The Vampire's Bond

by Martha Woods

  * * *

  “There’s nothing you’ve done that would shock me,” Kristian replied. “Or make me not want to be with you.”

  Tessa licked her lips.

  “There was a woman. She had this long, silver hair, and I think on the day I met her, she had it in a ponytail down her back. She came up to the apartment for a reading. I noticed there was a presence about her, something different. She sat down across from me, and I remember a chill passed through me. For the first time, I heard nothing. I’ve never come across anyone who could block me from reading them.

  “She smiled at me, and her eyes turned black. And then I heard a stream of thoughts. She was asking me about my life. And she told me that I didn’t know who I really was because I didn’t want to, but there was a way for me to know who I was. She called me a traitor. I got up and told that bitch she had to leave. She laughed at me, and she said we would meet again.”

  “Did you?” Kristian asked.

  “Not exactly. I still have nightmares about her every now and again. And she’s usually carrying a red book with my name on it. Once she gives sit to me, I can’t be rid of it. I shouldn’t be terrified of a book, but I am. Freaky, right?”

  “I’ve heard stranger things,” he replied. “Though not anything this strange from a human.”

  Tessa smiled. “You know how to make a girl feel better,” she teased. “Anyway, I packed up and I left town that night. I got on the road and never looked back. I made a practice of never staying in any one town for more than a few weeks. I frequented street fairs and any other local gatherings. I’d show up once or twice and be on my way again. Every once in a while, if I stayed in one place long enough, I would hear locals telling stories about vampires and shapeshifters, and other supernatural things. It scared me. So I just kept moving.”

  * * *

  “Do you think the woman with the silver hair has been behind you all of this time?”

  “I don’t know,” Tessa said. “Do you think she’s a Calder?”

  “Possibly. There are many things that have black eyes, not only witches,” Kristian said. “All sorts of demons and other creatures do. She could be a shapeshifter. Either way, she might be in league with the Calder. Or maybe she enlisted them to kill you. I’m curious that she didn’t harm you when she was alone in your apartment. Relieved she didn’t,” Kristian said, reaching out to touch her if only to reassure himself she was still there. “You may not have had a belief in the occult at that time but you did exactly the right thing—run and not look back.”

  “Would the Calder do that? Take a job from someone else?”

  “The Calder don’t do anything that doesn’t directly serve their purposes. They were on the move maybe a week or so before you and I met. Veronica and I had already been in contact with Ally about them. They’d happily take on a contract from someone else if they believed it would help them kill a few vampires in the process.”

  “Shit,” Tessa sighed.

  “It’s something we’ll have to find out.”

  Tessa shrugged. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

  * * *

  The next few days were spent handling the massive repairs needed for the house. Kristian cleaned the blood spatter from the walls himself before allowing anyone to come out to complete the other work. They didn’t need to raise more alarm than needed. Every window on the bottom floor was gone. The vampires had done a good job of putting out several fires before they spread, but there were still spots of charred flooring or walls. One bedroom was missing its door, which had been reduced to ashes. Tessa noticed some strange stares and whispers between the workmen. She laughed. Did they think the house was occupied by a bunch of rowdy partiers? That was the most tame reasoning she could think up to explain the widespread damage.

  Though all of the other guards left the morning after the four witches were killed, Morgan remained. He claimed he was sticking around for a bit to make sure there was no other threat. Morgan and Kristian were both in daily contact with Ally by phone. She informed them that the track had gone cold for her and the other trackers under her employ. It was like nothing she’d seen before. Usually, there were some rumblings in the underworld about the movement of the Calder, but so far, there was nothing. Charley had been working with her to turn over other demons, but so far, no luck.

  One week after the attack, everything in the house had been repaired. New security systems were installed, and the house was protected with new warding spells. Tessa and Kristian sat together with Veronica and Morgan. The fire was roaring. The vampires drank their evening blood, while Tessa had a glass of red wine. She smiled to herself. It reminded her of being at the dinner table as a kid, drinking apple cider on New Year’s while the adults had champagne.

  A memory, she thought. A childhood memory I didn’t have before.

  “We can expect the Calder will want comeuppance for their four sisters who were killed. It might not be today or tomorrow. They are known for striking when one least expects it,” Morgan said. “This was an embarrassing defeat for them. I can’t remember the last time anyone killed four Calder during an attack. I’m sure they are off licking their wounds and plotting their revenge.”

  “Great,” Tessa said. “We’ve been successful in pissing them off.”

  “In a way it’s a good thing,” Kristian said. “It will keep them away for a while. If we had been less successful in fending off an attack, they would have been back already to finish the job.”

  “My guess is if they were working with a seer before, they’re still under the Calder’s employ. Maybe they’ve received some advice.”

  “Where does one find a seer?” Tessa asked. “I could use one.”

  All eyes turned to her.

  “Isn’t that ironic, given your profession?” Veronica said.

  “My former profession. I don’t tell fortunes anymore,” she said haughtily. “I mean, really, if they’re trying to get the jump on us, I don’t see why we shouldn’t use their same tactics.”

  “They’re not the easiest people to procure,” Kristian said. “But given enough time it could be done.”

  “Ally won’t like that,” Morgan said.

  “Baby, she doesn’t have to know everything,” Veronica said.

  Morgan grinned despite himself. “Yeah. That’s true.”

  Tessa and Kristian took that as their cue to give the newly reconciled couple some time alone. They went out to the back deck and watched the waves lap over the beach, the glow of moonlight on the ocean. They kissed. His mouth was salty sweet against hers.

  Kristian’s arms went around her. “I don’t know exactly what comes next,” he whispered against her ear.

  “It’s okay,” Tessa said, staring into his eyes. “We’ll handle it together.”

  Bonus Book 3

  Mysteries of a Vampire

  Martha Woods

  © 2016 Martha Woods

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  For permissions contact: bookpublisher@protonmail.com

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  Sara Bishop was standing over a pot of boiling broth, stirring it while the aroma wafted through the house. That morning, before she went to school, she filled the pot with chicken bones, carrots, onions and celery, along with a healthy helping of garlic and peppercorns. Then Sara covered it and set it on low. When she got home from school, she would smell it all the way up the street.

  She used a mesh strainer to separ
ate the liquid from the rest of the ingredients and poured it back into the pot. She planned on making chicken and dumplings. It was comfort food at its best because it reminded her of when she was a kid, and her mother used to make them during the winter.

  Her mother just got a job at the hospital, working as an RN where they forced her to work long hours, often early in the morning too late at night and sometimes she worked two shifts to cover for some of the other workers. When that happened, Sara never got to see her at all. She usually found herself sitting in the silent house, waiting for her mother to get off work.

  The silence got so bad that nothing seemed to be able to penetrate it. She tried keeping the TV on, staring at the box mindlessly but her eyes kept drifting towards the dining room clock. Music didn’t help much either. Nothing seemed to fill the void, so she did little things that she knew would make her mother’s life easier.

  She swept and vacuumed, scrubbed the kitchen and cleaned out the refrigerator, anything to help her pass the time. Cooking was the one thing that made the wait easier. Sara's Mother loved it. There would be home cooked meals sitting on the table every single night. Sara would make the table a place for them to gather, setting it with flowers, candles, and little decorations to make it inviting.

  She was an artist, not in the general sense. She was terrible at painting and drawing, but cooking gave her a way to channel her energies into something(omit). She imbued everything with herbs and spices that enhanced the ambiance of the evening.

  Some days were coriander and thyme. Other were oregano and basil. It all depended on upon the atmosphere that night. Some dishes were comfortable like soup; others were fiery like curry. She kept all of her recipes in a faux parchment book she bought online, sitting on a shelf above the stone.

  Sara reached up to grab it, trying to avoid knocking over the spice containers. When her fingers finally rubbed against the rough surface of the cover, she stood up on her tiptoes and grabbed onto it. She was too short to pull it out in one swipe so she had to stand as tall as she could and edge it across the bottom of the cupboard.

  It was leaning over the brink of the shelf when it came crashing down and fell right at the edge of the hot burner. Sara snatched the book up before it could catch fire and rushed it to the kitchen table.

  As soon as she sat down, her phone started ringing. She pulled it out of her pocket and answered. “Hey, mom.”

  “Hey, sweetie.” She sounded rushed. “How’s it going?”

  “I'm making dumplings,” she announced proudly.

  “I hope you make a bunch.”

  “I will.”

  “Hey, listen. I’m going to head home pretty soon.”

  “It’s only 6.” She never got out early.

  “I know. I got somebody else to cover the rest of my shift.”

  “Really?” She nearly jumped with excitement.

  “Yup.”

  “I’ll get everything ready. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Alright. Love you.”

  “You too.”

  Dinner had to be perfect so she took her time, pouring her energy into getting it done. Sara sautéed chicken and mixed up the dumpling mix, carefully plopping the little balls of dough into the broth and timing them just right so they didn’t get too hard. Everything was almost finished when she heard the door open, and her mother walked in.

  “Hey.” She was sweaty with her bright red hair tied up in a messy bun. “Oh, my God, Sara. That looks amazing.” She walked up and gave her daughter a hug. Sara had placed the biscuits in a basket and on the table, along with a vase of carefully arranged orchids and surrounded by a row of candles.

  “Thank you.”

  Bridgett sat down to catch her breath. “So how was school?”

  Sara sat across from her. “Tiring. I had a calculus exam today.”

  “You aced it, though. I know you did.”

  “I did, but it wasn’t easy.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  “I hope so. You want some soup,” Sara started to sit up.

  “Let me just go and get dressed first. I need a shower.”

  Suddenly Sara heard her mum scream. She hopped over the glass she had dropped and rushed to get up to her mother's room as fast as she could.

  When she reached the bedroom door, it was locked so Sara backed up and threw her shoulder into it. “Mom!” The door flew open so hard she hit the ground.

  Sara didn’t see it until she looked up and its white-hot eyes met hers. It wasn’t human. It was moving underneath the pale skin of a man. The second Sara saw it, it was gone, through the open window.

  Chapter 2

  “Mom!” Sara pulled out her phone and ran into the bathroom. Her mother’s pale body had blocked off the drain, sending a mixture of blood and water trickling over the edge of the tub. Sara didn’t want to move or even think. To do so would be to acknowledge that she was alive, the world was real and that her mother was actually dead. Sara couldn’t open her eyes because every time she did Sara saw her mother eyes. They were so green, they popped, sneaking out from behind the shower curtain.

  Sara stood up, her back turned to the bathtub, drenched in bloody water, trying to decide what to do. They were going to have to be reunited. “I’m coming.” There was blood pouring from her mangled neck. Sara kissed her on the forehead and walked out into her room to where her closet was.

  She chose her favorite black cocktail dress. She was supposed to wear it for her graduation party. She looked in the mirror. Her face might have been stained with tears and covered in blood, but it didn't match her short black hair. It still curved in around the chin, enhancing her porcelain doll features.

  She topped her outfit off with a pair of black stilettos. Then she walked back into her bathroom and pulled out a bottle of OxyContin and poured a handful into her hand.

  Once she made the decision to do it, Sara felt relieved. There was no reason to grieve any longer, no need to cry. She was going to be with her mother. Even if there were no afterlife, then at least she would be free. If you don’t exist, you can’t feel pain, or grieve or cry. She wouldn’t feel empty. She wouldn’t feel anything. She would be gone, and she wouldn’t have to live without her mother. This was her only option.

  She walked out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Her tears were dry. She almost felt like smiling. It would be easier this way. She wouldn’t have to sit and wait for her mother to come home. There would be no separation, no earthly obligations. The dead don’t need nurses. They don’t have hospitals either. Sara would be joined with her mother in death.

  She looked down at the bottle of OxyContin. She’d heard that opiate overdose was a sweet death, painless and easy.

  Sara walked into her mother’s bathroom. Where she laid down next to her and ran her finger along her mother’s jawline. This was the woman that had held her when she was a child, smiling down, dancing her fingers over Sara's cheeks to make her laugh. Bridgett fed her, clothed her and brought her life. Now she had her throat ripped out, and her body was so pale it was blue.

  They were meant to be together. Every moment they were apart was torture. This was the right thing to do. Sara popped the pills in her mouth and swallowed them. Then she walked back to the bed and laid her head on the pillow giving off the scent of her mother’s perfume.

  Chapter 3

  Sara fell through the clouds, slipping down the ladder of consciousness. The sound of the shower passed away, along with the water trickling over the tub. She was falling faster, barely aware of her existence, so much so that she didn’t feel the needle piercing into her arm. She thrashed around and tried to sit up nearly slamming into the head of a cop looking down at her.

  “Sara, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened here.” Somebody with rubber gloves lifted her eyelids and shone a light in her eyes.

  Calm? With her mother lying dead a few feet away and every sound threatening to drill into her ears. She was in some of the worst pain of her life.
“What did you do to me?” She tried to get up but a medic resembling a quarterback stepped into her line of sight and held her down.

  “What do you mean what did I do?” The cop stood back, laughing. “What did you do?”

  “What did you inject me with?” The medic was still holding her down.

  “Narcan,” he responded. “You took a bottle of OxyContin.

  “Why were you trying to kill yourself?” A female officer came in, her tight blond bun and straight lips left a sour taste in Sara’s mouth.

  “I can’t I-I’m fucking dying here--torn apart.”

  The male cop turned to the female who nodded her head. Then he reached down and pulled her off the ground so the medic could lift her up onto a gurney. Sara felt like she was being tossed around in a bottle full of glass.

  A cop came up behind her and grabbed her arms, chaining them to the top of the gurney.

  “The fuck!”

  The female cop sat down on the bed, a cocky grin creeping up over her thin lips. “What happened here, Sara?”

  “Fuck you!” She spat.

  “You want to be like that?

  “My life has turned into a living hell,” muttered Sara.

  “How so?” She was going to push for answers, but Sara wasn’t going to give her any. Instead, Sara stayed as quiet as she possibly could and stared up at the ceiling, trying to bear the pain. “You know what I think happened here, Sara? I believe that you ripped your mother’s throat out and tried to kill yourself.”

  Sara bit down on her lower lip as hard as she could to keep her mouth quiet and distract herself from the pain.

  “Why’d you kill her Sara?”

  The taste of salt crept its way out of Sara’s lower lip.