SV02-06. Slave to a Vampire

by Katrina Kahler

  I sunk well below the waters and heard Dax yelling my name. I did not resurface until I was far away then began the swim to shore. It took me several hours, but the blood I’d had onboard strengthened me and my feet touched the sandy beach just as I noticed the first glimpse of the sunrise. My time was running short to find cover and I dove into the dense jungle, needing to find a safe place. Voices met my ears and the sound of wagon wheels. There was a port nearby, but I dared not run there. I skirted the edges of the buildings, looking for anything that would do when I spotted a sign for a cemetery.

  Laughing darkly at how fitting it was, I ran there and broke into a large, family crypt just as the first rays of the sun broke over the island.

  The dead in the crypt were my company for the first few days on that island as I cowered from the sun and people. Once again, I sunk into my despair of what I had become and what I would be forced to do for the rest of my life.

  Finally, the thirst within me grew to be too much and I longed to hear the voices of someone other than the dead haunting the cemetery. That and I knew I could not stay there forever. I waited ‘til the sun set, then made my way towards the port. The hunger within me was still gnawing, but I forced myself to wait, not wanting to attract the wrong sort of attention yet. The port was bustling even at this late evening hour and the tavern I came to was nearly packed full. There was one empty table in the corner and I made my way to it, ordered an ale, then listened to those around me.

  There was talk of the plantations nearby. A couple just one table over from me were telling of their harrowing journey across the ocean, hoping it was all worth it.

  “Why did you come here?” a traveler asked, sitting at their table.

  “We grew tired of the life we had,” the man said. “Tired of all the aristocrats and their like so I used my family fortune to buy us a sugar plantation. Over on the Isle of Montseratt.”

  “That didn’t come cheap,” the man said with a whistle.

  “No, it did not. Neither did what else it will take to run it.”

  Unable to resist, I grabbed my mug of ale and turned towards them, putting on my best smile. “What exactly would that be?”

  The couple smiled at me and motioned for me to join them as well. They were a very nice couple, really and I was intrigued by their new business venture. Ideas were already turning in my mind as he went on.

  “We have one hundred slaves coming to the island along with English and French overseers. In one week, we’ll head to the island to get everything up and running. It’s going to be quite the adventure.”

  “Do you have need of another man in your employ?” I asked.

  “Perhaps. What is it you do, sir?”

  I leaned forward and delved into all my experience that I had gained helping my father run his business. I do not tell him the name, but he seemed impressed by my credentials and my skills for importing and finding resources anywhere on the map. The man held out his hand with a broad smile and told me I was hired.

  “Meet us tomorrow for lunch, out in the courtyard. We shall discuss your employment more then.” He excused himself and him and his wife headed up to their room.

  I sat at the table as the other man stood and left, wondering what to do about tomorrow. I couldn’t very well show up in the courtyard at lunchtime. The sun would kill me and then I’d be nothing but a pile of ash on the stones. I sat there for a long time, well after the room was empty trying to decide what to do. My throat burned from hunger and the ale tasted bitter in my mouth, sitting heavy in my stomach.

  The tavern keep came over and asked me to get out or pay for a room. I stood abruptly and pushed past him, heading outside. In that moment, I made my decision. I sniffed the air deeply, searching for the scent of the man I looked for. It didn’t take much effort for me to get up onto the roof of the tavern from the nearby building and I dropped down onto a balcony. I crept along it, hoping it didn’t creak beneath my weight, and found the window for the couple’s room. They were both sound asleep, resting comfortably in each other’s arms. I hesitated as I stood at the foot of their bed, contemplating what I was about to do and the dangers if I couldn’t pull it off.

  Then the hunger burned sharp in my throat and I forgot the man I used to be…to embrace the monster I’d become.

  Hunger overcame me and I killed them both, draining them dry in minutes of each other. No one ever heard the screams.

  ***

  Glass shattering pulled Bastian from his tale and he turned to see Catherine’s face frozen in fear. The inkbottle had fallen off the desk and shattered, splashing ink all over the floor and the bottom of her dress. Her hand shook with the quill, dotting ink all over the page.

  “Catherine? Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

  “You killed them?” she asked, but didn’t lift her gaze to his. “You murdered them?”

  “Yes I did. I did what I had to. You still don’t understand, do you?” He shook his head as he went to a nearby cabinet built into the shelves, opened it, and pulled out a fresh bottle of ink. “I am not just a man, Catherine.”

  He watched her eyes lift to his face when he set the fresh ink down, not even caring about the shattered one on the floor. The look on her face made him want to throw something. Just moments before she had looked at him with those gentle eyes that said she knew there was still the old Jacques buried deep within.

  “Stop staring at me like that,” she whispered, finally averting her gaze.

  “Like what,” he snapped, flashing his fangs.

  “Like you want to kill me, too.”

  He took a hurried step back and tried to compose himself. Did he want to kill her? Had his anger become that out of control? His hands had curled into tight fists at his sides and he hadn’t even noticed. “I do not wish to harm you in any way, Catherine. Not ever.”

  Slowly she took a deep breath then looked up at him again. He didn’t like how she seemed to see deep within his soul, but forced himself not to blink. “I believe you, but you are still angry with me.”

  “Of course I am. You are judging me for what I did.”

  “How can I not? You just told me you murdered two people in cold blood.”

  “I have told you before, I have to kill to survive. You said it yourself, you’ve heard the stories.”

  “Hearing the stories and actually having someone tell you they did it are two completely different things,” she snapped, jumping to her feet. “You can’t stand there and tell me that you don’t expect me to be horrified? You just spent the last few days trying to prove to me that I should be scared of you.”

  He stalked towards her, but she didn’t even flinch. “And are you now?”

  “No. I. Am. Not.” She leaned with her hands flat on the desktop and didn’t let her eyes waver from his.

  “You are a horrible liar.”

  “And you are the most contradictory, irrational man I have ever met!” She walked around the desk and headed for the door.

  “Where do you think you are going,” he asked. “We are not finished here.”

  “I need some air,” she said then hurried out of the library, letting the door slam behind her.

  Bastian ground his teeth and growled as he paced around the library fuming. She judged him for what he’d done in his past. And here he thought he’d found a woman who would not hold any of it against him. His own judgment of her had been horribly wrong. Did he dare continue with his story? Did he want to deal with whatever else she might start to feel towards him?

  Could he handle it if she really came to fear him?

  ***

  Catherine was shaking by the time she made it out to the small courtyard behind the main house. It wasn’t used by the slaves in their passing so she hoped she would find a moment’s peace to try and wrap her mind around what was happening to her. And with Bastian.

  He’d asked if she was scared of him. Was she?

  She paced across the stones, her breathing harsh as she laid out the f
acts in her mind. Everything he’d told her so far and everything she’d seen…it was only logical that he was what he claimed. A drockola, a man of bad blood. A vampire. Her new master was a vampire. If she accepted that, everything else fell into place. The odd hours he kept, his strange diet of hardly anything, the way everyone acted around him.

  Bastian Lavelle was a vampire.

  But that wasn’t the worst part. Catherine came to a sudden stop as she realized why no matter what he told her next, she would continue to write down his story. She was falling for him. His touch, his voice, his smile. Even the over serious look he got when he was trying to frighten her away. Catherine cared for that damn man.

  “Catherine?”

  Her breath caught and she straightened, slowly turning to find Bastian standing just a few feet behind her. “I’m sorry, I needed a moment,” she said, then quickly lowered her gaze from his.

  Bastian reached out a hand under her chin and gently lifted her face. “No, you no longer do that around me,” he said quietly. “You have earned my respect and I hope we may continue to be friends on this journey into my past.”

  “Friends?” she asked, wondering if he heard the longing for more in her words, just as she did.

  “At least for the time being.” He moved closer until there was hardly any space between them. His one arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his body until she stared up into his eyes. They were narrowed, moving back and forth as if he was unsure of his own movements.

  Catherine understood completely. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, feeling the coolness of his skin beneath his shirt, and held on tight. “What are we doing?” she whispered.

  “I do not know,” he replied then his lips found hers.

  The kiss was gentle and soft, Catherine’s heart leapt in her chest. Her blood ran hot in her body and finally she understood what all those stories she heard meant about the power of a kiss. But she didn’t get to experience it for long before Bastian pulled back, disentangling himself from her and looking confused and happy all at the same time.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “I’m not certain what came over me.”

  “No,” she said. “Don’t be. I…I quite enjoyed it.”

  His lips twitched, but he did not say anything more.

  “I think I am ready to continue.” He raised his brows at her and she felt her cheeks burn. “With your story, continue with your story is what I meant.”

  As Bastian held out his arm for her hand, Catherine took it still trying to sort through the mess in her mind. This man beside her was not a man. In all the stories, they were monsters, demons from another world. And yet, he had never raised a hand to harm her. What was she doing? What if he turned on her in the end?

  Well, if he does I will be dead so it won’t matter now will it, she told herself. Why not see what happens next?

  They made it back inside the library and she found her place at the desk once more. Bastian cleared his throat and she saw the color in his cheeks that was not always there. A slight shiver ran up her spine knowing how that probably came to be, but she pushed aside her worries and waited for him to begin again.

  ***

  The bodies of the couple, I buried far out in the jungle where no one would find them for many years and returned that same night to their room. If my plan was going to work, I had to become the man I’d just killed so I read through the papers he had on him and went through every item in their room. The man’s name was Bastian Lavelle. He was quite wealthy already, but it appeared he had spent quite a bit of his coin to get here and spent even more once he was, according to his ledger.

  The coin he had in his trouser pocket was enough for me to take care of a few things, such as acquiring clean clothes and a good shave. I had become a bit scraggly during my months at sea.

  In his baggage I found a pouch with enough money to take over what would have become their plantation. The following night, I went down to the tavern for dinner, giving the tavern keep quite a few coins to keep him from asking questions about my presence once again, looking far better than I had the night before. He said he’d bring me a bottle of rum and my meal shortly enough and I found a table near the back once again to listen to those around me.

  I’d hardly taken my seat when a fight broke out. A rather large man swearing in French stood before three locals, cursing at them like any good sailor would. The three attacked and I watched as he barely used any effort to grab them by the throats before throwing them across the tavern, smashing into tables and chairs as they landed. The third drew a blade and yelled as he charged, but the large man dodged the attack, grabbed the man from behind and threw him into the wall. Those around had backed away for fear of the man. He held the attacker by the throat, slowly killing him.

  I got to my feet, a wry smile on my face, as I made my way to him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” I said in French, “but I would let him live.”

  “And why is that,” he spat out, not even looking at me. He was too focused on watching the other man’s face turn a vibrant shade of violet.

  “This scum you’re killing, is he really worth you spending time in prison?”

  “Depends,” the large man said, squeezing harder.

  But I wasn’t going to have it. I needed this man. I reached out and with one hand, grabbed his from the man’s throat, forcing him to remove his choking grip. The large man turned to stare at me wide eyed and confused.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Let us walk and talk a bit and I shall tell you,” I said and made my way for the door, knowing he would follow. I’d barely reached the road when I heard him huff behind me. “What is your name?”

  “Bernard,” he said.

  “And what is it you do?”

  “I used to be a sailor, but my ship was wrecked. Now, I work for some of the other men of the port. Taking care of their dirty work.”

  I paused and turned to look at him. He was quite intimidating in the moonlight. “I have a proposition for you. I need a personal assistant. A man of integrity and strength to help me run my plantation. I think you are that man. And, I shall pay you handsomely for it,” I added as I pulled a few gold coins from my newly acquired pouch.

  Bernard took them, bit them to test their metal, then slipped them into his pocket. “When do I start, sir?”

  I grinned and nodded towards the ships at the docks. “You start right now.”

  Chapter 4

  The following night, Catherine barely made it into the library before Bastian asked if she was ready to continue. He sounded excited and she couldn’t help but smile as she hurried to sit back behind the desk, pick up the quill, and waited for him to start again.

  “It was one week later,” he said, “when Bernard and I made it to the Isle of Montserrat…”

  ***

  I stood with Bernard on the dock and stared up through the trees towards the plantation house on the hill. The ‘real’ Bastian had good taste it seemed and I knew right away I was going to like it here. It was night when we made it and there were only a few men to greet us.

  “Master Lavelle,” a tall, broad shouldered man said as he bowed his head to me. “I am Kitt, your head Overseer. I have been running this plantation since it was started seven years ago.”

  I looked at the man closely and saw the same glint of evil I’d seen in the beast that turned me. However, judging from the heartbeat within him, this man was still a man. I glanced over his shoulder at the others and frowned. They kept their distance from Kitt and one even glared at the man’s back as if he’d like nothing more than to kill him. Interesting.

  “Kitt, is it? I trust you will show me around the plantation? I’m afraid it must be at night. I have a horrible skin affliction with the sun,” I said with an apologetic smile.

  “Of course, Master Lavelle, whatever you require,” he said and bowed his head again.

  “What I require right now is a bed for the night,” I said. �
��This is my man Bernard. Once I am settled, if you will find suitable rooms for him and give him a full tour of the plantation, I would be most grateful. Then tomorrow night, you will show me and I will meet all the slaves and overseers here.”

  Kitt’s eyes narrowed, but he bowed his head again and led us up the road towards the main house. We passed by the massive sugar cane fields and I smiled, satisfied with my plan so far. At least no one here had seen Bastian Lavelle before. They only knew he was the one who had purchased the plantation.

  And if anyone ever did show up, I was fairly certain paying them or simply killing them would not be a problem for me or Bernard.

  We were taken inside the home, beautifully carved of wood from the jungle, light and airy enough to keep it cool during the hot days and humid nights. The walls were crisp and clean along with most of the décor. I was informed it was left from the previous master who had died most suddenly. From the tone in Kitt’s voice, he’d been quite happy to see his previous employer dead. Too bad I was not going to disappear as easily as that. After he showed me my room, he offered to take Bernard on his tour, but I pulled my man aside first.

  “Report back to me everything you hear,” I said, flashing my fangs as I growled. “I fear there is something not to trust about our Kitt.”

  Bernard glanced at my fangs then nodded. He wasn’t afraid. I had shown him who I was that first night. He had stared at me in awe and fallen to his knees in the dirt and swore to help me in any way he could. He was not scared of me. He respected me and my power. That was all I needed.

  “Of course, sir,” he said. “I do not like him either.”

  “Good, then we are on the same page. Go now. I shall wait up for you.”

  He nodded then followed after Kitt. There was a slight burning in my throat after he left and I frowned. I would have to feed soon enough. The hungrier I became, the harder it would be to keep myself from lashing out at someone. Bernard had helped me over the last several days by finding people for me to feed on, knocking them unconscious first so when they awoke, they had no idea what happened to them. He was not here though so I ventured through the quiet house, listening for the sound of a heartbeat.