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Dark Irony	By : WaterShadow Category: A through F > Dark Series Views: 2241 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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“Dark Irony”
by: WaterShadow
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Christine Feehan or the ideas which she claims as hers. The characters in here, however, do belong to me. Mine. All mine. Besides, it’s doubtful that she’d write something like this. My writing style is all my own, not to mention the plot idea. In other words, no one steals, no one gets my wrath.
NOTE: Should anyone who reads this wish some clarity on why character names sound familiar, I refer you to my heart-sister Ciara Nightstar’s story, “Dark Travesty.” These are, after all, related, though previous knowledge is not needed to read either...though it’d be best to read “Travesty” first.
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He stared around him, memorizing the details of his surroundings out of a sense of habit rather than any real curiosity. Glowing neon lights flashed advertisements for supermarkets, video stores and sex shops into his sensitive, disinterested eyes.
Passing a reflective store window, he absently took in his reflection. Light hair, dark eyes, tall body. His face had a firm chin and high cheekbones. His forehead was in proportion with the rest.
He had no interest in his reflection, but it had come to him that he hadn’t seen his face in a while, so he took the time to examine it, to hold the memory of a non-vampiric face close to him, to remind him of what he wasn’t...yet.
People passed by him, always managing to avoid brushing up against him, but he felt the scrutiny of female and male gazes alike on various parts of his body. He was not self-conscious about it, but he knew that it was more than that.
He simply did not care.
If he were to suppose things about his body, he could think that it probably surpassed some of the rather descriptive mental images he was gleaning from the minds of the people staring at him, but it did not occur to him.
His life had no color. Even seeing the color of his skin, hair and eyes in the minds of others did little to make his existence more bearable; in some ways, it even made it worse. Glimpsing their emotions made him aware of being empty after he would leave their thoughts.
Had he actual emotions, he would have been surprised at the thoughts running through the heads of the men and women staring at him. Half of them were imagining him in various stages of undress, others were focusing on the shape of his lips (what they found so fascinating about them, he did not know, though he could well imagine their reactions at seeing the teeth they hid), others, the color of his eyes (dark brown).
He didn’t care. He hadn’t seen himself in color in a mirror for the past few centuries.
His purpose in life was to hunt the undead before he became one himself. He could not hope for a lifemate to guide him back into a land of color because he could not hope. He did, however, wish.
If there is any beneficent deity out there, please send me and my brother a lifemate. Every night upon rising, he would repeat this wish.
His younger brother was another reason he still existed. Until he could take care of himself, he would help him. He is like a puppy in many ways, my brother Alaric. Even after the loss of his emotions, he managed to keep part of his sense of humor with him. I suppose I have as well...
Mental contact with his brother was peculiar. It both ennervated and drained him at the same time. He tired of remembering his past as a being full of color and laughter just so he could communicate with his sibling.
Without really looking up, he dodged the yellow light he saw on the ground. He wasn’t comfortable with bright illumination.
Wasn’t....comfortable? A second shock came right on the heels of the first. That light is yellow!
Colors, he knew, could only be seen when in the presence of one’s lifemate, so logically, he knew she was near him, right at this moment. Presenting further proof to this conclusion, his heart sped up in excitement at the prospect of finally being able to meet the person capable of his salvation. He knew his sight would fixate on her instantly, leaving little room for anything else.
He spun around, instantly ready to rush up to her and claim her as his own, just as his instincts were screaming at him to do. After all, I could do no else.
There was no one in the area. The shadows were inky pits of black to normal human vision, he knew, but to him, they were simply areas of dim light, each shadow featuring perhaps one or two people. That man is wearing a red jacket. The woman with him has blonde hair. The two men over there have black-streaked brown hair...
Where, then, was his lifemate? As if to mock him, the colors he was seeing dimmed, but did not fade out completely. It was almost as if his lifemate, sensing his attention, had run away as soon as she had felt his interest. Why would she have done that? All I wish to do is fully possess and mark her as mine.
That was not something to run away from. He knew he would have to track down his errant lifemate, then.
All of a sudden, it hit him like a wave of water he wasn’t able to dodge. My brother needs me. Typical.
”What is it, Alaric?“ Remember, be supportive, don’t mentally damage him, don’t malign him...
”I can’t move.” Garran wondered absently if his brother was aware of the faint whine in his voice (though how a mental voice could have a whine in it was anyone’s guess), but decided that he probably wasn’t. I suspect that if I could not move for some unknown reason, I would whine as well.
”Why might it be that you can’t move?”
For the course of the next half hour or so (in which Garran was tempted to tap one of his feet, but refrained from doing it through sheer Carpathian willpower), he heard a tale of the most amazing woman in the world (in Alaric’s opinion), her surprisingly powerful psionic abilities (which they must have been, in order to freeze even a young Carpathian like his brother), and the vampire who got taken down by a teaming up of his brother and his self-proclaimed “most amazing woman in the world” (though Garran privately thought that Alaric did not really contribute to the fight, but he knew that would come with time and practice).
Garran took a moment to absorb it all. Alaric’s woman got attacked by a vampire which, from the sound of it, she could have handily taken down temporarily, if not completely destroyed, before my brother intervened. He seemed particularly angry about her hair being shorn off. I am not entirely sure why he kept mentioning the jacket.
”I have never heard of a woman called ‘Ryan’ before.” He knew it would sound completely irrelevant, but in all truth, he could not think of a single thing to say about the matter.
”Nor have I, but how do I move again?” A barely pereceptible pause followed, where Garran belatedly sensed his brother was very irritated at his inability to break free of his lifemate’s control, but was also fiercely proud of her strength. How confusing.
”I will look,” he finally said, ”but you might simply have to wait for her power to wear off.” It occured to him that their parents would be overjoyed to hear about the now-guaranteed survival of one of their children. ”Shall I tell Mum and Da about your new lifemate?”
”No!” Garran winced at the shrillness of his answer, though he could understand the cause well enough now; embarrassment.
Deciding that talking further to his brother would strain him more than he could appreciably take at this point in time, he instead sent a tendril of his conscious mind into his brother’s body, warming the locked muscles and reminding them that they were supposed to allow movement, not prevent it from happening altogether.
A warm wave of thanks rewarded him for his efforts, and today, feeling it did not make him more keenly aware of his solitary nature. Instead, it reminded him that he had an immediate, concrete purpose now; his lifemate.
Whether or not I welcome these emotions back into my body, it is irrelevant now. I must find my lifemate and protect her from the undead...though perhaps it would be more advantageous to search for her before I fully declare such things.
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I am not sure when the updates will come, since this story is harder for me than any of my others have been, but I am reasonably certain that there will be at least one chapter a week. I love reviews, so if you would care to leave one, I would be thrilled.
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Dark Irony