Forbidden

Chapter One:

Rochelle knew she was dreaming, she had to be. 

Once again she was standing on the edge of the cliff face, the hard, rocky ground beneath her worn out, satin slippers were already warmed by the rising, scorching sun. The unblinking, orange eye of the Gods above rose slowly over the distant waters, she could clearly hear the waves of the waters crash against the rocks below her. Just like in every dream before, Rochelle wore an elegant satin ball gown, the hem of the dress was torn and caked in dried mud in a hazed to escape the dangerous men that wanted not only to destroy her but the creatures she loved and protected.

The dark green shawl that she wore barely covered her bare shoulders, Rochelle felt herself shiver as the light, sea breeze danced across her skin, and a small smile came to her face at the thought of finally being free from the dangers that was back at the village a thousand miles behind them. 

Her fingers then went to the silver chain that hanged around her neck, holding a locket that was simply tucked away between her breasts; it was her family crest, the locket once belonged to her mother and yet; Rochelle wondered how she knew that; her mother died when she was just a baby.

This isn't real. This can't be me! I mean this woman has pale skin almost the colour of cream, dark ebony curls and let's not forget gorgeous!  Rochelle thought, sighing to herself. I'm tan skinned, too tan for my liking, plain looking, and thin; I am not curvy at all, not like her anyway.

And yet, Rochelle knew the truth, it was her. 

She was there. On the edge of that precipice, in that body. Two men stood on either side of her, the one on her right was a little closer, as he took her hand into his own; Rochelle breathing slightly hitched at the burning passion that burst throughout her body, shaking her to the core, she loved this man with all her heart and soul, she would die protecting this man. He raised her right arm a little higher, the sleeve of her dressing falling back revealing the angry, bloodied welts that was from the effortless struggling against the shackles that those vile men placed her in. Rochelle wanted to turn her head, to look at him, feel his lips upon her own one last time but her dream body failed to do any of that.

She didn't care, for she already knew what he looked like anyway. His long, dark blonde locks tied back by a black ribbon, some mistake it for a light shade of brunette; his fine suit of navy blue with a sash of purple and white, Rochelle also seen a glimpse of his wolf cufflinks. Shouts were heard in the distance, followed by that of the approaching sound of horseshoes clicking against the gravel road, both men growled darkly, as Rochelle was pulled behind them closer towards the edge, just seconds later Rochelle was plummeting.

She did not scream, not a single scream escaped from her; her body twisted and turned; arrowing downward like an Eagle would do on its chosen prey. Her weight propelled her faster as her feet pedalled effortlessly, the only sounds she could hear was the light flapping of the gown, the wind dancing past her face quickly- the shawl floated towards the water below just beyond her reach, her dark brunette curls flared around her like a waterfall. 

She smelled the wind, tasting the salt from the waters below; sucking in deeply as she took her final breath and simply awaited her fate. Then she heard them once again just like before, the voices chanting the same, familiar yet unfamiliar verse and she joined them. Her heart raced faster as she waited to feel the impact of the waters and the sharp rocks below, then she felt it- the sudden jolt of electricity run throughout her body, going through every cell. Sharp yelps and howls of a wolf were heard from the edge of the cliffs above, Rochelle whispered a silent farewell to the animal.

And then nothing.

Total darkness.

Rochelle opened her eyes with a slight gasp, staring through the swirling darkness at the ceiling of her bedroom; pasty sweat caked her forehead as she willed her heart rate to exceed back to normal. 

It was banging so hard against her ribcage that she instantly thought she was close to having a heart attack, Rochelle laid very still; afraid that if she made any sort of movement it would make things worse, her eyes wide, blinking at the patterns on her ceiling. I'm not on some cliff edge, overlooking some ocean, in some weird country. I am not wearing some dress that looks like it belongs in a museum. And I don't have elegant, ebony curls; I have brunette hair, straight brunette hair- no ebony curls here.

Rochelle took a deep breath, held it in for a heartbeat or two then let it out, real slowly. And she did it again.

Then again.

And once more.

It was a technique that she and her old childhood best friend, Ruby learned in the open circle gatherings they used to attend to with their grandmothers; the small coven was lead by Rochelle's grandmother, Shelia or Lady Shelia to the coven, that was when Rochelle believed in all of that stuff.

Which she didn't anymore.

When she was growing up, learning the ways of the Wicca was her drug; in her teenaged years, she believed and relied on the magic she was taught from an early age to help her father defeat cancer. But all of the 'magical' herbs, remedies and spells she performed, failed and her father, Leroy still died.

When it was safe for her to move again, Rachel turned to face to look at the clock on her wooden, nightstand.

A witching hour too, no doubt and right before All Hollows Eve.

Oh shut up, I don't believe that crap anymore! I'm Jewish! Who ever heard of a Jewish witch anyway?

And she almost can never quite fall back to sleep after that, sitting up in bed; Rochelle combed her fingers through her hair, pulling on the ends and watched as the knotted locks sprang back into place. She had gotten the hairstylist to shape her fringe in a slight side-sweep; it tended to fall over her face making her feel like she was mysterious in some way. 

With her heart still hammering away, Rochelle knew she needed a glass of water. Sweeping of the covers, getting to her feet a little too quickly for her liking- Rochelle pressed her palms over her closed eyelids in an attempt to stop the room from spinning.

Okay, now she needed something stronger other than water and ice cream in her system, but after the last alcoholic drinking session, which was still a little blurry for Rochelle. Something had to have happened as her b***h of an aunt will not let her forget about It, kind of snubbed that little idea out like a smouldered flame. 

When she was steady again, rummaging through the darkness; Rochelle stubbed her pinkie toe on the corner of her antique chest, cussing a few curses out loud before quieting down, remembering that her aunt and uncle were light sleepers.

She then remembered that her uncle was still away on one of his ever so long business trips, and her aunt was at some two day bookclub meeting, with her glass of water in hand and her bowl of ice cream in the other, she walked over towards the lounge room doubled window, drawing back the curtains, yanking it open letting the moonlight rays into the room that dimly lit it.

She sat on the window still, with one leg dangling outside, her toes lightly brushing against the top of the bushes that grew outside her window, while the other was holding her firmly inside. Before she could even take a sip of her water, the brunette girl went very, very still as her brown eyes were glued onto her wrists, which she realised bloody hurt. The pain seemed to be a part of the dream or nightmare, like the pain on her back from her impact with the waters and the deadly, sharp rocks. She'd waited for it to fade like it had done so before, but clearly this time, it was going to.

Clearly, considering that there were angry welts upon her wrists, welts that had been bleeding and they still bore the pattern of the rough-spiked chains.

Her jaw dropped as a small, gasp of shock escaped from her; with that her one and only cigarette till her payday in the morning fell from her lips and fluttered down towards the garden bed below like a girl dressed in green plummeting from the cliff in Ireland.

Italy.

Rochelle screamed slightly as she turned around to the dimly lit room to face whoever the hell whispered the correction in her ears, but she felt idiotic and stupid as she realised that it came from her own mind.

Sighing once again, Rochelle straightened herself up; turned to close the window but not before seeing a few fruit bats fly past the window, she shook her head muttering under her breath as she drew her curtains, shutting away the outside world and tried to go back to sleep.

She needed to talk to someone, and that someone would be very pissed off if he received a phone call at one in the morning; even if he knew that it was Rochelle calling.

Maybe she should call Bane in the morning, arrange for a coffee and maybe a quick bite to eat, that will surely made Bane come to meet.

Who doesn't like coffee and a free lunch?