by Kyla Riley
Take on Me
Kyla Riley
Contents
Preface
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
In the meantime…
Hungry like the Wolf
Ordinary World
Afterword
About the Author
Vanessa Stafford had a life any woman would wish for… wealthy, pampered, with a beautiful home and marrying her father’s protégé. Her direction in life had always been planned for her by either her parents or her fiancé- but their ideas never allowed her to be herself. A stolen moment of blissful happiness was like pulling a veil of disillusionment from her eyes. She knew deep down inside that it was time for her to break free of their grasp… but was she running straight into the arms of another man who would treat her the same?
Fiacha Cael spotted the stunning woman surrounded by others at the bar. Centuries had passed and his friends had slipped away over the years. He was now mourning the latest passing of a companion- and the pretty bachelorette at the bar was supposed to be celebrating. They were both surrounded by people but alone… so different, yet so alike. He felt a staggering depression swamping at his soul and saw the same expression in her eyes- driving need to comfort her. He had his own issues to sort through first… and the years had not been kind to his ironic phobia.
Could Fiacha understand the desire for independence that Vanessa had? Could she help a struggling vampire that fainted at the sight of blood? Both had their demons they fought against- yearning for more from this world… but would she be willing to take him on?
Introduction
1046 AD
Once there was a good and just king that ruled Scotland and the various tribes. Eochaid, was a laird (a tribe leader or king) that was treasured and loved by his people. Stories were woven that Eochaid was the most handsome, most fair in the land. His properties were coveted far and wide for an alliance of any kind. What the tales didn’t reveal is that the king had married his soulmate long ago and had a large family who loved him. When Fiona, his beloved bride, had passed away in childbirth, there was an outbreak of war to reunite the tribes once again with the eligible, rich king who was now a widower.
The oldest son and heir to the throne was named Niall. The stories would go on to call him Niall of the Nine – claiming he had nine hostages. The nine weren’t hostages, they were his siblings: Conn, Fiacha, Brion, Loegaire, Maine, Fergus, Aisling and Nath. All had formed a pact to keep their family together from any that would seek to do them harm.
Family was the core of their very beliefs.
But stories and forgotten history have a way of being warped and modified over the years so people could understand and wrap their minds around what actually happened. The horrors and curses that befell the Cael family were terrible to behold and it started with a simple phrase.
I do.
The truth of the matter, what actually happened, was that Eochaid was a descendant of the Ulster King and dabbled in magic, creating a coveted land that prospered and grew. The temptation of blending two powerful families together with a timid beautiful woman was too good of an opportunity to pass up for King Eochaid. A young widowed queen was brought forth to bring peace, and rumored to be just as gentle as his recently deceased wife.
Cairene was a Saxon and much younger than the king, who was already in his prime and twice her age. When she found that her betrothed already had a family and they looked upon her as a threat, a replacement of their own precious mother… Cairene felt that she’d been betrayed and misled. She was still mourning her own beloved husband who’d been killed, and the thought of being surrounded by family that hated her was more than she could bear.
She would never have her own family, a dynasty to pass down to her own children, nor her husband. Everything would go to Eochaid’s eldest sons – not her own. Those memories and dreams Cairene had of creating a kingdom her son would rule someday were long gone, along with any hope in her heart. The despondent Queen sold her soul and laid a heavy curse on the Cael lineage.
No one is for sure what happened between the king and his new queen, only that their union was a bitter and angry one. King Eochaid fell sick and died within a week of Cairene’s arrival and their quick marriage. Some claimed it was a broken heart, others said it was poison, and some called it witchcraft.
The king’s beloved children, Niall and his siblings, were struck down one by one as they mourned their father’s passing. Each of them was cursed horribly, forced to feast on those around them for sustenance. This powerful curse would separate the children, tearing their family asunder, and force them to walk the world alone… just as the betrayed Queen Cairene would until she passed.
Death would not claim them as it had their father. The siblings didn’t fade away like the king had, but instead, they had become immortal. They were forced to exist in a world that hated them, feared them, with absolutely no hope in sight.
Not only had Cairene cursed their family lineage- but if the siblings came close to each other, their powers were weakened significantly, leaving them vulnerable to weapons and other spells. They would be separated, forced to be as alone as Cairene felt. Together, they could still perish or be injured, forcing them apart as their own clansman hunted them down with pitchforks and swords in fear.
Fighting against what was happening to them at Cairene’s hand, two of the older boys stood before the others in an effort to protect the younger children. An example was made out of them, Niall and Conn, before the others scattered in the night to search for cover from their new, nightmarish lives.
This is Fiacha’s story.
1
March 2017
“Goodbye, my friend,” Fiacha Cael whispered as he stood beside the open grave staring at the closed casket. It was the same routine over the years and centuries. He hated being alone and longed for his childhood days when he could simply be at peace with his friends, playing. When the change had first hit him, he remembered the pain and fear that he had felt. His friends had become snacks or meals to him. The thought of feeding from them left him horrified.
It was so long ago that he had said goodbye to his family. He had to say it to everyone he had ever met or cared for. Thank God for technology. Now the depression he suffered from wasn’t quite so overwhelming. For years it felt like darkness was beating at his soul. Had all of this happened because they were truly awful people deep down on the inside? Had they brought this hell upon themselves? Maybe he deserved this grief year after year.
Today, Fiacha was burying Paul. When he’d found him on the streets of Dallas in 1927, the boy had been abandoned and starved. He took him in, gave him shelter and provided everything Paul would ever need in exchange for friendship. They played checkers, backgammon, Monopoly, and Atari over the years together.
Every child Fiacha took in reminded him of himself when he had been on the run. Each needed a stable home and the friendship that came with it. The needs were always the same with each person. Helene, Jamie, Rosemary, Bartholomew, George, William, Luis, Miguel, Jean Paul, and Francois all needed shelter, and Fiacha provided it. They were his extended family and he buried them in a private plot behind his home over the years.
Fiacha never fed on any of them. The thought of drinking their blood made him ill. He was a pathetic e
xcuse for a vampire and grew faint at the sight of blood. As he looked at the glossy black casket, he lay a rose on each of their graves in remembrance. Their smiles, their laughter, and their tears over the years had made the bleakness of his situation bearable for a time.
Now what would he do?
He remembered taking Paul for his first pint when he turned twenty-one and the pride in his eyes as he got his first car. Fiacha considered them his friends, but they were more like the children he would never have. He knew the end was coming near for Paul and had pushed it away from the forefront of his mind – yet here he was saying goodbye again.
Fiacha tossed the last two roses he held in his hand from the dozen he had brought to the graveside service. He’d buried eleven friends over the years and it broke his heart. Things were so different now; times were different.
Long ago if he wanted to bring another person into his home, he had only to walk the streets. Hunger, homelessness, and overpopulation for families was rampant. It was nothing for a child to go missing from the streets in 1750 or 1645 – but in 2017 it would be another matter. Even if the child was willing like all his other adoptions had been- there were legal matters to be taken care of.
He could file for an adoption but once his background (or lack of) was investigated or discovered – it would open a can of worms. He kept to himself and lost his identity in the bustling city. No one would look twice at a dark-haired man walking down the streets. Now, if he helped a child out of the gutter, video cameras would capture him and he would be arrested for kidnapping.
Fiacha would need to truly make an acquaintance with someone of age, a true friendship, if he wanted companionship… and he had no idea how to go about it anymore. Tonight, he would take a page from Paul’s ideology from over the years.
“If you are lost, alone, or needing something to make you smile – have a pint and drown your sorrows away, Fi,” Paul would exclaim merrily and pop the tops off their beer bottles. As Paul had aged and began taking medications for his arthritis and gout, they had stopped drinking together. Fiacha never got drunk anyhow; his body wouldn’t process it like Paul’s did. Instead, he savored the easy, lackadaisical atmosphere of the local bar.
Tonight, he would have a stout beer in Paul’s memory and toast the past.
* * *
“Woooooo yeah,” Vanessa shouted merrily, trying to get into the mood as she and several friends rode in the limousine downtown. She was nervous and had a massive set of cold feet right now. Everything in her life had been planned for her since she was a toddler. Controlled, contained, and constructed with a specific goal in mind: stepping into her father’s company someday. He was a senior accountant and CEO at his firm and held the majority stock. Vanessa swore she was dyslexic when it came to math.
Seriously.
Math was hard.
It had always been that way for her growing up. In her head she knew two plus two equaled four – but always wrote down six or just about any other number. She could do it, but translation from her mind to paper was just not present. It blew her father’s mind that she actually loved doing phlebotomy and could understand how to work the needle just right to find even the most stubborn vein. Vanessa couldn’t balance her checkbook and kept track of her spending on an app- but when it came to venipuncture? She was the bee’s knees.
Math was another story.
A bad one.
Russ Stallings was perfect in a perfect world. He was smart, charming and witty and her father absolutely adored him. They had begun dating when she was seventeen and five years later- engaged. Her father had started pressuring her to develop a mindset for her company and her life. The problem was that it wasn’t her company and she wasn’t able to live her life. A wedding was planned, a ring picked out and the dresses ordered all before Vanessa had said ‘yes’.
Happy wife, happy life – right?
So, why then was she so miserable?
Even tonight’s events had been decided for her. Her outfit had been picked out by one of her bridesmaids (whom she met last week for the first time) and the location was even something of a joke. They were going to a local pub and apparently planned on slumming it for the evening. The agenda was ‘get Vanessa drunk’, then go to a strip club. Both things were completely out of character for her. Just like her gaudy dress.
Spandex was for leotards, sports bras, jock straps, bicycle shorts – not for dresses. On top of it all, it was fire engine red – so she looked like a gutter version of Jessica Rabbit. The cartoon was elegant, sparkly and svelte – this looked like she was working a corner. Hiking up her dress, she felt herself blush as she regretted changing out of her lab coat and work slacks.
Perhaps this was how Cinderella felt? Out of her element, a wild night on the town, and looking over her shoulder for a mistake that would haunt her forever. Maybe Vanessa would let down her hair for a few hours before the reality pumpkin smacked her square in the face.
I might actually need a drink, she thought, as the limo pulled to a stop. Filing out of the car, she allowed herself to be pushed by the flock of strangers that would be her bridesmaids in no time at all. Walking into the dimly lit bar, she heard the blaring music and thought it fitting. She could feel the bass almost in her bones and saw people on a small dancefloor. This was not what she expected at all.
In the corner booth, Vanessa shivered at the gaudy decorations. There were streamers, glitter, and penis paraphernalia everywhere. If the floor could open up and let her in, now would be a great time. Laughing, some brunette put a Bachelorette sash over her head and ordered a round drinks to be brought over.
The thought of perhaps enjoying a drink suddenly became a full-blown need as her eyes met a man sitting at the bar. He was beautiful, like something out of a movie or TV show. Dark hair, gorgeous lips, and the pity in his gaze made her feel almost sick.
He pitied her?
Heck, she pitied herself!
Vanessa felt like everything was spiraling out of control and she was just along for the ride. Nothing was what she wanted and if she put her foot down? It would end up biting her right in the ass every single time. Phlebotomy training- she had to pay for herself. Her father would have paid for college had she gotten an accounting degree. Her car was selected for her, her apartment was all prearranged per daddy – even her lease was renegotiated once the engagement was official.
Grabbing a shot glass, Vanessa made eye contact with the handsome stranger as she hefted it up in a mock salute. Throwing back the sickly-sweet alcohol, she gagged at the bitter aftertaste and several women patted her on the back.
Better work on that gag reflex, girl!
Russ isn’t like that, you slut! Geez, you’ll scare her!
You need to be ready for stronger stuff than that for the mixers Russ will want to have at the house! I heard Russ likes to have an evening brandy- ohhh! Let’s do another shot and get ‘Nessa a brandy!
“It’s Va-nessa,” she enunciated, but was lost in the noise. Several more rounds were brought out to the table that was quickly getting sticky with the mixed drinks. One shot was enough and she had passed on the others handed to her. Literally. She passed them to the trashy brunette on her right. Selina? Sabrina? She wasn’t sure, but somehow she was related to Russ.
“I think I need a moment,” Vanessa whispered as another round of drinks came to the table. Everyone was having a grand time, throwing back alcohol and laughing around her. Everyone but Vanessa.
She just wanted to be left alone.
“Can you let me out?” she repeated and then shouted over the music, tapping the shoulder of Sedona? Sonoma? What was her freakin’ name?
“Out! Let me out! Little girls’ room!”
After much grumbling, Vanessa waved for another round of shots and quickly exited the massive round booth. Launching herself out of the seats, she practically ran to the women’s bathroom. As she got up, she saw the man’s sad dark eyes watching her again. Maybe it wasn’t pity, but was he upset a
bout something?
Letting out her breath, she saw that the bathroom was a one stall room with a privacy lock on the door. Clicking it, she swung the tab over that said occupied. Grabbing several paper towels, she wet them down and patted down her skin. She felt gross just being in here. The oiled wood, leather seats of the benches and thick cologne from the men in the room were almost overwhelming.
The bathroom wasn’t much better either. Several burn marks on the toilet seat showed that people had snuck in to have a quick smoke over the years. The tile on the walls and grout was clean, so there was that going for it. No signs of mildew or mold, just aged ceiling tiles and dated fixtures.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Vanessa realized just how out of control things were and how low she’d sunk. She was miserable and felt hopeless. Russ didn’t even care where she was at tonight. They were supposed to have lunch at the country club with his parents tomorrow to finalize details. Details? She hadn’t made any of the plans, so why was it necessary for her to be there? Tears burned her eyes as she stared up at the yellowed, water stained, acoustic tile. Her heart ached for something to go right for once in her life.
“Just let it all fall into place, please,” she prayed aloud and jumped as she heard a knock on the bathroom door. “Just a moment!” she shouted. Vanessa quickly wiped her eyes. Her face was all ruddy from her tears and since the girls with her tonight were virtually strangers- she’d just blame the booze. Opening the door slightly, she gasped as the beautiful man from the bar stood there.
