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Hate, Fate, and Potatoes

Summary:
How did Carlisle Cullen meet his fate on that cold night in England?


Notes:


1. Fate, Hate, and Potatoes

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1638   Review this Chapter

“Seems like that Cullen boy has decided to crash our party, Nigel.”

Wilcox was standing at the mouth of the sewer, partially hidden behind the metal grid. In the seventeenth century in England, vampires weren’t simply a myth. To the people of the world, they were a reality. A reality that needed to be purged.

“Crash our party?!” Nigel growled indignantly. He hobbled to the metal grid that opened up into a country road, seldom traveled. “How the devil did he find our party to begin with?”

Wilcox shrugged and kept his well trained eyes on the young man coming near. “Dunno. But he’s brought his own party with him.”

Nigel peered through the grid. His older, more abused eyes almost didn’t see the ravenous mob following the local vampire hunter. “Oh. So it seems.”

Wilcox nodded. “So it seems.”

“Can they see us yet?” Nigel asked quietly, watching the bobbing torches and pitch forks approaching. He laughed, thinking that it was a very silly thing for townspeople to do. Didn’t they know how powerful vampires were?

“Not yet, they can’t. Their mortal eyes are too far away,” Wilcox answered, turning away from the grid. He leaned against it and massaged his temples.

Nigel eyed him thoughtfully. “You assume I’ll bolt, don’t you?”

“I don’t see why not,” Wilcox snapped. “You’re crippled and you saw what they did to my Elizabeth! You saw!”

Nigel saw the anguish on his friends face. “Then I’ll stick by you.”

Wilcox opened his eyes. They were glazed over with frustration.

“I won’t run,” Nigel promised. “I can’t run.”

Wilcox looked down at Nigel’s mangled right leg. “No,” he agreed, “you can’t.”

“Then it’s settled?” Nigel asked politely. “We are brothers, Wilcox, and you know full well we’d die for each other.” Nigel chuckled, as if he made a joke. “We’ll wait for our brother to arrive and pounce on the filthy blood clots.”

Wilcox sighed his agreement. “I preferred it when the older Cullen was leading the blood clots, actually.”

“Yes. He didn’t know what he was doing at all,” a new voice came from outside of the grid. The two men turned to face their friends. In liquid motions, the grid was ripped from its place and then, when all were inside, thrust into the wall again.

Adam, the one that spoke, greeted Nigel with a firm handshake. “We found a good one for you.” Adam motioned for Samantha to step forward. Samantha presented Nigel with a small boy, shaking and crying. His clothes were covered in dirt and filth and, when he shook, flakes of mud fell from him.

Nigel sniffed the boy’s equally filthy hair. “Smells lovely,” he purred.

“I don’t think we have time for that, Nigel,” Wilcox said in a warning tone.

Nigel growled, “But I’m hungry.”

Wilcox laughed. “That won’t matter as soon as the Cullen boy gets here! We need to attack then run, got it?”

Nigel didn’t answer and Adam and Samantha could feel the tension mounting.

“Got it?” Wilcox asked again, more threatening.

“Of course,” Nigel groaned, placing the small boy in a corner. The boy, still traumatized, didn’t move a muscle.

“You want to attack them?” Samantha demanded, as if the entire plan was idiocy. “You do realize that Aro has had more than enough of your shenanigans. If he so much as thinks that we’re up to something again…”

Wilcox said nothing. He only had to look at Samantha to silence her.

“What we need to do is chase them into the sewers. It’s our territory and we know it better than the ones who made it. Once they’re in, we dose the torches and kill as many or as few as we want. Unless, you’d rather run.” Nigel said the last sentence so quietly that Adam shuddered. Cowardice in your brother’s time of need was unforgivable.

“I’ll stay,” Adam offered.

Samantha, however, was under no obligation. Seeing as she wasn’t a brother, she didn’t want anything to do with their schemes. Which she never failed to point out.

“I’m not doing this,” she announced.

All eyes looked away from her as she disappeared down the tunnel.

“Ready?” Wilcox asked.

“Three…two…one…” Adam inhaled and slammed through the grid. He ran around the mob so quickly that they weren’t sure if there was anything behind them at all. Adam stalked them quietly while Nigel and Wilcox waited for their prey behind the walls of the sewer. They watched as Cullen stopped and whispered something to the man next to him. Nigel and Wilcox held their breath. The mob halted abruptly and Cullen raised his torch high in the air.

“If you return the child we will promise to be merciful,” he announced.

Nigel and Wilcox rolled their eyes in unison. They frequently used the mercy ploy to seduce their prey. It was the last thing they would fall for. The man who Cullen had spoken with held eerily still. The wind ruffled his hair and Nigel, downwind, could smell the familiar bitter-sweet aroma. The man must be the child’s father.

The child knew this.

“Papa!” he shouted, dashing to the mouth of the sewer.

The mob, after seeing the boy, shouted angrily. Most of their words were incomprehensible and nonsense curses. But Nigel and Wilcox did hear one clearly.

“My son! That’s my son!”

The woman’s voice split the ears of those around her. She rushed to the opening of the sewer and Nigel and Wilcox flashed a smile. They hid silently and watched as the woman scooped her son into her arms and cradled him. The boy cried harder than before with his mother. He sputtered a warning, trying to point to Nigel, but the mother didn’t listen.

“Margaret, no!”

The father, now distraught, rushed to his wife and pulled her away from the sewer. They stood only feet away from the lip of the opening, Cullen and the mob were right behind the man.

“Farley Smith, what were you thinking?” Cullen hissed when he saw Nigel’s glowing white face. The mob, stunned, hesitated. It was their first mistake.

Adam shoved the man in the back of the mob which started a panic. The domino effect easily trapped half of the mob inside the confines of the narrow walls. Cullen was trying to encourage the mob to get out, but it didn’t work. Nigel pulled Cullen by the hair and presented him to Wilcox.

“I found a good one for you,” he chuckled.

Just as Wilcox was about to rip open Cullen’s neck, Cullen pulled out a freshly carved wooden cross. He waved it around in the air. Nigel and Wilcox shared a look that said what the hell is he doing before Wilcox threw the cross to the ground. Relishing the moment, he leaned in slowly.

Too slowly.

Farley took out a peculiarly shaped dagger and sliced Wilcox’s head from his shoulders. Adam and Nigel had no time to react because, as soon as the writhing body hit the floor, the mob had seen the bravery. The crowd pulsed forward, jabbing comically as Adam dashed down the tunnels, forgetting about his crippled friend. Nigel, before hobbling away, wanted badly to extract one last act of revenge. Farley had been the one to destroy Wilcox, but Cullen was the one who had started the mob.

He let out a baffled call in Latin but Adam was gone.

Nigel took hold of Cullen’s shirt collar and dragged him down the tunnel, the mob storming after them. Although Nigel was crippled, he was still able to outrun any mortal. Cullen had managed to pick up the cross and proceeded to poke Nigel’s right leg with it. Angrily, Nigel found the nearest grid to another opening and threw Cullen outside.

“Give. Me. That.” Nigel snatched the wooden cross from Cullen. “I can’t take you seriously with that thing! You wave it around like it’s some powerful Christian magic, but it’s not. Stop it.”

Cullen seemed more horrified then his usual confidence would allow. He knew that there was no escaping a vampire.

“They’ll miss you dearly, I think,” Nigel said quietly. He stooped down and bit Cullen’s neck, enjoying the brief snack. He pulled away and hobbled off. Cullen watched in agony, the blood pooling around his neck, and knew what Nigel had done.

Soon he would be one of them.

He waited, groaning and in more pain imaginable, and listened to his own heart slow its beating. The air was calm where he was, which he was glad for. He wouldn’t want his friends and family to discover what had happened to him. The crippled one did this to him. Was there dignity in that? Cullen closed his eyes and willed himself to get up. On his first attempt, he moaned and slumped to the ground again. It took him another eight tries to finally steady himself. The throbbing ache in the cavity of his chest was spreading to the rest of his body. His limbs felt as heavy as lead as he trudged towards a safe haven. There was a small farm nearby and he knew harvest season had only recently ended. It would be easy to hide in the potatoes.

Cullen tried to smile, but it was too painful.

Potatoes…

All the way there, his heart felt like it would pop out of his chest. It had stopped beating and his head was dizzy. The blood ran through his veins sluggishly and burning. With every step he took, one foot in front of the other, pain shot through his spine. Tears leaked from his shut eyes and dribbled down his chin. It hurt too much to exist. He would shortly become the thing he feared most. His father, what would he think if he knew?

No one must know.