Meeting the night


By: Ash Knight


Chapter 1


"Bree! Bree, are you listening to me!"
"Sorry bro, I was thinking. What were you saying?"
"I was saying how much your going to like it here. Staying here with me. " Her brother said, giving her a hopeful look in the rear view mirror.
Last month their parents had gone out one night to go on a date, but on the way, they had been in a head on collision with a semi. They had both been killed and now Bree was supposed to stay with her older brother Jack. The memory was still strong for Bree, she could remember every word from the news broadcast on the night of the collision.
But, what she remembered most wasn't the words spoken by the young newswoman, or by her baby sitter, by the words of the truck driver.


"Too the families that will be suffering because of these deaths I would like to apologize, for I did not know that my truck was going as fast as it was. If I could change anything about tonight, it would be the deaths of all these young people, and the sufferings of their families. Too these families I say, I am truly sorry for the toile this will take on all of you and I hope that someday these families will be able to forgive me."

"Sure, why not. Civilization won't miss me anyway." She said, referring to the fact that her brother lived in the middle of nowhere in a small town named Riverbend. Come on, how much lamer do you get? Riverbend, really?
"Now, Bree, don't be like that. We grew up in Riverbend. You should love the place, not hate it."
"You see, that’s the key word, should. You're my brother, so I guess its only fair to warn you now. I never do what I should. I do what I want to do. And, since you so kindly pointed out that should love this place, I shall hate it. And, yes, I do it just to spite people."
"You are a weird, creepy, and complex, little creature." He said, shaking his head as he pulled up the drive of a small white house, wooden obviously, and parked out front.
The house its self wasn't so bad. But if you added the sterio type of a happy country wife home, you saw it for what it was. Awful. There were flowerbeds all in front of the wrap around porch, the mailbox, and, a rose bush was decorating all four corners of the house.
"What do you think? Sally did it all herself." He said, pointing his chin in the direction of all the flowers.
"I think your wife just might be a stereo type, house wife." She said, grabbing her duffel bag and leaving her brother to get the box and suitcase she had brought.
"Sally, we're here! You home, babe?" He yelled as they walked into the house. The living room was a dark green, with antique furniture, and a medium sized t.v.
"Coming! I was just putting the gifts for your sister in her room!" A soprano bell sang.
"Ok, we're in the living room honey!" He yelled back.
"Gifts?" Bree asked, staring at her brother in annoyance. He may have been twelve years older than her, but he knew her low tolerance for surprises. Especially when she didn't know what they were.
"Yeah, a couple people from town who remembered mom and pop decided to send you a few welcoming gifts. Me and Sally, naturally, helped out by putting in gifts ourselves." He explained, looking at her apologetically.
Her only response was to narrow her grey eyes at her brother and give him a short silent treatment.
"So, where is the dear? You did pick her up, didn't you?" A voice said from the top of the stairs. Coming down the steps was a pretty blond with a heart shaped face and big, sky blue eyes. She was dressed casually, her hair twisted at the nape of her neck, a white t-shirt, and skinny jeans. No jewelry, except for the thin wedding band on her left hand ring finger.
"Right here she is. Bree, this is my wonderful wife, Sally. Sally, this is my baby sister, Bree." Her brother said, setting the luggage down to walk over, kiss his wife, and take her hand.
"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Bree. I've heard so much about you." Sally said, her soprano bell voice sounding like an angels compared to Bree's brother's ruff and ragged voice.
"Hi." Bree said in a detached voice.
"Bree, be nice and shake your sister-in-law's hand." Her brother said sternly.
"Fine," She said, taking Sally's hand and giving it one professional pump, then dropping it to turn and stare at her brother. "What now, daddy?" She asked, letting every drip of sarcasm out..
Her brother narrowed his eyes, and she did the same. Battle of the wills. Jack lost. But, he didn't give in.
"Well, for starters, you can go to your room and unpack, little girl."
"Fine, later." She said, she already knew where her room was. They were, after all, in their old home. Where she, and Jack had grown up most of their lives.
She had her old room; it was a small room, with a window that out looked the back yard. It had black curtains, a black carpet, and black walls. It was Goth heaven. While she was surprised her brother hadn't insisted on painting and refurnishing it, what caught her attention most, was the letter on her dresser that seemed to glow a blood red.
Walking over, she picked it up. It had her name in a fancy old-fashioned script on the red envelope. Opening it, she saw that the paper was a pale, paler that a usual pale, white. The words were black, bold, and fancy. The letter read,-


Dear Ms. Anderson,
The Remington family would like to welcome you back to your home, and, if you choose to except, to offer you a formal invitation to our home. It is an open invitation so please visit whenever you can. Our address is at the bottom of the page for you dear. We do hope you enjoy your stay, and we would like to offer our most humble apologies for what happened to your parents. Goodbye for now, Breanne.
Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Remington


Our Address: 1301 Sycamore lane


Bree slowly laid the letter down. Remembering the old house at Sycamore lane. The old Barlow place, it had been empty for years. Why would people who sound so refined want that old place? She wondered.
She had always liked the old house, with its 1800's style and gothic gloom look. The five story building was wonderfull. It was better than the house on the show The Adam's Family, and she seriously loved that show. She'd fallen in love with the house the day she saw it. She had always dreamed of owning it. But she had only seen the inside of the magnificent old building once.
She had been seven years old, and she had snuck through the big iron gates in front of the Barlow drive. She had tried to get in by the front door but it wouldn't open, so she had went around back to see if there was a window, she could climb through. She had found a basement window and was about to try to get in when she heard laughing.
Quick as lightning, she had hid behind a bush just in time. Three teenage boys came around the back of the house and it looked like the two that were farther back were pushing the third one forward.
"Oh, come on guys! You can't be serious! You want me to sneak into a house where the owner killed himself and his family, just to prove I deserve my spot on the football team!?" The third one had asked, she had recognized his voice as Alex Johnson. He was the dentist’s son, a senior at the local high school, and a dream to the eyes of girls everywhere.
"Yep, and if you do it, and bring out proof that you did. We'll leave it alone and not tease you for being the dentist’s kid anymore." One of the other boys said, but his voice had been too slurred from drinking to tell who it was.
"Fine, but, one more crack about it after this and I'll throw you both down into the basement of this place." Alex threatened.
"Sure, just hurry. We're going back to the truck. See you soon, we hope." The last boy said, as the two drunken boys walked away.
"You might as well come out of there," Alex said when his pals were out of hearing distance; turning to stare at the bush she had been behind. "Are you even old enough to be out alone at this time of night kid?"
"Are, you really stupid enough to let them tell you what you should and shouldn't do?" She retorted, coming out of hiding. Her combat boots crunched on fallen leaves and twigs. Her black t-shirt, jeans, and boots made her very hard to see, but her eyes gave her away. They were an odd shade of gray, somewhere between silver and steel.
"Ok, so you have me there. Hey, you’re the Anderson kid aren't you?"
"Yep, Anderson. Bree Anderson." She had said. She had been obsessed with James Bond since she was five and she loved to do the name quote, but with her name.
Alex laughed quietly, staring at her.
"So, you're gonna go into the Barlow house, huh?" She'd asked, feeling slightly envious that he got the chance and didn't want to take it.
"Yep, say, how'd you like to help me out? I have no clue how to get into the house unless I break a window. And, I'm not so sure the cops would appreciate that. You think you could find me another way in?"
"Really? Me? Awesome! Sure thing Alex! Hey, wait right here, don't go no where!"
"If you say so kid."
She had run over to the basement window and measured it as best she could with just her hands. Then she ran back to Alex and held her hands up to his shoulders, measuring again.
"What in God's name are you doing kid?" He asked in confusion.
"Measuring, what’s it look like I'm doing'?"
"Oh! Ok?"
"Ok, lets go, we'll both go in, I'll help you get real proof that you've been in there!" She said, promising.
"Ok, I guess" He said, sounding somewhat nervous.
She had lead Alex over to the window and he had helped her through and she had waited for him with little patience. She had told him to sit on one of the boxes in the basement, and she had taken off into the house only to return moments later, with a woman’s ruby necklace. It had been on the fireplace in the front room.
"Wow, where'd you find this at kid?"
"My name is Bree, not kid. And it was on the fireplace. Now lets go, your friends are starting to sing, and loudly."
"Ok, let’s get you of here ...Bree."
She had smiled when he had called her by her name, and let him lift her out the window. When they were safely out, they put a wooden board in front of the window so no one else would get to use their secret entrance.
Before he left, Alex had bent down and kissed her on the cheek, making her blush. And, he had taken off his arrowhead necklace and hooked it around her neck.
"Later, and thanks kid. From now on, you'll never have to worry about bullies, or boys, until you’re interested in them that is, but then again, I might even scare them off then." He said, then he ran off, around the house, yelling, "Guys, look! I got it! I have proof! Now let’s get out of here before the cops show up!" She hadn't gotten to go back to the house since, but she had always dreamed of it.
At dinner she decided, she would ask her brother about the Remington’s.


Chapter 2


"Jack, do you know the Remington’s?" She asked later that night at dinner.
"Yeah, their new to town. Been here about two days. Why?"
"Nothing, I just saw their name on one of the letters and didn't recognize it."
"Oh, well, their very nice people. Couldn't find better people in the entire world even if I looked myself."
"You left out the part where they bought the Old Barlow place. Quite frankly, and we both already know this, I don't care if their as nice as Peter Pan. All I want to know is, will they take good care of the Barlow place? You know how much that old house means to me."
"Oh, I guess I did leave that part out, didn't I? Well, yes, I do believe they'll take care of it. It is, after all, their home now."
"Cool, ok. Long as you're sure." She said, and he shook hid head yes in response. “Ok, so, do you mind if I go out for a little while? It's been a long time since I saw this place. It will be good to get a look around town and...Well, anyway. Do you mind?"
"Sure, go ahead. Just don't be out to late, ok?"
"Sure thing. Thanks bro. Later Jack, Sally." She said, nodding to both, quickly she ran up the stairs to her room and grabbed her black nike sneakers, and her black and gray camo coat. Before she left, she got a look in her mirror.
With her long, wavy, black hair up in her usual ponytail, a short-sleeved black tee on under her open jacket, black jeans and sneakers, she looked like any other Goth teen. Especially with the three rings on the upper part of her ear, and, her choker, and black nail polish.
Quickly she turned her attention back to the task at hand, and, before leaving her room, she swiped the red envelope, with the invite in it, off her dresser and ran down the stairs and out the door.


The thick iron gates of the Barlow home swung open as she pressed slowly closer. Her '74 dodge charger r/t clone was trying to stall once again. It was so weird. Her car usually worked so well. But if it insisted on being stubborn, well, she could be stubborn to. She pressed the gas hard and continued up the drive.
When she got to the house, she turned off the engine and stepped out of the jet-black car. The house looked amazing. All the boards and shingles were in perfect position, painted a nice dull white, with black shingles and a black front door.
She slowly made her way up the steps of the old-fashioned wrap around porch. Pausing at the door for a moment, then, she knocked slowly on the door and waited. A moment later, it opened slowly, a man with gray hair and a wiry build stood on the other side. He spoke slowly, but with such practice and etiquette that it wasn't quite as slow as it was practiced.
"Mr. and Mrs. Remington are expecting you Madam'. I will take you to them. Please, follow me." He said, closing the grand door behind her as she entered. Then, turning abruptly to the left, he led her into a huge room with great antique furniture and beautiful, 18oo century styled paintings.
"May I present, Miss. Anderson." The butler said in a polite yet guarded tone.
"Yes, please, bring her in, bring her in!" A beautiful, feminine voice said. It seemed to come from one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. The same one she had gotten the necklace from so long ago.
"She is right here Madam'. I have rooms to buttle, so, I shall depart now." The butler said in a sophisticated voice.
"Goodnight, Arnold." The voice said.
"Goodnight, Madam'." He replied, turning and leaving the room.
Within a few moments, their peaceful silence turned awkward.
"Do tell me dear, why haven't you seated yourself?" The beautiful and mysterious voice asked.
"Oh, well I was just..." What was she doing, she asked herself, walking into a stranger’s home because they had asked her to do so?
"Forget it, dear. Please, have a seat."
"Ok?"
She slowly rounded to take the third seat in front of the unlit fireplace. It was a loveseat.
"So, my dear, whatever took you so long?" A beautiful woman with black hair and a trailing black gown asked, it was obvious that hers was the voice that had been speaking. To her left, a tall and handsome man sat, he had silver blond hair, and they both had the same striking pale blue eyes. The man was wearing a full black three-piece business suit, and sipping at a club soda.
"I had to have dinner with my brother. By the way, why did you invite me over here? You guys obviously don't know me since you only moved here a few days ago. And, how did you know about my parents? The word has barely gotten around to the rest of my family. So how did you find out?"
"Well, we invited you because your story intrigued us, my dear." The man answered, "And we know, because we have good ears and are very patient."
"Ok, whatever." She said, becoming uncomfortable, "Look, is there a reason you asked me to come? One that makes sence but isn't creepy?"
The man and woman laughed in unison. But stopped abruptly when the front door opened and closed.
"Ah! That must be Vincent now!" The woman said, "Vincent is our son. You know, he's about your age. You'll love him, you two have a lot in common.”
"Mother, you and father are not playing match makers again, are you?" A low but beautiful voice said from the entry into the parlor. It was like listening to music. But, the voice paled in comparison to its owner. The young man was tall, dark, and most defiantly, oh-so-devilishly, handsome.
He had the same pale blue eyes as his parents, and he had his mother’s hair. A dark, raven black.
His eyes caught even more attention thanks to the fact that he was wearing a long sleeved, black, shirt. He was wearing black jeans and black combat boots as well. His hair was messy, disheveled, and Just long enough that some of the strands feel on his forehead.
“Not much dear, only a tad. Come, you must meet our guest.” His mother said, motioning one handedly to the other half of the love seat Bree was sitting on.
“Mother, why does this lovely creature look like she’s been tortured?” He asked, walking up to Bree, her mouth finally closing, only to drop again when he picked up her hand and kissed it.
She muttered a curse under her breath and pulled her hand gingerly away. Knowing she was blushing only made it worse, and worse yet it got when she saw a small smile flicker across his face at her blush.
Squaring her chin, she lifted it slightly.
“Does she really? I hadn’t noticed. Dear girl, are you feeling alright?” His mother asked, looking slightly confused.
“I’m fine, the tortured look comes from not liking to be frustrated, and not being able to help it much in this case.” She answered bluntly.
“Well, got a bit of a temper do we? Tell me, what is so frustrating?” Vincent asked with true curiosity.
“Yes, I do have a temper, an awful one. What is so frustrating is that your parents invited me here, and won’t tell me why. And, if it was just so they could play match maker, then they should know, right here and now, that I don’t date.” She said in a deadly voice, staring at each of them with the same look.
“Trust me, even if that were their only purpose, you wouldn’t have anything to worry about, I don’t date either” He said, sounding unsurprised, as if he had know she would say so.
“Humph.”
His only response to her answer was to smirk smugly at her. Then, abruptly as if nothing had even been said, Bree stood.
“Thanks for the entertainment,” She sneered, “But I have to get home now, I have a car to fix.”
“Oh, can’t you stay a little longer?” Mrs. Remington asked in a pleading voice.
“Nope, I have places to go, people to see, and guys to turn down.” She said, turning and strolling to the door. Slamming it behind her, just for good measure. Show them, she thought as she climbed into her car, show them to play matchmaker with me!
She slipped down the road, and, being enveloped in the darkness where no one could see, she remembered how Vincent’s lips had felt against her hand, soft, mildly warm, and very, very, good. She blushed as she thought about how his lips would feel …And taste, against her own.


Chapter 3


On the way home, Bree had a wonderful idea, so, instead of making the turn off that would take her home, she went down I 40 and made a right. There it was the overpass. In under it, where she had hidden many times as a kid, was an alley, a refuge. But, it was different now.
She knew, the moment she got out of the car, that coming here had been a mistake. Already, she couldn’t breathe from the pain. Quickly, she raced to the blocked off alley under the overpass, and stole away into it.
Once there, where she found it safe, she let the pain, memories, and tears come. She took them on headstrong. Remembering the night her refuge had become a place of fear and pain. A place where her life had changed, and all for the worst.
It had been one of ‘those’ nights. Her parents had fought, screamed, and hit. But, like always, mom would forgive him in the end.
But, it had been to much either way, so, Bree had snuck over to the overpass, and into her alley. Not knowing that going there on that particular night, would land her mere feet from her deathbed.
She had sat there and waited, she knew better than to go home while they were fighting. It would only put her in the crossfire. As she waited, she began to hum.
About half way through her song a man walked into the alley. He was big, big as a mountain. And he was a cop.
“Are you Bree?” He asked.
“Yes.” She had answered.
“Can you come with me, Bree?”
“Nope, I’m not aloud to go any where with people I don’t know.”
“Really? What if it was an emergency?”
“She couldn’t go with you then either.” She had heard her oldest brother say. His words were punctuated by the three loud pops. The cop fell, blood oozing out of three holes in his back.
She remembered running, not knowing why she was, but running anyway. She remembered pain as a bullet was shot into her shoulder. She remembered thinking she would die; she was eight, what chance did she have of out running a twenty-seven-year-old male?
She remembered falling, falling hard and going under, being covered and surrounded in darkness. She could hear it all again, the sirens, the medics, her parents, cops, all of it. She could remember her brother, Drake, screaming. Screaming that they couldn’t do this to him, that they had no proof. Then she heard another voice. An older, more rugged male voice.
“What we have, you little punk, is your sister, shot but alive.” He had said, then, a man’s face had entered the dark, and it was staring at her. It asked her a question, but she couldn’t hear anymore. She merely stared at him, then, closing her eyes, she had drifter through it. All of it.
Her parents had stopped fighting, her dad had stopped drinking, they moved to California. They tried to be a family again, Jack had visited her often, being twenty, he had responsibilities, but he tried. They all did. And, for eight years, it had worked, until a month ago, when her parents had died. Now she was back, back in the nightmare town.
She wasn’t even aware she was crying, until a pale hand offered her a tissue. Looking up, she was struck again, by how perfect Vincent’s face was.
“You look like you could use a little r and r. But, what do I know about it? Except that you don’t like this town at all.” He said, his voice making the words a song again.
“Are you stalking me or something?”
“No, I found this place the day we moved here. I come here every night. I didn’t expect to find you here though. I guess it’s just a plus, huh?”
“Actually, this is my alley, pal. So beat it. I practically own this place; I’ve been coming here since I could walk.”
“No one can own an alley, besides, you left.” He protested.
“That doesn’t matter. I’m the only one who comes here, and this place just happens to be part of the reason I came back at all. Now leave. Go play match maker with your parents.” She said, narrowing her eyes.
“And, what if I don’t want to leave?” He asked, his jaw clenched in stubborn pride.
“Then I’ll make you leave. Simple enough for you?”
He laughed at that and sobered, remembering something.
“About my parents, they were only trying to be nice. They do it all the time. Apparently, the words ‘I don’t date’ can’t go through one ear without coming out the other. Either way, they didn’t mean any harm.”
“No harm was done, other then the harm to my pride.” She said, wary of there conversation. She turned and walked toward her car.
“How bad is the damage that was done?”
“Mild. I can pick up my own hot guy, without his parents help.”
“Well, for your information little lady, I can pick up my own girl with out my parents help too. They just don’t seem to get it. Don’t hate me, hate parents who underestimate there kids abilities with other teens.”
“Too late, I’ve hated parents like that for years. I have to blame someone, and your handy, it’s nothing personal, just a bad habit I can’t get rid of.”
“Did you try hating your precious alley?”
“It’s not precious; it’s a hell-hole of bad memories. And I already hate it.”
“You know, I’m not really that bad of a guy. You could at least let me try to prove that much!” He yelled so she could hear him, still at the mouth of the alley, as she walked down the road.
“I could, but that would make things easy for you. And I like to see a guy struggle before he gains my respect, trust, and belief that he isn’t a loser and jerk.” She yelled back, enjoying herself.
“Were you created to murdered guy’s egos or something?”
“Pretty much. Oh, and to be a complete and utter loser at high schools across this great nation.”
“You must be a demon or something.”
“Just call me Simi.” She yelled.
“One date!”
“Why?”
“I like you, you have spunk!”
“Fine, seven tomorrow night. If you’re late I get to punch you though!”
It was raining now, hard. They had to shout over the rain to hear each other, but neither minded, they didn’t mind getting soaked either.
“Seriously? You won’t stand me up, or pull some stupid prank?” He asked, surprised she had given in so easily, which also made him cautious.
“Why would I do that, I like you. You have spunk too. Whatever the hell that is!”
They grinned at each other for a second, then, on a whim, Bree ran back to him and kissed his cheek.
“Seven, and if you’re late, you’re face won’t be nearly as pretty.” She teased, and, before he could catch her and really kiss her, she ran back to her car and jumped in. Speeding off in the general direction of town.


Chapter 5


"Hey, I'm Breanna Anderson. I'm new, sort of. And I need a list of my classes and where they are."
"But, it's Saturday. There isn't any school today." The pretty brunette said.
"I know, but I need to pick up my schedule that way I'll be ready on Monday."
"Oh, ok. Just wait here. I'll go get it."
She walked away, stealing glances over her shoulder of Bree. But, Bree didn't mind. In fact, she didn't mind anything right now. Tonight was her date with Vincent. She had everything she would need ready. She had a pair of black heels, a black jeans mini-skirt, and a tight,black tank top picked out. She had a pair of large silver hoop earrings.
“Ok, here it is. Have a nice evening.” The sunny secretary said, handing her a paper.
“Thanks, later.”
Back in her room that night, she changed clothes and shook her hair a little to make it look kinda messy but also good. When a knock on her door made her jump, she decided to start drinking de-café.
“Come in.”
“Wow, you know, if I didn’t know better I’d say you really had it out for this guy.” Her brother said, he was leaning against the door frame, holding a little black box.
“Whatever man. Did you need something?”
“Just wanted to give you this.” He said, holding out the box.
“What is it?” She asked, cautiously taking the box.
“Just a little something I thought you’d like.”
When she opened the box, she gasped, staring at it. Inside the box was a necklace. It was perfect. The black leather tie held a pendant that was excuisitly detailed and just right for her. It was a silver circle locket, with a carving of Fenris; the giant wolf who swallowed the sun in Norse mythology, on it, the out line of Fenris was filled with onyx, and, since the carving was of his left side, his left eye was a small ruby..
It surprised her that her brother would get her this. It was the one gift she had ever gotten that hadn't been centered on changing her. Her brother got it, got that she wouldn't change for anyone. That she had too much pride to change. And he wasn't going to try.
"I don't know much about you Goth's, but I do know that the casheir at the store stared at me like I was a freak when I bought that. But then again, it could have had something to do with the fact that I was wearing a navy blue buisness suit when I bought it. Either way, I hope you like it. It's a special welcome back gift from me." He said, watching her face.
"I love it, thanks Jack." She said, smiling up at her favorite person in the whole world.
"No problem." He mumbled, looking down.
"So, just for curiosities sake...where'd you get it?" She asked.
"Oh no," He laughed, "I'm not telling you anything. All you need to know is that I suffered grandly." He said, laughing again.
"Fine, have it your way. Hey, can help me get it on? I'm Goth, but I don't have eyes in the back of my head."
"Sure sis'. So, you'll wear it on your date?"
"Course I will. Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know. I'm just asken' 'cause...your date is in the living room with Sally now."
"What! Don't tell me you left them alone together!" She shreiked, staring at her brothers shocked face. "She'll corrupt him. He'll be another copy of you before we make the stairs!" She said, faking an hysterical voice. Laughing as she grabbed her little leather purse and went quickly down the step with her brother following closely behind letting out a string of profanities just for her.


"Hey, you ready to go?" Vincent asked, standing up. He looked gorgeous, even for a guy. He had on his combat boots, black jeans, and a black t-shirt.
The best part of his out fit was the shirt, because his arms were no longer hidden behind concealing fabrics. His arms were amazing, the boy had muscle, but not the bulky kind. You could see the muscles and you could tell that he worked out. But, they weren't bulging, you know, like a body builders would be.
"Yeah, hope my sister-in-law hasn't shown you the light." She teased softly.
"To late for that, not only has she shown me the light, she also taught me of love!" He said, faking a happy, excited, and in love voice.
"Ok, ok. Enough humor at my expense." Sally said.
"Ok, well, we're out of here, later!" Bree said, grabbing Vincent’s hand and yanking him toward the door. Once out side she felt much better.
"So," He asked, "Am I late?"
"Nope, your early actually."
"Cool."
“Your parents happy with their work?”
“Yes, actually, they think we’re a match of pure perfection.”
“Interesting. To bad they already know we’re going out tonight, or we could trick them and make ‘em wish they'd never introduced us.”
His only responce to her witty and crazy scheme was to laugh his marvelous and deep-voiced laugh.
"So, what are we doing tonight." She asked, as they walked down the street.
"Well, since your so pretty, I figure, we'll go back to my place. I paint, love it, and I figure I could paint you. If you want. Then we can do something of your choosing."
"Thats an interesting way to make a date work, but sure, why not? Lets go."


When they reached the Barlow mansion Bree stopped. She stared for a second, then asked; "Your parents are Gothic too aren't they?"
"Yes. Guess I just got the luck of the draw in that department."
"Definatly luck." She said, giving the house one lst once over, then, returning to the walk up the drive.
The butler, Albert, opened the door for them as they climbed the steps. The man seemed to be about in his late sixieties.
"Albert, I don't think you and Bree have been properly introduced yet. Bree, this old coot, is our butler, Albert Lanks. Albert, my good fellow, this, is the beautiful, and, more importantly, Gothic, Breanna Anderson."
"I don't think I've had the pleasure, Madam." Albert said, smiling a crinkled smile at her, and politly shaking her hand.
"I don't quite think I have either," She said smiling back at him. "It's very nice to meet you."
"Mr. Remington, I think your mother is in the dining room. She asked me to tell you she might like to have a quick word with you."
"Thank you, Albert. Albert, do me a favor, show Bree to my studio, will you?"
"Of course, sir."
"Oh, and Albert," Vincent said, as he started to walk away, "Keep the charm to a minimum, will you? I don't want to come back and find my date running off with you." He teased, patting the old man lightly on his back before turning away to walk down the hall.
"Vince always has had a sence of humor." The old man laughed.
"He is quite funny." Bree agreed.
"I never did understand where it came from. His father had an awful sence of humor, and his mother, while she was a lovely woman, couldn't have made a hysterical hyena so much as crack a smile!"
"Really? Last night they seemed to find each other quite amusing."
"No no no," Albert said as her lead her up the second flight of stairs. "The Remingtons aren't his real parents. He was adopted many years ago. I knew his biological parents about a year before the accident...." He trailed off.
"Accident?"
"Yes, his parents died in a trajic fire. The Remingtons were his god-parents. So, after Trixie and Robert died, they took him in. They've been a family for quite a while now."
"That was really cool of them."
Albert turned to smile kindly at her, then returned to climbing the stairs. At the top of the third flight they stopped. Albert turned to his right and opened the door, holding it for Bree. When she was in the rom he softly closed the door behind her, leaving her alone in the wonderous room.
The room was huge, with canvases everywhere. There were boxes of finished paintings every where, and hundreds of paint brushes, all in different sizes and shapes. There were buckets, and tubes of paint everywhere! All kinds of colors and brands. There was a huge white tarp on the floor, with splashes of paint here and there.
And there was a painting, it wasn't finished, but it was beautiful. The color of the fire was perfect, the building was old, but it was obviously that it was an apartment building. All that was left to put on the painting was the road, and the bottom of the building.
"It's the same building my real parents burned in. In case you're curious." She heard a voice say from behind her. She turned and saw Vincent, walking towad her with a stool.
"How'd you know Albert would tell me that story?"
"I didn't, he warned me. Said you'd probably have lots of questions."
"I don't," She lied, "It's not my buisness to ask the questions. If you want to tell me, it's your choice. I'm not the type to pry into someone else's unpleasent memories."
"You lost your parents too." He pointed out, setting the stool down and gesturing for her to sit before he turned to get a clean canvas.
"I know. But that still doesn't give me the right to pry. Besides, my parents aren't all I lost."
He looked at her curiously as she crossed her legs on the stool.
"Don't pry, I'm not a good model when I'm avoiding questions." Was all she said, before taking a deep breath and becoming utterly still.
A knock on the door about thirty minutes later didn't so much as make her blink.
"Come in." Vincent said.
The door opened and Vincent's adoptive father and mother walked in. They stopped just behind Vincent and inspected the portrate.
"So, how's he doing? He got the red nose and water squirting flower didn't he?" She asked them, raising a brow when Vincent, unlike his parents who all but exploded with laughter, snorted.
"Just sit still. I’m almost done." He said when his parents finally stopped laughing.
"Lighten up Vince sweetie, she's just bored." His mother said, smiling at Bree.
"Nope, just numb from the neck down." She said, earning more laughter from the adults and another snort from Vincent.
He made one more, smooth stroke with the brush before setting it down and picking up the canvas. "All done." He said.
"Cool, I wanna see it. I did model for it." She said, jumping off the stool and walking over to stand next to Vincent.
The moment she got there, her mouth dropped to the floor. It was perfect, he had gotten every little aspect correct. Even the small mole at the end of her right eyebrow. But the eyes, they were even more detailed. The color was exact, so were the light blue rings of color that bordered her irises and faded out into silver.
She continued to stare at the painting even when it was covered with a tarp.
"So, did I forget the water squirting flower or the red nose?" Vincent asked.
"No one every notices that little ring of silver-blue." Was her only response, and it seemed to please him.
"Ok, so what do you want to do?" He asked.
"Um...I'll have to think for a second if I'm gonna top this." She said, blowing at her bangs.
"Ok, tell me when you decide."
"I've got it! We're going dancing boy, hope you know how to move your feet as good as you can move that paint brush."
"Do we have to?" He asked, when hhe saw her face he revised with a cherry; "Ok, ok, let’s go."
Fifteen minutes later, they were parked in the middle of nowhere.
"So, this is your big dance floor?" Vincent asked.
"Yep, break out your dancing shoe's Vincent."
"Call me Vince." He said, throwing her one of his lop-sided grins.
"Ok, let’s go." She said, getting out of the car. She walked across the road, to a breech in the trees that lined the road. Vince followed after her as she disappeared through the breech.
When he was on the other side he stared, not able to believe what he was seeing.
It was a lake, or more like a big deep and wide pond. It had a huge and beautiful Willow tree next to the edge of it. On two of the branches were a tire swing and a rope with a loop at the bottom. Bree had slipped her legs through the tire and was leaning on it, watching him.
"What is this place?" He said, as he walked closer he saw a wide smile had spread across her face, sending her beautiful, black painted, lips into an oddly angelic look for her face. She cocked one eyebrow, sending that little mole into an exclamation mark.
"This, Nohea, is Pandora's pond. It's been around for years, but few ever come around to see it anymore. Most believe it’s cursed. But that’s the beauty of the imagination. At least, in my opinion it’s a beauty." She said.
"What does that word mean?" He asked.
"Pandora? It’s a Greek myth-"
"No, the other one, Nohea, what’s that mean?"
"Oh, that? It's Hawaiian for handsome." She said dismissively, waving a hand at it. She climbed out of the swing and removed her shoes.
"Handsome?" He asked, lifting one of his perfect raven brows.
"Yep. Are you coming or not?" She asked as she removed her jewelry.
"Coming where?"
"Dancing, duh." She said as she ran a hand through her hair and let it swing freely.
"Were going to dance on the water?" He asked, gaping as she removed her skirt to show a black bikini bottom.
"Nope, we're going to dance in the water silly." She said as she removed her shirt to show a black bikini top.
"Oh," He said, "You could have told me we would be getting into the water."
"Too late now. Come on, good-looking." She said, seconds before she splashed into the warm water, sending it flying in his direction.
"Ok, ok. I'm coming." He said, and removed his shirt, shoes, socks, and jeans. Just to show he was a good sport he used the rope to swing into the water less than a foot from her.
She shrieked as the warm water rained down over her. Looking around she realized he was nowhere to be seen. She was considering getting out and looking in the tree's when something grabbed her foot. Pure fear enveloped her as she was pulled under.
When she resurfaced, she was in the circle of Vince's arms and he was laughing like a complete loon.
"That was so not funny hot shot." She said, trying to pull away. He was relentless, and only crushed her closer to him.
"It was hilarious, and you know it, mo chroi." He said, watching her for a moment to make sure he was forgiven regardless, apparently he was.
"What’s that mean? Mo chroi? Is it Irish or something?"
“Yep, it’s Irish for ‘my heart’.”
“Oh.” She said, clearly surprised.
“My dad was Irish and my mum was from London.”
“Well, that’s cool. But, what’s with calling me that? We sorta just met.”
“I guess I sorta just don’t care,” He pulled her closer still and leaned down to press his brow to hers, “I like you, and, in my experience, it’s always better to let someone know when you have feelings for them.”
“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense. In a twisted, confusing way.” She whispered, trying to concentrate as he pulled her arms around his neck and leaned closer. When there lips met, she was holding her breath.
She tasted, in Vince’s opinion, wonderful. Her lips tasted like honey and hot sauce, soft, and sweet, but still spicy and ready to curse a man without a second thought. He loved the taste of her; she was an exotic fruit mixed with spicy herbs. He loved it, and wanted more.
A quite moan escaped her lips as they clung even closer to each other. He tasted like arrogance, arrogance and sin. She loved it.
Vince’s hands skimmed lightly down her back, to rest on her butt. He pulled her tighter to him and moaned when she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“We gotta stop now,” He whispered when his lips were free. “If we go much further, not only will your brother murder me, but he’ll have my parents doing the same. And my dad is very old fashioned.”
“Sure, sure.” She mumbled, pulling his mouth back to hers.
“Well, maybe just another minute or two….” He trailed off into a deep throated moan as her hands slid silkily down his back.
Still kissing him, she brought her arms up to circle around his the back of his neck. In turn, he slid his hands up from her but to hold her hips. Pulling back he stared at her, amazed that she had allowed him to do such an arrogant and recklace thing. But, he reminded himself, that doesn't mean she won't regret it tomorrow.
"Your not half bad at that, Slick." She said, looking at him with undisguised, and utterly sinful, thoughts in her eyes.
"Thanks. You weren't half bad your self." He said, trying not to concentrate on how easy it would be to pull the two little strings of her bikini top, leaving her exposed to him fully.
She smiled, as if guessing what he was thinking. Before either of them could do anything, they heard the sound of dogs. Heard the shout of a couple of men. And, before they saw any of it, they were out of the water, grabbing their clothes and running.
Back in the car, they got dressed again.
"Oh no." Bree said, when Vince looked up from tying his boots she looked noticeably paler.
"Whats wrong?" He asked.
"My purse. I left it at the pond."
"Oh, well...can't you just get another one?"
"No! It's not the purse. Its it's contents. I put my necklace, money, ID, and my Tegretol, in it."
"Whats Tegretol? Some kind of drug?"
"No, its my medicine. When I lose my Tegretol I get interesting."
"You have seizures?" He asked in suprise.
"No. Cognitive dysfunction, affective scrambling, inability to regulate emotional outbursts. I'm prone to a mood disorder, get too unhappy, everything gets scrambled, no telling what I'll do." She said in a strained voice.
"Oh, my dads on that stuff. What dosage do you take?"
"Depends," She said, frowning. "Three hundred migs on a good day, more if I'm feeling...out of it. The same old prodrome; everything turning kinda glassy, circular, convex, pistons pumping, heart jumping. Soon I'm going to be all scrambled. It's like a stress, or excitment, reaction for me, I guess."
"Oh, ok. I'll go back and get it. Wait here." Before she could answer he was gone, the car door closing soundlessly behind him. Seconds later he was back, and he had her purse.
"Swipped it right from under this ugly Lab's nose." He said, laughing quietly.
"Thanks!" She sad, throwing her arms around him and giving him a big kiss.
"No problem. You ready to go home? Or are you in need of more excitement?" He teased, starting the car.
"I think," She said, smiling slightly. "that I'm ready to go home now."
"Ok, lets ditch this place."


Chapter 6


"How was the date?"
Jumping guiltily as Jack spoke from a chair in the corner of the room she scowled darkly toward him and threw her purse on her bed. "Fine until you showed up. Go to bed, Brother."
"Not until we set some new rules. FIrstly; curfew is eleven every night, not three in the morning, except weekends which are midnight. Secondly; if you break curfew, I take away your phone and you will be grounded, and curfew will become nine. Thirdly; when we call you, dont put us on hold for a game of guess the tv show with the remingtons!
Glaring at him she waited till he was done and held her bedroom door open. After he left she growled curses under her breath and sighed, then fell onto her bed, falling asleep in moments.

An hour later Vince stood by her bed and frowned down at her thoughtfully.
He really liked Bree, but what if she found out what he was? What if she ran in the other direction as fast as she could? He couldn't help what his nature was, he'd never asked to become a monster, he just was. And he wished now, more than ever, that he weren't. For her sake.
Leaning over her he brushed a light kiss against her temple before slipping out the door and silently out of the house like a phantom, his pale eyes alert. He would always be around for her now, even when she decided she didn't want him. Even if this was their first date. She was his blood mate and that was something he'd always sworn to protect when found.

A week later, on a Sunday morning, Bree slept, dreaming, oblivious to the movement in the house as her brother left for a basketball game, as Sally made breakfast and snuck in to see if she wanted some then right back out so she didnt wake her. So when, an hour later, long after Sally had gone to church, three men snuck into the house and began to ransack the place.
When she did wake up, it was too the horrified scream of Sally as she walked through the living room, looking at the damage that had been done. Racing down the stairs, Bree entered the room and froze, gaping. She stood there in her black pajama bottoms and tank top with a large lime green kiss on it, staring at the room that was now a junk yard of things as Sally sobbed, leaning against what was left of the couch.
"Sally, do you want me to call Jack?" She asked, looking at her sister in law and speaking in slow tones that were usually reserved for children.
"How? The phone has been ripped from the wall!" Sally wailed and sobbed more.
"With my cell. I'll be right back."
Once she was back in her room and had cell phone inhand she scrolled her contacts trying to findher brothers number. When a large hand came down over her mouth and a muscled arm clenched around her waist she struggled only for a moment.
"When little girls tell lies, it can get them into trouble. You should remember that, Brianna, next time, we won't be so subtle." A deep voice rumbled in her ear before shoving her onto the bed and sending her face first over the side as the arge man slipped out the window quicker than should have been possible.
"What the hell just happened...!?"

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 04.10.2010

Alle Rechte vorbehalten