A Bride Contested By Vampire And Angel

Chapter 2

My new home was very far from Rosery Village. The town was referred to as Armant, named after an ancient Egyptian town. Half of the town was destroyed back when it had a different name a few years ago. It was rumored that over half of the townspeople were vampires, but it had not yet been confirmed at the time. That did not stop a group of displeased humans from stealing from an armory and blowing up half of the town along with a few of their own. Of course, the rumors were just that, rumors, and only a total of four vampires were discovered among the countless bodies of those that had been caught in the explosion. It was during that outbreak of madness that the true fact to distinguish between humans and vampires was discovered. Vampire flesh burned a bright green when scorched, leaving a greenish, dry and flaky part of their skin where they had been burnt.

It was a tragic occurrence which was sworn never to be repeated, but a sacrifice that helped save many more humans during the next years of the war.

I was seated in the backseat of a classic green car right next to the window when we reached Armant. It was not because I wanted to observe the town and the landscape as we drove by. In fact, I was far too distracted by the tip of the index finger of my left hand. I could recall vividly in my mind the day when the sister at the orphanage gathered all of the children around a middle aged, male doctor and went around the room asking each and every one to enter a different room one at a time. The first few children were taken into the next room and the next thing we knew we heard each child who went in before us weep and whimper.

It was when it was my turn that I finally learned what had caused all the crying. The doctor told me to sit down on a stool and took ahold of my left hand and lit a match with his other hand. It was only for a brief moment but the surging hot pain was enough to make me burst out into tears. By '75, the burn had already healed after the doctor treated it. All that remained was a pinkish scar. There was no doubt about it; I was a human.

The car came to a halt by the front yard of an extremely large house. It was too big to be considered an average townhouse. Even as the left side of the building was torn apart and burned down - probably neglected of all repairs from the damage done to the town by the explosions - it still stood at two stories and could only be referred to as an old mansion with worn out dark wood and large stained windows. In simple terms, it looked like a haunted house. Despite the appearance of the building, the garden in the front yard had lush roses and many flowers growing on the two sides of the cobblestoned path that led to the red front door.

"Here we are..." The driver of the car, an old man whose face I never got the chance to actually see, said. I nodded quickly and got out of the backseat as he left the car and rounded it to get my luggage from the trunk. There was not much for me to bring along. I had to leave my clothes behind at the orphanage for the younger children to wear once they could fit in them. It was the responsibility of my new parents to provide me with more presentable clothing if they did not want to feel embarrassed by me walking around in public with clothes that had visible tears and holes in them.

I kept my eyes fixated on the red door as I walked down the path. The rest of the houses were very well kept and welcoming, but this one stood out like a single cloud in the clear sky. I stopped before the door and was about to press the button of the doorbell when the door swiftly opened with a loud creak. The hinges needed to be oiled if the owners of the house did not want to torture their guests' ears with that high pitched sound.

"Charles?" A old woman dressed in a black dress and a white apron asked in a hurried and husky voice. I was unsure of what to say as I looked up at the maid. The driver was bringing up the one small suitcase I had down the small path to the house.

"It's Charlotte, actually. And yes, that is me," I said with a quiet tone of voice. The maid did not wait another second after I spoke and shoved her hand into my chest. I noticed that there was a piece of paper in her fist, which I took to avoid having it fall down to the ground when she retracted her hand.

"Hurry on up to Miss. Catherine's. We're short on milk and I would like a bag of cake flour in the next thirty minutes. When you're through there, Mr. Phillip's is two houses down to the right. Tell him we would like ten special packages for the week. Ten, no less, although any more would be highly appreciated," the maid explained as she walked around me and approached the driver who had stopped a few feet behind me.

"What does this mean?" I asked, holding up the piece of paper, but the maid ignored my question and took the bag before hurrying back into the house. She closed the door behind her and I was baffled. I looked down at the piece of paper to see that it was actually a small envelope with a crest of some sort stamped onto it with black dye of some sort.

"Let's go," the driver called out while I still observed the envelope, "... Miss Catherine's isn't too far from here." I assumed the maid was too busy to run what appeared to have been an errand herself. Well, I was used to performing all sorts of tasks at the orphanage, so I returned to backseat of the car. The small convenience shop really was not too far from the house. It was about five minutes away by car and about fifteen if I had to walk on foot. I entered the shop only to realize that I did not have any money for the items I was supposed to retrieve. But the maid would not forget something so important so I gave the envelope to the cashier. She was a young girl, a few years older than me, but she did not speak much when I greeted her.

She simply took the envelope with a steady hand when I gave it to her, observed it for some seconds, then she returned it to me when she had seen enough.

"Take it. You might need to use it later," she said with a somber voice and went on to retrieve the things I needed from the shop. I did not think much of the encounter. A lot of people were unfriendly with strangers, but I did happen to notice that there was no visible mark anywhere on her body. It was a rule that everyone be tested in a visible area if they wanted to avoid any trouble. Yet she did not have a mark anywhere on her. The driver had a mark on the back of his neck as I observed from behind him along the way, and the maid from the house had hers on the fist of the hand she had reached out to give me the envelope. But I still did not delve too deep into the thought. Instead I took the items and returned to the car to place them there.

Mr. Phillip's was right down the street. I would have walked down there myself so as to not inconvenience the driver by the short drive, but the maid did say that I had to get ten of some packages from there. Mr. Phillip's place was not a shop but rather an ordinary town house. I could not tell what services he provided and went to knock on the door being ignorant of what I would find.

"Mr. Phillip?" I called out after the first knock had gone unheard. I tried again and after a minute or so, the door opened ajar. I could not see what was inside through the small opening but I had a vague idea that there was a figure standing right next to the door on the other side.

I looked down to the envelope in my hand before I slipped it past the opening. It was snatched away from my fingers the moment the edge passed through.

"You're not Mary," the male voice said. I assumed Mary must been the maid I met at the mansion.

"No. She is too busy to come, but she says that ten special packages are needed-"

"Ten!" The man called out from behind the door. He sounded unpleased with what he heard. "I can hardly get my hands on three on such a quiet day like this! Tell her that five is the best I can manage." I was not sure about what Mr. Phillip said. Mary said ten was needed and nothing less. She sounded absolutely adamant about that exact number.

"I can't return with just that number, unfortunately. She was clear about ten packages," I said through the opening. Silence ensued for the next few seconds until I heard footsteps that indicated that he was moving away from the door and deeper into the house. I never thought that running an errand would be that troublesome. I was determined on going home and meeting the people who might have saved me from a dreadful future in that world. I had to thank them and show my appreciation to them for brightening my bleak future and giving me a chance at a peaceful life. But I could not leave until I had gotten the special order from Mr. Phillip.

Speaking of Mr. Phillip, he returned to the door no less than five minutes later. The door opened wider but only halfway through, and even then I still could not set my eyes on the owner of the house because he was still hiding behind the door. There was a basket right by the door, however, and I assumed that that was what I had come for.

"She's going to run me out of business... that witch. Now leave! I have to tell my other clients to expect nothing but disappointment," the old man grumbled from behind the door. It was understandable that he was angry about supplying more than he could actually provide, but to go so far as to insult Mary in such a manner was going too far. But as I did with the girl at Miss. Catherine's, I did not think too much about it and picked up the basket. The door was slammed against its frame when I walked out. It shook at the hinges, prompting me to look behind me to make sure that it had not torn off from the hinges instead. It was still intact, which was a good thing, I guessed.

"What's in here that is worth so much trouble?" I asked the driver as soon as I entered the car. The opening of the basket was covered by a cloth. I was tempted to look inside.

"Be careful with those packages. They're quite expensive. You would be foolish as to damage any of them," the driver replied. I looked down at the basket in my lap. My curiosity had been piqued. I couldn't help but think that perhaps something I was not supposed to see was in there. But I had to see what it was. I raised the cloth and stared down at the packets of what appeared to have been a red liquid of some sort. I continued to stare at the packets as I was overcome by shock. I felt my heartbeat accelerate tremendously. There was no doubt about it. That dark red liquid in the packets was definitely blood.

"Th-This isn't blood, is it?" I asked the driver with a quivering voice. I looked up at the rearview mirror to see that he, too, was looking at the basket through it.

"It would be best to not ask too many questions, girl. You might get yourself into trouble," was his simple reply. I had many questions to ask, but after what I saw I felt the need to take his advice to heart. Yet I still felt uncomfortable and deeply concerned about everything that was taking place. Was that really blood in those packets in the basket? And if so, what use did Mary have with them? Who were the people that had adopted me? Or more precisely, what were they?