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Afterglow

Summary:
The in canon tale of the daughter Rose never thought she could have. When my mother found me, fate seemed to link us together. Not only was I the daughter she never dreamed she'd have, I was unusually unappetizing for a human. However, being raised by vampires does not come without conflict. This is my tale about growing up Cullen and finding love in the most unexpected place. The world's largest coven is about to get a whole lot larger!


Notes:
Sorrowfully, I do not own the Twilight saga or any of its characters. They belong to the glorious Stephenie Meyer. But Emmalie is MINE, as is the plot. :)


15. Kidnapped

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 2266   Review this Chapter

I was vaguely aware of where I was, but I felt like I was trapped in a dense, white fog-like the time I came out of having my wisdom teeth removed. The rest of my memory came in blurred snapshots.

Fairchild International Airport's 'please no smoking' sign ......Leah sloped against Eleazar under the overhang......me in the stranger's cold arms...Eleazar driving out of the terminal in his shiny, black Lexus... the slow-paced security check...... a passport being pressed into my fisted left hand ......the flight attendant saying, "fasten your seat belts".... the evil smile of the cherub in the row next to me; beside her a frightened, mousy girl....the rumbling of takeoff and then the ghostly drone of classical music.

"Sir, would she like a blanket and pillow?" an animated voice asked. My eyes fluttered at the question and for a moment I forgot where I was. My head was situated against something frozen and stonelike. I shivered unconsciously.

"No," denied a dark voice. It was a cold bark, not the polite refusal most people give. It was not the voice of anyone I knew. Where was I?

I sat up in a jolt, embarrassed to find my head in my captor's lap. Warily, I took in my surroundings and recalled the horrid nightmare I was living. His handsome, cold face took note of my obvious despair, warning me not to try anything stupid with a clenched smile.

The flight attendant, a red haired, middle-aged woman with too much makeup, just stared at us disapprovingly. She must have thought I was one of those child brides stuck in an abusive relationship. She looked at me for a moment in forced pity and said, "I'll just set this right here in case you change your mind." Her hand was visibly shaking as she sat the package at his feet like a skittish dog. She almost withered under his intimidating presence, but she turned and sauntered off in time to regain her self-righteous composure.

I swiped up the package and ripped out the thin airline blanket and threw it around my shivering shoulders, trying to calm myself. My posture was ridged with anger. I glared out the window, the tension mounting. I wanted to start screaming at him, but I was afraid he would take me to the restroom and use me as his mid-flight snack. I stared out the small portal of an opening, the white clouds forming an endless mountain range beneath us. My thoughts veered to my family as I regretfully palmed my pocket. My cell should have been with me. There was no speed-dial without it and I didn't leave a note. How would they know? And once they did, would they come to rescue me?

"My family's going to cut your body into one inch squares starting with your genitals and then invite the entire town over for a bonfire. When they're done burning your pathetic carcass, they'll dance around on your ashes and spit on your charred remains," I claimed, trying to convince more myself than him. He however was amused by the threat; his pale lips turned up and his eyes partially concealed beneath his dark shades seemed to be laughing.

"Are you sure you're a Cullen? Brutality is not one of their defining family traits," he whispered, his breath fanning upon my collar bone like cold draft seeping through a cellar. Flinching away, I glared down the partially lit aisle, keeping my eyes guarded from his smile that was all too alluring. I hated him; I wasn't certain I could be by him a second longer. He was entirely too cocky, too arrogant and too pigheaded. From my extensive reading of Cosmo, I knew exactly what type of man he was: asstard.

Escape came in the form of the window which I gazed out of, fuming with resentment. What were they going to do to me when they found out that I was really talentless? Drink me? Use me as bait?

"My name is Demetri by way," he introduced, as if I cared who he was. Apparently the man didn't appreciate the concept of the cold shoulder. I growled at him, just glancing over my shoulder so I could shoot him with my death rays. He thought this was comical as well, for he chuckled lightly. Further aggravation sizzled in my being, like hot coals fanned back to their fiery life. Entertaining my evil side, I began imagining my captor dying in different agonizing deaths. But this only lasted so long, because I knew Papa Car would have been shamed by my thoughts.

"Why is it that you do not appeal to my senses?" he demanded, roughly pulling my arm and sniffing it several times. Appalled at his rudeness, I flinched away, cuffing my bruised arm protectively.

"Go to hell and stay there," I muttered, wishing I could punch his boulder of a head. But his big eyes filled with light and he decided to taunt me further. He eased back in his ridged airline seat, giving a counterfeit sigh of comfort and assessed me further.

"My, my, are we not lively? We will have to wean you of some of that spunk. No one takes a brat to meet the Maters," his accent was smooth and exotic. I hated myself for shivering at that god damn voice. My mother had told me once that vampires were to be alluring. It was an advantage of being a predator. That was the reason.

I turned around to notice that there was a young woman also sharing in his amusement. Her face was round and without human flaw. She had an almost childlike beauty. Her eyes being big, her cheeks full like a porcelain doll's. I had always found porcelain dolls scary: cold and dead. This one was no different.

She stared at me with hidden crimson pupils, eyes that were barely covered by dark brown contacts.

"What say you Jane, after the layover in Vienna, you and I switch traveling partners? You could teach her some manners," he proposed, his voice still chiming with wicked amusement. Cringing at the name, I sat back in my seat. She must have enjoyed my little fright, because she laughed as well. It was a shrill laugh like window chimes in the wind. Threateningly, she ran her nails on the arm of the small women she was sitting next to.

"No, but thank you kindly for the offer. I'll teach her manners when we get there. I do adore a peaceful flight. My mute little pet here suits me just fine," she seductively stated. I took that moment to eye the other captive. She was a thin, frail thing with fawn, brown hair. Freckles covered the bridge of her pointy nose. She was silent and scared. Perhaps she was truly a mute.

Just then my sight was obstructed by a cart selling a plethora of tax free perfumes. It made its way down the aisle and we were silent for a moment. My mind flashed to Leah, and I jolted up to look for her among the row of seats. Among the passengers there wasn't one head that matched her charcoal locks. I was going to jump over him and search for her in frantic frenzy, but a sharp tug pulled me forcefully to my seat.

"Sit down girl. You're going nowhere," he hissed in my ear, his iron hand still upon my arm. I pulled my bruised arm away indignantly. He then sat back once again.

"Where is Leah?" I pressed, getting not only his attention, but the attention of annoyed business men everywhere. Until now, he had been overly cautious about bringing attention to us. My outburst had heads turning in our direction. His hand clamped over my mouth, and shushed me in a wickedly sweet tenor. He chuckled lightly, selling his actions for playful when they were anything but.

"So help me girl, you will behave or we will make the last moments of your life miserable," he growled, only for me to hear. Tears burned in my eyes, regret in my stomach and sorrow in my heart. I was going to die. He had just confirmed it.

When his hand lifted, I took a big breath and let a sob seep out. Tears now flowed freely, trailing down my flushed cheeks. He looked at me unsure of what to do, as if of all the things he expected me to do, he had never considered this. Offering no privacy, he just watched me cry. It was as if he had never seen tears before. Jane too just watched, her eyes filled with what appeared to be envy. They looked on almost painfully.

"Madame," he said, motioning to the red haired attendant who had come to see if she could help. "If you would fetch us some..." but he was caught up by my weeping, he stared with his brows low. She looked at me, again the business men sighed.

"Some tissues?" she offered, filling in his blank.

"Yes, right away," he confirmed, hasting her with a snobbish wave of his hand. Not more than a moment later, he shoved a box at me. I took it gladly, but it did not come without orders.

"Wipe your eyes immediately and cease your caterwauling. Your conduct is inappropriate," he scolded in a hiss-statements that could only belong to an era a century ago. They meant nothing to me, I just cried all the more. "Discontinue this at once!" But my sobs grew louder.

Demetri looked shocked and then looked to me, his mind searching for remedies. My unceasing upheaval had him changing his tactics. I could tell that he was pulling at straws, desperately wishing everyone to mind their own business.

There was no telling what he was willing to do to deflect this unwanted attention.

His voice was quiet, so I barely heard him. And the words were did not fit him.

"Youcanstop weepingbecauseit willbejust fine," he muttered sulkily. It was slurred together and mumbled but he had said it.

Jane tossed in her seat in pure disgust.

Sniffling, I dabbed at my sore eyes.

My crying stopped; I was not sure if it was because I had run out of tears or he had really comforted me. After that I was exhausted and I curled up into a light sleep, beneath me a reluctant stone pillow. The false sense of warmth overwhelmed me as I dreamed of a thicker blanket being tucked around me. The warmth seemed so authentic that I slipped deeper into an undeterred sleep.

I woke a second time when someone reached around me and secured my seatbelt. Not too soon after I was jostled by the grating of the landing gear upon the runway.

Embarrassed yet a second time by my sleeping conditions, I shot up when the attendant announced our arrival over the crackling speaker. Jane got to her feet even before the seatbelt sign turned green, propelling the small women in front of her with small barely discernible shoves. Demetri preceded to unbuckle first him then me.

I stood compliantly and followed him out, no other escape before me. No carry-ons among us. Reluctantly, I walked the funeral procession down the aisle into the terminal. There was a convenient store pedaling foreign cigarettes, a bakery selling huge croissants and danishes, along with a small pizzeria selling over-priced spaghetti dinners.

I walked, dragging my feet like any good prisoner. The giant guard followed me at a close distance. At one point I contemplated running but his frigid hand stopped me mid takeoff.

"Not a wise choice," he reminded, his voice smooth. So I followed Jane, his hand still around my wrist as if I was a badly behaved child.

"Who is Popeye?" he curtly asked, letting Jane march ahead into the crowd.

At first, I felt like being smug and not answering him, but I gave in.

"My name for my father," I said flatly, wondering silently where he had heard it.

"You called for him in your sleep," he explained, reading me better than I cared to admit.

I looked away embarrassed by the topic. He however, did not seem to notice. I do not know what I expected, he was heartless by nature.

"Your friend is coming. She shifted on us shortly after Eleazar dropped us off. She is being brought by crate. Fully tranquillized mind you," he informed as we quickened our pace to catch up with Jane. I do not know if this was said to cause me to be further disturbed or if he was telling me as a kind gesture. I just nodded, soaking up what I could of my morbid little reality.

Jane was standing in a line, her hand on the wrist of the taller girl. It was somewhat amusing because she appeared to be with her older sister.

I looked up at the sign and noticed we were in a the security check to board the 11 o'clock flight to Pairs

"Paris?" I inquired in surprise.

I was sure we were going straight to the death trap in Italy. He did not confirm our destination; he simply pushed me in front of the man with the detection wand, down the boarding platform and on the next plane full of uncaring faces.

The uncertainty of where I was going and what was going to become of me, laid heavy on me, making breathing a chore. All I knew for sure was that I was alone in this.