Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am just a crazed fan.
The year was 1930; three years after I'd rebelled against Carlisle's way of living. Back then, I loved the taste of human blood. I loved to feel the hot liquid rushing down my throat, staining my lips and dripping downward as my victim squirmed feebly under my grasp. I never truly did feel bad for it. After all, my prey hardly had a shred of innocence left in them. I always made sure that they were wrongdoers, so that I wouldn't feel the pestiferous guilt of having innocent blood on my shoulders.
Some other had just surfaced in Bradford, Penn., and I was about to sink into the throat of a man who had killed his wife and lover, then poisoned his son with arsenic when I was distracted by the gleam of her pendant. In my distraction, I had loosened my grip on my victim, but I fixed that in an instant. The man's thoughts were a mix of loathing for me and pleas to the Lord to save him, but they became only echoes to the single word she repeated over and over in her mind.
She seemed fair enough, but perhaps it was the darkness. It was almost time for the sun to greet the stars, after all. Her skin was light, almost pale enough to match my own, though the difference was enough to know she was alive. She seemed to have light brown hair, but again, that may have been a trick of the light. It was her eyes that shocked me. They were of a color so light that they matched the end of the sun's rays as it turned into an amber mix. They reminded me of Carlisle and his friends in Alaska. Perhaps she was an immortal after all.
I glanced back at the plaything before me for a moment, deciding on whether I should take him now or wait. She somehow managed to catch my attention and I at least wanted to know what she was so persistent on never doing. I gave him a blow to the head, hoping it was strong enough to make him forget the events of today. If not, he would be settled with tonight then. His eyes rolled back as he fell unconsciously to the ground. I slid him over behind bags full of trash of all sorts. After covering everything but a bit for him to breathe, I composed my features and made my way towards her. She was sitting on a bench and looking off into the sunset with a resolute expression playing across her face. There were buildings in her way, but it seemed as though she were looking right through them.
Then, as unwillingly as unconsciously, she turned to face in my direction, aware of my steps. That's when I realized she wasn't looking at me.
I turned behind me and moved quickly out of the woman's way. Now, her face was entirely different from this young woman's. She was plump in all areas, her cheeks red and her chin puffed out in anger. Her thin, dark eyebrows furrowed over her black irises as her golden locks fell over her forehead in disarray. The rest of her hair was pinned back in a fancy looking bun. She wore a blue cocktail dress with a fancy tie on the back and her tiny purse flailed helplessly around her as she shoved her way through the diminishing crowd of people. I must admit, she looked like a tomato playing dress-up. I slid behind a nearby tree, wanting to see as well as hear what exchange of words they would have. It seemed like a good way to pass the time tonight. After all, I was well fed. The man was just simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. A vessel for my enjoyment.
The girl on the bench stood at the sight of the woman who scrambled her way to her and sighed.
'Oh, couldn't she have waited until tomorrow? My head hurts enough already.' Thought the girl. Now that she was up, I could see clearly that her hair was also intended to be in a bun, but somehow it had come undone from the front, though the strands here and there did suit her. She was wearing a red coat with golden buttons closing off near her feet. She wore white, laced heels, but though they looked new, she seemed to have worn them out a bit. I wondered how far she'd run.
"Claudia Satine Le Faye, you get your stubborn self back in that church right now!" yelled the elder woman, still a few feet from attacking the girl-Claudia, it seemed was her name.
Claudia made a groan and turned away from the woman, grabbing something from her side. I realized it was the pendant that had turned my attention to her in the first place. It was beautiful, to say the least. Surrounded by intricate gold designs and centered with an aluminous ruby stone, I was not surprised to see why it had let off such a bright shine. She began to walk away from the woman.
"I will do no such thing." She called over her shoulders. 'Forgive me, Aunt Paulyne, but I refuse to end up as unhappy as you.' She thought.
"Yes, you-" Paulyne began to retort, but cut herself short, another plan brewing in her mind. "Your father would like to see you married, dear. You know he would, so why not do it for him?" she finally said; toning down her previous yells into soft, maternal words. Smart. She was using family as a weapon. I wondered if Claudia would go for it. Apparently her father meant a lot to her.
Claudia turned to face her aunt immediately, her face twisted in sudden anger.
"Of course he would want me married. The difference there is that he would want me to marry someone I love!" she called. The following words came out mockingly, though she was laughing at her own misfortune for having to live with this woman for five years. I wasn't making assumptions here; it was simply her thought process. "At the very least he'd want me to have met the man before! Do you realize that I don't even know his name? That he doesn't even know mine?" she asked, incredulously.
It was not unheard of, even now. Arranged marriage, that is. I was glad that I wouldn't have to worry about that for a long time. Perhaps I never would. That seemed like a good plan. Women were so complicated to me, so easily fooled or angered. They were hardly any fun. Well, at the time, at least.
"He is good for you. Surely even you see that. You know that he would do well for us-for your mother as well." Paulyne said, clearly struggling to keep her voice kind.
"Oh, no, no, no. You keep my mother out of this." Claudia said, beginning to walk away again. She tripped over something but quickly recovered herself and picked up the thing that had brought her down. It was a mahogany bag, perhaps meant to be a purse but it was a bit too big for that. Her aunt noticed it as well. 'The money…' she thought to herself in disbelief. 'How on earth did she know where it was?'
"What are you doing with that?" she asked Claudia.
"I'm going away." Claudia replied, walking a little slower, a little sadness overtaking her. "Auntie, I know how much trouble I am for you and Uncle, but I will not change my ways." She whispered, just loud enough for her aunt to hear. "I think you'd agree that it be best I just leave you be." She ended that as her farewell. She stuck her head up high, that definite expression on her face again. There was a carriage with a few boxes tied to most of its seat. Only a little space for a person was available.
"Wait, Claudy!" called a male voice. He seemed to be a little older than Claudia's aunt, so I presumed that it was her uncle. His jaw was strong, his face kind. I would say he must have been handsome as a young man.
"Unlike your aunt, I won't try to stop you. I know how free spirited that father of yours made you, and I see how useless it would be to try and change your mind. But, please," he cut off. He had a bit of a Texan accent, which surprised me a bit. She turned to him as she got on the vehicle. I could tell that she was trying very hard not to cry.
"Please, just tell us where you'll be staying. I promised your father that I would care for you and I plan on keeping my word even when you're no longer in my house."
Claudia smiled at her uncle. She had a nice smile. Very soft and elegant in a way. "It's the little cabin where I grew up. It's vacant right now, and it's just the right size for me to be there. You remember where it is, don't you?" she asked. Her uncle nodded and that was it. The driver went off, leaving her uncle to follow it with his eyes until it was no longer in view and her aunt to some more screaming.
I tried not to, but I couldn't refrain from finding out where this cabin of hers was. Why was I so interested? She was only an insignificant human and all that was good for was food. Well, not even that, since she'd never done a wrong deed. I'd searched each of their minds and though the aunt was very vain, that was hardly a surprise from women in these days. So, why the interest?
I shook my head as I followed the driver to a little opening into a small area of woodland. I could see the little home now. It was made of strong wood, and a little chimney for the fireplace stuck out from the top. A black woman-servant, perhaps- opened the door and when the carriage arrived, she helped her mistress to bring down her things. It was strange how Claudia treated her so well. She never looked down upon her, which surprised me. Her name was Alessandra, if I remember correctly.
That night they both tired themselves to sleep. They had been moving furniture around to their pleasure and putting their belongings where they wanted them. The servant even had a room and bed to herself. No talk of her sleeping in the attic or in the fairly large closet space they had. Claudia fell asleep reading Jane Austen's 'Sense and Sensibility'. Her hair was loose now and some strands stuck to her lip from the heat of the fire. Alessandra laid a blanket over her before sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her.
'Oh, Miss Claudia, I do hope it all goes well. I really do.' She thought. She worried herself to sleep, and neither of them woke up until afternoon from all the work they'd done the night before. Alessandra made some soup for them and afterwards, Claudia went out into the woods. I followed her to a small lagoon near the cabin. She sank down to her knees and looked out to the water as it moved around gracefully.
I looked toward the sky. It was clouded and it seemed as though it would stay that way for quite some time. I took the omen and stepped out into her view.
It's weird. When I was writing the first few paragraphs, the way he was describing only hunting evil reminded me of Lestat. Not the words, exactly, but rather the way he sounds. Sophisticated, but cynical/sadistic. I don't know, maybe I'm just obsessed with him. Oh, well. Review please!