First Dance -Prologue-{Edited}

This is my first novel. I am relatively new to writing and although I have been a member here for some time, I took some time off from writing to research my characters and plot. I could use a little help getting acclimated to the site; it's a bit confusing and would love to hear your critiques. I had submitted it earlier but found I needed to make some serious changes. It is still very much a work in progress.

Thanks,

Elizabeth;)

Prologue
The Beginning, evening, July 6th 1980

He stood along the banks of the Potomac River watching, waiting. The only sounds he heard were the chirping of a lone cricket and the rhythmic sloshing of waves hitting a not so distant pier. Warm wind swirled around him. Heavy branches slapped gently slapped against his face but he did not stir. He remained fixed behind the weeping willow embraced within its dewy limbs. It was so humid that everything was moist to the core exhibiting the fullness of life expected at this time of the year. But for him, despite the fact that the air was dense and moist tendrils of hair clung to his scalp, his skin was cold.

With a baleful glare, his eyes reached beyond the tall iron gates of the grand estate. Crimson roses gleamed under the silvery moonlight. Mixed with soft lavender wisteria, they stretched across the iron trellises that graced the veranda. They twisted together giving the appearance of barbed wire along prison gates. Still, his prey was in sight. She was the one. He knew the certainty of that in as much as he could taste the energy in the atmosphere around him. The air was charged. Its pungency lingered in his nostrils as clearly as the scent of the damp earth and long dead leaves underneath his feet. It was so warm, so enveloping. He wanted to bathe in it like a baby still in its mother’s womb. He could almost touch it like he would touch her. His dug long nails into his palms as he tried to chase away the tingling sensation he felt on his fingertips. His body stiffened. Closing his tired eyes, he leaned his torso against the tree. Eagerness threatened to lurch from his chest as his foot rhythmically tapped against the trunk in anticipation. Tiny pricks of electricity traveled up his spine causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He was so close to fulfilling his goal. All he had to do was wait for him to leave her alone for just one moment.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Shhh,” said the little one. “Ya don’t want to wake Mommy, now do ya?”

Dual sets of dark eyes raked over the child’s flesh like hot coals. They drifted toward her, never letting averting their glare. Isabel, her lips quivering, shook her head terrified that they might hurt her.

“Mommy, said I shouldn’t talk to you,” she whispered from behind a pink gingham sheet.

“But we’re your friends,” said a soft voice as it coaxed Isabel toward the closet.

“No, no, you’re not. Mommy said you’re not real,” replied Isabel.

She breathed in a wisp of acrid air. It smelled of decaying roses. Resisting a choking, burning sensation, she released a stifled cry and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe that would make them disappear. Please don’t let them hurt me, she prayed within. How she wished her daddy were here. He’d make them leave.

“If we’re not real, then what are we?” prodded the other one. Her blood-drenched eyes looked to her sister, urging her.

“Besides, we know your name and we told you ours,” said the first one.

Isabel’s stomach clenched into a tight ball as the thought of telling her mommy about her friends in the closet again scraped the recesses of her mind. She still felt the slight sting on her tiny bottom. A reminder from her mother of the last time she’d spoken of her “imaginary” friends and yet, her child’s mind knew that something was amiss. Another wave of fear flickered through her.

“Your skin looks funny,” said Isabel as her oil-slick eyes perused the pallor in the faces of the girls.

The fair-haired girl, Megan, had long, stringy, crimson-soaked hair. Chrissy, the smaller child was the Yin to her Yang. She had the same pale skin but her hair was as black as coal and just as stringy and odd as her sister’s.

Suppressing a sneeze, Isabel retreated from the now faint fragrance like that of the flowers from her mother’s garden emanating from them. She thought the scent seemed far more pleasant this time.

“Why is your skin so gray?” asked Isabel.

The pulsing knot tightened within her demanded answers as she gazed at them in awe through heavy black lashes.

“Are you ghosts?” she asked.

“Shhh, happy birthday,” said Megan.

She leaned closer to the child and stroked her silken head with cold fingers. Soft pink fabric twisted around her tiny fingers as a trembling Isabel backed into her headboard. Isabel gulped back hot tears and hugged her knees to her heaving chest.

“How did you know it’s my…” Her fragile jaw quivered.

“Quiet,” said Chrissy, as she placed her fingers upon Isabel’s lips. It was icy and slick.

“We’ll tell you tomorrow, but tonight,” she giggled.

“Come and play.”

She hissed a faint whisper that turned Isabel’s blood cold.

“Yes, come and play,” said her sister.

Isabel’s curiosity overcame her. She reached up to touch the girl’s face. Cool mist was the only thing to greet her. Dear God, they were ghosts, she thought. Fear catapulted her to the security of her pink canopied bed. She scampered away to the farthest corner behind her grandmother’s mahogany rocker. She reached through the spindles and grabbed her new doll and her favorite teddy. She shielded herself behind them as if they were centurions guarding the castle gates from evil. Her mind swirled. But were they evil? They said they were her friends. She didn’t have any friends. They had been very nice to her after all. Maybe, just maybe, she could keep them.

The soft rap on the door chased the visions back into the darkness as Isabel froze where she stood. Flyspeck fingers gripped the spindles of the chair, like a fly caught in a spider’s web. Her pitch-black eyes darted nervously back and forth as sheer stark fright coursed through her when her eyes detected a tall shadowy figure standing in her doorway. Only the sound of his voice, like a warm summer breeze, eased her angst.

“Daddy?” she called from behind her castle gate. She could hardly lift her little voice above a whisper as the cold fear waned.
Isabel inhaled deeply letting relief wash over her like a warm wave. She wished her daddy could wrap her in his arms and chase the fright away.

“Is that my little princess?” he asked as he walked in.

Isabel’s heart quieted and she dropped her lashes quickly to hide her tears. Daddy’s here, she thought. He’ll make them leave.

“Isabel Aisling Dubois, what are you still doing up?” he continued chiding her with mock displeasure.

“Aw, sweetie, you are so sleepy,” he said.

His voice was soft and soothing as he watched tiny fists rub furiously against her long eyelashes.

“Shouldn’t you and Imogene be asleep by now or are you too excited about your big day tomorrow?”

“Wow, five years-old,” he said as he scooped her up, grabbing her new baby doll, Imogene, along the way. A glimpse of her swaddled in his arms as an infant flashed through his mind. Yet, she still had the eyes of an old soul, he thought. My how she’s grown.

Isabel wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Burying her head in the crook of his neck she drank in the scent of him. His black robe felt kitten-soft and smelled of vanilla, tobacco and wool. He felt like home.

“We, we were just playing hide and seek, Daddy,” said Isabel as she climb into bed. Her little heart tumbled to the pit of her stomach. She wanted to tell him but the thought of seeing that look that rested behind her mother’s eyes in the eyes of her daddy’s scared her more than her strange new friends.

“Daddy?” she asked sweetly. Her black eyes peaked out from behind ebony bangs, bright with anticipation.

“Yes, Baby?” he said.

“Can you tell me a story?” asked Isabel. Her father laid her down on her soft downy mattress. Panic slipped back to grab her. All that came to mind was please, don’t leave me daddy.

“What would you like me to tell you about? Fairies, princesses or unicorns?” he asked chuckling when he turned on her tableside lamp and saw it.

It was molded into the shape of princesses and fairies dancing around a willow tree. A painted fox figurine lied in wait nearby. His wife must’ve gotten them for her while he was away. This is the last business trip I’ll take for awhile, he thought. Oh, how he’d missed her.

“No,” she giggled. “Ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” he exclaimed tucking her into her pink ruffled bedspread.

“Won’t you be scared, sweetie?”

“No. You’ll protect me.”

“I sure will. For now and forever,” returned her father cheerfully.

Tilting her head back, she peered at his face and her rosebud cheeks broke into a sweet angelic smile. The sparkle in her father’s eyes rained down on her, glowing like moonbeams on ocean waves. They only accentuated his high, chocolate-hued cheekbones and broad, hawk-like nose.

“So will you, Daddy? P-leeeease?” she squealed.

“How would you like an early birthday present instead?” he asked pulling a black velvet pouch from his pocket.

“A present for me?” she beamed.

He handed her the pouch and inside was the prettiest necklace she’d ever seen, a heart-shaped skeleton key with alternating vines of white and yellow gold. A tiny gold cross was at the bezel where it dangled on the white gold chain. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head as he grabbed the trinket and clasped it around her dainty neck. Then he peered through her blinds, closed his eyes and whispered a prayer, or so she thought.

“Oh, Daddy, I love it,” she exclaimed, “and I’ll never take it off.”

“Promise?” he asked smiling. He’d hoped his eyes did not betray the foreboding in his heart.

“I promise. But Daddy, I still would like a story. Can you p-leeeease?” she pleaded.

“Um, not tonight, baby. Maybe tomorrow,” he said stooping down to place a gently kiss on his daughter’s head.

Her dark eyes peered into his silently begging for him to stay. His heartbeat softened as he held her in his arms and rocked his sweet baby until he felt her breath deepen into a silent still slumber. Softly he placed Imogene under his daughter’s delicate lace covered arm and draped her with soft covers of pink perfection before he tiptoed toward the door.

Suddenly, a dank, foul, stench seeped into his nostril catching him off balance. Not wanting to stir his child, he kissed his daughter’s cheek and said his prayer once more. Then, just as quickly, a breath of rose scented air passed by. He turned off her bedside lamp and left the room.

Tomorrow never came.
~~~~~~~~~~

His eyes focused on the third story window with the ruffled curtains waiting for the figure in the window to leave. as the light finally flickered out he felt the stillness in the air. Even the crickets silenced themselves. Perfect. The time had come. Urgency drove his body to lurch forward. He had waited so long. His heart should’ve been thundering within his chest, if he’d had one, he thought. This must have been how Eve felt just seconds before her lips devoured that decadent fruit. The sheer joy of tasting her was upon him. He swallowed remembering the way the feel of the metallic liquid felt when it trickled down his throat but hers would be the sweetest yet. Only she would save him from this eternal hell. He held no remorse for the others. They had kept him alive. Sometimes small sacrifices had to be made for life to continue. Such is life. But now, he was sure she was the one that held the power within. It vibrated in every spark of life around her. All he had to do was take it.

Brushing dirt and dried bark off his black silk shirt, he casually pushed himself away from the tree. He tried to take a step. What? What was happening? He couldn’t move his legs. A slight prickling flickered under his skin. Every nerve in his body cried out for sweet relief as a blistering sensation tore at his insides. He tried to scream but he had no voice. He clawed at his throat, his abdomen, everywhere trying to find a way to end this torment. Hot, seething fire consumed him, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His felt his muscles contort but he was powerless to move.

Make it stop! Make it stop! No! I’ve come so far. I’ve waited so long. Not again! Though he heard the shrieking within his head, his voice would not break free as a black hole opened under him yanking at his very soul. He tried to resist but the pull was too powerful.

“I will have her. You can not protect her forever. I will be free. If not tonight, then it will be tomorrow. You will see. This I promise you.”

A resonant voice boomed within his head. “You will not have my daughter, vrykolakas. Not today, vampire,” he said. The sorcerer’s voice cut through him like a hard cold scythe.

“Not ever.”

Tomorrow has not come.