Alexander: Memoirs (A Vampire In Love Book 1)

by May Freighter

This man, this human does not deserve to be among the living. Anger consumed him, making his eyes glow stormy grey. He tightened his grasp on the Andrey’s neck and squeezed until he heard a snap of his spinal cord.

  Andrey’s struggles ceased. His flailing limbs relaxed and fell to his sides.

  Gasps came from above, and Alexander had no other choice. These mortals were the reason why he could not mourn in peace. He would eliminate every last one of them.

  After discarding Andrey’s corpse aside, he ran up the stairs, knocked over the candle holders and grasped the thick dark hair of the nearby woman. She cried out in pain, and the rest of the nobles, including Yosef and Fedor, turned to the sound of the commotion.

  Alexander bit into her neck, taking in as much blood as he could. The flames from the fallen candles had spread to the curtains and licked the carpet. Shouts and confusion filled the room. He glanced at the mortified expressions on their faces. These were mere mortals; humans who had forced his hand to become the monster he tried to control all this time, but no more. If they wanted to plot and use others, well, he would let them do so in their afterlife.

  The gasping of the woman in his arms stopped. He discarded her and reached for the next, and the next. Blood ran in rivers as the bodies piled up at the centre of the gambling room. No longer could they mock him or control his actions. He was free of the restraints of this hell.

  His throat ached, begging him to find another human to consume.

  “Alexander?” Lev called from the stairwell.

  Alexander snapped out of his haze, pushing the thirst back. He scanned the room full of dead nobles and felt numb. Those who remained alive were choking on the smoke-filled air. Yosef and Fedor lay on the table with their heads twisted to an unnatural angle. He did this. He had become a monster and felt nothing. No remorse towards these men and women, not a shred of pity.

  “Sir, are you…in there?” Lev shouted between coughs.

  Alexander ran through the flames, grabbed Lev and Katharine, and jumped out the opened second storey window.

  Lev yelped in surprise when they landed. He turned his head to find Katharine’s immobile form tucked under Alexander’s other arm.

  “Sir, t-the w-woman, she’s—”

  “Gone. I know, Lev.”

  Alexander set his servant down and cradled Katharine to his chest. “Get the carriage. It is time we leave for St. Petersburg.”

  Lev’s bulging eyes scanned him with fear and worry at the same time. “Your face is covered in blood.”

  “Then I guess you better hurry before someone notices.”

  Lev bobbed his head a few too many times and ran out of the alley.

  Alexander looked up at the burning building next to him. Beyond that the stars were twinkling on the pitch black sheet they called the sky. Perhaps that was where Katharine’s soul was now. Not among the accursed, greedy humans, but up there with the angels and their golden gates.

  CHAPTER 15

  Solnechnogorsk, Senezhskoye Lake. October 7, 1776.

  After gathering everything needed for the trip from the Red Lily, Alexander asked his servant to stop of at Solnechnogorsk village on the way. Lev drove the carriage with rain beating down hard on the horses and their strained bodies. Dark clouds hung over them, taking away any and every source of light the sky could offer.

  Alexander sat in the carriage, oblivious to the harsh downpour outside, the howls of the wind, or the rapid swinging of the lantern. He clutched Katharine’s cold body to his chest, running his hand over her smooth, porcelain skin.

  “I am so sorry, Katya,” he whispered in a quivering voice.

  The only thing he was thankful for was that his heart no longer beat. The heaviness in his chest, the discomfort of a million daggers being lodged into his unmoving organ would tear his soul to shreds. That was if he still had a soul. He was no longer among the living. He had slaughtered over two dozen men and women mere hours prior to this journey, and it still baffled him how empty he felt inside. Not a whisper of his conscience tormented him, reminding him of his hellish deeds. Surely, the Devil must have a torture chamber ready for him once he leaves the world of the living.

  One hour passed, two. The horses’ heavy breathing filled the air as the sound of rain ceased and the carriage drew to a sudden stop.

  Lev’s shoes landed in mud with a splash, and he opened the door for Alexander. “We are here.”

  Alexander separated himself from Katharine’s body, resting her head carefully on the leather seat. He climbed out of the carriage, his booted feet sinking into the soft dirt. The rain had passed and the moon had returned, illuminating the lone willow tree atop a hill next to the peaceful Senezhskoye Lake.

  Humidity was thick in the air. He made his way to the top of the hill where two graves marred the view. His father and mother rested six feet under. Their bodies were united and there was hope that their souls would be too. On the gravestones were carved their names along with the time they spent living in this cruel world.

  Alexander knelt on the wet grass and touched his father’s gravestone first. The cold from the weathered stone seeped into his skin, yet it did not bother him.

  “Papa, I have missed you greatly. I could not come to visit as often as I’ve wished. Yosef kept me busy, but he is no more. I killed him, Papa. I murdered him with my own hands and for that I fear that when I die, I will not see you in Heaven as my soul will burn in Hell.” Alexander smiled faintly. “I have to admit, I will lack no sleep for my actions. My only regret is that Katharine’s flame has been extinguished.”

  He withdrew his hand and placed his right hand on his mother’s freshly-planted gravestone. “Mama, I am sorry I had abandoned you. I should have tried harder to control the monster inside of me. I should have been there when you fell ill and the Sokolovs threw you out of their home. Wherever you are, I wish you happiness.”

  Alexander lowered his head as a tight feeling in his chest caused his eyes to water. Tears fell onto an already damp ground, vanishing into the shadows. His shoulders began to shake, and he squeezed his eyes shut, keeping the outside world at bay. In the eyes of the God above, was he no longer worthy of receiving the gift of happiness? Would his life contain only sorrow from now on? Was his true destiny to die in that alleyway by the hands of Andrey’s bandits?

  Footsteps drew close, and Alexander raised his head, not turning to face the person imposing on his private moment.

  “Is there anything you need help with?” Lev asked.

  “Bring me a spade, Lev,” Alexander instructed.

  “It should be me who digs the grave—”

  Alexander shook his head. “It is the only thing I can do for her now.”

  Lev retreated to the carriage. A moment later, he offered Alexander a spade.

  Gripping the handle in his hand, Alexander rose to his full height. His trousers were soaked at the knees and stuck to his chilled flesh. He moved four feet away from his mother’s grave and sunk the spade into the fluffy soil. Alexander shovelled the dirt to the side with ease. The simple mechanical action kept his berating thoughts at bay.

  Where has the joy of my existence gone?

  When the grave was deep enough, Lev offered Alexander a hand and helped lift him out of the hole.

  Alexander carried Katharine’s body to the edge of the fresh grave and hopped inside. He lowered her onto the dirt, allowing her dress to soak up the dirty water. Her mahogany curls fell around her peaceful face, and he left soft kisses on her forehead, nose, and bluish lips.

  “Goodbye, my love,” he whispered.

  After climbing back out with Lev’s help, Alexander picked up the spade. He turned it in his hands a half a dozen times, uncertain if he was prepared to bury her. But, her soul would not be at peace until he did.

  “Sir?” Lev asked.

  “You should have some rest in the carriage, Lev. I will do this alone.”

  Lev shifted from one foot to the other and made his way to the carriage.

>   One last time, Alexander spared a glance at Katharine before he scooped up some dirt from the pile and let it slide off the tip with the moon acting as his sole witness.

  St. Petersburg. October 9, 1776.

  Alexander arrived in St. Petersburg with the sun beating down on the streets of the cultural capital. Tall, bleached brick buildings greeted him, similar in design to those he had seen in Moscow. People strolled in the streets with more expressive and colourful outfits for women while the men restricted themselves to the dark colours. Their expressions portrayed them as pompous fools who were too busy to notice the truth that was hidden in plain sight. Darkness was everywhere, and they were blind to see it. Yet, they waded their way through life in blissful ignorance, too busy worrying about the cloths they should purchase next or the shoes they should wear to the next ball.

  The carriage turned off onto the Tuchkov cobbled bridge, and he closed the curtain to prevent the sunlight from getting in.

  In five more minutes, the horses came to a stop. The door of the carriage was opened by Lev, and Alexander threw on a thick cloak over his shoulders. He quickly followed Lev up the steps, arriving at a solid oak door.

  Alexander grasped the brass door knocker, which was shaped like a lion holding a ring in its mouth, and knocked twice. The noise travelled through the manor. On the other side, he could hear feet shuffling towards them.

  A young blonde maid opened the door and scanned him wearily. “How may I help you?”

  “I am Alexander. I hope Maxim has mentioned that I am his son.”

  The maid’s eyes grew wide with realisation, and she ushered him in. “I am very sorry. I did not know!”

  “I understand. Where is he now?”

  She opened her mouth to speak and paused. Then, she closed her mouth, her jaw grinding as if she was deciding whether to answer him.

  “Is he at home at least?”

  She shook her head. “Most days he does not return. Lady Jana only arrived a few days ago and has been visiting him in the city often.”

  “Alexander? Is that you?” Jana called from the grand stairwell. She descended the rest of the way, wearing nothing but a black nightdress that brushed her knees.

  Alexander averted his gaze to his feet. “I have to speak to Max.”

  She hugged him. “And here I thought you came to see me.”

  He shrugged out of her hold and made eye contact with the maid. “I will be staying here awhile. Please arrange for a room to be ready.”

  The maid nodded and scurried off with Lev in tow.

  Jana cupped his cheeks and studied him. “So why is it you came here?”

  “It is not a topic for the foyer, Jana. Let us go somewhere private, and we can discuss the details of my arrival.”

  She frowned yet said nothing as she led him through the manor and into a drawing room. On the small table, she lit an oil lamp, letting the light dance in its glass confinement. She lowered herself onto a cream lounge chair and motioned for him to sit across from her.

  For a long moment, Alexander did not speak. He stared at the unlit fireplace. It was a matter of where he should begin such a conversation after he had become a mass murderer.

  “What worries are you hiding from me?” Jana asked.

  “Katharine is dead,” he replied with what seemed to be at the forefront of his mind.

  “I cannot say I am upset by that occurrence.”

  Alexander glared at her. “She died because of me! If I wasn’t hell-bent on destroying the Sokolov family, she would still be alive.”

  “You cannot expect a happy ending to spring out of nowhere, my dear brother. She was the first of many loves you will have, of that I am certain.”

  “I will not love again. I cannot. What once belonged to Katharine now lies in the grave with her, rotting away with her corpse.”

  Jana crossed her legs, revealing the full length of her pale flesh. When he avoided the seductive sight, she sighed and stood. “What you need now is a body to console you.” She grasped his chin between her fingers, turning his head to look at her. “I could help you overcome your sorrow.”

  Alexander slapped her hand away and shot upright. “Please, I do not have the time for your witticism.”

  “I was not being witty.”

  “Enough! We will speak of this no more. I am tired from my travels and wish to rest,” he barked and stormed out of the room.

  “Alexander, why are you like this?” she shouted after him.

  He ignored her words and listened out for movement upstairs. No matter the temptation or the amount of pain his heart was undergoing, he would not use Jana’s kindness. After all, he had committed enough wrongdoings to last a lifetime.

  Alexander found the maid leaving one of the rooms, and he stopped in front of her. “Is this my room?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He marched inside, locking the door behind him. Collapsing onto the bed and closing his eyes, he was swallowed by the nightmares his subconscious rallied against him.

  That night, he awoke to the loud banging on his door.

  “Open this door, Alexander!” Max shouted from the other side.

  Sluggishly, Alexander rose from the bed and unlocked the door for his sire who seemed none too pleased.

  “Explain to me why you have abandoned your business in Moscow to come here?”

  “Because I’ve slaughtered half the nobility there.”

  Max’s jaw unhinged to match his lack of words. He pushed Alexander into the room and closed the door behind them with a soft click.

  “Are you insane?” he hissed. “Have you not learned to control yourself yet?”

  “That is not the case, Max.” Alexander ran his hand through his hair. It would soon reach his shoulders, and he needed to trim it.

  Max captured his shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Then what was it? Did they find out what you are? Were they a threat?”

  “No,” Alexander mumbled.

  “Then what is the reason?” Max demanded and lowered his hand. “Speak, child.”

  “Katharine died, and I lost control of myself.”

  “All of this destruction because of one woman? I thought I taught you not to let emotions intervene with business.”

  “It is not as if I would own the business if I remained there,” Alexander retorted.

  “Have you abandoned everything I have taught you? Is that why you came here, to shovel your errors my way?” Max’s powerful energy leaked through his mental shields. The air around them became heavy, yet Maxim did not seem affected by the change as much as Alexander was.

  “Please, Max…”

  His sire studied him with an intense stare and his energy retreated. “I may be a fool because of this, but I do not believe you would make such a choice without provocation. And it is my fault that I could not spend more time with you. The Council business is taking up a wealth of my time because the hunters are becoming more creative. I suggest you sort out your feelings here. Matvey will look after the Red Lily from this day forth. Oh, and you mustn’t forget to submit a report to the Council’s Archives about the deceased. They need to keep a record of your killings to help cover your tracks.”

  Alexander bowed his head low. “I will do so, sire.”

  “We are a family, Alexander. Remember that you are not alone in this cruel world.”

  CHAPTER 16

  St. Petersburg. June 10, 1790.

  Fourteen years under Maxim’s wing flew by, and Alexander’s heart hardened. He visited the Russian Vampire Council a couple of times. Even though he was offered a position of a hound, he declined. Hunting rogue vampires or fighting hunters was not something he thought he would enjoy doing.

  Alexander sat in the manor’s library, surrounded by centuries of transcribed knowledge. He put the leather-bound tome aside and eyed the door. It burst open and in came the tornado herself.

  Ewa grinned at him and rushed over, making her pink skirts shuffle with each step, her arms outstretched.
She wound her arms around his neck and fell into his lap. The dry air filled with her giggles of delight.

  “I have missed you, brother! Matvey is such a dull man to be around.”

  “What brings you to St. Petersburg?” Alexander craned his neck to see her face.

  “I want you to take me to a party, or two, or more.”

  “I do not wish to attend any festivities. I’m sorry.”

  Ewa swatted his shoulder playfully. “Don’t be such a bore. Jana told me all about your lover’s death. That woman lived a good life. Do not weep for her until you cry red tears.”

  Alexander sighed. “It is not that I cry for her…”

  “You loved her, I know. Everyone in Russia has figured it out by now. You must know that wallowing in despair is not what we—the undead—must do. Otherwise, what is the meaning of our existence? Is it not to try new things and give ourselves a break from our mortal life?”

  Alexander thought about her words. There was much wisdom coming from someone he thought preferred to play around more than think about such deep issues. Ewa was a puzzle, and he feared whatever was churning in her mind.

  “Very well, I will take you to a gathering of your choosing but only one,” he said defeated.

  St. Petersburg. November 2, 1793.

  Alexander was adjusting his clothes with the mirror’s help.

  Jana glided into his room and closed the door behind her.

  He watched her reflection in the mirror as she assessed him from behind.

  “Are you going out with Ewa tonight again?”

  Alexander decided to button his coat after all. “I am, yes.”

  “And if I said I do not wish for you to go out and see those women?”

  Alexander turned around. His emotions were hidden behind his blank mask. “Is it because you wish to be the one in my bed in their stead?”

  She looked away and a frown created a wrinkle on her forehead. “In your eyes, am I on the same level as those whores?”

  Alexander walked to her and cupped her cheek. She was beautiful, a woman created to be loved with her full red lips and attention grabbing eyes. Yet, he dared not touch her in an intimate way. He could not guarantee her happiness. She was too precious a friend.