bloody rose

Here’s chapter three, my fine amigos. Thanks again to the band elf, hate, zeke, ma fee celtique, ma pomme de sang, still the only girl on drumline, my master, legolas, and mr wall… my very best friend and psychologist.
Please review! I will love you forever!!!!… (ok that’d be scary)…. Ill really like and respect you while not becoming a stalker forever!!!!!
May I recommend the caramel dip?


The auction had ended hours ago, and the three vampires had returned to the Keep. Morgana had retreated to her rooms with her new slave, still unconscious from the heavy drugs he was given, in tow. That had left Evangeline and Tristan to report to Her Majesty. The Regent had been pleased and had released the two vampires back to their rooms for the night. Tristan had shed his clothes as soon as the door had closed and had collapsed onto the burgundy velvet and satin covers that adored their bed. Evangeline had gone into the wide walk-in closet to change into some nightclothes.
Evangeline came back out to the sight of her husband’s sleeping form. He was framed beautifully against the dark burgundy sheets, it brought out the faint touch of color still in his cheeks that was only ever to be seen after he had fed. And fed they had. They had stayed at the auction house long enough for Ronald to offer a “light” snack. As much of a pain as he was, he knew how to please. Young slaves were brought out, every one of them free of marks. Ronald had a large enough stable of slaves to rotate them in and out, no slave was ever given to a vampire as food so long as they had the marks of another vampire.
Both Evangeline and Tristan had fed well, and Evangeline could still feel the blood rushing through her veins. She was sorely tempted to wake her husband up and do something, anything, she felt as though she had all the energy in the world. Just as she thought that, an interesting notion came to mind. No one would know, no one could tell, that once she had come so very close to dying. That all those years ago, in a very old and different world, a simple disease almost brought her down. But her life had been spared by the magnificent creature that lay in her bed, now only a few feet from her….

~~}1679, The British Colonies{~~

The night was still so very young, and it held a wealth of possibilities. Tristan carried Evangeline back into their bedroom with laughter and loving abandon. He set her down on her feet at the foot of the bed. Evangeline turned to him and looked up into his eyes. Everything seemed so very still for a moment, as the vampire and the delicate little mortal looked into each other's eyes and waited breathlessly for the other to move, not daring to break the spell themselves. But as the clock tolled out the late hour Tristan knew that time was against them, and if he did not finish it by morning, Evangeline might be lost. He tentatively reached a hand up to her face. Hundreds of years of practice, and this little mortal chit had him shaking and unsure of himself. The back of his fingers brushed her face and Evangeline leaned into them, closing her eyes and letting out a breathy sigh that Tristan would not have heard had he not been a vampire. He marveled at the feel of her warm skin against his cool fingers. So warm, so soft; he could feel the rushing blood there, just beneath the surface, inviting him, calling him to come closer, closer. Tristan leaned forward, the black veil of him hair falling forward also, brushing her face just as his fingers had a moment before. Evangeline’s eyes fluttered as she felt him come nearer. The kiss was gentle, merely a caress of lips, but held within it a promise of heat, passion.
Tristan took a half step forward and deepened the kiss. Evangeline could feel the tips of his fangs pressed hard against her mouth, not threatening, but there nevertheless, like a dark promise of what seductive, hellish, beautiful things would come from the night. Tristan found her hand and drew away. Evangeline followed not only because of his hand on hers but because of those sapphire eyes that had so long ago enthralled her as he had watched her from her windowsill. He brought her around to the side of the bed. And guided her to sit on the edge. She let him guide her down and scooted over when he directed her, so that she lay down nestled amongst the burgundy pillows and sheets. Tristan knelt over her and looked down at the trusting little mortal. She was so delicate, like a rose in bloom; no, she was a rosebud, and his immortal kiss would bring her to bloom. He let his hands wander over her skin innocently, passing over her arms and neck and face, every touch a caress of power. But soon he changed and ran his hands along the fabric of her dress, working his way lower. He would not damage that porcelain neck; he would not break that smooth expanse of alabaster for this kiss of death. When Tristan reached her waist he paused, looking up into her eyes for a second before continuing. Gathering her skirts in his hand he lifted them and Evangeline gently spread her legs to allow him room. Tristan continued to slide down between her legs, halting at the thudding pulse in her thigh. For a moment he pressed his face against her skin feeling the trapped thing there below her delicate flesh. He breathed in the scent of her, as she was now, alive and warm, wanting to remember it forever after. But a moment later he knew he did not have an eternity to spend memorizing her scent. He lifted his face and opened his mouth, preparing to feed. As his fangs pierced her thigh Evangeline gasped and threw her head back, moaning in the sensation that was neither purely pain nor purely pleasure. He felt the sweet rushing blood that was the very essence of Evangeline fill his mouth. He was drowning in the taste of it, the feel of it, and for a moment he did not know whether he was consuming her or if she was consuming him. He fed, and he fed well, the blood of his beloved rushing into him, sustaining him. He felt he fade as he drew her blood into his mouth and for a terrible second he felt fear, the same fear that had fueled the events of the night as a whole; a fear that she would age and fade and die, and he would be truly cursed to live after her, alone. He released his hold on her and moved up towards her face. He bit his wrist himself, letting the drops of blood that flowed fall into her eager mouth. Evangeline swallowed and gasped as him blood, like liquid fire, seeped down his throat and filled her with his unholy demon. She screamed as her life left her. And Tristan clung to her, a sense of relief in him so deep the pits of hell looked shallow.

~~}A Few Nights Later{~~

It was the third night after he had turned her that the zealots overtook them. He had not had time to train her and had been feeding her off of his own blood for the past few nights. The purge was a fast spreading thing, Tristan knew, but this was intolerable! The court should have warned them of activity so close to them, especially when he had a fledgling! The humans behind him stomped and trampled through the brush of the forest the two vampires had led them into. Evangeline was frightened at his side, but she wisely kept quiet as only the dead could and followed his every direction. They weaved their way through the trees, he leading. Evangeline marveled at the speed they moved at and how neither branch nor bush caught their clothing or skin. They cleared the trees and moved silently over the field beyond. Ducking behind a boulder, Tristan grasped Evangeline's shoulders and shook her gently.
"Do you have any idea what they’ll do to us if they find us?"
"No, who are they? Why are they after us?"
"They are cruel men, sent be wicked men who would see the destruction of us, and all that we are. They are the administrators of the great purge, the last attempt by mortalkind to destroy the vampires, but I don’t understand, Kateri would have sent word of their movements long ago, what could have kept her messenger?"
"What if one was never sent?" Tristan turned back to her with a grave look
"Evangeline, love, that is a treacherous thought, to doubt the court is to sign your own death sentence," Evangeline did not like the looking his eyes. It spoke of torture and horror, what had these people at court done to instill such a look in her love's eyes?
"Evangeline, if they catch us, don’t speak a word of what I have shown you, tell them nothing, and fight, fight for all your worth, and know I will come to you, they cannot hold us apart," Tristan watched a solemn look of determination wash over Evangeline's face.
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" she asked him.
"Evangeline, were on a cliff, they could cut us off and force us against the drop, we have to know what side they are coming from. If they try to force us, we still have a way out, through the tunnels and then the catacombs," he shifted, scenting the wind and listening for human voices. He heard them, distantly to the right. Damn! They were going to try to cut them off. Tristan grabbed Evangeline's hand and speed through the woods to the stone entrance to the tunnels. Once they had been used by the druids to escape the rushing conversion of Ireland to Catholicism, now they were crumbled ruins that the vampires had been using in case of emergencies. Tristan led Evangeline though the tunnels, and she found she could see in the dark. There were symbols carved in the walls.
"What are they?" she asked him softly.
"Protection wards, the druids carved them to keep this passage way safe."
"Druids? I thought they were just a myth to scare good Catholic children," she said. Secretly Evangeline had always hoped the old tales of the Fae and the mystical druids were true. This tunnel was a living dream. They made their way when a strange scent hit Evcangeline's senses like a hammer. She froze in her steps.
"Tristan, what is that?!?" her voice held all the emotion of someone who realizes that he desires something truly awful.
"Old death, it seeps out from the catacombs, you’ll get used to it," and with that he hurried onward and inward. Evangeline stopped form a second more, inhaling the sweet scent before rushing after him. Soon the walls around them gave way to hollowed out coves where the bodies of the dead Catholics who had fought to claim the tunnels were buried. Tristan drew Evangeline close to him and laced a hand over her eyes.
"Don’t look," he whispered. "If you see the holy symbols it will burn your eyes." Evangeline let him lead her through until she no longer smelled the sweet scent of death but the cool air of the night.

He let her go slowly, and she turned to embrace him. They had done it! They had escaped! But too quickly was her joy dashed in her breast as she saw, standing about them, a mass of men and a few women, all holding torches with a triumphant look on their faces.
"Evangeline, go back slowly, go back into the catacombs, they can't follow you there, I'll hold them off," Tristan muttered to her, to softly for the humans to hear.
"No I'm not going to leave you! I will stay and fight!" Tristan turned to her, suppressing a smile. She was a fiery, hot-blooded Irish woman, to be sure. He loved her, this demonic vixen at his side.
"Stay close to me," he said finally in return. Evangeline moved closer to him, smiling inwardly at her brave, strong Tristan. They moved to attack the humans, to rush them. Evangeline didn't know how she knew how to move, to fight, but a look from Tristan told her he was speaking to her telepathically. They were almost past the humans when a strange, rasping voice called out in an odd tongue. Evangeline heard Tristan swear and she tuned to him just as the spell hit them, they dropped and all she could see was the approach of boots, and then, darkness.

Evangeline awoke to the bumpy, cantering roll of the horse’s trot beneath her. Her hands were bound behind her and she was slung across the horse like a sack. She bucked against her restraints when a male hand came out from above her and smacked her rudely on the rump.
"That’ll be enough, lassie, unless you want the fun to start here,” Evangeline glared upward at the unseen man, swearing revenge on her dignity. She saw Tristan, slumped and unconscious, on another horse. She called out to him, but the hand from before came out and hit her harder. Evangeline screamed her outrage, only to be smacked again. She quieted, plotting all sorts of mischief on these villains.
They arrived at a monastery, it was small, and Evangeline had never seen it. She got only a brief glance at it as she was herded, along with a semiconscious Tristan into the foyer. Tristan was more awake now, and the man with the harsh raspy voice came to stand before them.
"I, oh Ye Creatures of the Damned, am Claudaine Mortimer, commandant of this chapter of the King’s Guard, and you are here to be tried, sentenced and executed before you can spread your corruption to the Holy Kingdom!" At this, he waved his hand and the men stepped forward to grab them again. Tristan had not recovered from the spell though, and staggered as he tried to fight them off. Evangeline screamed in horror as they stuck Tristan down before her, his face bloody. Two of them fell on the vampire, and, hauling him upwards, they carried him from the room. Evangeline tried to follow, but the tall commander held forth a cross, brandishing it like a sword. Evangeline hissed as she brought up her hands to cover her face. The world disappeared in a white flash; even after the cross had been put away her vision was speckled with dots and lights. She cursed under her breath and tried to look up to see where they had taken her beloved. Tristan was gone, and the door was locked with holy symbols. Evangeline screamed in rage and frustration. Just as she quieted, the sun peaked through the window, and immortal sleep took her over. When Evangeline awoke, the cool night air swept through the room. The stones pressed against her cheek were very pretty, she thought. The stones were granite, with bits of color flecked in; it was not a solid gray, but a multitude of mundane colors. So strange she hadn’t noticed it before. Very strange. Oh! She realized the lines in the stones weren’t cut very evenly were they? No, no not at all. Evangeline's brow furrowed. Wasn’t there something she should have been worried about? That was odd why couldn’t she remember? Those colors were so pretty. No! There was something but what? Why couldn’t she concentrate? Evangeline closed her eyes and thought hard; what was wrong? Something was. But what?
A strand of hair brushed Evangeline's face. She reached up to brush it aside, but found she couldn’t. Her hands were bound. Panic raced through her as she struggled against her bonds. A sudden second realization hit home. She was naked. Evangeline struggled harder. What was going on? She twisted and eventually stopped, whatever was holding her was stronger than her vampire powers. She stopped and reassessed the situation. She was naked and tied and Tristan was nowhere in sight. Fear crept into mind; surely they didn’t mean to rape her. No, no, she reasoned, if they had they wouldn’t have waited for her to awaken. Besides, Tristan said they hated vampires, why would they sully themselves with one? No, rape wasn’t going to be the game. Evangeline twisted again, but not trying to break free. She looked over her bare shoulder at the manacles that bound her. They were inscribed with runes and holy symbols and looked to be silver. Damn! They weren’t going to make it easy were they? But it did explain her earlier confusion. The runes must be a spell worked to prevent her from thinking clearly enough to escape. Evangeline gasped as she felt a strange sensation sweep over her. She glanced up at the window. Surely she hadn’t slept so long. No! Dawn couldn’t be approaching! It was too soon. But nevertheless, Evangeline felt it slide across her skin like some great tangible cat. She cursed every deity she could remember before blacking out.

Evangeline awoke again. This is getting old, she thought. This time her wrists were bound and she felt herself being dragged upwards. Her head cleared and she realized that she was clothed from the waist down, but her breasts were covered in only a strip of cloth. She panicked, the room was full of men and she was barely clothed. This could not be good. A tall man with a hood came forward with a cruel chuckle and strode quickly behind her, to he jeers of his companions. Evangeline jerked in the chains.
"Let me go you bastards!" she screeched at them. There was a crack, and Evangeline belatedly realized the man had hit her. But despite her screams the beating continued she could only wait and imagine the pain Tristan was in. Where could he be? Surely he could escape them. Surely. The man's blows changed and Evangeline suddenly felt a smart rap on her head.
"Dammit" she muttered as she once again rifted into unconsciousness.
Evangeline awoke again to the darkness of her cell. She was relieved to look down to find a simple gray shift covering everything. Thank goodness. She looked up and found her hands unbound. Glancing around the room she saw nothing extraordinary. As she turned towards the open window she saw a strange dark lump. Drawing close she saw in the shadows a wisp of black hair. Fear raced through her. I couldn’t be, no, no it couldn’t.
But it was.
Tristan lay in a crumpled ball against the wall, his limbs bent at strange angles, his face bruised and bloodied. As she came closer she felt his life wasting away. He was dying. Evangeline cried bloody tears as she leaned over her fallen love and cradled him gently in her lap. She did not even know she cried until a bloody tear splashed on the ruin of the calm perfection of his features. She was lost, he was her maker, her sire, her protector, yet now he needed her and she didn’t know what to do to save him. He lay wasting away in her tender embrace, oblivious to the world about him, but knowing somewhere deep within him that someone was calling him back from the edge of the abyss. Evangeline leaned in and touched her forehead to his cooling cheek. The words came to her unbidden, dredged up from the dusty shelves of her memory, and she began to sing brokenly:
"Too ra loo ra loo ral"
She begged anyone that listened to save him. And just as she fell into a pit of despair that he would not ever wake, dawn took her and she collapsed against him, just beyond range of the eastern facing window.

Tristan awoke long before Evangeline did. He tried to get up onto his knees, but fell over onto his side as his broken legs gave out from under him. Damn it, he thought. What did they do to me?



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Not updating…. Till I get at least one more review… wow im lowering it so quickly