Down Memory Lane

Francesca would have attached herself to Niles to avoid more conversation, but he was no where to be found. Probably off somewhere slapping someone else’s hand away from the cake that was so beautiful it didn’t deserve to be eaten. The more she felt uneasy the more she wished she knew where the butler was, but focused on signaling Ali instead. Just as she looked up to him she noticed the direction of his gaze and knew he was looking to Eliza.

“Ali, I’m thirsty.” Said the attack dog in a playful, damsel voice. The man that Alistair had been speaking to grew bored with the way the two ignored him and France watched him walk away. She despised hunters. The men in the corner set her radar off and made her skin crawl. She focused, and could only hear their voices through the crowd. What were they saying? She stared forward, her brows knitting as she concentrated.

It would seem the party slowed in motion. Francesca felt her body tense as the men pulled out knives and went after the vampires near them. There were more hunters than expected, and before the vampire could react they had already sliced into at least three vampires. Quickly the assassin moved and slithered through the crowd to halt the one closest to Eliza. She snapped his neck with such speed he had hardly seen her coming, but he wasn’t the only one to worry about. There was another one behind him, one with more motive to go after Ms. Romanov, and he jammed his knife into France’s side before she pulled it out to shove it into his neck. Two down, too many still left to even take a breath and count. The next one ws closest to Alistair, and France moved just as quickly to cut down that hunter as she had for Eliza, but was slowed down by another knife in her in her side before she pinned the hunter down and pushed the blade to his throat.

The blood in the room spurred the killer nature in Francesca even more than the blood of the original hunter had. Blood shed so near her maker made the vampire’s blood boil and she could only think to stop whatever was dangerous near Eliza.

France snarled at the hunter that had knocked her down, and got up quickly with the smallest wince when Ali helped her up. “Thanks.” She muttered. It was proof that she had changed, because she would have never thanked someone in the days before Eliza.

“I’m fine.” She spoke quietly and looked around the room, scanning for more potential threats as the vampires around them hurried to help the wounded and scattered to avoid more bloodshed. “Where’s Niles?” She asked, turning her gaze to Eliza and watching the entire crowd around her and look to her for answers. France wouldn't stop. Like an attack dog that wouldn't stop until it took it's last breath she began to move around the room though her body slowed. She crinkled her brow and looked down to her bleeding side that seemed to be pouring more and more of the crimson liquid. It would seem the hunter knew a blade wouldn't stop a vampire, and had soaked the blade in some sort of liquid before shoving into France's side. She touched her wound, then brought her fingers near her nose and as she inhaled slowly she collapsed to her knees, then to the ground as the world went black around her.

(OMG I'm sorry it took so long for me to post my internet has been shit lately )

The poison that set into Francesca’s blood stream slowed her body down so immensely yet she still managed to hear what was happening. Or at least she thought she did. The vampire hadn’t fed in a while, so her lack of fresh blood slowed the poison that paralyzed her. She felt the men grab her and hoist her away, then shuffle her around as they ran. Where were they taking her? Why didn’t they just kill her?

The two hunters carried the stunned vampire quickly away from the party. They talked to each other in low voices, but France couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. They threw her in the back of the car and one worked to tie her hands with silver lined rope and put a scarf in and around her mouth to keep her silent. They drove deeper into the woods to a cabin and parked, not more than fifteen miles away. Once again she was lifted and hoisted over a shoulder as one of the larger men carried her inside, then tossed her onto the floor near the fire.

Fire! She could finally open her eyes. They were dazed and everything looked hazy, but she could see the light of the fire. “I hope she starts on fire.”

“What are we doing with her! What if they don’t come for her? What if they out number us? Tom was killed. We’re fucked now!”

“Stop yelling and panicking! If they come we’ll hold her hostage long enough then we’ll burn her. We need to wait for Dan.”

Dan? Little did France know ‘Dan’ was the hunter she had killed in the alley earlier that night. She blinked slowly and stared at the fire, still too stunned to move anything else on her body.

If only the numbness that consumed her legs was enough to keep the pain away from the silver lined rope. It had begun to sting her flesh and the gag in her mouth felt obnoxious, but the more France thought about this the more she became relieved. She wasn’t dying! Her body was waking up and beginning to feel things again! As soon as she was able she would rip the hunters in half and feed them to each other.

The men continued to argue, bickering with each other about what to do with the limp vampire. So consumed in this that they almost didn’t notice the vampire who demanded the freedom of his sister. Immediately they drew their daggers, glancing at each other. “There’s one of you, and two of us. Not to mention we have other’s who will come after you.”

“These dead fucks are so stupid. They’re animals, can’t get through to them.” Said the other hunter before he charged the blond man, dagger in hand and aiming to tear it through his throat.

At first Alistair’s words were a distant sound to France. Too focused in her own recovery that it took her a moment to recoil and realize what he said. He killed them. He started with one hunter, and then moved onto the next. Perhaps they had been meant to be siblings after all.

The sound of flesh tearing and blood spilling stirred Francesca’s body even more. She began to struggle in her ties, writhing slowly on the ground. The poison had drained her body of all energy and the sound of blood spilling behind her made her throat dry up and feel as though it were on fire like a new fledgling would feel. As Alistair knelt at her side her honey eyes looked up to him with a dazed expression. This was as close to stoned as France could remember being, and although her natural instinct was to fight she couldn’t help but smile at Ali as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Thank you.” Was it true? France could be sweet? The vampire leaned her forehead against Alistair’s neck and wrapped her arms around him a little tighter. One hand even managed to run her fingers into his hair. “Is Eliza alright?” The drugged vampire wanted to sleep, but kept picking her head up to look around like a child as if she didn’t trust Alistair’s sense of direction. “And Niles?” She then came to the realization that her dearest brother may have been hurt and grabbed his chin quickly to turn his face towards her. "Are you alright?" The poison may have worn off enough for her to function, but she was far from her usual sharp self.

Once Francesca snapped out of her stupor she would surely go back to teasing and quipping with Alistair, but in the moment she was happy to be a darling. “I will make him a new cake.” The Spanish vampire didn’t cook for anyone but her latest lover, and that was all in secret.

“Mi encantadora guerrero.” My charming warrior The drugged vampire said in her native language, then rested her head against Alistair’s shoulder. It was as rare as a blue moon that France ever spoke in her first language, but stranger things had happened that night. She crinkled the sides of her nose and laughed softly just before they got inside the mansion. “Gracias, mi amor.”

It took the vampire a few seconds to realize she had been set down, and even longer to look to Eliza yelling in a language France hated to speak. “Will there be more?” There would always be more hunters, but would there be more tonight? With the threat looming of more men coming to disturb her mistress France stood up. Her knees wobbled at first, but she steadied herself and walked to a desk nearby and pulled out a small knife. Coincidentally in all the years France had lived with Eliza there had been many small knives and weapons sporadically hidden throughout her homes. She tucked the dagger up into her sleeve and headed towards Eliza, convincing herself she would be read for more if it meant protecting her.

As hard as Niles had tried to break France’s bad habits and turn her into a lady there were traits she couldn’t let go. Stashing weapons randomly throughout the home, vile eloquence, and the state of mind that an assassin had. She wouldn’t stop until she was dead. She was a weapon of war, and if Eliza was in danger she would get up on her unsteady legs to protect her.

“Shut up.” France quipped at Alistair. “It wasn’t entirely your fault.” She would have kicked him when he bent if her legs had been more reliable. Instead she swatted at him. “I shouldn’t have been so careless.”She couldn’t even remember what had happened to her. One moment chaos broke out, and the next she was waking up to Alistair. Is that how it happened with every woman he met?

As Eliza tilted her head France smirked, tapping the handle of the dagger before it disappeared completely in her ensemble. “I’m always ready for more, Eliza. I’m fine.” If she was fine she wouldn’t have been smiling at Alistair, and she wouldn’t have gone back to the chair so willingly. As she went back to her seat with only a little struggle she grabbed Niles’ hand to bring him with her.

“I shouldn’t have let this happen.” The vampire shifted her weight in the chair and rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes as she continued scolding herself. “I’ll finish them off… maybe after a bath.” She had gone soft. Niles and Eliza had spoiled her. “Is that boring vampire dead?”

Living with Eliza had made France soft. She wanted a long bubble bath after a fight. She wanted comfort and affection. It had lead her to slowly break down the walls that she had built being a slave and assassin, and surely enough she fell in love. Who would have thought the cold devil had a heart? Not only did she have a heart, but she had even learned how to give it away, but when it was returned to her she knew why she had never given it up before.

The normally breath taking vampire sat in the taxi silently. Her long black hair pulled up into a bun ontop of her head, her face pale and lacking any makeup. There was no flush to her cheeks because she hadn’t fed in days. The spark in her honey eyes was gone.

As the taxi pulled up to the beautiful home in the beautiful city she stepped out and shook her head to the man, taking hold of her own bags and overpaying him. "Grazie." She said lowly, shaking her head again when he tried to insist on helping her. The wheels on her bag grumbled and groaned as she dragged it up the cobblestone driveway, slipping passed the gate and dropping the handle as she stood at the door. She reached over and rang the bell, praying that it would be Eliza and Eliza only at the door to greet her.

After all the hearts that Francesca had broken she had never been prepared to taste her own medicine. She didn’t know how to react. The normally strong, hell on heels woman was a mess but was trying to hold it all in. She’d die before she admitted how much she had been crying, or how hurt she actually was.

The vampire closed her eyes briefly when Niles opened the door, scolding herself inwardly for thinking Eliza would greet her first. She held a breath she didn’t realize tensed in her chest and looked up at Eliza as her maker stepped down. For a moment she didn’t say anything. What could she say? They had been right not to trust a fae.

“Do you have room for me?” The voice that came out from France was tired, but she would blame it on the travel. Even her usual faint New York accent had dulled down. As Niles took her bags she stepped inside, but side stepped to avoid brushing against the man she normally would have climbed all over to greet. Instead she headed for Eliza, surprised even by her own actions, and wrapped her arms around her small frame tightly.

There was a part of Francesca that wished she was better at hiding her emotions in the moment that Niles laid eyes on her. She wished that the old assassin in her, the one who was used to torture, would come out and remind her what it was to have a poker face. Instead she stood in the hallway not giving a damn about how she was perceived.

What happened? Where could she begin? Her arms stayed wrapped around her adopted maker and she took a moment before answering. “I fell in love. That’s what happened.” Finally she let Eliza go and leaned back, fixing her shirt to try and maintain some of her posh persona. “I won’t ever give my heart away again, Eliza. Men aren’t trustworthy.” Well, not men in particular. Fae were not to be trusted, and fae men most of all; but she didn’t have the energy to explain more. She prayed silently that it was only Niles and Eliza in the beautiful home, and that no other fledglings or housekeepers were inside. Slowly she looked around, inhaling a quick breath to taste the air for any other souls inside but her senses were all out of whack and she couldn’t tell.

“How do you do it? How do you get up in the morning?” It had been years since she lost her love. How had she learned to live without him?

It was difficult for Francesca to imagine how this could have made her heart any stronger. “No. My heart was strong. Love opened it up and made it weak.” Before her heart had been barricaded by an iron clad wall. She had been able to only feel the emotions she chose, and never let anyone (save Eliza and Niles) get too close. Before she met Khalid her heart had been safe.

Yet she looked to Eliza for guidance. Even though she didn’t agree with her she would listen and learn from her. The younger vampire followed her maker to the sun room, squinting slightly at the bright light. Even though she was old enough to withstand the sun she hadn’t practiced or gone out in it often so it still hurt her eyes and made her flesh uncomfortably warm. Instead of joining her on the window seat she went to a chair not directly in the sun and sat down, leaning her head against the cushion and frowning as she toyed with the ends of her hair. “I’m not good with emptiness, Eliza. You know that.” Francesca wasn’t good with emptiness nor idle hands. A deviant persona came about when nothing else could entertain her. “I’m not as strong as you, and there’s no hope for getting him back. By being a vampire I disgust the fae side of him.”