungodly amounts of paint covering her face, and her hair was fixed lavishly. He knew what she was out this late for.

He could turn her, but not even she deserved this.

He wrapped his arms around himself in thought. Pushing his hair out of his face once more, he sighed. He leaned against a rough brick wall and continued morosely pondering. Just as he began walking once more, a man in a hurry walked by and bumped shoulders with Rhys. Normally Rhys wouldn’t care, but the man had brushed the still bruised and scarred skin from when Kai had seared his flesh with the cross.

He winced, a string of obscenities tripping out of his mouth. He grabbed his shoulder. The man didn’t notice, didn’t look back. He glanced at his pocket watch and kept on his way. Rhys steeled himself and stood up straight, ignoring the burning sensation. Would it ever heal even a little?

Cursing Rhys, he ducked into an abandoned shop and closed his eyes, leaning against a wooden wall. He crossed his arms over his chest, blowing his hair out of his face. What was he going to do? Damn Kai to hell!

Another four months passed and finally the weather was balmy with light breezes, the exact opposite of Rhys’s current mood. Rhys was growing desperate. The sixth month was drawing to a close and he had yet to sire anyone. Kai was going to kill him. Or come as close as possible.

Even if Kai did not approach him directly, Rhys knew he was being watched. He sometimes caught the glimpse of slit eyes, sometimes red with hunger, glittering in darkened corners. Or occasionally a breathy growl emanated only from his kind sounded just behind him, a finger’s width from the back on his neck, making his hair stand on end.

Kai’s devoted lackeys kept strict watch on his every move, and Rhys knew that Kai was counting down the days and hours until he could torment Rhys in person once more. He had to hurry. It was only one girl.

Just as he was having these thoughts, a fiercely strong hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed his collar, nearly choking him with the strong grip. He felt himself dip into his immortal strength, when normally he kept to keeping himself as human and mortal as possible. He did not, to as much of his ability as he could, use his extra senses and superhuman strength. He refused to.

He pulled himself away, locking onto the arm and twisting it behind the stranger’s back. He had recognized the mysterious figure immediately.

“What do you want, Kai?” Rhys asked, nearly growling in his threatening whisper. Kai chuckled darkly, his lips twisting into an evil smirk.

“You’ve grown stronger. I thought you refused your gift in all forms?” Kai taunted, wincing almost inaudibly when Rhys tightened his grip on Kai’s arm, twisting it further. “You can let go. This is a friendly chat,” he confirmed.

Gritting his teeth, Rhys let go, and Kai whirled around, tugging on his collar, smoothing his metaphorically ruffled feathers. He slicked his already smooth hair down and calmly inhaled, though their kind did not need to breath. Old habits die hard.

Kai grinned at his younger brother and embraced him. Rhys was smart enough to know it was all an act, though he briefly touched Kai’s shoulders. He would play along.

“How are you?” Kai asked conversationally, drawing away from Rhys and studying his features. Rhys looked worse for wear compared to his older brother. Kai was dressed all in black; the cape he had used to bind Rhys’s wrists together was draped across his shoulders once more. He now had a cane and a black hat, drawn low over his eyes. He knew the purpose of that – to hide his eyes from the humans who might catch the red slits that told of his hunger.

Rhys tensed. The last time he’d seen his brother, he’d been left with a cross-shaped scar, leaving his skin red, shiny and tight. He tensed, waiting to spring lest his brother try something. He was more in tune with his powers than ever, honing up to face Kai or someone from their coven bent on his demise.

No matter what stories people told, Rhys knew that while he did not need to fear for this half-life, the excruciating pain Kai or one of his devoted could inflict would be unparallel with any he had felt before. Rhys winced to himself, still lost in his and Kai's previous battle.

"What do you want?" Rhys questioned again, sighing in a bored manner. He would not let Kai affect him so. Kai shrugged lightheartedly.

"To chat. As I said. You don't look so good, brother. You need to eat." Rhys closed his eyes. He knew where this was going. Kai was never one to wait around when business was left unfinished. He was a very impatient man, and that seemed to grow worse once Cullen had chosen him to become one of his sired.

"I am eating," Rhys hedged. Kai could look in his eyes. His brother could practically read minds, if not literally do it. Rhys was nearly convinced of the latter. He would know that Rhys had yet to feed on a human girl as he had agreed he would.

Kai forwent stalling and hissed, "You're running out of time, brother." He began circling Rhys like an eagle circling its fallen prey. Rhys straightened his back and lifted his chin. This time, he would not let Kai get the upper hand.

"You're just early," Rhys responded to which Kai scoffed.

"You are just too soft, baby brother. Always have been," Kai laughingly said before his incisors turned into pointed fangs. He grabbed hold of a maiden walking passed, who had been eyeing him hopefully, and he twisted her head, snapping her neck, which made a sickening sound.

"No!" Rhys called out, reaching forward. Kai growled at his brother and dug his fangs into the dead girl's jugular vein. Rhys swallowed to keep from retching as he couldn't take his eyes away from Kai feasting. Twin lines of blood ran down from his lips and skated across her pale skin, disappearing into the neckline of her dress.

The smell of blood was intoxicating, and it had been two weeks since Rhys fed. No. No!

Rhys thought, jerking his head away until he heard Kai drop the girl to the ground, her vacant body hitting the cold stones with a sickening thud. He glared at Kai, his upper lip twitching as he growled at his older brother.

It was then he realized he had grown his fangs, their sharp points piercing his lower lip. "How dare you!" he whispered, gesturing to the crooked body of the girl. Kai shrugged.

"Just a little human. Don't worry. She didn't feel it," he promised, his eyelids fluttering as he rolled his eyes and laughed, shoving one hand into his pocket while the other gripped the top of his cane.

He continued talking. "I can see it, you know. Your eyes are far too red, baby brother, for you not to be hungry. Was that torture? Smelling her sweet blood. She tasted divine, by the way. You really would have loved her. I may have left a little if you wish to..." he trailed off, gesturing to the girl lying at their feet.

Revulsion showed on Rhys's face, and he swallowed several times. "Please, Kai. Stop. Just give me a little more time. It's been difficult," he wagered. Kai stared at him, flabbergasted.

"Difficult? What I just did was not difficult. No one saw. There'll be no questions. What identity did this girl have? I could taste it in her blood. She was even still a virgin. She had no husband nor children. She was nondescript. Easily forgotten. It is far from difficult, Rhys." Kai practically purred the last lines, smirking at Rhys.

Rhys swallowed thickly. "Fine," he muttered, looking Kai, whose eyes were now a deep brown once more, in the eye. "Give me until Christmas morn. I promise you, I will have a new girl for your coven by then. It will be a... gift." He prayed God was not hearing him. That just once God was not watching. How could he ever be forgiven for this?

Kai cocked his head, contemplating. He nodded. "Until Christmas," he agreed. Rhys sighed in relief, but before he knew it, Kai took his cane and struck Rhys across the backs of his knees.

Caught off guard, Rhys dropped to his knees, his bones cracking. They would quickly heal, but the pain was still immense. He grunted, struggling to get back up. Kai used his cane to pull Rhys's head back by the neck, the cylinder of wood pressing into his Adam's apple, making the retching feeling far worse than before. Kai lowered his mouth to Rhys's ears.

His voice was almost melodic as he said, "Do not delay, little brother. I am not this lenient with others." He released Kai and dragged him up to his feet to look him in the eye. "Blood is thicker than water," he whispered before releasing Kai and pivoting around, disappearing into the night.

Kai rubbed his neck, swallowing several times and panting. He gazed at where his brother had stood, before hopping up, his knees still vaguely sore. The pain would pass, but the threat would not. He needed to find a girl. And quickly.

All Hallow's Eve brought about a change in Rhys and a new location. All the month he'd felt as the dormant blood in his veins was on fire, sparks of electricity shooting throughout his blood stream. Relocating across the water to North America, Canada more specifically, contributed. While the women dressed the same and talked the same, they were entirely different. Their very souls smelled different.

That night, though, it was as if his entire mind was focused on what he was. It was his second Hallow's Eve to witness after being turned, and he knew about the legends. He knew of the Day of the Dead. It was his day to walk the earth in sunshine and moonlight.

He could see the sun and not be burned by its light, and others of his kind could move around humans and act normally. No one would be any the wiser. How he would relish the temporary euphoria of the sun.

Rhys had no plans for this All Hallow's Eve. Though, he did have plans for the days following it. He was going to visit his old home. Why he wanted to revisit his home from his human life, he didn't know. Perhaps it was all so he could become what Kai really wanted him to become. He was so tired of fighting, so bloody tired. He was sick of going weeks without food, weeks of starving, and then he would have to feast on animals, and even then he felt guilty.

He had a patched up satchel swung over his shoulder, and he paused in the alleyway he was particularly fond of haunting and opened the satchel, pulling out his Bible. He turned it over in his hands, regarding it. He could feel his conscience dividing into the traditional good and evil. He didn't know what to do any longer.

He had less than two months left, and Kai had been generous in extending his deadline. Appropriate name, really, he mused.

If he had been raised a devout Catholic, he would have crossed himself then, thanking the Lord for sparing him and any other innocent lives Kai destroyed to make Rhys more bitter along the way. He gritted his teeth at any thought of Kai and a sudden swoop of determination flooded his body. He needed to get this over with so that the very thought of his older brother would not haunt his eternal nightmares, while he was asleep and awake.

He looked up then, his hair always falling in his eyes, shading the shining red slits from any hapless stranger's view. Her back was to him, she noticed. She was young, pale, with a high back and flowing chocolate tresses currently done up in the latest of fashions. She had to be rich, he assumed, unfazed.

Bracing himself, he darted across the alleyway, hiding in the closest corner of shadows he could come to. He peered around, watching her. She had stopped, talking to some older gentleman standing in the doorway.

Soon, however, she walked off, and Rhys followed. He tried to suppress the guilt and completely give himself over to his senses. It was almost animalistic. It was animalistic. He could smell the perfumes she used in her bath water, and he heard every rustle of her wide skirts. What was she doing out so late? It was dangerous at night.

No, he mustn't think that. After all, wasn't he her very danger? Sighing, Rhys wanted to kick himself, but he couldn't let her get away. Her brown curls bounced with every step, and she held her shoulders high. She was confident in her beauty and her talents. Her pride oozed from her very being. She reminded him of Kai, which disgusted him.

But, part of Rhys respected that confidence, that pride that this nameless, faceless girl possessed and that Kai possessed. Most women where simpering idiots. Though, there were a few who were beginning to stand up and take charge. Though he was dead, he kept up with the world's happenings. They did influence him to a certain degree, and this girl before him had to be one of those brave few souls.

Or maybe she was just conceited. Rhys didn't know. He couldn't even see her face, but for some reason, she seemed familiar. As if he'd seen her in a past life. In his human life. He shook the notion from his head. It was ridiculous. He was just thinking of some sort of reasoning to talk himself out of turning her.

But he had to! It was the only way to rid Kai from himself. To prevent Kai from hurting him and weak, helpless humans. For, he thought back to when Kai last confronted him. He could still here the quick snap the young maiden's neck had made when Kai had killed her, and it still made him sick to consider.

Thankfully, he did not have to do that. He wasn't sure he could twist some girl's neck, hear the satisfying crack, and not run a stake through his own heart.

He continued following her, watching her every move. She turned another corner as did he. Her heeled boots crunched on the dry leaves spread across the sidewalks, normally busy but silent this late at night. His black boots were silent as he crept along, half bent over and keeping to the shadows.

Blowing his hair from his eyesight once more, he silently ran forward a few more meters. He was almost caught up to her, and yet she still had no idea.

She was humming.

Rhys finally got a look at her as the moon bathed her in light. He barely saw her face, but he could see her eyes were closed, and just a twitch of a smile was dancing on her lips. Rhys blinked several times and shook his head. She was humming. She was happy.

She had no ulterior motives, no dark past, no secret lover she was off to see. She was an innocent in every sense of the word. Just enjoying a midnight stroll. It was a stupid, foolish, innocent thing to do, but that would be why she did it.

Rhys's unneeded breath caught in his throat. He forced himself to exhale just to regain his senses. He couldn't... he just...

"Oh, by the gods, bite her already," a seductive voice whispered from the shadows. Rhys whirled around, his eyes straining to see while hoping to keep sight on the human girl, who was slowly strolling away.

The owner of the demanding hiss stepped from the shadows. She was ethereally pale, her fangs glistening in the moonlight. He recognized her. She had flaming red hair curled around her heart shaped face. She was one of Kai's pets. Another of his trophies. She and he were alike on the most basic of levels.

"Did Kai send you?" Rhys asked, jerking his eyes away from this girl to the other one farther up ahead.

"She's a pretty little thing. Dripping of purity. It's disgustingly poetic," the wench drabbled, licking her lips and snickering.

Rhys squared his jaw, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned his gaze back to the beautiful demon. He jumped as he realized she was so close he could feel her breath like gossamer kisses on his skin. She smiled up at him and bit at him playfully, snickering again.

"You're letting her get away," she reminded, and Rhys's gaze flickered to the human girl. He glanced once more at the wench before him and dashed off, chasing after the young girl with no worries about being silent anymore. She was much too far ahead to hear him, and besides, she seemed much more keen to be lost in her own thoughts than to pay heed to her surroundings.

Rhys felt his incisors lengthen into sharp fangs, and he pricked his lip with their sharpness. He closed his eyes sending up a silent prayer to God for forgiveness. He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't...

He had to.

Catching up to the young thing was easy. In a few effortless strides, he was behind her once more. Glancing back over his shoulder, he could see the daring wench smirking at him from where she stood, having not moved a single inch since he'd run off. She was barely a dot in the distance, and he rid his thoughts of her. Let her tell Kai what she wanted. Kai be damned. As soon as he did this one horrible thing, he would be rid of his brother forever. He could do as he pleased. If Kai was true to the bargain.

"Hurry up! Catch her, catch her!" the demon girl's voice hissed in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his mind to shut her out. He never used his ability to get inside someone's head. It was something he found obscene and tasteless. He would use his tongue to gossip unless some bloody wank cut it out of him.

Finally! He caught the serene girl on the arm, whirling her around. She began to scream but he clamped his hand firmly over her mouth, muting her. He tilted her head, staring at the expanse of creamy white flesh. Her neck was bare, her wide neckline leaving her exposed for any creature of the night to bite her with ease, and she didn't even know. Didn't believe in monsters.

Her heartbeat was frantic. He could hear it twittering like a bird's wings. It was so very clear. He doubted even the lass herself could hear it as well as he could. Her breathing was erratic, hitching in her throat and making her gulp. She had wide green eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. She really was a beauty.

Rhys felt himself giving in to this predatory instinct that was still so foreign to him. He swallowed hoarsely, taking in every feature from the toes of her vanilla boots jutting out from under her skirts to the embroidery of her frock and farther up to the swell of breasts displayed above her lacy collar. Her skin was already pale. She could pass for one of his kind.

His fingers skated over her chest and he whispered unintelligible words in her ear, trying to soothe her, calm her. Make her less panicked. He had to or the guilt would eat him alive.

She did seem to calm slightly, and he continued studying her. She was so very beautiful, but something still seemed familiar about her. He removed his hand from her mouth, giving her a warning look that commanded her not to scream. He did not feel like himself any longer. He felt truly awake, and he had yet to even feed.

"Hurry, pet. Sunrise is fast approaching," the whispered voice from the demon wench entered his mind once again. He scowled, glowering at her general direction, and he heard that sinister snicker of hers in his head. She was waiting for him to feed, waiting to report back to Kai.

Shaking his head, he looked at the girl leaning against him again. She was watching him, her eyes mostly captivated on his mouth, his fangs in particular. Her eyes widened even further, their green a brilliantly bright shade, enhanced by fear and yet he sensed recognition. Did he know of her kind?

Her pale cheeks were rosy at first but had drained of color. She was taking shallow breaths, all her weight leaning against him, though he didn't feel it. She was lighter than a feather, it seemed.

His fingertips still moved over her skin, dancing across the cheek turned to him, and she wrenched from his touch. His heart broke, but the demon inside him silenced whatever humanity was left in his unbeating heart. His hand moved down the column of her neck, sliding across her chest and down her side, on the underside of her breast. Her breathing stopped as Rhys explored his prey. Something about her...

The demon girl's mantra became like a steady drum in his mind. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!" Over and over he heard it, and he wished he could stake her or bite her to shut her up instead of this young chick. But, despite annoyances, he knew the wench was right. He needed to hurry. He needed to rid himself of Kai and fulfill his brother's demands.

Rhys's head sank closer to her neck, and he rested his cheek against her cool skin. Being the only other thing he'd ever bitten were fat hogs or old cows, he was entirely unsure of what to be done. Normally when he fed, the animals were too busy eating slop or hay to notice the quick sting of his fangs, and he always attempted to leave enough to keep the poor beasts alive, if not a bit weak for a few days.

But this was different. This young girl would have to be turned and... could he really do it to her? He doubted himself, the demon residing in his body where his soul once hid screamed that he could, and Rhys bared down on the girl, his fangs not but a centimeter above her smooth skin. He could smell her perfumes closer now, and the wisps of vanilla and honey were intoxicating. He could almost see the thrill that Kai oft talked about in great detail. The exotic lusciousness that came with feeding.

The lass screamed, then. She screamed loud, and he rattled his brain. He jerked away, holding onto her forearms and whipping her around to face him. She beat against his chest, still screaming. One carefully placed coil of hair had slipped its hold and it bounced around, slapping her face and sending scores of shadows across her features. She tried to pull herself away, but Rhys was much stronger, especially since he was almost completely in his true nature, accepting his blessing as Kai often said he had to do one way or another.

She was still screaming, her small fists pounding away at his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, stilling her. She was sobbing, and suddenly something gripped onto Rhys's conscience, pulling his rational judgment forward. He looked down at the lass in his arms, and he felt his fangs retracting. He couldn't do this.

That's when it hit him, the recognizing barreling into him like a mad horse.

"Sadie?" he whispered questioningly, his features softening, his eyes warming, though still rimmed red with hunger not yet sated. The girl stared in shock at him, and he felt she then remembered him.

"Rhys? Aren't you... you're one of them!" she hissed, finally succeeding in pulling away from his grip, though he had barely been holding on any longer. He'd not seen Sadie in years. She'd been the last girl Kai had entertained himself with before Cullen had changed him. The only time anyone could ever get Kai to show a true emotion was to mention Sadie. Rhys was certain he'd loved her, but she was staring at him in horror.

"You're just like him," she continued, muttering almost incoherently. "Just like Kai. You're both... how could you..." She was backing up rapidly, and she tripped, falling over and landing on the hard, black cement. Still she scrambled away as Rhys walked closer only to help her up. He held out his hand.

"Please. I'm sorry, Sadie. I didn't mean to... let me help you," he spoke, broken sentences trying to make amends for what he'd almost done. What he'd done. He should have let her go and damned the demon wench to rot in Hell's fire or tell Kai whatever she liked.

Sadie accepted his hand, pulling herself up, but she didn't stay around. She took off running down the sidewalk, throwing her gaze back over her shoulders every now and then, her hair now streaming behind her as pins lost their grips on the chocolate curls.

Rhys watched her back as she bolted away, sighing in defeat. Kai would have killed him for turning Sadie anyway, but still. He couldn't do it. It was too hard, but yet... too easy. He'd never given over that much into this side of him, this dark shadow of his spirit. He had never wanted to see what going to that place was like.

"It's Heaven," the demon wench whispered in his ear. She'd finally followed him, walking behind him, raking her blood red nails along his back from side to side. She laughed again, a snicker deep in her throat as she twisted her lips into a seductive smirk upon facing him again.

"Who are you?" Rhys asked. It was the first time one of Kai's own had done more than watch Rhys from the shadows. Laughing again, the girl stood up tiptoe, biting playfully at the tip of his chin.

"Sturla," she purred, rolling the R in her name. She had a heavy French accent. So, Kai was in France now?

"Did Kai send you?" Rhys asked again, repeating his question from earlier before he'd scared Sadie out of her mind. Sturla ran her finger over Rhys's nose and his lips, licking her own lips again and leaning in closer. She kissed the hollow of his throat, and he swallowed. What was her purpose?

Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her away, inhaling deeply to calm himself. She was beautiful, nothing like Sadie, who had the beauty of purity and of a soul in her that shone from her grass green eyes, but this Sturla had a different beauty unique to their kind. With high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes, and a pretty pout, she dripped seduction, and Rhys could easily be ensnared by her for at least a little while.

He repeated his question, and she laughed again, almost a childlike giggle. "Who is Kai?" she asked, revealing her fangs again when she smiled teasingly. Rhys narrowed his eyes.

"You don't know?" he hesitantly asked. He didn't trust this wench for a moment, but did that really matter? He had never been with a woman before Kai turned him and afterwards... he hid far too much. While opportunities arose, he quickly turned them down. He was an outcast in more ways than any man should possibly be.

Sturla arched her back, tilting her head back and rolling it side to side. She whimpered softly as she tried to massage the tension from her shoulders. Rhys lessened his grip on her arms, though everything in him told him not to.

She pressed herself against him, his chest pulled close against her breasts, and he stared at her, wondering what she was doing. What he was doing. What they were going to do. His brow furrowed, and he shook his head, leaning his head down. Sturla grabbed his collar and pulled herself up, dragging her body against his, which caused Rhys to growl deep in his throat, a reaction that sent Sturla sniggering once more.

Kissing his lips softly at first, Sturla soon took charge, kissing him more ardently. She wrapped her arms around his neck, twirling her fingers in his shaggy hair. He in turn put his hands on her waist and slowly began sliding them upwards. He was nervous, he mused, thankful he still had such an incompetent human emotion unlike most of their kind.

She shivered at his touch, though he wondered how she could feel his hands as she seemed to be wearing the outdated, stiff corset that most women had abandoned. Yet, she whispered his name and lightly raked her fangs across the sensitive skin of his neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make the involuntary growl all the louder.

He walked forward, pushing her backward until her back landed against the wall of a shop that was currently closed. If walls could talk he thought, smiling to himself as he kissed again, feeling his fangs once more grow in. Sturla kissed his lips, his cheeks, and trailed his jawbone, nibbling on his earlobe. Clearly more experienced than he, she still didn't seem to care.

His hand slid upward again moving to cup her firm breast when a whisper made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Hello, brother," the whisper goaded. Rhys's eyes opened and widened, and he tore himself from the harlot, pivoting around quickly and throwing his hands in his hair in frustration when no one was behind him.

Turning back around, he found Sturla simpering and pouting devilishly, tilting her head so her hair spilled forward over her chest, the tresses billowing in the wind. "What's wrong, pet?" she cooed, walking forward and placing her hands on his chest again, kissing his stubble-ridden jaw lightly. Rhys pushed her away, but she ignored him, continuing to come back and press herself against him seductively. Rhys swallowed, closing his eyes to gather strength.

Another whisper in Kai's voice floated through his mind, and he reached up, gripping Sturla's shoulders, holding her away at arm's length.

"You don't wish to play, pet?" she asked, purring her words in her deep accent. Rhys curtly shook his head once.

"You are a liar," he informed her. Sturla's eyes widened and she put on a front of being deeply offended. Rhys didn't believe her. "You knew Kai all along. You're one of his sires. I should have noticed it before. I can smell it all over you, wench," he menacingly growled, throwing her to the side.

She winced, landing on her hip and gazed up at him, still pouting. Rhys stalked away, not daring to look back, even when Sturla tried to goad him once more.

"Kai will know all about this, pet. Just wait. He will know how you behaved with his Sadie. You best hurry, pet. Hurry, hurry, hurry." Her maniacal laughter was the last Rhys heard as he ran faster to escape the spy.

He would never have a moment's peace with his brother's command unfulfilled.

He slowly sauntered away, dropping his shoulders and hanging his head. He ran a tired hand over his face. He felt much older than he was. Worry was not helping him in the slightest. He stumbled through the doorway of the abandoned shop he had made his home and fell on the pile of old rags he'd fashioned into a bed. His eyes immediately closed and sleep overcame him.

The next evening, he awoke just as the sun was setting. Stepping outside, but keeping in the shadows as always, he heard a rustle behind him. Quickly turning around from paranoia, he realized it was a paper attached to the wall of the building across from his empty home.

The wind grew worse, as did the rustling of the paper, and the sound began annoying Rhys. Everything was annoying Rhys lately, especially after the failed attempt with Sadie and then the traitorous, wily Sturla. He stalked over to the paper, slapping it back against the brick to still it, though it didn't stay. It began flapping once more, and Rhys studied it, seeing a black and white picture of a beautiful ship adorning half the yellowed paper.

Looking closer, he read about the Empress of Ireland, going from Canada to Liverpool. He scratched his chin, pondering. Walking back to his hovel, he took up his satchel, reaching in it and taking out the small coin purse. Quickly counting up the glittering coins, he realized he had just enough for a ticket upon this Empress.

He glanced at the dates, realizing that this was a recent advertisement, and that the Empress set sail very soon. Too soon. Gathering his things, Rhys did the first impulsive thing he'd done in a long while and ran off to purchase a ticket.

November 14th marked the weather beginning to turn cold once more. Rhys blew on his hands, not to keep warm, but to appear normal as he bustled through the busy streets and made his way to the docks. He was able to stay out longer now as the sun set much earlier and the city nearly always had a look of twilight about it, making him safe. He hadn't eaten in four days, and that had been two rats he'd found in his, now abandoned once more, temporary home. They'd tasted sodding awful.

Upon first glimpse at the Empress, Rhys stopped in his tracks. He was shocked beyond comparison at the enormity of the ship. She was beautiful. A glistening black hull with many windows lining her side. And she would set sail today, and nothing on Earth would stop him from being on it.

Some wrenching feeling in his gut told him to be on this ship. He wagered, though, that if for no other reason, he could at least go back to his old home for a little while. Liverpool was not far from where he and Kai had grown up. He could run there in a night's time once The Empress made it to its final destination.

And maybe, just maybe, he could allude Kai if only for a little while.

He hurriedly walked up the makeshift stairs, his satchel slung over his shoulder. He was infatuated. The briny smell of the salty sea filled his senses, and he could do nothing but stare at the ship before him.

"Hey! Hey you! Wait!" a man called out after him as he passed. He bumped into a young lass standing there with her small family, and she stared after him, but he barely registered her. The man continued shouting for him to hold on, but Rhys ignored him, waving him off over his shoulder. He climbed aboard, taking in the site of the deck.

It was polished, shining in the pale sunlight that managed to get through the clouds. Rhys pulled his chapeau down lower over his face to hide himself from the sun's dangerous rays.

He fished his ticket out of his pocket, searching for his room number. He was in the third class, the lowest passenger level. He saw a stairway leading down and quickly ran to it. He finally felt alive, or as close to alive as he could. He barreled down the stairs, eager to get to his room. Something told him he'd never see Kai again. Never have to worry about his older brother constantly there to make his life a living tormenting hell. And, he was happier than he had been in a long while.

Ugh. What happened to me? Wednesday and Thursday? Ex-nay on the iting-wray.

Seriously. It's day eleven? (Well, it's actually day twelve, but I haven't went to sleep yet for day eleven, so we're calling it day eleven still... losers) When the hell did that happen to me? So, my word count as of now? 13,611. I know, I know. I'm SORELY behind. (Try 7,726 words behind, to be exact.)

BUT. I wrote A LOT today. Well, not a lot, but I wrote nearly 5,000 words, which... is a lot for me. Considering I haven't written that much in one day in awhile.

I also drank six cups of coffee, so I am WIRED AS ANYTHING.

But. Yes. I WILL (try to) get caught up tomorrow. I SWEAR IT.

So. Tomorrow I need to write 9,393 words. It's... possible. I highly doubt I will do that, in all honesty, but it IS possible. I plan to at least write seven thousand tomorrow.

Hopefully.

I know I'm going to write all of chapter four tomorrow 'cause I've been positively ITCHING to write for chapter four.

EDIT: I totally did my math wrong. I've gotta write 6,393 words tomorrow. I THOUGHT that first number sounded too high for the math I originally did. This sounds much better, yus. And much more do-able.

Anyway. Enough of my blabber. Here's my latest bit.

------------------------

Chapter three: Extraordinarily Ordinary

Her chest ached. Crystin Sanders was sick of all the running around. Everything was so busy now. What happened to just a year prior? What happened to when life wasn't all about this war? This "Great War" as people were oft to call it.

She shook her head, sucking in much needed air. Her lungs burned and felt to be shrinking in her chest. She put a hand to her chest, feeling her twittering heartbeat, much too fast it seemed. Her brow furrowed at her heart's quick pace. Could her heart give out from the sheer exhaustion?

She brushed some loose blonde hairs that had escaped her long plait clumsily out of her face with her forearm and stopped near the top of the hill, setting down the heavy wooden buckets she had been carrying. She sat, drawing her knees to her chest, as she continued to attempt to breathe in deeply.

Her breath was raspy and came in short puffs. She thought she could see her exhaled breath come out in short puffs just as a cold shiver ran down her spine, raising her skin in tiny goose bumps. Though, the rational part of her mind -- often silenced by her worries and fears -- knew that it was the first day of August. It was summer, and had been a particularly blisteringly hot summer to boot. There wasn't any way she could be this cold. But, she was.

Breathing finally becoming normal once more, she turned around and glanced at the brick well at the top of the hill. It oft reminded her of that poem her mother told her when she was little. Jack and Jill went up the hill...

She froze in fear, remembering the end. Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after. Pivoting around at the waist, she stared at the hill below her. It seemed to roll on forever, grass swaying in the slight summer breeze. Her skirt swayed as well, the plain brown cloth whipping around her ankles. Though she was sitting, she gripped on the grass under her hands tight, holding onto the ground. She suddenly felt as if the hill would fall out from under her, and she, too, would go tumbling down.

Swallowing, she shook her head, feeling her lungs constrict once more. The town physician said she had asthma and also suffered from hysteria. Her breath came in short gasps, and she hugged her knees tighter to herself, forcing herself to calm down and just breathe. She would not fall; the hill wasn't even very steep. There was no way she could fall and hurt herself, break a leg or an arm, or worse, her neck.

Her stomach roiled at that last thought, and it became even harder to catch a decent breath. She gave up hunching over to keep herself tight together and let the attack pass. She laid back on the bright green grass, still wet with morning dew, and spread out her arms, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as the doctor had demonstrated for her to do.

Catching her breath became hopeless. She was too afraid. She was going to die from the attack; she was only eighteen. Please God, she thought, her eyes nearly welling up with tears, don't let me die. Her heart was beating faster in her chest, which was feeling so incredibly tight that she just knew her heart would explode, and she would bleed to death.

The grass under bare neck and the palms of her hands itched terribly. She thought of the red bugs her mother oft warned her about, the kind that crawled on a person and dug into their skin. Crystin blanched, thinking of the scalding hot needle her mother would need to use to dig the hideous insect out.

The itching steadily grew worse, as did the attack, and she quickly jumped up, shaking from lack of air and from the imaginary bugs she now felt crawling all over her skin. She began crying as her asthma grew worse, making it so she gulped fruitlessly at the stinging air, and she scratched at her neck and shoulders until her skin began turning red.

She jumped as she accidentally kicked over one of the buckets and watched it tumble down the hill. Her eyes grew wide. Her chest hurt so much. She wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself. Her mouth was dry. What little air she managed to claw into her lungs tasted sour and cold and hurt to breathe.

Feeling extremely lightheaded, she sat down again, clutching at earth and hoping the dizziness would pass. It didn't. She fell backwards, passing out on the hill.

What seemed like hours later, but was thankfully only a few moments, Crystin awoke to sharp slaps on her face from a chubby, eight-year-old hand. Her eyes shot open and she gasped, quickly realizing she could, thankfully, breathe normal again. She looked straight up into the mischievous brown eyes of her younger sister, Elsie, and sat up, putting a hand to her forehead and massaging her skull thoughtfully.

"How long?" she asked simply. Elsie shrugged, smiling lightheartedly.

"I 'unno. Maybe a few minutes. Peter found you and called me over to come see," she explained, grinning. Crystin halfway smiled, leading Elsie on. Peter was Elsie's imaginary playmate and had been for five years now. The rest of the family became used to it.

"Are Mother and Father worried?" she questioned, her eyebrows furrowing in worry. She sniffed and thought her throat felt sore. Was she catching ill? Before she could go into another attack of hysteria, Elsie stood, tugging Crystin's arm.

"They wanted to know where you were. They sent me to look for you," she answered. Crystin blushed. She hated being caught panicking. But she had to be getting sick! Even as she sat there, her stomach roiled and she felt like retching where she sat.

Yet she pushed herself up. Elsie handed her a bucket, still smiling merrily. Her little sister had no problems. She was carefree. She didn't even know there was a war. Shaking her head, Crystin climbed the rest of the hill with Elsie clambering up behind her, each holding a bucket. Filling the buckets, they made it back down to even ground, and Crystin exhaled in relief.

Crystin walked slowly behind Elsie down the dirt path leading to their moderately small house. While their family was not rich as most and therefore dressed more subdued and lived in a smaller home than was normal, they were not considered poor, though many high class people throughout their province, British Colombia, snubbed them for not living in grandeur, whether it be real or false.

Crystin and Elsie walked through the door leading into their dining room. Elsie's bucket was considerably lighter as much of the water had sloshed out of her bucket as she skipped down the path, kicking dust up behind her, which made Crystin have to slow to catch her breath all the more often.

Their mother and father sat at the oaken table looking at the piece of paper their father had received just days prior from the hands of a uniformed soldier. Though forty-two, the army apparently thought Joseph Sanders was fit enough to join the other much younger men deporting from Canada to fight this "Great War" that was far from great in Crystin's eyes.

Fianna, their mother, looked up. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a bun, her dark brown eyes wide with fatigue and worry. Crystin always thought her mother was beautiful in an unconventional way. After having two children, she was a little plumper than other women, but it didn’t detract from her beauty. She had big eyes and a warm smile, and her hair always fell down her back in waves whenever she let it down.

Even now with Joseph being suddenly called to duty and her head filled with worry, Fianna still carried herself with grace. She gazed up at her oldest daughter while Crystin sat down her bucket of water near the basin.

“How do you fare?” Fianna asked as Joseph finally looked up from the paper. “Did you have an attack?”

Crystin shook her head, smiling in reassurance. “No, I’m fine. I was merely daydreaming,” she answered. While her English accent was no where near as heavy as her parents, her speech still rolled with the smooth speech of her native tongue.

When Fianna was pregnant with Elsie, the family had moved from their home in London to come to America. It was everyone’s dream, but mostly they wanted some good American doctors to see what was really wrong with Crystin. Though, Crystin didn’t believe their diagnosis of hysteria. Hysteria seemed so unbelievable and made her appear insane, which she was very much far from. She was just sickly. That was all.

Her mother had been speaking, Crystin realized, as she pulled herself from her thoughts. There was something their father needed to tell Elsie and she, she had said. Both Crystin and Elsie sat down at the small table, staring with worry and curiosity at their father.

The crinkles at the corners of Joseph’s eyes rose as he smiled at his two daughters. They looked so much like their mother, and they both had lives here. Especially Elsie. She knew nothing else but this house in this province. He hated to do this to them.

“We must leave,” he whispered for fear the very walls would hear and run to the army to tell of his plan. “I sent a letter to your Uncle in London. I’ve asked him to let us return to London and stay in his home until the end of the war. We await his answer, though I am fairly certain he will oblige.” Elsie was pouting, her lower lip trembling, and it broke Joseph’s heart. He cupped her cheek. “This war shan’t last long. We’ll be home before you miss it.”

Crystin grabbed at the small golden cross hanging from around her neck while Elsie choked out, “I miss it already” in a petulant voice that made Joseph’s job all the harder. Crystin, sensing this, wrapped an arm around Elsie, hugging her close, while Joseph continued.

“You can’t speak a word of this to anyone. Not a soul. Not even your best of friends. Tell them we are taking a holiday. Tell them anything you like except the truth. If a breath of this reaches the ears of someone important, they might ki--” he paused, backtracking as Elsie’s eyes began to grow wide. “Bad things might happen,” he concluded, hoping to have spared Elsie from knowing the true horrors of what this war could bring to her close-knit family.

Crystin nodded once, knowing it would be easy to not tell anyone for she had no one to tell. Crystin was too shy, too quiet, too interested in her books or her dreams to have earned a friend or two in all the ten years they had lived her. She pitied Elsie, though. While, of course, Peter would know as soon as Elsie was out of sight of her parents, there were some little girls who had taken a liking to Elsie years ago and stuck by her. Elsie would be hard pressed to keep the family’s secret from them.

Crystin stared out the window, letting everything sink in. As if on cue, the white clouds in the bright blue sky from just moments earlier were steadily growing grayer to match her mood. It would rain soon, possibly while she was deciding just what to pack.

As the two sisters got up from the table to leave, Joseph grabbed Crystin’s arm, silently and gently holding her back until Elsie crossed the threshold between the dining room and the foyer, and then further on still to their girls’ shared bedroom. He tugged Crystin around, and she sat once more, staring at Joseph and Fianna in willful silence. Sometimes they wished their daughter was more outspoken, for she had to know what they were going to bring up once again - her true illness and her many, many imagined ones.

“There is a ship setting sail in fourteen days,” Joseph began. Crystin nodded. “It’s the Empress of Ireland. It leaves Quebec and heads to Liverpool. I’ve purchased third class tickets for each of us. Whether a letter arrives from your uncle or not, we will be on that ship.” He paused, looking Crystin directly in the eye. “We have to make it to England.”

Again Crystin nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Didn’t her father remember the Titanic? The unsinkable ship that sank, ending so many lives? Ships could not be trusted; they were dangerous! Crystin felt another attack coming on, her palms tingling and feeling numb at the same time, and her breathing became erratic.

Fianna hurriedly reached forward, cupping her daughter’s face. “Stop it, Crystin!” she ordered in an entirely different voice than normal, but it worked. Crystin focused on her mother, and her breathing slowed to normal as she regained feeling in her limbs and stopped hearing her blood rushing in her ears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, ducking her head and wringing her hands. She was a fool, plain and simple. An ordinary, unnoticeable fool. Fianna clucked her tongue, caressing Crystin’s cheek.

“It’s all right. It will always be all right,” Fianna comforted before leaving the room, giving father and daughter a moment of privacy.

Joseph, patiently waiting and silently watching the entire time, cleared his throat and continued. “They check for illnesses of most every passenger before they can board,” he paused. “They are especially strict about this. They don’t want any crew catching ill from a traveler and not being able to perform his duties.”

Crystin swallowed. She knew what her father was about to say. She could see the unmasked disappointment in his eyes... or was it shame? Shame that he even had to be telling her this? Angry that it was wasting time in which they could prepare?

Though, what more can we do to prepare this early? We’ve yet to receive an answer, and we won’t be allowed much baggage. Just a few cases. There’s nothing to do this early, she thought, confused.

“No matter what you may be thinking,” Joseph continued once more, “you have to tell them there is nothing wrong with you.” His voice grew stern. “There is nothing wrong with you.” His features softened once more as he asked, “You understand, lass?”

Crystin nodded before vehemently protesting. “But, the doctors said... I do have asthma,” she preached, her voice rising in octaves.

Joseph leaned forward and quickly kissed her forehead, smoothing back her hair and tugging out a stray leaf that had stayed stuck in from when she’d collapsed on the hill. He smiled at her, briefly, before his lips creased into a thin, haggard line.

“You have to tell them there is nothing wrong with you. Even for something as you not catching you breath easily -- they might not let you on board because of it. And, Crystin... I couldn’t... I don’t know what I’d do. I wouldn’t be able to leave you,” he confirmed. Crystin sniffed back the tears that were stinging her eyes and making her skin feel hot.

“What if... what if I have an attack? I can’t hide it then,” she whispered, afraid that she might be left behind while her family left her to wait out the war in London.

“You won’t. You won’t; I promise. I’ll be there with you the entire time. It’s just an inspection -- a few pokes and prods, and they will pass you; I’m sure of it,” he rumbled, a deep, determined fire growing in him that spread to Crystin, as well, making her finally feel comforted.

It had been a long day. She nearly chuckled at the thought. Though, somewhere deep in her gut, she knew that not even her father could promise her something like that. The future wasn’t certain.

Twelve days later, on the eve of the Empress’s departure, the Sanders received a letter from their uncle, understanding Joseph’s plight and welcoming them into his home. He was rich and owned a fine house with plenty of bedrooms, he confirmed, and he couldn’t wait to see his grand-nieces again. Or, in Elsie’s case, for the first time.

Crystin barely remembered her great-uncle, she thought while she packed her trifle belongings. They packed three suitcases in all, one for Crystin and Elsie’s belongings, another for clothing and important papers they would need later, and the last for trinkets around the house that they would not see for a long time.

She did remember, though, that he always strongly smelled of tobacco and gin. It was his habit to smoke a pipe and have a glass of gin before going to bed each night. She didn’t altogether hate the smell, as faint as it was in her memory. She halfway felt as if she were going home.

Home to what? she wondered. Surely no one remembered her. The girls she had attended finishing school with from ages five to eight would have long forgotten her by now. Even if they did remember me, it would be as the clumsy girl who couldn’t dance, washed her hands far too often, and obsessively examined herself with a hand mirror each night to make sure the itching and swelling she felt wasn’t a terrible disease coming on but all in her imagination.

She shoved the book she was putting in the suitcase far too hard, its binding creaking in protest. She inhaled, calming down. Lately, anything could trigger an attack, not just sudden exercise or how much the wind was blowing outdoors. Calm, she moved to her drawers, taking out a few folded up dresses in drab colors, brown, navy blue, and a charcoal gray, and placing them in the luggage.

She sat on the small bed atop the quilt Fianna had given her on her ninth birthday. Fianna was currently working on another for Elsie’s birthday, soon to roll around, shocking everyone with just how old she was getting. Though, she rarely acted her age, and for that, the rest of the family was glad. She didn’t need to grow up too fast.

Crystin stared at herself in the large mirror on top of the dresser for a long time, pulling up a leg to her chest and resting her chin on her knee. Her flashing green eyes, a mixture of her mother’s brown and her father’s blue were her only prominent feature. She was plain, she decided.

She was of normal height, she supposed, shorter than most men, but slightly taller than most women. She always averaged on the thin side, not having the curves her mother was given, nor having the breasts most women boasted with their provocative necklines.

Sighing, she blew a strand of her long blonde hair out of her eyes. It was always coming down from the plait she carefully constructed every morning. It started just at her crown and continued weaving together all the way down to the small of her back. She had never cut her hair, opting to keep it long and flowing like her mother’s. A pair of scissors lay forgotten on her dresser, and for a single moment, she was tempted to sheer her hair off at the shoulders -- to do something bold, something daring.

But then, her cursed fear kicked in. She damned herself on the inside for her paranoid thoughts. What if the scissors broke and an edge sliced her wrist, causing her to bleed to death? What then? She grumbled to herself, glowering at her reflection. How she longed to be beautiful and to possess a dynamic persona that drew people to her!

But she was far from that. It wasn’t what she was meant to be. She took her eyes from the gleaming mirror and focused on the small pile of books she wished to pack. Elsie came in carrying an armful of dolls, some bought from shops while others were handmade by either Crystin or Fianna for various birthdays or special occasions.

“Do we have room for all of these?” Elsie asked, her mouth curving down into her famous pout. Crystin lightly smiled, just barely lifting the corner of her mouth as she took one last glance at the dolls.

“We can’t fit them all, Elsie. You must pick your favorite five and leave the rest here for when we return,” she explained. Elsie seemed saddened by this fact until she spied Crystin’s pile of books.

“Why do you get to have so many books?” she accused, her cute pout turning into an angry, childish scowl. Crystin quickly tried to soothe the situation. Elsie was a beast to manage when something upset her.

“I don’t. I’m trying to pick my very favorites. These are just all the ones I’m choosing one. How about you choose your dolls while I choose my books, and then we’ll put them in the luggage at the same time?” Crystin proposed, hoping to pacify her smaller sister. Elsie cheered up, knowing it was even between she and her older sibling, and scurried off to her side of the room, clutching her pile of dolls tight to her chest.

Crystin turned away from Elsie, hearing occasional mumblings of “Sarah, you can come. I’m sorry, Juliette, but your eye is missing, and the inspectioners won’t let you come if your eye is missing. Peter can come and Mrs. Shipley as well because she can serve excellent tea and crumpets...” The childish babble never ceased.

However, Crystin was excellent at tuning Elsie out, focusing on her small stack of books. She quickly sorted through the titles, having read every book several times, and picked her five favorites, one being Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. How she longed to be Juliet in such a very romantic tale. There was a girl who was looked at and admired with every step she took.

The following day, early in the morning, the small family stood huddled together. The morning wind was nippy, whipping at their faces and twirling their hair in the air. Crystin wrapped her coat tighter about her, while Fianna held Elsie in front of her, gripping onto her shoulders so she wouldn’t run off. Elsie had a tendency to go exploring in the worst of situations.

“Next!” an older man called, waving to them to come forward. He had on a thick coat that looked incredibly warm, and he was balding, white hair crowning his head. His eyes squinted behind thick, wire-rimmed spectacles as he stared at the information Joseph handed him. He looked up at the family, all scrubbed clean and appearing slightly better off than they were.

He nodded, grunting to himself, and checked them all out, throat, ears, eyes, nose, and every other possible opening on their heads he could get to. He then checked their hair for lice, finding none, and seemed satisfied before Crystin coughed softly. She threw her hand over her mouth, her eyes growing wide.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, his voice gruff and unfriendly. He didn’t care what was wrong with her at all. All he cared about was how he was holding him up from clearing the family so he could move on to the next set of seafaring souls.

Crystin shook her head, mumbling, “Nothing,” under her breath. Though, she coughed again. The sharp morning air was getting to her, and she felt the familiar squeeze of her ribs as her lungs tightened and forcefully expanded against her rib cage, the entire act feeling entirely too unnatural.

“Her throat is dry from this wind. That’s why she’s coughing,” Joseph jumped to explain, pulling the doctor’s steady gaze from Crystin, who was trying to breathe through the attack as her doctor had taught her to do.

The inspection doctor quickly glanced between Joseph, whose face betrayed nothing, to Crystin, who was stifling her coughs as quickly as they had came. He nodded, pursing his lips, and stamped their papers with a red stamp that read CLEARED.

Joseph took the bundle of papers, thanking the doctor, who waved him off, and they all collectively turned to face the massive ship. Elsie gasped, her head tilting up as far as it could to take in the entire ship. The Empress of Ireland was grand. Nothing to compare to the Titanic, the ship that would not sink, but it was beautiful in its grandeur. To Crystin, nothing could compare.

She let her mind wander, enjoying scenes of ballroom dancing and golden silverware and sauce plates. She was in a fancy gown that flared out at her hips and pushed her breasts up. Her hair was down and flowing instead of in a plate while lipstick and rouge adorned her face, along with glimmering earrings and a string of pearls around her neck.

Joseph tugged her sleeve, pulling her along. She grabbed hers and Elsie’s baggage and they walked up the angled board, stepping onto the starboard deck of the Empress. Passengers bustled around, handing their baggage to attendants and removing fur coats as they walked through the doorway of what could only be a magnificent reception area. Crystin’s eyes widened before a large lady with several crude rings on her fingers and a large feather in her deep purple cap bumped into her.

Looking down her nose at Crystin, she sneered, her lips curling up in an unattractive way. “You’re third class,” she stated, eyeing Crystin’s brown dress. Though she had tried to make it a little better by tying a bright blue ribbon around the waistline, just under her breasts, it didn’t help this one woman’s opinion. Crystin’s head hung and she stared at the toes of her black shoes, just visible beneath the hemline of her dress.

The woman sniffed the air arrogantly and pivoted around, not saying another word. Crystin caught up with her family, following them down two sets of stairs to Third Class, a long white hall with doors on each side. They searched for their cabin number, finally finding it, and went into the tiny room where two beds had been forced inside side-by-side and a single dresser held two drawers, though they only opened halfway due to the beds restricting them access to open any further.

Collectively, the family sighed. It would do. Joseph’s plan was working, and Crystin had passed the inspection. Mayhap not with flying colors, but she had passed. And she vowed, then and there, to hardly stay in this tiny cabin. She would spend her days on the deck as much as possible, no matter who said what, and wander around. How many chances like this would she get in her life?

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Feedback is more than welcome!

So, day seven. I have been trying to get caught up. My current word count? 9,115. That's not too bad. I'm only somewhere around 2,000 words behind.

I finished chapter two today. This post continues straight from the last entry. Feedback is welcome.

I also apologize for not italicizing thoughts or stressed words in here. While it is formatted in my Works document, I just didn't feel like bothering with more HTML than was needed for this. Oh, and some of my descriptions should have dashes between them (ie: white-hot), but... I wanted to up my word count, heh, so a few times I left the dashes out. They'll be put back in in editing, starting December 1st. No worries!

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Chapter two: Turning Point, post two

The horse’s bark brown mane waved and twirled in the air, nearly slapping Kai in the face. The wind stung his eyes, and he kept low to the horse’s back, tightly tugging the thick leather reins, slapping the red-haired back to keep up the lightning pace.

Several miles of nothing but dirt road and trees blurred past his peripheral vision, dust kicking up and drying his skin. Finally, Kai reached the town. Twin lines of buildings lay before him. A definite difference between the old and the new, he noticed, as he saw some of the older stores with the false fronts covering the smaller buildings. Ironically, they were sometimes stuck between the newer buildings, maroon brick and more than one level.

Trees still stood between the buildings, shading the edges of the muddy roads. Kai slowed his horse, pulling hard on the reins, which caused the horse to throw her head back and snort in protest. Her body was sheen with sweat and thin white foam had gathered at her mouth from her lack of rest.

He slid from her back smoothly, though his muscles in his thighs and the backs of his legs throbbed from soreness. It had been awhile since he’d ridden, and he scowled. If he’d not been a farmer’s son and had his father not spent their coin on drink, they maybe would have afforded a carriage and maybe a house within the town so as to be closer to the accursed doctor.

Kai had no idea of the doctor’s appearance so to find him as well as no clue of the location of the hotel or library where he might find Rhys. Of course, it was not a guarantee that his younger brother was at either place. He could have boarded with a fellow scholar – an alchemist or experimenter or magistrate. He might have even been with a religious man for all Kai knew.

Once again, Kai scowled, grumbling to himself. Being bitter led Kai to hate many things, including the Lord – especially God. What, he thought, has God ever done for me? After all, God had permitted Kai to be born to a drunken father and a mother who could not, would not, make him stop.

Though, Kai didn’t care. At least, he forced himself not to care. The image of his mother, deathly pale, and the blood on the stark white gown and smeared on the floor seared his mind, and he tied his horse to the bare branch of a tree and began to slowly jog through the small town, examining every face for Rhys or someone who looked like a doctor. He had to hurry.

Luck was with him. In the center of the town, a sign hung down from the overhand of a small wooden building that read KELL LANGSTON, M.D. It swung on the chains that suspended it and Kai took a deep breath of relief. If he weren't eternally angry at God, he would have gotten on his knees right in the mud of the street and thanked the Lord for providence of a small town, though normally he cursed that fact.

Kai knocked on the door, but no one answered. He began to beat furiously calling for the doctor to hurry. A few stragglers stopped to stare at him as if he were completely off in his mind before shaking their heads and quickly walking away.

Eventually, he gave up being courteous and began rattling the knob. It twisted and opened easily in his palm, and he stared down at it as the door swung open. The doctor's office was immaculately clean from ceiling to floor. A neat stack of papers sat on a desk along with an ink well and a pen.

His eyes hurriedly roved over every inch of the first room. A door in the back was slightly ajar, and he shoved through, bumping against a wooden chair that scraped noisily against the floorboards. Again the image of the blood on the floor haunted Kai.

Without thinking, he headed to the back room. It was dark and smelled of medicine. Screwing up his features, he tried not to breathe. He always hated that smell. He searched for a lamp, but the only one he found had fallen, the glass shattering and the oil slowly pooling around it. Kai ignored it, only thinking that this doctor must be a clumsy old fool, and continued his search.

A noise, a shuffle of feet, came from a shadowed corner to Kai's right. He turned, hesitantly walking forward. A shiver of fear instantly crawled up his spine, and he scowled. What was there to be afraid of? Wasn't he much too old to humor thoughts of monsters and things that go bump in the night?

Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, he reached for the small blade he always kept in the pocket of his breeches and unsheathed it, holding it in front of him. Another sound was heard, this time a grunt and a moan that sounded like someone were in pain. What was happening?

A shadow flowed like liquid away, and Kai heard something heavy fall to the floor. He bumped into a desk and finally noticed a small oil lamp. Lighting the lamp, he moved closer to the corner. The slumped form of a plump balding man lay crumpled in a haphazard position on the floor. Kai smelled the air again and couldn't ignore the heady scent of blood rising to his senses on the stagnant air.

Prodding the older man, he turned him over, discovering the ashen, wrinkled face and wide, gray eyes. His chest was still, his mouth slightly agape. Every feature of the old man screamed horror, and Kai's brow furrowed.

Looking into the lapel of the man's jacket, he found a worn handkerchief. A monogrammed name was sewn into the corner, and he squinted in the poor lighting, but managed to make out the name.

"Kell Langston," he whispered out loud, his lips barely moving.

"You can read. An improvement over most," a silky, baritone voice stated, almost jovially. Kai whipped around and stood, coming eye level with a too calm man. Kai blinked once, twice. Who the bloody hell was this man?

He glanced from the mysterious man before him to the dead doctor at their feet. Glaring up at the man, Kai snarled, "You killed him!" He was shocked, his palm sweaty around the tight grip it had on the handle of his knife. He felt almost silly holding a knife when this man before him held no visible weapon of all and had yet killed the doctor with apparently little effort as he barely looked ruffled.

He was too pale, Kai noticed, though his lips were a deep cherry red, almost appearing stained. His eyes were a cold, foggy blue, and his hair was a white blonde that reminded Kai of white-hot lightning during a thunderstorm. He appeared relatively young -- younger than Kai's father, yet older than Kai himself. Though, he seemed to possess many more years about him than his appearance answered to. Kai cocked his head to the left, curiosity getting the best of him. He jutted his chin towards the man in recognition.

"Who do you be?" he questioned gruffly, the words nearly coming out as unintelligible growls. The man before him smirked.

"I am Cain," he answered directly. He noticed something different about the young man before him. He could hardly be twenty at most, but the aura of yearning and bitter entrapment seeped from him in waves. It pleased Cain. This young man reminded him so of himself when he had been human.

Locking eyes with Kai was easy, Cain noticed. The young man was already fascinated. He masked it with disgust, but this man had a logical head on him -- the doctor was not someone he knew, and therefore he would not be bothered by the old man's passing on, even if it involved slaughter. What was one human, though? Weak things. Cain had forgone human life long before, invoking a sacred black spell that, should he die, he would rise from the grave, a new creature.

"I could give you what you seek," Cain whispered, his voice thick and permeating, filling all of Kai's senses. Kai shook his head, not quite sure what was going on, but he could not look away from the Cain's face. But, Kai was sure this man, whoever he was, could not give him what he desired. He could not help him escape the prison of being a farmer's son and having duties thrust on him -- duties he'd never wanted, never would want. Kai wanted exploration. He wanted to meet exotic women and taste spices and see new places. Rhys would read aloud excerpts from books on foreign countries and it only wetted Kai's appetite all the more. But this man, this Cain, could not give him that. He was only one man, after all.

Kai voiced his opinion. "You can't," he countered, narrowing his eyes slightly, but never blinking. Cain smirked once more, his lips turning up just enough to reveal the pointed tip of a fang that Kai had yet to notice until now. His eyes widened quickly. Maybe he was more than one single man. Kai could hear the blood flowing through his veins. Everything seemed hypersensitive to him, though it did not compare to what Cain sensed.

Cain clearly heard every heartbeat in the human's chest. It was intoxicating, the life emanating from this one soul. Cain shook his head and clucked his tongue ever so slightly that Kai thought he imagined it. Yet, he felt scolded.

Cain took one step over and leaned into Kai's ear. "I can give you immortality so that you have as long as you want to be whoever you want," he whispered, his words seducing Kai's thoughts. However this man was reading his mind, Kai concluded, he was right on the mark.

He turned his head to get a better look at the enigma to his side, and just as he turned his head, baring his throat, Cain struck, lowering his mouth to the crook of Kai's neck. Some guttural part of Kai's mind told him that what Cain was doing was wrong and would probably kill him, but he didn't listen. Logic unbeknownst to him as he winced and stiffened when Cain's sharp fangs pierced his skin, and Cain drank.

Kai stumbled backwards, tripping and nearly falling over the doctor's corpse, but Cain steadied him. Kai was shocked by the strength as Cain only had his hand wrapped around Kai's forearm, yet he managed to hold Kai up. A blinding pain coursed through Kai's bloodstream, through, it seemed, the very core of his body. He groaned, his back hitting the wall, a second steady brace joining Cain's hand on his arm. A warm liquid trickled down his chest, staining his white shirt red. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up, and hoped the pain would end.

He tried to lift an arm to push Cain away. He felt five-years-old again. This hurt, too much. Whatever Cain promised, he didn't care -- didn't want it. He wanted Cain to stop whatever he was doing. It seemed the inhuman man, for he could never be human, was feasting on Kai's very blood, his very life. Kai felt lightheaded, the muscles in his neck and shoulder numb.

Finally, Cain withdrew. After so many years of walking this world, he still had the miniscule problem of being able to stop before all the blood ran dry. Sometimes he did not succeed, but the thought didn't perturb him. Every healthy man needed his supper, and Cain was sure to take his.

Cain stared at Kai, who was pale and flushed and feeling the icy grip of death in his breast. Kai shivered, slumping down until his legs were sprawled out before him. He slid down, ready to welcome Death, to give up. Cain frowned. How strong this lad had seemed only moments earlier. He supposed it was rationale to expect that the boy would react this way. He had not warned him, naturally. Though, he didn't dare claim to remember his own changing. He was the first and it went far different for him than for the others. But he did not recall. That had been many years ago.

He paused in his recollection and dabbed at the corner of his mouth and licked the tip of his finger clean, running his tongue over his piercing fangs and his bottom lip to gather up the remains of young man's blood. He tasted good, Cain noted, smiling benevolently down at his victim.

He crouched down beside Kai, taking the doctor's crumpled handkerchief from Kai's tight fist and used it to wipe clean the remaining blood that slowly seeped from the two tiny punctures in Kai's neck. He then looked in Kai's other hand, balled into a fist like the other against the previous pain, and pulled the knife out of Kai's grip. Cain smiled; he liked conveniences.

Using the knife, he cut a small, straight line on the side of his neck, wincing ever so slightly as the cold metal touched his milk-white skin. He roused Kai to consciousness by touching the bite marks with the tip of his finger, knowing the pain that echoed through his veins from the touch would wake him far more effectively than tapping his cheek or fetching smelling salts from the doctor's bag.

Kai's eyes shot open, and he stared up at Cain in revulsion. Cain grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled Kai to him, ordering a swift command for him to drink or die as he put Kai's mouth to the cut on his neck.

Kai drank for a long minute, though unlike the pain that coursed through his system when Cain took blood from him, Cain only felt a humming through his veins, his skin tingling. It felt like fine-tuning an instrument and was almost as natural to Cain as breathing, though Cain hadn't needed to breathe in hundreds of years.

Abruptly, Kai faltered, the foreign blood entering his body and filling him with something completely different. He sat back, staring blankly at Cain while putting his hand over his chest. His heart was laboring to beat, and it was a struggle to expand his lungs and take a breath.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he felt his heart stop, his breathing slow then cease. His body became very still, and Cain patiently waited, watching Kai slowly begin to stir once more. Kai swallowed thickly and inhaled, though he needn't bother himself with doing that any longer.

He awoke suddenly, springing up, crouching defensively. He snarled in an animalistic way, his new fangs cutting his bottom lip. He was hungry.

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So, it's day six. I think the most I wrote Friday through Sunday was 250 words. Yeah, so I guess it's safe to say I absolutely suck.

But, I've been writing like crazy, and I'm halfway caught up to where I should be. I'm still 3,379 words behind as of day six, but that shouldn't be too hard to make up.

I've also decided that I'm going to set this on a pattern chapter-by-chapter: modern-times, flashback, modern-times, flashback... you get it.

Total words so far? 6,623.

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Chapter two: Turning Point

1908

Donning breeches that were faded at the knee and buttoning up a thick, flannel coat, Kai took a deep breath of the fresh, wintry morning air as he escaped the tiny confines of their two roomed hut. At eighteen, he was burly like his father, his wide shoulders nearly filling the doorway, and he had to stoop so as not to hit his head while exiting.

His father waited for him by the stock. He was proud of his eldest son. Kai was hardworking, a man of dirt and earth and sweat and blood. Unlike his youngest son, their father saw Kai as a man ready to take on responsibilities.

Rhys, on the other hand, could pass as a slightly smaller version of Kai. His weaknesses weren't in build. They were similar in appearance, carrying the honeyed eyes, a trait of all the men in their family. Though both had straight as the road to Heaven hair, Kai took after his father with roguishly black hair, sleek and tied back, while Rhys's was an oaken brown and hung in his face.

While a few inches shorter and not quite as broad, Rhys was lean and muscular, raised to work the land just the same as Kai. However, Rhys was a scholar. He took after his mother in that aspect. Their father would always shake his head. Even now, Rhys had saved his coin for three months to stay a couple days in the town's inn, located directly across the muddy streets from the one library in town.

Kai sighed, not daring to guess the time as the sun had yet to rise from in between the two hills overlooking their land. He stretched his arms over his head, leaning side to side before going to meet his father.

"Slept in?" his father jested, turning to lift up two buckets of a foul smelling substance, slop for the pigs to feast on. He handed one bucket to Kai, who lifted it easily, and he unlatched the gate. Their boots squelched on the mud as they paused to pour the concoction into the metal trays set aside for the pigs. Dropping the, now empty, buckets over the side of the fence, they continued to make their way across the pen to the other side. Another gate opened to lead them to the large barn Kai's father had built by hand many years before.

Picking up slightly smaller, empty buckets, Kai followed his father and closed the gate behind them. They walked stiffly and silently into the dark red barn and were greeted by too familiar, early morning animal hunger noises. Kai rolled his eyes and mentally cursed Rhys. It was normally Rhys's job to help their father milk the bloody beasts every morning, but he had to go off and bloody well read for two sodding days.

He slumped down, careful to not let his father see his sullen mood. While he had been used to waking up at all hours since he was a lad, he hated milking the cows more than anything. It was guaranteed that a tail would fly into his face or flies would buzz incessantly in his eardrum. Sighing, he looked across the barn in another stall where his father was complacently sitting and milking.

Kai shrugged to himself and thought, he's a good worker - a good man - when he's sober. Sighing again, he shook his head, clearing his mind of thoughts of younger days when his father had swiftly removed his belt while Kai had obediently removed his shirt and waited for the sharp sting of the belt buckle across his back and shoulders. The Irish thirst that held such a mighty grip on his father had cruel effects sometimes.

But the belt never hurt him so much as when his father had turned on his mother. He vividly held several memories of following mornings when their father would be sleeping off his drink, and she would creep to Kai and Rhys's bedroom door and wake Kai, telling him to tend to the outside things while his father got better.

But Kai could seldom hear what she was saying as he stared at the bruised eye or cheek, the skin a sickly yellow blue color, or at the dried blood on her lip. Oftentimes, his father disgusted him with his habits that turned him into the very devil on the inside.

And it showed, physically, as well. While only forty-three, he seemed much older, stiffer, and bitter. Yet, on early mornings like this day's when he was doing what he knew to do best -- be a solitary man working a farm -- he seemed perfectly at ease with his life and his dealings. Kai sneered. Personally, he would never be satisfied with the card life gave him.

His father looked over at him. "You going to sit and stare all day, lad, or are you going to milk her?" he asked, his thick accent all the rougher. Kai grabbed an udder on the accursed beast and began to methodically pull down gently but firmly several times before he heard the familiar sound as fresh milk hit the bottom of the pail. He'd be here awhile if his father expected him to fill two buckets. Once again, he cursed Rhys, accidentally squeezing too tight, and was rewarded with the stinging slap of a tail to his cheek.

Grimacing sometime later, he finally was able to move. Although only eighteen, he felt older after having set on the tiny wooden stool that had been roughly carved, never sat straight and wasn't the least bit smooth. He rubbed his lower back before reaching down and grabbing the two full pails, following his father out into the bright sunlight of the morning. When had the sun risen, and why hadn't he noticed?

He hated being born a farmer's son.

He dropped the buckets off beside his father's and went to the chicken coop, grabbing a pail of corn and took it into the barn where a small work station was built. A rough counter jutted out from the wall and a watering pump was beside it, the handle rusty and stiff from hardly being used. On top of the counter sat a homemade mill, and Kai poured the kernels into it. Setting the pail down, he grabbed the handle and wound it around quickly, gaining speed as he went along, the metal handle digging into the tough skin of his palm. He ignored the grating sound of the kernels steadily becoming ground into something akin to a powder, only slightly less fine. The muscles in his arms grew sore as he held the tiny mill and churned the handle hurriedly so he could end the chore and move on to the next like every morning previous.

Finally, the mill ran smooth and silent, and Kai stopped spinning the handle. He dug his hand into the pail to make sure it was mostly ground up well enough before he exited the barn once again and sauntered over to the chicken coop, stepping over the low fence that incased the chickens, should they attempt to fly a little ways before their fat bellies weighed them down to the ground once more. Vindictively, he smirked at the gobbling chickens, their necks jutting out at a precarious angle Kai would never even try to mimic, and he thought, this year, holidays will be tasty indeed.

He threw the feed on the ground, and the chickens swarmed around his feet, pecking at the dirt and grass for the yellow grain of corn. Carefully stepping over chickens, he reached into the nest and gathered a half dozen or so eggs, gently wiping them on his breeches to remove the disgusting, brown remains that always seemed to gather on the shells. When he'd been younger, Kai had scrunched his nose in revulsion as he stared at the dirty eggs, but he had grown used to it, and by now, it bothered him none.

Kai's father walked over with a board between his hands on which shallow cuts were dug into the surface, just deep enough to balance the eggs on as to not let them fall and break. Kai carefully placed the eggs into the holder and stooped to pick up the pail. He glanced at his father, who seemed to be miles away, staring straight into the sun. Finally, he noticed Kai's stare and his lips twitched into a quick smile and he nodded his head once towards Kai.

"Aye, thank you, lad. That's all we'll do today," he informed, finally gathering his wits and putting his hand to his forehead, palm out and facing down, so as to shade his eyes from the harsh morning sunlight. He walked off, leaving Kai to exhale sharply, puffing out his cheeks, and run his fingers through his sleek hair, untying it, smoothing it out, and retying it all in the blink of an eye.

He glanced up as he saw his father drop the board of eggs. "Where's that bastard off to so early?" he questioned mutinously as he set a slow gait until he got to the eggs, shattered on the ground, their yellow yolks seeping into the dirt. "Great," he muttered. "The worms get to break the fast before me."

He glared at his father's back as his father ran around a fence post, making the turn so sharp that he nearly lost balance. He was running towards the house. Suddenly, Kai's ears picked up what had caused his father to sprint to the house -- a scream.

Kai immediately dropped his bucket and quickly caught up with his father. They made it to the house side by side and skidded to a halt. It was Marylin, Kai and Rhys's younger sister, only eight years old. She stood with her back to the doorway as she stared at something on the floor. She screamed again as Kai and his father stood dumbstruck. Their father was the first to react, running to the doorway, grabbing Marylin's shoulders, and spinning her around. He stared at her questioningly while she screamed and continued to look at whatever was on the floor.

Kai walked up, crouching down beside Marylin and taking her hand just before their father glanced inside his house, over Marylin's shoulder.

"Bloody God," he swore, immediately standing and nudging Marylin out of the way so as to get by. Kai stood as well, keeping a hand on Marylin's small back as he took in what lay before him.

Sausages were sizzling on the cast iron stove's top along with potatoes boiling in a huge pot. The smell was intoxicating, though, the meat was burning and the potatoes were nearly boiling over. He looked at the floor.

Dressed in a simple, white, cotton gown, his mother lay on the hard wooden floorboards, a wooden spoon laying barely a foot away from her outstretched arm. She'd fallen, Kai deduced, but he did not know how long ago. His gaze traveled down his mother's form, her light brown hair spread out, framing her face. Her middle was twisted, and she was partially curled as if in pain. Her belly, slightly swollen with the beginnings of her fourth child, barely moved, but it was a sign she was alive and breathing.

His eyes wandered until he noticed a drastic change in color on the simple white smock. A large red stain covered the back of the dress, along with some of the floor. His eyes widened just as his father called out to him.

"Kai, lad, help me lift her to the bed. Hurry!" His voice was urgent, filled with panic. Kai left Marylin where she stood, whimpering and crying as she watched the two large men pick up her fragile mum. Her eyes followed the red blotch on the back of her mother's dress. She didn't know what it meant, but she could tell it was blood plain as God in Heaven. Hurriedly making the sign of the cross over her chest, she furiously scrubbed at her eyes and cheeks to wipe away the tears. Her father and brother would need her to fetch things. Something was terribly wrong.

Once in the bedroom, Kai leaned against the wall, jumping when Marylin walked in and put her head against his forearm as they both watched their father. Their father tapped their mum's face, short slaps meant to revive her.

"Linda! Linda, wake up," he whispered. He was beginning to cry, and despite Kai's feelings for his mother, he couldn't help feel disgusted by his father's actions. Crying was a woman's job, not a man's. Not a true man's in the least. He restrained himself from vocalizing or in any means showing the disgust so as not to confuse little Mary. Again he put his arm around his younger sister and looked down at her.

Her eyes were wide, and unlike everyone else in the family, a bright, vibrant grass green that lit up whatever room she was in. Now, however, they flashed only with worry, not mischief nor childish excitement. Her hair was blonde, shades lighter than Rhys's or their mother's. If not for possessing their father's hot headed temper or their mother's cool reflection along with Kai and Rhys's skills for debate and wit, she could pass as an extended cousin, not a direct child. She was a whole different package entirely.

Following her steady gaze, Kai looked back at the scene. Their father had barely woken their mother, and still he'd tap her face occasionally to get her to keep her drooping eyelids open.

Finally, she managed to croak out, "Water," and their father looked to Marylin, who scampered out without a word and returned as fast as her legs could carry her with a pitcher of water and an empty cup. Their father took both items and poured some water into the cup, holding it to their mother's lips as their mother struggled to take a swallow. She coughed and sputtered when she did manage to get some water in her mouth, but she managed to hold her eyes open just slightly better and her legs relaxed a bit.

"What happened?" Kai finally questioned, breaking the quiet. Their father looked up at him and shook his head.

"I've no idea, lad. Kai, I want you to take the horse and ride to town. Fetch Rhys and fetch the first doctor you see. Tell them you need them right away," he ordered, squaring his shoulders. Kai curtly nodded before pivoting around and, with one last pat on Marylin's head, headed to the barn, grabbing reins off a hook on the wall as he walked, never pausing.

He mounted the horse and set a quick pace for the beast, who snorted and neighed in protest after having barely been ridden in the past year. She'd been mated and had recently given birth to a colt, so no one dared use her for transportation. Kai decided he didn't care as he dug his heels in the animal's sides to urge her on.

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Well, I've reached 4,094 words total. I think I'm doing okay. But this fight scene gave me HELL.

Continuing straight from the last post.

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Chapter One: Fateful Faith, post two

“Why, Kai? I refuse. Do what you wish to me. I won't steal the life of another at all, but most certainly not for you. Do you think me that stupid, Kai?" Rhys dared. Kai's eyes flashed and he bared his fangs, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"You will do this, Rhys," Kai ordered, untying the cape from around his neck and tossing it carelessly to the side. Rhys squared his shoulder and inhaled deeply, steeling himself. For once, he wasn't going along with every whim Kai thought up, but he knew that one way or another, Kai would force him to kill another. Kai was, very simply, more powerful than him.

Even when they'd been nothing more than mortals, Kai had bested him in all things physical. Kai won every wrestle down the knoll outside their old house in the shire in Ireland before they'd been turned and fled to London to start anew. And while Rhys was muscular, Kai's broad expanse of chest seemed to double Rhys's, and Kai was much taller. His pitch black hair was sleeked back to perfection, not a hair out of place. If Rhys didn't know better, he could see why other monsters like them called their kind "glorious night creatures." A term adopted by Kai and used on a frequent basis.

Rhys shook his head, blinking several times and tucking a stray shaggy lock of hair out of his eyes as Kai took another threatening step closer. Rhys refused to meet his brother's gaze. They were both monsters headed for damnation, but Rhys could still be the better of the two in at least this one thing.

"Let it go, Kai," Rhys calmly stated, staring past Kai's face and over his shoulder. The forebodingly dark alleyway their coven opened out to offered Rhys no comfort -- no one would be down that way tonight, human or monster, save for those still asleep in the coven. He had no help in this battle.

Kai's fist came from nowhere and flew into Rhys's jaw before he could think. He winced, spitting out blood as he took a brief second to massage his sore cheek. His hands balled into fists, and he glowered at his brother.

Kai merely smirked. He was convinced that Rhys would never be worthy in a fight, and he would not win this one. Surely, Kai would not kill his brother tonight. He would simply... teach him a lesson. Kai shrugged, continuing his inner monologue. After all, he thought, he brought this upon him himself. He could have agreed.

He watched Rhys, his senses hypersensitive as he took in Rhys's muscles tensing and twitching beneath the smooth white flesh. Rhys could be powerful. Not nearly enough to compare to Kai, but he could hold his own rights if only he weren't so damnably human, if not in body, in mind. Kai sighed in a half-pitying way. He waited and watched, wondering how long it would take Rhys to return the punch. He reached behind him for the whip he always carried, coiled like a thin black snake around his waist as if it were a belt for his trousers. He was beyond ready. He gave a cold, calculating smile as Rhys strode forward, his fist rising.

"Kai! You've returned!" a blonde wench called from the doorway of the abandoned two-story hovel they'd claimed for their coven. Rhys's attention was diverted to the thin blonde sprite. Her long fingernails, stained red with God knows what, tapped at the outer wall, and her thickly painted lips curled into a gleeful smile. Her normally blue eyes fringed with red as she walked toward Kai, completely ignoring Rhys, and wrapped herself around him like a child.

Kai stroked the small of her back, reaching her neck and tipping her chin up. He kissed her, then, ardently. Rhys watched in revulsion, not able to tug his gaze away as the girl's arms slid up Kai's thick shoulders, her fingers entwining in the acidy black tendrils at the nape of his neck.

Kai seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, and Rhys finally tugged his gaze down only to hear a soft, heady purr escape the girl's throat as Kai peppered kisses down her neck. If she weren't already another of Kai's victims, she would be dead now. Rhys knew that much to be true.

His hands fell to her waist, and he pushed her away slightly, grinning down at her, charming as ever. The girl, Morgan she was called, giggled, lightheaded from the sheer intoxication of being fully washed in Kai's sheer aura.

Kai looked past her and his eyes locked with Rhys. He sneered, yet another show of dominance. Rhys scowled. He was becoming sick of Kai's mind games. Kai broke their gaze and glanced back down at Morgan.

With an air of perfect ease in such a situation, he leaned back on his heels. "You've been doing well, Morgan." The statement was not a question, but Morgan answered anyway.

"Yes. There are many mortal men here, Kai, but none so grand as you." Rhys was disgusted by the complete servitude leaking with her words, but Kai seemed enamored by it. Rhys knew it was a show. Kai could care less, but he was always the one to humor.

"I missed you, Kai," Morgan continued, running her finger down the middle of Kai's chest. This was becoming quite ludicrous. Rhys cleared his throat, and Morgan pivoted around and shot him a glare that could kill if they all weren't already dead. She turned back around as if nothing had happened and stood on tiptoe, planting her lips against Kai's once more.

Kai relented, removing Morgan's arms from around his neck. "In a moment, little one," he murmured from deep in the back of his throat. Morgan's eyes lit up with undisguised glee at the implied promise. "I have business to attend to," he continued, deftly nodding in Rhys's direction. Rhys automatically stiffened, his jaw completely healed already. While he hated being what he was, he was ever thankful for the extremely quick healing rate his kind had attained. Within moments of the first lash of only a fraction of Kai's strength, the bruise had quickly appeared and faded, and the pain had gradually decreased while Kai had worked charms on Morgan and vice versa.

Morgan briefly pouted as she gazed at Rhys once more. "Has Rhys been bad?" she murmured, over enunciating every syllable so that it dripped from her tongue. Kai darkly laughed.

"He is quite stubborn, Morgan," Kai answered. Rhys cocked his head, his shaggy locks falling into his eyes once more.

Kai's left hand smoothly wrapped around the handle of his whip at the base of his back once more before quickly lashing out with it. With a careful snap of his wrist, the serpentine weapon wrapped around Rhys's neck, the metal tip stinging his skin as it bit into the tender flesh. Rhys growled, instinctively drawing back, which made the whip pull tighter.

Kai slowly pulled back, dragging Rhys further. Rhys stumbled along the cobbled streets, making more than enough noise for the two of them as he stayed upright. Suddenly, Kai snapped his wrist again, and the tight grip of the whip loosened as it slid down Rhys's shoulder and away from his body.

His hand instantly shot up to his throat, and he rubbed the bruised skin, thickly swallowing until the suffocating pain subsided. Before he found relief, Kai reached out and grabbed his wrist, twisting it behind Rhys's back until a sharp crack pierced the silent night, and Rhys cried out. Out of his line of sight, Morgan cackled wickedly and clapped her hands, clearly hoping Kai would finish him off.

Rhys spun out of Kai's strong grip and held his injured arm to his chest, grimacing. In a mere few seconds where neither moved but merely stared each other down, the bones healed, and Rhys dropped to the ground, quickly kicking Kai's feet out from under him. Morgan gasped as Kai fell to the ground, and Rhys flipped back up to his feet and kicked Kai hard in the ribs.

Kai sputtered, breathing deeply and hissing at Rhys. Rhys waited, as was proper, for his brother to get up. Some idiotic piece of him still cared whether or not Kai lived or died.

Bringing forth his whip once again, Kai sliced through the thin shirt Rhys had tugged on and drew blood as the sharp tip licked open a new wound on Rhys's chest that closed just as quickly as it came. Rhys sharply inhaled but otherwise ignored the infliction and lunged toward Kai again, grabbing Kai's shoulders and slamming him against the cement wall. The bricks crumbled around them and clattered down to the road beneath them, rattling and jarring their senses.

Kai panted but sneered at Rhys. "Is this your best, little brother?" he jested before jerking forward and lifting Rhys over his head before slamming him down into several barrels of old wash water. The barrels broke under Rhys's sudden weight and the disgustingly filthy water seeped out of the broken, splintered wood and dampened Morgan's bare feet and Kai's new boots. Rhys struggled to get up, slipping on the broken fragments left from the barrels and the wet stones due to the foul-smelling water.

Finally he managed to stand upright, and he wrapped his fingers around a sharp piece of the barrel, and ran toward Kai at full speed, the makeshift stake aimed at Kai's heart. Morgan, realizing what was happening, screamed and leaped forward, her long blonde hair fluttering behind her, and her eyes wide with panic. She dove in front of Kai just as Rhys stabbed the wooden stake through her chest, piercing her heart.

A choked sob escaped her lips as she looked at Rhys in disbelief. She wrapped her hands around the stake and whimpered before decaying into ash and immediately being carried away by the breeze.

The two brothers stared, mouths agape, at where Morgan was standing not two moments prior. Rhys dropped the bloodied stake and staggered back in disbelief. Morgan had hated him from the beginning, but he never wanted to kill her. He'd vowed never to kill anyone... except...

He glanced up at Kai, who was snapping the whip one last time. The cord fished out into the night air and tightened around both of Rhys's wrists at once, dragging him forward. Kai's hand replaced the whip, his long fingers tightly securing Rhys's arms immobile. With the other hand, Kai reached for Rhys's Bible he'd long since discarded to the side along with his cape. He tucked the Bible under his arm and used the cape to tie Rhys's wrists together.

Rhys's labored breaths tried to slow as he attempted to calm himself. Kai would not kill him. Kai wanted to break him too much to kill him. The cold night air stung his bare back as Kai ripped his shirt open and Rhys steeled himself for the impending sting just as the first crack of the whip was heard and the cold metal tip tore open his flesh once more.

Kai continued to mercilessly whip him until Rhys was doubled over to keep from screaming. Even being an immortal with newfound high tolerances for pain had its limits and the continuous, repetitive strike on his back was torture, pure and simple.

"Stop! Kai, God in heaven, stop!" Rhys pleaded, and Kai stopped mid-strike. He sneered, walking over to his younger brother and untying the thick cape from around Rhys's wrists. Rhys didn't stand, but eyed his brother warily as Kai licked the salty blood off the tip of his whip before putting it back in place around his waist for a later time.

"God? If there is a God, he has long forsaken you. The night you gave yourself to me --"

"I did not give myself to you!"

"--I recall things differently, but, the night you gave yourself to me and let me drink of your blood and turn you into something much better than what He created... God has forsaken you ever since then. You have no God. You only have me and my coven. Embrace it," Kai growled, thrusting his fingers through Rhys's hair and pulling his head back.

Rhys jerked away and muttered, "How dare you say that. How dare you speak his name in such a way." Kai arched his brow in disbelief before reaching into the inner breast pocket of his coat and took out a bulky item swaddled in cloth. He unwrapped the item, making sure to keep his hand covered as to not touch it.

Rhys saw what it was -- a cross. A plain, silver cross, quite small and with no adornments of any kind.

A searing pain shot through his body, electrifying his nerves, and sending him shooting back, which only agitated his steal-healing back. Kai pressed the cross harder into Rhys's chest, leaving a permanent burned mark. A searing sound filled the night as Rhys's skin burned at the contact with the cross. He groaned, crying out before Kai jerked the cross away.

"Your wonderful God would not have let His cross hurt you. Even your dense skull can understand that," Kai spat quickly. "I want you to go sire a girl. I will give you six months, Rhys. Until then, your life will be in my hands. Remember that."

Rhys bowed his head and winced once more as Kai pivoted around, donning his cape, and throwing the Bible haphazardly behind him to land in a muddy puddle at Rhys's knees.

A dry sob escaped Rhys's throat before he inhaled and pushed himself up, forcing himself to stand. The wounds from the fight would heal, but he would be branded by the cross forever. He picked the Bible up and tried to wipe the cover clean. He ran his hand over the cracks and creases of the leather and sighed. Kai was wrong. God would forgive him for allowing Kai to turn him. He had to!

He shook his head. He wasn't fooling a soul. It was too late for anyone or anything to save him. He glanced at the empty alleyway where Kai had stood moments before and sighed.

He'd been given six months. He couldn't waste it.

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Feedback is welcome!

--Kathleen

The last piece of dialogue at the end of this post isn't finished. Also, NaNoWriMo is all about word/page count. So, there may be typos. The dialogue may be cliche and suck. At the mo', that's okay!

Be sure to check out my profile.

And feel free to friend me. I'll friend yall back, most definitely.

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Chapter one: Fateful Faith

The cobbled streets of London in the blistery winter of 1913 were finally silent. The clip-clop of horses had ceased hours earlier. A golden moon was suspended in the air like a buttercup, and gossamer clouds adorned the sky.

Rhys awoke. His slanted, honeyed brown eyes shot open with a start. He was hungry, desperately so. He ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth habitually and sighed, shaking what little remaining sleep there was from his head and jumping to an upright position, hopping out of the feather down bed.

He threw on a billowy white shirt, loose at the collar and drawn tighter with a string sewn inside around his waist. The frock was terribly outdated, but he wasn't concerned with fashion. His dark brown breeches hugged his legs the entire length down, sliding over dull black boots, adorned with scuff marks. The attire made him appear a lowly peasant from two decades or more back it seemed, but he preferred it to the formal dressing men wore in the present.

Sighing, he leaned forward over the wrought-iron bars of his bed to the simple wooden nightstand beside it and deftly picked up a tattered Bible from its top. The rough grain of the stand prickled as his hand skated over its surface and sent an involuntary chill down his spine.

He leafed through the yellow pages. The book was in fine condition, considering, passed down from his father and his father's father before that. The ancient corners were sometimes turned down, creases evident in the thin pages. He squinted at the words and walked forward, paying no attention to the hunger in his gut -- a hunger that dove past all aches mortal and sped through his very soul.

The air was bitter, smog from new factories filling the sky with their gray, ashen, dry rain. Rhys quietly cleared his throat and focused on the page he'd turned to. He was to the Psalms, and he sometimes reread them with such mental hunger that he completely forgot the physical pain that was always achingly close to the surface.

His nostrils flared as a new scent suddenly and silently filled the air, seemingly casting the smog-ridden wind apart like the Dead Sea. His eyes narrowed, but he was a moment too slow and his precious book was torn from his loose grip quite easily.

Matching brown eyes locked onto Rhys's own, and a knowing smirk split the pale lips of Rhys's brother -- Kai. Rhys growled low in his throat, his right hand flying to his neck and laying there, fingers curling at the nape, and a frown prolonging its stay on his features.

Kai's feet were silent upon the street as he appraised his younger brother. Kai was too smooth. The midnight black cape fastened at the hollow of his throat fluttered without sound in the breeze that nipped at their eerily alike pale flesh. Rhys sucked in courage as he sucked in his breath. Kai never ceased to intimidate him.

Kai's gaze flickered to Rhys's hand, still protective at the side of his neck, and he laughed. His laugh was cold, cruel, and mocking. He all-but rolled his eyes to the sides of the muddy streets as he shook his head pitifully.

"Relax, brother. Your blood would taste sour now. Besides, I can bite you only once. You've nothing to fear from me anymore." His voice, ever sensual, floated through Rhys's heavily guarded senses and coated his mind. His hand slid down, and for a moment he forgot why he was even there or who he was.

But then he remembered Kai's special fondness to relax his victims. Struggles were always entirely too messy. Rhys shook his head, shaking off the mental blanket Kai had quickly constructed to bend Rhys to his way.

"What do you want?" Rhys spat, lowering his gaze from Kai's hypnotic eyes and staring at the ground beneath them, their shadows stretching out in the full moon's light.

Kai ignored him. "What's this you've got here? Your storybook? Been carrying this... thing... with you everywhere as of late. When will you tire of it?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, and Rhys winced as Kai insulted the Holy Book.

"It's not a storybook, Kai."

"Oh?" Kai began, flipping idly through the pages. "It seems like one to me. Full of idle fancy written by men probably drunken from wine." His head cocked to the side, and he smiled pseudo-innocently, hoping to bait Rhys. He succeeded.

"You know what it is. After all the times Father read from it to us as children. You should be ashamed, Kai. You've damned yourself to eternal hell thus far, but even someone like you could be forgiven by God." At this announcement, Kai threw back his head in laughter.

"God forgive me? Forgive me for what? I fight for existence, and I enjoy it. You would too."

"You gave me a curse," Rhys retorted.

"A curse, brother? Maybe to you, but you haven't really lived without experiencing the rush. It... electrifies you. Surely even you have experienced that. You knew I was here before you moved to turn around. You smelled my scent. I could tell. You use this 'curse' I gave you whether you like it or not. Feeding or not. It's who you are," Kai explained, talking down to Rhys as if he were a stupid child.

"You killed our father, our mother... You killed little Mary, Kai!" Rhys cried out, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I didn't kill you, baby brother. I gave you a gift. I gave you eternity. But you are squandering it away. It's pathetic, Rhys," Kai mocked. He tutted Rhys under his breath slightly shook his head, taking a large step closer. So close that Rhys could see the deep red and black swirling in his eyes, mixing with the brown. Kai was hungry as well. Subconsciously, Rhys wondered who the next victim would be.

"You should have killed me, Kai.” He took a breath and squared his shoulders. “Give me back my Bible. Now," Rhys demanded, the previous growl growing more deep and pronounced, a pure grumble reverberating in his chest.

“I will in time, brother. Don’t worry. You will have your comforting stories to aide your starvation methods.”

“I’m not starving,” Rhys insisted, grabbing for his book and missing. Kai briefly chuckled.

“You feed off the fat cow in the stable and the pigs that roll in the slop. How impressive, Rhys. I think I’d rather be dead,” Kai responded.

“I told you to kill me. I prefer my life this way. I don’t take human life, Kai. You shouldn’t either. Besides, isn’t it suicide?”

“Suicide? None of my,” he paused, thinking, “children, or fledglings, or whatever they call themselves would dare put a stake through my heart. Except maybe you, Rhys. But, baby brother, you are far too much of a coward to do something like that. Aren’t you?”

Rhys ignored the jab and spat at Kai’s feet, glowering at him. “What did you want with this visit, Kai? You rarely come to your coven, and when you do it is never good. What has perked your interests toward your home this time?”

Kai shrugged. “I have a unique proposition for you, Rhys.” He paused, running his hand over the cracked leather holding the Bible together. Rhys closed his eyes and dipped his head into the palm of his hand. He was terrible at hiding his emotions, unlike Kai, who never betrayed a single flicker of true feeling.

“What is it, Kai?” Rhys’s voice was laced with frustration as he thought, Get on with it so I can have my one possession and go feed before this bloody hunger nearly kills me.

“You are of the knowledge that my coven does not harm you merely because you are my brother, yes?” Kai hedged around his message, agitating Rhys further, and Kai knew it. Rhys relaxed his stance and gripped his left wrist with his right hand.

“Your coven cannot kill me. I didn’t sire them -- you did. It is your life, Kai, that they hold in their greedy hands.” Rhys was forever attempting to tell his brother that the more innocent victims he made into the same monster he already was, the more assassins he would need to dispose of should the time arise. But Kai was cocky; he assumed that every fledgling was hopelessly devoted to him. Rhys knew better. Trust no one.

“And yet they worship me. Isn’t life perfect, brother?”

“Perfect? This is perfection to you, Kai? We are not living, and we are not dead. We shouldn’t exist,” Rhys enunciated.

“But we do exist, Rhys, and that’s all that matters anymore. But, I do have an... errand for you.”

“An errand? That’s all?” Rhys was used to doing little things for Kai. Fetching him things and the like. Kai was demanding, but as he sired Kai, he had complete control over Rhys’s very blood as well as his thoughts. It was better for Rhys to comply quietly and bide his time.

“Yes, brother. The coven has never liked you. You are not like us. For some odd reason, you still long humanity, brother, and they dismiss this as insanity. I have fought hard for you --”

“Liar,” Rhys interrupted. Kai hissed quietly, but continued.

“--all for naught. My errand is that you are to find a young wench of your liking and sire her. Feed off her life. Experience the exhilarating rush as her blood flows through your veins. And then, turn her into a glorious creature of the night.”

“Is that all?” Rhys facetiously asked. Kai smirked.

“I see God hasn’t drained all your spirit. But I have digressed enough, and morning is fast approaching. I can practically feel the sunlight ripping at my skin.”

“How articulate,” Rhys continued, sneering. He felt he was at once gaining leverage with his brother.

“Patience, brother. You find this wench, give her our gift, and bring her back to me. I do demand proof, you know.” Kai smirked, crossing his arms over the broad expanse of his chest.

“Why, Kai? I refuse. Do what you wish to me.

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Feedback is welcome!

--Kathleen