Just a clarification. Simon was human before Pru turned him. He and Ian met when Ian took some refresher classes at the University when Simon was 18 and a freshman.
Isabelle's family line derives from the Central and South American Jaguar. A small percentage carry the recessive gene that makes them black. These are called panthers. Panther is a common name, not the actual name of the species.
Chapter 15 Frantic
Isabelle drove as if pursued by demons. Something was wrong, terribly wrong with Ian. She didn't know how to sort through the new sensations that Ian had awakened in her when they exchanged blood. It had only been a few days. She felt connected to him on a primal level and right now her senses were screaming at her that something was wrong.
The day had started normally enough. Ian had gotten a call that had pulled him from their bed. Simon, he had told her. He wanted Ian to come up to the cabin for the day, he and Finn had found some things and wanted him to see them before anyone else did. Simon was also apparently ready to let them have Cullen's body for burial, finally. Isabelle also got the feeling that Ian and Simon had talked about Finn and that Ian was worried about him. She had objected to being left behind, quite strenuously objected. She finally agreed to stay behind when Ian admitted that he didn't want her to suffer any flashbacks, especially since she had been having more nightmares now that she had started seeing Dr. Halloway. She also had an appointment with Jack and he didn't want her to miss it. It was important, he argued, for her as well as their relationship. Reluctantly she had agreed, feeling a little lost and alone with him gone.
Just after one in the afternoon she had been driven to her knees, screaming with a blinding pain in her head. She had come too on the floor of the foyer with the entire household, including John, surrounding her. Something was wrong with Ian, very wrong, he had been hurt. There was shock and fear, right before the blow and somehow she knew it wasn't just an accidental injury.
Isabelle had grabbed John. He hadn't believed her that Ian was in trouble. His mistake. Isabelle had let him have it with a slap that had all of her 120 pounds behind it. That and the fact that she had screamed in his face was hard to ignore.
"Get your ass moving before you lose another son, you bastard! If Ian dies because you're draggin' your fuckin' feet I'll rip out your heart with my fingernails and feed you to the fuckin' rats piece by piece! NOW MOVE!" She was nothing if not direct. Screaming at Charles, the butler, to call Witherspoon and get reinforcements into the cabin she had dragged John to the nearest car and shoved him in.
So John Sterling rode shotgun. He glanced at the dark haired beauty that had shoved him into the car and had been driving like a maniac. She had changed from the frightened child she had originally seemed, to a strong willed, stubborn woman that refused to continue to be intimidated by him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been slapped, or struck in anyway, barring Ian's aborted attempt several nights before.
He had failed Richard and then Cullen. Somehow Cullen had fallen victim to the same bloodlust that had consumed Richard. And he had not noticed. He had failed Cullen, failed to see what was happening, failed to save him from himself. Losing him was like loosing Anne all over again. He had been the only part of Anne that he had been able to hold onto over the years.
Ian was in trouble and he sensed nothing. He had failed to maintain a strong blood bond with the artistic child that he neither understood nor had wanted. He had been a quiet, reserved child that seemed to know that his father did not want him. Cullen had stepped in to fill the gap and he had been grateful. He felt guilty about that, even as he had done nothing to make amends. He admired the man Ian had grown into, admitting that he had had nothing to do with Ian turning out so well. He had never bothered to cultivate a close relationship with him, and very slowly John had begun to see that that was a mistake. Never did he feel that as keenly as when, during their confrontation about Finn, Ian had raised his fist to him. Finn had every bit of Ian's love and loyalty, and if he pushed his disapproval of Finn, he would lose what little relationship he had with Ian.
Finn had left the house with his male lover and again John felt the disapproval and anger at his son's choice. His youngest, only twenty-seven had wormed his way into his father's affections without seeming to realize it. He was young, ambitious, business savvy but with a large streak of loving kindness and a great sense of fun. He was one of the few people in the world that could make him laugh. His heart twisted with the thought that if Ian was in danger, Finn certainly shared it. Their last words had been harsh. My last words he admitted to himself. Finn had told him baldly that he loved him and was disappointed in his reaction. That ate away at him; he couldn't remember the last time that he had told Finn that he loved him, if he ever had.
All of his children were extraordinarily different from one another. But Finn and Ian seemed to share a love of life and a lightness of heart that Richard and Cullen had never had. He shook his head free of the cobwebs of the past that clung to him.
Half way through the trip Isabelle had cried out in pain and nearly run off the road. "He's hurting," was all Isabelle could say. She tried to drive even faster, instinctively blocking the pain enough that she wouldn't wreck the car. She didn't block their connection completely; afraid somehow that she would loose Ian forever if she did.
They were on the last leg of the trip back to the cabin where it had all started. The road now twisted and curved into the hills and Isabelle had not slowed in the slightest. The dusk was rapidly growing and there was the occasional deer by the side of the road. The small sports car hugged the curves well even though she was going about 20 mph too fast.
Isabelle was muttering under her breath now. "Almost there baby. Just hang on. Just hang on. We're coming. Shit, gotta drive faster. Almost there." Over and over like a mantra to keep her from falling over the edge of madness at the thought of losing Ian. "He's hurting, oh God I think he's dying! No, no, no!"
