Princess' Journey

Chapter 1

    I've spent my whole life running away. Running from myself, my family, my future. I've spent my life running toward my past. Back to safety and familiarity. Back to when life was worth living and not some long drawn out death. I am waiting for my life to be over so that I can finally begin to live again. But, let’s be honest, that will never happen. I’ve been waiting for death to claim me for over 100 years, but when you’re a vampire…death seldom looks your way. But Death will honor me with his presence one day, and I will be grateful when that day arrives. 

    “Alora Anne Marie Vanbushell! Come downstairs this instant!”  

    “Lord, what does she want now? Coming, Mother!”

    Shoving myself up into a sitting position on my bed, I set down my journal, say goodbye to my lavender satin sheets, and begin the long walk down the corridor to my awaiting mother. While walking down the hallway, I look up at all of our family’s portraits hanging on the walls, my sister and myself changing with each one, becoming infants to toddlers, teenagers to young women. All the while, my parents stay the same…never changing.

    I approach the end of the long corridor and stop in front of our most recent portrait, gently looking over the four faces pictured there. My father, Domonik, in his stunning blue suit that only makes his pale skin look like porcelain, his dirty blonde hair hanging down to his eyebrows, his evergreen colored eyes beaming with love for his family, smiling his blindingly white smile.

    My twin sister, Annaliese, wearing her favorite pale pink silk gown, trimmed with pastel purple lace. Her black hair falls in bouncy tight curls past her shoulders, her bright pink eyes made even pinker by the soft color of her dress, smiling like her life depended on it. 

    My mother, Jessabelle, in her jet-black satin gown, her unnaturally blonde hair falling in straight, crisp lines, stopping at her chin, and her bright crimson eyes; the eyes that terrorize my dreams, staring through me with utter disappointment. Her smile sends chills running down my spine; she has the look of a killer. 

    And me, in my bright golden gown, trimmed with sapphires and emeralds around the corset, my onyx hair curled tightly in a bun on the top of my head; my sapphire blue eyes seem to move like the ocean even in the picture. A forced smile plastered on my face.

    I pull myself from the portrait and gracefully descend the rounded staircase toward my mother. She is sitting in her favorite chair by a window overlooking the front garden; her hell hound, Luther, lies next to her snoring peacefully. Hell hounds are our ‘guardians’ for lack of a better word. They keep us safe when we are in public and they help fuel our magic. They are a reflection of us; Luther is the perfect reflection of my mother. He is a black beyond black with bright red eyes and the temper of a volcano. He looks like a mangy wolf if you ask me.  

    Jesus, does she ever feed you! Fortunately, he took a liking to me the minute I was born, so he generally says his ‘hello’ by rubbing against my leg like a giant house cat, nibbling at my fingers, then leaving me alone until his next need for ‘affection’.  He perks up his pointy ears when he hears me enter the room, but keeps his sleepy eyes shut.

    “You called, mother?”  

    “Alora, you know your birthday is coming up and your father and I are arranging a ball for you. It will be a week from Saturday, and all of the most important people will be there! I have taken the liberty to order you a ball gown; I do believe you will love it. Now, on to the dinner portion; since you are constantly gaining weight, I have decided to forgo the cake and what not. We will only be serving drinks and have a small feeding station…which you may take part in; however, I have only reserved for B- to be available. You will get your hair done Saturday morning and the ball will be at 7 o’clock Saturday night.” She says this in a voice an octave higher than normal, probably in an attempt to get me excited for this year’s celebration.

    Let’s be realistic, these things always end with me getting into a fight with some stuck up noble prick, who won’t take no for an answer; and my sister in tears. Not exactly an event I look forward to.  

    Another ball, organized by my overbearing mother, who for some reason wants to make my long, long¸life a living Hell. Fan-flipping-tastic. She does realize she has another daughter celebrating her birthday too, right? “Mother, it is Annaliese’s birthday as well. Surely she too will be celebrated at this er…ball of ours.” 

    I try to keep my voice calm and choose my words very carefully; the last thing any of us needs is another rampage from my mother and Luther. We are still fixing the east wing of the house from last time.  

    “My dear, she is not the one we wish to be the next queen. She is far too soft-spoken and rather weak in her magical skills as well; do you really want to put your sweet sister in a position with that much stress? One where she could easily become overwhelmed and cause panic among the people? No, my dear Alora; that is not something you want. Annaliese will be accompanied by me to the ball, where she will be able to mingle with those of her own stature.”  

    This is her own daughter she is talking about. How dare she insult Anna! She may be weak in her magical skills but at least she has mastered some! I have yet to even develop mine, and Mother wants me to be the next queen of our people! I am well below under qualified.

    I grit my teeth, feeling my sharp canines dig into the soft, vulnerable skin of my bottom lip. Standing my ground, I look straight into my mother’s terrible, bottomless eyes, and with all of the courage I can muster, I say “This is two thousand and fifteen Mother! It is no longer the year eighteen hundred and sixty six! People do not have ‘balls’ anymore, and people sure as hell aren’t subjected to be placed into different ‘statures’! This is Annaliese’s birthday just as much as it is mine, and I’ll be dammed if I let you ruin another one of her big days!” 

    Without realizing it, I had stepped closer to my mother; I was now standing over her pouring all the hate and resentment I felt for her into my words. It takes everything I have to break eye contact with her, and when I do, I find myself staring into another pair of eyes. Luther has gotten up from his napping place next to my mother and was now standing between us, showing me his sharp and slightly yellowed mouth of teeth. He lets out a snarl and the next thing I knew, I was on the other side of the room.  

    I never saw the slap coming; I was too focused on the mangy black mass snarling at my feet. The impact of my mother’s hand on my cheek sent me flying across the room and slamming into the fireplace mantel. Before I even hit the ground, my mother grabs my chin and is holding me six inches off of the ground, and in a snarling voice she says “you are never to speak to me in that manner again, do you understand? You may be turning one hundred and ninety-three years old but I am still your mother and you will do as I say. Now go to your room and do not come out until I say so!” 

    With that, my mother throws me back across the room and calmly makes her way back over to her chair, Luther close at her heels.