The Vampire’s Daughter
Leigh Anderson
Contents
Also by Leigh Anderson
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part II
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part III
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
About the Author
About the Publisher
Also by Leigh Anderson
Short Romances
The Marquis Returns
The Eunuch’s Wife
From Convent to Consort
The Vampire’s Daughter
Published by Red Empress Publishing
www.redempresspublishing.com
Copyright © Leigh Anderson 2016
www.LeighAndersonRomance.com
Cover Design by Cherith Vaughan
www.EmpressAuthorSolutions.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recoding, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author.
To Matthew Eck, for telling me to “just write.”
Prologue
Bessarabia, Autumn, 1723 a.d.
Danielle was not going to last much longer. Her fever had lingered for several days, and her hands were cold and clammy to the touch. She was even delirious – seeing figures move in the shadows. Her mother, father, and younger sister, Hannah, could do nothing but try to make her comfortable. The priest, Father James, arrived to administer her Last Rites just before sundown.
Hannah could no longer be strong for the sake of others. Danielle was her older sister and best friend. When Hannah was born, Danielle had been fiercely jealous of her, and as they grew older, they physically fought for their mother's attention. But as time passed, what had been simply a respectful recognition of the other person's right to exist grew into a true love and compassion for one another. The thought of losing the most precious person in the world to her was more than Hannah could bear. She fled the house in the dead of night to cry out in her own pain.
"Hannah!" her mother called out. "Not at night! Come back!" She attempted to chase after her, but her father stepped in.
"No, not you too," he said. "We need to be here for Danielle. Hannah knows better." He pulled his wife back in and shut the door.
Hannah did know better. She would never go into the woods after dark, especially on a foggy night; most people would not even leave their homes after sunset, but she could not stay in the house. She did not want to cry in Danielle's presence; as ill and unreasoning as Danielle seemed, she was still conscious and could possibly hear her. Hannah did not want Danielle to have guilt for something she had no control over.
Hannah stumbled and cried out as she scraped her knee and palms. A few neighbors peeked out of their closed window shades to see what was happening, but did not enter the night to help her. She ran behind an old barn at the forest's edge beyond their pitiful gazes where she was completely alone and let the tears break free.
"Oh, God! Why is this happening?" she asked through her cries. "I can't do this. What I would give…oh, it's not fair. Please, God, spare us this…spare her." She collapsed to the ground and buried her head in her hands as she wept against the wall of the grey barn.
"Poor girl," she heard from a low and soothing voice. She turned her tear-stained face toward the voice, but in the dark woods, she saw nothing. It was only her imagination, she assumed, as she returned her forehead to her folded arms on her knees.
"Poor, poor girl," the voice said a little louder. This time she recognized it as a man's voice, and, startled, she stood up.
"Who's there?" she asked, attempting to sound stern, but sounding strained instead. She turned back toward the village, but as she turned her head, she found herself nose to chest with a tall man clothed in black. She shrieked and tried to back up but tripped and landed on her backside.
"Forgive me," he quickly said. "I did not mean to frighten you." He reached out a gloved hand to offer her assistance back to her feet. Her eyes slowly followed the hand up the man's shoulder and over to his face. He wore very regal clothing. A black cape held by a gold clasp in the shape of a sword, a black shirt, and a dark red vest and cravat. His skin tone was very pale, but his eyes were quite dark, like pools of water. His long, dark hair was loosely pulled back with a red ribbon, but a few stray hairs fell on his forehead and around his ears. He smiled at her, amused by her hesitance to take his hand. He lowered it further toward her. She slowly accepted, more out of courtesy than need or want, and he helped her up.
"Thank you, sir. I should not have been so easily startled, but I did not expect to see anyone out here," she said, not making eye contact with him and tucking her hair behind her ear. "I came to be alone."
"You looked like you were in need of comforting." His voice was certainly calming. It was deep, yet clear.
"I am not looking for comfort," she replied. "I need a miracle."
"What kind of miracle?" He seemed genuinely interested, but she found his demeanor suspicious. His tone was too intimate for a stranger.
"Excuse me, but I do not know you. I need to return home." She started to go around him but he gently grasped her hand
"I did not mean to be rude, only you looked so sad. I was hoping there was some way I could help you."
"There is nothing you can do. Only God can spare my sister's life, but He has only sent His servant to prepare her for death." She took a deep breath to stop the tears from coming again and sighed. "I should not speak of things I do not understand. The good Father is doing what he can. It is God's decision what happens to her this night."
"Is it?" He raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of a question is that?" she asked with a scoff. "My sister is dying and all I can do is sit out here and cry!" She angrily jerked her hand from his grasp. She had not realized how long she had allowed her hand to linger in his. "I must return to her." She turned her back to him and walked away.
"Do you want your sister to live?" he asked. She slowly looked back at him.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Someone who can help you," he said, once again offering her his hand. She looked at it as her curiosity gave way to fear, and she realized who he was. Her eyes widened as she kept her hands close to her chest. How could she be so stupid, not realizing who he was immediately?
"No, thank you, kind stranger, I must return to my family. They will be looking for me," she said politely and tried to leave.
"It is not I whom you should fear. 'Tis the Reaper who will be at your home by sunrise," he said plainly.
Tears formed in her eyes again. She knew what he said was true. She should leave, but the handsome and kind man standing before her did not seem to possess any of the qualities of the undead monster she had been raised to fear.
"You know much of the Reaper, don't you, stranger?" she asked.
"I do," he nonchalantly acknowledged. "Yes, he and I make good company."
"I do not fear you," she said, with a slight quiver in her voice. "You should not be here. Your realm is the woods, not the village."
His revelations caused her pulse to quicken. All this time he had been watching her, and she never knew. What else did he know about her? What should she do? If she tried to scream or run, he would prove too quick for her. Did she want to run?
"Please, I need to be with my sister," she said.
"I am not holding you against your will," he said. She took a step back in good faith.
"But if you do leave," he continued, "your sister will most assuredly perish this night."
"If I leave?" she asked.
"I may have something that can spare your sister." She began to feel dizzy. It made no sense. Here she was face-to-face with a creature of death who was offering her sister's life. Everything she believed suddenly made no sense, or at least did not apply.
"While I would do anything to save my sister's life, I do not think it would bring her happiness for me to give my life for hers. I would give my life for her as much as she would give it for me. I know she would rather die in the hands of God than live with my soul in the hands of the devil."
"Is that what you think? That I am the devil?" he asked in a low, breathy voice leaning close to her.
"No, but he is your owner and you only live to do his will."
"Which is why I need you," he said, taking her hand and putting it on her chest, "to live." She gasped and pulled it back.
"Please, please don't ask this of me," she begged.
"Ask what?"
"For me to choose my sister over my God. I am weak. I'll not choose wisely."
"Oh, you poor girl," he said as he put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward him. "Is that what you think I am going to ask? No, I am far less sinister than your father's tales would lead you to believe."
"What do you mean?" she asked, looking into his eyes. "Please, no more riddles, I cannot take it any longer."
He gently touched her cheek. She was mentally and physically exhausted, at the breaking point. She was exactly where he wanted her.
"I am…lonely," he said to her. "I have lived a long time, and I have been looking for someone to be, well, my mate. If you agree to live with me as my wife, I will heal your sister."
It took her a moment to process exactly what he was asking her. The monster who stalked the nighttime forest devouring the blood of the innocent was asking her to marry him. This could not be real.
"I don't understand. You want me to be your wife? You're not going to eat me?" Her question was sincere, but he nearly doubled over in laughter.
"Eat you? Ha, ha! No, my dear. I am proposing marriage!"
"Why are you laughing?" she demanded, stepping back and stomping her foot. "Is that not what you do? You do eat people, do you not?"
"Well, I am a bit more civilized than the wild wolves who roam when the moon is full. However, I do have to kill a few people for sustenance every now and again. But you don't need to fear me. I will not harm you or turn you into a creature like me. That is not what I want." He removed a glove and placed the back of his hand to her cheek. It was very cold, not icy or frozen, but chilled. She gasped at the sensation. He moved his hand around her waist and pulled her close to him, looking into her eyes, which were wide and wild. He could see she wanted to know more. "I long to feel the warmth of a woman next to me." The cold from his hand went right through her clothing to her bare skin. "I have servants who are like me," he continued, "who would do whatever I ask, but to have someone truly living, still warm, in my life, that would make me feel…" he paused to look for the right word, "human."
Maybe he did not want to be the way he was, she wondered. Maybe he was not the monster she thought he was. Could she be the one to save his soul from eternal damnation?
Preposterous! She was not anyone special. If he needed atonement, he should go see the priest. But if she could save her sister and not give up her own soul, it seemed too good to be true. She moved his hand away and rubbed some warmth back into her cheek.
"Explain the terms of our marriage, exactly," she said.
"I do not expect you to take my word based on faith alone. If you agree to be my wife, I will give you a tea that will save your sister's life. Administer it to your sister, and she will be well by morning. At sunset tomorrow, take the northern path leading out of the village. I will find you."
"It seems too easy," she argued. "You will not have to drink my blood or anything? What about God?"
"What about him?" he asked. "You will remain exactly as you are: a flesh and blood human. You will be my wife for the rest of your days. And when you die, your soul will be in God's hands."
She thought about it for a moment longer. It sounded like a fair trade to her. She would save her sister and retain her humanity. The man seemed an amiable enough companion to spend the rest of her life with. But she then thought about something else.
"What about children?"
"What do you mean?" he asked with a quizzical look on his face.
"Will we have children? And if we do, will they be like you?"
"I do not know," he quickly answered. "I have no children. I do not know how they would turn out if we had any."
"I do not think I could take that risk," she said quietly. She wanted to take his offer; time was running out. But she could never forgive herself if she brought forth demons or other cursed souls into the world. "This is no longer my life or Danielle's we are speaking of, but innocent children…"
"It would stand to reason," he interrupted, "that if someone is born, then he must have a soul. Am I right?"
"I suppose…" she mumbled. It did make sense.
"But the chance of us even having children would be nigh impossible," he continued. "A human like you and a creature like me. Well, it is almost absurd, is it not?" He smiled with a boyish charm that made Hannah believe that he must be right.
Hannah followed his line of reasoning to the most rational conclusion. To say no and let Danielle die for the sake of children who may never be born would be selfish. She could never live with herself if that were the outcome.
She sighed as one last question came to her mind.
"What about love?"
He smiled; his eyes seemed to shine in the moonlight. "Do you really think I would wait hundreds of years to choose a mate and then choose someone I did not care for?" She blushed. He stepped forward and took her hand. "I want you, Hannah. I have been watching you for a very long time. I know you are scared, but I will be good to you. I promise. I hope that one day you will love me, but even if that never happens, I think you can still be happy. I can give you far more than the simple life you would have if you married some village boy."
She looked up at him, and he waited for her answer. She tried to think rationally, through all the positives and negatives of the arrangement, but it was too much. She was tired and cold. She was scared for Danielle. She was worried about leaving her family and the life she knew. She was drawn to this tall, seductive man. She had a feeling that whatever choice she made, it would be the wrong one.
"If you love me," she said, "then you would not use my sister's life as leverage to get me to marry you." She was not completely out of her wits. If she wanted any say in her destiny, she would have to take the chance now.
The smile fell from his face.
"You would never be truly happy with me if you thought that the only reason I married you was to save my sister," she explained. "Give me the tea without extracting the prom
ise from me. If I return tomorrow, then we will be happier knowing that I made the choice of my own volition and not out of fear or desperation."
He sensed a bit of anger rising in him, but he kept himself in check. He could just say 'no', take her by force back to his castle. He could make her do what he wanted. He had a feeling, though, that doing so would cause more problems later. She had to come to him of her own choice. Any offspring they had would have to come from a place of purity. And of all the human women he could have, she was perfect. She was so beautiful. Her dark blond hair framed her high cheekbones, deep green eyes, high eyebrows, and tapered chin and nose. She was of average height, but her narrow waist was accentuated by her full chest and long neck. She was strong too, as he had many times observed her carrying large pails of water to her house and chopping piles of wood. She was fearless and witty. He could not risk losing her. He knew she would come to him. When her sister healed, she would come out of gratitude. She was too Christian to lie to him. He decided to give in to her demands, let her think she was in control. He backed away from her looking a little hurt.
"Very well," he finally said. "I want you to be happy and I want to be happy with you. I will give you the tea, and hopefully you can find it in your heart to return to me and help free me from my solitude. Here." He handed her a small bag. "Brew this and have her drink it. Do not let anyone else drink it, not even yourself. Be sure to pour out whatever you don't use."
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