SV02-06. Slave to a Vampire

by Katrina Kahler

  Now his only concern was finding a way to tell Catherine as quickly as he could where he was, without letting the Master know. He had already risked so much, staying with her as long as he had, but if she knew where he was, she could bring Tula with her. Before when he had no control, it was too much of a risk, but if he was able to overcome the Master and escape, able to meet Catherine and Tula close by, then maybe there was a chance that Catherine would be able to stay safe.

  With the sun pressing down overhead and his body and mind steadily growing weaker, he reached out one last time for Catherine, flying as fast as he could to find the link that connected them. This time it was barely a whisper and panic filled him, but he realized when he appeared before her, she was only sleeping. He bent down close to her ear, kissed her cheek and whispered the few words he hoped would put them on the path to destroying the Master. He wanted to linger, wished he could simply step out of his prison and be solid beside her, but his mind faltered and he crashed back into his body, limbs quaking with exhaustion. Though it pained him, he let his body hang limp against the manacles and finally accepted the darkness.

  ***

  Catherine shifted in her sleep and finally woke with a start. “Bastian,” she hissed, but he was not there in her tent. His lips pressed against her cheek, she knew she did not dream it, nor the words he spoke in her ear.

  The sun was out and hovered over the camp, but Catherine could not wait. She needed to speak to Tula, but there was nothing she could use to cover herself if she rushed from her tent. For the first time since they had sent word to the monastery, and the rest of the vampires had come to join them along with her brother and Mary, she was grateful Liam had ignored her and tagged along.

  “Liam! Liam are you awake?” she called out through the tent flap, being careful to avoid the sunlight. She should be resting. Tula would begin her training once the sun set again and though he admitted she was gaining strength and speed, she was still sloppy in several moves, allowing her rage get the better of her. She did her best to control it, but knowing the Master held Bastian captive, drove her to the brink of despair.

  “Catherine?” he replied and a moment later hurried into her tent. “What is wrong?”

  “Bastian. He was here,” she said with a frown. “Not here, but I spoke with him.”

  Liam sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he looked at her. “Is this to do with the mind reading ability you have?”

  “Yes, but I need you to take his message to Tula.” She told him the three words and Liam shook his head. “Tell Tula. Please Liam, I don’t have time to waste trying to explain.”

  “Fine, fine,” he muttered and rushed back out of her tent.

  The words made no sense to Catherine, but she trusted Bastian to know what he was talking about. The gunpowder could mean either the Master’s vampires were armed or had men with them or they were close to a fort. But the other two words, she’d never heard before and paced frantically around her tent, mulling them over and over in her mind.

  A few minutes later, she heard the rustling of steps and cursing, before Liam burst back through the tent with Tula behind him, holding a cloak over his head. “Damn and blast,” Tula snapped, throwing the fabric to the ground. His eyes flared red, but he did not complain further about the pain he was sure to be feeling. “Are you certain those are the words he told you?” he asked, staring at Catherine intently.

  She nodded. “Yes, what do they mean, Tula?”

  He stared at her for a long moment before his lips twitched into a small smile. “They mean...I know exactly where Bastian is.”

  “Devil’s walkingstick means something to you?” Liam asked.

  Tula paced away to the table where the map left behind by the Master was laying in view. “That plant only grows in the far north of the Spanish territory of La Florida. I know because I was the one sent to procure it for Bastian many years ago.”

  Catherine watched his agile fingers trace a path from where they determined their location to be, and moved it up through the swamps and dense forest of the land. When he neared the northern edge of the territory, he circled his finger before tapping it by an area illustrated with blue and green, words written in Spanish around it.

  “He is near the salt marshes,” Tula said confidently. “They are moving at a much quicker pace than I first anticipated.”

  “How quickly can we reach them?” Catherine asked, looking out towards the sunny sky. “Tula? I will not keep waiting idly by. We have not moved from this camp in days. Please tell me you will not make me wait another night to go after them.”

  Tula leaned forward and glared at the map, mouth twisting as he muttered to himself. He tapped his fingers loudly on the table until the sound drove Catherine to growl in annoyance, and he raised a brow at her.

  “Sorry,” she whispered and turned away, needing to do something to distract herself, to prevent an outburst of her pent up anger. Her brother watched her closely.

  Lately she had been reaching out and touching the minds of those around her, not just Bastian.

  As far as she could tell, no one had yet to notice her poking and prodding around in their minds, but unlike Bastian, her connection was not as strong and she struggled to hold on for long. The glimpses she managed to see of Liam’s thoughts all focused on his fears of what Catherine was turning into. Worse, what he might have to do if she did lose control and became a danger to them all.

  “We will leave the moment the sun has set,” Tula finally announced, straightening.

  Catherine sighed with relief. “Good.”

  “But, I have one condition,” he said quickly and Catherine’s chest tightened. “You will do exactly as I say, Catherine. You will not charge in there without a plan, no matter what you see or hear. Do I make myself clear?”

  She began to nod, but he held up a hand to halt her. “What?” she queried with a frown. “I swear I will listen to you.”

  “Know that if you do not, if you risk your life or those with us, I will do whatever I must to keep you back. If that means chaining you to a tree for your brother to watch, then I will do it. I will not find Bastian only to tell him you were killed in the process.”

  “I will not foolishly risk my life,” she said and bowed her head. “I swear it, Tula. I only want to be reunited with Bastian.”

  Tula flashed his fangs, then nodded. “I will let Kendi and the others know. Liam, I will need your assistance while the sun is high.”

  “Of course,” he said, but sounded less than enthusiastic about it.

  “Wait,” Catherine said as the two made for the tent flap. “There was one more…complication that Bastian mentioned.”

  “What might that be?” Tula asked.

  Catherine’s hands tightened into fists until she forced them to release and clamped them down on her sword and dagger instead. “Antoinette. She’s alive and she’s with the Master.”

  Tula cursed, running a hand over his head and paced around the tent.

  “Antoinette? Who is she?” Liam asked, glancing from Tula to Catherine.

  “She was Bastian’s first wife,” Tula told him stiffly, “before he was turned. This is not good.”

  Catherine stared straight ahead, her rage growing once again. If that woman was with the Master then she could hurt Bastian. Victoria had been on the edge of insanity. There was no telling what the Master had done to Antoinette to make her join him nor what she was like now. If Catherine came face to face with her though, she would do whatever was needed to get Bastian back.

  Even if that meant killing Bastian’s first wife.

  Chapter 3

  The Master rolled over as memories haunted his dreams, but when they became too much to bear, he shot off the cot with a snarl, landing easily on his feet. He made his way across the interior of the tent, ready to attack. But there was no one there besides himself and Antoinette. She stirred and rolled over with sleep-filled eyes, her hair falling across her chest.

  “What is
it?” she asked quietly. “Can you not sleep?”

  Straightening, the Master growled at her questions. He was in no mood to answer her. “Go back to sleep. It is nothing.”

  “Your eyes say it is something,” she insisted, sitting up all the way. “Tell me love, what troubles you from your sleep. Perhaps I can ease your mind if you talk to me about the nightmares that torment—”

  He was across the tent in a blur of speed and had his hand wrapped around her neck, tightening his hold until he lifted her off the bed and she winced, bones grinding in her neck.

  “You do not speak to me as a child,” he spat, baring his fangs. “I am your Master. Nothing torments me, understand? Nothing. I am immortal, unmovable, all powerful, and if you suggest such a thing again, I will tear your pretty head from your body and feed you to the sharks, love.”

  He tossed her across the tent and she hissed, landing with a thud. Naked, she got to her feet and glared daggers at him. He threw her dress at her and snarled for her to get out and leave him alone.

  “Do not disturb me again,” he warned, “and do not go anywhere near Bastian.”

  She snarled back, crouching down ready to attack...he growled deep within his chest, baring his fangs and raising his hand towards her. Antoinette flinched, then collapsed, screeching in pain as she held her temples. The Master leered as she writhed in agony, his whole body flushing with the excitement of it and snarling in deep satisfaction to cause such hurt. His very being thrummed with power, eyes flashing between a deep crimson and white as he focused solely on Antoinette. When she begged for him to stop, he finally released her, stepping back towards the cot.

  “Go then,” he muttered darkly, “before I change my mind.”

  Face drawn in pain and rage, Antoinette slipped her dress over her head and darted from the tent. The sun was on its descent, but he smirked to hear her curse in pain as the rays hit her flesh. He tugged his leather breeches on as the few moments of release left him, and the subject of his nightmares returned, appearing before his waking eyes.

  For countless years he had tried to rid himself of the memories that tormented him still, of the faces that leered at him as he cried out in pain. It was why he did what he did, why he needed an army. It was the only way to save them all. And they would need to be saved, one day very soon. The rest of his kin was just too blind to know it. But the Master knew, he’d always known.

  ***

  Seven Hundred Years Before

  The day had been cold, so cold. the man was bundled in endless layers of fur, he looked as though he came from the barbaric lands to the east. Several Roman sentries eyed him as he walked the streets of the small village, but did not stop him and the man was grateful. He had been away from home long enough. He missed the warm arms of his wife and her embrace, especially on a cold night such as this. It was by luck he was able to return home so soon, but he would not question such fate. If God deemed it his time to see his wife again then he would accept it and take advantage of such an occasion.

  She was with child and every time he left her, he feared he would not see her again.

  With his simple wooden home in view, his steps quickened and soon he found himself pushing open the door. The inside was toasty from a fire burning vigorously in the hearth. His wife glanced behind her, startled, but her face quickly relaxed into a smile and she rushed into his arms.

  “You are home! I was worried the snows would keep you away from my arms,” she whispered, slipping her arms beneath the layers of fur to find his body. “We have missed you dearly.”

  He cupped her face and kissed her fiercely before shrugging out of his furs and letting them fall to the floor. “Hanna, my love,” he crooned, smoothing her black hair from her face. “The babe? You both are well?”

  She laughed and slid his hands down to her rounded belly, grown much larger in his time away. “We are fine enough, although your son is persistent and kicks your poor wife as she sleeps.”

  He frowned. “Son? How do you know it is a boy? It may yet be a little girl who will have her mother’s stubbornness and fiery spirit,” he mused and led her back to a chair before the fire. He stood with his back to it, warming himself and stared lovingly at his wife.

  As she rubbed her belly, her brow furrowed and he wondered what suddenly worried his wife. “A woman came through the village a few days past,” she told him quietly, but would not meet his gaze.

  “What woman? Speak plainly, wife. I have traveled far today and am in no mood for riddles,” he said, trying not to show his impatience. She told him the truth in all things. For some reason, his heart was hammering away in his chest and his palms turned to sweat, but not from the fire. “Hanna?”

  “I know you would not approve, but she was a kindly old woman in need of shelter for the night,” Hanna said. “I let her in and gave her a seat by our hearth. In return, she told me things of our future, of our child.”

  His face scrunched in anger and he cursed. “Woman! Why would you do such a thing? You do not know who she was to say things of your future? Do you even know what she was?”

  “Please, she did not trouble me,” Hanna insisted, but he shook his head furiously.

  “I spend my days in the wilds of the world hunting down all manners of creatures to keep you safe, to keep our child safe and you…you let this stranger into our home on a whim? What if she had been one of the monsters of the night? What if she had killed you, Hanna?” He paced away from the fire, tugging painfully at his beard as he pictured returning home to find his wife lying dead in a pool of blood and their child dead along with her. Even worse, finding his wife drained of blood as so many other victims were when he found them.

  Long ago, he had been a simple hunter for his village until the Order found him and trained him to be something more, something greater, one to make a difference in the world. The Holy Roman Empire had a firm stance on anything unnatural: track it down and kill it. That was his duty, it was what he had been risking his life to do for the past ten years.

  And here was his wife, letting a stranger into their home and acting as if she had not just put her life at risk.

  “Hanna, I have told you time and again,” he said through gritted teeth, “when I am away, you do not let anyone into our home. Anyone. What if one of the monsters I hunt came here?”

  She hefted herself to her feet and glared. “You taught me to use a sword a long time ago. I can defend myself well enough and the woman was nothing of the sort. She was kind and offered advice for a future mother with no mother of her own to look to.”

  He sighed. “Hanna, please.”

  “No,” she snapped. “You have returned home in one piece and I am grateful for it. The matter is finished. Do not ruin this night by your worry for me and our child.”

  Hanging his head, he let out a deep sigh and tried to release his anger with it. “You are right. Perhaps this duty of mine has made me a suspicious man,” he muttered and held out his hand towards his wife.

  She took it and he pulled her into his embrace, resting his chin on her head. “You were always fearful, but it is your big heart that lets you do your duty so well, my love. I did not mean to upset you, but I cannot turn away someone who is suffering.”

  “Perhaps it is your big heart that causes me to be so fearful instead,” he chuckled. “Come, let us eat. My insides are frozen solid and I would like to thaw sometime this night.”

  Hanna smiled seductively. “Is that all you desire to warm you this night?”

  He raised his brow and glanced at her rounded belly. “Are you certain it will not harm the child?” He could not deny, being without his wife’s touch for so many days drove him to a hunger he feared would never be sated again.

  She led him to their bed of furs at the other end of the room and slowly tugged down the shoulders of her dress. “I am certain you and I need this,” she whispered. “And the babe will be fine, do not worry, Antony. He is strong, like his father.”

  Antony huffed
, but she smoothed away his worries with her touch and soon they were tangled together in the furs, the fire feeling cold compared to the warmth he found in the embrace of his dear wife, holding her belly and their child soon to be born.

  Later in the night, Antony rolled over to find the furs empty of his wife. The sun had yet to rise and the fire had gone out in the hearth. Face set in worry, he sat up and grabbed for his breeches.

  “Hanna?” he called out to the darkness inside the home. “Hanna?”

  She would not leave in the middle of the night. Fear gripped his chest and he hurried to his feet, slipping on his fur lined boots and grabbing his sword.

  She was nowhere in sight. Surely she would not have gone out into the cold without waking him? He rushed to the door and pushed it open, glaring out into the darkness.

  “Hanna, love?”

  It was possible she simply needed to relieve herself, but she never left without waking him. He opened his mouth to call out again when the icy wind brushed passed his ear and he caught the faint whispers of a woman speaking. The voice was familiar, but not Hanna. Gripping his sword tighter and cursing the cold under his breath, he stalked around the hut, keeping to the shadows the full moon’s glow created for him. As he neared, the voice grew louder and when he heard the hiss beneath each word spoken, his body tensed.

  He took another step, ready to charge around the corner when Hanna’s voice met his ears.

  “I will not,” she spat out, her words pained. Antony gritted his teeth as she spoke again, “You cannot have him!”

  “Oh my sweet thing, do you really believe you can withstand my commands?” the other woman replied and cackled darkly. “You know nothing of the darkness in this world. So innocent, so naïve. You will fall and your husband will follow!”

  Antony charged around the corner, sword at the ready, but the woman was faster. She had Hanna by the throat, fangs bared and sharp nails digging into her soft flesh. Antony yelled as Hanna winced in pain, but the woman holding his wife snarled with a wicked grin.