Civil Twilight
Civil Twilight
By: Megan
Chapter 9: Shine A Little Light Part 1
Author's Note:
So, first of all, I wanted to apologize again for another hideous break in between chapters. My computer broke down while I was at school and I had to wait till I finally went home to get it fixed and retrieve all my files, including this chapter. This entry to the story, Shine A Little Light, reveals some HUGE things and I actually refer to it as the beginning of everything that is going to happen here on out. I've had to cut the chapter in half, as just to update sooner because I really don't have time to write over Spring Break. That being said, the original cut of this chapter will roughly come out to about 20 pages long. Yeah, it's that big. This chunk is still the longest addition to the story, though. But, whatevs. You just want to get on with the reading right? ;)
Lying in the guest bedroom, despite that he should probably been up and out, Damon laid there on his back on the mattress, his eyes fixed on the paneled ceiling. The fact that Elena had actually shown up in the first place, despite the intention, it seemed just to strange. Almost enough to make the moment seem insignificant. Although, it stuck out in the sea of the countless images that had cluttered the files of his brain for all those years. He just didn’t want to think about it. But, every second of the encounter kept coming back, as if he was looking at the entire absurd thing from another perspective, outside of himself.
Without warning, a sudden sensory impulse overtook him, and Damon made his way down the stairs. For some reason he could swear… and then he was at a loss. What had it been that made him get up? There it was again. The sense of a faint familiar smell, several lost words and memories bubbled up to the surface, all too familiar.
Someone was at the door.
And walking towards it, Damon put his hand on the knob, swinging it open. And, sure enough, standing just outside and looking straight at him was a petite blond with long curly hair and green eyes.
“Clara?”
It was impossible.
“Hello, Damon.”
Everything played in real time. No agonizing slow motion, no fast paced words and quips. It just was. Clara was there, standing right in front of him. And Damon’s usual defenses almost seemed dangerously rendered useless for several seconds, the shock easing it’s way into his system, and the apparent disbelief making it’s way into the linings of his face, as every bit contorted with what almost looked like a reference to immense pain. The air around the space between him and her and the door had a consistency like molasses, hot and sticky as several mosquitoes buzzed around the lamp shinning directly above Clara’s form outside the entrance to the house.
“It can’t…” Damon’s voice hitched in his throat, the syllables refusing to make their way out, the words remained incomplete.
And Clara… smiled. And Damon couldn’t place it. Although retaining a faint sarcasm, the way her lips curled and turned up almost seemed to resemble a certain… malice? But, he wasn’t sure.
“I… I saw you… I saw you die.”
“Well, apparently not. I’m here aren’t I? Aren’t you going to let me in?”
And Damon stared at her for awhile longer. Shaking his head. “You are not Clara.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. Are you going to let me in or not?”
“No.”
Clara shrugged, her small pale hands in her jean pockets, and Damon could see the tiny muscles in her arms underneath the black sleeves of her leather jacket flex. If this was Clara, it was most definitely not the one from his past.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve been invited.”
And, walking straight past Damon and into the foyer, Clara made her way into the house. An easy and carefree stride to her step; self assured and confident. Damon came to the conclusion that she apparently was masking some sort of harbored fear of him, or she had none at all. And, that was not a good thing. He should know, someone with nothing to loose didn’t even acknowledge the concept of “fear” or understand the definition. He was that person. And if this was Clara, she was too.
“I love the perks about being a vamp, you know? Thankfully it isn’t like those bullshit fables or fairy tales. One time, one word ‘you can come in’, and you can, well, come in whenever you want. Even if it is 100 plus years after the fact.”
She smiled at Damon, her eyes gleaming. And he was vaguely reminded of putting Elena in the similar position only several months ago. Be careful who you invite in the house. Only this time, this time, the game was much more dangerous. The players were on level ground.
“God, last time I saw you… It was a long time ago.”
Clara’s green eyes, clear as a pair of glass marbles and twinkling like a mischievous cat’s, scanned the room. Damon studied her face. She didn’t look a day over sixteen. However, there was something different about her. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, the careless and delicate tremor to her voice, or that she seemed to carry with her a wealth of knowledge that far surpassed what appeared to be her ideal age. Yes, she appeared like a porcelain doll, but look closely enough, and you’d cut yourself on a jagged untamed edge and bleed. There was something threatening about her, and quite honestly, it unsettled Damon.
Hearing the footsteps behind him, Damon turned to see Stefan trotting down the stairs, rubbing his eyes from apparent lack of sleep.
“I heard something. What is all the…”
And, upon seeing Clara, Stefan froze at the foot of the stairs.
“What the hell?!”
Clara looked at him as a mother who might have scolded a child for taking one to many homemade cookies from the pantry.
“Now, that is no way to treat a guest.”
Stefan eyed Damon, as if asking permission on what their next move should be. He didn’t believe it either; this must have been someone who took Clara’s form. Iscariot wasn’t beyond that type of mischief. They were smart about how they went around things.
“You’re not a guest,” Damon spat. “You’re probably a demon.”
Not knowing if it would actually work, not knowing if his senses were attuned enough, Damon lunged for Clara, grabbing her arm.
“Damon, no!”
The last words he heard drifted from Clara’s voice, shaken with terror and tinged with sadness… perhaps for him? But, he wasn’t able to discern between them as his mind was plunged into the past.
The play, for which Clara had taken a whole several days to write, was nearly ready to be put on. She had forgone breakfast and lunch, the knots in her stomach growing tighter with anticipation, wondering if anyone at all would love it. Well, of course they would have to, Katherine was going to be in it, the star of it actually, the leading lady, the femme fatale. There was no doubt that it would not be a success, it was being put on for Mr. Salvatore’s business partners. And, no man could resist Katherine.
Clara had always been in awe of her older sister. And, no matter what any of her friends thought, jealousy never even played a part in the relationship. Clara envied her sister yes, but if anything, all she wanted to do was to be her when she grew older. Katherine would, at times, brush Clara’s hair in the morning and help her with her powder and pearls, taking her in her arms and saying “In the next several years, you will be so glamorous and so adored, you will have surpassed even my tiny shoes!” And Clara would giggle and embrace Katherine, because even the thought of being remotely like the sister she had placed on a pedestal filled her with excitement and tremendous joy.
But, for the past several months, Katherine had been different. Uncharacteristically cold and complacent. It was only when Clara had followed her one night to the woods, that she saw her own sister feeding on a runaway slave, that she discovered the truth. Katherine had been turned only several months before in Paris. She had been in a dreadful carriage wreck on her way to the boat to come home.
The driver had gone missing, but when Katherine had awoken on the muddy ground, choking on her own blood and a mouthful of water, was it that she discovered someone had turned her. She told Clara all of this rather shamelessly, and Clara swore to keep her sister’s secret. She couldn’t bear for them to be separated, let alone the townspeople were lately rounding up those they considered “demons” and that included the vampires. If Clara could do anything useful at her young age, she came to the conclusion that it would be to protect her sister.
At the moment Clara was rather upset, because with the short time that it would take for the business partner’s to arrive, there would be no time for another audition for the tragedy that she had concocted for Katherine to play out on the tiny makeshift stage built up in the living area. At sometimes chilling, and at others desperately sad, the play told the tale of a love destroyed, conveying the cautionary moral that one not built on a foundation of good sense was doomed. And, as a guilty but curious Clara spied on her sister and the older Salvatore brother in the confined space and the spiraling stairwell, she knew exactly what her inspiration had been.
Katherine was dressed in a plain red linen gown, a white collar sticking up, with a silk scarf around her neck, the ends tucked neatly into the petite jacket that she wore. Damon was beside her with one hand on her elbow, his body barring the entrance for her to leave. He was obviously confronting her about something.
“I want to know why you carry on with Stefan like this.”
“And I want to know why you care. You still have me. It’s something for me to do, I can have anything or anyone I want now.”
“Is this a joke? It’s because I pick my brains apart every night thinking about him rubbing his hands all over you.”
“No it’s not a joke, Damon. And, besides you’re not here half the time. You’re off doing something all the time even after you deserted the confederacy. What am I supposed to do while you away?”
“You managed perfectly well before.”
“Yes, but that was before I became what I am. I have needs, you know. And besides, I’m sure that you have a menagerie on admirers.”
“And I never give them the time of day.”
“Don’t sulk, it not becoming.”
“Do you think I give a damn?”
“I don’t think you’re sleeping alone in these other towns every night.”
“So, you fabricating these encounters with me and other women in your head gives you license to amuse yourself with my brother?”
“And why not?”
“Because, that is not the woman I fell in love with.”
And, with that comment from Damon’s lips, Clara saw her sister let out a tiny sigh, with several tears escaping her eyes and dribbling down her cheeks. She started to cry, taking Damon’s hand in her own, and Clara, in all honestly, could not figure out why Katherine hadn’t done this before when her sister said,
“I’m sorry.”
Damon looked taken aback, guilty that he had made Katherine upset, and sighing; he embraced her as she put her thin arms around his neck and squeezed tightly.
“I’ve made some terrible mistakes haven’t I?” Katherine said, hiccupping between her soft sobs, as Damon rubbed her back and nodded. “Yes, you have. But, it doesn’t mean we can’t fix this.” Katherine, her hands still firmly placed on Damon’s shoulder and his on her waist, looked him into the eyes, a flicker of hope between them.
“Okay?” Damon smiled at her, wiping the tears away from her cheeks, and Katherine let out a relieved exclamation, nodding.
“I have to go now,” Damon said releasing her from his grasp, “I have some work to do. I want you to keep safe and just stay inside, though. I know you think you’re invincible, but the villagers are mad.”
Katherine let out a little laugh, and bending her head towards Damon, the two shared a light kiss. He nodded, putting head down and closing his eyes out of the pure joy and relief of the moment, taking Katherine’s curly head in one hand and placing a kiss on her forehead. Walking towards the door, Damon turned as Katherine stopped him with several words.
“I can make him forget. I’ll end it tonight.”
After dinner, Clara had been told that her play was canceled due to the fact that the partners were not coming because Mr. Salvatore would be out until very late, maybe not even come until early in the morning. Not receiving an explanation as to why, and obviously upset over the turn of events, Katherine took Clara into her arms, telling her that she could sleep in her room tonight.
Laying there next to the cold form of her sister, (wasn’t she supposed to be technically dead after all?) The two girls were awakened by a loud crash. Katherine jolted up out of the bed.
“What the hell?”
Slipping on her robe and putting on a pair of slippers, Clara looked stuck still in horror as Katherine put her tiny hands on her sisters own.
“You stay here, alright? I’m going to go check out what is going on. It’s probably some fuss over nothing between the servants.”
And even Clara could see through the transparent façade that her sister was using to mask her fear.
“But, Kathy…”
“Do as I say.”
During the five minutes that Katherine had gone out the door, Clara heard the shattering of glass downstairs. There were several screams. And, just then, Katherine ran back into the room, shutting the door.
“They’re here! Clara get under the bed.” Katherine took a key from her dresser, locking the door.
“Clara, I said get under the bed this instant!”
“But, what about you Kathy?”
Clara started to shake with fear, and she began to cry. Katherine simply tried to give her a reassuring smile, taking her in her arms. “I’m going to be fine. There is a place where I can go. The Fells have somewhere they can hide me in their house. I’ll find you tomorrow, okay? Damon will be here then. I’ll either be here to fetch you, or he will. I just need you to be quiet for me and get under the bed. Can you do that?”
“Where is Stefan and everyone else?”
“I don’t know. Just do this for me, please?”
Clara nodded. And, as Katherine left her, she put her ear to the wooden planks underneath as she his underneath the furniture, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Only, it didn’t matter. Because, a mere five minutes later, Clara felt a pair a strong hands grab her legs and pull her out, as she screamed for her life.
Katherine never knew what had brought her there. There were only three times in her life that she remembers as vividly as the day she lived them, the day Clara was born, the day she was turned into a vampire, and… the day she had met Damon. And, as she stood in the old church with another 26 vampires, leaning against a pew for support, she didn’t know whether or not this would be one to add to the list. She wondered if she should pray.
And, as everyone surrounding her caught their breaths as the door to the church was open, and several men stepped in, Katherine witnessed a sight that made her wish she had never been born. Clara, being led into the vicinity, bruised and bloody. A black welt covering her left eye, shutting it closed as the skin flapped over it, with her face covered in blood, and her hands, black with ash and shaking. And, she was being led by none other than Giuseppe Salvatore. Clara was thrown into Katherine’s arms. Katherine, holding her close, could feel dislocated joints beneath Clara’s dress. At least three bones had been broken.
Clara managed to let out a raspy breath, looking up at her sister.
“Kathy?”
Katherine, having a firm hold on Clara, looked up at the Salvatore’s boys’ father, a look of smug malice in his eyes. She knew her sister, being as young as she was, could not sustain these injuries. Clara was going to die.
“I’ll tear your heart out with my own hands. You will pay for this.”
Giuseppe Salvatore smiled, walking up to Katherine, a glimmer of victory in his eyes.
“You, you little witch, will never go near my sons or see the light of day again. However…” Salvatore scanned the room and it’s occupants, “Some of you may live and be forgiven for your heinous acts if you tell me the location of several others that we are looking for. Most in particular, a witch named Emily.”
And, despite the others protest, one of the prisoners in the background spoke up.
“She is near the Black Swamp several miles from here.”
Giuseppe Salvatore smiled, and backing towards the doors, told his men to shut them.
“But, I thought you said we would be forgiven?”
Giuseppe smiled, straightening his jacket.
“Perhaps. But that is between you and God.”
And, with that, the doors to the church were shut. And the windows snapped close, blocking out any moonlight. It was only several minutes later that billows of smoke escaped from the hinges and below the entrance, rising from the floor. The screams became painfully loud, as several others tried to take candelabras and bash in the doors. But, Katherine knew it would not matter. They were bolted anyway. Clara, looking down at the flames through the slits in the windows that began eating into the walls, and as she inhaled the thick smoke into her lungs, became aware with what was happening. And she released herself from Katherine’s grasp, trying to run to the door, sobbing hysterically. Katherine grabbed hold of her, however, and taking her face in her hands looked Clara straight in the eye.
“Listen to me Clara. Listen to me! We are going to get out of this. It is going to be alright.”
And knowing they would be ignored by the others who were trying desperately to find a way out, Katherine led her sister over to the marble altar, having Clara lean on her for support. As they reached it, Katherine did her best to lift the heavy red velvet rug underneath it, revealing a trap door. Leaning down and encircling her tiny fingers over the handle of the hatch, Katherine pulled it open, leading Clara inside. The grimy metal ladder that they climbed down seemed to take for hours until they finally reached the bottom of, what appeared to be, a sewer system.
Having found their safe haven, Clara’s hand slipped from Katherine’s grasp, and she slipped, falling unto the ground, her legs so weak and strained she was not able to support herself up. Katherine knelt down beside her, screaming frantically, “Clara! Wake up, please wake up!” Clara, having been unconscious for only a moment, opened her eyes at her sister’s plea, forcing the lids open. Katherine, staring her intently in the face for what seemed an eternity, took a deep breath, having come to a conclusion.
“I need to turn you.”
Clara looked up at her sister, terror in her eyes and unacceptance of the present circumstances. However, she knew Katherine spoke the truth.”
“If I don’t turn you, you are going to die.”
Katherine, taking placing a hand on Clara’s cheek, looked at her reassuringly.
“I’m going to get this over with very quickly, alright? You are going to be fine.”
And, before Clara could allow any more of the anticipation or fear sink in, Katherine sunk her teeth into her sister’s neck. After she had drunk as little as possible, Katherine bit her wrist, and held it over Clara’s awaiting mouth. The blood beginning to trickle unto her tongue, Clara closed her eyes, her lips encircling over the gash on Katherine’s delicate wrist, the veins pulsing and rising underneath the alabaster skin.
To be continued...
By: Megan
Chapter 9: Shine A Little Light Part 1
Author's Note:
So, first of all, I wanted to apologize again for another hideous break in between chapters. My computer broke down while I was at school and I had to wait till I finally went home to get it fixed and retrieve all my files, including this chapter. This entry to the story, Shine A Little Light, reveals some HUGE things and I actually refer to it as the beginning of everything that is going to happen here on out. I've had to cut the chapter in half, as just to update sooner because I really don't have time to write over Spring Break. That being said, the original cut of this chapter will roughly come out to about 20 pages long. Yeah, it's that big. This chunk is still the longest addition to the story, though. But, whatevs. You just want to get on with the reading right? ;)
Lying in the guest bedroom, despite that he should probably been up and out, Damon laid there on his back on the mattress, his eyes fixed on the paneled ceiling. The fact that Elena had actually shown up in the first place, despite the intention, it seemed just to strange. Almost enough to make the moment seem insignificant. Although, it stuck out in the sea of the countless images that had cluttered the files of his brain for all those years. He just didn’t want to think about it. But, every second of the encounter kept coming back, as if he was looking at the entire absurd thing from another perspective, outside of himself.
Without warning, a sudden sensory impulse overtook him, and Damon made his way down the stairs. For some reason he could swear… and then he was at a loss. What had it been that made him get up? There it was again. The sense of a faint familiar smell, several lost words and memories bubbled up to the surface, all too familiar.
Someone was at the door.
And walking towards it, Damon put his hand on the knob, swinging it open. And, sure enough, standing just outside and looking straight at him was a petite blond with long curly hair and green eyes.
“Clara?”
It was impossible.
“Hello, Damon.”
Everything played in real time. No agonizing slow motion, no fast paced words and quips. It just was. Clara was there, standing right in front of him. And Damon’s usual defenses almost seemed dangerously rendered useless for several seconds, the shock easing it’s way into his system, and the apparent disbelief making it’s way into the linings of his face, as every bit contorted with what almost looked like a reference to immense pain. The air around the space between him and her and the door had a consistency like molasses, hot and sticky as several mosquitoes buzzed around the lamp shinning directly above Clara’s form outside the entrance to the house.
“It can’t…” Damon’s voice hitched in his throat, the syllables refusing to make their way out, the words remained incomplete.
And Clara… smiled. And Damon couldn’t place it. Although retaining a faint sarcasm, the way her lips curled and turned up almost seemed to resemble a certain… malice? But, he wasn’t sure.
“I… I saw you… I saw you die.”
“Well, apparently not. I’m here aren’t I? Aren’t you going to let me in?”
And Damon stared at her for awhile longer. Shaking his head. “You are not Clara.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. Are you going to let me in or not?”
“No.”
Clara shrugged, her small pale hands in her jean pockets, and Damon could see the tiny muscles in her arms underneath the black sleeves of her leather jacket flex. If this was Clara, it was most definitely not the one from his past.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve been invited.”
And, walking straight past Damon and into the foyer, Clara made her way into the house. An easy and carefree stride to her step; self assured and confident. Damon came to the conclusion that she apparently was masking some sort of harbored fear of him, or she had none at all. And, that was not a good thing. He should know, someone with nothing to loose didn’t even acknowledge the concept of “fear” or understand the definition. He was that person. And if this was Clara, she was too.
“I love the perks about being a vamp, you know? Thankfully it isn’t like those bullshit fables or fairy tales. One time, one word ‘you can come in’, and you can, well, come in whenever you want. Even if it is 100 plus years after the fact.”
She smiled at Damon, her eyes gleaming. And he was vaguely reminded of putting Elena in the similar position only several months ago. Be careful who you invite in the house. Only this time, this time, the game was much more dangerous. The players were on level ground.
“God, last time I saw you… It was a long time ago.”
Clara’s green eyes, clear as a pair of glass marbles and twinkling like a mischievous cat’s, scanned the room. Damon studied her face. She didn’t look a day over sixteen. However, there was something different about her. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, the careless and delicate tremor to her voice, or that she seemed to carry with her a wealth of knowledge that far surpassed what appeared to be her ideal age. Yes, she appeared like a porcelain doll, but look closely enough, and you’d cut yourself on a jagged untamed edge and bleed. There was something threatening about her, and quite honestly, it unsettled Damon.
Hearing the footsteps behind him, Damon turned to see Stefan trotting down the stairs, rubbing his eyes from apparent lack of sleep.
“I heard something. What is all the…”
And, upon seeing Clara, Stefan froze at the foot of the stairs.
“What the hell?!”
Clara looked at him as a mother who might have scolded a child for taking one to many homemade cookies from the pantry.
“Now, that is no way to treat a guest.”
Stefan eyed Damon, as if asking permission on what their next move should be. He didn’t believe it either; this must have been someone who took Clara’s form. Iscariot wasn’t beyond that type of mischief. They were smart about how they went around things.
“You’re not a guest,” Damon spat. “You’re probably a demon.”
Not knowing if it would actually work, not knowing if his senses were attuned enough, Damon lunged for Clara, grabbing her arm.
“Damon, no!”
The last words he heard drifted from Clara’s voice, shaken with terror and tinged with sadness… perhaps for him? But, he wasn’t able to discern between them as his mind was plunged into the past.
The play, for which Clara had taken a whole several days to write, was nearly ready to be put on. She had forgone breakfast and lunch, the knots in her stomach growing tighter with anticipation, wondering if anyone at all would love it. Well, of course they would have to, Katherine was going to be in it, the star of it actually, the leading lady, the femme fatale. There was no doubt that it would not be a success, it was being put on for Mr. Salvatore’s business partners. And, no man could resist Katherine.
Clara had always been in awe of her older sister. And, no matter what any of her friends thought, jealousy never even played a part in the relationship. Clara envied her sister yes, but if anything, all she wanted to do was to be her when she grew older. Katherine would, at times, brush Clara’s hair in the morning and help her with her powder and pearls, taking her in her arms and saying “In the next several years, you will be so glamorous and so adored, you will have surpassed even my tiny shoes!” And Clara would giggle and embrace Katherine, because even the thought of being remotely like the sister she had placed on a pedestal filled her with excitement and tremendous joy.
But, for the past several months, Katherine had been different. Uncharacteristically cold and complacent. It was only when Clara had followed her one night to the woods, that she saw her own sister feeding on a runaway slave, that she discovered the truth. Katherine had been turned only several months before in Paris. She had been in a dreadful carriage wreck on her way to the boat to come home.
The driver had gone missing, but when Katherine had awoken on the muddy ground, choking on her own blood and a mouthful of water, was it that she discovered someone had turned her. She told Clara all of this rather shamelessly, and Clara swore to keep her sister’s secret. She couldn’t bear for them to be separated, let alone the townspeople were lately rounding up those they considered “demons” and that included the vampires. If Clara could do anything useful at her young age, she came to the conclusion that it would be to protect her sister.
At the moment Clara was rather upset, because with the short time that it would take for the business partner’s to arrive, there would be no time for another audition for the tragedy that she had concocted for Katherine to play out on the tiny makeshift stage built up in the living area. At sometimes chilling, and at others desperately sad, the play told the tale of a love destroyed, conveying the cautionary moral that one not built on a foundation of good sense was doomed. And, as a guilty but curious Clara spied on her sister and the older Salvatore brother in the confined space and the spiraling stairwell, she knew exactly what her inspiration had been.
Katherine was dressed in a plain red linen gown, a white collar sticking up, with a silk scarf around her neck, the ends tucked neatly into the petite jacket that she wore. Damon was beside her with one hand on her elbow, his body barring the entrance for her to leave. He was obviously confronting her about something.
“I want to know why you carry on with Stefan like this.”
“And I want to know why you care. You still have me. It’s something for me to do, I can have anything or anyone I want now.”
“Is this a joke? It’s because I pick my brains apart every night thinking about him rubbing his hands all over you.”
“No it’s not a joke, Damon. And, besides you’re not here half the time. You’re off doing something all the time even after you deserted the confederacy. What am I supposed to do while you away?”
“You managed perfectly well before.”
“Yes, but that was before I became what I am. I have needs, you know. And besides, I’m sure that you have a menagerie on admirers.”
“And I never give them the time of day.”
“Don’t sulk, it not becoming.”
“Do you think I give a damn?”
“I don’t think you’re sleeping alone in these other towns every night.”
“So, you fabricating these encounters with me and other women in your head gives you license to amuse yourself with my brother?”
“And why not?”
“Because, that is not the woman I fell in love with.”
And, with that comment from Damon’s lips, Clara saw her sister let out a tiny sigh, with several tears escaping her eyes and dribbling down her cheeks. She started to cry, taking Damon’s hand in her own, and Clara, in all honestly, could not figure out why Katherine hadn’t done this before when her sister said,
“I’m sorry.”
Damon looked taken aback, guilty that he had made Katherine upset, and sighing; he embraced her as she put her thin arms around his neck and squeezed tightly.
“I’ve made some terrible mistakes haven’t I?” Katherine said, hiccupping between her soft sobs, as Damon rubbed her back and nodded. “Yes, you have. But, it doesn’t mean we can’t fix this.” Katherine, her hands still firmly placed on Damon’s shoulder and his on her waist, looked him into the eyes, a flicker of hope between them.
“Okay?” Damon smiled at her, wiping the tears away from her cheeks, and Katherine let out a relieved exclamation, nodding.
“I have to go now,” Damon said releasing her from his grasp, “I have some work to do. I want you to keep safe and just stay inside, though. I know you think you’re invincible, but the villagers are mad.”
Katherine let out a little laugh, and bending her head towards Damon, the two shared a light kiss. He nodded, putting head down and closing his eyes out of the pure joy and relief of the moment, taking Katherine’s curly head in one hand and placing a kiss on her forehead. Walking towards the door, Damon turned as Katherine stopped him with several words.
“I can make him forget. I’ll end it tonight.”
After dinner, Clara had been told that her play was canceled due to the fact that the partners were not coming because Mr. Salvatore would be out until very late, maybe not even come until early in the morning. Not receiving an explanation as to why, and obviously upset over the turn of events, Katherine took Clara into her arms, telling her that she could sleep in her room tonight.
Laying there next to the cold form of her sister, (wasn’t she supposed to be technically dead after all?) The two girls were awakened by a loud crash. Katherine jolted up out of the bed.
“What the hell?”
Slipping on her robe and putting on a pair of slippers, Clara looked stuck still in horror as Katherine put her tiny hands on her sisters own.
“You stay here, alright? I’m going to go check out what is going on. It’s probably some fuss over nothing between the servants.”
And even Clara could see through the transparent façade that her sister was using to mask her fear.
“But, Kathy…”
“Do as I say.”
During the five minutes that Katherine had gone out the door, Clara heard the shattering of glass downstairs. There were several screams. And, just then, Katherine ran back into the room, shutting the door.
“They’re here! Clara get under the bed.” Katherine took a key from her dresser, locking the door.
“Clara, I said get under the bed this instant!”
“But, what about you Kathy?”
Clara started to shake with fear, and she began to cry. Katherine simply tried to give her a reassuring smile, taking her in her arms. “I’m going to be fine. There is a place where I can go. The Fells have somewhere they can hide me in their house. I’ll find you tomorrow, okay? Damon will be here then. I’ll either be here to fetch you, or he will. I just need you to be quiet for me and get under the bed. Can you do that?”
“Where is Stefan and everyone else?”
“I don’t know. Just do this for me, please?”
Clara nodded. And, as Katherine left her, she put her ear to the wooden planks underneath as she his underneath the furniture, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Only, it didn’t matter. Because, a mere five minutes later, Clara felt a pair a strong hands grab her legs and pull her out, as she screamed for her life.
Katherine never knew what had brought her there. There were only three times in her life that she remembers as vividly as the day she lived them, the day Clara was born, the day she was turned into a vampire, and… the day she had met Damon. And, as she stood in the old church with another 26 vampires, leaning against a pew for support, she didn’t know whether or not this would be one to add to the list. She wondered if she should pray.
And, as everyone surrounding her caught their breaths as the door to the church was open, and several men stepped in, Katherine witnessed a sight that made her wish she had never been born. Clara, being led into the vicinity, bruised and bloody. A black welt covering her left eye, shutting it closed as the skin flapped over it, with her face covered in blood, and her hands, black with ash and shaking. And, she was being led by none other than Giuseppe Salvatore. Clara was thrown into Katherine’s arms. Katherine, holding her close, could feel dislocated joints beneath Clara’s dress. At least three bones had been broken.
Clara managed to let out a raspy breath, looking up at her sister.
“Kathy?”
Katherine, having a firm hold on Clara, looked up at the Salvatore’s boys’ father, a look of smug malice in his eyes. She knew her sister, being as young as she was, could not sustain these injuries. Clara was going to die.
“I’ll tear your heart out with my own hands. You will pay for this.”
Giuseppe Salvatore smiled, walking up to Katherine, a glimmer of victory in his eyes.
“You, you little witch, will never go near my sons or see the light of day again. However…” Salvatore scanned the room and it’s occupants, “Some of you may live and be forgiven for your heinous acts if you tell me the location of several others that we are looking for. Most in particular, a witch named Emily.”
And, despite the others protest, one of the prisoners in the background spoke up.
“She is near the Black Swamp several miles from here.”
Giuseppe Salvatore smiled, and backing towards the doors, told his men to shut them.
“But, I thought you said we would be forgiven?”
Giuseppe smiled, straightening his jacket.
“Perhaps. But that is between you and God.”
And, with that, the doors to the church were shut. And the windows snapped close, blocking out any moonlight. It was only several minutes later that billows of smoke escaped from the hinges and below the entrance, rising from the floor. The screams became painfully loud, as several others tried to take candelabras and bash in the doors. But, Katherine knew it would not matter. They were bolted anyway. Clara, looking down at the flames through the slits in the windows that began eating into the walls, and as she inhaled the thick smoke into her lungs, became aware with what was happening. And she released herself from Katherine’s grasp, trying to run to the door, sobbing hysterically. Katherine grabbed hold of her, however, and taking her face in her hands looked Clara straight in the eye.
“Listen to me Clara. Listen to me! We are going to get out of this. It is going to be alright.”
And knowing they would be ignored by the others who were trying desperately to find a way out, Katherine led her sister over to the marble altar, having Clara lean on her for support. As they reached it, Katherine did her best to lift the heavy red velvet rug underneath it, revealing a trap door. Leaning down and encircling her tiny fingers over the handle of the hatch, Katherine pulled it open, leading Clara inside. The grimy metal ladder that they climbed down seemed to take for hours until they finally reached the bottom of, what appeared to be, a sewer system.
Having found their safe haven, Clara’s hand slipped from Katherine’s grasp, and she slipped, falling unto the ground, her legs so weak and strained she was not able to support herself up. Katherine knelt down beside her, screaming frantically, “Clara! Wake up, please wake up!” Clara, having been unconscious for only a moment, opened her eyes at her sister’s plea, forcing the lids open. Katherine, staring her intently in the face for what seemed an eternity, took a deep breath, having come to a conclusion.
“I need to turn you.”
Clara looked up at her sister, terror in her eyes and unacceptance of the present circumstances. However, she knew Katherine spoke the truth.”
“If I don’t turn you, you are going to die.”
Katherine, taking placing a hand on Clara’s cheek, looked at her reassuringly.
“I’m going to get this over with very quickly, alright? You are going to be fine.”
And, before Clara could allow any more of the anticipation or fear sink in, Katherine sunk her teeth into her sister’s neck. After she had drunk as little as possible, Katherine bit her wrist, and held it over Clara’s awaiting mouth. The blood beginning to trickle unto her tongue, Clara closed her eyes, her lips encircling over the gash on Katherine’s delicate wrist, the veins pulsing and rising underneath the alabaster skin.
To be continued...