Dark Stone - In Search Of The Jewel
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual places, events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
Tossing the leather jacket over the headrest of the passenger seat, he slipped behind the wheel of the black Porsche. Guiding the key into the ignition, a turn of the wrist, the vehicle came to life. As the car moved down the drive he glanced up into the rear view mirror. The darkened silhouette of the house now stood behind him. Just one of many bastions he had established in his life. Standing dark and still in the moonlight. It was now his fortress, his refuge.
The long winding driveway flowed through a canopy of trees and brush. Beams of moonlight dancing amongst them. The Porsche accelerated, the sound of its engine disrupting the creatures of the night along its path. Eyes once concealed by the darkness were adapting to the light of the headlights as they pass. The air was brimming with all the redolence of a cool May evening. The driver took a deep breath. He held it long enough for the ambiance of the night to heighten his senses. Exhaling, he steered the Porsche onto the road that would lead him to downtown Carrington Ridge.
He had spent the last couple of months renovating the old farmhouse. Sitting alone deep in the woods, peaceful and isolated. Carrington Ridge Virginia, a sleepy little town along the Appalachian mountains, was just miles away. A refreshing distraction from the pandemonium that big cities bring. He had lived all over the world, Frankfurt, Milano, Cairo, the list went on and on. Too many large cities and not enough time between them. Jareth had spent time in smaller towns, but none like Carrington Ridge. The others had never given him the sense of ‘home’ as this one did. For far too long his life had been all encompassed by the charge that was given him. Far too long he traveled the world, focusing only on the quest. Constantly seeking out the next elusive piece of the puzzle. No one knew how long his mission would last, it could take a month, a year, a lifetime.
Jareth noticed the twinge of hunger rising up from within him, confusion seeped into his brain. He had eaten before he left just minutes before. And yet as he steered the Porsche through the fog rolling off the banks of the river, the hunger was becoming undeniable. In the blink of an eye his demeanor changed. No longer were his thoughts on the little town, the farmhouse or his search for pieces to a prophetic puzzle. They turned dark and malignant, he was losing control. Suddenly he was unable to repress the natural instincts that sat dormant inside him for years.
The Porsche raced ahead as he pushed his foot down on the accelerator. Through the open window air rushed passed, carrying along with it, all the fragrances of the night. An ambrosial bouquet of earth, water and fire were encircling his nostrils. His heightened senses were intensifying his need, now at a fever pitch. It was a glorious night to be alive. Just as the thought broke through his consciousness he saw them ahead. There in the distance, barely visible through the fog, the rhythmic yellow flashing of hazard lights. A smirk crossed his face as he steered the Porsche ahead. Moments later it sat behind the disabled vehicle alongside the road.
“It’s my lucky day.”
Jareth opened the door of the Porsche and stepped out. Through the heavy mist he surveyed the situation before taking a second step. A short blond sat in the drivers seat. She had glanced up as his vehicle pulled behind hers. Her fingers strummed nervously on the steering wheel as he strode up to the drivers side door. Bending at the waist he looked into the disabled car, he motioned for her to lower the window. The smell of fear was building, her heart started thumping loudly in her chest. Pressing the button on the arm rest she allowed the window to come down about three inches. Jareth leaned closer to the now partly open window. “Can I call someone for you?”, showing her the cell phone in his hand.
Her eyes looked up through the open gap in the window at the cell phone. Her brain tried to assess the situation. Trying to determine the likelihood that the man brought help and not danger. A moment later she was transfixed by the dark stranger’s eyes peering through the window. She could not force herself to look away, finding herself lost within the depth of them. His once blazing blue eyes had turned to black. His voice turned gruff almost a growl.
“Open the door and get out,” he compelled her.
She obeyed the command, never taking her eyes from his. Jareth reached into the car, turned off the lights and switched the engine off. The car now sat hidden by the darkness and fog.
“You will be coming with me,” he said as he grabbed a hold of her wrist. The young girl followed as he turned to the wooded area beside the vehicles parked alongside the road. Jareth’s anger flared as the girl started stumbling and falling as he dragged her through the backwoods. At times he pushed her ahead of him, forcing her deeper and deeper into the darkened forest. One last push and she fell hard against the trunk of a large tree.
No longer being compelled she was paralyzed with fear. He stood over her, watching as she cowered beside the tree crying.
“Please, please don’t hurt me.”
She started to tremble, the smell of terror dripped from her every pore. Kneeling down beside her he ran his hand over her cheek, then down the side of her neck.
“Please don’t..”, she coiled away from his touch. His teeth extended as he watched the pulsation of blood flowing through the veins in her neck. Her heart was racing, it excited him even more. He ran his tongue over the tips of his teeth. A rush of unadulterated blood lust went through his body. His lips curled back from his teeth as he looked into the young blond’s eyes. She screamed as he grabbed her by the hair, lifting her with one hand. He propelled her up against the tree behind her. In a flash he was on her. Forcing her head to the side, he exposed her neck. Jareth’s head jutted back and then lunged forward, teeth ripping into the tender skin. His razor sharp fangs punctured with ease. She couldn’t fight him off, he was a vicious animal and she was his prey. The blood started flowing, taste of human blood running over his tongue, down his throat. It had been so long. He was in the midst of a feeding frenzy, relishing each drop of liquid life. The girl suddenly gave up the struggle, going limp in his arms. Jareth’s instincts told him to continue to feed, drain every drop of blood from her body.
Jareth heard rustling in the tree above him. Looking skyward he forced himself to focus on the object sitting on the highest limb. Two large yellow eyes gazed down at the scene below. A deep whistling sound came from the white owl as it locked eyes with Jareth’s. Jareth found his teeth retracting, his eyes once again turned blue. Within a blink of an eye owl lifted itself from the limb and flew off into the night. A short gasp brought Jareth’s mind back from what seemed like a daydream seen in slow motion.
His thoughts came back to the girl in his arms, still alive. Laying her on the ground he stepped over her and started pacing. Looking at her crumbled body turned his stomach. What had he done? How could he have done this after years of denying the urge to feed on people? His mind was racing and he had to regain control of his thoughts. He needed to make a decision on what to do next.
Jareth heard a moan come from the body on the ground in front of him. Kneeling down, he cradled her in his arms. Cupping her chin with one hand, he turned her head to see the damage he had inflicted. The two puncture marks on her neck. Her arms and legs were bruised from where he had dragged her through the brush. She had a deep gash on her shoulder from hitting the tree. All these things could be healed. Still cradling the young blond in his arms he forced his teeth to extend once again. Bringing his arm to his mouth he sank his teeth deep into his forearm. As his blood started to drip from the two small holes, he lifted them to her mouth.
“Drink”, he said as he watched her sup on his blood. After minutes the self inflicted trauma on Jareth’s arm started to heal.
Jareth heard the girl’s heart start to race once again. Before she could scream, he once again looked into her eyes. His eyes turned to black, his voice turned deep, harsh, powerful. Using the gift of persuasion, he left her believing she was completely safe with him. He watched as each of her wounds closed, as each bruise became lighter and then disappeared. Once she was healed he helped her to her feet. He took her up in his arms and ran quickly back to their vehicles. Jareth gently set her down next to her car.
“Get into your vehicle, lock the doors and turn on your hazard lights. You will have absolutely no memory of anything that has transpired from the time your car broke down.”
Before turning away Jareth ran his hand over her cheek, “I am so sorry.” In a blur he was gone.
Standing by his car Jareth stopped and watched the girl slip into the drivers seat of her car. He heard the locks click in to place and watched as the hazard lights appeared. As he slid into the drivers seat of the Porsche he took the cell phone from his pocket and pushed a button.
“Yes, I would like to report a disabled vehicle on Heaton Road, it’s sitting near mile marker 141 heading East.” The dispatcher at the Sherri’s office thanked him and wished him a good evening as he turned off his phone.
The clock on the instrument panel of the Porsche showed it was 11:45. Jareth pressed down on the accelerator. Glancing up he noticed his reflection in the rear view mirror. The man gazing back at him made him sick. How could he have been so cruel? What had coerced him into throwing away years of abstinence from drinking human blood? It was as if he had been possessed. Why wasn’t he able to stifle the urge as he had done a million times before? The metallic taste of her blood lingered within his mouth and throat. He could already feel his body responding as if every cell within him was being rejuvenated.
The Porsche slowed as it turned on to Main Street, most of the shops long closed for the day. Jareth perused the stores sitting on either side of the street as he drove by. He hadn’t had the chance to check out what the little town of Carrington Ridge had to offer. The renovations on the farmhouse left him very little time for sightseeing. And after centuries of living he knew that keeping a low profile was for the best. He had ordered supplies off the Internet or ventured out to the larger towns dotting the map around Carrington Ridge. Jareth slowed the car further as he passed the antique store, noticing the light coming from the windows above the store. A woman’s silhouette stood centered in the frame of the window. Her head turning, following his vehicle, as it passed.
Lisette turned away from the window and walked toward the easel set across the expanse of her studio. Her eyes scanned the canvas, but her mind wanted to wander. The large open room had long ago become her sanctuary. Surrounded by her art, she paced the expanse again. Her eyes moved around the room, taking inventory of hundreds of paintings. Each piece a page documenting a moment in time. As they say: “A picture is worth a thousand words.” Around her stood volumes upon volumes, hundreds of stories. Her finger ran over a small painting sitting against the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room.
Each brush stroke helping to describe the scene, each color coalescing into the next, a word. Lifetimes of memories surrounded her. Stepping to the desk she ran her hand over the sketchpads piled on its corner. Melancholy swept over her as she lifted the cover. Taking it from its resting place she sat down at the window seat by the window. Setting the pad across her knees she gently raised the black cover. A small smile came to her face as she touched the image on the first page. It was a sketch of her parents. She had drawn it as they sat together on the little porch swing last spring. Their hands entwined as they sat shoulder to shoulder. Her father had been such a nice looking man, the sheriff of Carrington Ridge. Sitting next to him was the prettiest woman in town, her mother. Lisette’s eyes started to tear, she placed two fingers to her lips and then onto the page. Closing the sketchpad, she held it tight to her chest. Looking across the room she saw the sketched image painted onto canvas. She missed them so much.
Just as Lisette started to rise from the window seat her cell phone rang. Glancing at her watch, it was almost midnight. The only person who would call Lisette at such an hour was her best friend Charlotte.
“Hey Lis, I figured you were still at the shop. Do you want to come over for a nightcap?”
Lisette knew Charlotte would never take no for an answer. Even though it had been a long day she agreed to meet for just one drink.
“I’ll meet you there in a few, but just one drink okay?”
She closed the cell phone and tucked it into the pocket of her sweater. Reaching out she touched the canvas in front of her. As if opening a book, she stood frozen, reading the page before her. A smile broke onto her face.
“A picture is worth a thousand words,” she said out loud as she moved to the door and turned off the lights.
Lisette caught her reflection in a large mirror as she turned toward the door of the little shop to leave. A long look brought back those feelings –. She was alone, totally alone in the world. No one would miss her if she just dropped off the face of the earth. She had no one to grieve for her absence. It just was not fair to have to lose so much, everyone she ever loved, gone. Her days were spent at the little shop selling antiques, her evenings in the room above. All she had now was the shop, the little house on Oak street and her art. A small smile crossed her face, “I will not be alone for much longer.”
Stepping onto the sidewalk Lisette turned to lock the door behind her. She stopped and looked to her left and then to her right. All of the small shops that sat along Main Street were now closed. Except for Joe’s Grill which sat next to Bijou’s Antiques. Walking toward the Carrington House she gave a quick glance inside Joe’s as she passed. People were sitting at tiny booths with their hands wrapped around coffee cups. Joe stood behind the counter, throwing up his hand in a gesture of “hello” as she passed by. Across the street she noticed that Sam, the editor/owner of the Carrington Ridge Gazette, was standing in the window of his office. Glancing up Lisette waved and watched as Sam waved back. She felt his eyes watching her as she walked down the sidewalk toward the bar.
An unexpected gust of cold wind suddenly blew by her. Lisette pulled her sweater tightly around her and kept walking. Maybe leaving her car parked in front of the shop wasn’t the best of ideas. Lisette let her mind wander as she continued to walk. It wasn’t such a bad town, it definitely had some good things to offer. The people were nice, a bit nosy at times for her liking. But wasn’t it like that in all small towns? Carrington Ridge had been her families home for generations. Her family now all buried in the Old Carrington cemetery, just a few miles up the road. She glanced up the road and a sense of sadness filled her. In a couple weeks it would be a year since she lost her parents. She made a mental note to take flowers to the cemetery.
Walking by the parking lot she noted Charlotte’s little silver VW parked next to a shiny black Porsche. Lisette stood in front of the tall brick building with neon beer signs in each window. The Carrington House was a nice little place where you could go for a beer or glass of wine. It offered pool tables in the back room, a small dance floor by the bar. A neighborhood bar where you could sit and listen to gossip for hours at a time. She was sure that her family had been the topic of many conversations there. It wasn’t that long ago people stopped her on the street giving condolences and pressing for details. Now she was just the girl who lost her parents to a serial killer. Running up the steps she reached for the door handle –.
Just minutes before Jareth had entered the Carrington House.
“Good evening Jareth, please join me,” came from a man sitting at a table in the darkened recess of the main room. The words never crossed his lips, but Jareth heard them loud and clear. Telepathy, a perk obtained by the ancients. He walked by the four couples dancing to the jukebox on the other side of the room. Deacon shot a quick glance out the small window to his left. He needed to be somewhere else soon, always needed to be somewhere else.
Deacon was a curious looking little man. In his late seventies when he had been turned. He was as big around and his stood tall, so it seemed. Deacon wore a lifetime before a lifetime on his face. The Circle trusted Deacon to be a judicious minion. He took his job very seriously and his duties as messenger was one he held for centuries. Never had Deacon missed a meeting or even been late to one. In his day punctuality was a sign of respect. One thing that all ancients demanded was respect. Few wanted to suffer the consequences of angering an ancient.
The Elders Council and the Assembly made up the members of The Circle. The Assembly was made up of ‘the virtuous: Javion, the Eternal One; Alexandra, the Protector of humanity; Kronos, the Keeper of Time; Panacea, the Goddess of Healing and Hemera, the Goddess of Daylight and Sun. The Elders Council included: Jaakobah, the Deceiver; Abidan, the Father of Judgment; Alvah, the Immortal; Morana, the Goddess of Death and Winter and Lamia, the evil spirit who abducts and devours children. Deacon was 1500 years old, an ancient. But his life had just begone compared to some of these immortals. Eons of existence, centuries upon centuries of keeping the balance between good an evil. And yet recently the balance had shifted, Cassandra’s prophecy would one day come to fruition. The sides were drawn, those who would do anything to make the prophecy be realized. And those who would do anything to thwart it. As the Seeker Jareth had to walk a fine line between good and evil. In the supernatural world everyone, everything, had its purpose. His was to follow Cassandra’s clues, doing whatever needed to achieve the ultimate mission, to bring vampires into the light of day.
The old man pushed a glass of red wine across the table. Jareth settled into the seat across from him, taking a long sip he set the glass on the table.
“Thank you, my old friend.”
“So why have I been summoned may I ask?”
The aged white haired man reached into his pocket, pulling out a white envelope. Jareth’s name was written on the front in an elaborate script. He handed it to him with just a hint of a smile, “It’s a message from the Circle. Do not open it now, make sure you destroy it after reading it.” Jareth knew exactly what he meant and why Deacon had to repeat it every time they met was beyond him.
“Just doing his job,” he thought to himself.
“Yes Jareth, just doing my job,” Deacon’s eyes glistened as he spoke without opening his mouth to speak.
Jareth leaned over and put the envelope in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. He knew that whatever it said, it probably wasn’t good. At the very least it would be another deciphering of the prophecy. If nothing else, it would be a distraction from the hiatus he was given from ‘work’. Deacon stood and held out his hand to Jareth.
“I will be seeing you soon, remember what I said about the envelope.”
With that, he shook his hand. Walking across the dance floor he opened the door and was gone. Jareth glanced out of the window beside him and saw a blast of wind rush by.
“Spry old goat for as old as he is.”, he said as he picked up his drink.
Jareth looked around the room as he sipped the wine from the glass in front of him. He was about to stand to leave when his senses zeroed in on the bar door. Easing back into his seat he watched the newest patron. He watched as the raven haired beauty hesitated and glanced around the room. Even at this distance he could clearly see, she had the most amazing eyes. Her scent was wafting through the room. It cut through the smoke and remnant odors of everyone who had passed through the bar. It was like nothing he had ever breathed in before. It was a mix of scents that made his brain surge and ebb like a tide along the shore. Never in his lifetime, and he had been ‘around the block’ more than a few times, had he encountered that scent. She had the face of an angel. Her beauty, her scent, mesmerized him.
Something over the bar distracted Jareth from eavesdropping on the conversation between the raven haired beauty and her friend. A flash of red bolted across the bar sized mirror behind the bar.
He lowered his eyes and focused his attention on the wine in his glass.
He rolled it around the lip of the glass, watching it fall back into the center. He heard footsteps coming toward him. He glanced up in time to see them sit at the table across from his. The raven haired beauty sat facing him, her friend with strawberry blond hair sat between them. Jareth concentrated on turning off the numerous noises and conversations inside the bar. He wanted to hear the conversation at the next table.
“Lisette, I am so glad you came.”
“Just one drink Charlotte, it’s late and I am tired.”
“Oh Lissy you never want to have any fun.”
Charlotte motioned to the waitress. She started to ramble on about her week, filling Lisette in about her life. That’s what best friends do. A true test of friendship is often tested by how long you can look like you are involved in a conversation. Lisette took a sip from her drink and looked across the room. Lots of the Friday night regulars were mulling around. A few people were still on the dance floor. Just as she started to focus on the one-sided conversation with Charlotte, her eyes met his. She thought for sure she felt her heart skip a beat. Her eyes were drawn to two blazing blue eyes. Eyes that would melt any woman’s heart. His dark shoulder length hair. She found herself letting out a short gasp of air. She was sure that no one heard it, she barely heard it herself. She tried to look away, focus on something else, someone else. But something wouldn’t let her. He looked up from his drink flashing her a wide smile. His gaze was almost burning through her. His features were like chiseled stone, his teeth pearl white and set between lips the color of red roses. Hence, the second little gasp that she found escaping from her lips. The blood rushed to her cheeks and she found herself blushing.
“Lis?”, Charlotte said turning around to see what had Lisette’s undivided attention. The only thing visible, an empty wine glass.
“Where did he –?”, Charlotte questioned while turning back to the table. Lisette’s eyes quickly scanned around the room. He was gone.
“Well, that is the weirdest thing, you saw him right? Tall, not quite so dark and awesomely handsome?” Charlotte pointed a finger back at the table.
“Who?”, Lisette gave Charlotte a quizzical look.
“I have no idea what you are talking about Charlotte. It is getting late, I really need to get home.”
After finishing their drinks, the two women stepped out of the bar. Lisette walked Charlotte to her car. As Charlotte sat down behind the steering wheel, a cool brisk wind gusted by.
“Let me give you a ride to your car Lis, you shouldn’t be walking alone this late at night.”
“It’s two blocks away Charlotte, I’ll be fine.”
Lisette gave her friend a kiss on the cheek and closed the door. She watched as Charlotte drove down Main Street. Lisette pulled her sweater around her and turned. Before her, not three feet away stood the dark stranger from the bar. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight.
“A beautiful woman should not be walking alone at this time of night,” Jareth smiled, Lisette took a step backwards. Holding out his hand he introduced himself, “My name is Jareth Dunstan.”
“Why would I allow someone I’ve never met walk me anywhere?”, she said before she could stop herself. A sudden chill ran down her spine. Her brain told her to walk back into the bar. Something else would not allow her to move. She awaited his reply.
“Good point. Just wishful thinking on my part.”
“The moment you walked into the bar I knew that I had to get to know you. Do you know how ravishingly beautiful you are?”
After searching his eyes for what seemed like a lifetime, Lisette took a step forward and put out her hand. “My name is Lisette Bijou, do you use that line on all the girls that you try escort to their vehicles?” She found herself enjoying the feeling of butterflies starting to flutter in her stomach.
Jareth took her hand in his, looking into her eyse he waited for the reaction she would give to the temperature of his touch. Instead he was pleasantly surprised to hear her ask for him to escort her to her car. They slowly started walking toward the antique shop where she had left her car.
“I take it your family owns Bijou Antiques?”, he questioned her.
Lisette gave a shy smile, “It was, now it’s just me. My parents died almost a year ago.” She found herself leaning into him as they walked. Just a block away a couple came out the door of Joe’s Grill. They walked down the block and turned on to a side street.
“I am so sorry to hear of your loss. Death is so tragic for those left behind.”
“Would you do me the honor of allowing me to buy you a cup of coffee? It seems that the short walk was simply not enough time.” Jareth looked down at her, showing her those gorgeous blue eyes. Once again she could not tell him no. “I would love to have a cup of coffee with you, Mr. Dunstan.”
They walked to the door at Joe’s, Jareth opened it with a slight bow and an “after you.” Lisette walked across the room and slid into a booth in the far corner of the room. She glanced at her watch, almost one o’clock in the morning. Joe’s was open until three o’clock on Fridays and Saturdays. He did a great business with the locals who were patrons of the Carrington House. Joe Taylor was the proud proprietor of Joe’s Grill. As with Lisette, the grill was handed down to the Taylor families only son, Joe. A really likable guy, he was a couple of years older than Lisette. He had asked Lisette out a few times throughout the years. Joe just wasn’t what Lisette was looking for. It was like she knew exactly what she wanted in a man, and Joe just did not fit the bill. They were friends and Joe kept an eye on Lisette while she was at the shop. Especially now that her parents were gone.
Lisette and Jareth sat across from each other in the little booth. They both turned the coffee cups on the saucers on which they sat. A signal to Joe that they would like coffee. Joe came over and poured them each a cup.
“Hiya Lisette, can I get you anything else? Maybe a slice of pie for you and your friend?” he smiled and glanced at Jareth. Lisette threw up a hand, “None for me Joe, just coffee.”
Jareth took a sip of hot coffee from his mug, “Just coffee for me also, maybe next time on the pie.” Lisette could have sworn she saw an actual twinkle in his eye. Joe walked away so he could service another table. Jareth and Lisette sat across from each other and talked like they had known each other forever. He found her fascinating and intriguing. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He found himself watching her movements, almost in slow motion. She had a natural grace that showed in every move she made. The way she turned her head just the slightest bit when she was asking a question. Or the way she gently put her hair behind her ear. The conversation was multifaceted, they talked about anything that happened to come to mind. And yet both noticed that they were more than content to just be sitting across from each other. The physical chemistry between them, like nothing neither had ever felt.
Jareth and Lisette sat in the tiny booth and talked until closing. Thanking Joe for the coffee, they wished him a good morning, before stepping onto Main Street. They continued to walk to Lisette’s car parked in front of the small antique shop. They both stood beside her car for a few moments, neither wanted the other to leave. Jareth opened the car door and Lisette slid behind the wheel. As he closed the door Lisette lowered the window. Jareth reached out a hand to her, through the window she lifted hers to him. Kissing the back of her hand he said, “Miss Bijou, I do hope to see you very soon.”
“I have a feeling it will be much sooner, than later, Mr. Dunstan.”
Jareth watched as Lisette drove into the night. As he turned to walk back to the Carrington House and his car, something caught his eye. Suddenly all of his senses started to tingle. There was someone watching him. His eyes quickly scanned the street and then the buildings surrounding him. His eyes focused on a window on the top floor of the Carrington Ridge Gazette. Jareth started to walk back to his car, “I am a vampire, and even I think that is just creepy.”
Chapter Two
Jareth’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. Frowning, he glanced over to the envelope sitting in the passenger’s seat. Messages that were hand delivered by Deacon never worked in his favor. As the Seeker, it was up to him to bring a prophecy to fruition that would change the world. Both mortal and immortal. His life had been prophesied, as had his ancestors. The Dunstan family, first born son always claimed their father’s entitlement to be the Seeker. Jareth’s life was never truly his own, he had forces working against him, dark and evil forces. He lived in the center of a huge power struggle between good and evil. No one really knowing the if the outcome will be what was prophetised eons ago.
This evening was the first time in ages he felt even remotely human. Spending time with Lisette was like a breath of fresh air.
He steered the Porsche down Heaton Road, the blond girl’s car was gone. Hopefully the Sheriff’s department had made sure she got home safely. She would never know just how close she came to dying. His mind conjured up the scene of him dragging her through the woods. Tossing her like a rag doll, grabbing her by her hair…
“Stop!”, he said out loud.
He didn’t want to relive it. He wanted to pretend it never happened. But it did happen. Hunger was not the catalyst of his need to feed. His basic instinct surfaced, he could not control the need to be a predator. He needed to stalk his prey and make them bend to his will. The ultimate prey to vampires? Humans. His hunger went from a twinge to a full fledged aberration so quickly. How could he have lost control, it was if he was possessed. He just had to know if it was ‘self induced’ or magic. If the latter, he would have to be much more careful. The last thing he needed was to revert back into the person he had once been. Even while being under someone elses magic, he could not deny the things he had done.
The Porsche sped along the winding road, it’s driver feeling invincible. The human blood coursing through him, the essence of life to a vampire. He had long forgotten just how different human blood was compared to animal blood. Human blood offering a more metallic taste which lingered on the tongue and throat. Much like a really good vintage wine. Actually comparing human blood to animal blood was like comparing apples to oranges. Human blood is an elixir, a cure-all. More than does it keep vampires ‘alive’, it makes them stronger, more agile, faster. A steady diet of animal blood sustained ‘life’, a steady diet of human blood made you practically invincible. Of course every vampire had things that he needed to avoid. Such as silver, the thinnest band of silver could be used to immobilize a vampire. Silver bullets? They are used on werewolves, not vampires. Somehow through the millenniums, as immortals started having to hide their existence. That tidbit of knowledge had become distorted. Wooden bullets could be used to immobilize vampires. Garlic? repulsive because of their heightened sense of smell, nothing more. Having a stake driven through your heart, decapitation, fire. All not good for vampire mortality rates. Vampires cannot step into the place where a human eats and sleeps without being invited in, true. Even immortals have laws and rules that they are forced to abide by.
The deed being done, Jareth tried not to enjoy the after affects of his attack on the stranded girl. He ran his tongue over the now retracted teeth as he steered the car up the driveway leading to his newest home. The old farmhouse had been transformed into what stood before him. He climbed the steps to the front door. Instead he turned and sat on the top step. Jareth took the enveloped from his pocket, looking at his name scrolled across the front. He ran his finger along the envelope. Something broke his concentration, steps of a doe a few feet behind the large apple tree. He could hear every beat of her heart, every breath she took. The doe was lucky that Jareth had fed so well this evening. A twinge of guilt reared up in him as he vanished through the door.
Jareth spent the whole day walking from darkened room to darkened room. Pacing back and forth like an animal in a cage. Damn the fates for not allowing vampires to be amongst the living during the brightness of day. He glanced at the windows, pleased to see that no natural light was streaming through the steel shutters. He found himself pacing again, walking past the letter on the mantel of the fireplace. He had memorized every word:
Dark Stone ~
We do hope this letter finds you well and that you are enjoying your brief hiatus. Beware that Ubel is still in search of you and the items that you have spent a lifetime seeking. Keep them safe, for our world as we know it depends on you. Cicero has decoded another bit of Cassandra’s prophecy. The Circle would like you to follow up on the information as soon as you are well settled in your new surroundings. If you are in need of our assistance do not hesitate to ask.
“Cimmerian shade encroaches where ethereal light flows. Innocence gone, a distinction will be made of their own volition. Champion the jewel, dark blue violet in color. Extirpate the nefarious and one step closer you shall be.” ~ The Circle
At the bottom of the note: It seems ages since our last meeting. Jareth, please forgive me for the harsh words I spoke before your departure. I live in anguish knowing that I hurt you. ~ Aislin
His stride broke as he picked up the letter along with the envelope. Placing it in the fireplace, he grabbed the matches from the mantel and lit one. As he looked down at the handwritten note sitting on top he became a bit melancholy. “Aislin, you have no idea of what anguish is,” he said as he lit the corner. He watched the hand scripted note burst into flames. The memory of his last meeting with Aislin swept over him. Standing inside the courtyard of her mansion. The moonlight streamed over her naked body, her blond hair seeming to glow against the darkness. Jareth’s standing beside her, his hands shackled behind him by silver chains. The chains burning into his wrists, he writhed in pain.
“Why Dark Stone? Why do you make me go to these extremes?”, she stood and gently put her arms through the white robe held by a servant.
“Leave us, I will be fine.” Aislin motioned to the servant and the guard who stood next to Jareth to leave.
“Aislin, please. This is not going to change anything between us,” Jareth winced as she put her hand to his chest. Her touch made the hate he felt for her rise up inside him. She walked behind him and gently removed the silver chains from his hands. As she pulled them away from his wrist, his anger automatically made his teeth extend. As the last link broke away from his skin he quickly turned to her. Wrapping his hand around her throat he picked her up into the air as he extended his arm. Jareth tightened his grip, his teeth ached to rip out her throat.
“Now, now Dark Stone, do you really want to anger me more than you already have?”
Jareth dropped his hand from her throat and she fell in a heap at his feet. He turned from the dream weaver and stood watching the stars in the night sky. Aislin walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, putting her face on his back.
“Please Dark Stone, it doesn’t have to be like this. Why can’t we go back to what we were?” Jareth swung around his fangs crying out to rip into her throat.
“Aislin what we were? You controlled me, you took away my free will. I was nothing more than your personal play thing!”
“That’s not true Dark Stone, I love you, you were destined to be mine.” He grabbed her tightly by her wrists.
“The prophecy says that I am destined to be with another and you knew that Aislin. For all of those years you knew that!”
He dropped her wrists and started to walk away. Putting a hand on his arm, “You are so willing to throw those wonderful years away. How can you toss away all of those memories?”
A tear fell to her cheek as she put his face in her hands, “How can you negate all of those nights of passion? That was the real Dark Stone, that was you acting of your own volition.” She stood on her tip toes and kissed him. For a moment Jareth remembered the passion he had once felt for the creature standing so close to him now. For one moment he felt like he could have swept her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom just up the stairs. Abruptly the thoughts turned to pure unadulterated disgust.
He pushed her away from him, “Aislin, you’ve been dead to me since the night I found out about your lies.
He started to walk down the small stone walkway, “You’ve taken from me so many years Aislin, I won’t give you one second more.” As he stood by the large door of the courtyard his fangs retracted.
“And Aislin if you don’t stay out of my head I will return, and of my own volition, I will kill you.”
He walked away into the darkened night. He heard her piercing screams as he ran toward the forest.
“I swear Aislin, I swear on my mother’s soul, I’ll kill you.”
He would have to be more careful, he couldn’t risk being kidnapped again. Aislin’s henchmen did her bidding well, just as he had for way too many years. Aislin’s power over him had become consistently less since their last meeting. How could she say she loved him and yet cause him so much excruciating pain. He had been nothing more than her puppet. Aislin, the Dream Weaver. Her special gift, infiltrating the dreams of mortals. Once in control, she could bring to life your wildest fantasies. Or she could twist those fantasies into a nightmare that would stop your heart as you slept. As an immortal she could not control his dreams, he had none. She had found a way to control him completely, much like his one gift of ‘compulsion’. Thankfully her spell was finally broken by The Circle once they were informed of her duplicity. Aislin had crossed the line and was severely reprimanded by The Circle. Aislin manipulated information pertaining to the prophecy. He honestly found it odd that the Elders and Council allowed her to retain any of her powers, let alone live. He was set free of her manipulations and now only had to wait out the after affects.
He started questioning if she had cast another spell on him. There was no other explanation. He lost control and either he did it of his own free will or someone was controlling his actions. She enjoyed tormenting him, constantly reminding him of the horrible things he had done. Jareth replayed every movement that he made the night before. Reliving the intensity of all that he felt as he hunted and supped on the stranded driver. He allowed himself to feel the need once again for human blood. He retraced every move he had made, each emotion he had felt. His body had winced in pain as he remembered the hunger that had grown deep inside him into something unspeakable. He had lost control, control that he had put in place years ago. But something had triggered those feelings. Feelings so intense that not even the glimmer of humanity he had left in him was enough to stop it. And yet he did stop. He easily could have ripped the heart out of the blond in his feeding frenzy. He could have taken her deeper into the forest, dined and left her there to die alone. But he didn’t. He had two questions that he needed to answer. What made him lose control and what had stopped him? Or had he finally lost that last spark of humanity that Aislin hadn’t already killed?
The chimes on the clock in the hallway echoed through the farmhouse. He scanned around the room as the shutters began to open automatically. It was dusk, he was finally free to leave his self imposed confinement.
“Enough!” he said out loud as he grabbed his jacket. Enough thinking, he needed to get out. Within minutes Jareth was standing at the door of the antique shop. A twinge of excitement rose in him as he opened the door.
Lisette had spent the previous night tossing and turning in her bed. She couldn’t seem to stop her mind from racing. Thought after thought, faster and faster. Like flipping through pages in a book. A whirlwind of images, cascaded through her brain. Her brain refused to quiet itself and let her drift off to sleep. She started to hunger for just a moment of peace. Throwing the pillow over her face, she tried to get the kaleidoscope of colors to stop. She dropped the pillow off the side of the bed as she stretched to look at the clock on the nightstand. You would think, after all of these years, she would have gained some command over this nightly ritual. She wanted it to stop so she could picture him in her mind. She wanted to relive every second they had been together.
“Ugh, what I would not give for one full night’s sleep.”, she mumbled as she crawled out of bed. Putting on her robe, she headed down the stairs. Stopping to pick up the sketchpad and pencil from the table as she passed.
Lisette had showered and was already dressed as the alarm sounded the next morning. Jeans and a violet colored sweater now graced her slender body. She hadn’t slept one wink. Coffee, she needed coffee, and lots of it. Saturdays were notoriously busy at the antique store. She made a mental note to call Sam and place a help wanted ad. It would soon be summer, she knew from experience that she could not handle the shop on her own. Bounding down the stairs she could smell the coffee which was hot and ready as she entered the kitchen.
“Hmmm — coffee,” she poured herself a tall mug of it. No cream and sugar for her, she needed it strong and black today. The rumblings in her stomach told her to eat, but she was too tired to make anything. She would grab a little something before opening the shop.
She turned the little television on sitting next to the coffee maker on.
“Three campers killed in Westwich at a campground not far from the highway,” the news lady said.
“Their throats had been slashed and no evidence had been found at the scene,” ran through Lisette’s ears. Her heart ached for those people and their families. She knew exactly what they were going through. Lisette turned off the TV, picked up her purse and threw a dark blue jacket over her shoulder. On her way out, she grabbed the sketchpad sitting on the kitchen table. Before stepping onto the porch, she set it down on the little table by the front door. She would look at the sketches later.
It never ceased to amaze Lisette how many people got up early on Saturdays to venture down to main street. The shops were opening one by one, the hardware store had already put out their flag and boxes of flowers waited to be purchased. Joe’s Grill had cars parked in front and she waved to Mrs. Sprague as she loaded her three children out of the car in front of the library. Sam was hoisting the American flag up it’s pole in front of the Gazette.
“Good morning beautiful!”, he gave her a shout and a wink. It was a beautiful spring morning in Carrington Ridge VA.
“GOD bless the man who invented the automatic timer.”
The pungent smell of coffee filled the small antique shop as she opened the door. Turning the lights on as she entered, she swung the sign on the window beside the door to read OPEN. It was going to be a very long day. Of all of the places in the world she wanted to be, here is not one of them. As she poured her first cup of coffee, the little bell on the front door jingled.
Just as Lisette had imagined, the little antique shop stayed quite busy throughout the day. It wasn’t until dinner time that she found her stomach growling like a grizzly. She never found the opportunity to close up the shop and grab something to eat at Joe’s. Not only was she famished, she was as tired as she had ever been. Her stomach suddenly reminded her that it hadn’t eaten all day. She just had one more thing to do, then she would go grab something. Picking up her cell phone she pressed 5 on speed dial.
Sam answered his cell phone as he stood by the window in his office. Sam Carter, proud owner of the Carrington Ridge Gazette, Editor-in-Chief, writer, etc. Lisette spoke with him on a regular basis, the Gazette provided advertising for her shop. And aside from their business relationship, Lisette and Sam were friends.
Sam and Lisette had dated in high school, they were inseparable for almost two years. Passing love notes in class during the day and spending every hour they could after school together. After five years of dating they split up and had remained friends. Sam was a bit over bearing at times and had some severe anger management issues. He had a dark side that turned him into something she no longer knew. With all of his faults he always tried to make life a little easier for Lisette. Especially after her parents died. His whole demeanor changed and he had become just a friend.
Sam put his feet up on his desk, leaning back in his chair. As the phone rang he swung his feet down. As if the person on the other end would see him lounging at work. Glancing at caller ID he saw it was Lisette.
“Hey Sam, it’s Lisette.”
After a twenty minute conversation, the first fifteen minutes being spent on small talk. Lisette placed the ad in the Help Wanted section of the paper. Just as Sam was about to ask her out to dinner the tiny bell on the front door jingled.
“I’ve got to run! Thanks bunches Sam, I’ll talk to you soon.”
The bright sunny spring day had brought people out in droves. Each and every one of them had decided to pay her a visit, it seemed. By the time dusk fell she was completely and totally drained. The hunger pangs were almost to the point of being unbearable. She had never been so happy to have a day end. Then she heard the small bell on the front door announce another customer.
“Will this day never end?” she muttered under her breath.
As she looked down the long aisle toward the door she saw the contour of a man. He turned and walked toward a side aisle before she could open her mouth to speak. A moment later she heard his voice coming from a darkened corner of the shop just steps away.
“I do hope that you are still open.”
Lisette’s heart started racing as he stepped into the light. She could only imagine the shocked expression on her face. It was Jareth Dunstan.
“Oh, you startled me!”
Lisette’s hand automatically reached out to shake his. As their hands grasped the others, neither could pull their eyes away from the other.
Lisette couldn’t seem to get her thoughts to conform into something that she could push through her mouth. Her mind was a jumble as he turned his head slightly, beckoning her to say something. His cool hand still held hers.
“Is there something wrong?”, a look of concern came to his hauntingly handsome face.
“Oh I’m fine –, ” a shy smile crossed her face.
Jareth’s cat like reflexes caught her before she fell. He knelt beside her and cupped her upper body against his arm. His attention drawn to the lovely face before him. He ran his chilled hand over her temple, watching for any flicker behind her lids. Enjoying the warmth of her as she lay across his arm. The sound of her heart beating in her chest. Jareth found himself holding her to his chest, her head supported by his. The faint scent of vanilla radiated from her long black hair, so soft against his cheek. A murmur sprung from her mouth as she started to come to. As her eyes opened she struggled to find her bearings.
“What happened?”, she tried to stand.
“I do believe you fainted Miss Bijou,” Jareth stated as he helped her to her feet. He slid his hands to her shoulders, guiding her into a chair.
“Wow, remind me never to do that again,” she said as she wrapped her arms around her stomach.
The sick feeling in her stomach was growing.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologized as he knelt in front of her, lifting her chin, he looked into her eyes.
“It’s just that I haven’t eaten anything today,” she tried to turn her eyes away.
“Well then we need to remedy that.”
He took her by the elbow and helped her up from the chair. He steadied her with one arm around her waist. They paused long enough for Jareth to lock the door and turned toward Joe’s Grill. The short walk gave Lisette time to gain focus on what had just happened.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she lamented as she slid into the booth at Joe’s Grill. Jareth slid quietly in across from her.
“No need to be embarrassed. I know exactly how you are feeling. Believe me.”
Lisette threw up two fingers to an onlooking Joe standing at the grill.
“One number two coming up! Anything for your friend?”, Joe yelled from across the room.
“Nothing for me thank you,” Jareth replied.
“I am so sorry to put you through all of this.”
Jareth’s eyes pierced hers, “I’m to blame, I never should have kept you out so late last night.”
His eyes darted from her mouth to her chin, her chin down to her throat. He tried to break his focus. Sitting this close, he fought the urge to reach out to feel the blood rush through the veins in her neck. It was all he could do to control the urge to grab her, turning her lovely neck to the side –. Her body was emitting her special scent and he found it arousing him. What he wouldn’t give for just a few drops of her blood. He quickly looked away trying to gain composure. He needed to cleanse his head of those thoughts, not allow them to even start to form. Let alone act on them. Whatever, whoever was trying to control him was trying to get back into his head.
“I don’t believe that you told me last night, do you live here in town?”
“I purchased the old Clayborn farm. Do you know it? It’s just a stones throw away from here, as the crow flies.”
“I know exactly where it is. Everyone in five counties has heard about the Clayborn farm. No one told you that you are living in a haunted house?”
Just then Joe arrived with a refill on their coffees. Lisette had eaten and her stomach was now content. She took a long sip of coffee, “So Mr. Dunstan why is it that last night was the first time I have seen you around?”
Jareth grinned as he leaned forward over the table.
“I’ve been around.”
For the next hour the two sat across from each other in the little booth by the window. Each in wide-eyed fascination of the other as they spoke. The mug in Lisette’s hand was now empty.
“Would you like another?”, he stood waiting for her reply.
“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.”, she watched him walk toward the register.
As he stood beside the table he held out his hand to her, “May I escort you back to your shop? I do believe you have peeked my interested on the whole ‘you are living in a haunted house thing’.”
She put her hand through his arm, “Yes sir, please do.”
Jareth and Lisette now stood in front of the antique store. “Would you like to come in?”, pausing as she opened the door.
“It is getting late, I should let you get home so you can get some rest.”
Lisette’s eyes begged him to accept the invitation, “I’m fine. We aren’t open on Sunday, I can catch up on some sleep.”
Reaching up she turned the sign on the door to CLOSED. As they stepped into the little shop Lisette walked toward the counter along the back wall.
“I am fine now, thanks to you. Browse as long as your little heart desires”, Lisette stated as she stepped behind the counter.
“Please, take your time,” her arm motioning that the store was his to browse. She was more than content to sit and watch him. How could any one man be so perfect? His dark hair, facial features that could have been those of Adonis, his body muscular and yet sleek. Those eyes that made her heart race.
Jareth walked the aisles of the old antique shop. If he had more time he would have browsed the old bookshelves more closely. Reading had become another passion of his. After the first fifty years or so of sleepless immortality, one tends to try to find things to keep busy. He scrutinized a large mirror that had caught his eye, it was truly fabulous. Late 19th century, crafted from carved wood. A classical sea motif depicting the Roman god Neptune at the top, sea creatures decorating the sides. Definitely of Italian origin. It would look wonderful over the fireplace. Jareth quickly swung away from the mirror to see what was behind him. He saw a red flash cross the surface of the mirror. Just as he had seen in the bar up the street.
“You have wonderful taste Mr. Dunstan,” Lisette was standing next to him.
“I found it at an estate sale a couple of months ago. It’s not something I would usually carry here in the shop.”
Jareth was admiring not only the mirror, but the reflection of Lisette standing next to him. “It will look great over the fireplace, I’ll take it,”
Jareth grabbed the mirror suspended on the side wall. As he wrestled it down, something once again, flashed in the reflection of the mirror itself. He turned his head to see a painting sitting on the floor a few steps away. He took the mirror and set it on the counter along the back wall.
“Are you sure Jareth?, it’s really expensive,” Lisette ambled behind the counter.
“I’m not worried about the cost,” he said as he walked back to where the painting sat on the floor. Two people standing in a beautiful flower filled courtyard, the moon hung high in the sky above. The woman with long blond flowing hair, her hands cupping the face of a dark haired man as they kissed. The man’s face was not shown, but he immediately knew it was him. The woman — Aislin.
His mind started reeling. How could this be? Who knew of his meeting with Aislin?
“How on earth did that get down here?”, Lisette once again was standing beside him.
As his eyes swept over the painting they rested on the delicate script in the lower right hand corner, Lisette Bijou.
“You? You painted this?”, his hands started to tremble.
Lisette pointed at the signature on the bottom of the painting, “Yes, I do hope you are not an art critic.”
He could barely contain the questions that were starting once again to muddle his brain. He broke free of his thoughts and asked Lisette, “When did you paint this?” She tried to think back, “It was about six months ago, why?” He couldn’t answer, his mind was moving so fast that he could no longer think straight. Long before the meeting had even taken place.
“I would like to purchase the painting also,” he escorted Lisette back toward the register.
“Are you sure?”, all of a sudden she felt embarrassed.
“My tastes are quite eclectic.”
Lisette noted that he hadn’t even asked the price. Her paintings were far from being valuable commodities, especially here in Carrington Ridge.
“Then it is yours, a gift.” Jareth wasn’t going to argue. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. The smell of her once again aroused him.
“Let me wrap it for you.” Lisette took the painting to a small work space behind the counter. She had already readied the mirror for it’s new owner. Jareth perused the small bookcase brimming with books a few feet away. Suddenly Lisette let out a sharp gasp.
“Damn it!” Jareth swung around to find her wincing in pain. He jumped over the counter in one smooth motion. Grabbing the hand that she was clutching in front of her. Before he could, he saw a single drop of blood form from the cut on her palm. As if in slow motion, he watched it shape itself into a perfect sphere. The drop then exploded on the counter. He took a handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket. Gently he wrapped it around her hand. Taking a deep breath he put pressure on the wound.
“Really it’s nothing, I am such a klutz,” she pulled her hand away from his. As she removed the thin material of the handkerchief she surveyed the damage. Across the palm of her hand was a gash about an inch long.
“Someone should keep me away from sharp objects. I have a tendency to be, accident prone. This is nothing a bandage or two won’t fix,” opening a drawer behind the counter she pulled out a small medical kit. After treating her wound, she showed him her handy work, “Did I mention that I am a klutz? Jareth are you alright?” He had turned away from her, the drop of blood had triggered his fangs to extend. His eyes turned from bright blue to ebony. Jareth walked toward the front window of the store. Pretending he hadn’t heard her.
“Jareth?”
“I must admit Miss Bijou I have no tolerance for seeing you in pain.”
“How sweet of you Mr. Dunstan, I assure you that I will be fine.”
“I can have these things delivered on Monday,” she said as she finished wrapping the work of art.
“I really doubt that you can fit both the painting and the mirror in your Porsche.”
He had to think quickly, “I will take the painting now and make other arrangements for the mirror.”
“Would you think me forward if I suggested that I take it home with me? It is as good an excuse as any, and guarantees that I will see you again.”
Jareth’s eyes sparkled as he accepted her gracious proposal. He would stop by her home some time after dark.
After locking up, Jareth walked Lisette to her car, putting the mirror on the back seat as she slid behind the wheel.
“Oh I didn’t tell you where I live, just look for the little white house on Oak street with the porch swing.” Her face was beaming in the moonlight.
“Got it, then I shall see you soon Miss Bijou, drive safely,” he slowly closed her car door and watched her start the car and drive away. Rushing to the Porsche he crawled behind the wheel, glancing at the painting sitting in the passenger seat. It was going to be another long day with even more questions than before.
