Unwelcome News

An unexpected Text Message.

****She's in Calais****

That's all that was required. My heart carried a dark secret, a vengeful sorrow that I had carried with me all these years. It was not a number I recognised, but I could have guessed who had sent it to me.

I knew what I had to do. No mean feat for the coward I truly am. Quickly I packed my belongings. Not knowing if I wold ever return from my journey. Leaving friends that I held so dear in the midst of their own turmoils. I took only the bare minimum. No explanations. My business my own. Who could I entrust my responsibilities to? No one apart from myself.

I am weak. In the days as my newborn, I was directionless, but one burning desire alone revenge. Lord Snowdon had abused me and left me to die. I had to avenge myself, so I had hit his heart, the only thing that mattered to him before immortality, his daughter. I knew that even after he had been made immortal he watched over his daughter like a precious jewel. His diamond. I had always craved for his love, his acceptance, and the rage that burnt in me having been used like I had ate at what was left of my humanity. Burned me to damnation. I had to damage and dislodge this jewel in his crown. To make him as numb in this ever life as I was.

I knew that the Lady and her daughter resided in London for the Summer. For all my plainness in life, they surely would not recognise me now, and I would ensure that I was suitably well fed as to not make a scene once I arrived in their Society circle. It was 1934. I hunted them to Notting Hill, an exclusive part of the City. Ha! I should have known. It was all too easy to pass for a Lady, stealing clothing had become second nature.

Coraline was 24 engaged to be married to an officer, and extraordinarily beautiful. Quite refined from head to toe. The night before her wedding I jumped up to her balcony, entered her bedroom, kissed her forehead gently, sang her a sweet lullaby and drained her of blood.

Or so I thought.

I had no word for thirty years. Kept in Rural Wales with my family in my sanctuary, I had no reason to suspect otherwise, until I received a hand written note

Beth,

You have failed again. "Alive" and well my dear girl.

Please visit me soon,

C

I begged my mother to look, and she did. Finding no trace of Coraline Snowdon. No trail of bodies where she had been or gone. I was a foolish youngling who was not up to the job. Shame flowed through me that I had not killed her entirely, and changed her into a violent elegant killer. I had not received word until my stay in Italy.

I cannot describe the hatred and panic that spasmed through me when I read that message. The anguish as I knew that I had to destroy the one that I had created in revenge. Intrigued as I was also to see what my deviant angel was like. ~I knew her smell~

I headed North, the moon and the Beemer my only companions. Grateful for the pulse of the powerful engine of the bike. Scared that I had to face this entirely alone. She was easy to track. Too easy.

She had not changed. Still glorious still beautiful, still seductive. Her fathers eyes and her mothers delicate features. She was also all to aware that I was coming-and why.

"It's been a long time little Friend" she purred effortlessly. Long versed in the art of seduction.

"Too long, you know why I'm here"

My voice broke with anticipation and I felt the small hairs on the back of my neck raise for the fight.

"Before we fight", she raised herself up on the bed and touched my face running her finger down my cheekbone to my collar. She kissed me, a full, tender warm kiss of a lover.

I was utterly lost. The tender moments with her father although fuzzy and far away came rushing back to me. I urged myself not to get lost in that tender kiss. I hissed and pulled away.

"Ah, always the bridesmaid, but you enjoyed that. Let's fight" she growled.

I took all my friends notes on board, but she was quicker and stronger than I. I could not find my voice as I knew that she was mine, and we could be together forever if she were not abhorrently wrong-I had created her in revenge. I had killed her father in cold blood.

From some source I found strength, Donna had taught me to go for a weak point. The Volturi had taught me respect. I was not giving in. In a split second I had her pinned on the floor.

"To your death bitch"

And I kissed her, passionately, deeply, hard, before moving down to her neck, and then I just bit. The howls were unbearable, the screams between Ecstasy and torture. I tore her to shreds. Taking everything with me to burn her, keeping a lock of her hair in a pendant around my neck.

Victory was not sweet. I morn now for what could have been. But my torture is over. There may be light yet over some distant hill.

A little goes along way.