Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part One. (The Unnatural Brethren Book 1)

by Silvana G Sánchez

  In a moment of overwhelming excitement, I moaned and pressed his wrist hard against my lips. I wanted every last drop of this drink, even if it would kill me. I wanted it with the eagerness of a child and more... but then it stopped. He freed from my selfish grasp and I wept because it was over.

  I turned to the damned corner of the room and he was still there. My brother sat in his stupid chair and stared at me with his vacant eyes—but this time, he smiled. His crooked smile sent shivers down my spine and I closed my eyes wishing his specter would vanish into midair, but it did not.

  I crept against the headboard and wiped the tears off my face.

  “He's still there,” I said. “I can still see him...”

  Then something burned me from inside out. It stirred like liquid lava coursing through my every limb. I turned on the bed and folded my knees over my chest as I groaned.

  “What's wrong? What have you done to me?!”

  “It's the Dark Blood, Ivan,” he said in a soothing voice. “It's healing your body, do not fight it. It will be over soon.”

  The burning clashed through my flesh and bones in wave after wave of excruciating pain until it slowly receded. After a few minutes, it stopped altogether. And then, it was as if nothing had ever happened. My body felt strong and responsive and full of life—perhaps even more so than before.

  I sat on the bed and ran my eyes across the room.

  “He's gone...” I whispered, fearing if I spoke any louder Viktor would materialize in the middle of the room and grab me tight to take me with him into the sordid depths of the Underworld.

  “You will never see him again... unless you want to,” he said. What on earth did he mean by that?

  He offered me his arm to stand and led me to another room. And as we walked out of this bedroom, my heart gained ease, because the further we moved, the safer I would be from Viktor.

  “I need to know your name,” I said. “Who are you? Why were you at the lake back then, and why did you do nothing to save us?!”

  He closed the windows as we moved downstairs, into a cellar. “I will explain everything tomorrow,” he said as he led me into another bedroom. Its walls held paintings of summer days and sunrises. There were no windows. “But for now, you must rest.”

  He escorted me inside and then walked back to the door, holding a key. “I will come for you when it is time to rise.” He closed the door halfway, but then stopped and peered into the room once more.

  “My name is Dristan.”

  I wish I could say that I met peaceful dreams as I slept that day, but I did not. My brother's rotten face haunted my slumber, and his efforts to take me down to the pits of perdition with him fueled this nightmare.

  The hunger brought me back from the gates of hell.

  Every blood vessel in my body constrained with a slight pulsing ache. My body felt light and lean, almost weightless, as I moved away from the comfortable bed and approached the room's threshold.

  The first thing that caught my eye was that the door stood open. It creaked as I walked past it. I remembered the spiral staircase and climbed up to the palazzo's piano nobile floor.

  As last night's events slowly reconstructed in my feverish mind, the memory of Viktor's specter still granted my heart a certain unease, obliterated only by the recollection of Dristan, the man who had slashed his wrist and offered me his medicinal blood. That dark drink had been delirium, and I wanted more of it.

  My steps led me to the palazzo's solarium, and as I peered upwards into the vaulted crystal ceiling, the sky was tinged with orange, purple, and pink streaks. The colors shifted along with the moving clouds, and even though full darkness lay an hour ahead, I caught the vision of myriad pending stars, in spite of the lingering daylight. Their striking shine and ethereal glow compelled my gaze for a few minutes, as I realized my eyes captured farther images than they did before, and with such clear sharpness, it overwhelmed my senses.

  The pounding ache returned.

  I moved amidst the jungle contained within this room until I came into a library. This place had been the purpose of my wandering about. A presence in this room had summoned me unknowingly; its call had reached me with such subtlety I had scarce knowledge of it myself.

  An old man knelt on the floor. He studied the spines of each book he held, dusted them off, and placed them with care inside the bookshelf before him.

  He was miserable.

  His strong heartbeat echoed in the room.

  Before I knew it, I stood behind him. I had moved so fast and so silently that he had not become aware of my presence until it was too late. Every fiber in my body ached for him, for the taste of his blood under my craving palate. I needed it.

  I seized the man at once and met little opposition. He did not fight as I bit into his neck where the pulsing artery ingurgitated underneath his wrinkled flesh.

  The blood shot into my mouth and filled it with its comforting warmth. And though it failed to repeat the extent of pleasure I had experienced the night before, it satisfied my dark desires and stopped the throbbing pain I had endured since I had risen.

  I drank mouthfuls of his blessed blood before arriving at a point of relief. I am afraid I gorged myself on it. And as the frail body in my grasp gave no more of this precious elixir, I found myself weeping again. On the floor, I leaned against the antique bookshelf, the old man's dead body lying on my lap.

  “Do not shed your tears for him, Ivan. He was old and tired of living,” he said.

  I cleared the tears from my face with the back of my hand.

  “I—I killed him.”

  “Yes. You did.” Dristan sat beside me on the floor. This small gesture gave me confidence and even reassurance. “You will have to do it again if you want to keep living.”

  “It's not that. He—he died too quickly,” I mused, tears looming in my eyes once more.

  Dristan laughed. “Ah! Well, in that case, you must pace yourself, child. This is something you will learn in time.”

  “What is this... curse?” I said. “Am I dead? Am I a demon?” Have I become a specter, like my brother?

  “You are no such thing,” he said with a grave voice. “If anything, you are blessed!”

  I frowned. What sort of blessing could come out of killing?

  “For too long have I searched for someone deserving of this Gift—an heir if you will. And then, I found you—struggling in that frozen lake, holding fast to the shoreline with such an avid thirst for life as I had seldom seen before…”

  “This is a Gift?”

  “Soon, you will see the Dark Blood infuses qualities that surpass any human expectation, Ivan. From this day forward, you will remain untouchable to death, and you will never age again.” He rose from the floor and offered me his hand. I took it, and followed him away from the library, into the solarium.

  “There is no limit to the incoming centuries your preternatural eyes will witness—but take care, young one. Fire and daylight are as lethal to us as your keen fangs were to poor old Giacomo.”

  As we moved past the wild exotic vegetation, I began to realize how much my life had changed. Unfathomable as it was, the thought of living beyond an entire century while conserving my youthful frame eluded me. I wanted to believe that I grasped its meaning, but I truly did not.

  I moved behind him and took the circling staircase that led us to a narrow corridor. He swept aside an old tapestry pending from the wall and revealed a hidden door. Dristan opened the lock with a key he extracted from his vest and showed me inside.

  Something about him lured me beyond reason. I would have placed my life in this man's hands—and I had. I trusted him completely and did not question any of his counseling words, not even once.

  He lighted the candles in the room, and the light spread quickly, touching every surface of the treasures it withheld. Dozens of chests laid open, exhibiting precious jewels, gold, and coins. A center table displayed many papers and orders of property. I peered through it all with t
he curiosity of a child, caring little for what he might have thought of me.

  My father was a wealthy man. I was no stranger to riches and comfort. However, I had seldom seen such a large amount of money contained within a single room, and it took my breath away.

  I ran my hand over the oak table, finely carved and filled with riches.

  “I have other rooms such as this, concealed in the many lairs I possess around the world,” he said. “This one is now yours.”

  “Mine?” I did little to conceal my surprise.

  “Yes. And so is this,” he said as he handed me a piece of paper.

  I read the document's scribbled lines of lavish design, but my eyes jumped at the sight of my name on the bottom of the page.

  Barone Ivan Lockhart

  “Baron?” I said.

  Dristan nodded gravely. “Yes, Ivan. Your name now figures in il Libro d'Oro.”

  “But how can I—?”

  “This is my inheritance to you. It will make it easier for you to step into the world as the vampire you are now.”

  Vampire?

  Dristan removed a gold ring from his finger and offered it to me; its onyx surface bore the herald of a two–headed crowned falcon with spread wings and clashing swords.

  “I cannot accept this...” I mused.

  “I will hear no more of it.” Dristan left the ring on the table and raised his hand, commanding me to abandon the subject at once. “I have something else for you, Ivan; something worth much more than this entire treasure.”

  “What is it?”

  He took a small wooden chest between his hands and opened it to reveal a felted purse which he then placed in my hands.

  Caring little for propriety, I poured its contents at once. A small silver flask came out of it. I analyzed it with prying eyes, as I tried to discover what it was that could hold so much value, and read the inscription.

  Per Dristan

  “For Dristan,” I whispered.

  “I have kept it for centuries. And now, it is your burden to carry,” he said, fatigued.

  “I do not understand. What is this?”

  “The Source of us all, child!” Dristan chanted. “This small flask contains the blood of our forefathers, the first line of blood drinkers the world ever beheld. For any vampire, to drink from this elixir would mean unfathomable power and abilities beyond your understanding—”

  “Why have you not drunk from it, then?”

  “The thought crossed my mind when it came into my hands, as I'm sure it does for you now. But I will tell you what my maker told me then. After centuries of living in the Dark, I have seen enough that would steer me away from such a temptation. Take heed of my advice, Ivan. Keep it safe, but do not drink from it. Its power reaches terrible lengths. A single drop could also destroy you.”

  “Worry not. I will do as you say, Dristan.” I slipped the flask into my breeches pocket.

  “I know you will,” Dristan said. He smiled and moved closer to the window. “Tonight, I will leave you. I trust on my return I will discover in you the powerful vampire my heart envisions.”

  I drew closer to him. The news turned my stomach; it hurt me to the point of tears. Had I done something wrong? Why would he leave me so soon? “Have I disappointed you?” I finally asked.

  He smiled and pressed my shoulder. “I am certain that day will never come.”

  “Then why must you leave me?” I demanded to know. I held his arm with all the strength I was able to summon. He removed my hand with much ease and stroked my cheek.

  “Remember my warning, dearest fledgling. Enjoy your new life in the Dark... I expect great things from you.” He sat on the windowsill and then leaped into the night.

  I rushed to the window. The canal's dark waters stirred below, but not a trace of him did I find.

  Alone, an orphan in the middle of the unknown Darkness, I cried myself to sleep.

  If you enjoyed this book, make sure to leave a review and continue Ivan Lockhart’s journey in

  Written in Blood, Part Two.

  Also by Silvana G. Sánchez

  The Unknown, A Collection of 31 Creepy Micro Poems

  Once Upon Another World, A Twisted Fairy Tale Box Set.

  About the Author

  Silvana G. Sánchez writes monsters with a heart of gold, villains who are the heroes of their own stories.

  She lives in Mexico City with her husband Eric, twins Iker (†) and David, and two Shih-Tzu puppies she lovingly calls her dragons, Wookie and Padme.

  When not cutting eyes open in her practice as an Ophthalmologist, she's known to write dark fantasy novels in her writing den.

  You can find her lurking on her Facebook page and the Reader’s Den, her reader’s group.

  Make sure to stop by to say hello! She doesn't bite—not always, anyway.

  For more information:

  silvanagsanchez.com

  sgs.author@gmail.com