The Vampire's Daughter Page 2

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "Aconite," he said. "It is very rare, and dangerous to those who are not ill. Take it and follow my directions. All will be well."

  "Thank you, kind sir," she said.

  He bent down and quickly placed his lips on hers. It caught her off guard. She had never kissed before and the cold from his lips ran like a shock down her spine. She pulled back and stammered to find words. He reached up, placed his hand behind her head, pulled her forward, and kissed her again, harder. She put a hand to his chest. She had meant to push him away, but she didn't. After a moment, she instinctively leaned into him.

  The heat from her body warmed even his frozen touch. He did not expect to enjoy her. He had not kissed a living girl in so long that the idea had almost repulsed him. But now that he could feel her warmth, taste her tongue, smell her skin, he found it quite pleasant. It took him back to before, back when he too was human. He had forgotten.

  He wanted to keep going, to make sure she felt desire rise so she would be more apt to return to him for more, but his keen ears heard the voice of the priest back at the house.

  "It won't be much longer now," the priest said. "We best find Hannah."

  The dark stranger, breathing heavily now, pulled back from her. She blushed at what she had just done. Her mother had taught her to be more lady-like than that.

  "You should go," he said. "Your sister won't last much longer. Here, take this as well." He placed a gold and ruby ornament suspended by a long gold chain in her hand. "Even if you should reject my generous offer, wear this at all times. It will protect you."

  Hannah looked down at the necklace and for a moment wondered what exactly it protected her from. But she forced herself out of her thoughts and back to her sister.

  "Danielle," she murmured as the man began to retreat into the woods. "Wait!" she called. "I don't even know your name."

  "Vincent," he said as he kept walking. Then, like shadows at morning, he was gone.

  "Vincent," she repeated to herself. Finding herself alone behind the old, grey barn surrounded by fog in the dark of night, she returned to her cottage.

  Part I

  Art thou any thing?

  Art thou some God, some Angel, or some Devil

  That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stand?

  Speak to me, what thou art.

  Shakespeare

  1

  Bessarabia, Autumn, 1742 a.d.

  Victoria woke to another dark morning in her room in the castle. She wasn't sure of the time since the heavy tapestries kept the room dark and warm. The fireplace crackled and cast a golden glow. Victoria jumped from her bed and felt a shiver run up her legs under her nightgown as she tiptoed to the window. She pulled back the thick drapes and smiled at the gloom. It was well after daybreak, but the sun was hiding behind the clouds. She loved the winter. Most days were shrouded in a thick dreariness in this mountainous area. It was Sunday, but there was no sun – she would be going to church. She breathed in the crisp air and let the tapestry fall back over the window. She rang a silver bell to call for Tessa, her lady's maid, to help her dress. Tessa would not be happy about having to help Victoria during the day, but she would not disobey her Master's daughter.

  Victoria opened her wardrobe to reveal a closet full of exquisite gowns of every color. She chose a subdued, pale blue one. It was brand new, a gift for her eighteenth birthday. Or maybe it was for Christmas. She could not remember as both were the same day. She sat in front of the mirror of her vanity and began to pin her dark brown hair up off her slender, snow-white neck as she admired the amulet that hung over her heart. The gold, ruby-encrusted necklace she always wore had once belonged to her mother. She had an amulet exactly like it of her own, but after her mother's death, she decided to wear this one instead; it helped her feel close to her mother. The way the amulet reflected the firelight made Victoria's cheeks and lips even redder against her pale skin.

  "Good morning, Tessa," Victoria said as Tessa entered the room. "I would not have called but I need help with my corset."

  "Of course, Miss. I am tired is all. These cloudy days and your more frequent town excursions are murder on my rest," Tessa replied.

  Tessa neither smiled nor curtsied to her Ladyship, but Victoria did not insist upon such ceremony. Their home both was and was not a traditional setting. Victoria's widowed father was Master, and she was Mistress, but the women her father kept as maids and servants were far more than that to him. The women had been serving their Master since long before he had ever married and the intimate relationship they carried on with him made them fiercely jealous of Victoria's superior station. The home was an awkward place, full of silences and angry stares. But as long as the women did what they were told and were polite, Victoria let them keep their secret feelings and didn't impose the superficial rules of polite society upon them. It was not as if they ever had guests to impress anyway.

  "Just help me dress, and then you may go."

  Tessa helped lace Victoria up as tight as she could. Victoria breathed in deep to make herself more comfortable. It was a bit too tight, but as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, she admired the shape it gave her. She loved the way she looked in a corset. It made her waist small and her breasts full. She believed her chest was rather on the small side without a little help.

  "Is there anything else I can do for you before I retire?" Tessa asked. "May I ask Helena to prepare you some breakfast?"

  "No, I need to leave soon if I am to make Mass."

  Tessa felt relief that the girl was not hungry. Victoria's typical breakfast of eggs, milk, and the occasional slice of ham made Tessa almost physically ill. The only thing that made the thought of Victoria's food tolerable was the knowledge of Helena's special, secret ingredient.

  "Is my father awake?" Victoria asked.

  "I believe so. When we returned home this morning, he could tell it was going to be a dark day. He knew you would be going out."

  Her father knew her so well. And there were moments she believed she knew him. But there were other times when he seemed a complete stranger.

  The family was unconventional, but they made it work. She knew when to pry and when to look the other way. She knew her father, Tessa, and the other women went into the woods at night, but not what they did there. She knew they never ate with her, but didn't ask why. It was puzzling why none of them, including Victoria, could be in direct sunlight. Victoria could at least tolerate indirect sunlight, like on a cloudy day, but the others could only endure artificial light and moonlight. She often walked the grounds of the estate with her father late at night with only the moon and stars to guide their path. She once asked her father about this strange phenomenon and he said it must be some sort of inherited illness. When she prodded about how all their servants also had the same affliction, he began to get angry so she had dropped the issue. But the curiosity still nagged at her.

  When she was a child, she could play in the sun. Her mother would take her to town and they would go shopping together or visit her grandparents, her aunt and uncle, and her cousins. They went to church every Sunday, rain or shine. She would play with other children her age; she always looked forward to playing with Ethan. He was her best friend and was there the day of the accident. They had been playing in the churchyard one afternoon during a picnic when her hands started to burn. She didn't know what was happening. Then her face and neck began to sear with pain. She screamed for help. Ethan ran for Victoria's mother. The pain was so overwhelming she blacked out.

  When she awoke several days later, her world had changed. There were no physical signs of the incident on her body, but she was told she couldn't go out in the sun anymore or she could die. Her father had sat on the edge of her bed and stroked her hand as he told her that her mother was no longer with them. Her mother had died suddenly, and all of her mother's family had left the village. He told her that her illness scared the family away and the stress and fear her mother endure
d was just too much for her to handle. The whole incident had been so horrible for the little girl that she tried to forget it. It was so long ago, she was maybe six at the time, she could no longer remember the details, but she didn't want to remember anyway. Victoria wallowed in guilt for years over the incident. It was her fault that her mother had died.

  As time went by, the loneliness, guilt, and sadness became too much for her, and she fled the castle in the middle of the day, begging God to end her existence. But He did not. It was a gloomy winter day, yet she did not burn as she had on that fateful spring day so long before. After that, she began experimenting with her light tolerance. She went outside on days it rained and there was no sunlight at all. She started going out when there was a heavy overcast just before a storm. She would stand in the window for a few moments in the morning as the sun rose to see how long it would take before the pain would become too much to bear. If her father had discovered what she was doing, he would have been furious. He was so protective of her. When she learned she could go outside when the sun was still waning or when it was hidden by clouds, she was ecstatic. She traveled farther and farther away from the castle by herself until one day she was at the outskirts of town. Ethan had welcomed her back with open arms, but the rest of the townsfolk regarded her with a bit of suspicion. They were cold and distant from her. Victoria knew that her illness had been enough to drive her own family away, so she didn't blame the townspeople for acting nervous around her. There were often hushed whispers when she walked past. But as long as they allowed her to stay and didn't flee in terror, it was enough for her. She only wanted to make friends and be part of the community again. She remained as friendly as possible and enjoyed every moment she could spend with Ethan; the moments were so few.

  It wasn't until Tessa shut the door behind her that Victoria realized she had been completely lost in thought. Victoria put some light powder on her face and added some rouge to her cheeks. Her pale skin but dark eyes and hair sometimes made her look a bit ill. A dab of color on her cheeks and lips would bring a flush of life to her complexion. Victoria put on a dark blue, velvet cape and secured it with a silver pin. The amulet did not match the blue of her gown, but she would never take it off. Her mother promised that the medallion would keep her safe. Safe from what, she did not know, but she did not doubt the words of her mother. She tucked the necklace safely in her cleavage, grabbed her rosary beads, and put on some diamond and sapphire earrings before heading downstairs. She went to the main dining hall and scanned the darkness for her father. She was more apt at navigating darkness than most people, partly because of her years of living in darkness after the accident.

  "Hello, Father," she said toward the long, formal dinner table. Her father was sitting at the head of the table, drinking from a large wine goblet. "I am going to church this morning."

  "I know. Though I wish you wouldn't," he replied with a sigh.

  He stood and walked toward her. He was an impressive man, tall with broad shoulders and larger than any of the men she knew in town. Victoria had seen him get violent with the serving girls when they angered him, yet she was never afraid of him. He was always kind and gentle to her.

  She did not reply to his statement; she only smiled that smile that said "we have been through this before; I am going to win this argument." He took her chin in his hand and kissed her forehead.

  "You will be careful?" he asked.

  "Of course," she replied, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek goodbye. "I won't be out too late!" She grabbed some sugar cubes from a bowl on the table and put them in her pocket. He watched her skip away through the darkness. She was so lovely and spirited and made him so proud. She was his hope for the future.

  "Why do you let her do whatever she wants, my lord?" asked a sly and seductive voice.

  "You know why, Jessenda," he replied. Jessenda, another of Vincent's servants, slinked into the room and placed a cold hand on his shoulder.

  "The more time she spends out there," Jessenda said, "the less likely she will be to choose the path you want her to."

  "Nonsense," he replied, brushing the slender, claw-like fingers away. "That day is far off, and she will do as I ask. You would understand her loyalty if you were able to produce a child yourself." After nearly nine hundred years together, his words did not cut Jessenda's tough hide. She only laughed at his attempt to hurt her.

  "How can you be so…human?" she mockingly asked. She laughed again. "You have so much emotion for the girl," she said with disgust. "Sometimes I wonder who is the master and who is the child."

  "Be silent!" he commanded. "You are exceeding your boundaries." He poured himself another glass. "Would you care for some?" he asked, offering her the goblet.

  She took his glass and drank. A bit of red liquid escaped the side of her mouth.

  Vincent leaned down and licked the fluid from her nearly translucent skin. She dropped the cup as she pulled him closer to her. She ran her boney fingers through his hair, clawing his scalp as she wrapped one of her legs around him. He grabbed her long, black hair and forced her head back, exposing her neck. He roughly kissed and bit her neck and chest, using his other hand to quickly remove her clothes. He threw her onto the table and thrust into her. She screeched in lascivious delight as he tightened his grip on her thighs, driving into her over and over again. He climaxed without her, releasing his potent seed into her barren womb. She placed her frozen head on his chest.

  No matter how many times he took her, or Tessa, or Helena, or Lucia, he was never fully satisfied. They could never equal the purity of the love he had received from Hannah. Hannah had been so frightened the first time he took her to his bed. While the idea of lying with her had been simply a matter-of-fact duty in his mind, physically holding her small and trembling body in his arms had resurrected tenderness in him he thought had died long ago. Just looking at Hannah would excite him. She was so warm. He loved the way he could feel her blood pulse through her temple when she laid her head on his chest. The cold, dead way Jessenda felt almost disgusted him.

  His silence angered Jessenda. She knew whom he was thinking about.

  "Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?" she gently asked as she kissed his chest, attempting to gain his attention once more.

  Vincent did not want to upset her. She had been loyal to him for many years; all of his girls had. It was not her fault she could not produce an heir for him. Selecting three barren women to be his concubines could not have been a coincidence. Apparently, it was impossible for females like Jessenda to breed. But they were only there for his pleasure anyway. They were not his wives; they were his property. Nearly a millennium of service did not make her his mate. He gently pushed her away.

  "No, Jessenda. I am feeling tired. Make sure you take care of this mess before my daughter returns," he said as he gathered his things and went to his private chambers.

  Rejected, Jessenda picked up her clothes and the wine goblet and cleaned the spilled liquid from the floor before retiring to her own quarters for the day.

  2

  Victoria walked to the stables with a spring in her step. The world around her was so beautiful. There had been another snowfall the night before, giving the trees a white outline against the dark, grey sky. The white ground slightly shimmered with the hint of filtered light peeking through the clouds. She opened the door to the stone barn and greeted her handsome, dappled horse, Gregory. He whinnied with happiness when he saw her. She gave him some of the sugar cubes she had taken and rubbed his velvety nose. She saddled and bridled him. With gloved hands, she took the reins and headed for town, leaving a clear trail of hoof prints in the snow.

  There were no birds near the castle to sing songs of morning. There were never any squirrels or foxes scampering about. Only when she got within sight of the town did the world seem to come to life. She often heard the cries of a wolf pack that roamed the woods, but they did not alarm her; she had never seen them. As it was daytime, she did not hea
r the wolves now, but she did feel as though she was being watched. Whenever she went through the woods, she never felt alone. She always thought that, somehow, her father was watching over her, or maybe her mother was looking down on her from heaven.

  She arrived in town to the sound of church bells calling people to Mass. Men in hats and mothers with their children in tow were all heading in the same direction. Some boys were throwing snowballs at each other as they ran about, burning off their energy before being confined to a pew for the next two hours. Young ladies were showing each other the new gloves and stoles they had gotten for Christmas. Happy voices and smiling faces reminded Victoria why she ventured out against her father's wishes. This was where she belonged.

  Victoria tied up her horse at the blacksmith's shop where there were a few empty stalls for people who lived outside the town proper to rent. She asked the smithy apprentice to feed the horse a good grain mix and to make sure he was watered. She would pay the blacksmith when she retrieved Gregory later. She walked on the side of the muddy trail leading to the church to avoid getting the hem of her gown dirty.

  She was the last to arrive at the church and pulled back the hood of her cape as she entered the double doors. The smell of incense and burning wax filled the room. Some people toward the back of the room were trying to whisper under the sound of the priest's blessings. She took off her gloves and placed them in a pocket of her cape. She hung her cape on a rack as she walked toward the bowl of holy water placed behind the last row of pews by the center aisle. She dipped her fingers into the bowl and crossed herself before taking a seat in the middle of the church. Ethan, her dear friend, sat in the front row with the other altar boys with his back to the congregation. Victoria took her black and white pearl rosary with a solid gold cross out of her pocket and folded it between her delicate hands as she listened to the sermon.