“Alfonzo…”
He moaned. The poor man still knew his own name. She tilted his head to her and stroked his hair gently. “It’s all over, Alfonzo. I’ve come here to end it.”
“Please,” Alfonzo whimpered. “Please…”
“Al, oh, God…oh, fuck, Al—” Eddie finally came back into the room. He was weeping. He knelt beside Maxine, his hand resting on his friend’s chest. “Al, I’m so sorry.”
“Eddie?” Alfonzo somehow managed to smile. “Is it really you?”
“It is. It is.”
“Thought they…thought they’d kill you.”
“No. I think I’m gonna live through this.”
Alfonzo shut his eyes slowly, looking so tired, yet at rest with that news. “You’re a good man, Eddie. Better than me. I let them win.”
“But you tried,” Maxine said gently, stroking his hair. “You tried, and that is more than most can say.”
“What has…what has become of the monster?” Alfonzo squinted up at her and must have been strong enough to see the crimson in her eyes. “Are you like him now?”
“I’ve taken his place, I fear. A piece of his soul beats in my heart. It was enough to stop it.”
Alfonzo laughed. It was weak. It was broken. But it was there. “You poor woman. I pity you.”
He was bereft of his limbs. He had been eaten alive. But he pitied her. She shook her head and smiled sadly. Perhaps he could see her fate for what it was. An eternity of darkness and death, just as Vlad had suffered.
Alfonzo coughed. “Let it end, Miss Parker. Kill me. Please.”
She nodded.
“I should do it.” Eddie sat back on his heels and pulled his gun out of his holster. He cocked the hammer and held it close to Alfonzo’s head. He hesitated, his hand shaking.
Reaching out, she took his other hand and held it.
“Do it, Eddie. Do it.” Alfonzo kept his eyes shut. “Death is a gift. Goodbye, boy. It was an honor to train you.”
“Goodbye, Al.”
Maxine had held Eddie while he cried. The man wept like a child, and she did not blame him one ounce for it. She cradled him to her shoulder. They were sitting in the foyer of the library, and she could see the sun outside, streaming in. It did not hurt her, but it was indeed irritatingly bright. The streets were quiet. It would take a long time for the living to dare step out once more.
“Miss Parker?” Walter spoke from near her.
“Please call me Maxine.”
“Ah. Yes. Forgive me.” Walter bowed his head to her and glanced at the hunter. “What would you have us do now?”
“We should prepare to leave. We will go north, somewhere we do not cause so much damage.” She eased away from Eddie, who was wiping at his face with his sleeves, looking embarrassed at being caught in a weak moment in front of the vampire. She smiled and stroked his hair. “Eddie?”
“I’m going. I can’t wait to leave here.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
He nodded. “I’ll get through it. You?”
“I honestly do not know.” She stood from the stairs and looked out at the sunshine beyond the door. It was something she did not belong to anymore. “I…I destroyed the man I love.”
Eddie nodded again, weaker than before. “That’s something I haven’t had to do. That’s why I know I’ll be okay. If you can survive, so will I.”
“I believe I no longer have a choice in the matter.”
“Shut up. I liked my version better.” He smiled and walked toward the door, plucking his long rifle from the steps and shouldering it mid-stride. “You cause problems like him, and I will hunt you down, though. I will stop you.”
“I would sincerely hope so. Goodbye, Eddie Jenkin.”
“Goodbye, ma’am.”
And with that, the hunter was gone. Walter let out a sigh. “What a relief.” She laughed. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I was not making any kind of jest.”
“I know. I fear I still find it funny. I will need your help. I do not think I know where to begin.”
“You have started this journey with compassion. That is a far better road to walk than any he ever chose.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Come. There is much for us to do.”
Yes. There was.
And it was time to begin.
Epilogue
Every day she spent by his side.
Every night she spent ruling in his stead.
It had been over a year since Boston had fallen to the Vampire King. It had been over a year since she shattered his soul inside his chest. Her existence had fallen into a pattern, if not a routine.
Walter had expressed confusion that his body did not dissolve into dust like all their ilk who died but remained as it was. Perhaps it was the age and power that had dwelled there that left it whole.
But it gave her a dangerous thing—it gave her hope.
Hope that he might return.
He had died a thousand times. Perhaps this was just one more.
More likely, he was forever gone to her.
But hope was a curse as insidious as the one that had taken her body. It refused to leave her. And she refused to part with him all the same.
She had taken them up to the woods of the far north and established their home there. It took the form of a large and sprawling mansion that was a far cry from the castles that Walter said Vlad preferred to summon for them. It suited her nicely. Zadok seemed quite pleased with the change, complaining that the castle had always been too big and drafty for him.
To her surprise, the two vampires stayed by her side. She came to rely on their guidance and their friendship in equal measure. Even Zadok, who was glad to have “been promoted up from the rank of court jester” under her reign. He was still nigh intolerable at times, but she resisted the urge to tear his arm off. Although she did threaten it from time to time.
They were not the only two who stayed.
Mordecai made the most adorable father she had ever seen. He was always bouncing the young winged girl on his shoulders or playing tag out in the rose gardens. Watching him and Bella together made her heart ache for the happiness she had known so briefly in another’s arms, only to shatter it in her hands.
But she did not regret her choice. She could not let the suffering continue as it had. She had lived her life alone, and if she had to spend the rest of eternity in the same fashion, so be it. Such was her fate.
Now she had a family. Friends. She often spent her nights in the gardens, working to make the flowers and plants grow. Working to return a small manner of life to the world now that her dominion was only that of death.
She also had learned to feed. Mostly on animals, although Walter had seen fit to bring her out to hunt a local tribe one evening. He wished her to learn to fight, to fend for herself against an armed human. She understood the lesson, however she wished to shy away from its cruelty—she needed to learn to survive.
Walter had told her stories of Vlad’s centuries of imprisonment, shackled and tortured at the hands of the humans who wished to contain the beast. The stories he told made her ill. But she did not doubt their truth.
Vlad had been a creature of his context. No darkness came without reason. She did not wish to let her heart grow cold, so she would learn to fight to protect herself from such things. She would learn to harness the strength he had once commanded.
Walter was an eager teacher. He seemed to take great pride in his new role as her confidant. She still thought him funny when he insisted that he was no such thing.
With her immortal curse had come more control over her empathic gifts. She now no longer needed to wear her gloves. It was a small benefit, but one she deeply enjoyed.
Her world of nightmares was not nearly as twisted as Dracula’s had been, and her rose bushes were only rose bushes. There were no demons lying in wait or thorns ready to eat someone who happened too close.
And the moon overhead was always silver.
And e
ach time the sun began to rise over the horizon, she went down deep beneath her home to where no light might reach. To a place where no doors or windows entered. To a place no one could find but her.
“Why do you sleep in a coffin, Vlad?” She had asked him that question twice. And now, she truly understood.
She stood at the side of the large black coffin that sat atop a center dais. The lid was closed, and it was emblazoned with a sigil of a warlord. She let her hand trail over the black painted surface before lifting it.
There he lay. Dressed in his finest, his arms crossed over his chest, and forever in repose. She climbed into the coffin beside him and curled up on her side next to his frame. He was exactly as he always was. Cold to the touch, but soft over the feeling of iron. Nothing in him ever decayed. His body was bereft of life and death.
And every day she whispered to him a command—“Come back to me.”
And every day he defied her.
She would place a kiss on those lips she wished would return the favor, would swipe away the red tears that would escape her eyes, and she would lower the lid. She slept there at his side until dark.
And every day she returned.
Another year went by. And another. And several more.
She had sent a letter to Eddie via a messenger—a little imp that was more than happy to do her bidding. Eddie responded, and she discovered in him an odd pen pal. She told him of their home and promised she was not out to destroy the world. He told her of his new wife and his son. He vowed he was too old to hunt vampires now, but he’d be happy to make an exception for her if she stepped out of line.
And every day she commanded Vlad to return to her.
And every day he defied her.
There was a strange kind of contentment that came over her with enough time. Her home was a refuge for monsters—for those unfortunate souls that could not find sanctuary elsewhere, mortal or immortal as they may be. Scientists and demons alike. Every Thursday night, she took dinner with the Witchdoctor and discussed all matters of myth and science. Every Friday was spent at cards. She did her best to care for those around her. To tend to what they might need. It seemed that was more than enough to inspire their loyalty.
It was not joy. She watched the seasons come and go and watched them blur together.
And every day she commanded Vlad to return to her.
And every day he defied her.
Eddie passed away unexpectedly, but from natural means. She ventured to his funeral and paid her respects. She shed a tear by his grave and placed some of her red roses on the fresh dirt. A large sum of money was given to his widow and his young son. She did not stop to visit them.
The world was changing quickly. Another war was on its way. One that would span the continents, it seemed. It was a tragedy she did not know how to prevent. Walter had told her that mortal wars were for mortal men—immortals had no business interfering. It would only make matters worse. As he had seen nearly a millennium of them, she did not argue.
And every day she commanded Vlad to return to her.
And every day he defied her.
Each day she lay curled at his side, her fingers twisted into the lapel of his suitcoat.
And every day he defied her.
Until the day he did not.
Maxine must have been dreaming.
Fingers were curled into her hair, and she felt an arm around her, holding her close. She shifted, not wanting to wake from the illusion. Not wanting to wake from the dream she had wished to have every day for so many years.
A dream of him.
Sharp nails drifted over her scalp, and she purred. It was an inhuman noise. Something she had not known she could make until right that moment. She heard a dark and quiet laugh. The fingers caressed her cheek, tilting her head up. She did not dare open her eyes. She would not chase away this dream. Cool lips met hers in a tender, simple embrace.
That was enough to wake her.
She opened her eyes. The dream did not shatter. Lips grazed her forehead. The creak of a lid overhead, and firelight drifted into the coffin.
Propping herself up on one elbow, she expected to eviscerate whatever vampire thought to invade this space. It was likely Zadok. The cretin often tried to “cheer her up” in his own particular and perverted fashion. But instead, crimson eyes met hers.
“Vlad?”
“I believe so. To be fair, I have not been certain as of late.”
She sat up, and before she could climb out of the coffin, he had grabbed her by her waist and dragged her atop him. She squeaked in surprise as she sprawled across his chest. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, bruising and intense.
He growled beneath her, and when she finally managed to push away from him, she found him smiling up at her. “Yes. That much I remember. I think I am indeed Vlad Tepes Dracula. Am I not?”
“What…how? I thought…I thought I—”
“I am not quite certain myself. I felt you there, tearing me apart. I think you rent my curse in half, my darling empath. You dealt me a grievous wound…but not a fatal one.” He was watching her through lidded eyes, and he trailed his hand to rest his thumb at the hollow of her chin. “Look at you…your eyes. By the gods in Hell, you are beautiful.”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember you riding me so wonderfully.” He smirked.
If she could still blush, she was certain she would be. “After that, Vlad.”
“I remember the moment I became as I am. I remember pain. I remember you tearing me apart. But it was too much for you. You left some pieces behind. It took me a long time to learn to exist again.” His hand wandered to her throat, and the one at her hip shifted to pull her to him, pressing his hips up against her as she was straddling him.
She gasped and leaned up on her palms. “Please, let this not be a dream. Please. I have missed you so much—my life has been so empty.”
“Oh, my Maxine. How I felt you at my side each day. I heard your call. I heard your command. I did not disobey you, but these things take time. You did not destroy me—you merely killed me as the hunters intended to do. But oh, if I had been ushered from the arms of death with such an angel of mercy at my side each time…” He pulled her close to him again as he pressed upward, teasing a dance she could not fight. “Perhaps happiness could have been mine far sooner.”
“Vlad…” She moaned and shifted her hips to meet his. She wanted him. She needed him. She needed to feel his soul touching hers. All of it. “I love you.”
Her heart began to beat. It lurched in her chest, and the cold of her body began to recede. It was such a bizarre sensation, even after so many years. She assumed she would become inured to it in time. And she had plenty of it now.
He dragged her down with a rough pull of her hair but did not steal the kiss she knew he was after. She went slack in his grasp, surrendering to him. He smiled, and his lips ran along her chin to the crook of her neck. She could feel how he was starving. His body was crying out for blood after it had lain dormant for so long.
She shifted, tilting her head to the side, her hand tangling into the hair at the back of his neck. She welcomed what used to terrify her so greatly. She would happily share herself with him. She let her eyes drift shut as his teeth scraped her skin. His sharp fangs descended in hunger, but not before he whispered to her in adoration.
“I love you, my immortal soul.”
Fin.
Also by Kathryn Ann Kingsley
Harrow Faire:
Coming October, 2020!
Immortal Soul:
Heart of Dracula
Curse of Dracula
The Impossible Julian Strande:
Illusions of Grandeur
Ghosts & Liars
The Cardinal Winds:
Steel Rose
Burning Hope
The Masks of Under:
King of Flames
King of Shadows
Queen of Dreams
King
of Blood
King of None
Queen of All
Halfway Between:
Shadow of Angels
Blood of Angels
Fall of Angels
To stay up to date with all my upcoming releases and extras, join my Facebook Reader Group, or consider joining my monthly newsletter.
www.kathrynkingsley.com
About the Author
Kat has always been a storyteller.
With ten years in script-writing for performances on both the stage and for tourism, she has always been writing in one form or another. When she isn’t penning down fiction, she works as Creative Director for a company that designs and builds large-scale interactive adventure games. There, she is the lead concept designer, handling everything from game and set design, to audio and lighting, to illustration and script writing.
Also on her list of skills are artistic direction, scenic painting and props, special effects, and electronics. A graduate of Boston University with a BFA in Theatre Design, she has a passion for unique, creative, and unconventional experiences.
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