{ Eevee- Spring Green}
{ Gandrell-Crimson}
{Meph-Deep Sky Blue}
What was a normal life like? Was it waking up in a comfortable bed, being able to clean yourself, maybe have a little breakfast? What would you do then? Perhaps go to school, or to the mall with your friends maybe? See a movie, or go out to a dance. Have dinner with a family that loved you. Go to bed without a worry that you’d be injured that night? Maybe. Eighteen year old Evangeline often wondered what normal teenagers did, because those experiences were nothing but a dream to the young wolf. At least, she hoped she was indeed a wolf. Despite her age, there had been no whispers or changing in her body yet. Little did she know, that was because her body was simply too exhausted and broken to sustain the wolf.
For those eighteen years, Evangeline had been a slave to the Golden Crest pack. Their Alpha, Alpha Sampson, had murdered her father in cold blood when he had accidentally crossed into their land in search of food for his child, and wife. After the quick and brutal murder, the Alpha, upon discovering the man was holding and trying to protect a baby, spared likely the only mercy he had ever had, and took the baby in. However, in the years to come, she would wish he had killed her too. This, though, was not to be. Instead, she was trained as their slave. She was never given a name, except for ‘Dolly’, something she hated. As early as five years old, she was picking up their laundry, and washing the dishes. The first slap came when she was six, and accidentally dropped a slippery plate.
The slaps continued from there. Each one grew harder, or faster. A sucker punch from around a corner, a bottle thrown at her head. Or simply being thrown into the shattered bottles, cutting her young flesh as they screamed. As abuse does, this escalated very quickly, to the point that the pack took every issue they had, real or imaginary, out on Evangeline. This could include anything from a bad day, to some actual issue they’ve decided. The punishments also increased, ranging from a simple backhand or shove while being passed, all the way to a severe beating. She was made to swallow wolfsbane, and hit with whips that had the edges sharpened and dipped in that poison. She was cut with silver, had anything and everything thrown at her. The only thing of value she’d ever had, her baby blanket that had her real name stitched into it, the first and only time she had seen it, had been burned in front of her while she cried over the loss of her name, her last piece of identity. Evangeline. It was beautiful, but it was not the name they referred to her as. When they decided she was dirty, she was thrown outside into the small river and held under until she almost blacked out. She’d always remember the laughter as she fought to stay conscious. She was also shoved down to the basement of the large house, locked away in a tiny, tiny cell each night after her chores, where she was served the smallest of scraps.
That tiny cell contained an old, rickety, very broken and held together with sheer willpower frame, a thin mattress that was more a cover to the wood, and a strip of a moth eaten blanket. The clothes she was allowed to serve in, dirty as they were, were neatly folded in the corner, and she had even managed to score an old lamp out of the trash one day. The lamp still worked, which made the piercing dark easier to deal with at night, and when she managed it, she even gathered a few spare pieces of paper, and upon discovering that the small black rocks could be used like charcoal, taught herself to draw. What she would draw ranged from the violence, to the people, to even the wolves she saw. As it turned out, when the skill was allowed to develop, she had a lot of natural talent at drawing, especially the wolves. Of course, very few knew what they were. What they were wasn’t known to the city of Vegas, or most of it, but the people of the pack itself certainly was. Lavish, luxurious, extremely artisocratic, charming and charismatic, they rules the casinos and controlled the money trade.
None of this was particular interest to Evangeline, who was only to be a slave during the day. At night, she was locked away again to be used as something else entirely. When she was thrown down to her cell one particular evening, she was glad to see that it hadn’t been trashed. It had happened before, and she wasn’t quite sure how many more times the lamp could be broken. It was already holding on by a wire. However, before she had a chance to settle in to do anything, she heard the heavy footsteps of the Alpha’s son, Ric. Fear struck up her spine immediately. She knew that sound, and she knew what it meant. It was the worst when he came down. His father beat, whipped and screamed at her, but this one. This one tortured her. With such sadistic pleasure. She heard the locks of the cage open, and turned to see him standing there.
When she didn’t immediately get on her knees, frozen momentarily by that fear, his hand snapped to her throat, pinning her against the wall so hard that her head bounced off the concrete. He bounced it a second time to ensure she was paying attention, splitting open her temple before he turned her. She knew what was coming when she heard his belt open, and she closed her eyes as she felt her own thin clothes be torn off. He’d done this so many times that she was able to shut it out, even as the pleasured grunts behind her accompanied the feeling of violation.
Because of the number of times this particular savagery had been done, she no longer screamed when it happened. She felt the numbness take over, and let her mind go blank so it would be over. This....quickly infuriated Ric. A third time her head hit the wall, producing a small grunt from her. “Scream, you little bitch. I want you to feel it.” Unsatisfied still, her abuser removed himself before he threw her to the ground. She felt his steel toed boots meet her stomach, a feeling that made her gasp. Wanting more, it seemed, the boots kept raining down upon her. First, she felt her rib crack, which definitely made tears form, before they released as he ensured it was broken. Next, the boots came for her face, until a sickening snap signalled the breaking of her jaw. It wasn’t until she begged him to stop, thickly through a mouth that was pouring blood, that he turned her over to continue his violation of her. By then, however, it was too much, all too much, and all she could see was red and black, and then nothing.
One Month Later
After barely two weeks of hellish recovery, all the time she was allowed, Eevee was thrown back into the chores. She had surgery to fix her jaw, and had healed enough to be able to move once more, though it was extremely delicate, but the battering to her body remained, and the punishments made sure it stayed there. It made it impossible to move without aching, or swallow without feeling like it was glass. All she knew was the minute she had woken up and been cleared to stand, she had been sent back to work. She was given a little more food this week to keep her from totally dying, and because she was expected to be able to serve. She knew that another pack was coming, and that she was to hide her face while serving. She hadn’t been allowed to bathe since the hospital, a punishment of the surgery cost and the time away, but did what she could to hide the bruises with scarves and a twist of her increasingly dirty hair.
She had served both packs, and that night, met an Alpha that she thought would be both her saviour and her mate. Although he did manage to take her from the pack house, her peace was not to last. For quite a few months, though, it seemed as if it would, and physically, she did recover. Her body healed, and she was even making contact with the wolf within. Because she didn’t see the patterns at first, she thought everything would be okay. She would also admit she learned a lot in that time, both about herself and the outside world, or at least a piece of it, and she did even make friends, or so she had thought. But the Alpha was always a little too pushy, a little too possessive, and beyond that, arrogant. Arrogant to the point that he refused to listen to Evangeline’s concerns about the Golden Crest, about Ric and their Alpha.
Although there was a lot of time Evangeline just needed to be alone, the Alpha was always right there, running his fingers through her hair, pulling her into him, touching her in some way, and she went with it out of fear of what could happen otherwise. She knew now it was just another way of continuing the cycle, but she didn’t think anything of it at the time because he wasn’t hitting her, starving her, locking her in a cage, feeding her wolfsbane, or smacking her down with silver. Plus, she was allowed to run through the forest, and see a little town with other teenagers. All pretty carrots leading to a trap. Did she blame the Alpha? Perhaps she did. But at the end of the day, she had always feared Ric would’ve come for her no matter who was supposed to be protecting her. He had branded her as his, and the loss of his toy had infuriated the man. He planned it carefully, letting Evangeline be lulled into a near sense of security before he launched his kidnapping plan. Although tough to execute, at the end, Evangeline was back in his control, and the entire cycle began anew.
She was, as she knew she was going to be, brutally raped and beaten all over again, this time worse as she was being punished for ever leaving, Ric’s voice constantly telling her that he was the only way she would make it through the day alive, and this type of punishment was what happened to ‘ungrateful little girls.’ She was kept sedated by the forced ingestion of that poison while the nightmares became reality all over again. She was locked back up in her cage, this time with nothing in it as she was allowed nothing. She was given a covering to serve, but she slept in the dirt after that, often visited and used by one member or another. For a while, she thought of the Alpha. She tried to call for him, reach him somehow through the bond he always kept going on about, but...she felt nothing in return. Had it ever really been there? She kept the hope for her own sanity for the first months that someone from that pack that was supposed to have accepted her would come for her, but as her life fell back into the cycle it had always been, that time away slipped away, and she felt it all break away, left feeling like it was nothing more than a dream she could visit once in a while. It wasn’t the greatest, but it was certainly better than her actual reality. This, though, was when she did begin to blame him.
Over time, along with being broken down piece by piece, she was also so bitter. Every night, when they were done with her, she laid in her cage, shivering and bleeding, starving and sick, hating everything. A deep deep seed had been planted in her, and she decided, after another at least year, that she had had enough. That particular night, once one of Ric’s little cronies had finished with her, she lay quietly listening as he put his pants back on. As he left, whistling about what he’d done, Evangeline’s blurry eyes caught sight of something that made her blink a few times. All she saw was a small shiny thing at first. Blinking pushed the tear down her face, but it cleared her vision enough to see. When the footsteps faded, and it was quiet again, her head slowly lifted. Groaning lightly, she pulled herself towards the cage bars, and used them to pull her body to a sitting position. She leaned against the cool bars, and after gathering her strength, what was left of it, she reached through the bars. She could barely reach it, and it hurt like hell when she stretched those muscles, but she was so used to fighting through pain that she didn’t think about it as she pulled the small sack towards her.
She panted quietly, shaking lightly as she considered what she was about to do. When she flipped it open, she shivered. Wolfsbane. A lot of it, some loose to eat and a few needles filled. More than enough to kill her. She listened to the area around her, her eyes moving down to the track marks already in her arm from being injected. Seeing them, and looking further down at the way her body looked made her eyes closed. When they opened, she was calm and ready. Calmly, too calmly, she laid the case on her legs, and picked up one of the four needles. She had watched them ready it more than enough times that she followed the same procedure. She knew she would need more than one, as one would only make her sick and sleepy, but that she would have to do this quickly as this was going to burn like unholy hell. On that thought, she quickly prepared the second as well, and just in case, the third before she picked up the first again. She wasn’t sure how much it would take, but she was prepared for whatever came next. She drew one deep breath, but then she slid the needle into her skin and pressed.
Everything inside of her skin, her body, her organs screamed and her brain begged her to both stop and keep going. End it. She couldn’t continue to live like this. This wasn’t a life. This was nothing but torture. Her mouth opened in that same breathless scream, but she knew what would happen if they caught her, so she put a choke chain on her own voice for the moment. When the first needle was empty of the pure poison, she dropped it, and quickly picked up the second. The fever was already setting in, and her muscles burned, making her hand shake as her body broke into a sweat trying to fight it as it had been programmed to do. But just as she was raising the second needle to her skin, fighting to hold on through the need to just sleep, she heard something so loud and so out of place that it made her pause. In a moment of delirium, she wondered if she was imagining it. But no, something was happening upstairs. Something was definitely happening upstairs.
Eevee sat there, listening with all her might through the increasing dizziness, the increasing need to lay down and fall asleep. She kept the needle tight in her hand though, because like hell she was going to be beaten or raped one more time. Soon, she heard screaming, which was most curious. Golden Crest members didn’t scream. A door soon slammed open, which made Eevee jump, trying to back away from whatever it was. The scent of blood followed quickly as those blurry brown eyes dared to look up. She gasped sharply in fear when she saw Ric’s eyes, thinking she was about to be found out, but they looked different and he wasn’t talking. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t moving at all, and in fact, wasnt....attached, or barely anyways.
Definitely thinking she was having some kind of fever dream, as the bane was running through her system, and she was wasting time to inject the second needle, she blinked heavily as she struggled to lift her head higher to see the tall, muscular, covered in blood man standing there, holding the head. Her eyes struggled to see straight, but she made out a couple of features, the most obvious being the stark white hair and the piercing blue eyes. Similar to Briar in many ways, except a much different color. Was he a friend of hers? Yet even in that moment, he was nothing short of an Angel, until proven otherwise. To her, in her fever-state, for all she knew, he really was her Angel. It wasn’t easy to do through a beaten, starving body that was pumped full of poison, but whatever happened next, she had one thing to say about the head he held. “Thank.....you.” It was all she was able to get out before what she’d done to herself and the abuse to her body overtook her, and made her eyes close, her head dropping to the dirt as her body went limp and her fingers released the needle.
{ Gandrell-Crimson}
{Meph-Deep Sky Blue}
What was a normal life like? Was it waking up in a comfortable bed, being able to clean yourself, maybe have a little breakfast? What would you do then? Perhaps go to school, or to the mall with your friends maybe? See a movie, or go out to a dance. Have dinner with a family that loved you. Go to bed without a worry that you’d be injured that night? Maybe. Eighteen year old Evangeline often wondered what normal teenagers did, because those experiences were nothing but a dream to the young wolf. At least, she hoped she was indeed a wolf. Despite her age, there had been no whispers or changing in her body yet. Little did she know, that was because her body was simply too exhausted and broken to sustain the wolf.
For those eighteen years, Evangeline had been a slave to the Golden Crest pack. Their Alpha, Alpha Sampson, had murdered her father in cold blood when he had accidentally crossed into their land in search of food for his child, and wife. After the quick and brutal murder, the Alpha, upon discovering the man was holding and trying to protect a baby, spared likely the only mercy he had ever had, and took the baby in. However, in the years to come, she would wish he had killed her too. This, though, was not to be. Instead, she was trained as their slave. She was never given a name, except for ‘Dolly’, something she hated. As early as five years old, she was picking up their laundry, and washing the dishes. The first slap came when she was six, and accidentally dropped a slippery plate.
The slaps continued from there. Each one grew harder, or faster. A sucker punch from around a corner, a bottle thrown at her head. Or simply being thrown into the shattered bottles, cutting her young flesh as they screamed. As abuse does, this escalated very quickly, to the point that the pack took every issue they had, real or imaginary, out on Evangeline. This could include anything from a bad day, to some actual issue they’ve decided. The punishments also increased, ranging from a simple backhand or shove while being passed, all the way to a severe beating. She was made to swallow wolfsbane, and hit with whips that had the edges sharpened and dipped in that poison. She was cut with silver, had anything and everything thrown at her. The only thing of value she’d ever had, her baby blanket that had her real name stitched into it, the first and only time she had seen it, had been burned in front of her while she cried over the loss of her name, her last piece of identity. Evangeline. It was beautiful, but it was not the name they referred to her as. When they decided she was dirty, she was thrown outside into the small river and held under until she almost blacked out. She’d always remember the laughter as she fought to stay conscious. She was also shoved down to the basement of the large house, locked away in a tiny, tiny cell each night after her chores, where she was served the smallest of scraps.
That tiny cell contained an old, rickety, very broken and held together with sheer willpower frame, a thin mattress that was more a cover to the wood, and a strip of a moth eaten blanket. The clothes she was allowed to serve in, dirty as they were, were neatly folded in the corner, and she had even managed to score an old lamp out of the trash one day. The lamp still worked, which made the piercing dark easier to deal with at night, and when she managed it, she even gathered a few spare pieces of paper, and upon discovering that the small black rocks could be used like charcoal, taught herself to draw. What she would draw ranged from the violence, to the people, to even the wolves she saw. As it turned out, when the skill was allowed to develop, she had a lot of natural talent at drawing, especially the wolves. Of course, very few knew what they were. What they were wasn’t known to the city of Vegas, or most of it, but the people of the pack itself certainly was. Lavish, luxurious, extremely artisocratic, charming and charismatic, they rules the casinos and controlled the money trade.
None of this was particular interest to Evangeline, who was only to be a slave during the day. At night, she was locked away again to be used as something else entirely. When she was thrown down to her cell one particular evening, she was glad to see that it hadn’t been trashed. It had happened before, and she wasn’t quite sure how many more times the lamp could be broken. It was already holding on by a wire. However, before she had a chance to settle in to do anything, she heard the heavy footsteps of the Alpha’s son, Ric. Fear struck up her spine immediately. She knew that sound, and she knew what it meant. It was the worst when he came down. His father beat, whipped and screamed at her, but this one. This one tortured her. With such sadistic pleasure. She heard the locks of the cage open, and turned to see him standing there.
When she didn’t immediately get on her knees, frozen momentarily by that fear, his hand snapped to her throat, pinning her against the wall so hard that her head bounced off the concrete. He bounced it a second time to ensure she was paying attention, splitting open her temple before he turned her. She knew what was coming when she heard his belt open, and she closed her eyes as she felt her own thin clothes be torn off. He’d done this so many times that she was able to shut it out, even as the pleasured grunts behind her accompanied the feeling of violation.
Because of the number of times this particular savagery had been done, she no longer screamed when it happened. She felt the numbness take over, and let her mind go blank so it would be over. This....quickly infuriated Ric. A third time her head hit the wall, producing a small grunt from her. “Scream, you little bitch. I want you to feel it.” Unsatisfied still, her abuser removed himself before he threw her to the ground. She felt his steel toed boots meet her stomach, a feeling that made her gasp. Wanting more, it seemed, the boots kept raining down upon her. First, she felt her rib crack, which definitely made tears form, before they released as he ensured it was broken. Next, the boots came for her face, until a sickening snap signalled the breaking of her jaw. It wasn’t until she begged him to stop, thickly through a mouth that was pouring blood, that he turned her over to continue his violation of her. By then, however, it was too much, all too much, and all she could see was red and black, and then nothing.
One Month Later
After barely two weeks of hellish recovery, all the time she was allowed, Eevee was thrown back into the chores. She had surgery to fix her jaw, and had healed enough to be able to move once more, though it was extremely delicate, but the battering to her body remained, and the punishments made sure it stayed there. It made it impossible to move without aching, or swallow without feeling like it was glass. All she knew was the minute she had woken up and been cleared to stand, she had been sent back to work. She was given a little more food this week to keep her from totally dying, and because she was expected to be able to serve. She knew that another pack was coming, and that she was to hide her face while serving. She hadn’t been allowed to bathe since the hospital, a punishment of the surgery cost and the time away, but did what she could to hide the bruises with scarves and a twist of her increasingly dirty hair.
She had served both packs, and that night, met an Alpha that she thought would be both her saviour and her mate. Although he did manage to take her from the pack house, her peace was not to last. For quite a few months, though, it seemed as if it would, and physically, she did recover. Her body healed, and she was even making contact with the wolf within. Because she didn’t see the patterns at first, she thought everything would be okay. She would also admit she learned a lot in that time, both about herself and the outside world, or at least a piece of it, and she did even make friends, or so she had thought. But the Alpha was always a little too pushy, a little too possessive, and beyond that, arrogant. Arrogant to the point that he refused to listen to Evangeline’s concerns about the Golden Crest, about Ric and their Alpha.
Although there was a lot of time Evangeline just needed to be alone, the Alpha was always right there, running his fingers through her hair, pulling her into him, touching her in some way, and she went with it out of fear of what could happen otherwise. She knew now it was just another way of continuing the cycle, but she didn’t think anything of it at the time because he wasn’t hitting her, starving her, locking her in a cage, feeding her wolfsbane, or smacking her down with silver. Plus, she was allowed to run through the forest, and see a little town with other teenagers. All pretty carrots leading to a trap. Did she blame the Alpha? Perhaps she did. But at the end of the day, she had always feared Ric would’ve come for her no matter who was supposed to be protecting her. He had branded her as his, and the loss of his toy had infuriated the man. He planned it carefully, letting Evangeline be lulled into a near sense of security before he launched his kidnapping plan. Although tough to execute, at the end, Evangeline was back in his control, and the entire cycle began anew.
She was, as she knew she was going to be, brutally raped and beaten all over again, this time worse as she was being punished for ever leaving, Ric’s voice constantly telling her that he was the only way she would make it through the day alive, and this type of punishment was what happened to ‘ungrateful little girls.’ She was kept sedated by the forced ingestion of that poison while the nightmares became reality all over again. She was locked back up in her cage, this time with nothing in it as she was allowed nothing. She was given a covering to serve, but she slept in the dirt after that, often visited and used by one member or another. For a while, she thought of the Alpha. She tried to call for him, reach him somehow through the bond he always kept going on about, but...she felt nothing in return. Had it ever really been there? She kept the hope for her own sanity for the first months that someone from that pack that was supposed to have accepted her would come for her, but as her life fell back into the cycle it had always been, that time away slipped away, and she felt it all break away, left feeling like it was nothing more than a dream she could visit once in a while. It wasn’t the greatest, but it was certainly better than her actual reality. This, though, was when she did begin to blame him.
Over time, along with being broken down piece by piece, she was also so bitter. Every night, when they were done with her, she laid in her cage, shivering and bleeding, starving and sick, hating everything. A deep deep seed had been planted in her, and she decided, after another at least year, that she had had enough. That particular night, once one of Ric’s little cronies had finished with her, she lay quietly listening as he put his pants back on. As he left, whistling about what he’d done, Evangeline’s blurry eyes caught sight of something that made her blink a few times. All she saw was a small shiny thing at first. Blinking pushed the tear down her face, but it cleared her vision enough to see. When the footsteps faded, and it was quiet again, her head slowly lifted. Groaning lightly, she pulled herself towards the cage bars, and used them to pull her body to a sitting position. She leaned against the cool bars, and after gathering her strength, what was left of it, she reached through the bars. She could barely reach it, and it hurt like hell when she stretched those muscles, but she was so used to fighting through pain that she didn’t think about it as she pulled the small sack towards her.
She panted quietly, shaking lightly as she considered what she was about to do. When she flipped it open, she shivered. Wolfsbane. A lot of it, some loose to eat and a few needles filled. More than enough to kill her. She listened to the area around her, her eyes moving down to the track marks already in her arm from being injected. Seeing them, and looking further down at the way her body looked made her eyes closed. When they opened, she was calm and ready. Calmly, too calmly, she laid the case on her legs, and picked up one of the four needles. She had watched them ready it more than enough times that she followed the same procedure. She knew she would need more than one, as one would only make her sick and sleepy, but that she would have to do this quickly as this was going to burn like unholy hell. On that thought, she quickly prepared the second as well, and just in case, the third before she picked up the first again. She wasn’t sure how much it would take, but she was prepared for whatever came next. She drew one deep breath, but then she slid the needle into her skin and pressed.
Everything inside of her skin, her body, her organs screamed and her brain begged her to both stop and keep going. End it. She couldn’t continue to live like this. This wasn’t a life. This was nothing but torture. Her mouth opened in that same breathless scream, but she knew what would happen if they caught her, so she put a choke chain on her own voice for the moment. When the first needle was empty of the pure poison, she dropped it, and quickly picked up the second. The fever was already setting in, and her muscles burned, making her hand shake as her body broke into a sweat trying to fight it as it had been programmed to do. But just as she was raising the second needle to her skin, fighting to hold on through the need to just sleep, she heard something so loud and so out of place that it made her pause. In a moment of delirium, she wondered if she was imagining it. But no, something was happening upstairs. Something was definitely happening upstairs.
Eevee sat there, listening with all her might through the increasing dizziness, the increasing need to lay down and fall asleep. She kept the needle tight in her hand though, because like hell she was going to be beaten or raped one more time. Soon, she heard screaming, which was most curious. Golden Crest members didn’t scream. A door soon slammed open, which made Eevee jump, trying to back away from whatever it was. The scent of blood followed quickly as those blurry brown eyes dared to look up. She gasped sharply in fear when she saw Ric’s eyes, thinking she was about to be found out, but they looked different and he wasn’t talking. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t moving at all, and in fact, wasnt....attached, or barely anyways.
Definitely thinking she was having some kind of fever dream, as the bane was running through her system, and she was wasting time to inject the second needle, she blinked heavily as she struggled to lift her head higher to see the tall, muscular, covered in blood man standing there, holding the head. Her eyes struggled to see straight, but she made out a couple of features, the most obvious being the stark white hair and the piercing blue eyes. Similar to Briar in many ways, except a much different color. Was he a friend of hers? Yet even in that moment, he was nothing short of an Angel, until proven otherwise. To her, in her fever-state, for all she knew, he really was her Angel. It wasn’t easy to do through a beaten, starving body that was pumped full of poison, but whatever happened next, she had one thing to say about the head he held. “Thank.....you.” It was all she was able to get out before what she’d done to herself and the abuse to her body overtook her, and made her eyes close, her head dropping to the dirt as her body went limp and her fingers released the needle.
Why do vampire’s do what they do? That should be the age-old question, not all that flim-flam about with age comes wisdom. Bullshit! With old age comes forgetfulness and diapers, a decent from functioning adulthood back to that of an infant, at least for humans, that is. For a vampire, the tables are completely turned. Eternally youthful, meaning painfully trapped emotionally at the age of their transformation. For our hero, he was changed at twenty-one years of age, meaning he was brilliantly intelligent, yet perpetually stuck in the mindset of a young adult. He was ruled by his emotions even when he knew better. And, like all children coming into their own, they know better than all those who came before them, right?
Gandrell had been made a vampire in 1789 when he had been an actor on the candlelit stages of the Paris Opera houses. He could sing, dance, and was a genius on the violin. His genius captured the attention of the wrong kind of woman. He was wooed, lured away, and changed forever. But try and keep this hotheaded cad down. Gandrell, alone in the new life, had to figure things out for himself. He floundered. Made thousands of the stupidest mistakes possible. But, ended up exactly where he wanted to be…on top. The way the vampire’s mind works is very close to how a person with Aspergers does. They fixate. They research. They follow. They study. They stalk. They unhealthily desire. And, if the target of their obsession is still alive, they covet until they consume. Luckily for living beings, Gandrell was a collector of knowledge and experience. It wouldn’t be for several hundred of years that he fixates on the living. For now, knowledge and the learning of the histories.
Gandrell wanted to collect all the secrets of the universe and he sought them out with the oldest he could find of his kind. He would use his charms and youthful seductions to entice even the wisest of the vampires. Once he had their blood, talents, powers, and their secrets, he would vanish into the night only to pop up a month or two later with another ancient. He managed to achieve his goals and was considered one of the strongest immortals to date – somewhere in the neighborhood of the strength of a five thousand year old vampire, and barely fifty mortal years in life. This, however, brought him difficulties and hardships. Elders in the vampire community felt he had too much power for one so young and there was no way he was capable of respecting the gifts he had. How wrong they were.
But punishment came swiftly upon the youthful vampire who found himself buried under a castle for seventy-five years. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to be buried in stone? But out hero eventually emerged older, wiser, and hungry enough to eat his own. He was quick to slaughter the elders who had punished him, earning him the title of the crowned prince of all vampires. A title he dismissed and refused to touch. He knows his own mind so completely that if he were to take up the crown and rule, he would alter the vampire way of life way too much to be accepted by the masses. Instead of ruling over all the vampires in the world, he is content with ruling over the small kingdoms he creates for himself.
His first and favorite kingdom is in New Orleans, Louisiana. The French settled New Orleans in 1718 so he was a bit late to the party, but he carved his nook all the same. Lavish parties. Parton of the arts. Wealthy boy with way too much freedom. Oh, how popular he was. He dominated New York next. He wasn’t the biggest fan of New York but the real estate was a phenomenal investment. He owned a dozen city blocks in Manhattan and benefited with how often that city reinvented itself. He refused to live anywhere in the actual city. It was brilliant when he wanted to hunt, but live, no. He had purchased land in the Hamptons right on the beach and had a majestic mansion built in his style, French Victorian. He had the mansion completely gutted and updated every decade or so as his tastes changed. He was content bouncing between New Orleans and New York. That is until there was this new buzz in the air about a desert town in the West.
Losing no time, Gandrell was there on May 15, 1905, when one-hundred and ten acres of land situated between Stewart Avenue on the north, Garces Avenue to the south, Main Street to the west, and Fifth Street (Las Vegas Boulevard) to the east, were auctioning off by the railroad company as a settlement as a stop on the new railroad line that linked Los Angela and Salt Lake City, which became Las Vegas, Nevada. He was a silent partner on the very first casino that opened on, what would become, the strip in 1906 called The Golden Gate Hotel & Casino. The city started slow, as most of these towns do. It took a while for people to show an interest. And then the 1930s happened and the Golden Age of Las Vegas began. More and more hotels and casinos were being built, and the city began to establish itself as a destination for entertainment and gambling and Gandrell was at the center of it all. He was one of the very first to shake Frank Sinatra’s hand, which became a big deal in Vegas once the legend passed on.
Now Gandrell bounced around between New Orleans, New York and Las Vegas for his fun and financial success. He gave seed money to some of the most successful artists, musicians, writers, architects, and anyone else who came to him with a golden idea that intrigued him. It was in the 1930s that Gandrell’s interests shifted to humans, and he decided that with his help a very few select mundane humans could become superstars. He was picky, liking the diamonds in the rough best. Why should he waste his talents on someone with means to grab the star themselves if only they weren’t so lazy? No. He wanted to one who always seemed to struggle no matter how incredibly talented they were. It made him feel even more accomplished when he took a street rat and watched them rise to the top with only opportunity and encouragement from him. These little pet projects prepared him for one of the greatest tasks he would ever face.
In 1935 he had raided a werewolf pack in a town right outside of New Orleans who he found to have some shady dealings in his city. Here comes the Aspergers. He dived into researching the pack. Who were they? Where did they come from? How did they make their money? What secrets were they hiding? He uncovered it all. Seems hey had caught themselves a boy when he was nine and raised him to be a relentless killer. They found him in any and every underground fight they could find. Here was his next diamond. Gandrell raided the wolves, only having a kill a few before the others scattered. He sent them all letters later informing them just how easily he could find them and threatening them that if they returned to Louisiana, they would die. He took the…well, he wasn’t a boy anymore. Nineteen years old but built like a Viking. He made Gandrell, who stood at a solid six feet, look up to him. Battered, bruised, tormented, and emotionally underdeveloped, Gandrell took the man and started him on the road to recovery. It took three years to get him sleep outside of a cage. Another five years after that to get him to start talking. And another ten years to get him functioning in the simplest of social situations. Mephistopheles, Meph, was his name, and he was Gandrell’s favorite project, son, and best friend.
With Meph now able to care for himself enough to allow Gandrell to really get out there and travel again, he spent the next three years partying it up all over the world. Just at the three year mark, Gandrell returned to Las Vegas to find his businesses flourishing beautifully. But when he learned that werewolves had started infiltrating the casinos Gandrell became uneasy. He first learned of the Valley of Fire Pack and quickly became friends with the Alpha, Dean Patrick. They got along like brothers almost immediately and Gandrell spent the next year cultivating the business and ensuring they were successful. The other pack her learned about was the Golden Crest Pack. Again, a tightness formed in his stomach as he dove into the research. There were obvious signs of twisted dealings, glad-handing, and threats.
The infuriated vampire called a meeting with the Alpha of the group, a guy named Sampson, who invited Gandrell to their pack house to talk business. Even though Gandrell conducted himself on the phone with the upmost friendly attitude and made himself seem like he had some killer business ventures for them to consider. Even with his flawless performance when he arrived at the pack house the energy was anything but friendly. It seemed this pack liked to use intimidation tactics rather than negotiating. Gandrell was shown into a long table dinning table. The Alpha at the head and four others. Of course, Gandrell was already familiar with the other four. Hostility filled the air as Gandrell took the seat he was indicated to. It seemed Sampson thought he would be delegating this meeting. Gandrell sat calmly and listened to the man tell Gandrell that Las Vegas was no longer ’his town’ and that the wolves were taking over. How there was no room for a vamp any longer. Gandrell’s expression never changed during the entire speech, well…almost. When he was addressed by the Beta, Ric, with the threat of someone ‘accidentally’ pulling the shades in his room to fill the room with sunlight, that was when Gandrell broke.
He laughed. Laughed so hard he had to place on hand on his belly, lean forward, and smack his hand on the table. Maybe it was the seriousness of the Beta or that they thought the sun would actually hurt him, not sure…but he laughed. Laughed to the point that all five were brisling with fury. The first to approach Gandrell as he cackled, seemingly to not be paying attention, lost his heart in less time than it would take a hummingbird to flutter its wings. The heart was tossed into the middle of the table as the man next to the vampire fell to his knees and then to the ground dead. “Ooopsy!” As the other two wolves started to converge on him, he put his hands up, one hand so coated in blood you couldn’t see the skin, “Reflexes, my friends. Just reflexes.” But those ‘reflexes’ were used again as the first male who lunged ended up with their face indented that every bone was broken, and the nose had been shoved into the brain, killing him instantly. The third, wasn’t so lucky. Gandrell, moving almost too fast to be seem, severed both femoral arteries on the inside of the thighs and both brachial arteries on the inside of the biceps. This man would be able to count to about thirty before he had lost more blood than his body could survive with. Now just left Father and son. Jumping up onto the table and running faster than a bullet, Gandrell stopped in front of Sampson and looked the man in the eyes before Gandrell gouged them both out of his head. He then smashed the Alpha’s head into the table until it was nothing but a blood mess and fleshy chunks. Gandrell’s piercing blue eyes turned lastly on the son, Ric. Cooly Gandrell stood and hopped off the table to stand before the cruel child. He reached out and stroked Ric’s cheek with his bloodied hands. Ric shook, obviously in shock at what had just happened in the last few minutes. “No way to run, my sadistic friend. “ The look on Ric’s face was priceless. With a smirk, Gandrell said boastfully, “I know all about you, Ric. I know how your favorite game is torture and fear. Yet, you seem to only pick on those you feel superior to. Do you still feel superior over me?” Gandrell gripped Ric’s hair in one of his fists and pushed him down to the floor on his knees. In a snap, the vampire was behind the Beta and, twisting the hair tight in his fist, his other pale hand positioning itself under his chin, he yanked up in one smooth motion that separated the head from the next and brought the spine along with it. Gandrell whooped in excitement never having dreamed that would actually work!
He calculated Ric had about five minutes before the brain would be too deprived of oxygen and blood to function. Which meant, Gandrell had five minutes of Ric watching him destroy everything he could. Pack member after member fell before the vampire as throats were slit with his razor-sharp finger nails, hearts were ripped out and left on the ground, head were ripped off, anything quick and dirty. With one minute to spare Gandrell found the stairs that led down and into the darkness where Ric kept his toys. The wolf that had been trying to escape the room after, it seemed, he violated a young girl, had his dick ripped off and shoved in his own mouth. Gandrell’s blue eyes settled on the damaged girl, allowing her to see her tormentor’s head separate from his body. The head and spine was dropped on the floor as Gandrell playfully decided to dance a Mexican style dance with lots of flourishes of the arms and stomping of the feet. Each stomp turned what was left a Ric into a pile of goo.
When Gandrell finished his mocking dance he turned to the girl who had passed out. He sighed, guessing the dance was not needed after all. He pulled the door free of the hinges and tossed the heavy door at the man who had chocked to death on his own dick as he bled out. Gandrell knelt over the girl and placed a bloody hand on her head. He then took one of her hands and lifted it to his lips. He pricked her finger and licked the one drop of blood away. He took her hand in his as he whispered, “Another diamond.” He moved her so he could do a quick evaluation of her. She was weak, dying, but not lost. He used his thumb nail and made a deep laceration in his forearm allowing his blood to flow into his palm where he made a cup to catch the lifegiving liquid. He lifted the girl with his free arm and fed her the blood slowly. It wouldn’t be enough to affect in any long-term way. But it would heal her faster than her wolf could. He listened once the ounce of blood was in her system. When her heartbeat got stronger, he knew he had her. He lifted her in his arms and darted out of the pack house and into the desert. He then took to the air and arrived with her in a hotel room just minutes later.
The room had been set up like a makeshift hospital room. He had a feeling he would end up with a new project. He removed her clothing and did a more thorough examination on her. He started an IV to get her hydrated in her left arm. He then injected several doses of morphine. His blood would kill any infection that existed within her body as it coursed through her, healing the internal organs and stopping the brain bleed. During his examination he discovered her genitalia was horrible damaged to the point that it no longer looked like a functioning vagina. He pushed one of his fingers into her vaginal canal and made several small cuts in the tissue. He then gashed open his finger and saturated the tissue with his blood. About an hour, and two more doses of morphine, later she was looking good. The bruises were gone, her pubic region looked like a virgin’s, her color was better, and her organs were operating normally, no more blood in the urine.
He started another IV line and this time started giving her vitamins and nutrients that her body desperately needed. He worked around the clock for four days and nights to get her body back to a healthy place. He then started a feeding tube so he could get more food to her starving body. He used a blender to mix fruits, veggies, protein powder, and more vitamins into shakes that he was able to feed slowly into her stomach. He would give her one cup every fifteen minutes and her body couldn’t get enough. It would be a while before she could actually take food by mouth, but her body was coming back to life under his hands. It was thriving on the liquid vitamins and the blends he was giving her. On the morning of the fifth day Gandrell decided it was time for his diamond to awake. He removed the feeding tube and healed it all with his blood. He then removed the IVs and dressed her in one of his long-sleeved white dress shirts. Now he just sat back and let the morphine wear off her. He estimated that in about thirty minutes she would be awake.
If she woke, she would see a youthful, pale, though handsome fellow sitting comfortably in a straight-backed hotel chair with a look of confidence in his eyes. He had been mistaken for an angel more times than he could count but it kept people from the initial panic of seeing a vampire. In a rich, warm, voice he said, “Welcome back, Evangeline.”
Gandrell had been made a vampire in 1789 when he had been an actor on the candlelit stages of the Paris Opera houses. He could sing, dance, and was a genius on the violin. His genius captured the attention of the wrong kind of woman. He was wooed, lured away, and changed forever. But try and keep this hotheaded cad down. Gandrell, alone in the new life, had to figure things out for himself. He floundered. Made thousands of the stupidest mistakes possible. But, ended up exactly where he wanted to be…on top. The way the vampire’s mind works is very close to how a person with Aspergers does. They fixate. They research. They follow. They study. They stalk. They unhealthily desire. And, if the target of their obsession is still alive, they covet until they consume. Luckily for living beings, Gandrell was a collector of knowledge and experience. It wouldn’t be for several hundred of years that he fixates on the living. For now, knowledge and the learning of the histories.
Gandrell wanted to collect all the secrets of the universe and he sought them out with the oldest he could find of his kind. He would use his charms and youthful seductions to entice even the wisest of the vampires. Once he had their blood, talents, powers, and their secrets, he would vanish into the night only to pop up a month or two later with another ancient. He managed to achieve his goals and was considered one of the strongest immortals to date – somewhere in the neighborhood of the strength of a five thousand year old vampire, and barely fifty mortal years in life. This, however, brought him difficulties and hardships. Elders in the vampire community felt he had too much power for one so young and there was no way he was capable of respecting the gifts he had. How wrong they were.
But punishment came swiftly upon the youthful vampire who found himself buried under a castle for seventy-five years. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to be buried in stone? But out hero eventually emerged older, wiser, and hungry enough to eat his own. He was quick to slaughter the elders who had punished him, earning him the title of the crowned prince of all vampires. A title he dismissed and refused to touch. He knows his own mind so completely that if he were to take up the crown and rule, he would alter the vampire way of life way too much to be accepted by the masses. Instead of ruling over all the vampires in the world, he is content with ruling over the small kingdoms he creates for himself.
His first and favorite kingdom is in New Orleans, Louisiana. The French settled New Orleans in 1718 so he was a bit late to the party, but he carved his nook all the same. Lavish parties. Parton of the arts. Wealthy boy with way too much freedom. Oh, how popular he was. He dominated New York next. He wasn’t the biggest fan of New York but the real estate was a phenomenal investment. He owned a dozen city blocks in Manhattan and benefited with how often that city reinvented itself. He refused to live anywhere in the actual city. It was brilliant when he wanted to hunt, but live, no. He had purchased land in the Hamptons right on the beach and had a majestic mansion built in his style, French Victorian. He had the mansion completely gutted and updated every decade or so as his tastes changed. He was content bouncing between New Orleans and New York. That is until there was this new buzz in the air about a desert town in the West.
Losing no time, Gandrell was there on May 15, 1905, when one-hundred and ten acres of land situated between Stewart Avenue on the north, Garces Avenue to the south, Main Street to the west, and Fifth Street (Las Vegas Boulevard) to the east, were auctioning off by the railroad company as a settlement as a stop on the new railroad line that linked Los Angela and Salt Lake City, which became Las Vegas, Nevada. He was a silent partner on the very first casino that opened on, what would become, the strip in 1906 called The Golden Gate Hotel & Casino. The city started slow, as most of these towns do. It took a while for people to show an interest. And then the 1930s happened and the Golden Age of Las Vegas began. More and more hotels and casinos were being built, and the city began to establish itself as a destination for entertainment and gambling and Gandrell was at the center of it all. He was one of the very first to shake Frank Sinatra’s hand, which became a big deal in Vegas once the legend passed on.
Now Gandrell bounced around between New Orleans, New York and Las Vegas for his fun and financial success. He gave seed money to some of the most successful artists, musicians, writers, architects, and anyone else who came to him with a golden idea that intrigued him. It was in the 1930s that Gandrell’s interests shifted to humans, and he decided that with his help a very few select mundane humans could become superstars. He was picky, liking the diamonds in the rough best. Why should he waste his talents on someone with means to grab the star themselves if only they weren’t so lazy? No. He wanted to one who always seemed to struggle no matter how incredibly talented they were. It made him feel even more accomplished when he took a street rat and watched them rise to the top with only opportunity and encouragement from him. These little pet projects prepared him for one of the greatest tasks he would ever face.
In 1935 he had raided a werewolf pack in a town right outside of New Orleans who he found to have some shady dealings in his city. Here comes the Aspergers. He dived into researching the pack. Who were they? Where did they come from? How did they make their money? What secrets were they hiding? He uncovered it all. Seems hey had caught themselves a boy when he was nine and raised him to be a relentless killer. They found him in any and every underground fight they could find. Here was his next diamond. Gandrell raided the wolves, only having a kill a few before the others scattered. He sent them all letters later informing them just how easily he could find them and threatening them that if they returned to Louisiana, they would die. He took the…well, he wasn’t a boy anymore. Nineteen years old but built like a Viking. He made Gandrell, who stood at a solid six feet, look up to him. Battered, bruised, tormented, and emotionally underdeveloped, Gandrell took the man and started him on the road to recovery. It took three years to get him sleep outside of a cage. Another five years after that to get him to start talking. And another ten years to get him functioning in the simplest of social situations. Mephistopheles, Meph, was his name, and he was Gandrell’s favorite project, son, and best friend.
With Meph now able to care for himself enough to allow Gandrell to really get out there and travel again, he spent the next three years partying it up all over the world. Just at the three year mark, Gandrell returned to Las Vegas to find his businesses flourishing beautifully. But when he learned that werewolves had started infiltrating the casinos Gandrell became uneasy. He first learned of the Valley of Fire Pack and quickly became friends with the Alpha, Dean Patrick. They got along like brothers almost immediately and Gandrell spent the next year cultivating the business and ensuring they were successful. The other pack her learned about was the Golden Crest Pack. Again, a tightness formed in his stomach as he dove into the research. There were obvious signs of twisted dealings, glad-handing, and threats.
The infuriated vampire called a meeting with the Alpha of the group, a guy named Sampson, who invited Gandrell to their pack house to talk business. Even though Gandrell conducted himself on the phone with the upmost friendly attitude and made himself seem like he had some killer business ventures for them to consider. Even with his flawless performance when he arrived at the pack house the energy was anything but friendly. It seemed this pack liked to use intimidation tactics rather than negotiating. Gandrell was shown into a long table dinning table. The Alpha at the head and four others. Of course, Gandrell was already familiar with the other four. Hostility filled the air as Gandrell took the seat he was indicated to. It seemed Sampson thought he would be delegating this meeting. Gandrell sat calmly and listened to the man tell Gandrell that Las Vegas was no longer ’his town’ and that the wolves were taking over. How there was no room for a vamp any longer. Gandrell’s expression never changed during the entire speech, well…almost. When he was addressed by the Beta, Ric, with the threat of someone ‘accidentally’ pulling the shades in his room to fill the room with sunlight, that was when Gandrell broke.
He laughed. Laughed so hard he had to place on hand on his belly, lean forward, and smack his hand on the table. Maybe it was the seriousness of the Beta or that they thought the sun would actually hurt him, not sure…but he laughed. Laughed to the point that all five were brisling with fury. The first to approach Gandrell as he cackled, seemingly to not be paying attention, lost his heart in less time than it would take a hummingbird to flutter its wings. The heart was tossed into the middle of the table as the man next to the vampire fell to his knees and then to the ground dead. “Ooopsy!” As the other two wolves started to converge on him, he put his hands up, one hand so coated in blood you couldn’t see the skin, “Reflexes, my friends. Just reflexes.” But those ‘reflexes’ were used again as the first male who lunged ended up with their face indented that every bone was broken, and the nose had been shoved into the brain, killing him instantly. The third, wasn’t so lucky. Gandrell, moving almost too fast to be seem, severed both femoral arteries on the inside of the thighs and both brachial arteries on the inside of the biceps. This man would be able to count to about thirty before he had lost more blood than his body could survive with. Now just left Father and son. Jumping up onto the table and running faster than a bullet, Gandrell stopped in front of Sampson and looked the man in the eyes before Gandrell gouged them both out of his head. He then smashed the Alpha’s head into the table until it was nothing but a blood mess and fleshy chunks. Gandrell’s piercing blue eyes turned lastly on the son, Ric. Cooly Gandrell stood and hopped off the table to stand before the cruel child. He reached out and stroked Ric’s cheek with his bloodied hands. Ric shook, obviously in shock at what had just happened in the last few minutes. “No way to run, my sadistic friend. “ The look on Ric’s face was priceless. With a smirk, Gandrell said boastfully, “I know all about you, Ric. I know how your favorite game is torture and fear. Yet, you seem to only pick on those you feel superior to. Do you still feel superior over me?” Gandrell gripped Ric’s hair in one of his fists and pushed him down to the floor on his knees. In a snap, the vampire was behind the Beta and, twisting the hair tight in his fist, his other pale hand positioning itself under his chin, he yanked up in one smooth motion that separated the head from the next and brought the spine along with it. Gandrell whooped in excitement never having dreamed that would actually work!
He calculated Ric had about five minutes before the brain would be too deprived of oxygen and blood to function. Which meant, Gandrell had five minutes of Ric watching him destroy everything he could. Pack member after member fell before the vampire as throats were slit with his razor-sharp finger nails, hearts were ripped out and left on the ground, head were ripped off, anything quick and dirty. With one minute to spare Gandrell found the stairs that led down and into the darkness where Ric kept his toys. The wolf that had been trying to escape the room after, it seemed, he violated a young girl, had his dick ripped off and shoved in his own mouth. Gandrell’s blue eyes settled on the damaged girl, allowing her to see her tormentor’s head separate from his body. The head and spine was dropped on the floor as Gandrell playfully decided to dance a Mexican style dance with lots of flourishes of the arms and stomping of the feet. Each stomp turned what was left a Ric into a pile of goo.
When Gandrell finished his mocking dance he turned to the girl who had passed out. He sighed, guessing the dance was not needed after all. He pulled the door free of the hinges and tossed the heavy door at the man who had chocked to death on his own dick as he bled out. Gandrell knelt over the girl and placed a bloody hand on her head. He then took one of her hands and lifted it to his lips. He pricked her finger and licked the one drop of blood away. He took her hand in his as he whispered, “Another diamond.” He moved her so he could do a quick evaluation of her. She was weak, dying, but not lost. He used his thumb nail and made a deep laceration in his forearm allowing his blood to flow into his palm where he made a cup to catch the lifegiving liquid. He lifted the girl with his free arm and fed her the blood slowly. It wouldn’t be enough to affect in any long-term way. But it would heal her faster than her wolf could. He listened once the ounce of blood was in her system. When her heartbeat got stronger, he knew he had her. He lifted her in his arms and darted out of the pack house and into the desert. He then took to the air and arrived with her in a hotel room just minutes later.
The room had been set up like a makeshift hospital room. He had a feeling he would end up with a new project. He removed her clothing and did a more thorough examination on her. He started an IV to get her hydrated in her left arm. He then injected several doses of morphine. His blood would kill any infection that existed within her body as it coursed through her, healing the internal organs and stopping the brain bleed. During his examination he discovered her genitalia was horrible damaged to the point that it no longer looked like a functioning vagina. He pushed one of his fingers into her vaginal canal and made several small cuts in the tissue. He then gashed open his finger and saturated the tissue with his blood. About an hour, and two more doses of morphine, later she was looking good. The bruises were gone, her pubic region looked like a virgin’s, her color was better, and her organs were operating normally, no more blood in the urine.
He started another IV line and this time started giving her vitamins and nutrients that her body desperately needed. He worked around the clock for four days and nights to get her body back to a healthy place. He then started a feeding tube so he could get more food to her starving body. He used a blender to mix fruits, veggies, protein powder, and more vitamins into shakes that he was able to feed slowly into her stomach. He would give her one cup every fifteen minutes and her body couldn’t get enough. It would be a while before she could actually take food by mouth, but her body was coming back to life under his hands. It was thriving on the liquid vitamins and the blends he was giving her. On the morning of the fifth day Gandrell decided it was time for his diamond to awake. He removed the feeding tube and healed it all with his blood. He then removed the IVs and dressed her in one of his long-sleeved white dress shirts. Now he just sat back and let the morphine wear off her. He estimated that in about thirty minutes she would be awake.
If she woke, she would see a youthful, pale, though handsome fellow sitting comfortably in a straight-backed hotel chair with a look of confidence in his eyes. He had been mistaken for an angel more times than he could count but it kept people from the initial panic of seeing a vampire. In a rich, warm, voice he said, “Welcome back, Evangeline.”
Visions swirled in and out of Eevee’s head. Blood, and violence. Bodies. Ric’s head being literally separated from his body. That was his head, wasn’t it? It had to be, because if Evangeline opened her eyes and he was there, she was likely to die just from the sight. That would mean he had discovered what she was trying to do. However, that wasn’t what it felt like. On the contrary, for once, she felt...light and lifted, and painless. Did that mean she had succeeded? She had no idea how long she was out, or really, what happened to her in that time. As far as she knew, she’d completed her task. Except for this one face. Piercing blue eyes. Stark white hair. She had heard his voice at some point while drifting in and out of consciousness, but what he actually said was lost. It was the sound of it that she found herself holding onto. Something about it held her to the Earth. It felt a little...like hope. It also had to do with the incredible amounts of vampire blood keeping her alive, but she wouldn’t know that for some time yet.
The next time she was truly awake was five days later. She didn’t know it was five days, of course, but when the medicine started wearing off, and her mind and body actually began to wake up, the first thing she noticed was the absence of pain. That was odd, incredibly so, and her mind started doing an internal assessment of herself, unconsciously trying to judge how much more abuse she might be able to take, but the next thing she noticed was how bright and white the room was. That was more concerning than confusing. Everything smelled clean, and lovely. She could even smell air and a flower located somewhere in the room, and she started to become even more confused. Another hospital? Where was she? Her eyes slowly started to open, blinking several times before she actually saw anything start to come into focus, and it was right about then that she heard a voice. The voice said her name, which while she knew, had never heard before and it pulled her head towards him.
Sitting in the chair beside her was the face she’d been seeing. She met that piercing blue with her soft honey brown eyes for just a moment before she fully woke up, but when she did, her eyes cleared from their haze, whiled her body jumped automatically into fear. In an instant, feeling as light as a cloud, she scurried backwards while whimpers moved from between her lips and having no idea where she really was, straight out of the bed. She hit the floor, causing sharp and fresh pain as she landed, a feeling she was familiar with, which in an instant signalled to her that she was not dead, and brought back the reality of what had happened. She scurried backwards until she hit the table beside the bed, a short scream of surprise leaving her at the noise as she then shot forward under the bed. As she huddled under the bed, she heard his voice again, saying; “That’s about what I was expecting.” He didn’t move towards her at all, leaving her huddled under the bed, but she could hear him as he spoke. Keeping his calm tone, he said; “No to the hospital. You’re in a hotel room in Las Vegas. And I’m the one who saved you. And before you ask, yes, I am reading your mind.”
Evangeline heard all of his words, and attempted to process them. Saved her? From the house? Was Ric really dead? With a smile in his voice, he proclaimed, “They’re all dead. Except the five that I spared. Ric, the alpha and all of his little cronies are dead.” Her heartbeat increased as the news of their demise and it not being a dream was probably more amazing than anything else that could’ve happened in the past....ever. With all of those questions answered, there was only one more question that she needed answered. The only other question she had was what does she call him. Before she even completed the thought, the answer was given. “You may call me Gandrell.”
Gandrell? That name even sounded angelic, and it was curious enough that from underneath the bed, her eyes were visible just peeking up at the bed for a moment. She watched him adjust in the chair, putting both of his feet on the floor, laying both elbows on his knees to lean forward and look at her. “Now you need to answer a question for me. Would you rather go to a completely safe underground facility in New Orleans, or an open aired mansion in New York?” On the word underground, Eevee gave a soft whimper and slid her head back under the bed, which was Gandrell’s answer. New York was decided, but to Eevee’s amazement, he did not attempt to pull her from the bed as she had been expecting. Instead he left her right there to hide until she was ready to emerge. In that time, although Eevee was no longer paying attention as she reeled from the information that Ric and the pack was indeed gone, she did hear Gandrell use the telephone three different times, and although her earring could’ve picked up the details, her mind was still too full of this new information to really understand what was happening.
Three Months In
Upon arriving in New York by way of Eevee choosing sedation, as there was worry she’d be sick in the air, Eevee woke up in an amazingly beautiful room. That she never left. The closed door was too scary, because although this room and her bathroom were incredibly amazing, what was the rest of it like? She lost her nerve to find out every time she attempted to approach the door, and always wound up hiding in the darkest corner the room offered. She only ever left this piece to use the bathroom, but since it was connected, her mind never translated that she was actually leaving the room. But when she was done, it was back to her corner where she huddled against any sound from the outside. It was also too difficult to fall asleep in the bed, so she had taken to falling asleep under the safety of the bathroom sink with it’s closed doors. She curled her little body in there, yet somehow, she always woke up back in the bed.
About two weeks in, her nightmares began anew, her mind giving her a semi-peaceful reprieve for a short time, but Ric never failed to torment her even from beyond the grave. At these times, something was always there to keep her calm, but nothing was there if she actually woke. Which she did one night. She came out of sleep fast, too dazed to realize if anyone had been there. She was in the bed again, tangled in the beautifully coloured blankets. She panted and whimpered as her mind struggled to remember, again, where she was. It was the scents in the room that signalled it. She was still in her room. There was a candle burning to penetrate the darkness, and it had become a comfort to see when she woke. For a little while, she watched the flame dance, but she found that sleep was too scary. She quietly got out of the bed, and turned on the lamp over the desk. When she did, a pencil just happened to roll down from beside the lamp as if a sign.
She didn’t really think as she picked it up, but there was no paper. She sat with the pencil in her corner for about ten minutes her mind full before her hand was pulled towards the bright white wall. For the next three and a half hours, Evangeline covered the wall in extremely graphic, but very realistic images of both her nightmares, and beautiful images of her current reality. Anything that came to her transferred to the walls, but it was like she was possessed. She couldn’t stop, even moving the desk out of the way to complete the bottom corner of one of the scenes. By the time she was done, more than half of one wall was covered in her nightmares, but on the other, closer to the balcony doors was another wolf, and her saviour.
Meph, the other wolf who lived in the house. She had seen him playing from the balcony, splashing in the water, running around, kicking up sand. She was still absolutely terrified of him, but she couldn’t help but be curious too. And right now, she was drawing anything and everything she had seen, and she didn’t have a choice, it seemed on what was happening. She drew Gandrell the way she had originally seen him, calm but absolutely dangerous, but it wasn’t cast in a light of fear. It wasn’t drawn in fear, but it was there nonetheless. That was where she stopped, her brain finally calmed down enough to let the nightmares pass. Of course, then she realized how much of the walls she’d drawn on, and hid under the bed, where she fell asleep again.
Six Months In
Although she’d been waiting for punishment for drawing all over the walls, this was not what happened. She woke up the next morning, once more back in her bed, but the room was slightly different. It had been covered in art supplies. Canvasses, paints, brushes, pencils, charcoal. She gasped in delight and surprise when she realized it was all for her. She still did not leave her room, running for cover at each noise outside the door, but she made many many beautiful paintings and drawings over the next three months. But at six months, she finally gained the courage to look beyond the door. Once, she’d been awake when Gandrell had brought her her meal, and although she hadn’t spoken, she finally saw what was beyond the door and it made her curious.
It took over two hours of her standing there, losing her nerve over and over again, but on a brave breath, she finally pulled it open. The air and scent of the house hit her all at once, making her freeze in the doorway. But the door was opened. It would take another few weeks before Eevee actually put a toe outside of the door, but the door was at least opened. She even kept it open for at least two minutes minutes until a noise from downstairs made her close it quickly and hide under the bed for an hour. In these months, although she hadn’t figured out how the bathtub worked, not daring to try again since the water burned her fingers, she had at least figured out how to wash herself with a cloth and the water from the sink. It was still hot, but it wasn’t as hot as the water that poured from the bathtub, so she would sit on the edge of the counter and wash herself the best she could. Plus, she always had clean clothes now, which helped her want to be cleaner.
At around eight months, one morning, she woke up in so much pain, and between her legs and her thighs were sticky and wet. She smelt blood, and she was so afraid to pull back the covers. She struggled to remember if anything happened, and hoped this wasn’t the point when it began all over, as it was around the eighth month mark of her last rescue that things had turned, crying as she fought to understand the pain she was in and struggling to stay calm. It wasn’t like normal, but it was so shockingly different. Like something had reach inside and started ripping. Before she fell too too deeply into that train of thought, Gandrell was there, and his deep, rich voice was assuring her that she was okay. She still backed from him, but she did listen to him. It took some coaxing, because she was afraid someone had done something, but he still seemed to be reading her mind, because anything she thought was answered just like before. Nothing had happened to her, and this was a natural process her body had to go through.
She made herself listen to him as he explained, and offered her a choice, because she knew deep within that this was different. She was still crying, but less so as she took his hand, allowing herself to be moved from the bed. Everything hurt, but in a new way. Gandrell was so gentle and sweet as he gently explained to her what was happening, and helped her figure out how to use the bathtub properly, and what she discovered when she finally got in it was the closest thing to Heaven she’d felt yet. The button he told her to push startled her, and she scurried backwards right into a jet in her spine, which caused such pleasure that she gasped a little before leaning into it. There was another jet aimed somewhere else, but she shifted from that one still.
She never spoke a word, yet Gandrell stayed with her the entire time, helping her even after the bath as he explained what to do, and got her settled back into the cleaned bed. Since this was her first period, she wound up sleeping and crying on and off for the rest of the day as her body worked through its natural process, although the rest of the time was an interesting and fairly physically miserable trip, leading to many interesting and scary dreams that, once more, were kept at the surface. One of those times when she woke up, something smelled so delicious. When she looked over, she saw a cake sitting there, and as she scooted towards it, she found herself in shock and laughing out loud at what it said. There was a little note for her to eat it slowly, and she did. But still, she laughed for the first time in years.
The rest of the year was spent simply adjusting. To herself, her surroundings, to struggle with the fact she couldn’t and didn’t accept that she was safe. Even if Ric was dead, what if someone else came, what if someone else decided to steal her. These were the thoughts that consumed the majority of the day, and more often than not, the results of the paintings she did.
Two Years In
It took months for Eevee to get used to the idea, but opening her door for a little bit that day, she had started doing for as long as she could take, ranging between only a few minutes to sometimes, if the house was quiet enough, a full half an hour during the day while she painted. She’d noticed that the projects she had finished kept disappearing at night, and while she figured someone was doing something with them, she couldn’t figure out what. It didn’t so much matter, as it kept the counters cleared of too many projects, but she was curious. Finally, one day, when the house was quiet, Eevee gathered enough courage to step out of the room. It lasted about three seconds before she was back inside with a closed door, and she had at least a ten minute panic attack. A few days later, she tried again, and made it just past the doorframe, lasting about six seconds that time before she was back in her room. The pattern continued throughout the rest of that first year, and by the new year, she had even made it to bathroom door in the hall before she bolted back to the safety of her room.
She only ever did this when she was alone, and she often hid under the bed after it. Under the bed and the bathroom cupboard were safety zones still, and ones she could quite often be found in. Yet even this long after, she still fell asleep there, and woke up in her bed again. She was growing more used to the bed, but falling asleep was still challenging. A lot of things were challenging, which in a lot of ways was frustrating. That frustration often transferred to the canvasses, and it always reverted back to the first portrait she’d done. Her nightmares were still just behind that wall sized canvass, and each week, Eevee made herself sit down and face them until she felt too weak to do so.
Four Years In
As patterns do, Eevee developed one. Four years had passed, and she had spoken no more words than she had on that first day, but she was getting better, and more comfortable. She continued pushing herself further and further outside of her room, although still only when she was alone, and had walked almost the entire upstairs. She still had no idea what was beyond the stairs, as she was not brave enough to venture down there, but she still felt like she was making progress. The nightmares were still frequent, but she had learned coping skills to deal with them. Every time though, a candle was lit when she woke. And every time, she smiled at it. Her period had been coming monthly since that first one, but what there was barely a sign of yet was the wolf. She was worried about it, worried that it had been so beaten it was never coming back.
The full moons came and went, and each one of them, she watched Meph’s wolf go out to play. She wanted that, she wanted that deeply, and she could feel the need to do it. She felt the need to howl, and run and play, but she was worried something was wrong with her. She felt the urges but not the changes. No matter how much she pushed, usually enough to make her pass out with the effort. But forcing it wasn’t working, and it was painful to try and do. She was getting frustrated and worried that it was never coming back, and she wondered every time she saw Meph what was wrong with her.
This lead to the very first verbal interaction with Gandrell she’d had since the day in the cage early into that fourth year. But did that cage really count? She knew by now he would be around with lunch at 12 pm sharp, so instead of losing all her nerve when she though of going downstairs to find him, she instead continued to work for a little bit before she went and sat in the corner of her room where she felt the safest. Exactly when she expected, he came. She almost lost her nerve again, but when he looked away again, she finally found her voice. It was quiet, and nearly cracked from never using it, but it formed the words she meant to say. “Please wait.” Her head almost immediately hid in her knees when she realized she actually spoke aloud instead of thinking it as she normally did to communicate with him. But then her head lifted again, and that tiny voice spoke again. “I’d...like to ask something, if possible.” She took a huge breath, the nerves almost getting her and silencing her before the question came out. “Is it...possible for the wolf to just...be gone from someone?”
Gand paused with his hand ready to close the door behind him as he exited, but her voice gave him pause. He turned to look in the direction the voice had come from and, not to appear menacing, he offered a gentle smile and moved back into the room slowly. As he pondered her question he seated himself in a chair across the room from her. "Your wolf is in there. I can hear her pacing. But she knows you are not healed enough yet so she sleeps until your transformation will be a successful one." Gandrell's tone held such confidence and understanding it was hard not to believe him. "Courage of the heart is very rare. You have that in you. Your wolf has that in her. Start talking to her, she will help heal your emotions faster than doing it on your own."
Evangeline didn’t verbally reply to this, but she thought about it as Gandrell left the room. Her eyes, before he left, would’ve shown that she was listening and paying attention. For the rest of that fourth year, that’s exactly what she did. Every day, she tried talking to the wolf, but it would take the sleeping wolf quite a while yet to reply. She was shocked when it did finally happen, on her birthday. She was just sitting there, enjoying the little cake she found outside her door each year on this date, when the howl in her head took her by storm. It dropped her because she wasn’t expecting it, but she was beyond relieved to hear it. She hadn’t lost it. They hadn’t killed her. She was still alive, and this was proof of it.
She got so excited that she actually left the room, but she only made it to the daunting staircase before she stopped. Her head started to swirl as she looked down the long stairs, but that ever-present need for safety was stronger than her excitement, and she moved back to her room instead. There she would remain until, as always, she fell asleep under the bathroom sink.
Five & Six Years In
Although she technically knew the other vampire who lived in the house, that beautifully talented musical one, she had not seen her in the entire time she’d been here. But she’d heard her. That voice was soothing in ways she didn’t expect, and when she left that year, Evangeline missed it. The comfort in this came when the violin continued, which was what would eventually come to draw her out of her room. These years were hard. It was harder than expected, as she started questioning and struggling with herself why she couldn’t just go down the stairs. Every day now, she lingered at the top, but every day, she couldn’t take that step. She wanted too. A part of her was ready to look beyond, but too much still screamed no, and always she wound up back in her room.
She had to go through a long period of self reflection, helped along by her wolf inside. A lot of these years, she was crying. She started then to recognize how damaged she truly was. She also started to let herself dig into the memories, letting them play out. She had horrible nightmares that year, more awake than asleep unless that something that kept her asleep was there. Even then, though, it was difficult, and she often spent those nights painting.
Things got better in the seventh year. After seven years, she finally started to relax. At least within the confines of her room. She even started sleeping in the bed once a week, but the other days, she still fell asleep in her normal spots. She was learning to eat more, her wolf was getting more and more active, and she’d even ventured out onto the balcony. She spent only a night or two there, sitting on the warm stone before there was an entire patio set when she woke up. She smiled at this, because she knew now who was doing it. It was a slow, slow process, but she was learning to trust Gandrell. It wasn’t easy to trust anyone, but she was learning that he was genuine and he meant what he said. She really was safe here.
Perhaps it was this, at seven and a half years, that finally let her go down that first step. Then the second. The third didn’t happen for another few weeks, but over the course of the next two years, she began to venture the stairs. Of course, if anyone passed by while she was on them, she would immediately bolt back upstairs, usually falling at the top because she was curse to slip around that corner. And always on the same rib! Thankfully, she’d grown enough muscle and strength with Gand’s care that they didn’t break when this happened. But it still hurt! By the end of that year, she had almost reached the second landing. Only one more to the bottom. This, however, wouldn’t happen for another two years.
Nine Years In
It took nine years before Eevee had made it to the bottom of the stairs. It was in the dead of night, when the house was quiet. She trembled as she stood there, looking around. It was dimly lit, but her eyes could adjust to the dark now. She could see how pretty it was, but it felt so big, and so strangely empty. It was so quiet. So quiet that she could hear her own breath, and she was close to running back upstairs when she heard something. A small noise that made her stop where she was. She almost convinced herself to continue the step down, but then a second noise somewhere else in the house spooked her into running quietly, until the last landing where she always fell, back up the stairs. She stayed in her room for nearly three weeks before she ventured out once more.
This time, later at night but not as late as the first time, she was a little more calm. A little more steady. She took her steps down the hall, counting them in her head as she did each day. Twenty-seven steps from her room to the stairs. On the twenty-sixth step, she paused, and drew a deep breath. She was working through the nerves when she heard it again. The violin. She’d heard it for years, both during and after Briar’s living here, but she never failed to think how lovely it sounded. She let the music guide her down the stairs until she quietly got to the last step. She kept telling herself that she could do it. She could manage it. For a whole minute while she listened to the violin, only her toes touched the bottom floor. When her head wasn’t immediately taken off, and her eyes opened to realize nobody was around her, the rest of her foot set down on the floor. And then the other.
Her heart hammered as she stood there, but a small sense of pride swelled within her too. She’d finally done it. She’d finally ventured down to the bottom of the stairs. She almost felt overwhelmed with the feeling, but she took her moment to bask in it, even if her fingers were gripped around the railing like she was ready to dash back upstairs at any moment. The sound of that violin though, was very alluring, so though she moved slowly, she quietly crept, sticking to the shadows and the walls until she came across the doors to the outside. It looked so wonderful out there, like it did from her balcony. They were open, and she could smell that wonderful scent of air and ocean. She and the wolf gulped down their fear together, but she also let the wolf guide her towards what it wanted. She stopped just at the doors to the outside, pressed against the wall beside the door, her body in the warmth as her eyes blinked to adjust to the sight. It was beautiful, but she wasn’t sure if she could make herself step outside just yet. She was already coiling to run again as it was.
Instead, she let her eyes move around the beauty of the yard, the beach and the waves, seeing Meph off in the sand, a little smile unconsciously moving across her lips as her artist brain painted a picture in her mind. Those eyes then moved around again, landing on the man playing the violin. She was nearly sure he was aware of her, but she just stood there, listening to him play, waiting for a natural break and her heart to release the grip upon her throat before she, once more in a voice nearly cracked from almost never being used, said; “Hi.”
The next time she was truly awake was five days later. She didn’t know it was five days, of course, but when the medicine started wearing off, and her mind and body actually began to wake up, the first thing she noticed was the absence of pain. That was odd, incredibly so, and her mind started doing an internal assessment of herself, unconsciously trying to judge how much more abuse she might be able to take, but the next thing she noticed was how bright and white the room was. That was more concerning than confusing. Everything smelled clean, and lovely. She could even smell air and a flower located somewhere in the room, and she started to become even more confused. Another hospital? Where was she? Her eyes slowly started to open, blinking several times before she actually saw anything start to come into focus, and it was right about then that she heard a voice. The voice said her name, which while she knew, had never heard before and it pulled her head towards him.
Sitting in the chair beside her was the face she’d been seeing. She met that piercing blue with her soft honey brown eyes for just a moment before she fully woke up, but when she did, her eyes cleared from their haze, whiled her body jumped automatically into fear. In an instant, feeling as light as a cloud, she scurried backwards while whimpers moved from between her lips and having no idea where she really was, straight out of the bed. She hit the floor, causing sharp and fresh pain as she landed, a feeling she was familiar with, which in an instant signalled to her that she was not dead, and brought back the reality of what had happened. She scurried backwards until she hit the table beside the bed, a short scream of surprise leaving her at the noise as she then shot forward under the bed. As she huddled under the bed, she heard his voice again, saying; “That’s about what I was expecting.” He didn’t move towards her at all, leaving her huddled under the bed, but she could hear him as he spoke. Keeping his calm tone, he said; “No to the hospital. You’re in a hotel room in Las Vegas. And I’m the one who saved you. And before you ask, yes, I am reading your mind.”
Evangeline heard all of his words, and attempted to process them. Saved her? From the house? Was Ric really dead? With a smile in his voice, he proclaimed, “They’re all dead. Except the five that I spared. Ric, the alpha and all of his little cronies are dead.” Her heartbeat increased as the news of their demise and it not being a dream was probably more amazing than anything else that could’ve happened in the past....ever. With all of those questions answered, there was only one more question that she needed answered. The only other question she had was what does she call him. Before she even completed the thought, the answer was given. “You may call me Gandrell.”
Gandrell? That name even sounded angelic, and it was curious enough that from underneath the bed, her eyes were visible just peeking up at the bed for a moment. She watched him adjust in the chair, putting both of his feet on the floor, laying both elbows on his knees to lean forward and look at her. “Now you need to answer a question for me. Would you rather go to a completely safe underground facility in New Orleans, or an open aired mansion in New York?” On the word underground, Eevee gave a soft whimper and slid her head back under the bed, which was Gandrell’s answer. New York was decided, but to Eevee’s amazement, he did not attempt to pull her from the bed as she had been expecting. Instead he left her right there to hide until she was ready to emerge. In that time, although Eevee was no longer paying attention as she reeled from the information that Ric and the pack was indeed gone, she did hear Gandrell use the telephone three different times, and although her earring could’ve picked up the details, her mind was still too full of this new information to really understand what was happening.
Three Months In
Upon arriving in New York by way of Eevee choosing sedation, as there was worry she’d be sick in the air, Eevee woke up in an amazingly beautiful room. That she never left. The closed door was too scary, because although this room and her bathroom were incredibly amazing, what was the rest of it like? She lost her nerve to find out every time she attempted to approach the door, and always wound up hiding in the darkest corner the room offered. She only ever left this piece to use the bathroom, but since it was connected, her mind never translated that she was actually leaving the room. But when she was done, it was back to her corner where she huddled against any sound from the outside. It was also too difficult to fall asleep in the bed, so she had taken to falling asleep under the safety of the bathroom sink with it’s closed doors. She curled her little body in there, yet somehow, she always woke up back in the bed.
About two weeks in, her nightmares began anew, her mind giving her a semi-peaceful reprieve for a short time, but Ric never failed to torment her even from beyond the grave. At these times, something was always there to keep her calm, but nothing was there if she actually woke. Which she did one night. She came out of sleep fast, too dazed to realize if anyone had been there. She was in the bed again, tangled in the beautifully coloured blankets. She panted and whimpered as her mind struggled to remember, again, where she was. It was the scents in the room that signalled it. She was still in her room. There was a candle burning to penetrate the darkness, and it had become a comfort to see when she woke. For a little while, she watched the flame dance, but she found that sleep was too scary. She quietly got out of the bed, and turned on the lamp over the desk. When she did, a pencil just happened to roll down from beside the lamp as if a sign.
She didn’t really think as she picked it up, but there was no paper. She sat with the pencil in her corner for about ten minutes her mind full before her hand was pulled towards the bright white wall. For the next three and a half hours, Evangeline covered the wall in extremely graphic, but very realistic images of both her nightmares, and beautiful images of her current reality. Anything that came to her transferred to the walls, but it was like she was possessed. She couldn’t stop, even moving the desk out of the way to complete the bottom corner of one of the scenes. By the time she was done, more than half of one wall was covered in her nightmares, but on the other, closer to the balcony doors was another wolf, and her saviour.
Meph, the other wolf who lived in the house. She had seen him playing from the balcony, splashing in the water, running around, kicking up sand. She was still absolutely terrified of him, but she couldn’t help but be curious too. And right now, she was drawing anything and everything she had seen, and she didn’t have a choice, it seemed on what was happening. She drew Gandrell the way she had originally seen him, calm but absolutely dangerous, but it wasn’t cast in a light of fear. It wasn’t drawn in fear, but it was there nonetheless. That was where she stopped, her brain finally calmed down enough to let the nightmares pass. Of course, then she realized how much of the walls she’d drawn on, and hid under the bed, where she fell asleep again.
Six Months In
Although she’d been waiting for punishment for drawing all over the walls, this was not what happened. She woke up the next morning, once more back in her bed, but the room was slightly different. It had been covered in art supplies. Canvasses, paints, brushes, pencils, charcoal. She gasped in delight and surprise when she realized it was all for her. She still did not leave her room, running for cover at each noise outside the door, but she made many many beautiful paintings and drawings over the next three months. But at six months, she finally gained the courage to look beyond the door. Once, she’d been awake when Gandrell had brought her her meal, and although she hadn’t spoken, she finally saw what was beyond the door and it made her curious.
It took over two hours of her standing there, losing her nerve over and over again, but on a brave breath, she finally pulled it open. The air and scent of the house hit her all at once, making her freeze in the doorway. But the door was opened. It would take another few weeks before Eevee actually put a toe outside of the door, but the door was at least opened. She even kept it open for at least two minutes minutes until a noise from downstairs made her close it quickly and hide under the bed for an hour. In these months, although she hadn’t figured out how the bathtub worked, not daring to try again since the water burned her fingers, she had at least figured out how to wash herself with a cloth and the water from the sink. It was still hot, but it wasn’t as hot as the water that poured from the bathtub, so she would sit on the edge of the counter and wash herself the best she could. Plus, she always had clean clothes now, which helped her want to be cleaner.
At around eight months, one morning, she woke up in so much pain, and between her legs and her thighs were sticky and wet. She smelt blood, and she was so afraid to pull back the covers. She struggled to remember if anything happened, and hoped this wasn’t the point when it began all over, as it was around the eighth month mark of her last rescue that things had turned, crying as she fought to understand the pain she was in and struggling to stay calm. It wasn’t like normal, but it was so shockingly different. Like something had reach inside and started ripping. Before she fell too too deeply into that train of thought, Gandrell was there, and his deep, rich voice was assuring her that she was okay. She still backed from him, but she did listen to him. It took some coaxing, because she was afraid someone had done something, but he still seemed to be reading her mind, because anything she thought was answered just like before. Nothing had happened to her, and this was a natural process her body had to go through.
She made herself listen to him as he explained, and offered her a choice, because she knew deep within that this was different. She was still crying, but less so as she took his hand, allowing herself to be moved from the bed. Everything hurt, but in a new way. Gandrell was so gentle and sweet as he gently explained to her what was happening, and helped her figure out how to use the bathtub properly, and what she discovered when she finally got in it was the closest thing to Heaven she’d felt yet. The button he told her to push startled her, and she scurried backwards right into a jet in her spine, which caused such pleasure that she gasped a little before leaning into it. There was another jet aimed somewhere else, but she shifted from that one still.
She never spoke a word, yet Gandrell stayed with her the entire time, helping her even after the bath as he explained what to do, and got her settled back into the cleaned bed. Since this was her first period, she wound up sleeping and crying on and off for the rest of the day as her body worked through its natural process, although the rest of the time was an interesting and fairly physically miserable trip, leading to many interesting and scary dreams that, once more, were kept at the surface. One of those times when she woke up, something smelled so delicious. When she looked over, she saw a cake sitting there, and as she scooted towards it, she found herself in shock and laughing out loud at what it said. There was a little note for her to eat it slowly, and she did. But still, she laughed for the first time in years.
The rest of the year was spent simply adjusting. To herself, her surroundings, to struggle with the fact she couldn’t and didn’t accept that she was safe. Even if Ric was dead, what if someone else came, what if someone else decided to steal her. These were the thoughts that consumed the majority of the day, and more often than not, the results of the paintings she did.
Two Years In
It took months for Eevee to get used to the idea, but opening her door for a little bit that day, she had started doing for as long as she could take, ranging between only a few minutes to sometimes, if the house was quiet enough, a full half an hour during the day while she painted. She’d noticed that the projects she had finished kept disappearing at night, and while she figured someone was doing something with them, she couldn’t figure out what. It didn’t so much matter, as it kept the counters cleared of too many projects, but she was curious. Finally, one day, when the house was quiet, Eevee gathered enough courage to step out of the room. It lasted about three seconds before she was back inside with a closed door, and she had at least a ten minute panic attack. A few days later, she tried again, and made it just past the doorframe, lasting about six seconds that time before she was back in her room. The pattern continued throughout the rest of that first year, and by the new year, she had even made it to bathroom door in the hall before she bolted back to the safety of her room.
She only ever did this when she was alone, and she often hid under the bed after it. Under the bed and the bathroom cupboard were safety zones still, and ones she could quite often be found in. Yet even this long after, she still fell asleep there, and woke up in her bed again. She was growing more used to the bed, but falling asleep was still challenging. A lot of things were challenging, which in a lot of ways was frustrating. That frustration often transferred to the canvasses, and it always reverted back to the first portrait she’d done. Her nightmares were still just behind that wall sized canvass, and each week, Eevee made herself sit down and face them until she felt too weak to do so.
Four Years In
As patterns do, Eevee developed one. Four years had passed, and she had spoken no more words than she had on that first day, but she was getting better, and more comfortable. She continued pushing herself further and further outside of her room, although still only when she was alone, and had walked almost the entire upstairs. She still had no idea what was beyond the stairs, as she was not brave enough to venture down there, but she still felt like she was making progress. The nightmares were still frequent, but she had learned coping skills to deal with them. Every time though, a candle was lit when she woke. And every time, she smiled at it. Her period had been coming monthly since that first one, but what there was barely a sign of yet was the wolf. She was worried about it, worried that it had been so beaten it was never coming back.
The full moons came and went, and each one of them, she watched Meph’s wolf go out to play. She wanted that, she wanted that deeply, and she could feel the need to do it. She felt the need to howl, and run and play, but she was worried something was wrong with her. She felt the urges but not the changes. No matter how much she pushed, usually enough to make her pass out with the effort. But forcing it wasn’t working, and it was painful to try and do. She was getting frustrated and worried that it was never coming back, and she wondered every time she saw Meph what was wrong with her.
This lead to the very first verbal interaction with Gandrell she’d had since the day in the cage early into that fourth year. But did that cage really count? She knew by now he would be around with lunch at 12 pm sharp, so instead of losing all her nerve when she though of going downstairs to find him, she instead continued to work for a little bit before she went and sat in the corner of her room where she felt the safest. Exactly when she expected, he came. She almost lost her nerve again, but when he looked away again, she finally found her voice. It was quiet, and nearly cracked from never using it, but it formed the words she meant to say. “Please wait.” Her head almost immediately hid in her knees when she realized she actually spoke aloud instead of thinking it as she normally did to communicate with him. But then her head lifted again, and that tiny voice spoke again. “I’d...like to ask something, if possible.” She took a huge breath, the nerves almost getting her and silencing her before the question came out. “Is it...possible for the wolf to just...be gone from someone?”
Gand paused with his hand ready to close the door behind him as he exited, but her voice gave him pause. He turned to look in the direction the voice had come from and, not to appear menacing, he offered a gentle smile and moved back into the room slowly. As he pondered her question he seated himself in a chair across the room from her. "Your wolf is in there. I can hear her pacing. But she knows you are not healed enough yet so she sleeps until your transformation will be a successful one." Gandrell's tone held such confidence and understanding it was hard not to believe him. "Courage of the heart is very rare. You have that in you. Your wolf has that in her. Start talking to her, she will help heal your emotions faster than doing it on your own."
Evangeline didn’t verbally reply to this, but she thought about it as Gandrell left the room. Her eyes, before he left, would’ve shown that she was listening and paying attention. For the rest of that fourth year, that’s exactly what she did. Every day, she tried talking to the wolf, but it would take the sleeping wolf quite a while yet to reply. She was shocked when it did finally happen, on her birthday. She was just sitting there, enjoying the little cake she found outside her door each year on this date, when the howl in her head took her by storm. It dropped her because she wasn’t expecting it, but she was beyond relieved to hear it. She hadn’t lost it. They hadn’t killed her. She was still alive, and this was proof of it.
She got so excited that she actually left the room, but she only made it to the daunting staircase before she stopped. Her head started to swirl as she looked down the long stairs, but that ever-present need for safety was stronger than her excitement, and she moved back to her room instead. There she would remain until, as always, she fell asleep under the bathroom sink.
Five & Six Years In
Although she technically knew the other vampire who lived in the house, that beautifully talented musical one, she had not seen her in the entire time she’d been here. But she’d heard her. That voice was soothing in ways she didn’t expect, and when she left that year, Evangeline missed it. The comfort in this came when the violin continued, which was what would eventually come to draw her out of her room. These years were hard. It was harder than expected, as she started questioning and struggling with herself why she couldn’t just go down the stairs. Every day now, she lingered at the top, but every day, she couldn’t take that step. She wanted too. A part of her was ready to look beyond, but too much still screamed no, and always she wound up back in her room.
She had to go through a long period of self reflection, helped along by her wolf inside. A lot of these years, she was crying. She started then to recognize how damaged she truly was. She also started to let herself dig into the memories, letting them play out. She had horrible nightmares that year, more awake than asleep unless that something that kept her asleep was there. Even then, though, it was difficult, and she often spent those nights painting.
Things got better in the seventh year. After seven years, she finally started to relax. At least within the confines of her room. She even started sleeping in the bed once a week, but the other days, she still fell asleep in her normal spots. She was learning to eat more, her wolf was getting more and more active, and she’d even ventured out onto the balcony. She spent only a night or two there, sitting on the warm stone before there was an entire patio set when she woke up. She smiled at this, because she knew now who was doing it. It was a slow, slow process, but she was learning to trust Gandrell. It wasn’t easy to trust anyone, but she was learning that he was genuine and he meant what he said. She really was safe here.
Perhaps it was this, at seven and a half years, that finally let her go down that first step. Then the second. The third didn’t happen for another few weeks, but over the course of the next two years, she began to venture the stairs. Of course, if anyone passed by while she was on them, she would immediately bolt back upstairs, usually falling at the top because she was curse to slip around that corner. And always on the same rib! Thankfully, she’d grown enough muscle and strength with Gand’s care that they didn’t break when this happened. But it still hurt! By the end of that year, she had almost reached the second landing. Only one more to the bottom. This, however, wouldn’t happen for another two years.
Nine Years In
It took nine years before Eevee had made it to the bottom of the stairs. It was in the dead of night, when the house was quiet. She trembled as she stood there, looking around. It was dimly lit, but her eyes could adjust to the dark now. She could see how pretty it was, but it felt so big, and so strangely empty. It was so quiet. So quiet that she could hear her own breath, and she was close to running back upstairs when she heard something. A small noise that made her stop where she was. She almost convinced herself to continue the step down, but then a second noise somewhere else in the house spooked her into running quietly, until the last landing where she always fell, back up the stairs. She stayed in her room for nearly three weeks before she ventured out once more.
This time, later at night but not as late as the first time, she was a little more calm. A little more steady. She took her steps down the hall, counting them in her head as she did each day. Twenty-seven steps from her room to the stairs. On the twenty-sixth step, she paused, and drew a deep breath. She was working through the nerves when she heard it again. The violin. She’d heard it for years, both during and after Briar’s living here, but she never failed to think how lovely it sounded. She let the music guide her down the stairs until she quietly got to the last step. She kept telling herself that she could do it. She could manage it. For a whole minute while she listened to the violin, only her toes touched the bottom floor. When her head wasn’t immediately taken off, and her eyes opened to realize nobody was around her, the rest of her foot set down on the floor. And then the other.
Her heart hammered as she stood there, but a small sense of pride swelled within her too. She’d finally done it. She’d finally ventured down to the bottom of the stairs. She almost felt overwhelmed with the feeling, but she took her moment to bask in it, even if her fingers were gripped around the railing like she was ready to dash back upstairs at any moment. The sound of that violin though, was very alluring, so though she moved slowly, she quietly crept, sticking to the shadows and the walls until she came across the doors to the outside. It looked so wonderful out there, like it did from her balcony. They were open, and she could smell that wonderful scent of air and ocean. She and the wolf gulped down their fear together, but she also let the wolf guide her towards what it wanted. She stopped just at the doors to the outside, pressed against the wall beside the door, her body in the warmth as her eyes blinked to adjust to the sight. It was beautiful, but she wasn’t sure if she could make herself step outside just yet. She was already coiling to run again as it was.
Instead, she let her eyes move around the beauty of the yard, the beach and the waves, seeing Meph off in the sand, a little smile unconsciously moving across her lips as her artist brain painted a picture in her mind. Those eyes then moved around again, landing on the man playing the violin. She was nearly sure he was aware of her, but she just stood there, listening to him play, waiting for a natural break and her heart to release the grip upon her throat before she, once more in a voice nearly cracked from almost never being used, said; “Hi.”
Putting Evangeline back together wasn't his only task in the wake of the destruction of the Golden Ridge Pack. There was a matter of finding a safe place for the five he spared. He gave them money, contacted several packs in the area, and passed the information to them about the ones that were willing to offer the wolves a place with them. Valley of Fire Pack was closest and open to accepting the homeless wolves. Gandrell was on his way to visit the Valley of Fire Pack as they needed a favor of him. He brought the girls along with him in his car, and he delivered them safely into the arms of their new pack master, Dean.
The Favor
It turns out six had been spared from his killing spree. A young vampire who had been imprisoned had made her escape and ended up in their small town. Gandrell met with the young lady in a dark room and was instantly beguiled by her. He saw potential in her right away and offered his protection and teachings to her. Briar was her name. Gandrell's offer to become her mentor was accepted.
Gandrell was a transparent gentleman. He explained about the girl he had saved from the dungeon and that he was nursing her back to health. He let Briar know she would be staying in a separate room than the girl, but she would still see him quite often. He would feed her. There would be no need to hunt. He reiterated this by offering her his arm and allowing her to partake in his rich, powerful blood. When night fell, they left the small town and headed for Vegas. Gandrell deposited Briar in a glamous hotel room and gave her more blood than she could consume in a month. He then returned to his patient.
He tended to her gently, always careful how and where he touched her. He watched her dreams and tried to help soothe them to keep her calm. For her, he was the miracle working doctor on her body and an angel to her mind. Whenever her dreams started to drift towards the morbidly unpleasant, Gandrell would put the image of Ric's decapitated head in her mind, and that would comfort her. Each dream he interrupted, he tried to place her mind in a more and more dominant role over the dead abuser. He wanted his patient to feel empowered by Ric's death, almost to the point where she felt like she was the one who finally killed him.
He spent time talking with Briar and earning her trust between treatments of his patient. He liked Briar. He was attracted to Briar. Sadly, vampires rarely dated another vampire for more than a few years before they were off pursuing something else. Funny, isn't it? Immortals can only tolerate other immortals for short bursts (less than ten years), but vampires can be around an inconstantant human for decades. With Briar cared for and Evangeline physically healed, it was time to move on to the next place.
He readied her and allowed the sedatives to wear off. Evangeline didn't disappoint when she threw her perfectly healed body off the bed and hit the floor. The sound of the impact of her lilith body against the hard ground caused a sigh to leave his lips. All that hard work she's bruised herself immediately. Given his immense power as a vampire, he had developed what was called the Mind Gift, which gave him the ability to read the minds of those around him. It wasn't a gift he used often. It was mainly used with his victims so he could relive their most evil of deeds with them as they were drained of blood until their hearts stopped. It was this gift he used on her now, reading her mind so she would not have to speak.
He answered her questions. Explained vaguely what happened in the pack house. Made sure she knew her abusers were dead and never coming back. Then, he offered her the opportunity to pick where they would reside while she healed. New Orleans seemed to scare her, so New York it was. He had purchased a mansion in the Hamptons a few years back. It was recently remodeled with the new upgrades of the decade. It would suffice nicely for her rehabilitation.
He pushed himself up from the straight-backed chair and wanted over to the telephone. The first call was to the caretaker of the property to let the gentleman know he would be arriving with guests before morning and to ready the staff. The next call was to his ward, Meph, to explain to him that they would be moving to New York for a few years. Meph was instructed on how to lock up the house. Meph was also given permission to use one of the motorcycles to get him to New York.
Meph was another werewolf he had rescued from a situation that was not that much different from Evangeline's. Meph had been taken under the vampire's arm some thirty years ago. It had taken him three years to sleep outside of a cage, another eight years to speak a word, and another five years to realize he was no longer a slave. So after sixteen years, Gandrell finally started to mentally and emotionally heal the poor...well...man. Meph had appeared to be about nineteen when Gandrell rescued him, though his emotional age was closer to nine, while his chronological age was over a thousand. Meph's...complicated. He was also a born Viking and was intimidating as Satan to look at. But under the muscles and scars was the most gentle heart that ever existed. Gandrell hoped Meph would be good for Evangeline, a role model, possibly even a mate down the road.
The third call was to Briar, informing her to drink up as they would be leaving in the next few hours to head to his home in New York. After his calls, Gandrell turned to the bed Evangeline was hiding under and said gently, "I need to go settle our bill downstairs. There are clothes for you in the dresser." Realizing she might not know what a dresser was, he went over and pulled out the two drawers he had placed clothes in for her. "Everything in there is yours. Wear what you like. I will give you privacy." Gandrell went downstairs and paid for the rooms. He also tipped everyone he came across generously. He liked to be positively remembered.
Evangeline chose sedation for the flight. Gandrell packed Briar's blood up, tucking a few bags into his jacket pocket for her. He gave Evangeline a sedative, wrapped her in a blanket, and tucked her into his embrace. Briar, with the bag of blood strapped to her back, climbed onto Gandrell's back and held on tight. The powerful vampire carried them onto the balcony and lifted into the air. He didn't travel at his normal speed as they could kill the young one in his arms, and Briar was still gaining strength. Instead of the trip taking three hours, it took six.
Gandrell deposited Briar in the living room with the promise of a quick return. He carried Evangeline up the stairs and to the most spacious and luxurious suit he had in his home. The walls were white, the carpet was thick and comfortable enough to lay on, the ceilings were high, there was an elegant bathroom attached, and the bed was huge. The vampire unwrapped the blanket from around her and placed her in the cloud-soft bed. He checked her vital signs and decided to let her rest for the night.
He settled Briar in next on the first floor just passed the kitchen. There we four large bedrooms that his live-in staff usually occupied, but with two damaged and recovering werewolves and an untrained vampire, Gandrell would have no human near his house. Gandrell spent a few hours until dawn going over rules about feeding with Briar. They came to an agreement, and he showed her to a room where she would be safe from the rays of the sun. Meph arrived the next day and took the room next to Gandrell - when Meph had a nightmare, Gandrell had to react quickly, or walls might get knocked down.
Gandrell set a strict routine for himself: Fifteen minutes before dawn, he ensured Briar was somewhere safe from the light. Then, he prepared a concoction of fruits, vegetables, vitamins, protein powers, and antioxidants into a blender and made a smoothie. Evangeline wasn't quick ready to eat food. He would enter her room, numb her body, insert the feeding tube, and fill her stomach with the nutrients. He would then heal her completely, leave the remaining smoothie on the bedside table, and depart. He then would prepare breakfast for Meph to eat when he got back from his morning run on the beach. He always made Meph eat before the werewolf was allowed to disappear into the home gym Gandrell had added with this last remodel.
Gandrell put in a few hours of work before it was time for lunch. Evangeline got another smoothie and Meph ate half a fucking cow. When Gandrell brought Evangeline her smoothie, he knocked, opened the door slowly, explained why he was there, and left the room quickly. Now it was time for his daily slumber. For five hours a day, he laid down in his bed and slept.
When he woke, he prepared another smoothie for Evangeline, a hearty dinner for Meph, and had blood ready for Briar. He did some more work until he finally heard Evangeline go to sleep. Then he would go upstairs and clean her bedroom. He removed the smoothie cups, picked up any laundry, ensured she had towels, and gave the room a thorough cleaning. Then he went to find her where she slept under the bathroom sink and placed her in bed. He would work on her physical health for about three hours every night before he let her rest. He would then go find Briar for her vampire lessons. That was how Gandrell spent the first Three Months.
The next three months kept Gandrell on his toes. Evangeline had started drawing her nightmares, Meph and himself being featured among the brutality. He guessed that was why Evangeline kept hiding; he was a fear factor. She didn't need as much physical care, so Gandrell limited his time with her. He still brought her food multiple times a day, only one smoothie to start out her morning, then she got the same food Meph got, her portions were just smaller at first. When he first saw her drawings, his instincts screamed therapeutic opportunities. He rushed out and raided an art store in New York City. He practically bought the whole damned store. He bought every canvas, a dozen sets of brushes, two dozen paint sets with a variety of colors. Charcoal pencils, colored pencils, crayons, markers, oil paints, and brushes. If it existed in this store, he bought it. He decorated Evangeline's bedroom with the art supplies for her to wake up to. He took her finished artwork away at night, and she woke up with clean canvases every morning.
It was also during this time Briar showed herself to be musical. It was easy for Gandrell to give her a recording studio. Briar also chose to take her mentor as a lover, and together, they made beautiful music and love all over the house. Briar consumed a little of Gandrell's blood every day, which allowed her to gain in her vampire powers a little every day. Vampire lesson, music, sex became their interactions.
Meph thrived in the salty ocean air. He found that running in sand was a fantastic workout, same with running in the waves, which he did as a human and a wolf. Meph was getting better, but he wasn't ready for the world yet. He was still too child-like. He played like a child. He expressed himself like a child. He saw the world through a child's eyes. He still had a long road ahead of him.
Eight months...
Gandrell's routines never faltered. Meals were on time, canvases replaced, rooms cleaned, lessons taught, sexual appetites satisfied, business handled via letter and phone, he was a machine the way he did it all. Then something happened that let him know he was doing everything right. Evangeline bled. She was terrified, but she let him help her. He taught her about the bathtub, how to get the water warm, and which soaps to use. He taught her about how to use products to absorb the blood. Excitement over, back to the daily routine.
After five years, Briar got a record deal that he made happen. Briar departed their little family to go on tour. Gandrell was proud of the woman she had become but was sad to be losing his companion. He never showed it, though. He was all smiles and excitement for her as she packed her bags. When the door closed behind her, he stayed in his room for the rest of the day. Vampire can't cry, but their hearts can, and his did.
He pushed through it, though, as he did everything. Meals were prepared, rooms cleaned, canvases changed out. Meph was going through long therapy sessions with him now, which usually ended with Meph storming out of the house and refusing to talk to him the rest of the day. Evangeline had her own therapy with her art. Gandrell never showed for a moment he was lost or unhappy; his life was about them. Meph spent ninety percent of his time angry at him, and Evangeline was terrified of him. These were some hard, lonely years for the vampire. But he whistled and danced through his misery, never showing the depth of his suffering.
Six years...
Seven years...
Eight years...
Nine years...
You would think Gandrell would have cracked up by now, but he just fell into his routine and didn't miss a beat. He had lost all prospects of his own life, merely existing to serve those who disdained him. Meph had just stormed out of another therapy session and was playing in the sand and water. Gandrell, trying to keep his sanity in check, gravitated to his violin. He hadn't played much since Briar left, but he was in the mood for a real emotional beating today. He felt like a failure. Nearly a lifetime had passed and Meph could barely face what happened to him, and the other werewolf who still wouldn't talk or sleep in her bed after nearly a decade. He was failing, and he knew it.
He took up his violin and turned sorrow and doubt into song. He released all his woes, troubles, and heartbreak into that song. As he played, he felt her. Evangeline was behind him, waiting for him, needing him? Gandrell brought the song to a dramatic end before lowering the instrument. At her greeting, he turned to face her. With a gentle smile, he replied, "Hello, Evangeline. Are you hungry?"
The violin was returned to its case, and the case was put away. He led her into the kitchen, and as they walked, he asked, "Do you have any requests for lunch?" He hadn't slept yet that day, the intensity of the day weakening him as his body was used to sleep at this time. But he showed zero signs of weakness. If Evangeline had a lunch request, he executed it perfectly, making more than enough for both werewolves to stuff themselves. As he cooked, he tried to engage Evangeline in conversation. "How are you liking your stay so far? Is there anything that you need or want?"
The Favor
It turns out six had been spared from his killing spree. A young vampire who had been imprisoned had made her escape and ended up in their small town. Gandrell met with the young lady in a dark room and was instantly beguiled by her. He saw potential in her right away and offered his protection and teachings to her. Briar was her name. Gandrell's offer to become her mentor was accepted.
Gandrell was a transparent gentleman. He explained about the girl he had saved from the dungeon and that he was nursing her back to health. He let Briar know she would be staying in a separate room than the girl, but she would still see him quite often. He would feed her. There would be no need to hunt. He reiterated this by offering her his arm and allowing her to partake in his rich, powerful blood. When night fell, they left the small town and headed for Vegas. Gandrell deposited Briar in a glamous hotel room and gave her more blood than she could consume in a month. He then returned to his patient.
He tended to her gently, always careful how and where he touched her. He watched her dreams and tried to help soothe them to keep her calm. For her, he was the miracle working doctor on her body and an angel to her mind. Whenever her dreams started to drift towards the morbidly unpleasant, Gandrell would put the image of Ric's decapitated head in her mind, and that would comfort her. Each dream he interrupted, he tried to place her mind in a more and more dominant role over the dead abuser. He wanted his patient to feel empowered by Ric's death, almost to the point where she felt like she was the one who finally killed him.
He spent time talking with Briar and earning her trust between treatments of his patient. He liked Briar. He was attracted to Briar. Sadly, vampires rarely dated another vampire for more than a few years before they were off pursuing something else. Funny, isn't it? Immortals can only tolerate other immortals for short bursts (less than ten years), but vampires can be around an inconstantant human for decades. With Briar cared for and Evangeline physically healed, it was time to move on to the next place.
He readied her and allowed the sedatives to wear off. Evangeline didn't disappoint when she threw her perfectly healed body off the bed and hit the floor. The sound of the impact of her lilith body against the hard ground caused a sigh to leave his lips. All that hard work she's bruised herself immediately. Given his immense power as a vampire, he had developed what was called the Mind Gift, which gave him the ability to read the minds of those around him. It wasn't a gift he used often. It was mainly used with his victims so he could relive their most evil of deeds with them as they were drained of blood until their hearts stopped. It was this gift he used on her now, reading her mind so she would not have to speak.
He answered her questions. Explained vaguely what happened in the pack house. Made sure she knew her abusers were dead and never coming back. Then, he offered her the opportunity to pick where they would reside while she healed. New Orleans seemed to scare her, so New York it was. He had purchased a mansion in the Hamptons a few years back. It was recently remodeled with the new upgrades of the decade. It would suffice nicely for her rehabilitation.
He pushed himself up from the straight-backed chair and wanted over to the telephone. The first call was to the caretaker of the property to let the gentleman know he would be arriving with guests before morning and to ready the staff. The next call was to his ward, Meph, to explain to him that they would be moving to New York for a few years. Meph was instructed on how to lock up the house. Meph was also given permission to use one of the motorcycles to get him to New York.
Meph was another werewolf he had rescued from a situation that was not that much different from Evangeline's. Meph had been taken under the vampire's arm some thirty years ago. It had taken him three years to sleep outside of a cage, another eight years to speak a word, and another five years to realize he was no longer a slave. So after sixteen years, Gandrell finally started to mentally and emotionally heal the poor...well...man. Meph had appeared to be about nineteen when Gandrell rescued him, though his emotional age was closer to nine, while his chronological age was over a thousand. Meph's...complicated. He was also a born Viking and was intimidating as Satan to look at. But under the muscles and scars was the most gentle heart that ever existed. Gandrell hoped Meph would be good for Evangeline, a role model, possibly even a mate down the road.
The third call was to Briar, informing her to drink up as they would be leaving in the next few hours to head to his home in New York. After his calls, Gandrell turned to the bed Evangeline was hiding under and said gently, "I need to go settle our bill downstairs. There are clothes for you in the dresser." Realizing she might not know what a dresser was, he went over and pulled out the two drawers he had placed clothes in for her. "Everything in there is yours. Wear what you like. I will give you privacy." Gandrell went downstairs and paid for the rooms. He also tipped everyone he came across generously. He liked to be positively remembered.
Evangeline chose sedation for the flight. Gandrell packed Briar's blood up, tucking a few bags into his jacket pocket for her. He gave Evangeline a sedative, wrapped her in a blanket, and tucked her into his embrace. Briar, with the bag of blood strapped to her back, climbed onto Gandrell's back and held on tight. The powerful vampire carried them onto the balcony and lifted into the air. He didn't travel at his normal speed as they could kill the young one in his arms, and Briar was still gaining strength. Instead of the trip taking three hours, it took six.
Gandrell deposited Briar in the living room with the promise of a quick return. He carried Evangeline up the stairs and to the most spacious and luxurious suit he had in his home. The walls were white, the carpet was thick and comfortable enough to lay on, the ceilings were high, there was an elegant bathroom attached, and the bed was huge. The vampire unwrapped the blanket from around her and placed her in the cloud-soft bed. He checked her vital signs and decided to let her rest for the night.
He settled Briar in next on the first floor just passed the kitchen. There we four large bedrooms that his live-in staff usually occupied, but with two damaged and recovering werewolves and an untrained vampire, Gandrell would have no human near his house. Gandrell spent a few hours until dawn going over rules about feeding with Briar. They came to an agreement, and he showed her to a room where she would be safe from the rays of the sun. Meph arrived the next day and took the room next to Gandrell - when Meph had a nightmare, Gandrell had to react quickly, or walls might get knocked down.
Gandrell set a strict routine for himself: Fifteen minutes before dawn, he ensured Briar was somewhere safe from the light. Then, he prepared a concoction of fruits, vegetables, vitamins, protein powers, and antioxidants into a blender and made a smoothie. Evangeline wasn't quick ready to eat food. He would enter her room, numb her body, insert the feeding tube, and fill her stomach with the nutrients. He would then heal her completely, leave the remaining smoothie on the bedside table, and depart. He then would prepare breakfast for Meph to eat when he got back from his morning run on the beach. He always made Meph eat before the werewolf was allowed to disappear into the home gym Gandrell had added with this last remodel.
Gandrell put in a few hours of work before it was time for lunch. Evangeline got another smoothie and Meph ate half a fucking cow. When Gandrell brought Evangeline her smoothie, he knocked, opened the door slowly, explained why he was there, and left the room quickly. Now it was time for his daily slumber. For five hours a day, he laid down in his bed and slept.
When he woke, he prepared another smoothie for Evangeline, a hearty dinner for Meph, and had blood ready for Briar. He did some more work until he finally heard Evangeline go to sleep. Then he would go upstairs and clean her bedroom. He removed the smoothie cups, picked up any laundry, ensured she had towels, and gave the room a thorough cleaning. Then he went to find her where she slept under the bathroom sink and placed her in bed. He would work on her physical health for about three hours every night before he let her rest. He would then go find Briar for her vampire lessons. That was how Gandrell spent the first Three Months.
The next three months kept Gandrell on his toes. Evangeline had started drawing her nightmares, Meph and himself being featured among the brutality. He guessed that was why Evangeline kept hiding; he was a fear factor. She didn't need as much physical care, so Gandrell limited his time with her. He still brought her food multiple times a day, only one smoothie to start out her morning, then she got the same food Meph got, her portions were just smaller at first. When he first saw her drawings, his instincts screamed therapeutic opportunities. He rushed out and raided an art store in New York City. He practically bought the whole damned store. He bought every canvas, a dozen sets of brushes, two dozen paint sets with a variety of colors. Charcoal pencils, colored pencils, crayons, markers, oil paints, and brushes. If it existed in this store, he bought it. He decorated Evangeline's bedroom with the art supplies for her to wake up to. He took her finished artwork away at night, and she woke up with clean canvases every morning.
It was also during this time Briar showed herself to be musical. It was easy for Gandrell to give her a recording studio. Briar also chose to take her mentor as a lover, and together, they made beautiful music and love all over the house. Briar consumed a little of Gandrell's blood every day, which allowed her to gain in her vampire powers a little every day. Vampire lesson, music, sex became their interactions.
Meph thrived in the salty ocean air. He found that running in sand was a fantastic workout, same with running in the waves, which he did as a human and a wolf. Meph was getting better, but he wasn't ready for the world yet. He was still too child-like. He played like a child. He expressed himself like a child. He saw the world through a child's eyes. He still had a long road ahead of him.
Eight months...
Gandrell's routines never faltered. Meals were on time, canvases replaced, rooms cleaned, lessons taught, sexual appetites satisfied, business handled via letter and phone, he was a machine the way he did it all. Then something happened that let him know he was doing everything right. Evangeline bled. She was terrified, but she let him help her. He taught her about the bathtub, how to get the water warm, and which soaps to use. He taught her about how to use products to absorb the blood. Excitement over, back to the daily routine.
After five years, Briar got a record deal that he made happen. Briar departed their little family to go on tour. Gandrell was proud of the woman she had become but was sad to be losing his companion. He never showed it, though. He was all smiles and excitement for her as she packed her bags. When the door closed behind her, he stayed in his room for the rest of the day. Vampire can't cry, but their hearts can, and his did.
He pushed through it, though, as he did everything. Meals were prepared, rooms cleaned, canvases changed out. Meph was going through long therapy sessions with him now, which usually ended with Meph storming out of the house and refusing to talk to him the rest of the day. Evangeline had her own therapy with her art. Gandrell never showed for a moment he was lost or unhappy; his life was about them. Meph spent ninety percent of his time angry at him, and Evangeline was terrified of him. These were some hard, lonely years for the vampire. But he whistled and danced through his misery, never showing the depth of his suffering.
Six years...
Seven years...
Eight years...
Nine years...
You would think Gandrell would have cracked up by now, but he just fell into his routine and didn't miss a beat. He had lost all prospects of his own life, merely existing to serve those who disdained him. Meph had just stormed out of another therapy session and was playing in the sand and water. Gandrell, trying to keep his sanity in check, gravitated to his violin. He hadn't played much since Briar left, but he was in the mood for a real emotional beating today. He felt like a failure. Nearly a lifetime had passed and Meph could barely face what happened to him, and the other werewolf who still wouldn't talk or sleep in her bed after nearly a decade. He was failing, and he knew it.
He took up his violin and turned sorrow and doubt into song. He released all his woes, troubles, and heartbreak into that song. As he played, he felt her. Evangeline was behind him, waiting for him, needing him? Gandrell brought the song to a dramatic end before lowering the instrument. At her greeting, he turned to face her. With a gentle smile, he replied, "Hello, Evangeline. Are you hungry?"
The violin was returned to its case, and the case was put away. He led her into the kitchen, and as they walked, he asked, "Do you have any requests for lunch?" He hadn't slept yet that day, the intensity of the day weakening him as his body was used to sleep at this time. But he showed zero signs of weakness. If Evangeline had a lunch request, he executed it perfectly, making more than enough for both werewolves to stuff themselves. As he cooked, he tried to engage Evangeline in conversation. "How are you liking your stay so far? Is there anything that you need or want?"
Briar had been along for the ride the entire time, but in a much different capacity. When Golden Crest had been attacked, she and one of the deltas, Rayna, had run as fast and as far as they could. They ended up in a town about an hour away, and Rayna had gone to bat for her defence with the Alpha of that town. Briar was set in a small dark room, where she paced for what felt like hours before someone had come. That someone had been another vampire, and although Briar was afraid at first, Gandrell proved to be very charming, and very sweet. She let him drink her blood to get a better understanding, or so he explained, but the main problem was she just didn’t understand what she was. And by this point, she had been forced to kill more than once, driven to desperation before she did it.
Still, being in Gandrell’s presence was easy. He was intelligent and kind, and kept her hopped up with enough blood that for the first time in months, she could actually think straight. Of course, when she did, massive guilt started to hit for what she did. She was able to pick out details of what she had done to them, and that was what haunted her. She spent the first five days in the glamorous hotel room, mostly hanging out in the bathtub and the warmth of the water she couldn’t quite seem to make seep into her skin. She slept for most of the day, or found a pen and a paper to start writing down her feelings when she found she couldn’t sleep. But as everybody did, once the party was moved to New York, Briar developed her own routines. The one thing that had been taken from her was given back.
Music. Briar was damn near made of music, and it became an easy way to keep the house calm, and practice. Often, her voice was heard in the halls, angelic, peaceful, beautiful. While she struggled, she did throw herself into work. And eventually, into Gandrell. She took him as a lover, and what a thorough one he proved to be. All over the house, they made love and music, and Briar came to grow somewhat dependant on him, seeking him out even just for conversation when her brain was going insane, and letting him take her to bed to shut it up for a while.
However, at the five year mark, this didn’t stop Gandrell from encouraging her to follow the record label deal. She was encouraged by him, but she was afraid to go on without him. He assured her she had no reason to be afraid, and that he would be here for her if ever she needed anything. On a final kiss, she left, but her heart sobbed and broke on the plane ride away from him, and her first album wound up being a lot about him, and how she missed him and how grateful she was to have and know him.
That left Eevee alone in the house with the two men, which is why the fifth year was her hardest. But she got through it. And the sixth. And the seventh. And the eighth. And finally the ninth. The ninth year was a big year. It was another hard year, but for much different reasons. It was hard because this was the year she got truly lonely. She’d never really felt lonely in her life, but she was. Yes, Gandrell came in every day to check on her, but because she refused to talk, there was never a conversation. There almost wasn’t again today, but she heard that sad violin. She hadn’t heard music much since Briar left, and it...called to her. It took still several attempts to get down the stairs and to the door, but the fresh air that greeted her made it worth it.
Her honey eyes watched Gandrell play. He didn’t outwardly look sad, but sad recognizes sad, and she was sure she could see something wearing on him. Not that she was brave enough to ever suggest it. She was nearly lost in his song when he turned, and he startled her. She took a step back on the whimper, but then stopped. No. This was why she came down. If she ran away now, all she’d be doing was proving to herself that she was nothing but a coward who had done no growing in the time she had been here. It would be clear there was some kind of emotional battle going on in her as she stood there, frozen as still as a statue. As always, Gandrell didn’t force or move her on his own. He let her relax and make the choice to continue following him, which was hard, and done with steps so light, non-vampiric hearing wouldn’t have picked them up.
His question made her eyes look up at him. He hadn’t asked her that before, at least not out-right. She assumed he just took a look and what she ate and what she didn’t seem to like and made a meal plan based off that. But to actually ask her made her pause and have the smallest ghost of a smile. “J....just the...the soup, please.” The answer was incredibly quiet, but it was indeed an answer. Eevee liked soups. She always ate them, and they didn’t make her feel too full or a little sick when it was too much. At night, when the wolf was more awake, she tended to eat more, but never much during the day.
As he fixed it, she watched him. She’d never made it this far before, and sat coiled on the stool, unsure if she was ready to run or not. Gandrell’s voice, though, kept her grounded. Her big brown eyes blinked when he asked her how she was enjoying her stay, or if she needed anything. She shook her head ‘no’ initially, but then seemed to stop to think. It was a quiet minute as she seemed to contemplate something, but quietly, her mouth opened again as she looked directly at the vampire for the first time. “I....I, Gandrell, I....” She paused, breathed, gathered herself once more, and tried again. “I-I wanted to thank you.....for what you did. I never have, not truly. You saved m-my life that day.” But it was something that she thought of. Her dreams had shifted now, so that she could take the power back from Ric and the Golden Crest, but there was a memory she had never been able to get rid of. The sight of him like a bloody Angel above her. “A-and also, f-for letting me stay here. I know I haven’t been....easy, I’m sure. B-but you do it. E...every day. I want to thank you for that. And for the....for the moments yet to come. Whatever t-they may be.”
Was she ready to heal? She felt like she was, but that was because she didn’t know how else to process. She didn’t know how intense therapy could be, but even if it wasn’t easy, the genuine feeling she had overall remained the same. Her gratitude was palpable, even if it was rare. Nobody really knew how long the moment of bravery might last before the girl bolted one more, so she tried to complete the thought, even as her heart and anxiety started to rise again, even if it made her words a little quicker. “ T-to answer the question, I...I’m ready to try....being....out of my room. Not the house, but...my room at least. If you might....have a suggestion?”
Still, being in Gandrell’s presence was easy. He was intelligent and kind, and kept her hopped up with enough blood that for the first time in months, she could actually think straight. Of course, when she did, massive guilt started to hit for what she did. She was able to pick out details of what she had done to them, and that was what haunted her. She spent the first five days in the glamorous hotel room, mostly hanging out in the bathtub and the warmth of the water she couldn’t quite seem to make seep into her skin. She slept for most of the day, or found a pen and a paper to start writing down her feelings when she found she couldn’t sleep. But as everybody did, once the party was moved to New York, Briar developed her own routines. The one thing that had been taken from her was given back.
Music. Briar was damn near made of music, and it became an easy way to keep the house calm, and practice. Often, her voice was heard in the halls, angelic, peaceful, beautiful. While she struggled, she did throw herself into work. And eventually, into Gandrell. She took him as a lover, and what a thorough one he proved to be. All over the house, they made love and music, and Briar came to grow somewhat dependant on him, seeking him out even just for conversation when her brain was going insane, and letting him take her to bed to shut it up for a while.
However, at the five year mark, this didn’t stop Gandrell from encouraging her to follow the record label deal. She was encouraged by him, but she was afraid to go on without him. He assured her she had no reason to be afraid, and that he would be here for her if ever she needed anything. On a final kiss, she left, but her heart sobbed and broke on the plane ride away from him, and her first album wound up being a lot about him, and how she missed him and how grateful she was to have and know him.
That left Eevee alone in the house with the two men, which is why the fifth year was her hardest. But she got through it. And the sixth. And the seventh. And the eighth. And finally the ninth. The ninth year was a big year. It was another hard year, but for much different reasons. It was hard because this was the year she got truly lonely. She’d never really felt lonely in her life, but she was. Yes, Gandrell came in every day to check on her, but because she refused to talk, there was never a conversation. There almost wasn’t again today, but she heard that sad violin. She hadn’t heard music much since Briar left, and it...called to her. It took still several attempts to get down the stairs and to the door, but the fresh air that greeted her made it worth it.
Her honey eyes watched Gandrell play. He didn’t outwardly look sad, but sad recognizes sad, and she was sure she could see something wearing on him. Not that she was brave enough to ever suggest it. She was nearly lost in his song when he turned, and he startled her. She took a step back on the whimper, but then stopped. No. This was why she came down. If she ran away now, all she’d be doing was proving to herself that she was nothing but a coward who had done no growing in the time she had been here. It would be clear there was some kind of emotional battle going on in her as she stood there, frozen as still as a statue. As always, Gandrell didn’t force or move her on his own. He let her relax and make the choice to continue following him, which was hard, and done with steps so light, non-vampiric hearing wouldn’t have picked them up.
His question made her eyes look up at him. He hadn’t asked her that before, at least not out-right. She assumed he just took a look and what she ate and what she didn’t seem to like and made a meal plan based off that. But to actually ask her made her pause and have the smallest ghost of a smile. “J....just the...the soup, please.” The answer was incredibly quiet, but it was indeed an answer. Eevee liked soups. She always ate them, and they didn’t make her feel too full or a little sick when it was too much. At night, when the wolf was more awake, she tended to eat more, but never much during the day.
As he fixed it, she watched him. She’d never made it this far before, and sat coiled on the stool, unsure if she was ready to run or not. Gandrell’s voice, though, kept her grounded. Her big brown eyes blinked when he asked her how she was enjoying her stay, or if she needed anything. She shook her head ‘no’ initially, but then seemed to stop to think. It was a quiet minute as she seemed to contemplate something, but quietly, her mouth opened again as she looked directly at the vampire for the first time. “I....I, Gandrell, I....” She paused, breathed, gathered herself once more, and tried again. “I-I wanted to thank you.....for what you did. I never have, not truly. You saved m-my life that day.” But it was something that she thought of. Her dreams had shifted now, so that she could take the power back from Ric and the Golden Crest, but there was a memory she had never been able to get rid of. The sight of him like a bloody Angel above her. “A-and also, f-for letting me stay here. I know I haven’t been....easy, I’m sure. B-but you do it. E...every day. I want to thank you for that. And for the....for the moments yet to come. Whatever t-they may be.”
Was she ready to heal? She felt like she was, but that was because she didn’t know how else to process. She didn’t know how intense therapy could be, but even if it wasn’t easy, the genuine feeling she had overall remained the same. Her gratitude was palpable, even if it was rare. Nobody really knew how long the moment of bravery might last before the girl bolted one more, so she tried to complete the thought, even as her heart and anxiety started to rise again, even if it made her words a little quicker. “ T-to answer the question, I...I’m ready to try....being....out of my room. Not the house, but...my room at least. If you might....have a suggestion?”
Soup. An extremely easy request. When they arrived in the kitchen Evangeline perched on a stool as he headed for the stove. He turned on the burners and placed a large pot on the burner. He then went to the refrigerator and took out a carton of whole milk and poured some into a glass before he put it back and opened the freezer. He had frozen a half gallon of gumbo stock the last time he made some just for moments like these. Usually, gumbo took six to eight hours to make, but using the frozen stock would allow him to have it ready within the hour. He located the container and snatched it up. With the frozen gumbo in one hand and the glass of milk in the other, he slowly approached Evangeline and placed the milk in front of her. He winked and turned away from her to go to the sink. He ran cool water over the container, allowing the gumbo mix to start to melt. Once he was satisfied, he went back to the refrigerator and pulled out chicken, shrimp, crawfish tails, and sausage.
Gandrell was such a confident cook that it appeared that he danced all over the kitchen. The way he added ingredients was as elegant as an artist applying paint to a canvas. He used his nose as he couldn’t consume any of the food. He was finicky about the texture, adding flour and seasonings to ensure it was the perfect level of thickness. He also put on a pot of white rice. It was a sin to eat gumbo with no white rice. As the gumbo melted and married and the rice cooked, he was startled to hear her speak to him. He kept his composure, not wanting to discourage her in any way. But as she spoke, he turned to look at her and patiently waited for her to say all that she desired to. A smile pulled at his pale lips and his head cocked, letting her know her thanks touched him. Once she was finished, he was happy to fill in the silence with his chatty way. He had held back his urge to talk continuously, as he didn’t think she was quite ready for him to open the flood gates. But…why not try it now? It might help her.
As he stirred the large pot he said in his slow, southern way, “You have thanked me, Evangeline. You thank me every day that you get out of bed and eat your food, and paint your pictures, and stare out at the ocean. You thank me by living. Not many would have your strength or courage. I appreciate you.” He smelled the gumbo once more and laughed with joy, “And we have love! For that is what gumbo is.” He got out a large bowl, filled the bottom with rice and then served her a serving big enough to feed two humans. He placed the bowl in front of her and thought about her comment about her not being easy. He had another soft smile on his lips as he said sincerely, “I have to do my tasks every day. Maybe not for you so much. I think you would actually be just fine if I wavered in my routine. But,” Gandrell motioned towards the back windows where Meph was romping around. “I cannot deviate because of him. Believe it or not, my dear, he was worse that you were when I found him.”
Yes, Meph was his opus. The collection of all his many talents and knowledge. “I have had him with me for eighty years now, and he still has the mind of a nine-year-old boy. Not intellectually, mind you. He is smarter than most immortals. But I cannot make him grow emotionally. He is stunted. It’s like his brain is refusing to allow his emotional side to grow to protect it somehow. I am at a loss.” There was the sadness in Gandrell’s eyes again as he gazed in the direction of the closest thing he would ever have to a son. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he confessed, “He needs another wolf to help him grow. I have done all that I can.” His eyes rested on Evangeline and with a smile said, “I don’t expect that wolf to be you, my dear. You have your own path. I will find him someone one day. I don’t think he’s ready for that anyway.”
Gandrell started to clean the kitchen and wash everything, but the pot with the additional soup and Evangeline’s bowl as she was still eating. He needed to change the subject. Bring up something happy for her. “The house is yours to explore as you wish. There is always food in the refrigerator or in the ice box. There is a radio in the living room. A television in the den. Books in every room on the first floor. There are couches, chairs, tables, and lamps for you to curl up and read. You are also welcome to bring your paints and canvases down here and set up an area you want to claim as your own. Whatever you want, it’s yours. No need to ask permission. It is already given to you.”
The day was starting to get to Gandrell. The sun was almost midway in the sky, and he felt so weak he wondered if he should just take his nap in the pantry, his bed might just be too far away by this point. But he was stronger than he was weak and continued talking to her. “The house is the quietest usually between eleven am and four pm when I sleep. It is almost noon now and I am going to need to leave you soon. However, Meph usually stays outside until around five pm when I have dinner ready for him. So, if you wish, you may stay down here for the next few hours. Explore. Nothing is off limits to you. But for now, my dear, I really must lay down or else I might collapse. Enjoy your soup. That’s how us Cajuns say ‘we love you’.”
Gandrell left the wolf perched on her stool with her requested bowl of soup. He let her see which room was his, in case she needed him. It was not impossible to wake Gandrell from his daytime slumbers. Only not the most pleasant. When he slept, he, quite literally, died. His body took no breath. His muscles fully relaxed. He was, for lack of a better word, was a corpse. He vanished inside the pitch-black room, stripped off his clothes, and climbed into his massive bed. He was asleep in seconds. He hated leaving Evangeline alone, but this was necessity.
Meph was out playing in the sand. It seemed he felt like building a sandcastle today. His technique and skill were incredible, though he looked like a small child in a man’s massive body as he went about the construction. He would be busy out there for hours, so she was in no danger of being disturbed if she wished to wander the house or go sit on the patio by the pool.
The mansion was lavish and luxurious. It boasted every creature comfort known to man. From plush, velvety couches, to over-stuffed leather chairs. Quilts made my careful hands draped over the backs of those couches. There was a bar in the den next to the tv that held all kinds of expensive spirits from wine to whiskey. The rooms were decorated in a warm welcoming way. Despite the elegance, the rooms didn’t feel like a room where you weren’t allowed to touch anything. Quite the contrary. The furniture begged for someone to curl up on them. The quilts called for cuddles. The books yearned to be read just as the radio wished to full the house with music and the tv with laughter. It was, obviously, a rich person’s home. But it was no museum. Everything she would come across would feel like it just could be a normal home.
Gandrell was such a confident cook that it appeared that he danced all over the kitchen. The way he added ingredients was as elegant as an artist applying paint to a canvas. He used his nose as he couldn’t consume any of the food. He was finicky about the texture, adding flour and seasonings to ensure it was the perfect level of thickness. He also put on a pot of white rice. It was a sin to eat gumbo with no white rice. As the gumbo melted and married and the rice cooked, he was startled to hear her speak to him. He kept his composure, not wanting to discourage her in any way. But as she spoke, he turned to look at her and patiently waited for her to say all that she desired to. A smile pulled at his pale lips and his head cocked, letting her know her thanks touched him. Once she was finished, he was happy to fill in the silence with his chatty way. He had held back his urge to talk continuously, as he didn’t think she was quite ready for him to open the flood gates. But…why not try it now? It might help her.
As he stirred the large pot he said in his slow, southern way, “You have thanked me, Evangeline. You thank me every day that you get out of bed and eat your food, and paint your pictures, and stare out at the ocean. You thank me by living. Not many would have your strength or courage. I appreciate you.” He smelled the gumbo once more and laughed with joy, “And we have love! For that is what gumbo is.” He got out a large bowl, filled the bottom with rice and then served her a serving big enough to feed two humans. He placed the bowl in front of her and thought about her comment about her not being easy. He had another soft smile on his lips as he said sincerely, “I have to do my tasks every day. Maybe not for you so much. I think you would actually be just fine if I wavered in my routine. But,” Gandrell motioned towards the back windows where Meph was romping around. “I cannot deviate because of him. Believe it or not, my dear, he was worse that you were when I found him.”
Yes, Meph was his opus. The collection of all his many talents and knowledge. “I have had him with me for eighty years now, and he still has the mind of a nine-year-old boy. Not intellectually, mind you. He is smarter than most immortals. But I cannot make him grow emotionally. He is stunted. It’s like his brain is refusing to allow his emotional side to grow to protect it somehow. I am at a loss.” There was the sadness in Gandrell’s eyes again as he gazed in the direction of the closest thing he would ever have to a son. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he confessed, “He needs another wolf to help him grow. I have done all that I can.” His eyes rested on Evangeline and with a smile said, “I don’t expect that wolf to be you, my dear. You have your own path. I will find him someone one day. I don’t think he’s ready for that anyway.”
Gandrell started to clean the kitchen and wash everything, but the pot with the additional soup and Evangeline’s bowl as she was still eating. He needed to change the subject. Bring up something happy for her. “The house is yours to explore as you wish. There is always food in the refrigerator or in the ice box. There is a radio in the living room. A television in the den. Books in every room on the first floor. There are couches, chairs, tables, and lamps for you to curl up and read. You are also welcome to bring your paints and canvases down here and set up an area you want to claim as your own. Whatever you want, it’s yours. No need to ask permission. It is already given to you.”
The day was starting to get to Gandrell. The sun was almost midway in the sky, and he felt so weak he wondered if he should just take his nap in the pantry, his bed might just be too far away by this point. But he was stronger than he was weak and continued talking to her. “The house is the quietest usually between eleven am and four pm when I sleep. It is almost noon now and I am going to need to leave you soon. However, Meph usually stays outside until around five pm when I have dinner ready for him. So, if you wish, you may stay down here for the next few hours. Explore. Nothing is off limits to you. But for now, my dear, I really must lay down or else I might collapse. Enjoy your soup. That’s how us Cajuns say ‘we love you’.”
Gandrell left the wolf perched on her stool with her requested bowl of soup. He let her see which room was his, in case she needed him. It was not impossible to wake Gandrell from his daytime slumbers. Only not the most pleasant. When he slept, he, quite literally, died. His body took no breath. His muscles fully relaxed. He was, for lack of a better word, was a corpse. He vanished inside the pitch-black room, stripped off his clothes, and climbed into his massive bed. He was asleep in seconds. He hated leaving Evangeline alone, but this was necessity.
Meph was out playing in the sand. It seemed he felt like building a sandcastle today. His technique and skill were incredible, though he looked like a small child in a man’s massive body as he went about the construction. He would be busy out there for hours, so she was in no danger of being disturbed if she wished to wander the house or go sit on the patio by the pool.
The mansion was lavish and luxurious. It boasted every creature comfort known to man. From plush, velvety couches, to over-stuffed leather chairs. Quilts made my careful hands draped over the backs of those couches. There was a bar in the den next to the tv that held all kinds of expensive spirits from wine to whiskey. The rooms were decorated in a warm welcoming way. Despite the elegance, the rooms didn’t feel like a room where you weren’t allowed to touch anything. Quite the contrary. The furniture begged for someone to curl up on them. The quilts called for cuddles. The books yearned to be read just as the radio wished to full the house with music and the tv with laughter. It was, obviously, a rich person’s home. But it was no museum. Everything she would come across would feel like it just could be a normal home.
It had taken Eevee nine years to gather the courage to verbally thank him, and she almost lost her nerve halfway through anyways. She said nothing else to him, having lost pretty much all the nerve after getting it out. She fell silent once more, watching as Gandrell made her the most delicious soup. She wanted to ask him so many questions, but nothing beyond her initial greeting came out. Luckily, she didn’t seem to be required to speak more, as Gandrell took over the silence. She’d never heard him speak so much, but his voice was lovely. She was glad that he felt how much she meant her small words, and she felt a little easier as she listened to his every word, but her honey eyes moved with his towards the back window. She stilled, seeing Meph there, and for a moment, her breath grew shallow, having him even this close.
Why she was so scared of him, she didn’t fully know, especially as Gand went on to explain that his emotional state was still very fragile. Other than his size, there was really no reason to be afraid of him, and yet, she still couldn’t make herself go over there and talk to him. Then again, it had taken her nine years to say more than whimpers to Gand, so miracles couldn’t be expected today. Still, for just a moment, she watched Meph playing in the sand. She’d never done that. Just...played. She wasn’t sure she even knew how. It made her sad in its own way. She was glad of the distraction of soup as he slid the spicy, beautiful bowl of soup infront of her, turning her attention to it and back to him.
She wasn’t sure what he meant by she might be alright, but she had learned, at minimum to trust him. She ate slowly while she nervously played with the ends of her hair, watching him as he cleaned up the kitchen around them, telling her all the things she was welcome to do, but that he would need to leave her for a little while. She had noticed every day for the past nine years that there was a four to five hour period where the house was literally, dead silent. She had always wondered why, even when Briar was here. She smiled lightly at him, and watched him as he walked down the hall. She took a mental note of where his room was, but felt no need to go in there while he slept. Instead, Evangeline slowly ate her soup, letting the spice and warmth move through her system, filling her with...what had he called it? Love.
Of course, not the romantic kind of love, but any love she thought she might have felt, from anywhere, wasn’t like this. As she looked down into the warm and made just for her soup, she felt a tremble through her body. Before she realized it, she was tearing up over this bowl of soup, and the vampire who made it. She felt ridiculous, and happy and scared all at once. Maybe it was the soup, maybe it was the fact she had finally made it downstairs. Whatever it was, it left this bubble in her chest that felt....okay. Slowly, she finished her big bowl of soup, and her glass of milk, although it did take quite a while for her. It always did, but she always got through it. She knew from her...before chores how to do the dishes, so she washed her dishes when she was done, and set them in the tray, not quite knowing where they went.
After that, she didn’t know what to do. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, listening to the sounds around her. For 15 minutes, she just stood there, debating between staying down here and running back upstairs. Twice, she even moved her foot to run, but then she asked herself what was she running from. It turned into a thirty minute struggle before she moved, but she didn’t run back upstairs. She kept her breathing shallow as she walked quietly out of the kitchen, still checking corners without realizing it before she rounded them. When the first hour was over, Evangeline touched the first object in the house. It was a book, which she almost grabbed before she realized that she wasn’t sure she’d actually be able to read it. Reading hadn’t been much of a focus over the past nine years. Art had. Art....
Evangeline’s honey eyes then moved to the big glass windows, where beyond, the view was absolutely incredible. She stepped towards it quietly, her eyes taking in the colours. Looking back over her shoulder, and down the hall, she thought about Gand’s words. She looked between the stairs and the view a few more times. Could she go up there and have the courage to come back down? She stayed at the window a while longer, and then she did go back upstairs. She gathered her canvass, and her supplies, even grabbing one of the floor protectors. She held it in her arms, and stepped to the doorframe. There, she stopped. She could do this, right? She could...casually hang out downstairs. She could do it.
.....She couldn’t do it. The longer she stood there, the scarier the prospect was. She’d just been down there, happily eating, but now the hallway seemed as long as a football field or five, and it was wavy with anxiety. Instead, she slowly sat down at the edge of her doorframe, trying to breathe her way through it. She even tried to force herself to do it, which actually just made it worse. She retreated further into the room, panting lightly as she backed until she was under her window. There, she stayed, her knees curled into her chest. She didn’t know what happened. She was fine, she was good, and then she wasn’t. Was that normal? Was that right? Why was this so hard? Her stomach was tight as she rocked lightly back and forth, staring straight at the open door, trying to figure out what had changed. And why it had changed so quickly.
Why she was so scared of him, she didn’t fully know, especially as Gand went on to explain that his emotional state was still very fragile. Other than his size, there was really no reason to be afraid of him, and yet, she still couldn’t make herself go over there and talk to him. Then again, it had taken her nine years to say more than whimpers to Gand, so miracles couldn’t be expected today. Still, for just a moment, she watched Meph playing in the sand. She’d never done that. Just...played. She wasn’t sure she even knew how. It made her sad in its own way. She was glad of the distraction of soup as he slid the spicy, beautiful bowl of soup infront of her, turning her attention to it and back to him.
She wasn’t sure what he meant by she might be alright, but she had learned, at minimum to trust him. She ate slowly while she nervously played with the ends of her hair, watching him as he cleaned up the kitchen around them, telling her all the things she was welcome to do, but that he would need to leave her for a little while. She had noticed every day for the past nine years that there was a four to five hour period where the house was literally, dead silent. She had always wondered why, even when Briar was here. She smiled lightly at him, and watched him as he walked down the hall. She took a mental note of where his room was, but felt no need to go in there while he slept. Instead, Evangeline slowly ate her soup, letting the spice and warmth move through her system, filling her with...what had he called it? Love.
Of course, not the romantic kind of love, but any love she thought she might have felt, from anywhere, wasn’t like this. As she looked down into the warm and made just for her soup, she felt a tremble through her body. Before she realized it, she was tearing up over this bowl of soup, and the vampire who made it. She felt ridiculous, and happy and scared all at once. Maybe it was the soup, maybe it was the fact she had finally made it downstairs. Whatever it was, it left this bubble in her chest that felt....okay. Slowly, she finished her big bowl of soup, and her glass of milk, although it did take quite a while for her. It always did, but she always got through it. She knew from her...before chores how to do the dishes, so she washed her dishes when she was done, and set them in the tray, not quite knowing where they went.
After that, she didn’t know what to do. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, listening to the sounds around her. For 15 minutes, she just stood there, debating between staying down here and running back upstairs. Twice, she even moved her foot to run, but then she asked herself what was she running from. It turned into a thirty minute struggle before she moved, but she didn’t run back upstairs. She kept her breathing shallow as she walked quietly out of the kitchen, still checking corners without realizing it before she rounded them. When the first hour was over, Evangeline touched the first object in the house. It was a book, which she almost grabbed before she realized that she wasn’t sure she’d actually be able to read it. Reading hadn’t been much of a focus over the past nine years. Art had. Art....
Evangeline’s honey eyes then moved to the big glass windows, where beyond, the view was absolutely incredible. She stepped towards it quietly, her eyes taking in the colours. Looking back over her shoulder, and down the hall, she thought about Gand’s words. She looked between the stairs and the view a few more times. Could she go up there and have the courage to come back down? She stayed at the window a while longer, and then she did go back upstairs. She gathered her canvass, and her supplies, even grabbing one of the floor protectors. She held it in her arms, and stepped to the doorframe. There, she stopped. She could do this, right? She could...casually hang out downstairs. She could do it.
.....She couldn’t do it. The longer she stood there, the scarier the prospect was. She’d just been down there, happily eating, but now the hallway seemed as long as a football field or five, and it was wavy with anxiety. Instead, she slowly sat down at the edge of her doorframe, trying to breathe her way through it. She even tried to force herself to do it, which actually just made it worse. She retreated further into the room, panting lightly as she backed until she was under her window. There, she stayed, her knees curled into her chest. She didn’t know what happened. She was fine, she was good, and then she wasn’t. Was that normal? Was that right? Why was this so hard? Her stomach was tight as she rocked lightly back and forth, staring straight at the open door, trying to figure out what had changed. And why it had changed so quickly.
Gandrell slept like the dead for four and a half hours. This was the only real peace he got. In his deathly slumber, he got a break from that empty feeling inside him. He was able to separate himself from the feeling of loss and loneliness. It was a wonder he didn't allow himself to sleep more, but he had too much to do. He had two broken souls to heal. His efforts so far had been poor at best, but he was trying to give them what they needed.
Meph had smelled the gumbo cooking as he built his sandcastle. When he looked over his shoulder, he had seen the girl from upstairs in the kitchen with Gandrell. Her presence kept him outside and busy. Just as she was afraid of him, he was afraid of her. Women had never been kind to Meph. He had a natural aversion to them now.
Gandrell was very cautious if he ever brought a woman home. He would keep her out of sight so as not to upset Meph. Briar, being in the house for five years, had kept Meph mainly outside. Meph would sit in the same room with her, but that was only to listen to her sing. And when he did that, he was usually in wolf form.
The moment Evangeline had gone back upstairs, Meph had scampered into the house and served himself a large bowl of gumbo with extra rice. He took the food back outside just in case the girl came back downstairs. He savored the soup and ate every grain of rice. He even went back for seconds before he was satisfied.
When Gandrell woke from his daily nap, he listened for a moment. The house was utterly still. He heard Meph outside still building his sandcastle and, if he reached with his ears, he could detect Evangeline's heartbeat back up in her room. He hoped she would have taken advantage of the many comfortable rooms. In time, she would get there.
He climbed out of his bed and dressed. He ran long, pale fingers through his messy hair, making it stand up as if glamorously messy was a thing. He was in blue jeans and a gray t-shirt with no shoes or socks. He exited his bedroom and went outside to check on Meph. He found the empty bowl and picked it up. He checked out Meph's work and praised him. The vampire then sat a little away from the giant child and started a conversation. It was more therapy. Gandrell was trying a method of seeing if Meph would talk while his hands were busy.
Meph got farther in the story than he normally did before freaking out. One second, he was concentrating on putting detail into a castle wall and talking about a time when he was a knight. Gandrell knew the story. He had found it in the history books along with a sketch of the very man who played in the sand before him. Meph was getting close to that point in the tale where he would be killed and steered the conversation away from that moment. He engaged Meph about dinner, and Meph requested steak. Gandrell stood up and went to his friend. He kissed him on the top of his head and said he would have to run to the store to get the steaks. As Gandrell walked back towards the house, he heard Meph singing the songs he had sung just before he was shot in the heart and throat with arrows.
Gandrell went into the house, washed Meph's bowl, and packed away any remaining gumbo. He then went to his room and put on socks and shoes. He then made his way upstairs. He made sure his footfalls were heavy enough that she would hear him coming. Surprising her was not his intention. He knocked on the doorframe before he stepped just inside her room. "Meph requested steaks for dinner. I was also thinking of picking up some lobsters, too, for fun. I know you wolves like to tear things apart and eat them. But... I was going to offer if you wanted to join me for the ride. You don't have to accompany me into the store if you aren't comfortable, but I thought a ride might be nice."
Meph had smelled the gumbo cooking as he built his sandcastle. When he looked over his shoulder, he had seen the girl from upstairs in the kitchen with Gandrell. Her presence kept him outside and busy. Just as she was afraid of him, he was afraid of her. Women had never been kind to Meph. He had a natural aversion to them now.
Gandrell was very cautious if he ever brought a woman home. He would keep her out of sight so as not to upset Meph. Briar, being in the house for five years, had kept Meph mainly outside. Meph would sit in the same room with her, but that was only to listen to her sing. And when he did that, he was usually in wolf form.
The moment Evangeline had gone back upstairs, Meph had scampered into the house and served himself a large bowl of gumbo with extra rice. He took the food back outside just in case the girl came back downstairs. He savored the soup and ate every grain of rice. He even went back for seconds before he was satisfied.
When Gandrell woke from his daily nap, he listened for a moment. The house was utterly still. He heard Meph outside still building his sandcastle and, if he reached with his ears, he could detect Evangeline's heartbeat back up in her room. He hoped she would have taken advantage of the many comfortable rooms. In time, she would get there.
He climbed out of his bed and dressed. He ran long, pale fingers through his messy hair, making it stand up as if glamorously messy was a thing. He was in blue jeans and a gray t-shirt with no shoes or socks. He exited his bedroom and went outside to check on Meph. He found the empty bowl and picked it up. He checked out Meph's work and praised him. The vampire then sat a little away from the giant child and started a conversation. It was more therapy. Gandrell was trying a method of seeing if Meph would talk while his hands were busy.
Meph got farther in the story than he normally did before freaking out. One second, he was concentrating on putting detail into a castle wall and talking about a time when he was a knight. Gandrell knew the story. He had found it in the history books along with a sketch of the very man who played in the sand before him. Meph was getting close to that point in the tale where he would be killed and steered the conversation away from that moment. He engaged Meph about dinner, and Meph requested steak. Gandrell stood up and went to his friend. He kissed him on the top of his head and said he would have to run to the store to get the steaks. As Gandrell walked back towards the house, he heard Meph singing the songs he had sung just before he was shot in the heart and throat with arrows.
Gandrell went into the house, washed Meph's bowl, and packed away any remaining gumbo. He then went to his room and put on socks and shoes. He then made his way upstairs. He made sure his footfalls were heavy enough that she would hear him coming. Surprising her was not his intention. He knocked on the doorframe before he stepped just inside her room. "Meph requested steaks for dinner. I was also thinking of picking up some lobsters, too, for fun. I know you wolves like to tear things apart and eat them. But... I was going to offer if you wanted to join me for the ride. You don't have to accompany me into the store if you aren't comfortable, but I thought a ride might be nice."
Silently now, Eevee sat under the windowsill. She listened to the sounds of the ocean for a few hours, letting it calm her as she breathed as evenly as she could. About an hour later, she managed it, at least to the point of looking at the window. Then slowly, she crawled to it, and watched the activities on the beach. Although she was terrified of Meph, she had grown used to seeing him there, and watching him. She still sat on her pillow covered balcony each night to watch the sunset. And on nights of terror, she also watched the sun come up there. She went there now, for at least her body would be more comfortable, and she was more than high enough up that he wouldn’t notice her.
Outside on this balcony was also a small table, a small light for nighttime drawings, her pillows and blankets. There was a chair out here too, which she did on occasion use, but she found she preferred to sit with the pillows. If she got tired, sometimes she would just lay down and go to sleep in the warmth of the sun. She wrapped herself in one of the light, warmed by the sun blankets, letting it soothe her as she watched the other werewolf, and wondered once more, what it would be like to just play. There was a lot of things she knew, including her beautiful artwork, but...she didn’t know how to play. Watching him, she drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping herself entirely in that blanket, and laid her head on her knees. She thought of what Gandrell had told her, and despite not knowing how, still wanted to help. The fact remained though, that Eevee wasn’t ready. She just wasn’t.
She calmed again over the next couple of hours, and she must’ve even drifted off, because she was laying down rather than sitting up when she opened her eyes again. When she did, she registered that Gandrell was now sitting with Meph on the beach, and it almost made her curious what they were talking about. However, that was none of her business, and she had to pee. Pushing herself up, she went to the bathroom, used it, washed her hands, and out of new habit, brushed out her long, long hair. She half wondered if she should ask to cut it, because it was so heavy, but immediately balked at the idea as she heard heavy footfalls coming up the stairs. She set the brush down and stepped out of her bathroom, meeting Gandrell’s eyes as he knocked lightly, and stepped into the room.
Initially, she just thought that he was coming to inform her he wasn’t going to be in the house, as he had done many times before. Assuming this, she nodded to the acknowledgment, but then he continued and it surprised her. She stopped in the middle of her movements, blinking several times at him as she thought that through. Leave the house? That was a big, big step. She’d barely made it down the stairs, and now....out of the house? A few times, her mouth opened and closed, trying to form an answer between ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Finally, she nodded a little, and first stepped forward, realized she didn’t have shoes, got a pair of shoes, and then nodded again. Carefully, with only a slight tremble to her breath, she followed him to the garage, as slow of a process as it was.
Twice, she nearly ran back to her room, and it took a minute to convince herself to actually step out into the garage. It was the same conversation to get her into a shiney black convertible (top down) with blood red interior leather. The steering wheel was black leathet and dash would all be chrome. He had the radio turned to the hits of the day, which made Eevee smile. She really liked music, especially after the first five years with Briar.
She jumped only a little bit when the car actually started to move her away from the safety of the house, but then she remembered who was driving the car. She wasn’t going back, she was just going for a ride. This, she repeated to herself over and over again, even as she started to let herself watch the sights, the whizzing lights, and all the other cars around them. Her heart was still very quick the entire experience, but to her own shock, she didn’t crawl under a blanket in the backseat when someone looked over at her. She did, however, whimper a little and look away.
The store, which was yet another conversation with herself on if she even wanted to go inside of it, was an Irish meat market (he likes to support the Irish). There were some grocery goods but mostly just a very large counter where you place your orders and then, ten to fifteen minutes later, someone's comes out of the back with the order wrapped in white paper. He ordered four, thick cut, 20ounce ribeyes, and although she was with him, Evangeline stayed very close to Gandrell, almost enough to be touching but not quite there. She was fascinated with the people, the choices, the set up, but when her heart neared leapt into her throat and out of her mouth when she thought she lost Gand for a moment kept her directly at his side.
They then went down the street to a fish market where he purchased 2 eight pound lobsters and a dozen scallops. Eevee enjoyed the fish in the tanks, but was a little sad to see all the little headless ones. At the same time, she was also strangely hungry as she watched the butchers around her do their jobs. All in all, despite the fact her heart never truly calmed down, and she didn’t go more than a few inches from Gandrell, she enjoyed their little trip to the market. She hadn’t spoken a word the entire trip, answering any question asked either with thought or physical cues, such as nodding, but still, she was something near smiling on the way back. When they pulled back into the garage, though, Eevee did take the first easy breath since they left, knowing she was back in her safety.
Following Gand inside, she hovered in the space between the stairs and the kitchen, trying to decide which way she should go. The safety and peace of her room did call to her, but the willingness to go outside had given the girl just a little bit of courage. Unsure of how long it would last, and knowing she could run away at any time, Eevee’s small feet eventually turned towards the kitchen, although she hesitated in the frame, quietly checking to see where everyone was before she decided if she would enter.
Outside on this balcony was also a small table, a small light for nighttime drawings, her pillows and blankets. There was a chair out here too, which she did on occasion use, but she found she preferred to sit with the pillows. If she got tired, sometimes she would just lay down and go to sleep in the warmth of the sun. She wrapped herself in one of the light, warmed by the sun blankets, letting it soothe her as she watched the other werewolf, and wondered once more, what it would be like to just play. There was a lot of things she knew, including her beautiful artwork, but...she didn’t know how to play. Watching him, she drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping herself entirely in that blanket, and laid her head on her knees. She thought of what Gandrell had told her, and despite not knowing how, still wanted to help. The fact remained though, that Eevee wasn’t ready. She just wasn’t.
She calmed again over the next couple of hours, and she must’ve even drifted off, because she was laying down rather than sitting up when she opened her eyes again. When she did, she registered that Gandrell was now sitting with Meph on the beach, and it almost made her curious what they were talking about. However, that was none of her business, and she had to pee. Pushing herself up, she went to the bathroom, used it, washed her hands, and out of new habit, brushed out her long, long hair. She half wondered if she should ask to cut it, because it was so heavy, but immediately balked at the idea as she heard heavy footfalls coming up the stairs. She set the brush down and stepped out of her bathroom, meeting Gandrell’s eyes as he knocked lightly, and stepped into the room.
Initially, she just thought that he was coming to inform her he wasn’t going to be in the house, as he had done many times before. Assuming this, she nodded to the acknowledgment, but then he continued and it surprised her. She stopped in the middle of her movements, blinking several times at him as she thought that through. Leave the house? That was a big, big step. She’d barely made it down the stairs, and now....out of the house? A few times, her mouth opened and closed, trying to form an answer between ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Finally, she nodded a little, and first stepped forward, realized she didn’t have shoes, got a pair of shoes, and then nodded again. Carefully, with only a slight tremble to her breath, she followed him to the garage, as slow of a process as it was.
Twice, she nearly ran back to her room, and it took a minute to convince herself to actually step out into the garage. It was the same conversation to get her into a shiney black convertible (top down) with blood red interior leather. The steering wheel was black leathet and dash would all be chrome. He had the radio turned to the hits of the day, which made Eevee smile. She really liked music, especially after the first five years with Briar.
She jumped only a little bit when the car actually started to move her away from the safety of the house, but then she remembered who was driving the car. She wasn’t going back, she was just going for a ride. This, she repeated to herself over and over again, even as she started to let herself watch the sights, the whizzing lights, and all the other cars around them. Her heart was still very quick the entire experience, but to her own shock, she didn’t crawl under a blanket in the backseat when someone looked over at her. She did, however, whimper a little and look away.
The store, which was yet another conversation with herself on if she even wanted to go inside of it, was an Irish meat market (he likes to support the Irish). There were some grocery goods but mostly just a very large counter where you place your orders and then, ten to fifteen minutes later, someone's comes out of the back with the order wrapped in white paper. He ordered four, thick cut, 20ounce ribeyes, and although she was with him, Evangeline stayed very close to Gandrell, almost enough to be touching but not quite there. She was fascinated with the people, the choices, the set up, but when her heart neared leapt into her throat and out of her mouth when she thought she lost Gand for a moment kept her directly at his side.
They then went down the street to a fish market where he purchased 2 eight pound lobsters and a dozen scallops. Eevee enjoyed the fish in the tanks, but was a little sad to see all the little headless ones. At the same time, she was also strangely hungry as she watched the butchers around her do their jobs. All in all, despite the fact her heart never truly calmed down, and she didn’t go more than a few inches from Gandrell, she enjoyed their little trip to the market. She hadn’t spoken a word the entire trip, answering any question asked either with thought or physical cues, such as nodding, but still, she was something near smiling on the way back. When they pulled back into the garage, though, Eevee did take the first easy breath since they left, knowing she was back in her safety.
Following Gand inside, she hovered in the space between the stairs and the kitchen, trying to decide which way she should go. The safety and peace of her room did call to her, but the willingness to go outside had given the girl just a little bit of courage. Unsure of how long it would last, and knowing she could run away at any time, Eevee’s small feet eventually turned towards the kitchen, although she hesitated in the frame, quietly checking to see where everyone was before she decided if she would enter.
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