Night World

Everyone was awake before sun rise, anxiously waiting in bed to begin what was sure to be a wonderful day, for it was the Mayor's daughter's twenty-first birthday. Birthdays were always celebrated with no cost in mind, even more when it was one of the Wormwood's. They felt as though they dealt with enough death and decay that it would be a nice change to celebrate something happy; this is also why pregnancies were such a big event for the Town. It was an exciting time. That is, for everyone besides Charlotte.

She sat on the windowsill of her bedroom looking over the town despising the fact that everyone would make an extravagant event of today. Was her birth really that much more important then everybody elses just because her father was Mayor? She felt as though she had earned nothing in her twenty-one years. It had all been given to her. And she hated herself for it.

Then, on the other hand, she hated the fact that people that did not even like her would come to celebrate, just for some resemblance of peace. It was her birthday, why should she not be able to do what she wanted? Why should she have to have a party? Everyone would get scooped into the excitement and alcohol and they would soon forget what today really was.

Charlotte shut her eyes as she dragged her knees to her just, resting her head on them. “Happy Birthday,” she whispered into the darkness of her room, sure that no one else would say those two words to her.

A knock reverberated through the door, startling her even though she knew who it was before opening the door. Every year since she could remember her mother would come to her room in the early morning, just as the sun started to peek through, and help her dress for the day's events. Though she did not expect her brave enough of coming this time. Charlotte sighed, standing up to answer her bedroom door. She opened it before turning around to walk back to her spot, leaving her mother to come inside.

“Good Morning, darling,” she smiled, shutting the door softly behind her. “I know you may still be upset-”

“May,” she scoffed, turning her head towards the window.

“But the young man is going to be arriving soon, so I think you should be in your best clothes for him,” she finished, sitting herself down on the edge of Charlotte's bed.

“Oh, come now, mother. Don't be afraid to say the word,” Charlotte seethed icily, “my betrothed, finance', soon to be husband. Pick one,” she shrugged, standing. “I don't feel why it would be necessary to impress a man that I am already promised to.”

“Charlotte,” Amelia sighed, placing her hands in her lap, “could you please try to understand where me and your father are coming from?”

“I understand where you are coming from, mother. I just do not appreciate being lied to.” She turned, the sound of her nightgown rustling echoing in the dim room.

Charlotte took a seat at her vanity chair, looking in the reflection of the mirror that hung on the wall. Her mother stared back at her, a pained expression she did not even bother to try to hide etched in her tan skin. She knew she was being hard on Amelia, she was acting like a child. But the one person she thought would never betrayed her had. She would be whisked to some strange, new town soon where they denied the existence of Demons, where they would laugh in her face for believing in such childish nonsense. She would have to start over completely new, knowing no one. Not even her husband. This would be the last birthday she spent her. Charlotte took in a sharp breath as she bit her bottom lip. This would be my last birthday with my family, she realized, a thin rim of tears filling her bottom eyelids.

“What are we doing this year,” she asked, her mother standing abruptly. “With my hair I mean.”

Amelia gave her daughter a wide smile, walking towards her with her arms outreached. “I thought maybe braids,” she ran her fingers through Charlotte’s hair, bending down to rest her chin on her shoulder. “Something simple, but something that pulls your hair away from that beautiful face of yours.”

No one had seen Miss. Wormwood during the day. She had chosen to lock herself in the Manor and await for the party and her fiance's arrival. Everyone was shocked when they heard the news. Nobody had ever expected her to marry, it just was not her cup of tea. Whispers could be heard all day coming up with accusations of what could have made her change her mind. But most importantly, who was the man taking her away?

The day was passing quickly; everyone paying too much attention to the tasks at hand and gossiping rather then the time, but by the position of the sun on the sky they knew the Party was about to begin shortly. The citizen's began to rush around, in more of hurry to finish up the day's work and get dressed. Even though the Mayor said he was just like everyone else in Town, they dare not show up in anything but their best at his house. For them, they saw it as a sign of respect. For Charlotte, she saw it as a ridiculous waste.

A ball of nerves sat in her stomach as she stared out her bedroom window. Her fiance' would be there in less then an hour. In less then an hour her entire world was going to change. Everything she knew before was going to be just a faint memory in a year or so. For all she knew, tonight was the last night she would spend with her family. So why was she in her room, ignoring the knocks and calls from the other side? One simple reason. The man from last night.

She couldn't remove him from her mind; those penetrating blue eyes. She had even dreamt of them the night prior. It had been so long since she had a dream. So long since she had such a nice sleep. Charlotte smiled softly, touching her lips as she recalled how the man's lips felt on her's in the dream, a light blush filling her cheeks. Another knock echoed in the hallow sounding room, causing her to jump in fright.

“You have to come down at some point.” Charlotte's oldest brother's voice was muffled by the wood. “It is your party.”

“Go away, Sebastian.” She glared at the door, falling down on the foot of her bed.

Sebastian sighed, leaning on the door, “I would, but mother and father told me to not come back without you. The guests are going to be arriving soon.”

“The guests,” Charlotte laughed. “They are the Townspeople. Not guests.”

“That has to be the crudest thing I have ever heard you say, sister.”

Charlotte stormed over to the door, swinging it open. “That is not how I meant it to sound,” she yelled. “I was simply saying that they are people that we see every single day of our lives. They are not guests in that manner. They have all been to our house before. Most of them everyday.”

“Tonight is different,” he stated simply looking up at his older sister. “Plus, I would enjoy your company tonight,” he smiled sadly, avoiding her gaze. Charlotte had always been able to read him better then anyone else. She always knew what he was feeling by just one glance. Sebastian did not want his sister to know that he was already missing her.

But Charlotte already knew. She sighed, shutting her bedroom door as she stepped into the hallway. “Fine, I will come with you.” They linked their elbows turning towards the stairs. “But you cannot leave my side tonight,” she warned, yanking his arm back.

The forest echoed with the sounds of the citizens unlike any other night. By this time they would usually be crawling into bed afraid of their own shadows. He had heard glimpses of what was happening that night; Charlotte's birthday. He smirked as his mind replayed her name in his head. She was peculiar, that one. And he had almost had her last night.

Damon shot up from his horizontal position on the creek bed, frustration seeking from his pores. She was almost his. If only that old man had not come and taken her away as he did she would be with him at this very moment. But there was always tonight. If she was going to leave once, no doubt she would try again. This time he would make sure that she couldn't go back inside that damned barrier.

The Manor was aglow with candles, music and loud chatter from the guests. The smell of sweets wafted through the air tangling with the scent of flowers that had been placed all around to make it seem more appealing and festive. Everyone was exuberant and as Charlotte had earlier predicted, not one person had wished her a happy birthday. Even Sebastian had left her side to frolic after Anna.

She sat in the corner in an armchair as her eyes darted through the masses of people. Some were by the food spread, some by the beverages, some tucked in corners having private conversations but most were on the dance floor—which was regularly the dining area—dancing with their partners, smiles spread across their faces as they forgot about the dangers that lurked outside. Charlotte could not help but feel a bitter anger towards them all.

The sound of hoof prints trotting along the dirt roads of town emitted through the air, only to stop once they reached their destination for the night. A man stepped out of the carriage donned in the finest dress clothes one could possibly afford. He carried a cane in one hand, which was more for show then use as a crutch, while a bunch of wild flowers swallowed his other. This was the night he had been looking forward to for some time; the meeting of Charlotte Wormwood, his future wife.

“Charlotte,” she heard her father calling before she could see him. She had made her move to run but was spotted before the chance presented itself. “There you are, darling.” Henry embraced her, taking her by the hands. “I would like to introduce you to Gregory Thomas VI.” He let go of one of her hands, outstretching it to a man who stood behind him. Charlotte could feel her heart slowly start to pick up pace, she couldn't deal with this. She thought she could but she couldn't. “Dear, Gregory, this is Charlotte, your future wife.” Henry smiled between the two, placing their hands together before leaving.

“You,” he smiled, “You look breathtaking.” Charlotte hated herself for blushing but she always did when one complimented her on her beauty. It was something that she, herself, did not see. She looked up at him through painted eyelashes, smiling.

“Thank you.”

“These are for you,” Gregory stuttered out, handing her the bouquet of wild flowers. She was the most exquisite woman he had ever had the luck to falling on eyes onto. Her soft, red hair gathered into two separate braids at the front, rounding her head only to be combined together in a loose ponytail. Her pale blue eyes seemed to pop from her head from the make-up applied to her face. Gregory felt that he was the luckiest man alive, for certain.

“Would you care to go somewhere a tad more private,” she asked, jolting him from his thoughts, giving her a confused look. Charlotte motioned with her head to look around. As he did he noticed that all other activity stopped around them and they were now the nights entertainment.

“I would love, too,” he said hurriedly, not liking to be the center of attention.

Charlotte led him away from the crowds, placing the flowers on a table before slowly making the climb up the stairs in her restraining red gown. It was an awkward silence that greeted them as they made their way to the Manor's library, neither of them knowing what to say to each other. What does one say to someone they are engaged to? She opened the door, taking a candle from the hallway inside. It took her a few moments to get enough light to be sufficient to see each other. She sighed, leaning against the windowsill after she finished her task.

Might as well cut to the chase, she thought, “Why do you wish to marry me,” she asked, crossing her hands over her chest in a defensive manner. “We have never met a day in our lives.”

Gregory wringed his hands together, taking one step closer to her, “I have heard many stories of you, so pardon me, though I feel like I already know you. I must say that none of them did justice on your beauty.”

“I believe one compliment is enough for one night,” Charlotte snapped. “What did these stories say exactly?” She could not deny her curiosity to know of what others, whom she had never met, were speaking about her.

“That you were undeniably stubborn, unlike most women in this time of living. That you had an air of elegance about you, though you never hold your tongue-”

“And I am sure this is what every man wants in a future wife,” she scoffed. “Did any of the stories retell my utter neglect of wishing to be married?”

“No,” he stuttered out, his eyes starting to dart around the room. He's kind of pathetic, isn't he, Charlotte thought as she made her way over to the couch that Gregory was standing next to.

“I do not believe in marriage,” she explained, sitting down. “It something that I never wanted to take part of. I never found the appeal in it. Why should I view it as a necessity? Who says that if I choose to not get married that I am worth nothing?”

Gregory sat down next to her, his body tense as his mind tried to process what she was trying to tell him. “So, you wish not to be married.” He tilted his head, a quizzical look on his face.

“I honestly don't have a choice in the matter, do I?”

“I would prefer a wife who did not hate me before our marriage even began,” he chocked up a laugh, turning his face slightly towards her. “Is there anything I could do to change your mind about marrying me?”

“I have already come to terms with the fact that you and I are to be wed, Gregory. There is no need to change my mind.”

“But,” he turned his body completely towards her's, his hands buried in his lap, “it is not what you want to do.”

“My father wants it. If I choose not to be married I would not be able to stay here anyway,” she explained. “So, I either agree to marry you, or I agree not to and find a sufficient way of keeping myself alive on my own.” The man in the forest, she thought, a smile trying to tug away at her lips.

“So you are agreeing to marry me,” he asked, a light shining through his eyes. I wish he was not so naive.

“Yes,” she smiled, though not for him, as she nodded her head.

“Spectacular,” he exclaimed, jumping off the couch, “wonderful, stupendous. You have made me a very happy man, Miss. Wormwood.” He extended his hand for her to take, helping her off of the couch. “I am the luckiest man alive.” He gave her a slight hug, before turning for the door. “We must go spread joyous news.”

“I will join you in a moment, dear,” she smiled, standing still in her spot.

“Whatever you wish,” he grinned before opening the library door. “Oh,” he stopped, turning around. “Happy Birthday, love.”

Her heart sank as she watched the man shut the door behind him. He had been the only one to wish her a happy birthday, and now she would have to break his heart. She could not marry a man like him. Someone so soft spoken and gentle. Charlotte made her decision as soon as she laid eyes on him. She was leaving. Tonight. After everyone lay down to sleep.