Chapter 1

I don't know exactly where this is going. I just started writing and...voila!

The rain that had persisted to pour constantly for the past week was relentless. Falling from the black clouds with such malice, the sheets of water seemed to attack anyone foolish enough to venture into the streets of Dijon. These foolish people were, however, few and far between. In fact, there were only two people stood outside and the rain appeared to be missing them by at least a metre each way.
�When can we end this?� asked the taller of the two; a man speaking with a voice roughened by cigarettes.
The two figures stood on a cobbled path that snaked its way over the grass and around the trees and hedges to provide an easy route for anyone wanting to cross the overgrown park. The trees cast shadows all around but the moonlight was determined and crept through gaps in the leaves, illuminating the two people and destroying their cover of darkness and rain.
The second figure turned slowly to look at the man. The gentle moonlight illuminated the shimmering gold hair that fell freely down her back and, as she turned her head, the waterfall of molten gold whipped round over her right shoulder and gently brushed her pale neck. Her piercing green eyes surveyed the man with curiosity and her plump, red lips curved themselves into an ominous smile.
�Be patient, Darson� said the woman, in a soft, quiet voice. �We have not long left to wait. Besides, the rain may be an inconvenience at present but, rest assured, it will be beneficial in the long term.�
�I didn�t mean the rain,� Darson began. �I meant-�
�I know what you meant,� the woman interrupted. �And my answer remains the same; we must wait.�
�I know,� sighed Darson, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his coat pocket and placing one between his clenched teeth. �But the waiting is so infuriating. I want to take action.�
�Your kind always do,� stated the woman, simply, turning back to gaze up at the moon, as she had been doing previously. She looked uncomfortable under the moon�s glare and, as Darson watched, her teeth seemed to be growing to points. Darson did not want to aggravate the woman and so chose to leave her comment without a retort. Instead, he quickly changed the subject to something less contentious.
�There�s something I�ve always wondered,� he began, lighting his cigarette and offering the pack to the woman, who lifted her hand in declination. �Robinson?� He said the name with a note of question in his voice. �English, aren�t they? The Robinson family I mean.�
The woman smiled again. Her smile was inexplicably disturbing whilst being remarkably alluring at the same time. Perhaps it was the contrast of red lips, white skin and gold hair which gifted her with a unique beauty that could not be matched. Her green eyes remained fixed on the moon.
�Families marry,� she said, by way of response and, when Darson still looked confused, she added �my mother is Fran�aise. As a child, I learnt both the language of my mother and my father. Besides,� she looked to Darson, once more, �my name is not entirely English.�
�I don�t know your first name,� Darson said, almost apologetically.
�Dominique,� answered the woman, and turned back to the moon.
Minutes passed without a further vocal exchange between the two as Darson began to smoke a second cigarette and Dominique continued to stare at the moon as if sizing up a potential adversary. The wind was blowing the leaves of the trees and pulling the branches directions in which they clearly did not want to be pulled. The two were, however, protected from the wind by the same magical shield that was providing them refuge from the downpour. Dominique was glad of this; the mass of hair that cascaded down to her waist was difficult enough to maintain in fair weather conditions let alone torrential rain and gale force winds. She moved a hand to her right shoulder and touched her golden hair with a long, pale finger, feeling the radiating heat from the maintenance and shielding spells that she had cast on it earlier. She smiled at the thought of her own skill, her now fully pointed teeth exposed.
Being less comfortable with long silences than Dominique, who was actually quite fond of silence, Darson was the first to strike up a new conversation.
�How are your family keeping?� he asked, finishing his second cigarette and stubbing it out on the damp cobbles.
�Well,� replied Dominique. She sighed. �But they are tired.� She closed her eyes and began to softly shake her head. �Everyone is tired.�
�But, you said it yourself,� Darson began, �we�ve not long left now. That�s what you said,� he paused. �Isn�t it?�
Dominique looked back to the man on her left and began to scrutinize his appearance. His face was drawn and almost as pale as hers though the colour did not appear natural on him; a man whose complexion was usually so tanned and whose hair was so dark. There were dark bags under his eyes and his hair was infected with patches of grey. He had been aged terribly by recent events and, now, he looked desperate.
�Isn�t it?� Darson was insistent. Dominique sighed again.
�I do not anticipate we will have to wait for much longer. However, I did not anticipate we would have to wait even this long. Yet, here we are; stood outside in the rain and the wind - even if we are protected - waiting for something, anything to happen that will justify our efforts thus far.� Dominique paused before adding, more softly, �I am sorry, Mr. Darson, but I have no more to offer you by way of explanation or comforting. Now, please, smoke another cigarette and be quiet. I believe our third party has arrived.�
Unbeknown to Darson, whilst Dominique had been speaking, there had been a shift in the direction of the wind somewhere behind a nearby tree, alerting Dominique if not himself to the sudden appearance of a tall, dark haired man in a smart, grey suit covered by a long, grey travelling cloak. Dominique had noticed this purely because she had been focussing on this very point as the leaves began to move the other way. As well as this, her hearing was far superior to any human�s and even changes in the wind did not go by her undetected.
Upon his initial arrival, the man had been dry but, as the wind and rain claimed him, what little hair he had was plastered to his head and his cloak billowed around his legs such that he seemed in danger of being tripped up by it. As he approached, Dominique felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She had waited for over an hour for this man and, at times, had worried that he was not going to come or else that he was unable to.
As he got closer, Dominique could see the man�s face: his smile despite the awful weather; the creases around his eyes as they, too, smiled. Her fears seemed to melt away at the sight of him. This was a man who filled her with comfort and who could put her at ease without a word. She smiled as the man entered the shield, its magical energy increasing to accommodate him, encompassing a larger area of grass.
�My darling, Dominique,� said the newcomer, smiling broadly and holding out his arms to the woman.
�Grandp�re,� whispered Dominique and ran into his outstretched arms, wrapping her own around him and hugging him tightly. The man gently patted her back and smoothed her hair for a moment before the two broke apart and Dominique, seeming to regain her composure and professionalism, spoke.
�This is my grandfather,� she said to Darson, by way of introduction.
�Jack Robinson,� said the man, extending a hand.
�A pleasure,� said Darson, taking Jack Robinson�s hand and shaking it somewhat half-heartedly. �I�ve heard so much.�
�Only good things I hope,� said Jack with a curious look to Dominique.
�Is everyone well?� Dominique asked, quickly changing the subject in a way, it was evident, she had been wanting to since Jack�s arrival.
�As well as can be expected,� sighed Jack. �Victoire is no better; all day in bed. Your father is getting worse. I didn�t want to leave him tonight, given the circumstances,� he glanced up at the moon and exhaled loudly, �but your mother insisted.� Jack looked back at Dominique who had been watching him with childlike fascination despite the professionalism she should have been exhibiting. �She worries about you,� Jack finished with a look that suggested that he, too, worried about Dominique. �How are you?� he asked.
�Fine,� Dominique answered. �Just fine. But-� she paused. �Well, it�s just, however distant I am from a certain one of my father�s genes, the moonlight still makes me�uneasy.�
Absentmindedly, Dominique lifted a finger to her mouth and began to test the sharpness of her teeth. Jack watched her looking nervous and, upon noticing his attention was directed at her, Dominique stopped and smiled. �I am fine,� she said. �Do not worry, grandp�re. Now, tell me; how is my mother?�
�Better,� replied Jack, �now that your grandmother and I are looking after Louis. He�s at that age, you know? And your mother feels that her time is better spent caring for Victoire and your father and helping the Fighters. Not that she doesn�t love Louis, of course,� he added. �In fact,� he continued, �it�s because she loves him that she decided to send him to us. He deserves someone who is there for him every hour of the day and, right now, your mother cannot guarantee that.�
�Understandable,� Dominique conceded. �And how does Louis seem to be coping with all of this?�
�Well. As far as I can tell, at least. He�s a terror but all five year olds are.� Jack smiled. �You were the same at his age.� Dominique returned the smile and gazed upon the face of her grandfather. Like Darson, he too had aged of late and his red hair was growing thinner and wispier than usual. The wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead had become more pronounced and Dominique could finally see that her grandfather was, indeed, an old man.
�And Victoire is no better?� she asked, her heart still full of questions, about her family, that she longed to have answered before they were swept away in talks of business.
�Sadly, no,� Jack replied. �Your sisters are constantly at her bedside and helping your mother but the doctors have done all that we can let them do without risking exposure.�
�Exposure of what?� Dominique asked, the anger in her voice rising.
Jack moved towards his granddaughter and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. �Dominique,� he said, �you knew there was a risk of this. No one wants to accept it but she could be-�
�I know what she could be,� interrupted Dominique, �but so what? So what if she is? We shouldn�t have to hide her,� she was almost shouting, and had shook Jack�s hand off of her shoulder in favour of pacing the interior of the magical shield which seemed to have grown to accommodate her desire to move around within its walls. �Just like we shouldn�t have to hide my father.� Dominique stopped and turned to look at her grandfather. �Your own son,� she whispered. �How can you stand back while this deception continues? He is not a free man because you keep him locked up in that stupid house. Because you won�t fight. No wonder he�s getting worse; anyone would go crazy in that house every hour of every day. Why can�t you let him out?�
�It�s not that simple,� Jack began.
�Yes, it is,� Dominique quipped. �How is it not?�
�It�s dangerous, Dominique.� Jack sighed. �The whole world is dangerous.�
�You think I don�t know that?� Dominique asked. �If you think that, you patronise me, grandp�re.� She walked right up to Jack and lifted her face to his until they were almost nose to nose. �I know what dangers we face. I know it far better than you. Surely, the length of time that you have been pretending has not caused you to forget what you have been hiding� She pulled up her sleeve so that her forearm was visible to Jack.
From where he was stood, Darson could not see what Dominique was showing to Jack. He did, however, see Jack�s eyes widen in terror before he hastily pulled the sleeve back down to cover up Dominique�s right arm.
�Are you crazy?� he hissed. �If you know the dangers then why are you so reckless?�
�We can trust Darson,� said Dominique with a glance over her shoulder to where he stood, smoking another cigarette. �And even if we can�t, what do I care? People will find out sooner or later. The truth will come out.�
�No,� muttered Jack and then, louder, �No!�
�Yes, grandp�re, yes! Secrets never remain secret for long.� Dominique turned away from her grandfather and approached Darson. �I would rather a secret be revealed when I choose and not have it revealed by someone else on my behalf when I cannot be in control of the situation.�
�Dominique,� pleaded Jack.
�I know how you feel, grandp�re. I know you preferred Victoire�s approach. She was always the more passive and less reckless.� Dominique turned and let out one hollow laugh. �You�re stuck with me, now. You�re all stuck with me!� She let out another laugh. It made her sound almost insane �How tragic for you.�
Jack stared into the eyes of his granddaughter. She, too, had been changed by recent events but her change was more below the surface; her mind had changed. This change worried Jack more than his hair loss. Dominique had become unpredictable and dangerous and, in her position, those qualities could prove lethal for more than just her.
�You are just as good as Victoire,� he said in an attempt to comfort Dominique.
�Don�t patronise me with your lies!� Dominique screamed, her pointed teeth bared. �Do you really expect me to believe that?�
�Yes,� Jack shouted back, �because it�s the truth.�
�The truth?�
�You just said yourself that the truth always comes out.�
�Yes, I did,� Dominique mused, �so tell it.�
�What?� Jack asked, taken aback.
�The truth,� said Dominique, simply. �Tell me the truth.�
�I just-�
�The truth!� she yelled. �Now!�
Jack swallowed. It worried him, also, that Dominique had become so perceptive. It was almost as if she was inside his mind and he knew that her mother had remarked on this, too. Normally, this would have been an incredibly useful trait however, with Dominique the way she was at present, it simply made her even more dangerous.
�Alright,� Jack said, softly, �so maybe I did prefer Victoire�s methods-�
�Ha!� exclaimed Dominique, triumphantly.
�But, you�re right, we have you now and me wanting Victoire back, when she is in no fit state to do anything, is counterproductive.�
�You are despicable,� spat Dominique.
�You don�t mean that.�
�You won�t fight for your own family,� Dominique shouted, clenching her fists so that her nails, which, like her teeth, had formed themselves into points, broke the skin. Blood trickled, from the fresh cuts on her palms, across her fingers and down to the floor, splattering scarlet on the grass. �What kind of man are you?�
�Dominique,� whispered Jack, pleading once again.
�You don�t deserve to live.�
Jack drew in a sharp breath and the terror that he felt could be seen on his face as his mouth fell open and his eyes widened. Dominique advanced on him, fists still clenched and tongue dancing across her teeth. Her mouth had pulled itself into a manic smile and her pupils had dilated such that the colour of her iris was no longer visible.
�I deserve to live,� Dominique said. �And I�ll fight. I�ll fight for my family.� She stopped, just short of Jack and leant her face forward so that her mouth was next to his ear. �And,� she whispered, �if necessary,� Jack gulped, �I�ll fight my family.�
Jack didn�t have time to scream. Dominique pushed him to the floor with inexplicable strength and force and, jumping on top of him, ripped his throat out with her sharpened teeth. Jack was dead, instantly.
Fear rooted Darson to the spot. He watched, transfixed, as Dominique chewed on the flesh that she had removed from her grandfather. He wanted to run, wanted to scream for help but his mind seemed to have been cut off from every other part of his body except the eyes which were still fixed on Dominique as she stood shakily and wiped the blood from around her mouth.
�Will you speak of this to anyone?� she asked Darson, calmly. However, when he did not reply, her calmness evaporated. �Well?� she screeched, rounding on him. �Will you?�
�No,� Darson said, shaking his head as he did so. �No, of course not.�
Dominique sighed. �Then you are less of a man than I thought,� she said quietly. She lifted her head and took one last look at the moon before turning to Darson. �I think you should take me to prison, now,� she said and, using her own handcuffs which were dangling from her belt, she attached her wrists together and followed Darson out of the magical shield which disappeared, leaving the previously protected grass at the mercy of the persistent rain and wind.

Reviews

[JRB]

enjoyable read, nice write,
Jan/uisiom

[Nathan Thompson]

I was right

[Forist.johnston]

What a delightful gothic tale! I felt like I was standing next to them in their shield. Great writing, can't wait to read chapter 2!