by J Wells
“Leave them; she’s feast enough for us all.”
I snatch at his chin, forcing his head aside. I frown upon feeling him flinch.
“I say what goes around here. Footman, get your hands off me!”
I throw him to the floor and turn my attention back to the bed, where Edmond sits with Rose cradled in his arms. Now standing, Caspar throws his fists behind him as Jazlynn sits astride his back. His auburn hair is twisted between her hands. I see his face contort and hear as he cries out. Caspar steps back with speed, crushing Jazlynn’s small frame against the wall. She falls to the floor, and I see no movement. Caspar leaps back onto the bed, leaning over Rose and Edmond. I rush to her aid, clasping her against my chest. I tilt her chin up to face me and stroke her long black hair.
“Jazlynn…” I shake her softly. “Please wake up.” As the breaths leave my lips, they play upon her face. My head flicks round. “Took your time, angel!”
Tristan has Caspar’s hands secured behind his back; writhing around, he snorts like a bull.
“Lucian…” Tristan’s voice has softened; considering the commotion, he seems so at ease. “I’m sorry I had to put you through this. It was a test for you all; I had to see for myself those of you who would protect her.”
I lift Jazlynn’s limp body from the floor and my eyes flash towards Tristan.
“Hope the games you play make you happy.”
“I didn’t intend for anyone to get hurt.”
I ignore his comment. With Jazlynn held beneath one arm I stride towards the door. I push down the handle and hold it ajar.
“Edmond!” I shout. “Stay where you are, the rest of you must leave.”
Still agitated and in a heightened state, my family scamper under my arm and through the doorway. Tristan passes me an unreadable smile.
“Wider,” he says.
The hinges screech as I push the door open to its full extent. Still holding Caspar’s hand behind him, Tristan throws his arm back and like a bowling ball Caspar skims across the floor and through the doorway. I kick the door shut with my foot and flinch as Tristan pats me on the shoulder.
“Job well done, eh?” He grins, and with slight reluctance I return the gesture.
My eyes search out Edmond, who stands straightening his crisp white shirt before his faint reflection in the mirror. I feel movement in Jazlynn’s arms as she lets out stifled groans. I walk towards the bed and place her next to Rose, who bundles her up in her arms.
“Angel, you need to take Rose and get out of here. I will speak to them, I promise you I will. But at this moment my family need time and space. Her scent is driving them crazy.”
I can still hear their fingers scratching the walls.
“You can blame them, chastise them all you want, but it’s not their fault. That goes for Caspar, it goes for Charles … none of us asked to become vampires. Hate them you may, but they are all I’ve got.” Closing my eyes, my mind wanders back. “I saw Charles, the death you bestowed on him; those flames set him alight and burnt him to ashes. Tristan, by your hand the mirror took one of my family. Who will be next to die?” I stand tall, but am still far shorter than him.
“I’m an angel, we hurt no one. It was merely an illusion you saw, one to make the others think, to make them more manageable.”
Tristan strolls towards Edmond, who still stands preening himself before the mirror. I hear a polite exchange of words and Edmond steps aside. Taking his place, Tristan’s reflection distorts. The glass ripples, resembling running water, and as he places his hand upon it his fingers sink through. He takes a quick step back and his arm straightens; as he leans away from his own reflection, it appears he is pulling at something. I hurry forward. A gangly figure emerges.
“Charles!” I cry.
A smile of exuberance sits on his face as he skips towards me like a schoolgirl, passes me and leaves.
“You see, Lucian, we angels hurt nobody; we just do things for effect.”
With a half-smile, I shake my head.
“Granted, on Charles’s return you will be looked upon more favourably. Like I said, I will have words. They need to calm down. For the next couple of hours you both need to go, but I will see what I can do.”
“You haven’t heard me.”
I pick up on the serious edge in Tristan’s tone as he takes me by the arm.
“She’s not safe up there. I can’t protect her alone.”
“You say Rose is in danger above ground. You’ve seen my family’s behaviour, and at this present time she will be no safer down here in the castle.” I scratch my head, my focus moving from Tristan to Edmond. “What say…” I pause. “Edmond, you will stand in for me. When they have calmed themselves down and before you let them leave for work, you will hold a family meeting in the library. They can have their say. Be diplomatic, allow them to take a vote. But they must know that whatever decision is made, I will not tolerate any more of their unruly behaviour. Edmond, you have charm, use it; on our return I want them on side.”
“Return?”
I see Tristan’s eyes growing wide.
“Yes. You can’t protect Rose alone, so both Jazlynn and I will escort you out of the castle. We will take the car, drive into town and turn this nightmare evening into a night of fun.”
“Lucian…”
I raise my hand to Tristan’s face.
“I will hear no more on the matter. Edmond will dress us men, and Jazlynn will see to herself and Rose. We will be out of here within the hour.”
“Lucian…”
“What now?”
Is there no pleasing this man of God? I frown.
“Thank you, my friend,” he utters.
My frown dissolves into quite an unexpected smile.
Standing behind Jazlynn, I peer over her shoulder as she stands pressing button after button on the jukebox, searching for a special song.
“Hurry up, the balls are set up. Look, they’re waiting.”
Rose beckons us; Tristan stands at the opposite end of the snooker table, placing the triangle over the coloured balls.
“Won’t be a sec,” I call over.
Opening my fingers, I squeeze Jazlynn’s tiny waist.
She flinches. “Ouch! That hurt,” she says, pushing my hand away.
I spin her round to face me. Unfastening two buttons on her red blouse, I roll up the hem. I bend my head round, enabling me to see the lower arch of her back. I am shocked by the dark purple and black bruises that merge in nondescript patterns.
“I’ll kill the bastard!” I shout down her ear.
“Get a grip, he wouldn’t have known the pain he caused. I haven’t felt anything for over two hundred years.”
A slight pink blush sits on her cheekbone, which I touch with my lips, leaving only the slightest of kisses. I glance towards the snooker table. Rose leans over the green baize, while Tristan lowers himself over her and rests his head on her shoulder. Taking her cue, he leans over further, allowing his head to nestle into her neck and their cheeks meet. Her eyes crease as she chuckles. What I would give for her to be in my arms, for her to look at me the way she looks at him now. I see his mouth open, passing words into her ear, though on this occasion my senses don’t allow me to hear his whispered conversation or her creased-nose reply.
“Think it’s about time you taught me how to play.” Jazlynn’s full lips curve into an unreadable smile.
She doesn’t wait for me to ask, but grabs at my hand. Again, I look towards the giggling pair. Tristan guides Rose’s hand and she takes her first shot. Their eyes move up in unison. Tristan tosses me a snooker cue and I grab at it, but miss; it falls to the floor. I shake my head. God, what’s wrong with me? I bend to retrieve the cue, and as I stand I see Jazlynn bent over the table in the same way that Rose was seconds earlier.
“I’m waiting,” she says.
I can hear the playful sarcasm in her voice. She stretches further over the table. My eyes drop to her jeans as they ride down. I bite my l
ip and hold back a gasp upon seeing the lacy edge of her panties. I drag my fingers across my heart; it is faint, but it beats. I press my fingers deeper and catch its rhythm.
I lean over her, and my cotton shirt rubs against her scarlet blouse.
“Careful,” Jazlynn splutters.
I had quite forgotten her bruises. I take the snooker cue between my hands, which she covers with her own. Her fingers feel warm against mine. My face falls down into her neck; tickled by wisps of her thick black hair, I crunch my shoulders. My nose is taken by the subtle scent she wears, one I’d never taken the time to notice before. The faint beat of my heart has been heightened from rhythmical to erratic. My eyes leap towards Rose, towards Tristan, their arms entwined, their lips as one. I could die within their kisses, so I gaze at Jazlynn. Anger brews up in my stomach and in my head. I snatch my hand from Jazlynn’s; the wooden cue falls from her fingers and rolls along the table, disturbing the coloured balls.
“I need air!” I shout.
I see Jazlynn’s open-mouthed response, but ignore it. I storm through the door, slamming it shut. The street is dark and cold, and I shudder; I’m not so at ease with these newfound feelings. Not wanting to be seen, I walk past the window of the snooker hall and down a narrow alleyway. I glance up at the crescent moon and scream into the night. With my clenched fists I hit out at a black wheelie bin. I attempt to throw it aside, but rammed with rubbish it won’t move, so I kick it and pass by. What is happening to me? The strength I’m so proud of has gone, and with every passing moment I feel my senses weakening.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I never heard her approaching footsteps, her heels against the cobblestones.
“What’s it to you? I needed air, is that a problem?” I snap.
“I saw their kisses, the way they held one another. I know you saw it too, you’ve just got to accept it.” She pauses, her eyes burning into mine. “I only have to look into your eyes to see the workings of your mind. You’ve lost her, Lucian; you need to let her go. You can’t control her with your thoughts. It’s wrong to manipulate people, it’s not natural. If love is meant to be, it will just happen.”
“Jazlynn, you don’t know how wrong you are,” I hiss. “I don’t want to control her.”
I storm past, my steps quickening. I hear her own footsteps as she follows me to the end of the alley.
“Lucian!” she yells.
The pitch of her voice stops me, and we stand under a flickering street light.
“For more than two years I’ve obsessed over Rose, every waking hour she’s dominated my mind, my every thought. Her touch was the only thing that gave me back my heart beat, my life. Two years too long!”
Jazlynn takes my arm; her wet cheeks show me how upset she is.
“I can see you’re hurting, but believe me you’re not the only one,” she tells me. “I too have been in love, an all-consuming love I thought I couldn’t live without. Now I know different, and in time you will get over her, or at least learn to live with your feelings like I have done.” Her head jerks away from me.
My fingers follow her neckline, and reaching round to her chin I turn her face to meet me.
“To feel I no longer need to see Rose, to touch her.”
I take Jazlynn’s hand and feel my heart dance, its beat quicken. The florescent lighting from the street lamps highlights her beauty. A glint is thrown from her dark almond eyes. The bright light plays down, emphasising her high cheekbones. Her lips, I think. I stand back.
“Two years it has taken me to see what I have missed for the last two hundred.”
I can’t help the way my lips creep closer to hers, her eyes almost inviting me in. She tilts her head, her lips near. The lids of my eyes fall, and I await her taste.
“I’ve paid for the hour; are you two playing or what?”
Hearing Tristan’s voice, my eyes snap open, but the darkness prevents me from seeing him.
“Oh shit, sorry, mate, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Carry on, we’re coming,” Jazlynn calls as her hands slide out of mine.
Her hand rests at her side and I reach over; our fingers interlink.
“No, Lucian…” She shakes her hand free. “You’re two hundred years too late.”
I frown. “Jazzy,” I whisper, and again attempt to take her hand.
“You just don’t get it, do you? It’s taken you two years to realise what has taken me two hundred years to forget.”
“What can I do to make things right between us, to win your heart? Jazlynn…” I look into her eyes, but they are lost to me.
“Lucian, you can’t give me back what I wanted from you all those years ago.”
She turns and I grab her arm.
“The last dance with you at the masquerade ball, that’s all I ever wanted.”
On this occasion it is I who follow Jazlynn. We walk back into the snooker hall. It’s quite ironic that her song is playing on the jukebox, though the soft melody doesn’t fit my mood. I gaze around; all six tables are in use. Mid-game, a group of teens stand round ours. I squint and pick up a hand that waves. Rose and Tristan are seated at the bar, a tray of drinks before them. Giggling, Rose jumps down from her chair, swaying slightly as she makes her way past the tables. She stands between us, something she seems to be good at. Linking arms with us, Rose attempts to sway us in time to the song that plays. I unlink my arm from hers, leave Jazlynn and join Tristan at the bar. Beer swills down the side of a pint glass, which is absorbed by a green towelling matt.
Tristan grins. “Cheers!”
“Angel, you’re taking the piss, you know I can’t drink this, I can’t stomach it.”
“Live a little, you may grow to like it.”
I scowl, my focus finding the girls. Jazlynn is inserting money into the jukebox. Rose dances, her moves overplayed and robotic. I listen to her hysterical laughter and watch her trip over her feet.
“Good God, man.” My eyes shoot to Tristan. “How many has she had?”
He looks down to the bar littered with empty shot glasses.
“A couple,” he adds. “Looks like she drinks as fast as you. Another?”
He takes the empty glass from my hand; I hadn’t even noticed I’ve drained the last drop.
Swivelling round on my chair, I look at Rose for the first time with a critical eye. She has no nineteenth-century finesse or etiquette, and I don’t appreciate her twenty-first century flaws. I look at Jazlynn; I can’t help but think her smiles are solely out of politeness. Whilst Rose dances, Jazlynn stands back; it’s only now that I see her as a beautiful wall flower, and my only hope is that in time she will be picked by me.
I feel Tristan nudge my arm.
“Penny for them,” he says, grinning.
“You what?”
“A penny for your thoughts.” His eyes crease, and he breaks out in laughter. “You not heard that one, mate?”
“No, I haven’t, and let me make one thing clear, you may have wheedled your way into Rose’s heart, but you’re no mate of mine.”
Tristan winks. “If that’s the way you want it.”
I jolt forwards as he slaps me on the shoulder. I wince on feeling a pain in my stomach, and hear the ungentlemanly way it growls. I feel a great hunger, though it is not a craving for blood but for food. I dip my hand into a small crock bowl filled with peanuts. I chew and swallow; it tastes so good to be eating human food. It’s funny really. The Silken Kite hands out dishes of these every night, and usually I would turn my nose up at them. People today are mere animals and hold no regard for hygiene. It was obvious they didn’t believe in washing their hands, as my heightened senses always managed to pick up that the bowls of salted nuts had an underlying smell of piss. With this thought in mind, they don’t taste nearly as favourable, so I flick the bowl across the bar. On doing so, I catch the barman’s eye.
“Pork scratchings!” I yell out over the music.
“Make that two.”
The b
arman nods as a hand slips its way between me and Tristan.
“Jazlynn…”
She drops her arm to her side.
“I tried,” she pants, “but I couldn’t keep up with her.”
We all turn towards Rose, who jumps up and down on the spot and throws her arms into the air. I pass Tristan a narrow-eyed glare.
“Are you happy the way she acts? No lady of mine would act in such a manner.”
“Lucian, there are things about Rose you don’t know. Things she has seen today which have pushed her to the edge and beyond. All of your family could smell her attempted suicide, but haven’t you stopped to ask why? Rose wouldn’t have stood a chance from the height she jumped if my arms hadn’t been there to catch her.”
I gaze back at Rose, and my frown straightens; I can even feel a slight upturn of my lips.
“She hardly ever drinks, and in all the time I’ve known her I’ve never seen her drunk, never seen her dance … well, not like this.”
I laugh. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full tonight, mate.”
I shake my head at my words; it must be the alcohol that talks, for I have no friends outside my family.
“Tristan…” The serious edge to my voice returns. “I need your honesty, so cut the crap.” I squeeze my knuckles between my hand and hear them crack one by one. “If we are to help you, we need to know what we’re letting ourselves in for.”
“Ya bags of scratchings … that’ll be three sixty, please.”
Coins jangle between Jazlynn’s fingers as she counts loose change from out of a small black purse. She places it into the barman’s hand. He is a middle-aged man with long grey hair and resembles a biker, dressed in stone-washed jeans and a black leather jacket. He peers down towards her.
“Ah, Jasmin, just the one,” he pipes up. Far too polite to correct a stranger, she stands in silence.
“Derek was pleased how your interview went last night,” he continues. “You’ve got a trial, so be here for seven a week Saturday.”
I look into the harsh lines on the barman’s face. I can’t miss the way his hazel eyes hold Jazlynn within them. He doesn’t just look, he leers. It isn’t only the barman who stares. I can see that many men have picked up on Jazlynn’s natural beauty; the shame of it is that her naivety allows her to smile back. Maybe it’s down to my over-protective ways; I should have swallowed my pride and allowed our women to go out and get jobs of their own, like me, over time, to become streetwise. With the loss of our powers I have left her vulnerable, and now fear greatly for her safety. The smiling eyes of men want so much more, yet she’s too innocent to know.