These Vampire Hearts & Operatic Skeletons [01/02]
Title: These Vampire Hearts & Operatic Skeletons.
Author: Me [ shattered_ink ]
Rated: PG - mild, mild swearing & use of fangs.
Summary: It's 1899, before the age of Twilight, when mortals and vampires had an even harder chance of hooking up. Will Beckett and his friends - Brendon and Pete - have never cared much about mortals. Until one of them witnesses something that throws her into the whole bloody mess.
Disclaimer: Don't own; didn't happen. The whole Dandies vampire thing is swiped from Fall Out Boy's video for "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me," in which Brendon & Will & Pete played vampires. I own Cora and James, but not Ashley, who is somewhat based on Ashlee Simpson except the real Ashlee is not a drunk. At least, I don't think so. The title is partly from Nearly Witches by Panic at the Disco ( oh, I mean, The Paul Revere Jumpsuit Apparatus ).
A/N: This was either going to be a series or a one-shot, and it now falls somewhere in between. It's like 4k words, so here is 2.1k of them & the rest is coming soon. Hope you like it, even though it's quite ... different than my other stuff.
Thou shalt not court mortals.
Yet another coven rule Pete chose to ignore. He raised his champagne, his glass clinking with Brendon’s and Will’s in a toast. “Cheers,” Pete declared, “to me and my latest mortal delicacy.”
“Cheers,” the boys echoed. Pete and Brendon downed their shots.
Will cupped his goblet in both hands, staring at the amber liquid inside, imagining how it would taste to him if he were mortal. The drink rippled with the noise of people shouting and laughing and dancing in the ballroom down the hall. Most of them were young and rich mortals who - being drunk senseless and half out of their minds - wouldn’t remember a minute of this in the morning. Humans, Dandies were quick to point out, were some of the most foolish creatures under the sun.
Will set his drink down and stood. “I’m going to dance,” he lied.
Pete’s head bobbed to some inaudible beat. “Dance dance dance,” he murmured, the words slurring almost as well as a mortal’s. It was sad, how Pete could trick himself into thinking he was the least bit human. But the fangs behind his lips and the sallow color of his skin and the silent heart beneath his tailored suits stated what should have been obvious: Pete wasn’t human. Neither was Brendon or Will or more than half the town’s finest.
“Didn’t you say you were going to dance?” Brendon asked. Champagne spilled down the sides of his mouth. “Damn it.”
“Oh. Right.” Will nodded. “Dancing.”
“You’re standing there,” Pete pointed out.
“So I am.” He hesitated, caught between explaining the whole truth and hiding from it again. “I have a bad feeling,” he tried. “A premonition, even. A mortal -” He frowned, losing his grip on the words. “Someone - someone’s going to get hurt.”
“Oh, so pessimistic, Beckett,” Pete chided as he slid his finger along the edge of his glass.
“I don’t know,” Brendon said. “He sounds serious.”
A sudden glimpse of awareness shone like a match being lit in his eyes. “It’s Ashley,” he said. “I’m seeing Ashley. You’re not meeting with her tonight, I hope.”
Pete frowned. “Of course I am. She’s my new mortal, Will, what would you expect?”
“Please. Be careful, Pete.”
Brendon nodded solemnly, unaware of the champagne running from his nose.
“Relax,” Pete said, stretching his arms and draining the last droplets from his glass. “I do this all the time.”
Cora stepped out of the crowds and into the night, taking in the tall silhouette-buildings with their eerie yellow window-eyes. She’d been running up and down the long halls and winding staircases of the Berkeley Manor, searching the cloakrooms and kitchens and guest rooms and even the ballroom for her friend, but Ashley was nowhere to be found.
Cora tapped the shoulder of a gentleman who was stepping outside for a smoke. “Excuse me? Have you seen a red-haired girl, about my height and age?”
The man - cigar clenched between his teeth - shook his head and shrugged. Cora sighed, rubbed the space between her eyebrows, where she could feel the throbs of a headache coming on. “Thank you,” she said to the man, brushing past him and into the manor once again.
The halls were darker, it seemed, as she breezed down them for the third or fourth time that night. Some torches were lit at intervals, but their flickering cast a sinister feel on the whole place. It seemed as though Ash chose the darkest times of night to get drunk and wander into cloakrooms with handsome strangers.
Sure enough, the cloakroom at the end of the hall had its door slightly agape, a stretch of light seeping out into the dark. Cora sucked in a breath of relief and impatience as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
What she saw registered in snippets: dark hair and red hair and red stains on pale skin; sharp teeth on her throat and her head tipped back as she laughed; glassy eyes and a distant expression as he pulled away, running his tongue over his blood-stained lips; him - this stranger, this monster - turning from Ash to Cora, the atmosphere in the room curdling like sour milk.
She didn’t wait for an explanation. She whipped around, desperate to go, but found herself cut off from running and - for a second - breathing. Another stranger - a taller one, with kinder eyes and a sadder, softer face - stood in the doorway. He took in the scene the same way she had - piece by piece. His eyes found hers and locked there, and she could see the fear and guilt and fascination written on his face. But as he studied hers, beauty aside, he couldn’t place what he saw there. She was different, he could tell, different in a way that both scared him and intrigued him.
And when she murmured, “Excuse me,” and swept past him, it was all he could do to avoid chasing after her.
Rule one of the Dandies Coven: don’t talk about the Dandies Coven.
Pete drew the curtains shut, blocking out the sunlight as it began to filter through the dust-coated attic windows. He sat and put his head in his hands, cursing himself and clawing at his scalp. “This isn’t good,” he muttered. “This is not good.”
Brendon burped. “Maybe she didn’t see anything.”
“For some reason, I highly doubt that.”
Will kept his eyes on the splintering floorboards. The night rolled through his mind, like watching a reel of film unravel and flicker in black and white. This wasn’t normal; she wasn’t normal. She had the look of someone who had seen things, who knew things. It would be a mistake to underestimate her.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Pete noted. “What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”
“Nothing,” he lied. “At least nothing that makes sense. I doubt she’s a threat but -”
Pete gave a stubborn shake of his head. “No. You need to watch her. I can’t afford for the coven to be exposed.”
“Then stop making out with the mortals in public,” Brendon said. “Or at least bring home some extras. I’m being sex-deprived here.”
“You’ll live,” Pete said, then he turned to Will, pleading. “Can I trust you to keep her mouth shut?”
Will’s hands shook at the thought of being close enough to touch her, to hear her words and monitor them, but his voice was light and delicate when he said, “I’ll guard her,” and crossed his stone-cold heart.
The ballroom was massive and crowded and vast, but the first thing Will noticed was her. She leaned against the wall on the opposite side, her head tilted to the side as she listened to her red-haired friend - Pete’s mortal - giggling and clapping. Pete clamped a hand on Will’s shoulder and said, “I’m going to see Ash,” before he disappeared into the sea of nameless faces.
Will wasn’t sure how long he’d been watching her when she looked up, smiled, and started towards him. He decided, then and there, that she was beautiful. Not beautiful, for a mortal, but beautiful, period. Without thinking, he started walking towards her. She seemed closer and closer, almost there with him - and then she stopped. A man with dark hair and wicked eyes leaned close to her, whispered something in her ear, and before Will could process what the hell was happening, this man was leading her out of the ballroom, away from him, down the hall on the right - the hall that lead to the ballroom.
He’d sworn to guard her, had crossed his heart - so he took off after them.
It was the same feeling that had rippled beneath his skin last night. The door was open again, and as Will approached he could hear their voices louder and clearer. He slid against the wall like a shadow and tried not to breathe as the cat-like purr that was James’s voice slipped out into the hall.
“Miss Swanson - may I call you Cora?”
“Either is fine.”
“Cora.” Will could almost see the lewd smile shaping his words. “I’m not sure we’ve had the pleasure of being properly introduced.”
“You must be quite engaged with your own affairs, then.”
His laugh was demure. “I suppose so. Though speaking of engagement” - he lowered his voice - “you are aware that I’ve reached the age when one must begin his search for a wife.”
There was a pause. “I’m aware.”
“Good. Then you must also be aware of how appealing you are,” he said. “To me, especially.”
Will’s fingers cracked as he curled them into fists. He willed himself not to move. Not yet.
“Mr. Berkeley,” Cora started. “Mr. Berkeley,” she said again, but she had no words beyond that.
Will listened to the silence - the silence of anticipation and reluctance and fear and greed - and he felt a knot in his chest where his heart should have been once the silence had stretched on for too long. He shoved the door open and stumbled into the scene, and he saw Cora hugging herself and James’s eyes lit up with a ravenous lust, and Will didn’t know where he fit in between them. So he stood near the doorway and watched. Waited.
Cora looked up, blinked and smiled and whispered: “It’s you.”
His smile was crooked when he said, “It is.”
James’s lips smiled but his eyes seethed. “I wasn’t aware that you had met Cora, Mr. Beckett.”
“I wasn’t aware that you had either.”
“Mr. Beckett,” Cora cut in, smiling at the sound and feeling of his name. “I was looking for you earlier. You wouldn’t have happened to see Miss Simmons, would you?” There was a hint of something desperate in her voice, her eyes. “Miss Ashley Simmons?” she said again, and there was that edge, so subtle that Will almost missed it.
“I have,” he said, carefully. “I saw her last in the ballroom. Perhaps I could take you to her?”
She smiled. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” To James, she said, “My apologies, Mr. Berkeley. Perhaps some other time.”
He forced a smile. “Of course.”
Will’s grin was mildly smug as he laced his fingers with hers, and the sudden life that surged through him was too real to be ignored. “Goodbye, James,” he said, but he couldn’t tell whether the voice that had said it belonged to him or not, whether he was floating outside of himself or still grounded like a mortal. He felt like he was drifting with Cora as they glided out of the door and down the dark, endless hall.
And then these words broke through his thoughts and rang loud inside his head:
It appears to me that we are of the same blood, Mr. Beckett.
He shuddered.
“Are you all right?” Cora asked, and he wish he knew the answer. He turned, and the sight of her snatched the breath right out of him. It wasn’t even her eyes or her smile or her skin. It was her as a whole - her collective pieces - that made her so beautiful. And he was so transfixed, so caught up in wondering how a human could make him feel this way, that he forgot - for a moment - about the voice he’d heard. The voice of another vampire.
Trust your instincts.
“He’s dangerous.”
“He’s rich.” Pete shrugged. “He owns the whole damn manor himself. So he’s a snob. Doesn’t make him a threat.”
“I’ve seen him before,” Will insisted. “In visions, in nightmares - somewhere. He’s up to something.”
Pete sighed. “Brendon?”
“Huh? Oh, excuse me, I wasn’t listening.” He flicked something brown from his finger.
“You know what the problem is?” Pete said. “I think you’re jealous.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Of course.” Pete snorted. “Envy doesn’t look too good on you, Will. Besides, it’s not as though you love her.”
Love: leave it to mortals to reduce such a passionate and intense and real thing to a common, four-letter word. “That’s beside the point,” Will snapped, crossing his arms. “I still consider James Berkeley a threat. The way he looks at her -” He stopped, left the words to linger. In a softer, almost weaker voice, he whispered, “I don’t trust him.”
“Forget him,” Pete said. “Just keep the girl out of trouble and keep her lips sealed.”
Will closed his eyes, slowly nodded his surrender - for the time being. There was something dark lurking beneath the surface, something Pete and Brendon and all the drunk and dancing mortals weren’t seeing. There were Voices no one else was hearing. But Will would put this together, figure this out, one piece at a time.
Though these things were often easier said than done.
2/2.
Author: Me [ shattered_ink ]
Rated: PG - mild, mild swearing & use of fangs.
Summary: It's 1899, before the age of Twilight, when mortals and vampires had an even harder chance of hooking up. Will Beckett and his friends - Brendon and Pete - have never cared much about mortals. Until one of them witnesses something that throws her into the whole bloody mess.
Disclaimer: Don't own; didn't happen. The whole Dandies vampire thing is swiped from Fall Out Boy's video for "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me," in which Brendon & Will & Pete played vampires. I own Cora and James, but not Ashley, who is somewhat based on Ashlee Simpson except the real Ashlee is not a drunk. At least, I don't think so. The title is partly from Nearly Witches by Panic at the Disco ( oh, I mean, The Paul Revere Jumpsuit Apparatus ).
A/N: This was either going to be a series or a one-shot, and it now falls somewhere in between. It's like 4k words, so here is 2.1k of them & the rest is coming soon. Hope you like it, even though it's quite ... different than my other stuff.
Thou shalt not court mortals.
Yet another coven rule Pete chose to ignore. He raised his champagne, his glass clinking with Brendon’s and Will’s in a toast. “Cheers,” Pete declared, “to me and my latest mortal delicacy.”
“Cheers,” the boys echoed. Pete and Brendon downed their shots.
Will cupped his goblet in both hands, staring at the amber liquid inside, imagining how it would taste to him if he were mortal. The drink rippled with the noise of people shouting and laughing and dancing in the ballroom down the hall. Most of them were young and rich mortals who - being drunk senseless and half out of their minds - wouldn’t remember a minute of this in the morning. Humans, Dandies were quick to point out, were some of the most foolish creatures under the sun.
Will set his drink down and stood. “I’m going to dance,” he lied.
Pete’s head bobbed to some inaudible beat. “Dance dance dance,” he murmured, the words slurring almost as well as a mortal’s. It was sad, how Pete could trick himself into thinking he was the least bit human. But the fangs behind his lips and the sallow color of his skin and the silent heart beneath his tailored suits stated what should have been obvious: Pete wasn’t human. Neither was Brendon or Will or more than half the town’s finest.
“Didn’t you say you were going to dance?” Brendon asked. Champagne spilled down the sides of his mouth. “Damn it.”
“Oh. Right.” Will nodded. “Dancing.”
“You’re standing there,” Pete pointed out.
“So I am.” He hesitated, caught between explaining the whole truth and hiding from it again. “I have a bad feeling,” he tried. “A premonition, even. A mortal -” He frowned, losing his grip on the words. “Someone - someone’s going to get hurt.”
“Oh, so pessimistic, Beckett,” Pete chided as he slid his finger along the edge of his glass.
“I don’t know,” Brendon said. “He sounds serious.”
A sudden glimpse of awareness shone like a match being lit in his eyes. “It’s Ashley,” he said. “I’m seeing Ashley. You’re not meeting with her tonight, I hope.”
Pete frowned. “Of course I am. She’s my new mortal, Will, what would you expect?”
“Please. Be careful, Pete.”
Brendon nodded solemnly, unaware of the champagne running from his nose.
“Relax,” Pete said, stretching his arms and draining the last droplets from his glass. “I do this all the time.”
Cora stepped out of the crowds and into the night, taking in the tall silhouette-buildings with their eerie yellow window-eyes. She’d been running up and down the long halls and winding staircases of the Berkeley Manor, searching the cloakrooms and kitchens and guest rooms and even the ballroom for her friend, but Ashley was nowhere to be found.
Cora tapped the shoulder of a gentleman who was stepping outside for a smoke. “Excuse me? Have you seen a red-haired girl, about my height and age?”
The man - cigar clenched between his teeth - shook his head and shrugged. Cora sighed, rubbed the space between her eyebrows, where she could feel the throbs of a headache coming on. “Thank you,” she said to the man, brushing past him and into the manor once again.
The halls were darker, it seemed, as she breezed down them for the third or fourth time that night. Some torches were lit at intervals, but their flickering cast a sinister feel on the whole place. It seemed as though Ash chose the darkest times of night to get drunk and wander into cloakrooms with handsome strangers.
Sure enough, the cloakroom at the end of the hall had its door slightly agape, a stretch of light seeping out into the dark. Cora sucked in a breath of relief and impatience as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
What she saw registered in snippets: dark hair and red hair and red stains on pale skin; sharp teeth on her throat and her head tipped back as she laughed; glassy eyes and a distant expression as he pulled away, running his tongue over his blood-stained lips; him - this stranger, this monster - turning from Ash to Cora, the atmosphere in the room curdling like sour milk.
She didn’t wait for an explanation. She whipped around, desperate to go, but found herself cut off from running and - for a second - breathing. Another stranger - a taller one, with kinder eyes and a sadder, softer face - stood in the doorway. He took in the scene the same way she had - piece by piece. His eyes found hers and locked there, and she could see the fear and guilt and fascination written on his face. But as he studied hers, beauty aside, he couldn’t place what he saw there. She was different, he could tell, different in a way that both scared him and intrigued him.
And when she murmured, “Excuse me,” and swept past him, it was all he could do to avoid chasing after her.
Rule one of the Dandies Coven: don’t talk about the Dandies Coven.
Pete drew the curtains shut, blocking out the sunlight as it began to filter through the dust-coated attic windows. He sat and put his head in his hands, cursing himself and clawing at his scalp. “This isn’t good,” he muttered. “This is not good.”
Brendon burped. “Maybe she didn’t see anything.”
“For some reason, I highly doubt that.”
Will kept his eyes on the splintering floorboards. The night rolled through his mind, like watching a reel of film unravel and flicker in black and white. This wasn’t normal; she wasn’t normal. She had the look of someone who had seen things, who knew things. It would be a mistake to underestimate her.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Pete noted. “What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”
“Nothing,” he lied. “At least nothing that makes sense. I doubt she’s a threat but -”
Pete gave a stubborn shake of his head. “No. You need to watch her. I can’t afford for the coven to be exposed.”
“Then stop making out with the mortals in public,” Brendon said. “Or at least bring home some extras. I’m being sex-deprived here.”
“You’ll live,” Pete said, then he turned to Will, pleading. “Can I trust you to keep her mouth shut?”
Will’s hands shook at the thought of being close enough to touch her, to hear her words and monitor them, but his voice was light and delicate when he said, “I’ll guard her,” and crossed his stone-cold heart.
The ballroom was massive and crowded and vast, but the first thing Will noticed was her. She leaned against the wall on the opposite side, her head tilted to the side as she listened to her red-haired friend - Pete’s mortal - giggling and clapping. Pete clamped a hand on Will’s shoulder and said, “I’m going to see Ash,” before he disappeared into the sea of nameless faces.
Will wasn’t sure how long he’d been watching her when she looked up, smiled, and started towards him. He decided, then and there, that she was beautiful. Not beautiful, for a mortal, but beautiful, period. Without thinking, he started walking towards her. She seemed closer and closer, almost there with him - and then she stopped. A man with dark hair and wicked eyes leaned close to her, whispered something in her ear, and before Will could process what the hell was happening, this man was leading her out of the ballroom, away from him, down the hall on the right - the hall that lead to the ballroom.
He’d sworn to guard her, had crossed his heart - so he took off after them.
It was the same feeling that had rippled beneath his skin last night. The door was open again, and as Will approached he could hear their voices louder and clearer. He slid against the wall like a shadow and tried not to breathe as the cat-like purr that was James’s voice slipped out into the hall.
“Miss Swanson - may I call you Cora?”
“Either is fine.”
“Cora.” Will could almost see the lewd smile shaping his words. “I’m not sure we’ve had the pleasure of being properly introduced.”
“You must be quite engaged with your own affairs, then.”
His laugh was demure. “I suppose so. Though speaking of engagement” - he lowered his voice - “you are aware that I’ve reached the age when one must begin his search for a wife.”
There was a pause. “I’m aware.”
“Good. Then you must also be aware of how appealing you are,” he said. “To me, especially.”
Will’s fingers cracked as he curled them into fists. He willed himself not to move. Not yet.
“Mr. Berkeley,” Cora started. “Mr. Berkeley,” she said again, but she had no words beyond that.
Will listened to the silence - the silence of anticipation and reluctance and fear and greed - and he felt a knot in his chest where his heart should have been once the silence had stretched on for too long. He shoved the door open and stumbled into the scene, and he saw Cora hugging herself and James’s eyes lit up with a ravenous lust, and Will didn’t know where he fit in between them. So he stood near the doorway and watched. Waited.
Cora looked up, blinked and smiled and whispered: “It’s you.”
His smile was crooked when he said, “It is.”
James’s lips smiled but his eyes seethed. “I wasn’t aware that you had met Cora, Mr. Beckett.”
“I wasn’t aware that you had either.”
“Mr. Beckett,” Cora cut in, smiling at the sound and feeling of his name. “I was looking for you earlier. You wouldn’t have happened to see Miss Simmons, would you?” There was a hint of something desperate in her voice, her eyes. “Miss Ashley Simmons?” she said again, and there was that edge, so subtle that Will almost missed it.
“I have,” he said, carefully. “I saw her last in the ballroom. Perhaps I could take you to her?”
She smiled. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” To James, she said, “My apologies, Mr. Berkeley. Perhaps some other time.”
He forced a smile. “Of course.”
Will’s grin was mildly smug as he laced his fingers with hers, and the sudden life that surged through him was too real to be ignored. “Goodbye, James,” he said, but he couldn’t tell whether the voice that had said it belonged to him or not, whether he was floating outside of himself or still grounded like a mortal. He felt like he was drifting with Cora as they glided out of the door and down the dark, endless hall.
And then these words broke through his thoughts and rang loud inside his head:
It appears to me that we are of the same blood, Mr. Beckett.
He shuddered.
“Are you all right?” Cora asked, and he wish he knew the answer. He turned, and the sight of her snatched the breath right out of him. It wasn’t even her eyes or her smile or her skin. It was her as a whole - her collective pieces - that made her so beautiful. And he was so transfixed, so caught up in wondering how a human could make him feel this way, that he forgot - for a moment - about the voice he’d heard. The voice of another vampire.
Trust your instincts.
“He’s dangerous.”
“He’s rich.” Pete shrugged. “He owns the whole damn manor himself. So he’s a snob. Doesn’t make him a threat.”
“I’ve seen him before,” Will insisted. “In visions, in nightmares - somewhere. He’s up to something.”
Pete sighed. “Brendon?”
“Huh? Oh, excuse me, I wasn’t listening.” He flicked something brown from his finger.
“You know what the problem is?” Pete said. “I think you’re jealous.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Of course.” Pete snorted. “Envy doesn’t look too good on you, Will. Besides, it’s not as though you love her.”
Love: leave it to mortals to reduce such a passionate and intense and real thing to a common, four-letter word. “That’s beside the point,” Will snapped, crossing his arms. “I still consider James Berkeley a threat. The way he looks at her -” He stopped, left the words to linger. In a softer, almost weaker voice, he whispered, “I don’t trust him.”
“Forget him,” Pete said. “Just keep the girl out of trouble and keep her lips sealed.”
Will closed his eyes, slowly nodded his surrender - for the time being. There was something dark lurking beneath the surface, something Pete and Brendon and all the drunk and dancing mortals weren’t seeing. There were Voices no one else was hearing. But Will would put this together, figure this out, one piece at a time.
Though these things were often easier said than done.
2/2.