The Adventures of Rebecca the Vindictive Vamp
Summary: Spin-off from Red Eyes and the She Wolf. "I wasn't always the monster I became over time. This is the story of my life and not-quite death." A short story covering Rebecca's transformation, her life as a vampire, and her lost love, Robert.
I do not own Stephenie Meyer's Twilight universe, no copyright infringement intended. Rebecca the vindictive vamp, however, is a product of my own twisted imagination.
This short three chapter story is the background of an original character introduced in my multi-chapters Red Eyes and the She Wolf and The Burning of Lucius Demetrius Flavius. If you have read these stories, then you know why I finish the story where I do—some things are best left to the imagination. Reading these stories isn't essential, but it would be handy to have some knowledge of the Volturi's history in my world, and how Rebecca ends up.
Thank you to my friend, Becky, for not minding me using her name for a not so nice character. I hope Robert goes some way towards making up for it!
Thanks also to WolvesCanEatMe, WolfGirlAtHeart and BforQueen for their help with this little flight of fancy. You're full of awesomeness, guys!
WARNING – THIS GETS PRETTY DARK – REBECCA DIDN'T HAVE AN EASY LIFE/DEATH. RAPE, MURDER, SCENES OF A SEXUAL NATURE. – JEEZ, YOU'D THINK THIS WAS A HORROR STORY!
Written to the sound of "For the Love of a Princess" on the Braveheart soundtrack.
I imagine Rebecca to look like Megan Fox, and Leofrid, like the unknown guy on my banner, who is mainly photo manipulation.
Chapter One – The Weaker Sex
11th Century Normandy
I ran as fast as I could through the forest, panting and gasping for breath. The light was fading fast and unlike my pursuers, I did not have the advantage of torches. Over the sound of my heavy breathing, I could still hear their voices behind me.
I held my skirts up so they would snag less, and I made my way across the muddy earth, knowing that with each step I was more thoroughly lost. I had no idea where I was heading, but I couldn't let them catch me. By my own actions, I had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.
My husband, Jacques, had been drafted into a makeshift army to help defend the Duke's lands against the invading Bretons from the West. I had last seen him six months ago, and heard no word since. Being uneducated but still a woman of some common sense, I knew that it was highly unlikely that I would see him again.
Jacques had been a farmer, not a fighter. I had mourned him from the moment he'd walked out of the door.
Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it, I was childless. Unable to manage my small home on my own, I had moved in with my sister. Being another mouth to feed in an already poor household, my brother-in-law had attempted on more than one occasion to take payment from me in other ways. I was not the type of woman to lie back and give up the fight and he remained frustrated.
Not that he was a threat any longer.
My sister and I had been preparing a soup from what few ingredients we could find, when Gil had rushed home from the fields, yelling at my sister to find his hunting bow and his long knife.
A group of Bretons had attacked him and a few other men while they worked, and Gil had barely escaped with his life. Matilda had begged him to run, but instead, he'd insisted that he wasn't going to let anyone turn him out of his home. My brother-in-law had never been a man of much intelligence, but we followed his insistence and stayed.
Matilda, the children, and I had hidden inside the house, underneath a wooden table in the middle of the room. We huddled together, my niece and nephew sobbing, and my sister whispering to keep them calm; it wasn't long until we heard fighting outside.
We knew that Gil had been overpowered before the door burst open, and the strangely accented Frenchmen had stormed inside. Our hiding place was as good as useless and we were roughly dragged from underneath the table.
My sister and the children had been taken outside screaming, but one of the men had held me back.
Lean through lack of food and still in possession of a girlish figure due to my inability to conceive, I looked younger than my twenty-three years. I was also well aware that my wavy, dark hair set off my pale, blue eyes, and that the opposite sex took a great interest in me. In this moment, however, I would have given anything to have my sister's matronly build—I was keen enough to know that no matter what happened in this room now, my ultimate fate would be no different from Matilda's and her offspring.
I screamed and struggled as the large, ginger brute grabbed me and pushed me into a corner, whispering coarse sounding words in a version of French I did not understand. I had no wish to know exactly what it was that he was saying.
As I tried to push his hands away from me, I avoided his mouth as his foul breath filled my lungs. He tried to lift my dress but I struggled for all I was worth, and was rewarded with a stinging palm against my right cheek.
Stunned, I stopped fighting and the red-haired monster took this as a sign of my submission, but he was wrong. I took a few moments to look around me and saw the knife that I had been using earlier to chop mushrooms; it was hardly the sharpest of implements, and not much of a weapon in comparison to the swords that the Bretons carried. While the beast pinning me to the wall shifted in preparation, I leaned slightly to one side, grabbed the knife, and instinctively thrust it into the side of his neck.
The man froze and as blood spattered across my shocked face; his eyes glazed over and he dropped first to his knees, and then to the floor.
At first, I did not move and instead watched as the man that I had just killed gurgled his last breath. I remained motionless until I heard the unmistakable ring of a sword being drawn outside.
In our tiny, round dwelling, there was a smaller rear door; I bolted for it, and headed for the cover of the trees not far away. Before I'd managed to reach the cover of the forest, an arrow whistled past me—the other Breton soldiers had realised I was gone.
Since that moment, I hadn't even paused for breath. They were still close behind, and I knew that a terrible end would befall me if I allowed them to catch up. I'd rather run myself into the ground first.
The sun set and then I could barely see a foot in front of me, but I could see a faint yellow glow of torches through the trees as the Bretons continued their pursuit. Now and again, they called out and taunted me. They knew I was here, and I guessed now I was just sport.
My lungs burned and my entire body ached; I was cut and bruised from where I'd stumbled and come across unexpected trees in the dark. Exhausted, I could barely manage to walk and my tormentors gained on me.
I glanced behind me and wondered how long I had left before they eventually caught me. Taking another step forward, I froze.
In front of me was a man; his hair was dark and he wore a mail shirt, but I could barely make out much more about him in the dark. I took a sharp intake of breath and stepped backwards, tripping over a stone and falling to the ground.
He whispered something in a foreign language, not Breton, and paused. He looked up and saw the approaching torches.
"Norman?" he said to me in my own native tongue, and I nodded, still unable to speak as I inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Wait here. I will deal with them."
Unable to do anything else but comply, I did not move a muscle and instead stayed sitting with my legs at awkward angles from the fall.
I did not know what the stranger intended on doing, but with his armour he seemed to be a nobleman. Maybe he was my knight in shining armour come to protect my virtue? It was a shame he was only one and the Breton thugs were many.
There was a commotion in the direction of the torches, and I heard shouts and cries before it went silent. I quietly thanked the brave but stupid knight for his attempt to take the men on, and braced myself for one final struggle as torchlight approached.
When it finally got near, I saw that it was only one solitary man walking toward me.
"They will not bother you again, miss," the knight said, and once he came a little closer, I saw his pale face in the dim light for the first time. He was handsome, and he wore a tunic with unfamiliar colours over his expensive mail. "Would you like to come with me? It's a long journey to the nearest settlement, but I would be glad to escort you."
I waited a moment while I thought. Always suspicious of men's motives, I wondered what he might possibly want in return.
"What were you doing out here in the forest?" I said, hoping the question might give me some kind of clue as to what kind of man my rescuer was. Though he had undoubtedly been my saviour, something about him made me feel uneasy—the way he seemed so still and so calm, though he had just single-handedly battled five armed and dangerous men.
"I was hunting." He spoke French with a strange tone to his vowels, and I could not place where he was from, but he was not Norman.
The foreigner held his hand out to me, and I apprehensively took it and got to my feet. His skin was strangely cold and solid, but I guessed that if he had been standing out here in the dark for a while, he was likely to be frozen.
Now that I was no longer sprinting for my life, I began to feel the cold myself, and I guessed that wandering in the woods on my own was far more dangerous than having someone who wasn't lost to guide and protect me.
"Do you have a horse?" I looked up at him and watched the flickering shadows on his face in the torchlight. He smiled.
"No, I travel on foot. Sorry, I forgot that you must be tired. Would you rather wait until morning?"
I said nothing while I weighed up my options. I did not feel safe here in the woods with a stranger, but I really didn't have anywhere safer to go. My body screamed at me for rest, and in the end I gave in.
"Yes." I looked around for somewhere mossier and less stony to get comfortable.
"Let me light a fire." The knight passed me the torch and headed off into the dark to gather wood. I wondered how he would be able to see, but he came back sooner than expected with armfuls of kindling. Luckily, it had been a reasonably dry autumn and the wood wasn't sodden.
I sat hunched up into a ball while he got the fire going. He took his green and yellow tunic off and sat there in his mail, giving his unwanted garment to me. I wrapped it around me tightly.
"Lie down. Go to sleep—I will keep watch."
I lay down on the ground, and I finally decided that the stranger's kind acts had earned my trust. Closing my eyes, I forgot about the cold and allowed my tired legs to rest.
When I drifted off into bloody dreams, I was back in my sister's house and alone with my would-be rapist. I replayed the scene that had happened earlier, but this time, as my knife punctured the side of his neck and he dropped to the ground, he transformed into Jacques. In my dream I gasped and fell to my knees beside my cold, unmoving husband. Sobbing, I realised that I'd killed the man I loved.
Then I awoke with a shock. For a few moments I wondered where I was, but I saw my rescuer still sitting across the fire from me.
"It's all right. You were dreaming."
I rubbed my eyes and sat up, pulling my yellow and green blanket closer around me. The warmth from the fire burned my face, but my back felt icy.
"Are you still cold?" I startled as I realised that the stranger had moved and now sat closer to me, staring into the flames. I'd been so distracted I hadn't seen him move.
"Yes. Do you have any food?"
His eyes snapped to mine. "No, I don't. That was why I was here in the woods, hoping to find some."
I almost smiled, and took over flame-staring where the stranger had left off. We sat without speaking for a while, until he broke the silence.
"What is your name?"
I turned to find him looking at me.
"It's a pretty name. Are you married?"
I looked at him and scowled—so this was what all his chivalry came down to. He saw my displeasure in my eyes.
"I only meant to ask as I was wondering why you came to be here in the forest, too."
"My husband is dead, and probably has been for some time. I lived with my sister and her family, but they were murdered by the Bretons. If you hadn't been waiting here, I most likely would have joined them."
"I'm sorry. Do you have anyone else that you could go to?"
I shook my head. "No. It's just me now." Staring into the flames, it finally dawned on me how alone I really was. Tears began to well in my eyes, and I sniffed and wiped them away with the back of my hand.
Suddenly, I felt stone-like arms around me, and my face was pressed into a solid, metal-covered chest. My tearful sniffs became wails, and the stranger's hands stroked my hair.
After what seemed to be an eternity, I was all cried out, but we stayed huddled together. I expected his body to feel warm, but instead he felt as icy as the night air. I guessed that chain mail wasn't the warmest garment to wear, and feeling guilty, I adjusted the blanket so it covered both of us.
Finally, I looked up at him and examined his face close up. He was clean shaven, and quite handsome. His skin was blemish free and seemingly pale; in the firelight I couldn't make out the shade of his eyes, but they seemed dark.
"What is your name? I should at least know who you are, seeing as you saved me earlier. It would be nice to have a name to go with my gratitude."
His eyes looked down at me, and I suddenly became aware of exactly how close we were to one another.
"Leofrid." He watched my face intently for a moment and I stared back in return, momentarily lost in the angle of his cheekbones and caught in his unblinking gaze.
He looked away and I snapped out of my daze.
"You're not Norman," I stated.
"Where are you from, Leofrid? Are you a knight?"
I noticed the sides of his mouth twitch. "I'm from England, across the sea. And I'm many things, but a knight isn't one of them."
I wondered how he came about his mail and his colours, but instead I asked a different question. "Why did you save me?"
His eyes snapped back to mine. "How could I not? It would have been a shame if someone so beautiful had perished instead of those animals. I'm not a saint, Rebecca. I'm no more gallant than the next...human."
"You're the only kind man I've come across in a long time. Not many people would have taken on five armed men over one girl, alone in the woods."
His mouth twitched again. "They weren't much of a match for me. It was my pleasure to end them, I assure you." His cold hand tilted my chin until he stared directly into my eyes. "I'm glad that I did save you, because I don't often have company. For tonight, I will play the hero, but trust me when I say that I'm not deserving of such a title. Tomorrow, I will be something different entirely."
I looked at him in confusion, but then my gaze dropped to his lips, and then back to his eyes. Registering the action, Leofrid paused, before slowly moving his mouth in toward mine.
His lips were as cold as the rest of him, making my own seem warm in comparison. I now felt twice as guilty that I had the bulk of the blanket over me, and I lifted my palms to the sides of his face, trying to warm him as our mouths gently moved against each other.
He pushed me back until I laid on the earth and leaned over me, his hand dropping from my jaw, down my neck and along my collarbone, until I could feel its coldness cupping my breast through my dress.
My palms moved from his face and up into his hair. Leofrid pulled his face away from mine and looked down at me.
His eyes looked almost black in the darkness, and I knew enough to recognise lust on the face of a man. Men didn't often show me unconditional generosity; Leofrid hadn't tried to force anything from me—the kiss was probably more encouraged by myself than him. He was handsome, and had rescued me from rape and certain death.
I wanted to reward his chivalry in the only way I knew how, so I lifted my mouth to his again.
Our kiss changed and became less gentle. His hands opened the fastenings on my bodice to allow him access to my naked flesh, and I moaned aloud. Finally, his hands began pulling up my dress until it was up around my hips and the links of his mail shirt dug into my thighs.
He paused and struggled for a few moments to remove himself from the confines of his metal shirt and the padding underneath while I lay still and watched him. Underneath, his body was toned, but still lean with youth. He couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen, yet when he was covered he had seemed so much older. There was something about his face that made him seem positively ancient in comparison to the rest of his physique.
Once completely naked, he leaned over me again, and I wrapped my naked legs around him. I wasn't a virgin—I knew what came next.
Leofrid paused and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. He looked serious. "I know this is your way of saying thank you. When you wake up, please understand that it was my way of saying thank you to you, too. I know you are alone—I want you to be able to fend for yourself."
My forehead wrinkled as I tried to comprehend what he was saying to me, but then his mouth met mine again and I melted into forgetfulness. His icy hands held my hips and then he pushed forward and entered me. My breath caught, but on the second thrust, I sighed.
Leofrid then rested on his forearms and buried his face in the curve of my neck as he moved rhythmically. He was cold everywhere and I worried that he was in the process of freezing to death. I wrapped my limbs more firmly around him, resulting in a quiet whimper in my ear.
He began to move more quickly and I arched to meet him. One of his fingers drifted up my body, feeling like an icicle as it passed over my bodice, lingered around my breast, and then a palm settled against my jaw.
I smiled as I looked up at the blanket of trees above me, and saw the occasional star peeping through.
Then Leofrid tensed and hissed. Suddenly, I felt stinging pain at my neck and I tried to pull myself away, but the tender hand at my jaw suddenly became a firm grip, holding me steady.
I cried out and then suddenly I was on my own, lying by the fire with my dress bunched up and bodice unfastened. Leofrid was gone in an instant. Touching a hand to my neck, I wondered whether it had all been real, but when I looked at my fingers, I saw the unmistakable redness of blood coating them.
Then pain. Searing pain—starting from my neck and quickly spreading throughout my entire body. I screamed—the noise of my agony reverberated amongst the trees with no one to hear. I shrieked and writhed until the sun had long risen and set again, and I was sure the cycle of night and day had passed at least one more time.
Finally, all the pain seemed to retreat into my chest, where my heart pounded frantically. Thudding like a drum, it gave its last beats and then stopped.
I laid still and looked about, able to see as if for the first time. Not only could I see trees and the ashes of the long dead fire, but I saw them in intense detail—every crack in the bark, every shining grain of ash, every leaf, and every pebble on the earth.
The most overwhelming sensation of all was the dryness in my throat—every waft of air that passed between my lips seemed to make it burn even more fiercely.
I tentatively got to my feet. Taking a deep lungful, I registered many different scents, and was able to recognise many of them. Earth, grass, small animal, leaves, death, and something unmistakeably sweet and familiar. I did not have to guess what it was—though everything before the torture seemed hidden by a veil, I remembered Leofrid's clean scent.
I got to my feet and followed it, fastening my loosened bodice as I went. When I moved, the action seemed effortless—I stopped and marvelled at myself, holding my hand in front of my face and wondering how it now seemed to have lost its lines and calluses. I now looked as if I'd never done a day of work in my life, and my skin was almost white in its paleness.
The smell of decomposition assaulted my nostrils, and I headed to my right to find a number of rotten bodies lying on the ground, their stomachs bloated and the stench disgusting to me. I headed away and tried to find the sweet trail again; it led me through the woods until I exited and found myself in front of the burnt remains of a familiar hut.
I thought that I should cry, but no tears would come. Instead, I walked amongst the blackened wood, until I found a small knife beside a charred corpse. I picked it up and wiped it; it was the only souvenir I took.
Following the clean scent, I moved with startling speed through Normandy, until I reached the coast. I walked along a sandy beach for the first time ever, filling my chest with salt-air and realising that the trail ended at the water's edge. He was from across the water, from England. That would be where I would find him.
First, I needed to get across, but I had no boat. I headed east along the sand, until I saw a settlement in the distance. Initially, I had planned to ask if there was any way I could be taken across, knowing that the only belonging I had with me to barter with was the knife I tucked into my bodice.
When I got closer, a subconscious reaction took over me entirely. Before I knew what I was doing, I had sprinted into the village and proceeded to devour the occupants. I allowed many to flee, and once I'd had my fill of the blood of those who hadn't been so lucky, I slumped to the ground and surveyed the destruction I had caused.
What was happening to me? I had no idea. After sleeping with Leofrid and after he had bitten me, I had become a monster. I had just drunk human blood, and had been powerless to hold myself back. My actions had been entirely unthinking, and now I had time to dwell on what I had done.
Still, no tears fell from my eyes. I felt as cold as my body temperature, which I now recognised as the same as Leofrid's.
After what felt like days waiting, I cleaned myself in the sea, washing off all the dried blood from myself and my dress. An idea occurred to me. Once dressed again, I walked further into the water, hoping to drown myself and destroy the godless beast I had become. My lungs filled with water, but the ending I hoped for did not come.
Disheartened I headed back to shore, before stopping and looking back. I could not sail a boat, but if I could not drown, maybe I could swim to this strange country across the water. Wading back in, I tried my plan, swimming far out and finding that I did not tire. Through the dark I swam, until at dawn I caught sight of land.
I walked lightly over the sand, while water dripped from my drenched hair and clothing; I felt like some kind of sea monster emerging from the depths. Now, the burn in my throat was consuming all my thoughts, though in my own mind I recoiled from it. Part of me hoped that I would find somewhere inhabited soon, while the rest of me prayed that I would not.
I left the beach and headed inland to see which part of me would get its wish.