****REWRITING IN PROCESS****
A thousand years ago, seven stars sat illuminated in the night sky, surrounded by the moon, wrapped around its comfort and loving embrace, secured in the safety net that always provided them protection.
Too soon, it all...
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Warning: slight torture, blood and gore (and unedited).
Are you ready?!! It's the chapter we have all been waiting for—the showdown between Darcella and Isobel and maybe a few extra playmates thrown into the mix.
*-*-*-*
Buckle up your seatbelts and strap yourselves in tight.
Darcella cordially welcomes you to the main event.
But first, we're gonna play a game of catch me if you can!
Tick tock, the clocks ticking!
*•*•*•*
Thirty minutes before she struck...
John Gilbert turned up at Isobel's residence after receiving a call from the female vampire. Parking his car beside hers, he entered the house when Cherie had granted him access, noticing the suitcases in the entry as he walked into the parlour.
"I see you're packing. That's a good sign."
Isobel sat on the couch, staring out of the large glazed doors, facing the back garden. She smirked and stood up. "It won't be long now."
"Did you get the missing piece? Where is it?"
"I don't have it yet," she scowled irritably.
John frowned. "Then, why did you call me here?"
She motioned him to follow her into the dining room. "Because I have the next best thing."
Curious, John followed and entered the room. He falters, stopping in his tracks in the doorway, not wanting to believe what he was witnessing.
Sat in a chair at the dining table was a brown-haired boy. He sucks in a ragged breath, for even though the boy's head was bowed and couldn't see his face, his conscience already knew who it was. Yet, another part of him begged it wasn't real.
Bracing himself, his eyes flit anxiously over to Cherie and Frank standing on either side of the boy as he took slow, cautious steps across the room, pausing when he was before them. Jonh's shaking hands find themselves under the boy's chin and tilting upwards.
He gasps, staring at Jeremy's unconscious face, gaze darting from his closed eyes to the bloody gash on his forehead, the bounds securing his hands and feet to the chair, and then finally resting on the gag strapped to his chapped mouth.
John swallows thickly, shifting his hands and placing two fingers against Jeremy's neck, checking for a pulse. A rush of breath expels upon feeling the slow, steady heartbeat.
