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Sound of the Fiddle	By : Gwyndolyn Category: Twilight Series > General Views: 4517 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.

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The girl named Rabhya pulled her arm as Carlisle held it, trying to get away, though her attempt was weak and her stare settled firmly upon him. She tried again, a mere shrugging of her shoulders until she was finally still and staring at him. Her sad eyes were green, as shocking as the new spring, and tears glistened within them like stars. Carlisle swallowed, his face an expression of adoration and torment... the girl bent her head down, still looking at him through a veil of black hair. Her gaze tore out his heart and left it still beating at his feet. Carlisle felt as though he could see everything that had ever occurred in her life-her whole sad story as he held firmly onto her wrist, his fingers growing cold and his nerves standing on edge.

"Aapka naam kya hain... what is your...name?" The girl spoke slowly, for she was not keen in the English tongue, it would seem. Carlisle opened his mouth as if he would speak to her, but no sound came out through his lips. So, instead, he turned to the watching crowd-they were anxious to see what he would do.

"Go home, all of you!" He said, releasing the girl's wrist. She stumbled to the ground and kneeled there, watching him with wide, frightened eyes. "There is no witch here. She is only a girl."

The crowd wanted more, they wanted greater completion, but they would have to settle for this, and they knew it. "GO HOME!" Carlisle shouted and the crowd was taken aback. As the moments faded the crowd dispersed, with many a hateful look at Carlisle, and snarls-like animals-at the girl. Only Bruce was left, standing completely still with his hands folded across his chest as he watched Carlisle return his attention to the girl.

"Rabhya... that is your name?" Carlisle felt himself smile, and his ears grew hot as the girl smiled at him, brushing her hair behind her ears. Then, she shook her head.

"Rabhya... Rahb-yee-ah. No Ra-bvee-ah." Her words were simple, but the laughter that flooded her eyes then erased the sadness that had been in them before. "What is your name?"

"Carlisle." The young man smiled again, and the dark girl blushed, her cheeks turning a shade of deep crimson. He reached out his hand and took it, wrapping his fingers around her palm gently, before raising the very tips of her fingers to his soft lips. The girl's eyes widened and she flushed an even darker color of caramel red, a laughing trickling through her lips as she gently pulled her hand out of Carlisle's fingers.

"Forgive me." Carlisle chuckled, stepping back. The girl stood before him, wrapping her arms around an object she held tightly against her chest. It was a fiddle. "Yours?" Carlisle pointed to the instrument, and the girl nodded, lowering her eyes, the sadness taking over her laughing eyes once more. "I would recommend that you play that fiddle somewhere other than on the steps of a church." Carlisle said, kindly. "It is likely to incite another riot, though I am sure that you would be in no wrong standing. May I recommend the eastern part of the city, somewhere? There are people there whom I assume would be of better mind than these here. They are not so wealthy, and many of them come from other places."

The young man who had protected Rabhya before now stepped forward, taking one of her hands, making eye contact with Carlisle, though his gaze was not as appreciative as Carlisle thought it should have been. The man pulled Rabhya towards him and she reluctantly followed-she kept her eyes upon Carlisle's face, a tear welling in her eye. As the man told her to follow him-with yet another harsh glance at her savior-Carlisle saw the tear in her eye fall down her cheek, staining the slightly dirty skin beneath it. He thought, for a moment, that she mouthed something to him, though he could not understand what she said.

The two strangers turned a corner around and vanished. Carlisle remembered to breathe and to blink. He smiled to himself, fumbling his right hand at his side as he heard Bruce approach from one side.

"A little more eventful than I would have expected, I must say." Bruce chuckled, looking around the corner, a grin in his eyes. "More so for you, I am afraid." He laughed, tapping his foot. "My, Carlisle, women fall heavy upon you as of late, do they not?" Carlisle remained silent, his face taking a graver tone in the remembrance of the previous night. "And I think that girl was the last gentle face I shall see."

"She was a rosebud." Bruce followed as Carlisle and the two mounted their steeds, Carlisle a bit more downheartedly than Bruce thought he had the right to be. But he did state: "She was a pretty thing." Then, after a low sigh, “I won't see her any more, I think."

Bruce scoffed. "Your fate is set, but you could not possibly know what is written for you. Perhaps you will live."

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The sun hung heavier in the sky and my skin stopped burning in the summer heat. Instead, a colder night time wind blew as Dulal and I made our way out of the city of London-we were encamped half of a mile away from the city outskirts and had made the walk out of London many times daily. We walked fast though, for we knew well that there was a different crowd that lurked among the city's streets after nightfall and I had had enough of an experience already. As we drew near to the edge of the city, we passed through an alley way that was dark and made me nervous to pass through, but Dulal said that it would cut across two blocks of street would end up not having to walk. When he mentioned 'short-cut' I suddenly realized how badly my feet burned from walking with no sandals (I had flung my pair at someone in the hateful crowd earlier that day who had tried to come at me-I think that may be why the crowd began to throw things at me, but I do not know, for I could not understand much of what they had been saying).

Gladly, I accepted the 'short-cut' and followed quickly after Wynn, taking his hand and drawing myself against his side until I felt like he was encased around me securely enough. "Rabhya!" Dulal chuckled in our own tongue, making a mock attempt to shake me off his arm. I giggled. "No, Dulal, I am frightened." I whispered back.

"It is only an alley way!"

"And it is darker within this alley than outside of it. And look, the sun is almost set." I closed my eyes, smiling as I followed after him, clutching tightly to his shirt sleeve.

"There is nothing to be frightened of." Dulal smiled, resting an arm around my shoulders. Just then, however, we saw someone enter the alley at the opposite end, followed by four more people and they were all headed toward us. As they drew nearer, Dulal and I moved aside. The group of five people came to where we stood and four of them passed, however one remained behind. They were all dressed in long black or grey cloaks that hid their faces, but they emitted such a foreboding energy that I had to look away from them. I did not notice the one that stayed behind until he had come up behind Dulal and wrapped his arms around my friend, wrenching him away from me and sending him flying against the opposite wall of the alley. I was in shock at how quickly it had happened that I could only watch for half of a moment as the cloaked man struck Dulal once in the face and sent him flying back to the wall I leaned cautiously against, my eyes wide with terror and my heart skipping beats, unsure of what to do. I began to panic as the hooded man approached me very slowly; his body long and slinking like a cat stalking its prey. My eyes darted to the group of cloaked figures that had stopped and turned as if to watch, doing nothing to aid me in my plight, or Dulal's.

"Help!" I shouted as best I could in a tongue that was familiar to them. "Please, help me!" But it was foolish of me to take my eyes away from the man that was hunting me, for when I looked back toward him he was upon me with his hand wrapped around my throat. "Hel-" and my hands flew to his fist, trying to pry his icy cold fingers away from my neck for I could not breathe. I looked down to Dulal before my vision began to cloud. He was lying motionless on the ground. Tears fell down my cheeks in torrents. I struggled to breathe, vainly pulling at my attacker's stone cold, rock hard skin as he bent down toward me. Then I could see into his hood. I furrowed my brow, my hands forgetting to pull at his death grip as my eyes found his.

Beneath the hood was one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. His eyes were blood red and pulled my gaze into them until all I could do was stare as if I were hypnotized...

He released me from his hold, but I was immobilized as I gasped for much needed breath, keeping my eyes locked with his because I could not move them away. As I gasped for air, he bent down to me and wrapped his hands under my arms, lifting me up with a greedy smile on his pale lips that sent tremors of fear down my spine and my heart jumped to life as I tore my eyes away from his. I kicked and scrambled, but my voice was weak and I did not cry out.

He pulled me closer to him, licking his lips as he tilted his head to the side and pressed my chest against his, causing my head to tilt to one side to keep from colliding noses. Suddenly, my fear turned to absolute terror as I realized what was happening, but I could not bring myself to accept it. Why would this happen to me? This man was a vampire, and I was his prey. I knew the stories and I knew the myths; I knew I would not be able to get away; I knew I could not outrun him or fight him off. Frantically my eyes searched the road beneath me for Dulal's crumpled form and called out to him:

"Dulal! Dulal, help- me!" But my voice was too weak and Dulal was unconscious on the ground.

The vampire pulled my chin toward him suddenly, turning my neck away, but when I looked at his face once more there was the same greedy smile on his pale lips that made me shudder. "I am going to revel in the taste of your blood, lovely one..." He whispered; my jaw dropped as I tried, vainly, to wriggle out of his hold. "Now stop it, little one." He said firmly and pressed my back against the wall of the alleyway, "All of your wriggling and whining will only make this all the more enjoyable for me, and know that. And know-" He stopped and smiled, pressing his icy cold lips against the hot skin of my neck and inhaling a deep breath full of my scent. "-this can be pleasurable on your part."

I scoffed, tearing at his hands once more, trying to free myself even though I knew that would never happen. "You're an animal!" Was all I could say as tears of hot anger and hopeless desperation filled my eyes.

"As are you, girl." The vampire replied harshly, the smile fading from his lips. He placed his finger and thumb on my chin. His fingers were so cold they almost burned my skin. Slowly, watching my eyes as he turned my head, he exposed my neck. I could feel my heart beat faster, and I could feel my skin turn hotter with anger and anxiety that brought forth an extra rush of blood just below the surface of my skin and betrayed my mortality completely. I knew all it would have taken was a very small bite, one that I might have hardly felt, and then I would have been dead. My eyes could not break away from his capturing stare and suddenly I found it increasingly difficult to speak, my throat swelling in panic with the knowledge that I was going to die.

His eyes were black, the deepest, darkest black I had ever seen, unnatural against his deathly pale skin which was translucent beneath the light of the moon shining brightly and high in the sky. There was no light that touched those eyes. They held only one emotion, and that belonged to the greedy smile still spreading ever so slowly across his pale lips until his teeth were nearly bared. And then there was an irksome part of my mind that told me to run, to fight. I knew that was impossible, for even if I possessed the mighty strength it would require to pry even one finger away from me, I would not have the speed or cunning to escape him afterward. Still he looked upon me with the eyes of a blood-thirsty hunter, and still my mind told me to fight. ‘Damn it all,’ I thought, trying to pull my shoulders up around my neck, but the vampire took hold of my chin again and - with a force that threatened to pull my head away from my body - elongated my neck.

“I beg you…” I coughed, my throat hoarse with terror, “let me go!”

“Come now,” The vampire tilted his head and pouted his bottom lip mockingly. “You enjoy a good meal from time to time, do you not?” I began to sob, “Then why deny me the pleasure of sating my-” He sighed and growled deep in his throat. “-immense hunger?”

“Wait, I beg of you, wait! What is your name?” It was the only question I could think of; a poor attempt to distract him and buy myself two seconds more of my life. I was surprised when he replied: “My name is William.” And then, in the time it took for me to search for some kind of emotion other than fear in response to his answer, I heard a piercing shriek that tore through the air. My eyes watered at the volume and intensity of the scream. My breath was taken from me, but when I happened to glance in the way of the vampire again, I saw that he was seemingly unaffected by the noise; he turned his head and I followed his gaze, my breath returning to me in a rush of cold air.

At the other end of the alley way were the other cloaked figures that had passed by before and had – I thought – gone away, leaving their… companion behind. The vampire was looking at them with a strange expression on his face: confusion and question, as if he were pleading his cause to a scorning superiority. Then, he looked at me sharply, fury contorting his once fair face.

Another shriek rent the air and I gasped at the sharpness of the sudden noise. The vampire slowly closed his eyes and released his hold on me. His black lashes rested on his milky skin before his eyes opened once more and his pitch black depths refocused onto my own, frightened ones. Then, with a last growl deep in his throat, the vampire walked slowly away from me and joined the rest of his companions at the opposite end of the alley way where they waited, black hooded, menacing against the soft, pale glow of the moonlight. In an instant they were gone.

My heart stopped beating its irregular, rhythm. I looked down to where Dulal lay as I caught my breath.

“Dulal.” My voice was shaky, for I was still frightened out of my wits. There came no reply at first and I began to worry, but as soon as I knelt down and placed my hand on his brow the young man nearly leapt to his feet, raising his fists before him as if he were still fighting something off. I nearly laughed at his reaction. “Dulal, it is only I, Rabhya.” I smiled faintly as best as I could so that perhaps he would see that in the midst of his fright.

Dulal’s face was a mess. He was bloodied up badly, and his left eye was swollen shut. He placed his hands on his knees and bent toward the ground, catching his breath as well.

I pulled on his shirt and walked slowly away from him. “Come now,” I beckoned, “You had plenty of time to catch your breath while you lay upon the ground and I fought the vampire off.” I was lying, but it was amusing to see his face when he heard me say that I had fought the vampire off, until he realized- with an expression close to that of a cloud passing over his face –that I was, actually, lying and that there was no way for a little woman like me to fight someone like that off.

“What happened?” He asked.

“There were others and they called him off, for some reason.”

“So they’re still here?”

“No, they vanished; into the air it would seem they disappeared.”

Dulal’s face showed some exasperated relief, but then he stood up straight with a wince of pain and took my hand, leading me behind him as he walked quickly out of the dark alley. Still, even though he was as beaten as he was, he wanted to protect me, however bad he fought.

“Let us leave this place.”

“London?”

“Perhaps, but for now, just this alley.” He looked down at me over his shoulder and smiled as wide as his swollen face would allow him. I smiled in return, and walked closer by his side.

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The sun resided lower in the sky, its warm beams now etched with a chiller night wind that was rustling up from the leaves of trees to cool the heated cobblestone streets of London. Carlisle’s father walked down into the garden of his manor, meeting his son who was standing with his head turned up toward the warm late summer sky. “What troubles you, my son?” The pastor asked, and Carlisle acknowledged his presence with a deep sigh like one who has drunk too much wine without taking a breath between gulps. “I love the summer; I love the sun.” The young man smiled, finally turning to look at his father. The wrinkled old man’s eyes were concerned, but Carlisle reassured him with a smile of false ease.

“Tonight is a night like any other.” Carlisle lied, “A job must be done and so it will be done. The anticipation I face may cause me a little strain, if that is what you see in my face, father.”

“Strain, yes.” The old man shrugged, “That must be what I see. But, tonight is a night like any other, as you said, and I right believe.” But there was a long moment of silence between the father and son that held a great deal of awkwardness, until Carlisle’s father spoke up again, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder. “There is naught else that pains you, Carlisle?”

“Naught else, father, upon my word.” Carlisle smiled; it was a forced action and his fair face was taught with an emotion that raked close to annoyance at his father’s questioning. The old pastor thought that perhaps he had better leave his son be, so he sighed deeply and turned slowly. “I will retire within,” He said. “The sun is too hot, entirely.”

The sun was too hot. Carlisle smiled and lifted his face toward the sky once more, nodding a farewell to his father. But when the old man had left the garden and Carlisle was alone, he felt his heart sink. He wished that he could tell his father what he feared would happen that night, making that night a night not like any other. That night might have been his last upon the earth he knew, and his father might have to know the pain of burying his only son and only child. The young man stood amid a patch of wild roses that had taken root in the garden. Their scent was sweet. Briefly, he wondered how wild roses had found their way into the garden when the manor was so far into the center of the city. The question allowed him to forget-for only half a moment-the concerns for his life he was so deeply troubled with and yet had the energy required to hide beneath the mask of his warm smile. Gypsies must have carried the seeds for wild roses when they scrambled into town, for they dwelled far beyond the walls of London, watching.

Carlisle smiled faintly-a true smile-as he remembered the wild girl he had saved earlier that day and sent away from the church. Her eyes he could not erase from his thoughts, and he felt his heart open up to them even though they were only in his head. Had she been a gypsy? The young man thought so, for her skin had been the color of caramel and her hair as black as midnight, wild about her round, wide eyed face that was dotted with lovely brown freckles. The startling color of her eyes shot out through the matted strands of hair veiling her face, and Carlisle knew he had never seen eyes so lovely. The memory of them caused his heart a flutter.

He would never look into those eyes again, he knew, for he suspected that he would die that night. Vaguely he remembered how pleased his father had been when he found that his son had been clever enough to find the residence of a band of sewer vampires-the creatures whom Carlisle and his men had been hunting the night before (of many nights)-and he thought it ironic how the discovery that had given him such great respect among his fellow men would now be his gate to death; in such a way he could only think, for his mind would not go to any happy place to remain there long

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Hello readers! I hope you enjoy my story so far, but I would really appreciate some feedback. It's been so difficult afor me to find time to write anymore that I only hope this story is any good. I like to think so! Please review or rate, I would really like the support!
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Sound of the Fiddle