Welcome to Gaia! ::

Author's Note: Alright, I'm opening myself up for this due to the fact that I need some criticism, harsh or otherwise. I'm only posting a section of Chapter Five because the other Chapters are being corrected by my Beta and the others have already received mass criticism.
Also take into consideration that the bold dialogue is what I'm having translated into French.


Chapter Five
June 28th, 1888;

His vision was red as he stalked quickly and quietly through his childhood home, the screams of those he had already slaughters ringing in his ears.

The screams didn't phase him.

They didn't slow him down in the least.

He came the door to his mother's private sleeping chamber and paused, he heard her heavy breathing as she rushed through a prayer; begging for the safety of her soul and the outcome of the nights events. The growl the escaped him was barely human as he pushed the door open to reveal his mother cowering in the middle of the room holding her rosary.

Her dark hair was tousled from sleep and her eyes were full of fear. Her once pristine white sleeping gown was covered in the blood of a simple maid that had went to awaken her.

"No... Do not harm me." She whispered in disbelief as she backed away from him, shaking her head.

Lucien didn't say anything as his bloody red vision narrowed on his prey. He slowly walked around her, circling her like an animal examining the threat of his mark.

"Stay away!" She shrieked as she darted to the opposite side of the room to grab a heavy iron candle stick to defend herself with.

This invigorated Lucien. It excited him to have his prey so afraid of him that it would run so he lunged at her, grabbed her by her biceps and pushing her against the wall.

"I am your mother, you cannot harm me. He will not allow you to harm me, you beast." She whispered as she looked upon his face. The face of the boy she had coddled and soothed as a child. The face of the young youth that had held her hand when they buried the still borne babe that was to be his sister. The face of her murderer.

"This is your fault," he seethed before burying his fangs in her jugular.

Jolting upright in bed, Lucien's hand immediately went to his chest only to feel his nonexistent heartbeat. He released a long breath before letting his hand fall from his chest onto the blanket that was tangled around his narrow waist. He looked down at his hands to see that they were shaking, trying to calm himself he ran his hand through his hair, "Mon dieu... c'est quoi çe bordel est à gauche avec moi?" He whispered to himself as he took a quick glance around his room.

Carefully untangling the covers from around himself, Lucien stood up from his bed. The room was unnaturally stuffy, which caused him even more discomfort. Stalking over to the heavy curtains, he pushed them apart and threw open his balcony doors to let the cool night air hit his bare skin. The sun had just fallen below the horizon and the red-purple hues of the sky were slowly fading darker and darker.

He breathed deeply through his nose as he closed his eyes, letting the air cool his nerves as well as his body. The dream had been more vivid than ever, and with the intense vividness came the extreme uneasiness the dream always caused him.

The blood shouldn't bother him because of what he was; but it did. Though, it wasn't the blood that disturbed him and shook him to his core; it was the fact that he caused the blood shed.

When he opened his eyes he was a lot calmer; backing away from the balcony and to his bureau. Lucien pulled out his normal attire before quickly dressing, wanting to get out of his bedroom quickly. Looking into the mirror on the top, he realized how unkempt he looked; a full beard was growing on his face and his hair was a disaster.

Realizing that he couldn't go out looking like a street urchin he lite the oil lamps that were around his bedroom, casting a light glow throughout the room. With the light - which he had no need for to begin with - he shaved his face clean and brushed out his hair before pulling it back.

Satisfied with how looked he dried his face with the cloth by the basin before taking several long strides to his door; with a flick of his wrist he unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.

The house was quiet. He could hear William bustling around on the main floor, the cook and Harvey were in the kitchen; the cook was humming to herself and Harvey was eating. He slowly walked down the stairs and turned into the dining area where William was washing the long dining table. "Good Eve William," Lucien said as he strode to the old man.

William turned and looked at his employer, "Good eve, Mr. Gautier." He cleared his throat before saying, "You have a visitor today, Sir."

Lucien felt his eyebrows raise in surprise before inquiring, "Who?"

"A Miss Lorraine Whitworth. She arrived around Midday to see you. It appeared as if she rode her horse here, Harvey held the horse while she came to the door."

"Stupid girl," Lucien muttered to himself before turning on his heel. "Tell Mrs. Worthington that I will not be attending supper this night and to serve it to the house staff."

"Alright, Sir. May I inquire as to how long you will be gone?"

"Most the night, no doubt," he replied before stepping into the foyer and strode out the door with long strides. Upon getting to the stables he chose he'd take Zephyr out for the trip since his exercise was limited to once a week. The animal was temperamental; he hated to be saddled by anyone but Lucien and tried to buck off anyone who thought to ride him.

Lucien grabbed the lead rope and attached it to his halter before leading him out of the stall and to the post; tying him up there. He quickly placed the saddle blanket over the horse and set the saddle on in one fluid movement and fastening it. Lucien went to mount the horse when Zephyr balked, Lucien sighed and patted the horse's hindquarters before saying, "It is alright, Zyphyr. Calm yourself." When the horse stopped pulling Lucien untied him and mounted the animal before grabbing the reins.

Zyphyr, being the wily animal he was, didn't bother starting off in a trot like Lucien would have liked; he started at full speed leaving Lucien in control of only which direction he was headed.

I actually might.
Though I'm wondering what are you confused about?
Maybe it's something I can clear up or explain.

I set it in 19th century France and yes it's paranormal also.
Lucien is a French vampire who has migrated to England.