Chapter Text
October, 13th 2013
A girl awakens in a dark room, but not the same one she was taken too. She is greeted by an older female voice in her head.
“Where…where am I ?”
“Hush now child, your dream is over."
“Where’s the light ? Where’s Nathan ? Where’s Mark-?"
“Light? That’s what people always say they see. And yet you wake in darkness? Do you know why that is child?”
“Who are you ? Answer my questions!"
“My my, quite demanding are you ? I will forgive your ignorance, for now. Your brain has been decaying for some time, as has the rest of your body, and it took more time trying to repair the damage. There’s still work to be done, but I’d say you’re almost as right as rain. The simple answer is, you were asleep and mommy woke you up. Now be a good little girl for mommy, and take your medicine.”
“Momm-? I don’t even know who you are or what’s happening ?”
“You are in a hospital dearie, and in the wrong wing by the looks of it…I can see you’re confused, and a little hungry…down the hall you will find a nurse on the graveyard shift. She is tending to some fool who thought guns were toys and played with them with other children. She should help you with that.”
“But what. Is. Happening ?”
“All will be revealed in due time my dear, but for now go to the nice nurse, and get your medicine…"
With that, the disoriented girl gets off the morgue bed, and walks out towards the door, looks up and down the hall, to see nothing. Even with the dim lights on, a darkness still covers the room. She figures it has more to do with a haze in her own vision than the actual lighting. The girl talks again, but it's pretty clear she can only talk in her head.
“What are you ? The devil ? God ?"
“Some may call me that, but the answer is not so easy. It will do you good not to question me.”
The girl feels a pull down the hall as she follows it, and in the back of her head, a chanting sound. As she staggers her way down a couple halls, she hears the chanting becoming louder and louder. She makes her way to a door, entering a room to see a woman tending to a man lying in a bed; or more accurately, the dark shapes of two people, with a red spot glowing in their respective chests - their beating hearts. The girl stands there awkwardly, as the nurse turns, see’s her, and panics. She hears the nurses muffled panicking voice as the girl advances towards them.
“Ahhh! Wha- what is-? You’re dead! You’re dea- No! Please! Don’t! Somebody! Help!”
The nurse begins whimpering and cowering in the corner as the girl backs her into. The girl looks back and forth between the nurse and the patient. The chanting overpowers any other sound in the room; save for the female voice which whispers in the girls ear.
“Feed, child."
And with that the girl gives into her instincts.
----
She doesn't know how long it's been since she's come too. She remembers the blood all over the floor, and all over her. Her only instinct was the run through the cover of darkness.
She has reached the outskirts of the town she once lived in. She feels she cannot come back, she knows she is long dead to them. The only way she knows for sure she isn’t dreaming is the voice talking to her from the back of her head, and that red figure that occasionally appears or disappears past the corner of her eye.
She isn’t about the rule out the possibility that she’s gone crazy. Perhaps with luck this will turn out to be end result of a bad, bad drug trip. That and being dragged to a junkyard while she was barely conscious. And yet this voice and figure is showing her something, and has told her to seek out a house far beyond the towns borders. The more she walks, the more she feels like someone is guiding her, less like the presence is following her, but she is following it.
For the life of her, she cannot tell where she is now or where she is going. It's raining, foggy and heavily forest. It's pitch black, and she's pretty sure she's in AM hours. Of course she couldn't tell, because her watch was broken from being buried for seven months. She muses to herself that all she needs is the sound of drums and a tall man in a dark suit following her around, and this scenery would be picture perfect. What little she can see is a faint light a dozen yards away, seems someone set up a camp.
As she walks closer, she counts twelve tents, each one has a lamp on within.
“It’s funny…you must have gone your whole life, thinking of how…strange life is, haven’ t you ?”
“I didn’t expect this. I don’t even know what this is!”
“Yes, you do. This is but another example of the worlds oddities. In time, you will learn to be grateful for this new chance at life. There are things you will need to learn and do in order to show this gratitude."
“You mean what you made me do ?"
“You did nothing that you couldn’t have already. All I give is the means for you to do so and get away with it. Such is my price. And what is a mother to do than show her children the way.”
“My mother? No. I have had two mothers, and last I checked none of them was…whatever you are. You didn’t give me your name.”
“Come child, do you believe something as ancient, vast and terrible as me, could have one singular name ? If I had a birth name, I wouldn’t remember it. So many people give me different names and titles; The Morrigan, Le Fey, Blood Queen. What you call me matters little. What I am is the god on the other side of the coin. As you have died in darkness, it’s only fitting your new life is in darkness as well. Such is the lives of my children.”
As the girl walks closer to the pitch tents she see's figures standing around the tents staring at her. They seem pretty unfazed by her presence and look as if they were expecting her. She first reasons that perhaps there are homeless people in the woods, which would be the most logical explanation, but that wouldn't explain everything else.
“Why me, though ? What did I do to-?"
“Are you asking if you are special ? No child, just lucky. I can always make another daughter, but I chose you. Walk by my guiding hand, and I will lead you too your truest desires."
“You don’t even know me-”
“Oh hush now, do you even know who you are ? You must have lived different lives in one, wore a different mask at the same ball. You are just as much an enigma as I. But the truth of the matter is you suffered in life, died in the darkness. Alone. Betrayed…Unloved. No one knows the real you, but I can show you the way."
The people at the tents walk up to her. As she gets a better look at them, she sees they are all wearing masks; medical masks, Halloween masks, anything that can cover or obscure their faces. The girl is too tired and confused to really be fazed by this.
“I…I can hardly remember anything. All I remember is that studio, a-and they were arguing. Mark and Nathan were-"
“Were, exactly. What they did to you…what the world did to you can only be restored by the vastest, bloodiest retribution."
“…That’s not who I am…”
“Than who are you ?"
"My name...My name is Rachel Amber."
One of the masked men walk up to Rachel. She can make out a set of headlights turn on, and a blindfold be placed onto her head. She once again here's that ancient, voice in the back of her head.
"And who is Rachel Amber, but another lost girl ?"
----
November 2nd, 2013
A disoriented Rachel is led up a driveway, blindfolded. At her side are two masked figures making conversation with her. She knows she was Rachel Amber, but now she is simply dead to the world. And yet, she’s walking, talking, and breathing, and has been so for weeks. Albeit with difficulty. During these weeks, she finds herself escorted by strangers across the country, who won’t let her see their faces, rarely feed her, and constantly sedate her
.
“So, you’re the new girl ? I must admit, you don’t look very impressive, but we must take what we can get here.”
“I didn’t ask for this. I’m still not 100% sure on what this is.” Rachel says, under her breath.
“Well then, it’s a good thing we found you when you dead. You’ve been in that hole for, what ? Seven months now? If people suddenly saw you walking around, things would get very concerning.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt them.” Rachel says, mainly to herself.
“No one really does, but we have to start somewhere. Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to make something of yourself.”
They stop and hear a door open. Rachel feels herself being ushered in. She can tell that the lights are being turned on as her blindfold is removed. To her curiosity, she is in a high end house, if she had to guess in the hills of Los Angeles. The place is spacious and looks as if someone already lives here.
Rachel looks around and notices she is in a heavy trench coat and a hat to obscure her features. Noticing a mirror on a wall beside her, Rachel sees she still very much fresh from the grave, and only now is her body really starting to recover. She doesn't look months dead as she did when she first awoke. Her skin is a pale grey, her eyes pale, and there’s dark blemishes and wrinkles here and there on her face. She looks at her hand, and see’s it’s wrinkled, her fingernails yellow. Looking back into the mirror, her hair is matted and wet. She’s quite literally a phantom of her former self.
It’s only then that Rachel notices her escorts; they simply resemble random street thugs; one is wearing a red balaclava; the other a face mask you’d find in a hospital.
Another voice speaks up; this one is male and has an Irish or English infliction in his voice; “I’m sure it’s quite a sight, isn’t it ? Can’t have you going around looking like that can’t we ? Although, I’m sure we have a couple of "dens” to spare on the other side of the tracks. But, I have seen those pictures; a pretty princess like you deserves a castle doesn’t she ?"
Rachel follows the voice to a living room. It’s not a standard living room to say the least, unless you’re accustomed to high end houses; Seventy inch flat screen TV; Three piece black leather couch. A fur rug, made from a white tiger.
There is a large window/slide in door, showing a massive pool. The exterior is surrounded by high fences and hedges.
The source of the male voice is a young man; anywhere from nineteen to twenty five years old. To simply put, he is dashing and the looks he’s giving off shows he knows it. A short, dirty blonde buzz-cut, five pack abs and a friendly looking face. His skin-tone was almost indiscernible; his skin was dark and pale enough that he could pass for a really light skinned African American or Hispanic, or at least mixed race. The man looks as if he just gotten out of the pool and has entered the house as he’s drying himself off with a towel. Clad in blue swim shorts, he puts on a black and white Hawaiian shirt and doesn’t bother buttoning it up.
"At the very least, the neighbors won’t be prying, so you should make a decent recovery soon enough. Your confusion is understandable. To keep things simple; you’re human life is over, has been for a while. Now begins a new era in your existence as you shed away your mortality in favor of-”
Rachel waves dismissively at him “I get it. I’m a vampire.” As she speaks. As it turns out, her whispery voice is mostly do to her larynx still repairing itself.
The man gives a friendly smile “Now what gave that away ?” The man dismissively at the two thugs. They bow their heads and walk out without saying a word, leaving Rachel alone with the man. “Too keep things…less formal, yes, you and I are a pair of undead leaches. And not just any kind, but hand picked by the good queen herself. Of course, you may refer to her as mother.”
Rachel shakes her head in disbelief “This is a whole lot to take in at once.”
“Then we’ll go an inch at a time, how’s that ?” He says, which gets a small, if unnerved laugh from Rachel “I’m just here to introduce you to the world you stepped into. If she picked you, you may have a great responsibility on your shoulders. All we wish is that you understand your place in this world.”
“We ? Who is we ?” Rachel asks, showing no actual fear of the man, even if she is uneasy.
The young man walks up to her, wearing a towel around his neck. “Mother’s other children. Her blood flows through all of our veins, and we all answer when she calls. We know she is the true queen of this world, with human tales that downplay her power; and so, we are the true heirs of this world, bastards or no. Perhaps you have read books of history, myth or legends of us. If only you knew who else carried the curse of undeath, or which vampires actually existed within history.”
Rachel laughs sarcastically to herself “Let me guess, one of them is Count Dracu-”
The man hastily covers her mouth, looking left and right in fear. He gives a harsh whisper in her ear “Don’t. Invoke. His name!” He calms down and releases his grip on Rachel “Regardless of what you believe, just know our reach is far and wide. Others seek you too Miss…”
“Amber. Rachel Amber.” Rachel nods.
“Rachel Amber. Know this, we have a hand in quite a few organizations, many of whom are not aware of our presence. For years, we have been watching Arcadia Bay with great interest. We heard her whispers and it was only this October did she finally call.”
“About Arcadia Bay-” Rachel starts before the man raises his hand to silence her.
The sound of his phone goes of -as it turns out his ringtone is “Sunday Bloody Sunday” by U2-, he briefly answers "They found our boys ? How much did they find out ?…Okay, wait for me at the beach, we’ll figure this out.” before turning back to Rachel. “I’m sure you have many questions. I will visit you tomorrow night, and will be available to answer them. In the meantime, I have a previous engagement to attend too. Until then, I suggest you catch up on your beauty sleep. You sure could use it.” The man hands her a set of keys as he walks past her towards the door “Your bedroom is downstairs. I hope you find it to your needs and liking. If not, we can talk about accommodations tomorrow. Until then little miss blue bird, enjoy your stay.”
Rachel looks around her, alone in what appears to be her new house. She walks over to the window and stares out at the night sky over Los Angeles. This is her new life, apparently.
----
January 27th, 2020
Rachel, now resembling a more lively version of herself is resting, naked and floating is relative peace in an isolation chamber. She feels something is in the room with her. Not just the room, but may very well be in the chamber as well. She hears a woman’s voice whispering to her. That voice. The one she hasn’t heard in years.
“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.” It says to her.
Rachel awakes, as her chamber opens. As she climbs out, she reaches for a dark purple, silky bathrobe. She looks to the window and see the sun has disappeared over the horizon. The bedroom is filled with pictures and memorabilia she has collected over the years. On her nightstand sits an iphone on a iphone radio charger dock.
“What does my queen ask of me ?” Rachel replies. She walks up to her radio dock, and prepares to turn on her playlist.
Rachel has spent the past six years is what could loosely be described as “captivity” being thoroughly educated on her place in existence, and what her new purpose will be. She’s been told not to seek them out (“We will be the ones to call onto you.”) Rachel has been waiting for this Queen to call upon her again for sometime. Another rule that was placed upon her was to not seek out anyone she knew in life. That’s not to say she wasn’t one who’d take advantage of the little freedom she had.
“The time has come. A new dawn is upon us, and now I call upon my daughters to usher in this world.”
Rachael nods as she walks to her iphone dock, picking a song to start her evening routine with. Usually her picks are Wonderwall by Oasis; Moments Before the Storm by Poets of the Fall; Working 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton; Allstar by Smash Mouth; Galway Girl by Ed Sheeran; Lithium by Evansecence. It really depends on what mood she’s in. Rachel picks her song, takes a towel off a hanger on her door as she dries off her hair. Any other day, she'd lose herself to the music; lip-syncing, or just singing aloud, whilst dancing to the beat as she dressed up, but now she had to listen.
“And, is there a problem ?” Rachel asks, dropping her nightgown to the floor, picking out an outfit to wear for the night. Many of them range from classy; slutty; gothic to plain and wholesome. Rachel begins dressing up in her pick of outfit.
“As a matter of fact there is.”
The power cuts, as does the song, and a red shape forms behind her. A chill air fills the room and Rachel freezes in mortification.
“You’ve been seeing someone, haven’t you ? Someone you knew in your old life.”